Fortune 001: Prosperity, Democracy, Civility and Harmony

“Still open, Xiao Nan?” Aunt Liu from the neighboring silk shop peered into Nan Shi’s store, carrying a new little silk purse from Yiwu. Seeing him still sitting at the counter, engrossed in his phone, she raised her voice and called out, “It’s past nine. It’s not safe to head home so late!”

Nan Shi looked up at the sound. The shop’s warm yellow light reflected off him, softening the features of his face. He wore a pale blue long gown, a piece of antique jade from some unknown source hanging at his chest, and his silver-rimmed glasses lent him the gentle air of a scholar.

“I know, Aunt Liu,” Nan Shi replied. “I’ll tidy up the shop before heading home.”

“Alright, I won’t wait for you then!” Aunt Liu turned back, switched off the lights in her own shop, pulled down the rolling door, and walked away with graceful steps.

With her departure, only Nan Shi’s shop remained lit on the pedestrian street.

He opened a delivery package that had arrived earlier, pouring out several small bags wrapped in bubble wrap. Tearing off the tape, he dumped the contents out. Beads large and small scattered like pearls on a jade plate.

Scrutinizing them under the light, he checked each strand of prayer beads and found no flaws or cracks. Laid out on dark blue velvet, they took on an air of quiet luxury.

Hmm… No one would guess these bracelets were bought wholesale at fifty pieces a lot, ten yuan each—a price he honestly considered decent. These were high-end compared to the shiny, garish bracelets being peddled two stores over at twenty cents apiece.

They were convincing enough for most people.

Aside from these, a few more packages held jade (actually water-drenched fakes), lotus seed beads (real, but cheap), cat’s eye stones (plastic), and other accessories—all with distinctive designs. Some styles were Nan Shi’s own creations.

As he sorted through the haul, his gaze drifted to the antiques displayed on the store’s shelves and he couldn’t suppress a sigh.

Real antiques, and no one buys them. The fakes, though, sell like hotcakes.

He sorted all the items into velvet-lined trays, placing them neatly in the display case and pricing each one. By the time he finished cleaning up, it was past eleven.

Stretching lazily, he let out a long breath, took a swig of flat cola, and gathered up the trash, ready to head home. He’d worn this robe for a week, it was time for a wash. He might as well wear it home.

Come to think of it, his new clothes should be ready soon.

Two years ago, the pedestrian street had been renovated to promote its cultural industry, transforming every shop with a classical flair. Red lanterns hung from the eaves, swaying gently in the night breeze. The air was cool, with no birds or cicadas, and the moonlight fell quietly, lending the place an air of poetic serenity.

But the night was dreadfully cold.

Nan Shi hugged his arms. Under his robe, he wore thermal underwear that, according to the seller, could withstand minus five degrees. It was chilly, but still above zero! Didn’t make sense. He’d have to leave a bad review when he got home.

The red lantern above flickered. Nan Shi instinctively looked up. The lantern looked like it hadn’t been changed in ages, its red fabric fraying in the wind, although the bulb inside still shone stubbornly on. The cloth dimmed and softened the light until it ached to look at.

He quickly dropped his head and kept walking. To reach the parking lot, he’d have to cross the main street and wind through two alleys.

He liked the location, but walking these alleys alone at midnight was unnerving. The pedestrian street dated back over a thousand years, to the Tang Dynasty. The surrounding area was mostly residential, dotted with old buildings.

During the renovations, the city had preserved the characteristic architecture, building museums where needed, restoring whenever possible, and relocating residents only as necessary. Some buildings had been converted into guesthouses, while some were still lived in—the old homes lacking modern conveniences and thus left mostly to nostalgic elders.

A good intention, perhaps, but it meant that once the shops closed for the night, the whole area was shrouded in darkness. Occasionally, a red lantern would glow at a guesthouse, with the effect that the street could easily pass for a horror-movie set.

In fact, a few horror films had already used the old street as a backdrop.

The thought summoned images of late-night encounters with movie crews, and Nan Shi shivered despite himself. He knew it was all fake… but imagination only made it more terrifying now.

As someone as timid as they come, Nan Shi usually waited till a neighboring shop owner finished work, so he’d have company for the walk. Being alone always sent his nerves on overdrive.

Today was an exception.

From now on, he’d restock only when there were other people about! Discreetly, so no one would see him ferrying in armloads of jewelry from deliveries.

He was thinking this when the light above flickered again, suddenly dimming, the red shade turning the glow a sullen, bloody hue.

Nan Shi’s heart skipped a beat. He quickened his pace, cursing inwardly—why couldn’t someone fix the lights? Did no one care how people like him felt walking home in the dark?

But all the same, he couldn’t help glancing up. Sure enough, three or four meters ahead, a string of lanterns glowed feebly. He made a mental note of the shop’s name to remind the owner tomorrow.

He had barely started to relax when, turning his head, he saw a woman in red with long hair covering her face standing right there—at least, it seemed to be a woman…

The breath he’d just drawn hitched in his throat, his heart skipped and then surged. He froze, unable to take another step forward.

