Fortune 021: Ghost Marriage

While Guo Xingxian went to pack his things, Nan Shi took the chance to laze in the sun on the second-floor balcony.

He toyed with the copper coins and asked, “Qing Ying, do you have any other tasks?”

Qing Ying curtsied and replied, “Master has ordered that your humble servant remain at your side.”

“Tch.” Nan Shi grunted absently, pulling out the blank sheet of paper he’d received. “What’s my senior brother trying to tell me?”

“I do not know. The master said, ‘Young master will understand at a glance.’”

Nan Shi thought: Like hell I will!

He tossed the coins onto the table, one by one. After three throws, all the coins landed heads up—a Qian trigram.

Suddenly, an insight struck him… Wait, was his brother telling him to divine what the letter meant?

Was this even possible?

Qing Ying spoke softly, “Master said that whatever the young master divines, so it shall be. However you wish to proceed, the choice is yours.”

Nan Shi raised a hand, motioning for her to be quiet. He took up the other three coins and tossed them as well, listening to them roll and collide on the table. He watched closely: one tails, two tails… the last fell to the floor. He bent to look.

Three tails.

The upper three were Qian; the lower three, Kun: Earth below Heaven, the Pi hexagram.

The hexagram read: “The Pi hexagram, the man is not the right one, harmless to the upright person; great comes, small departs.”

The image: “Heaven and Earth do not interact, thus obstruction. The sage, by modest virtue, avoids danger; one cannot seek honor or reward.”

In plain terms: the one who receives this hexagram should avoid seeking status and riches, retreat for safety, and focus on self-preservation. ‘Pi’—obstruction, blockage. The character itself, with “not” atop “mouth,” was telling him, first, not to eat anything indiscriminately, to avoid disaster entering by the mouth; and second, not to talk indiscriminately, to avoid trouble caused by words.

Considering Nan Shi’s current situation, this divination was telling him to stay out of others’ business and get out fast.

That blank sheet from Chi You must have meant the same.

“Nan Shi, what are you up to?” Guo Xingxian came over with a tray of steaming buns and cakes and glanced at the coins on the table. “Wow, still keeping up your fortune teller act? Planning to set up a stall under a bridge?”

Really, after the events of last night, Guo Xingxian was half inclined to believe Nan Shi’s fortune-telling was genuine—he’d handled the superstitions with way too much ease.

Whenever Nan Shi had made an offering, Guo Xingxian’s fever would subside; when he apologized, the paper money would light easily—too many coincidences for mere accidents.

Nan Shi frowned at the sweets in Guo Xingxian’s hands. “What’s that?”

“It’s from next door…” Guo Xingxian swept the coins aside and set the tray down, handing Nan Shi a pinkish-white rice ball. “Try it, it’s our famous local snack—rose paste, red bean paste, and some even have meat. Every bit as good as the ones from Huangtianyuan.”

Nan Shi took it, but didn’t eat—he’d just divined not to eat anything, and now here was a cake from the neighbor. He’d be damned if he put it in his mouth. “Got the train tickets?”

“Yeah, this afternoon.” Guo Xingxian grabbed one as well, about to pop it into his mouth, but Nan Shi snatched it away and tossed it back on the tray.

“Don’t eat it!”

Guo Xingxian stared, baffled. “What’s with you?”

Nan Shi shoved a teacup at him, not answering the question. “Write a word for me.”

“What word?” Guo Xingxian frowned. “Nan Shi, you’ve been acting odd all morning.”

“I’d never hurt you,” Nan Shi said, “Just write! Any word at all!”

Maybe his own fortune would be obscured, but another’s could be interpreted—so long as he didn’t speak of fate revealed, he wouldn’t break the taboo.

If nothing else, Nan Shi was an expert at finding loopholes.

Guo Xingxian, seeing his serious expression, didn’t press further and casually wrote the character “Pi (否)” (obstruction).

Nan Shi asked, “Why this word? What were you just thinking?”

Guo Xingxian glanced around, then spoke in a low voice: “I was just thinking about next door—should I call the police…? Buying a corpse is illegal. And my godfather… if the girl’s soul has any awareness, isn’t this a forced marriage? That has to be awful for her. If her parents don’t know, isn’t it basically trafficking?”

If his godfather could exist, then ghosts definitely did!

“I was torn about whether to call. But it’s their family business, and I probably shouldn’t interfere, so I wrote ‘Pi.’” Other people’s affairs—he shouldn’t interfere, but also couldn’t ignore, hence that word.

