Chapter Twenty-Six: The Ghost Market

The window outside the maid’s room where I lived was oddly designed; even in broad daylight, sunlight couldn’t penetrate. I had to keep the lights on all day, and I rarely went out. Ever since Qianling’s recent commotion, there had been no progress regarding the Ming Tombs. So apart from my three daily meals, I spent almost all my time in the room. Outside the window was little more than a hand-sized skylight, and every night at three, the moonlight would slide in, shining precisely into a corner of the room.

Half-asleep, I opened my eyes. There, in the sole patch of moonlight, I saw a woman sitting—dressed in a white dress, her long hair veiling her face from the moon’s glow. I couldn’t see her features clearly.

Startled, a cold sweat broke over my body. I shot upright, too quickly, bumping my head and shrinking into the corner of the bed, hardly daring to breathe.

“It’s time to get up,” the woman said, standing and walking slowly toward me.

Her face emerged in the moonlight—a faint, curious smile playing at her lips.

“Qianling?!” I let out a long breath of relief and lifted my head. “You scared the life out of me. What are you doing here in the middle of the night, trying to frighten me?”

“Who has the time to scare you? Get up, quickly.” She tossed some clothes onto my face.

“Get up?” I asked, bewildered. “What for?”

“Come out shopping with me.” Qianling grew more excited as she spoke.

“Shopping? Now?!” I gaped at her for a long moment before I understood. “Miss, I beg you, stop tormenting me. Do you know what time it is? If you want to go shopping, go haunt a ghost!”

Qianling suddenly nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re right—we’re going to see ghosts!”

Xiao Lianshan, having heard the noise, rushed over from his room. He found me reluctantly getting dressed while Qianling stood by, brimming with excitement.

“Bro, where are you going?” he asked.

“Qianling wants me to go shopping with her,” I murmured, only half awake.

“Now? It’s only three in the morning—not even ghosts are out this late,” Lianshan said, astonished.

“How would you know if you haven’t seen them? I’m taking him to see ghosts today.” Qianling shook her head with conviction. “You stay here and mind the house. You wouldn’t be of any use where we’re going.”

I rubbed my eyes and sighed deeply, patting Lianshan’s shoulder as I passed.

“This is all my own doing. Just stay home. Let her torment me alone—it’s enough for one person to suffer.”

We left the villa, Qianling driving with the gas pedal pressed to the floor. I had the distinct feeling she was racing to be reincarnated. Several times, I couldn’t resist dozing off, only to be rudely awakened by Qianling’s shouts.

I didn’t even ask where we were going. Life and death hardly mattered to me anymore—if I could steal a few more moments of sleep, I’d be grateful.

The car rolled to a stop. I glanced at my watch through bleary eyes.

It was four thirty in the morning.

By the roadside, under the dim streetlights and dappled shadows of the trees, a crowd surged—hustle and bustle, voices blending into a cacophony. Headlights from a passing car illuminated faces—some leaning, some pulling carts—flickering in and out of view like ghosts.

I gradually woke up, my curiosity piqued by the scene.

“What… what is this place?” I asked.

“The Ghost Market,” Qianling replied nonchalantly.

“The Ghost Market?”

Frowning, I got out of the car and saw that both sides of the street were lined with stalls. I wandered a few steps, looking around. There was everything: antique-style furniture, calligraphy and painting supplies, rare books and scrolls, agate, jade, coins from home and abroad, shadow puppets, opera masks, religious relics, ethnic costumes, even Cultural Revolution memorabilia, and daily necessities.

Apart from firearms, drugs, and people, anything valuable could be found here.

I grew interested, browsing the dazzling array of goods and asking curiously, “Qianling, what is this place really?”

“This is Jiuyan Bridge. This market dates back to the late Qing and early Republican eras. When the nation declined, countless officials and nobles saw their fortunes fall and secretly took their antiques to the streets to sell,” Qianling explained, squatting by a stall. “It was a matter of dignity, after all. So transactions only took place at three or four in the morning, by lantern light.”

I suddenly understood and smiled. “So this is the Ghost Market.”

Qianling turned to me, her expression gravely serious. “Don’t laugh. This place is no joke. Back in the day, all sorts of mysterious objects would change hands at the Ghost Market—each with unspeakable secrets. They were often sold at a pittance, which is why there’s a saying: ‘Good wares come from the Ghost Market.’”

I rubbed my forehead, chuckling wryly. “So you dragged me out here in the dead of night to hunt for treasures? You think everyone’s a fool but you? That the good stuff is just waiting for you to pick?”

“My father says you’re an expert in antiques—so skilled even Uncle Huo admits defeat. I brought you here to see just how much you know.” Qianling pursed her lips, proud and defiant.

The Ghost Market at Jiuyan Bridge drew all walks of life, in addition to its dazzling antiques and artwork.

