Features of a Ghost

Mao Jin put down the bamboo ladle abruptly as Song Weiming's words drifted in from outside. Somehow the change of tone in the other's voice made him guess what had happened. He felt his heart give a lurch of panic.

"Wanwan," he said lowly and urgently, turning quickly to the little maid as she was busy sweeping up the broken teacup. "Where's Madame?"

Wanwan turned a surprised face to him. "Madame said she would prefer to stay in her chamber. She said it would be better for her and you not to let your guest see her, as it might give rise to gossip."

Without really knowing what he was going to do, Mao Jin stood up and strode out of the room.

For the moment he had forgotten about his own feud with Song Weiming. All he knew was that Madame Bai's privacy must not be disturbed. He felt this, as keenly as he had felt his own trampled and disregarded.

His voice rang out down the walkway, stopping Song Weiming in his tracks.

"Why is Song Gongzi suddenly seized with a desire to tour my humble abode?"

Song Weiming turned. "Why," he sneered, eager to pounce on the weak spot he had discovered. "Is there something perhaps that Mao Gongzi doesn't want me to see?"

His eyes were challenging. Mao Jin overtook him rapidly in a few strides, blocking the screen door before the chamber at the end. With a level smile, he bowed slightly. "Song Gongzi's imagination is admirable. Perhaps you should take to writing some books in your spare time at the hot springs. Weren't you in a big hurry to go there a few moments ago?"

Song Weiming folded his arms. "What if I decide I want to take a look at the rest of your wretched house first? Are you going to prevent me?"

Mao Jin stared back defiantly. This had become more than just Madame Bai, or just Song Weiming being the asshole he had always been. This was the wound that Song Weiming had just casually opened up after years, the wound he had always been hurting from yet never even acknowledged to himself.

"Yes." he said finally. "You have no right to walk around my house without my permission. Now leave."

He felt an enormous weight roll off his chest as he said it, and a wave of giddiness as if he had found himself standing right on the edge of a cliff.

There was a tense silence. Song Weiming's servants glanced at each other, guessing that their master would soon call them forward. Wanwan peered out with wide eyes, one hand straying to her mouth unconsciously. She had a habit of biting her nails whenever she was excited or engrossed.

They were both startled by a soft rustling sound as Bai Suzhen stepped out from behind the screen. Swathed in a cloak, she held a round fan before her face. Through the thin material the faintest glimpse of her features could be seen like a ghost.

"Mao Gongzi need not worry. Song Gongzi and I, we are not strangers."

There was a smile in her voice, which was low and melodious.

Song Weiming stared at her, frowning. He was trying to make out her face but she was standing too far away, with the light behind her. The voice--was it familiar?

She laughed softly and beckoned him to come closer. "Does Song Gongzi not recognize me?"

As he approached, she ever so slowly lowered the fan, revealing a pair of eyes that gleamed at him over the fan's edge, and he was struck by a sudden uneasiness.

Mao Jin watched on, bewildered, and the attendants hovered uncertainly in the background, wondering what was going on. Suzhen stepped back as Song Weiming approached, so that they were standing just on the threshold of the chamber, out of hearing from the others.

"You were so excited just now, telling Mao Gongzi about a demoness. That was very bold of you. Had you never considered that she might overhear?" Suzhen's voice was a mere whisper in the wind.

Turning her head, she held the fan aside wordlessly, revealing her face to him even as she screened it from the sight of the others.

Song Weiming gasped faintly. He clutched at the screen door for support, eyes widening. An unhealthy grayness spread over his face. He tried to say her name, but the sudden appearance when he least expected it completely wrecked him.

Suzhen's lips curved in a mirthless smile. "Did you think I had forgotten about you, Song Weiming? Or do you think I would be amused by the ridiculous stories you spun about me?"

She studied the terror in his eyes keenly. "I let you off that night because I said I had no interest in shedding your blood. But many things have happened since, and upon reconsidering, I feel that it might be very satisfying after all."

Her eyes flashed and her chin came forward slightly as if she was about to pounce on him, and Song Weiming cringed immmediately, though she had not actually moved.

"Get out," Suzhen hissed. "Take to your heels like the worthless scum you are, and remember that no matter where you go I can appear before you like this when you least expect it, and kill you before you can say my name. Get out!"

She replaced the fan before her face and watched stonily as Song Weiming staggered back, breathing shallowly. He gestured to his attendants with a trembling hand. "Go. Go! Get the carriage!"

Wanwan was having the time of her life as she watched Song Gongzi break into what was almost a run, and the chaos as his attendants scrambled to follow. Mao Jin and her stared blankly at each other.

In the sudden lull as the footsteps and shouting voices died away, as Song Weiming plunged into his carriage and the servants hurried to set off, Mao Jin looked incredulously at Madame Bai. It seemed that Madame would have an interesting story to tell, if she ever decided to.

Suzhen drew a long, unsteady breath and let the hand holding the fan drop to her side. Wanwan was surprised to see her hand was trembling ever so slightly. She hurried forward. "Madame. Are you feeling unwell? Do you want to sit down?"

Waving her aside wearily, Suzhen handed her the fan and bowed to Mao Jin. "Forgive me, Mao Gongzi, for landing you into trouble. I hope this will not cause animosity for you with Song Gongzi."

Unexpectedly, a wry grin broke across Mao Jin's face. He stretched out his arms and let them drop with a sigh, like a man who has escaped from a close shave.

"There is surely a poem suitable to recite for this situation, but my mind has enough to deal with as it is. Wanwan, clear away the tea set and bring me some wine in the courtyard."

He strode off, leaving Wanwan holding the fan in some bewilderment.