6. Block Catching, Bitch!

6 September 1994

[Yongqi's POV]

For the past four days, I had watched quietly and curiously the world that surrounded Elizabeth.

Carriages sped by without horses. Moving pictures danced inside glowing boxes. People spoke to one another across vast distances using grey devices held to their ears. Even the toilet knew to cleanse itself, triggered by a simple tug on a small lever. Lamps lit entire rooms without oil, fire, or candle — all from the flick of a peg the size of a finger.

In this strange land, humans lived without an Emperor. No court. No rites. No laws. And yet, somehow, the world did not descend into chaos or crime. Women wandered freely, followed little in the way of societal rules, and even held jobs. This world ran not on servants or routine, but on invisible forces I could not yet name.

The men and women wore alarmingly little. Legs and arms were left bare. Some even exposed their shoulders and midriffs.

In public!

Even the thought of it flushed my face with heat. Stranger still, unmarried couples held hands freely on the streets.

Oh, Heaven and Earth!

What indecency!

Wedded couples of the Great Qing would never dare. I could not decide whether this world was utterly barbaric or brilliant. 

I watched with growing disgust as those arrogant leeches moved into Elizabeth's household, behaving as though her parents owed them a living.

Last night, I stumbled upon a clandestine conversation behind closed doors. The old matriarch—Elizabeth's grandmother—was speaking in low tones to Ric and Lily about filing for bankruptcy and hiding from their creditors. From what I gathered, Ric and Lily had racked up considerable debt.

I knew it.

This wasn't merely a temporary hardship, as they had claimed. Moving in with her family was a hideout. A calculated escape from their creditors.

And now they fed off Elizabeth's father's wages and her mother's modest savings, contributing nothing in return. Not a single copper coin. Worse still, it was Elizabeth and her mother who scrubbed and swept the home like servants while the freeloaders lounged around without a trace of shame.

It did not sit right with me. Elizabeth, her brother, and her mother were left to eat the scraps—actual scraps—from the others' plates. Some days, they were given broken pieces of fish and vegetables soaked in leftover gravy. On worse days, it was just rice… with gravy alone.

Today was Elizabeth's birthday. I watched in silence as her mother prepared a pot of curry chicken, determined to contribute to what seemed like a casual gathering among neighbours, using Elizabeth's birthday as an excuse to bring the children together. Yet my heart twisted. I knew what the girl did not: a wave of creditors would soon come knocking. I wanted to let her enjoy her day. And still, I found myself torn between honouring her innocence and preparing her for the truth.

"These people," I thought grimly, watching Lloyd laze on the couch, chatting away on the telephone, "are a ticking time bomb, biting the very hand that feeds them."

"Lloyd, may I have the phone now? I need to make a call urgently," Elizabeth's mother asked, keeping her tone polite.

Lloyd turned his back to her and continued talking, unfazed.

"Lloyd, it's already been three hours since you've been on that call," she tried again.

No response.

Tsk.

A dog bites Lü Dongbin, failing to recognise a good man's heart.

I heaved a sigh, watching the rude, spoiled brat. In the Qing dynasty, this would have warranted punishment from the family elders. Such behaviour would not be tolerated under Confucian values.

Given the unpredictability of my time here in this strange place, I might not be around to look out for Elizabeth. Yet, how can a child like her protect the family from what's to come for them?

"Elizabeth, we are going to the playground today. Our neighbours have prepared some food to share with everyone. Since it is your birthday, you will get an extra hour of playtime," her mother said with a slight smile, abandoning any further attempts to get the phone from Lloyd.

Elizabeth's eyes lit up. She looked in my direction and gave me a playful wink.

The playground felt like a children's playdate party. The mothers would lay out a mat to display all the food for everyone to help themselves with. The fathers would be absent from the scene. There were four other children and a pair of identical twins.

"Let's play block catching," T.J., the elder twin and natural leader of the group, said.

"Elizabeth, since it is your birthday, you get to pick the block," J.J., the younger twin, added.

The rules of the game were simple. An apartment block would be chosen by common agreement. All children would run and hide along the stairs and common corridors of the chosen apartment block. A catcher is chosen by rock, scissors and paper. Anyone caught outside the boundaries was disqualified and became the next catcher.

"On the count of ten," T.J., the chosen catcher, said. As he counted up to ten, all the children ran at top speed into their hiding spots.

"Impressive! She is fast," I huffed as I followed closely behind Elizabeth.

"Yongqi..." Mother Consort's voice flashed in my head — trembling, broken, as if she had been crying for days.

With each breathless puff of air, I knew deep inside me that I had survived the horse accident. It won't be long till I wake up and return to consciousness — to the Great Qing.

"Oh my God, Yongqi!" Elizabeth burst out after ensuring that no one else had followed her. "The horse accident!"

