Chapter Text
Xie Lian had come to find himself in Ghost City by complete accident and, as was usual, abysmal luck.
He had been following the main road to the next major city—surely a path no one could get lost on!—yet still found himself turned around in a forest. Really, it was his own fault for travelling on the day of the Zhongyuan Festival, but some days even he was still floored by the extent of his bad luck. He’d hoped to be able to camp off the road and hide from any wayward spirits, but had heard many ghostly voices and seen the flashes of ghost lights as he had tried to find a spot, and decided fleeing back the way he came was the better option.
Then he had arrived at the crossroads, two paths laid before him where he knew there had only been one mere hours before. He had sighed and rubbed his head, stood in the rain with no clear way forward and the sun long gone from the sky. One of these led to the ghost realm. One of these led back to the town he had left yesterday.
The voices of the ghosts behind him were only drawing closer.
So, caught between two terrible choices, he took the leftmost path. He’d charged onward into the darkness with hope in his heart that he might find a homestead or an inn or even just life in a campsite.
Instead, he’d crested a hill and sighted lights in the distance, the shine of a town setting the horizon aglow and settling his own worries, glad to not be lost in the woods for any extended period of time. He always ended up so wet by the end of such things.
Xie Lian walked through the night into what had to be well past midnight, arriving on the edges of the settlement with the lights still bright and shining. There was a fervour to the air, an excitement that was tangible and woven in between the strong scent of hot food and perfume. It was lit a vibrant crimson from red lamps strung across the fronts of buildings and over the street. The buildings themselves were short and decrepit, but even from where he was, he could see they grew taller and taller in the distance until they became great, sprawling towers, glowing in the dark sky. Even in Heaven, Xie Lian had never seen such a sight.
It was breathtaking.
As his eyes fell from the heights of the distant buildings, they caught on the citizens of the city. Between the buildings, spirits of every shape, size, and form filled the streets in a cacophony of colour and sound. Ghostly vendors in elaborate masks and half-creatures skulked the streets or called for patronage.
He’d heard of Ghost City. He knew it was a haven for spirits and demons of all kinds, but that was about all. Knew it existed, theoretically, from tales old women told in the street, warning children to never go there if they wished to keep all their limbs. Knew how to accidentally end up there, foolishly taking a new road in the darkness. What he did not know was how one could return to the world of the living once you were here.
Xie Lian really wished he’d stayed to listen more closely to those old women’s stories of men who had braved Ghost City to rescue their beloved and return them to the human world. He wished he knew how to get back, but like many things, doubted it would be easy. There was always a trick to these kinds of things.
He glanced back the way he had come, out into the infinite darkness of the wilderness and pouring rain.
He decided to take his chances.
As he walked into the city, Xie Lian fished out a spare piece of fabric from his things and draped it over his head and face as much as he could, hiding himself from the ghosts. Most of the ghosts here seemed to be of lower tiers, amalgamations of creatures or obviously wearing the evidence of their death in broken skin or hanging limbs. He, in his very much pristine form, outed himself as either alive or something far more powerful than they were. He wanted the attention of neither of those.
As he walked, he observed the ghosts around him. He watched as a small ghostly child stole a bracelet made from what looked like bone from the front of a stall, the pig-like owner shouting after him as he fled. There were two ghosts arguing heatedly at another stall, the owner attempting to persuade the ghost whose skin was closer in texture to that of a tree than a human, that their wares were better than those found in some other part of town. He glanced briefly down an alley as movement caught his eye, only to realise the amorous embrace and hurried motions. Xie Lian flushed, set his eyes forward, and hurried on.
His stomach growled, which was really inevitable after such a long walk. Unusually, he had a small pouch of money on his person, and a hot meal right now would go a long way to making him feel a little better about this turn of events. That, and if he could find somewhere that served food to the living, he might be able to find someone else who was alive in this undead place who knew the best way out.
He glanced about and considered who looked the least threatening and the most available to be asked questions.
“Excuse me,” he asked of the half-goat, half-human woman selling candied eyeballs in the street. “Is there somewhere in this city that sells human food?”
“I’m selling human food right here,” the seller shot back angrily. The fur on her head bristled, pupils shifting to something a little longer and inhuman.
“Oh, no, my apologies,” he corrected, bowing. “I mean food for humans.”
“Oh.” The seller scratched her furred chin, mouth twisting in thought. “Probably the Gambler's Den? They get humans there sometimes. Might feed ‘em too.”
Xie Lian smiled. “Thank you very much. How do I get there?”
She cocked her head further into the city. “Go that way. Head for the centre of town. It’s the big red’n gold building full of assholes. Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you again.” He took off down the street.
It took some time, Xie Lian losing himself in winding back alleys and crowded, bustling thoroughfares, working his way forward towards the general area of the Gamblers Den. He had to ask for directions twice more, though when he finally came upon it, realised the first shopkeeper had been right. He would have never been able to miss it.
It was a huge building, brightly painted and towering above the other buildings around it. Light spilled from the windows and the sound of laughter and shouting echoed out onto the street. Around the entrance were two columns with characters painted haphazardly on, and the beam across the top had another. It took some time to work out exactly what they said as whoever had painted it on had atrocious calligraphy skills. From what he could puzzle out, the left held the phrase Money Over Life, the one on the right Gains Over Shame, while the top contained maniacal laughter of Ha Ha Ha scrawled across it. He still wasn’t entirely sure he was correct.
He followed a pair of old ghostly men through the door, listening to them argue about which nearby stall had the best hair-noodle soup. The inside of the building was even more chaotic. The interior was huge and, from the entrance, he could see the second floor which ringed the outer edge above them. From the outside he knew there were more floors above, but they seemed to be out of sight. Private rooms perhaps? The floor beneath his feet was covered in dark lacquered wood, oddly shined to perfection given the shabby appearance of most of its patrons. Ghosts and demons of all kinds were packed into the building, some seated at gaming tables, others drinking. Many seemed content to watch from the sides, eyes tracking bets and coin while whispering to one another. Above all other things, it was loud. Shouts and cries and screams of all types filled the air around him as he tried to get his bearings.