We hadn’t gone far when Qianling stopped abruptly, pointing and laughing. “Look, one of your own!”

Following her finger, I saw an old man, perhaps in his sixties, legs crossed as he sat by the roadside. Despite the chill of the early hour, he wore only thin clothes but looked energetic, his white beard drifting in the breeze, lending him a somewhat ethereal air.

On his stall stood a table. He fanned himself with a paper fan, a sign propped up behind him reading: “Iron Mouth Predictions.”

Before I could react, Qianling pushed me onto the stool in front of his table. “He wants his fortune told!”

I tried to get up but Qianling’s hand clamped down on my shoulder.

“Tell his fortune,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“You don’t even believe in this stuff. Why are you making such a fuss?” I protested, ill at ease.

Qianling leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Now we’ll see—a trickster meets a trickster. I want to see just how slick you are at fooling others.”

“How can you joke about fate?” I protested, but Qianling’s grip only tightened.

The old man, seeing a customer, wasn’t about to let me leave. He closed his fan and gestured to his sign. “Don’t worry, young man. ‘Iron Mouth Predictions’ isn’t a title I gave myself lightly. I’ve been telling fortunes at Jiuyan Bridge’s Ghost Market for thirty years. Those who respect me call me ‘Half-Immortal Zhao.’ If I’m wrong, you don’t pay.”

I had no words and nodded with an awkward smile. “Fine, then—predict my future.”

“Your birth date and hour?” Zhao Half-Immortal snapped his fan shut, affecting a sage-like air.

“Uh… I don’t know my birth date or hour,” I admitted, a bit embarrassed.

“Don’t pretend! How can you not know when you were born?” Qianling nudged me, glaring.

Truth was, I genuinely didn’t know. Qin Yishou had never told me, and I’d never dared to ask. At Shishan, the other kids got red eggs on their birthdays each year. I never did.

“No matter,” Zhao Half-Immortal said. “I’m skilled in all methods: Plum Blossom Divination, Qimen Dunjia, drawing lots—take your pick.”

I figured drawing lots would be easiest and quickest.

He handed me the bamboo canister, but as he did, one stick slipped out. He was about to put it back when I stopped him. “No need. This one will do.”

“‘A beauty’s charm, do not be troubled; peach and plum, day and night, blessings always ahead.’” Zhao Half-Immortal glanced at the lot, then at Qianling standing beside me. He shook his head. “Young man, this lot is neither good nor bad.”

“What does it mean?” Qianling asked, curiosity piqued.

He nodded sagely. “It means, ‘Beware the perils of desire—do not be fickle. The peach and plum day and night means don’t chase one after another, picking peaches while coveting plums. Blessings ahead means the lady at your side is your benefactor—treat her well, and she’ll help you through misfortune in the future.’”

“Beware of desire… don’t be fickle.” Qianling burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “Pretty accurate! I always said you’re a flirt, but no one believed me. Look, it’s written right here. And I’m your benefactor—you’d better treat me well! Otherwise, if you cross me, no one will save you from trouble, ha!”

I nodded calmly, saying nothing.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked.

“Ha, it’s all fated. If your fortune is good, pay more; if not, pay less,” Zhao Half-Immortal said, waving his fan indifferently.

I searched my bag and found only thirteen yuan, so I rummaged for more.

Seeing my generosity—an entire day’s earnings in one go—Zhao Half-Immortal grinned from ear to ear. “That’s enough, that’s enough. Fate decides—no need to force it.”

“It’s not enough—five more,” I replied meaningfully, pushing an extra five yuan from Qianling toward him. “Eighteen in total. And your sign’s right under the eaves. Last night’s rain dripped all over it. You’d better move your table forward.”

He pocketed the money and glanced at the sign—sure enough, it was soaked. He hurriedly shifted the table half a meter forward.

During my fortune-telling, a curious crowd had gathered. As I left, I spotted an old man among them whose gaze was unlike the others—his eyes held a trace of surprise as he watched me.

We hadn’t walked far when a commotion rang out behind us. Qianling, curious, went back and found an even bigger crowd around Zhao Half-Immortal’s stall.

“That was close! If I hadn’t just moved the table, that brick would have hit me on the head,” Zhao Half-Immortal said, climbing up from the ground, visibly shaken.

A cat had been prowling the eaves and accidentally knocked a loose brick down. It landed right where Zhao Half-Immortal had been sitting. Startled, he’d jumped up, lost his balance, and crashed into a neighboring stall’s vase.

“Zhao, that’s my new stock from the countryside. It’s not worth much, but you can’t have me take a loss, can you?”

“Don’t make a scene—I broke it, I’ll pay. How much?”

“We’ve been neighbors for decades—I won’t cheat you. Eighteen yuan, the price I paid.”