These things should never happen unless both parties left a will. Feudal superstitions in the modern day, especially those stories on TV—like the girl who was trafficked, then buried alive in a coffin, dying of suffocation just to “marry” a corpse…

At least, in that case, evil was met with retribution. Within the first seven days of the girl’s death, the buyer’s entire family perished in a fire.

As Guo spoke, his finger idly traced the character, the tea soaking the brushstrokes, distorting the word.

Nan Shi had just started to speak when his eyes fell on the altered character. He seized Guo Xingxian’s hand and stared—Guo’s character matched the “Earth below Heaven Pi” hexagram, warning to guard the mouth. As a character reading, it advised against calling the police.

But Guo’s idle alteration extended the stroke beneath “not (不)” right through “mouth (口),” turning it into “Zhong (中)” (center)—a completely different meaning. Extend it further, and it would be the character for “Ji (极)” (ultimate).

When Pi culminates, Tai arrives—misfortune turns to fortune.

If he read the character this way, it meant Guo should indeed report this, even make a ruckus—the bigger, the better. Though facing resistance at first, things would ultimately resolve smoothly.

“What did you see?” Guo Xingxian asked.

Nan Shi shook his head. “I can’t say—do as you see fit, it’s not my place.”

Guo Xingxian seemed to catch his point and was about to speak, but Nan Shi clamped a hand over his mouth. “Shut it! You want to see your brother suffer, keep talking.”

Guo nodded hastily, and Nan Shi let go. He picked up his coins and cast another divination.

One matter can’t be divined twice, but he asked: if he accompanied Guo Xingxian and made a scene, what would happen to him?

This made it a new reading—after all, two different protagonists.

Six coins fell—three tails above, three heads below.

The opposite of before: Earth below Heaven Pi reversed to Earth above Heaven Tai.

Tai: fortune comes, the way of the noble lengthens, the mean recedes.

In short: You’re on the side of justice, and luck is on your side! You’ll strike it rich!

Why hesitate? Go for it!

“Say…” Nan Shi finally allowed a smile to escape. “Let’s change the tickets, stay a few more days. The scenery here is wonderful. I want to enjoy it a little longer—and you rarely visit home, spend some time with your godfather: weed, water, that kind of thing. I just noticed he’s covered in vines. Let’s nap, tomorrow we’ll get some fertilizer for him at the market. What do you think?”

“…What? That’s not necessary, is it?” Guo could tell Nan Shi had gotten a good divination, but still, why drag his godfather into this? “Someone in the village already does that, no need for us.”

“Don’t you want to see your godfather more often?”

“Don’t…” Guo caught himself, remembering all too well his recent supernatural spanking. The word “want” caught in his throat and never made it out.

“Good.” Nan Shi nodded gravely, raising a finger. “You want to, you really want to bond with your godfather!”

Guo grumbled as he left, but didn’t forget to take the whole tray of pastries—just right for tomorrow’s offering.

Nan Shi rented a car for a week through an app, intending to buy food and supplies in the city, since nothing around here seemed particularly safe.

He ordered, “Qing Ying, I’ll stay a few days. Go tell my senior brother.”

“I cannot obey,” Qing Ying replied. “Master ordered me to remain with you at all times.”

“Alright.” Nan Shi looked around and set up the big umbrella to provide instant shade. “There aren’t so many rules outside. If that’s how it is, take care of yourself.”

Qing Ying hesitated but stepped into the shadow. Despite her age—she was a millennia-old ghost—she could reveal herself in this daylight, though the sunlight was uncomfortable. “Thank you, young master.”

“No need.” Nan Shi sat back down and handed his coke blindly backward. He felt it taken from his hand and smiled. Then he dialed Zhang He on video call. “Zhang He, you busy?”

Zhang He was at his computer, the latest Sony headphones around his neck, eyes glued to the screen, one hand on the keyboard and one on the mouse—clearly gaming. “Give me about ten minutes.”

“No rush.” Nan Shi said, “Find Steward Zhou after this and tell my senior brother I’ll be a few days late coming back. Not to worry—his friend is my buddy’s relative. He’ll look after me.”

“OK, boss! Anything else?”

Nan Shi thought. “Ask Steward Zhou for some money. Place an order for phones, tablets, and laptops for everyone in the compound—give modern tech a thorough intro.”

Zhang He agreed readily.

Nan Shi hung up and turned to Qing Ying, who was still holding the coke awkwardly. He grinned. “Go ahead, drink it. Try it out.”