In the end, Xie Lian retreated to hover at the edge of the room, eyes peeled for anyone that looked alive, or even someone who worked here to point him in the right direction to maybe get him a meal. He wondered if they took normal currency here. It would certainly be his luck to finally have some money and be in the one place that would not accept it. From looking at the tables, coin did not seem to be the only thing that was wagered, though there was some.
He slowly managed to identify the workers, dressed in outer black robes with silver trimming and red robes beneath, masks of different kinds set on their faces and tending to the patrons of the Den. Then, as he watched one server pass a table, Xie Lian saw him: a human.
He was a middle aged man dressed in well-worn brown garb and a tattered hat resting at the back of his neck in the same way Xie Lian often wore his. He was likely a farmer, or a workman of some form, moving to sit at one of the gambling tables, his shoulders hunched and anxiously stiff as he settled into his seat. He looked very out of place.
Xie Lian quickly moved for him, ears catching the conversation as he approached.
“Please,” the man begged the dealer, “I’ll bet anything you want.”
The dealer was an unusually tall man with a mask of a snarling tiger. Tanned hands that had lost their lively glow peeked out from beneath the edges of his robes.
“Alright,” the dealer said, twirling the dice between his fingers, just able to be heard in the din of the room. “If you win, you return home in the morning and find your wife free of illness and healthy until the end of her days. If you lose, you owe three years of servitude to the house. You stay here, you do not go home to your wife, you work for us.”
Xie Lian’s stomach dropped out from his body. They couldn’t, could they?
“Uncle, excuse me,” Xie Lian said, stepping up beside the man and eyeing the dealer. He could sense nothing from the dealer, neither life nor death nor spiritual energy. He removed the fabric that had been concealing his face, trying to show the farmer that he was no ghost. “I couldn’t help but overhear your wager. If I may ask, why have you come here?” he asked gently. “Surely there are safer options?”
The man blinked at Xie Lian, looking him up and down. Seeming to decide something from it he replied, “My wife is dying. She sickens more each year and I could not bear life without her. We are too poor for a proper healer, and all the ones we could afford had no answers.” The farmer sighed. “I heard of this place, where they can grant any wish. To me, it is worth my life to let her live hers. I love her more than the sun and sky itself.”
Xie Lian’s heart softened. He let out a steadying breath.
He turned to the dealer. “Might I be his wager? If he loses, you receive three years for my servitude and he goes free.”
“Six years for you, if he is not paying it himself,” the dealer said coldly.
“Daozhang, I cannot accept that!” the farmer cried, clutching at his hand. “You are so young, six years is so much—!”
“I’m older than I look,” Xie Lian said quietly, offering him a smile and petting the man’s hand with his free one. “Six years is not so much to me, and three is a long time for you to lose with your wife. I would prefer you won, of course, but if you were to lose, I think it unfair she loses such a dedicated husband, don’t you? Please, let me help you.”
The man stared at him, mouth half open in disbelief. Then he simply stood from his seat and bowed deeply to Xie Lian. “Thank you.”
Xie Lian hoped his back luck could not extend to this man, and pulled him from the bow.
The dealer nodded to them both, the painted tiger eyes flashing in the light of the Den. “You win, your wife remains in good health. You lose, daozhang stays for six years.”
They both nodded in agreement, sitting back down at the table.
The die were cast.
The house rolled eight.
The man rolled four.
Xie Lian stared at the dice, unsurprised, but certainly disappointed. Oh well.
The man turned to stare at him with watery eyes. “I am sorry, daozhang.”
“No, it is fine. I knew what I was agreeing to,” Xie Lian returned with a warm smile. The one he remembered giving to his believers before the world crumbled to ash beneath his feet. “Your devotion to your wife should not be punished. I am glad you can still return to her.”
“You can bet again,” the croupier said.
“No, no.” The farmer shook his head, turning away from the ghost. “I have learned my lesson today.” The man bowed deeply to Xie Lian. “Thank you, daozhang. I will treasure every remaining moment I have with her.”
Xie Lian swallowed past the lump in his throat and handed the man his money pouch. “Please, take this with you. It’s not much, but I do not think it will do me much good here.”
“Daozhang—”
“Please, take it and be safe,” Xie Lian urged, pressing the pouch into his palms and curling his fingers around it. “Take care of your wife.”
“I will! I swear I will!” he declared.
The farmer saluted him one final time, deep and reverent, and then strode out the door, wiping tear tracks from his face as he went. Xie Lian smiled to watch him go.
Well, he didn’t really need directions out of Ghost City now, did he?
Once the man was out of sight, Xie Lian shook his head and turned back to the dealer, reaffixing the cloth to his face. He stared up into the tall ghost in the tiger mask and said, “I suppose I owe you a few of my years then.”
Xie Lian found himself in a room a few doors away from the main gambling floor, sitting on a cushion across from a different ghost. His skin was pale and translucent, blue splashed across his lips and cheeks where one would normally see a blood-flush of life. His eyes were purest white and Xie Lian struggled to tell quite where the man was looking. He had flecks of blue-white scales scattered over his cheeks and ears and hands, while his hair flowed slightly about his shoulders. It was still deep black but so shiny as to appear wet and Xie Lian thought he must have been a victim of drowning. He was dressed impeccably, in the same dark robes of the other staff he had seen, but he wore his with the sleeves loose rather than bound and carried himself with poise.
His teeth were sharp points when he smiled at Xie Lian. “I’m Xu Hao. I run things here unless Chengzhu is around, in which case he does. You will, however, be reporting to me.”
Xie Lian nodded. He wondered who the master of the city was. He must be someone truly impressive to be able to preside over such a large collection of ghosts.
“What’s your name?” Xu Hao asked promptly.
He paused, biting at his lip.
“Doesn’t have to be your real name. It’s probably better it isn’t. Anything you want.”
Xie Lian silently wondered how he got himself into these kinds of situations while a small voice in the back of his head added this whole situation to the tally of things that would get him shunned by all of Heaven’s officials. Again.
Well, when in Ghost City, anything goes.
“Wujin.”
“Sure. What skills do you have, Wujin?” Xu Hao asked. “Any talents?”
“I’m strong,” Xie Lian considered. “I am good at fixing things. Good at cleaning.”
“Cooking?”
“Ah, I like my food, but no one else seems to,” he admitted.