I cringed at her calling me directly by my name. I doubted I would ever grow used to it.

"Hush... hush... I'm very much alive," I said calmly. "Let me show you."

I spread my arms wide and twirled in a circle.

"But... aren't you a ghost? Doesn't that mean you've… died? What I saw—was that your death scene?" she stammered, panic rising.

"You were there when I fell off the horse?" I asked. She nodded.

"Then tell me—when you come to my land, aren't you a ghost too? Does that mean you've died as well?" My mind was spinning, searching for explanations.

She shook her head.

"Have you ever heard of a quote by Zhuangzi?"

"Who's that?"

"A famous philosopher."

Recalling my lessons with Grand Tutor Eertai, I cleared my throat.

"Once upon a time, I, Zhuang Zhou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes of a butterfly.

I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Zhou.

Soon I awoke, and there I was, veritably myself again.

Now I do not know if I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man."

She grew quiet, brow furrowed in thought.

"Hmm…and I don't know if I was dreaming of you, or you were dreaming of me."

"Exactly."

"Do you think Zhuangzi experienced what we're going through?"

"I don't know. Maybe," I shrugged. "But it's wiser to cherish our time together while it lasts. These meetings come without warning."

"Yes, indeed," she whispered.

"Elizabeth! It's time to eat the food!" a voice called out.

"Pause game?" she shouted, already dashing up a few flights of stairs.

Other children echoed back, "Pause game!" from different corners, and she relaxed into a slow stroll.

"I'm sorry I had to ignore you in front of the others," she said, turning to me with an apologetic look.

"Stick around?"

I think she meant for me to accompany her.

"Yes," I smiled.

* * *

[Elizabeth's POV]

I really love the way Yongqi recited Zhuangzi's quote. Our eyes met — two souls out of time, bound by something neither of us could name.

If I'm dreaming you… I hope I never wake.

No birthday could be more satisfying than finding a real friend. Ghost or real, illusion or dream, it no longer mattered to me. Yongqi was already more real than 'real' people around me.

Lunch was a scrumptious spread: curry chicken, plain old spaghetti arrabiata, and grape jam sandwiches. A feast, by our standards. The children tore into it, their faces bright. The mothers laid out mats and gossiped.

"Yeah, and my husband's unkind to me," Mum ranted, her voice sharp with heat. "I've paid for everything with my savings. Not a single cent, I'd say, was given to me."

I kept quiet and pretended not to hear anything. I helped Damien with his grape jam sandwich.

"And those people that moved in with us brought along the old one, too. If you didn't know the truth, you would think that we are freeloading off the old woman instead!" she added, hoping to gather more looks of sympathy.

The ladies oohed and aahed like an audience in a variety show.

"If you don't believe me, ask Elizabeth!"

My ears pricked up at the last sentence.

Please don't call on me. Please…please…

"Elizabeth, come here," Mum barked like an army sergeant. "Tell the aunties if what I said was the truth."

I felt sick to my stomach. There was no escape — no winning—in this 'variety show'. I had to agree with whatever Mum said, truth or lie. The end game was always the same: to cement her image as the eternal victim. The world, it seemed, could only wrong her, and she, in turn, could do no wrong to the world. If I didn't play along, I'd pay for it later at home.

I took a deep breath.

Oh God help me.

I rolled my eyes internally, cringing at what I was about to say. 

Grandmother appeared from behind, walking toward us along the only pathway that led to our apartment block. She carried two bags of groceries. Well, no prizes for guessing — they were obviously meant for Ric and Lily's family. Ten out of ten times. I could already imagine Lloyd and Virginia dangling those bags in front of Damien and me, making us chase after them like donkeys behind a carrot stick.

The sound of slippers smacking the pavement made Mum and the ladies whip their heads around. I let out my breath that I held a second too long. The spotlight was no longer on me. With a smile plastered on, Mum said sweetly, "Look! It's your grandmother, Elizabeth. Greet grandmother."

"Good day, grandmother," I called out politely.

"Crazy bitch," Grandmother said flatly, poker-faced. Her slippers continued slapping the concrete as she walked on toward the apartment block.

I froze, wide-eyed in shock.

Wait—who was the crazy bitch?

Me or Mum?

It felt like a slap in the face.

Mum twitched, then turned me around and leaned in. "Your grandmother just called you a crazy bitch," she said, matter-of-fact.

"Beeeech! Beeeech!" Damien giggled, loud and delighted.

It was me.

I was the crazy bitch.

Not mum who was standing behind me.

Double, triple slap in the face.

I felt my soul leave my body... and come back again.

Everything went silent, and I couldn't hear a thing.

Then, slowly, the noise began to trickle back in.

The ladies turned away, awkward. Someone called for the end of the party.

Yup.

A very 'happy' birthday to Elizabeth — if you catch the sarcasm.