The Ghost Market

"The coffin wood is sunken-yang timber, marked with water-calming patterns, and seven nails are set in the shape of the Big Dipper. The person inside didn't have an easy passing."

Chen Mo cupped his hands to the group and continued, "It's rare to transport a coffin by water, though. Aren't you worried the jostling will disturb the guest?"

The old craftsman finally stopped wiping.

He tapped the coffin lid, producing a dull, hollow knock. "Everything that needed settling has been settled. We're sending the guest home."

"Little brother, you've got a sharp eye." The old craftsman slowly straightened and looked at Chen Mo. "What line of work are you in?"

"I make paper dolls to earn a living." Chen Mo gestured toward his handcart. "My work can't compare to the masters' craft."

A strange glint flashed in the old craftsman's cloudy eyes. He looked over the handcart covered with a straw mat again, then nodded. "No wonder you can see what's what. But the aura about you doesn't look like you only make ordinary paper boys and girls."

Chen Mo neither confirmed nor denied it. His gaze swept over the young craftsmen, whose clothes were dusted with soil unlike that around Jin City—the distinctive red earth found farther south.

"Are you from the south? The papers said a drought struck there a few days ago."

The old craftsman sighed, glanced around, then lowered his voice. "By the time we left Yongzhou, carriages could already travel along the riverbed."

A young craftsman beside him couldn't help but cut in. "It wasn't a natural disaster. Something came up from the earth and sucked the water veins dry."

"An Emanation of Drought?" Chen Mo slowly uttered the words.

"You've heard about it too? That's right. The old folks have been whispering about it. They're afraid an Emanation of Drought has appeared."

The old craftsman gave him a long look. "Once one of those things appears, it's not just one or two counties that are affected. Along the way, we've already seen several streams of refugees, families in tow, moving toward places that still have water."

"It won't be long before Linhe County is packed with refugees from the south, too."

Chen Mo's gaze tightened. "Is it already that bad?"

"It'll only get worse." The wrinkles on the old craftsman's face deepened. After a moment, he continued, "When we were on our way here, we ran into another master from your paper-crafting trade."

"The man's surname was Chen. He had a woman with him who looked rather frail, as well as a quick-witted girl of about ten."

"Did Master Chen have any distinctive features?" Chen Mo was a little stunned. Could it really be such a coincidence?

In the original owner's memories, Chen Dachuan had apparently gone south, then vanished without a trace for more than three months.

"Tall and thin, with a square face and thick eyebrows." The old craftsman recalled. "There was an old scar on the end of his right eyebrow, and a deep claw mark ran from the web of his left hand to his wrist. But his hands were astonishingly steady when he worked with paper."

A scar on his eyebrow, a claw mark on his hand.

Chen Mo was speechless. The original owner knew those two marks all too well.

It was Chen Dachuan. Had he also been keeping a mistress out there?

"Were they headed for Linhe too?" Chen Mo's expression turned complicated.

As for the original owner's so-called father, Chen Mo couldn't say he felt much affection for him.

But he'd taken over the man's body and inherited his memories and karma. He couldn't exactly treat him like a stranger, could he?

"Yes. They took the land route, so they were slower than us. They should be reaching Linhe County soon."

Linhe County, Funeral Street, the courtyard of Deliverance Studio.

Dust-covered from the road, Chen Dachuan pushed open the courtyard gate. Lady Liu followed behind him, her face pale, along with a clever-looking girl of six or seven.

The courtyard looked much as it had when he left. Several half-finished paper dolls, their bamboo frames draped in cloth, looked rather lonely in the dusk.

"This is the place. It's a little bare, but you two can make do in that brat's room tonight."

Chen Dachuan's voice was heavy with weariness. Days of travel and a mind weighed down with worries had left him looking older than he was.

After settling Lady Liu and her daughter in, he hurried next door.

He pushed open the door and went straight to a black wooden cabinet in the corner. Taking out a key, he unlocked it.

The stack of talisman paper that had once been neatly arranged inside had dwindled to just three thin sheets, lying forlornly at the bottom of the box.

"Only three sheets left?!"

Chen Dachuan's face twitched with heartache. "That good-for-nothing brat! I've only been gone a little while. What did he do, paper over the windows with them?!"

He remembered there had been a thick stack in the box when he left.

He'd spent a full ten silver dollars on that sheaf of talisman paper, and even he usually couldn't bear to use it.

He'd never expected to go away for a while and come back to find it reduced to almost nothing.

"Truly, a son can sell his father's fields without a care!"

Chen Dachuan's chest tightened. He slammed the cabinet door shut. "I'll deal with him when I get back tonight!"

He took a deep breath to tamp down his anger, then got up and headed toward the shopfront.

He hoped the things in the cellar hadn't been squandered by that little brat, too.

In Jin City, the sky hadn't yet grown completely dark, but dim yellow lights were already coming on throughout the streets.

A streetcar clanged past, carrying a gust of air mixed with coal smoke and a faint trace of perfume.

Neon signs flashed on the second floors of some buildings, illuminating hurried figures and the occasional black automobile, with indistinct dignitaries seated inside.

The night here was a world apart from the one in Linhe County.

And this was only the outskirts of Jin City. They said the downtown area was even livelier.

After taking in the sights for a while, Chen Mo pulled his handcart, covered with a straw mat, and silently blended into the throng.

He'd already sold the gold and silver jewelry obtained from the Black Tiger Gang, exchanging it for dark green banknotes bearing the words Bank of Communications, in various denominations.

He'd exchanged it all for more than 2,200 silver dollars, which he'd hidden in a lining close to his body.

Now, the most dangerous thing he carried was the parcel of yin soil, sealed tightly in waxed paper.

The stuff was valuable, a hard currency on the black market, but it also carried the greatest risk.

Jin City might be chaotic, but the trade in yin soil was deeply entrenched.

He didn't know the city or its people. If he recklessly went looking for a buyer, he could easily invite trouble he didn't need.

"If all else fails, I'll take it to the Ghost Market and sell it there!"

After some thought, Chen Mo pulled his handcart into the deepening night and headed west, toward the White Bone Tower.

The farther west he went, the quieter and more dilapidated the streets became. Streetlamps grew sparse and dim, and the houses on either side turned low and shabby.

The city's glittering restlessness gradually faded away.

The White Bone Tower wasn't actually a tower but a desolate mound on slightly higher ground. It had gotten its name from its long use as an execution ground and mass grave.

They said bones carpeted the ground beneath it, and the yin energy was especially heavy.

Few people went near it even during the day. At night, it was a forbidden place that the people of Jin City shuddered to mention.

But for that very reason, some shady dealings took place there.

Over time, a Ghost Market had formed, known only within certain circles.

When Chen Mo arrived, thin clouds veiled the crimson moon, letting through only a hazy, ghastly red glow.

Figures shifted in the shadows around the mound, but they were all unnaturally quiet.

Even when they spoke, they kept their voices to a whisper, like ghosts murmuring.

Nobody carried lanterns or torches. Buyers and sellers alike had their faces covered, using dim flashlights to see one another.

Most of what changed hands here was of unknown origin or forbidden by custom.

There were grave goods from tomb robbers, stolen property from wealthy households, firearms that had disappeared from the military, and even all kinds of rare, unorthodox medicines and talismans.