“Hm.”
“Ah, I’m also rather good at street tricks, and can sing and play some instruments,” he added. His playing was a little out of practice, but his singing was one of the things he had liked to do most often on the road. His voice was still serviceable.
Xu Hao looked at him assessingly, white eyes skating over him. “What sort of tricks?”
“The usual sorts of things. Breaking rocks on my chest, juggling, feats of strength, and sword swallowing. I make talismans as well, but I don’t think that would be useful here.”
“Depends. Any good at games of chance?”
“No, no,” Xie Lian said, shaking his hands definitively. “I am incredibly unlucky. Not at all useful for a place like this. I will lose you money every time if you want me as a dealer.”
“Hm, no,” Xu Hao agreed, “it does not sound useful, but everyone has their uses.” He noted something on a page. “Can you serve food and drinks?”
“Yes, that I can do.”
“Cleaning, drink service, entertainment, and terrible luck,” Xu Hao said, looking down at his notes. “Alright, I’ve worked with worse.” A pause. “Any bad habits?”
“Not really.”
“I won’t catch you pilfering from the wine? Lifting from any pockets? Harassing any of the patrons?”
Xie Lian laughed, covering his mouth with a hand. “No. You might have guessed from my attire, but I am a cultivator. My path is one of abstinence. No alcohol and no licentious behaviour.”
“You are going to have very little to do in this town,” Xu Hao noted dryly, then shrugged. “Makes my life easier though. Speaking of your attire, what you are in is not going to work in this establishment. We have a uniform and you’ll need to wear it when you’re working.”
“Of course,” Xie Lian replied. “I suppose I need to find somewhere to live too.”
“We will provide food and board,” Xu Hao said, as if it were obvious. He must have caught Xie Lian’s raised eyebrows as he added, “You’re ours now, and Chengzhu looks after his own.”
“Chengzhu?”
“Hua Cheng. The Lord of Ghost City.”
Xie Lian just stared back at him. Was he supposed to know the name? Was he famous? Well, he supposed anyone who could rule over a pack of unruly ghosts must be someone of note.
“Supreme level ghost?” Xu Hao asked, then continued when Xie Lian showed no sign of recognition. “One of the Four Calamities? Crimson Rain Sought Flower? The Scourge of Heaven?”
Xie Lian shook his head at each successive title, silently impressed with this ghost for amassing such a swathe of awe-inspiring names. Honestly, Xie Lian was somewhat proud of himself for somehow missing such a person. “I’m sorry, I’ve heard none of these,” Xie Lian replied.
“Do you live under a rock?”
“Ah-hah, it has been known to happen,” Xie Lian laughed. “I travel a lot. I miss things sometimes.”
Xu Hao stared back, looking utterly perplexed, his eyebrows pulled in tight. “How long have you been in Ghost City?”
“Oh, I think I arrived around midnight.”
“So it took you four hours to find yourself indebted to us.” He watched Xie Lian with an unreadable look, his white eyes unblinking. “You really do have terrible luck.”
“I do,” Xie Lian replied with a smile.
Xu Hao stood up. “Follow me.”
Xie Lian did as he was told and was led back through the maze of hallways hidden within the Gambling Den and out into the street. Xu Hao walked him two blocks to a tall building squashed between a noodle bar and an ink shop. He followed Xu Hao up to the third floor before they stopped at an unmarked door.
“Your new home,” Xu Hao informed him, tossing him a key.
He snatched the metal piece out of the air on pure reflex.
Xie Lian stared at the key settled in his palm. He could not remember the last time he had a home. Somewhere that was his, really. He’d been wandering for so long recently, trying to never settle anywhere long enough to ruin anyone’s life or get dragged into another war.
“Thank you,” he said with a smile, shoving that thought away.
“Settle in, I’ll send Yanxun to bring you food,” Xu Hao said and pointed to the door to the left of his. “She lives there. Works in the kitchen. I’ll pick you up around midday and walk you through your jobs.”
Xie Lian nodded.
“You’re also going to need a mask,” Xu Hao added. “A proper one, to hide all of your”—he waved a hand in Xie Lian’s general direction—“life. We don’t want the customers getting hungry.” He flashed Xie Lian a sharp smile.
“Where do I—?”
Xu Hao held out a scaled hand, a small silver token in his palm. “Take this to the shop six doors that way.” He pointed further along the street they had walked along. “There’s a mask shop. Give the owner that and she’ll let you pick one.”
Xie Lian nodded.
“Questions?”
“None just now, thank you.”
“Good,” Xu Hao said, before offhandedly adding, “oh, and if you run, we will find you, and we will torture you for the six years you owe.”
At that just lovely threat, Xu Hao turned on his heel and stalked away, trotting down the stairs and vanishing into the throng of ghosts below.
Xie Lian glanced back down to the key and coin in his palm as Ruoye emerged from his sleeve to poke at both.
“It has been a strange day, hasn’t it Ruoye?” Xie Lian mused, running his other hand along the back of the cloth and ignoring the rumble of hunger from his stomach. “Let’s go get ourselves a mask. After that, I think we’ve earned a nap if nothing else.”
Ruoye curled in delight and retreated into Xie Lian’s sleeve.
He placed the key in his sleeve pocket and held the coin tightly in his fist. He could do this. He’d done worse things before. He’d in fact done something good today, he’d saved a man from losing the last of the time he might have had with his wife. What were six years to him in the vast scheme of his eternal life? It gave him time to discover how to leave—
He suddenly realised he never asked the man how to do so.
Shaking his head at himself, Xie Lian set off.
He followed the vague instructions given to him, counting along each shop as he continued down the street. Some made clothes, some sold food, and some seemed to be shut tight and dark, though ghosts were going in and out. Finally, he came to the shopfront of the mask shop, exactly six shops along.
The outside was visibly grimy. Black paint peeled off at the edges with messy calligraphy proclaiming it the best mask shop in Ghost City. He was not sure it was open. There were no lights on and no sound from within, and yet, as the last five minutes had shown him, more places were open than they appeared.