Qing Ying’s face, usually expressionless, flickered with uncertainty. She curtsied and copied his twisting gesture to open the bottle, sipping carefully.

With Qing Ying by his side, Nan Shi couldn’t bunk with Guo Xingxian anymore—if his godfather showed up to find the two together and an extra young woman there, he’d be dead meat, maybe beyond his brother’s help.

He got up to tidy his bedding, and as he reached the doorway, he heard Guo Xingxian on the phone: “…That’s right, Lingnan Village, my neighbor’s father-in-law’s house, probably 12th Brigade, but I’ll confirm later… yes, the man’s name is Li Decai, his wife is Liu Hua… They bought a corpse for a ghost marriage! My neighbor told me directly—please investigate if it’s an illegal corpse.”

“…I’m Guo Xingxian, ID 320503XXXX, cell…”

“Thanks! Please investigate thoroughly!”

Nan Shi waited by the door for him to finish before going in and nonchalantly grabbing his bedding. Guo Xingxian wasn’t stupid—Nan Shi had warned him not to reveal fate, so he just winked exaggeratedly and said, “Tch, those scoundrels—I called the police.”

“Oh.” Nan Shi replied, keeping his face blank.

Soon the car arrived. Nan Shi reminded Guo again not to eat anything from anyone but his own family—especially not the neighbors—before driving off to the city to shop.

The situation seemed clear enough: why would one household’s celebration and funeral cast a pall over the entire village? Three possibilities:

1. There really was a disaster coming, and most of the village was doomed and had nothing to do with supernatural causes.
2. The groom’s ghost disapproved and would take revenge on all—family, friends, neighbors.
3. The bride’s ghost disapproved and would seek revenge on enemies as well as their associates and neighbors.

Nan Shi figured number one was most likely—after all, vengeful ghosts needed permits for revenge and would stick to those truly responsible. Targeting neighbors would be like massacring a whole clan; the underworld would never approve.

After all, every realm had its rules, and even in the underworld, vengeance permits weren’t easily obtained. If the grievance wasn’t great, the wronged soul just had to wait out the prescribed lifetime before settling scores.

In that ghost bride’s example, her legal vengeance was limited strictly to the buyer’s parents, the trafficker, and the Daoist—all those directly accountable for her wrongful death. Even the dead groom wasn’t on the list unless he’d played a role in her demise.

As for calamity—maybe the family threw a banquet, and the whole village attended, triggering food poisoning or a collapse. That would make sense in every way.

Nan Shi drove slowly with the windows down, pretending to be a rookie, sometimes flagging villagers to help him turn or reverse, all the while observing their faces.

Most, especially the elderly, had a dark, ominous aura between their brows—the look of death. Young people were better, some pale but likely just in for a serious illness. Only a rare few had the shadow so dark as to signify near doom.

It seemed like food poisoning—after all, younger people had stronger constitutions.

Even driving at a crawl, it only took twenty minutes to leave the village; then Nan Shi dropped his act, switched on some energetic music, and sped away to the supermarket for supplies.

When he returned, he found Guo Xingxian chatting in the neighbor’s yard. Seeing the car, Guo flailed like an eager pup. “Nan Shi, over here! Give us a hand!”

Nan Shi rolled down the window. Li Decai, the neighbor, came over and handed him a cigarette. “Thanks, young man!”

“No trouble, no trouble!” Nan Shi instinctively took it. Guo Xingxian was already lugging over a huge red basin loaded with steaming buns. “Pop the trunk!”

Nan Shi popped it, got out, and helped load the car. Guo Xingxian gave him a look, and Nan Shi asked no more. Once everything was packed, Guo climbed into the passenger seat and waved, “We’ll drop these off now, right? 12th Brigade?”

“That’s right! Careful out there!” Li Decai waved as the car pulled away. Out of the village, Nan Shi asked, “What are you up to now?”

Guo Xingxian’s eyes gleamed. “Thanks for the invite—I’m officially a whistleblower! Time to gather intel.”

Nan Shi rolled his eyes. “Not tired?”

“Nope! I napped in the Apricot Immortal Temple—slept great.”

“That was less than fifteen minutes,” Nan Shi pointed out.

Guo shrugged. “Still, I’m wide awake. If you get tired, I’ll drive.”

“Fine.” Nan Shi pulled over and let Guo take the wheel. He glanced at the back seat, piled high with trays of buns and cakes. Normally, the bright red basins and steamed buns would look festive; now, all he saw was gloom hanging over yellow spirit money.