Nan Shi swallowed, thinking: Stay calm! She must be a crew member, just separated from her group! Even if he hadn’t heard anything about a recent film shoot, that had to be it.

Long live prosperity, democracy, civility, harmony! I’m not afraid!

He hesitated. Should he go over and ask? Most likely, she’d been left behind—no girl should be out here alone at this hour. He opened his mouth to speak, but the woman raised her head, revealing her face streaked in blood—a gruesome make-up effect with blood oozing from every feature.

…Miss, you’d scare people half to death walking the streets looking like that in the middle of the night!

Nan Shi managed a weak smile. “Are you lost? If so, just keep going straight; there’s a 24-hour police kiosk about eight hundred meters ahead. By the way… Your crew’s makeup team did a pretty good job.”

The girl did not reply, only stared at him with blank, unblinking eyes.

Nan Shi decided he’d be better off just walking past her and heading home.

As he passed by, the chilling sight of her red dress fading from view filled him with relief… or so he thought—wait?!

He was barely a step ahead when suddenly she appeared in front of him again.

He couldn’t find his voice. Had he even heard her footsteps?

No.

When had she moved there?

He didn’t know.

Looking closely—was her chest rising and falling?

No!

Nan Shi’s mind went blank. His legs seemed to move of their own accord, spinning him around and sending him sprinting back the way he’d come—there really was a police kiosk that way! Human or ghost, so long as he could make it there, he’d be fine!

But he’d barely run a few steps before she appeared before him, out of thin air this time—no afterimage, no sound, no process. Even a world-class sprinter couldn’t do that…

The red-clad ghost looked at him and smiled—a disturbing, twisted grin—then reached a hand toward him…

Instantly, Nan Shi bolted into a side alley. This time, the red-clad apparition did not appear in front of him. He tore through the winding network of alleys, breath echoing loudly in his ears, cold night wind whipping past. He didn’t dare look back, terrified he’d turn to find her face pressed to his.

His heart simply couldn’t take it! He’d have a heart attack on the spot!

He slowed, breath hitching and laborious, every step feeling as if he were dragging himself from a bog.

At last, he stopped, hands braced on his knees, gasping for air. Sweat soaked his thermals, chilling him to the bone.

But this was no time to stop. Bracing himself, he looked back—good, the alley was empty. She hadn’t followed.

Nan Shi turned back, starting to calm his breathing, when suddenly he felt something wet drop onto his head.

Instinctively, he reached up to touch his hair. His palm came away smeared with dark red.

Nan Shi looked up—and there she was, the crimson-clad ghost, bending over to look at him.

Blood dripped from her eyes and mouth, tracing her cheeks and dangling from her chin before falling right onto his head.

Nan Shi recoiled in terror, losing his balance and tumbling backward.

The ghost’s lips moved. Blood spurted from every orifice, splattering the ground in dark-red blooms. She drew closer with every step, leaving bloody footprints and smearing her hem with crimson, dragging a long, wet trail across the ground.

“Prosperity, democracy…” Nan Shi muttered in despair, to no effect. The ghost reached him. Her blood-soaked hem brushed his ankle, cold and clammy, soaking into his socks and shoes.

She crouched before him, using her sleeve to rub the gore from her face, revealing a deathly pale but oddly delicate, even cute, visage. She forced a half-hearted, pleading smile. “Mr. Nan, could you please do a reading for me…”

Struggling to slow his heartbeat, Nan Shi swallowed to wet his parched throat. Gasping for breath, he nodded and took out his notebook, spreading it before her. “Do you want me to tell you when’s the best time for revenge or where your enemy is now? Write it down so I can help.”

“No,” said the ghost-girl. “Could you tell me how my cat is doing? My mom doesn’t much like cats. When I first died, I wasn’t thinking straight and couldn’t take care of it… I checked my mom’s place—not there. Checked my own place—no sign of a body, either. I don’t know where it ran off to.”

“I really worry. Lately, I’ve been so distracted tormenting my enemy that I can’t even focus. Its name is Mimi, an orange tabby. I weighed it before I died—just over fifteen pounds. No idea about birth date—I found it on the street, you see…”

“Here’s my phone, fully charged. Would you take a look at the photos? I figured a picture would help. I had to threaten several programmers to recover them for me…”

She couldn’t help grumbling, “Imagine that—even after dying and turning into a ghost, I’m still worrying about it. Ridiculous! My mom never sold my apartment, everything’s still there, but that little brat chewed through the bag of cat food, and when I checked, it was all moldy… That stuff costs hundreds a bag—my hard-earned money!”

“My time for revenge is nearly up, and I’ve found my enemy, but I don’t dare kill him yet—if I do, I’ll have to drag him down with me, and then how will I ever find Mimi?” As she spoke, fresh blood streamed from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Annoyed, she wiped her face with her already blood-soaked sleeve, adding, “Please don’t misunderstand, sir. This just happens on its own, it’s not that I have murderous intentions toward you!”

Nan Shi: “……”