Xie Lian shrugged and carefully attempted to open the door. It did, opening with a perfect slide. As he stepped in, the first thing he noticed was the stench of mould and damp rising around him. Then, as his eyes slowly adjusted to the very low light of the room, he could see it was just as ill-kept as the outside. Shelves lined the walls, all covered in thick dark sheets, covered in dust with mould clinging to the edges of some. He wondered if the masks were beneath? He stepped closer, the dust on the floor rising about his shoe. He reached for the cloth—
“Hello, handsome,” a woman’s voice purred.
Xie Lian jumped, head spinning to see a ghost suddenly standing behind him. She was short but thin with long spindly hands, draped in a set of forest green robes that tattered at the edges. Thick waves of black hair fell loose down her shoulders, coming to a stop at her elbows. Her large eyes glowed a phosphorescent green in the shadow of the room, staring at him with a twisted smile.
The words dripped like honey from her tongue. “What’s a sweet little thing like you doing in my shop?”
Xie Lian held up the coin, brandishing it like a sword between them.
“Oh. Chengzhu’s people sent you,” she said, picking the coin from his fingertips and leaning back, the sensual attitude falling like a silken robe from her shoulders. “Alright. This way then.” She turned and walked away, expectant.
Xie Lian followed after her.
“What’s your name, little bunny?”
“Ah, Wujin,” he replied and ignored her little laugh. “Bunny?”
“It’s the white robes and the sweet, wide eyes,” she replied, pulling aside some hanging fabric from a doorway and pointing him through. “A cute white little bunny lost in the foxhole.” She grinned at him as he passed. It did not feel friendly.
“Am I to take that the Gambler’s Den is the foxhole you are referring to?” he asked politely, waiting for further instructions as he stood in a room filled with wooden cases.
“Wujin is not as foolish as he looks,” she laughed. “Watch out for your boss, he’s a clever, tricky thing. I’m sure he’d love to play with a little bunny like you.” She blinked, one eye after the other, then cocked her head toward the room. “Go look. Pick which one you like.”
He nodded and walked slowly around the cases in the room, lifting lids and looking through them with interest. He could feel the magic on each against his senses. Whatever she did, she did it well. There was a range to be chosen from: masks that looked like humans in various states of emotions, masks of gods, masks of demons, masks of creatures and animals, even one mask that faintly reminded his of the one he had worn the day he had caught that child from the sky—he paused as one caught his eye.
“I suppose I should pick this one,” Xie Lian said, picking up the white and gold mask with a little rabbit face staring back at him, with short, round ears that curved up around the top of the mask. He was almost surprised to find something so cute in a place like this. He glanced back over to the ghost, watching him from the doorway.
She stared back. “It would be fitting.”
He looked back at the white mask, the memory of another white mask suddenly superimposing it. Half smiling, half crying.
He pressed his lips together, grip tightening on the wood.
He let out a slow breath, pushing the thought away. He’d seen the attire of the others in the Gambler’s Den. Black and silver and red. He looked back over to the ghost. “You wouldn’t happen to have any black rabbits would you?”
“Sure,” she said and pointed two cases along.
Xie Lian placed the white rabbit mask back down where he had found it and moved to where she was pointing. Inside the case he found an almost identical mask, this one black with silver accents. It didn’t make him feel ill to look at. It would definitely do.
“This one,” he said, holding it in both hands and turning back to her.
She shrugged. “All yours then. You gave me the coin.”
“What does the mask do?” he asked, running his thumbs along the cool, smooth edge of it.
“It masks your life, or in most others’ case, their death. No aura, no smell, a mild affectation on the voice—makes you appear to be nothing, a shadow, just another worker.”
“It works on everyone?”
“Not completely. Not for gods from the Upper Court or Supreme ghosts,” she said. “Your boss will be able to tell you’re alive, but nothing beyond that—my masks are good. You will be a ghost to everyone else. We don’t get gods here. They don’t dare encroach on Chengzhu’s territory, and the only other living Supreme won’t enter the city without invitation.”
Xie Lian nodded. That was useful to know. He really needed to listen in on some gossip soon. All of this conversation about Supremes and Calamities and Scourges seemed important. He should probably try to know who his new boss was.
He took the cloth covering his face off and tucked it into his pocket. He stared at the back of the mask still held in his hands. It was light, though seemed to be made of solid wood.
“Oh, you are adorable aren’t you? Try not to look too tasty to Chengzhu,” she whispered, a lascivious expression on her face. “I hear he’s insatiable.”
Xie Lian just stared back at her.
She scowled. “Put on your mask and get the fuck out of my shop.”
Xie Lian bowed hastily, quickly fixing the mask to his face. He blinked as the enchantments took hold, suddenly able to see past the barrier in front of his face without any eye holes. Then he scampered out the door.
He stood in the street for a long, quiet moment, just watching the ghosts crying and yelling and calling out to each other, many well into their cups on Zhongyuan night. He wondered how he was going to make this home for the next six years.
Though, it could always be worse. At least here he had a roof over his head, the promise of regular meals, and the tenuous safety of an employer—or if he was being honest with himself, owner. The last hundred or so years had been a run of particularly bad luck and pain and death. If nothing else, he could hope for less pain. He would appreciate that. Dying hurt.
He considered how chilled the mask made him feel as he walked back to his new residence, rolling his fingers as he would in cold weather to warm them up.
He was looking forward to sleeping under a roof and, maybe, if luck was on his side (hah!), on a straw mat.
Xie Lian climbed the stairs to his accommodation. Upon entering, he found a small, two room abode. Red light streamed in from behind him and through a window on the opposite wall. It was bare bones: one small table and a tattered cushion beside it, a small stove, a basin, a lantern, and a straw mat with a folded blanket in the corner. A door half open to his left showed a dimly lit wash room. It was practically luxury.
“Ruoye,” Xie Lian said brightly after shutting the door behind him and lighting the lantern. “Welcome to our new home.”
He felt the brush of silk over skin as Ruoye slowly unwound itself from his wrist and extended outward from his sleeve. Xie Lian smiled to it and quietly investigated in more depth, placing his mask down on the nearby table. There was wood beneath the stove and an old kettle set with it. A few very chipped and cracked bowls and cups were also to be found. The straw mat looked equally worn, but not past using, and the blanket only had one hole in it—a blessedly small thing on one corner.