The neighbor’s in-laws lived close by—a ten-minute drive. Their house was decked out for the occasion: red lanterns draped in white hemp cloth emblazoned with the character “Dian” (tribute), an eerie blend of festivity and mourning.

Inside, the place bustled with activity: some cleaning fish and ducks, some steaming buns, some folding spirit money. Guo called out, “Buns are here!”

Several people came out to help carry things in. Guo’s face was a local brand—everyone knew him. A man in his fifties or sixties handed him a pack of premium cigarettes. “Xian’er, thank you!”

“Just being a good neighbor!” Guo replied, then motioned for Nan Shi to come help haul goods. After several round trips, Nan Shi asked where everything should go and was told to take some spirit money into the main hall.

As he entered, a giant red “Double Happiness” character stabbed at his eyes.

It was just like outside: a festive red character atop gold foil, but draped with a triple-colored mourning ribbon, black, yellow, white. Black and white couplets flanked the altar.

Guo used carrying things as an excuse to make conversation. “Grandpa Liu, when’s the ceremony?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Old Liu shook his head and sighed, “We were too old to be lucky parents—our only son gone so soon… But as parents, at least we got him married. Now, in the afterlife, he’ll have someone to lean on, right?”

“That girl, she was a good one, from a decent family, died of illness… My boy wasn’t bad-looking, had good character. He deserved her! He deserved her!” He repeated it, as if convincing himself.

“The bride’s coffin arrives the day after tomorrow. We spent over twenty thousand on a wedding procession—her family was willing to marry her here; we can’t let her down. We paid every cent of the bride price. Once the ceremony’s done, they’ll be cremated together.”

Guo gripped his hand. “Grandpa Liu, my condolences.”

“Ah… it’s alright, I was prepared for this.” The old man wiped tears from his eyes.

Nan Shi watched silently. Everyone in this family bore the look of doom, dark shadows etched deep between their brows. Even Nan Shi’s own phone, with beautification filters, couldn’t hide the unnatural grey-green on his brow.

Guo chatted a bit more before returning home with Nan Shi.

Shaking his head: “No good, can’t get a peep out of them. Too tight-lipped—maybe I’ll try asking Uncle Li next door.”

“What if they really were a couple in life? Or the parents did agree, what then?” Guo wondered.

If they were lovers, that was a different matter. If the parents agreed, even if the police came, there’d be just a reminder to take the bodies for cremation quickly—nothing more to be said.

Nan Shi gave a crooked smile. “Not hard—try to get the girl’s birth date and eight characters, I’ll… check.”

“You’re something else, Nan Shi!” Guo clapped, then hesitated. “But… aren’t people who get involved in this stuff doomed to bad luck? If you can do a little less, do a little less. You’re not lame or blind—you don’t need to live off this stuff.”

Nan Shi dared not say that if he didn’t do it, his own brother would probably kill him on the spot.

So he just tried another tack: “It’s not that bad… I’m gay, so long as I don’t do surrogacy or fake marriages, I’m not having kids anyway.”

“…True.”

---

Two days passed in a blink.

Guo never managed to find out the girl’s birth characters.

The day of the ritual was heavy with clouds, the sun was smothered beneath a slate sky, and even the daylight felt gloomy.

According to local custom, when a bride arrived, the bridal car would circle the village; in a ghost marriage, the coffin must take the same route.

Guo and Nan Shi leaned against the balcony railing, watching in the distance.

The procession wasn’t in sight yet, but the blaring of suona horns cut through the air.

“Here they come!” Guo pointed as the group rounded a corner.

Eight musicians led the way in sackcloth garb, white sashes tying their waists, playing blaring horns, flutes, cymbals, and sheng, every step matched by a mournful blast. Then came a young man clinging to a rooster, dressed in black with a skullcap bearing a red flower—his face painted a ghastly white.

Behind, four men bore a huge scarlet coffin, followed by ten or so more carrying dowries pasted with white and black “Dian” papers.

A wind rose, setting the sashes at waists, the red cloth on the coffin and dowries all fluttering.

The funeral music wailed, cold and cutting.

As the procession neared, Guo unconsciously gripped Nan Shi’s sleeve. “God, that’s chilling.”

Nan Shi nodded stiffly.

The group passed directly under their window.

Sweat beaded Nan Shi’s brow.

A female ghost in bright red wedding robes sat atop the coffin, blood-red lips stretched in a sharp-toothed grin as she gnawed her scarlet nails—laughing softly.

She raised her head and met Nan Shi’s eyes.