Xie Lian settled down on the mat when he was done investigating, pulling the blanket over them and feeling his body relax for the first time in days. He was asleep within moments.
A loud knock at his door woke him.
Xie Lian folded the blanket away and checked his robes were still in order, before hurrying over to the door and opening it.
“Hey,” the ghost on the other side said flatly. She was dressed in plain, faded blue robes with a half-mask of autumn leaves resting on the side of her head. Her face itself was pretty, though expressionless, rounded eyes and soft lips coated in careful makeup. A huge, jagged scar sprawled up her neck and across her lower jaw, icy white against her already bloodless skin.
“Hello,” he greeted her. “I take it you are Yanxun?”
“Yeah, Xu Hao wanted me to bring your food. After today though, you get it your damn self in the kitchen,” she snapped at him, handing over the box.
He nodded, taking it carefully in both his hands.
Yanxun crossed her arms. “What’s your name then?”
“Wujin,” he replied.
“Right. Well, If you need anything, Wujin, don’t bother me,” she said. “See you whenever—oh, and wear your fucking mask. Doesn’t matter how cute you are, gege, if the door’s open, they’re gonna be able to sense you. The warding’s not that good. Xu Hao wants you alive to work.”
“Thank you for your care, Yanxun,” he replied and bowed with his hands around the box.
She snorted. “Sure. Just try not to get eaten.”
He watched her walk to the door beside his, kick it open with a twist of her foot, and vanish inside.
Xie Lian returned within his own home, latching everything shut and settling himself at the small table, quietly hoping that the meal in his hands was made from something he could eat. He breathed in steadily and opened the lid.
A bowl of seared vegetables in a thick sauce, a bowl of rice, and a small container of two white tang yuan in syrup met him. The scent was unspeakably delicious, the food still hot and steaming within the container. Xie Lian’s heart lifted, his hunger redoubling at such an unexpected bounty.
When Xie Lian next woke from his second sleep, he felt much more rested. His stomach still comfortably full after such a nice meal, he took his time dressing and preparing himself for the day. Ruoye was happily exploring the room properly, one end latched around the shackle on Xie Lian’s leg and unfurling out from there, attempting to trip him like an affectionate stray cat.
He took the time now to open the wooden windows on the outer wall and lean out on the sill to view the city.
It was immense, sprawling off in all directions. Towers of mismatched buildings laid atop one another, creating a haphazard scene of wood and paint and lights. They crawled up into the sky to heights that Xie Lian had not seen in anything but the grandest cities over the centuries. Crimson lanterns hung off most building fronts before various alleys and streets fell away into an inky darkness with only faint movement seen within, or the reflection of eyes, or a fire.
Daytime itself was fascinating. Xie Lian was used to the sun, blue skies, and white clouds reflecting a rainbow of colours as the day began and ended. Here, the clouds were pulled completely across the sky with a dull red glow behind them, bathing the world in enough light to see, but evidently not enough to adversely affect the ghosts within.
He watched the denizens move through the streets with interest, watching paths meet and diverge, sometimes pausing to speak or scuffle or shout. One ghost, who appeared to have at least some visual aspects of a spider, skittered up the side of a building. They crawled over into a high balcony then settled themself there to stare down below just as Xie Lian did.
A knock sounded at the door behind him.
Xie Lian shut up the window, collected his shoes, and slapped on his mask on his path across the room. The same cool feeling washed over him as the mask was affixed to his face, hiding away his life and presenting him as a blank slate to the world of the dead around him. He opened the door to find Xu Hao standing there, waiting.
“Good afternoon,” Xie Lian greeted brightly as he began to tug on his shoes.
“Well aren’t you just chirpy,” Xu Hao groused.
Xie Lian just kept smiling at him and straightened when he was fully dressed. He felt fabric shift beneath his clothes as Ruoye settled somewhere around his wrist.
“Let’s go then,” Xu Hao said, stepping back and tipping his head towards the Gambler’s Den. “Interesting choice on the mask, though glad to see you wearing it.”
Xie Lian nodded. “Yanxun was most adamant about not opening the door without it.”
“Good. She’s right.”
They walked back to the Gambler’s Den, Xie Lian keeping on Xu Hao’s heels and listening as key buildings he was likely to be sent to—wine dealers, grocers, and butchers—were pointed out to him. Xu Hao also indicated toward a bright light in the distance, proclaiming it to be Paradise Manor, where Chengzhu lived.
As they walked, Xie Lian took note of the changed atmosphere of the city. The bustle was heavily diminished from the packed crowds on the street last night, and he was unsure if that was a product of daytime or just that it was no longer a festival. He watched the select few out and about this morning traverse the streets. A pack of five ghost children came hurtling around a corner and nearly crashed into him before bursting into laughter, thumbing their noses at him, and sprinting away at inhuman speeds. Shouting began from some levels above them. He found his heart clench, somehow nostalgic for the riotous mess of a large city.
When they finally made it back to the Den, it, like the city, was much quieter than the night before. There were still quite a few patrons, but it lacked the electric atmosphere and packed in airlessness that had been present when he left last night. Xu Hao nodded in greeting to one of the female ghosts in work attire as they entered and led Xie Lian back towards the side door.
Following a similar path taken the night before, Xie Lian was led through the winding passages hidden from the patrons and waved into a room he had not been in before. It was small, with a large, old bronze mirror covering most of the opposite wall. Around the room were a series of open shelves with fabric folded neatly in each section.
“Try these on,” Xu Hao said, handing him a pile of dark robes, a belt and red strips of fabric set on top. Xu Hao tapped at Xie Lian’s neck, his whole body going rigid at the unexpected touch. “That’s got to come off.”
Xie Lian blanched, slapping a hand over his neck, feeling the fabric wrapped tightly about the shackle beneath his palm. “I—I need to wear this.”
“What, you got scars under there?” Xu Hao asked. “Half the staff have scars, it doesn’t matter.”
Xie Lian said nothing, fumbling for words. There was no easy way to explain it. His mouth opened ineffectually.
“Whatever, but use this then,” Xu Hao cut in, handing Xie Lian another red strip of fabric. “We have a dress code.”
Xie Lian nodded, bowing forward. “Thank you, Xu Hao.”
“Get changed, check it all fits. If not, we’ll get it adjusted,” Xu Hao said. “When you’re done, meet me in the room across the hall.” At that, he left, sliding the door shut behind him.
Xie Lian stared down at the black and silver fabric in his hands. It was finer material than he had worn in years, well-made and soft. The inner robe was a deep, blood red, the fabric sheer and cool between his fingers. It would be good for not overheating in when things got busy. The next layer was what he had taken for black, but in this light, he could see it was truly a deep blue-black that shimmered in the light. This layer was trimmed with silver embroidery around the edges, delicate butterflies and flowers trailing along it in a swirling pattern. It was beautiful.
His hands shook as he put it on, one layer at a time, some unnamed anxiety taking hold in his chest and refusing to come unrooted.
Then, as he tied the belt around his waist and placed the mask upon his face, he turned to stare at himself in the cracked and tarnished mirror. It was strange. Xie Lian was not sure he recognised himself, so used to the plain white of his robes. He had also not had access to such a large mirror in over a hundred years, making do with small reflective pieces and the shivering reflection over water. He was thinner than the last time he had seen his full reflection, back as Guoshi Fangxin. Even more, it was jarring to see the cursed shackle so visible on his neck, obvious between the dark of the robes, his hair, and his mask. An inescapable blemish on his jade skin, but not even a scar to mark the horrors that had been done to his body—
He looked away.
He felt wrong in all of this finery. It had been so long since he had worn any fabric that did not feel coarse upon his skin. While this was not the most exceptional thing he had ever worn, not even by a long shot, it still felt so foreign. He sighed. He really did always prefer white, but he had to admit the dark fabric was somewhat flattering. What was the saying? For men to look handsome they must dress in all black? He wondered if this Hua Chengzhu knew the saying too. Perhaps he needed the black to enhance his appearance.
Xie Lian laughed to himself and coaxed Ruoye higher on his wrist and out of sight. If it needed to escape, then it could do so out of Xie Lian’s collar. He then carefully wrapped the remaining red fabric around his forearms, then paused to feel the press of something cold against his wrist. It was a stone sewn into the hem of the fabric. It was faintly carved with writing, and appeared to be enchanted in some way. He wondered at it, then used the two final pieces of red cloth to wrap one red strip around his shackled neck, and used the other to tie back his hair in his usual style.
He cast one final glance in the mirror to ensure everything was in place.
A strange, well dressed man with a rabbit’s face greeted him in the reflection. Nothing but a shadow.
He fled the room.
Xie Lian found Xu Hao exactly where he said he’d be. Within the opposite room, he was seated behind a small desk, inky hair floating above him as he dug through a pile of scrolls. Xie Lian stood to attention before the desk, military training slipping into place.
“Good, it fits well,” Xu Hao said, looking him up and down. “Change in that same room before and after your shifts. Lao Yin will wash it in-between. Pick one of the empty shelves to keep your other things in.”
Xie Lian nodded.
“Right. Given your skillset and what we’re lacking, you’re going to be starting with serving food and drink,” he said. “If you prove to be terrible with that, we will look at other jobs.”
Xie Lian nodded again. Serving should be doable. Then he asked, “What does this do?” holding up his right wrist, gesturing to the carved stone hidden beneath the sleeve of his robes.
“Ah, a quick way to send messages to the staff,” Xu Hao explained. “If it turns cold, the kitchen is summoning you to collect an order. If it turns hot, I am summoning you here.”
How clever. “Understood.”
Xu Hao stood. “I’ll go over all of that later. Come, a tour first.”
Xie Lian followed him back out onto the main floor, beginning at the back of the building. He was walked around the tables, the largest one set before a staired alcove covered by sheer red fabric, currently unmanned by any croupier. On either side of it were two smaller tables, only one of which currently manned by a ghost in a dragon mask that covered the top half of his face, the lower half showing a wide mouth with sharp, protruding teeth and a long tongue. Five ghosts sat at the table before him, dice and cards spread across the wood.
Closer towards the entrance was the haphazard collection of smaller gambling tables suited to perhaps four patrons at most. Six of these were laid out in clear rows with paths and seats scattered around them for casual conversation or observing the tables. Against the wall of this section was a large counter with a female ghost standing behind it, taking orders and serving drinks between watching the room silently. She was unnaturally tall with long midnight hair that fell to her waist, loose and adorned with beads and ribbons. The mask she wore covered her whole face and was of clouds, the paint colour changing from white to deep, storm-grey as they travelled across her face.
Xu Hao led Xie Lian over to the woman, who watched them approach with apparent disinterest, her forearms resting solidly on the bench before her, showing off the low cut of her robes.
“Lianzhu, this is your newest helper, Wujin,” Xu Hao greeted her. “Wujin, you will be training with Lianzhu for your first few shifts and will report to her each night.”
Xie Lian nodded and bowed to Lianzhu. “This one thanks Lianzhu for her instruction.”
Lianzhu chuckled brightly, tipping her head to examine him. “Wujin can call me Zhu-jie if he likes.”
Xie Lian nodded, unsure if he would in fact do that.
“Come. We will return later,” Xu Hao said and led Xie Lian closer towards the entrance of the Gambler’s Den.
This portion of the hall was made up of tables and seats for patrons to use at their own will. Places to rest or eat or drink with companions or alone, far more of a social area than made for gambling. Off in a far corner was a small stage where Xie Lian imagined a performer might stand.
Xie Lian was led around past the entrance and upstairs, his fingers trailing along the smooth wood of the bannister.
“Is it always more quiet during the day?” Xie Lian asked as they reached the top of the stairs and stared down at the gambling floor below.
“Time of day doesn’t have much to do with anything here,” Xu Hao said, leaning up against one of the pillars and looking back to Xie Lian. “We don’t close and it fluctuates at random, but is always busier if Chengzhu is in. It’s quiet today as everyone drinks to excess on Zhongyuan Festival. Many will be sleeping it off this week.”
“Why is it busier with Chengzhu here?”
“Chengzhu is a marvel, for one, and the other ghosts like to just see him just to say they did,” Xu Hao replied. “That and he takes on the real wagers. Anything big, powerful, incredible, impossible, whatever—any wish, he’s the man to ask it of.” A grin of sharp teeth. “If you can beat him.”
“Do people win?”
“Rarely. Very, very rarely,” Xu Hao replied. “Chengzhu is incredibly lucky.”
The opposite of himself then, Xie Lian thought wryly.
“Is Chengzhu here often?”
“No, and he’s away at present. No idea when he’s coming back.” Xu Hao stepped up to the edge of the railing on the second floor. He leant his forearms on the bannister and cocked his head for Xie Lian to follow.
Xie Lian moved up beside him.
Xu Hao pointed to a series of steps that led to a sheer red curtain at the far end of the gambling hall, falling carefully to hide what must have been a separate chamber. “When he is present, he will be found in there. No one else is to use that space, and you are never to enter it unless asked to by Chengzhu or told to by me. If he ever speaks to you, do exactly as he says. Got it?”
Xie Lian nodded. “Yes.”
“Hm. Good,” Xu Hao said. “I doubt we’ll see him here for a while.”
“Where does he go?”
“That is none of your or my business.”
Fair enough.
Xu Hao pushed off the bannister. “I’ll show you the upper floors.”
Xie Lian was walked upstairs through the private suites—his guess had been correct! They were rooms that could be reserved for a hefty price, and the guests would have their own private servers to wait on them for the duration of their booking. Each suite had its own small bar, currently empty as there were no reservations coming up, but the rooms were pristinely clean and organised. A long table filled each room, with soft, beautifully decorated cushions surrounding each.
They wound their way up the remaining stories of increasingly smaller rooms, until ending in a small alcove with a ladder leading up to a closed trapdoor.
“That will take you to the roof,” Xu Hao said. “You won’t need to go up there unless a flag needs repair or some asshole needs chasing off the roof.”
Xie Lian nodded and they walked all the way back down to the bottom floor, the quiet thud of the wood beneath their feet a quiet rhythm above the slowly growing chatter below. They wound their way through the back hallways again, passing the rooms Xie Lian was now acquainted with and led towards the clang and shouts of what he assumed was the kitchen.
“Kitchen,” Xu Hao said in confirmation, walking through the door and into the warm haven of the kitchen. It smelt divine, for the most part. Xie Lian could see three people working hard around the space, much of it appearing to be preparation work for the rest of the night ahead.
“This is our head chef, Lei-ge.”
A short, stocky man in an apron and plain clothes waved carelessly towards Xie Lian, knife still gripped in his hand. “Hey,” he greeted, head tipping briefly to Xie Lian, his voice like the rumble of a thunderstorm. He, like Xu Hao, was not wearing a mask, though his face was…difficult to parse. Xie Lian could not have described it or understood what his eyes were seeing if someone held a knife to his throat and demanded an answer. Somehow though, Xie Lian was able to sense a feeling of, perhaps welcome and slight frustration. It was strange.
“Over by the sink is Baihua,” Xu Hao continued, nodding to a partially translucent ghost at the back, “and Yanxun is by the shelves.”
Yanxun, Xie Lian remembered, had been the woman who had dropped off his meal last night and lived in the rooms beside his. She spared him a brief glance and a loose wave. The other ghost, whose body seemed to shift in and out of visibility, but not corporality, gave him a sharp nod from the sink. They were of middling height and lanky in an unnatural way, with an unusually bald head for someone who appeared so young and ink tattooed on most of the available surface of their skin.
“The others you will meet as you work here more,” Xu Hao said, already leaving the room.
Xie Lian followed him out and trotted up beside Xu Hao. “Is…last night’s meal was vegetables,” Xie Lian began slowly as they walked through the hall. “Is all your food safe for human consumption?”
“Anything we give you will be fine. You’re not the first human we’ve had indentured here,” Xu Hao said flatly. “First one for a while, sure, but it tends to be the back-up collateral for higher level bets when Chengzhu is away.”
“Oh,” Xie Lian breathed out.
“What did you want anyway?” Xu Hao asked. “Must’ve been something decent for six years.”
“I didn’t want anything,” Xie Lian replied. “The man who was betting wanted his wife’s illness to be cured.”
Xu Hao stopped in his tracks, head snapping around to stare at Xie Lian. His hair floated in a cloud around his face. “It wasn’t your bet?”
“No.”
The frown on his brow deepened. “Was the man your friend?”
Xie Lian laughed. “No, honestly I forgot to ask him his name.”
“And yet you gave him six years of your life,” Xu Hao said. “Are you stupid or are you overconfident? How old are you?”
“Older than I look,” Xie Lian replied with a smile, though it was hidden behind his mask.
“Hm. Don’t cause any trouble here,” Xu Hao said firmly. “I don’t know why you did that, but I promise you if you step out of line Chengzhu will ensure you become nothing but a memory and a smear on the stones outside.”
“I just wanted to help,” Xie Lian assured him. “No trouble.”
Xu Hao laughed, shook his head, and continued down the hall.
Hm. That was the most common response to that sentiment.
Xie Lian was led through another door and down another level to a barely lit room. It was chilly beneath the earth, and smelled of it; damp and dust catching in his nose.
“The cellar,” Xu Hao said. “You’ll need to get familiar with this place. We keep the most popular choices on hand upstairs, but sometimes you’ll run out or you’ll get a ghost with a fond memory and deep pockets—and Chengzhu has impeccable taste.”
Xie Lian was led around the whole cellar, listening attentively as Xu Hao spoke about each bottle and divided section, with some general information on pricing. It seemed fairly straightforward, which was good. He had vaguely worried he would have to deal in odd currencies, but the Den seemed to work with coin and precious metal as much of the human world did. It helped that while Xie Lian had not drunk much alcohol over the years, he had certainly heard a lot about it. There were a number of spirits he recognised as being very popular.
He even sighted one bottle he knew he remembered his parents drinking before…before.
He paused at it while Xu Hao continued into the next row, still talking passionately about rice wines.
Xie Lian stood before it, staring in unwieldy emotion at such a buried memory just left out on a dusty shelf in the cellar of a gambling hall in Ghost City. He wondered if it still tasted the same as it had when his parents drank it. He wondered if his parents had enjoyed it. They must have, for him to remember it. He wondered if he would like it.
Xie Lian drew one careful finger over the characters. A once familiar script now appearing so foreign. It hadn’t even changed drastically in six hundred years, but it had changed.
He wanted to cry.
“Oh, this one here is very popular amongst—Wujin! Where’d you go?”
“Coming, coming,” Xie Lian called, faking a smile onto his face to push down the feeling. “I was admiring some of the artwork on the bottles.”
“Mn, there’s some pretty things down here, but focus.” Xu Hao resumed the lesson.
Hours had passed by the time the full tour was over. Xie Lian had seen every room in the building, bar the curtained room reserved for Chengzhu, and felt he had a fairly solid grasp of the layout.
“You’re going to be working the morning shift until you get the hang of things,” Xu Hao said. “I expect you here at sunrise and you’ll be let off mid afternoon. What you do in your hours off, we don’t care, just don’t get into trouble. If you bring any trouble here, your debt will be extended. Don’t eat anything you haven’t made yourself from things the kitchen gives you, or that the kitchen has cooked. You owe us six years, and we will have six years. Death won’t end that.”
Xie Lian resisted saying that death wouldn’t stop him, and said instead, “I understand.”
“And don’t forget to keep the mask on.”
“En.”
“Good, now, go eat and then serve some customers. Lianzhu will direct you.”
Xie Lian bowed and did exactly that.
Returning to the kitchen he was handed a soup filled with fat dumplings and shooed into a corner where a small table and seats were set up. Xie Lian hid himself in the corner, lifted his mask enough to eat, and lost himself in the warming joy of hot, delicious food. He had to give it to the kitchen of the Gambler’s Den, they were excellent at what they did. Were Xie Lian a ghost with coin to spare, he would certainly be making a trip here when he could to buy himself a meal.
“Thank you,” he said, leaving his empty bowl by the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes.
Baihua, the tattooed ghost he had been introduced to earlier, just nodded to him, their hands fading in and out of existence as they picked up the next stack of dishes and began washing them.
Lianzhu was waiting for him back in the main hall, leant up against one of the gambling tables and speaking quietly with the croupier with the dragon mask he had seen earlier. Both their masks snapped around to look at him as he moved closer. He thought he heard something whispered between them, then Lianzhu stepped away.
“See you later, Tan-ge,” Lianzhu said before she approached Xie Lian, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “So, Wujin, time to show you our little role in this place. It’s a pretty good job most of the time, as much as I hear you’re here as payment.” She tittered to herself.
Suddenly, she clapped him on the back, surprisingly firmly, and were he not inhumanly strong and an ex-martial god, it may have felled him. Her head turned to look at him, a bell tinkling from somewhere in her hair. “Oh, not such a pushover then, hey? Good, good. You might last the whole six years then.” She petted his shoulder twice more, much lighter than before, almost companionably, and began showing him the ropes.
“Over there is Chunchun,” Lianzhu said, pointing over to a woman in the Den’s colours with a fan fluttering in her hand as she spoke to a patron. She was gifted with soft wide curves and a round face, the top half of which was covered with a mask made of what looked like fresh flowers, but surely couldn’t be unless it was superbly spelled, though here that was perhaps possible. “It’s just us two today, given it's so damn quiet. She’ll keep an eye on things while I show you the main stations.”
Thus, once they made it to the bar he had met her at earlier in the day, began a second deluge of information. She quizzed him on what Xu Hao had covered: what drinks were available and what cost what and what currencies and non-currencies were acceptable as payment. She reiterated that promises and secrets were not accepted, no matter how a patron begged, but jewellery or gems looked over by Xu Hao could be accepted. She ran him through the codes and signs used by the Den’s staff: indicators of problem patrons or who needed removing as soon as possible, flagging possible cheats and known troublemakers, or just who was being a pain in the ass.
When she felt he had heard enough, his mind half swimming with it, she set him loose on the floor. He took orders and payments and tidied up after patrons had left. He made good use of his battle-honed senses to keep an eye on the patrons and ensure nobody had truly bad intentions. Lianzhu had already informed him that some bloodshed and scuffling was normal and acceptable, but all out brawls or complex magics or curses were absolutely not allowed and the guard stationed toward the middle needed to be alerted as soon as possible. Today this warrior was a large, heavily built man in solid black robes with red trim and a red, unadorned mask that covered just the eyes. He had slightly curled black hair which was pulled back into a tail. Lianzhu informed Xie Lian his name was Jianrupanshi—yes, the whole idiom—though staff were allowed to call him Shi-ge. Looking at him, Xie Lian thought it a fitting name. She also told him the two ghosts hired as muscle weren’t always here. Usually just on busy nights, nights Hua Chengzhu was in, and any day they felt might draw in trouble. Apparently the day after the Zhongyuan Festival had a fifty-fifty chance of drawing in drunken rabble looking for a fight. So far, that had not been the case today.
In the end, his first shift ended with surprisingly few mishaps. He only managed to spill one glass, and did so out of sight of anyone, so was able to clean up the mistake before anyone saw. It was, however, mildly chaotic, but Xie Lian had worked in far worse situations in his life, taking an order or fetching food and drinks was well within his skillset.
Lianzhu finished her shift shortly before his, leaving him with Chunchun for a short time. She seemed reluctant to speak with him much, and he left her enough space to go about their own tasks until his time ran up and the next server, a man with the head and taloned feet of a sparrow-hawk, but the rest of his body was human, arrived. Chunchun had greeted him as Lin Zhan. Returning within the corridor walls, Xie Lian changed back into his own things, picked up a bowl of rice and vegetables from the kitchen, and took himself home.
Once his meal was eaten, he returned to the window, reopening the wooden panels and setting a cup of water on the sill as he sat and watched the crimson light fade from the sky. Slowly, the clouds parted and vanished over the horizon leaving Xie Lian with a starry sky turning above him, exactly the one he was used to seeing every other night before this one.
He let out a long breath, feeling the tension that had gathered at his shoulders fall away.
“We did well, didn’t we?” Xie Lian asked to Ruoye, glancing down to his loosely tied inner robes.
Ruoye peeked up and out at him, twisting in an excited dance. Xie Lian took it as agreement.
“I think I could like it here,” Xie Lian mused out loud, watching the unceasing bustle of Ghost City below.