19: Wishing to Marry a Ghostly Bride
At that moment, a man carrying a sword on his back arrived. He spared not a glance at the silver-furred beast, but respectfully greeted the old lady, “This humble Daoist greets the venerable laywoman.”
The silver-furred beast was already uneasy, its fur bristling as it retreated several steps, hesitating to flee.
The onlookers were puzzled and alarmed. The old lady asked, “Are you the Daoist who came to our village today seeking shelter?”
“Indeed, that is I.”
At these words, the old lady was overjoyed. “Daoist, you possess great abilities. Please subdue this fiend, rid us of this evil beast.”
The silver-furred beast understood human speech. Baring its teeth and glaring, it was wary of the Daoist. Realizing the situation was dire, it hesitated a moment, then prepared to escape.
“Wicked beast, you disturb the villagers and wish to leave without accounting for yourself?”
The Daoist rebuked it sternly. With a wave of his hand, a bolt of lightning crashed down from thin air, blasting a deep crater into the earth, scattering scorched soil everywhere.
The silver-furred beast shuddered, collapsing limply to the ground, pressing its head to the earth, not daring to move.
Seeing the Daoist’s powers, the old lady knelt down, weeping bitterly, “Please, Daoist, save my entire family.”
“Do not worry, venerable lady. With me here, this creature will not dare harm anyone.”
He hurriedly helped her up. “Madam, I have observed the events for some time, saw what transpired, but do not know the full story. Would you enlighten me?”
This Daoist was, of course, Yi Fan. He had hidden nearby when the beast appeared, observing since the creature had shown no intention to harm, and thus had not revealed himself.
The old lady stood, hesitated, and said, “This wicked beast comes every night, seeking to kill my daughter-in-law. Had you not arrived, it might have succeeded. Please, Daoist, rid us of it.”
Seeing she was unwilling to elaborate, Yi Fan did not press her. Instead, he asked, “Has this creature ever harmed anyone?”
“It has not.”
“And before, had it ever committed evil deeds?”
“Never.”
Yi Fan smiled. “If it has never harmed anyone, nor committed any evil, why must I kill it for you?”
The old lady grew anxious, clutching his sleeve. “But it wants to kill my daughter-in-law!”
“Your daughter-in-law?”
Yi Fan snorted coldly, glancing at the terrified, cowering seamstress hiding within. “The living and the dead walk different paths. Do you not know this, madam?”
He had already seen through her—this seamstress was a spirit, though lacking malice, she was suffused with yin energy, but was only a minor ghost.
The old woman’s face changed dramatically as she blocked his way. “Daoist, you must be mistaken—my daughter-in-law cannot be a ghost!”
“Still you wish to conceal the truth? Then let’s pretend I was never here. Farewell.”
Yi Fan’s patience waned and he flung his sleeve, preparing to leave.
But the seamstress rushed forward, kneeling before him. “Daoist, I beg you, though I am a spirit, I have never harmed anyone. I only wish to serve my mother-in-law and to love Ren.”
The old lady hurriedly held her close, tears streaming down her face. “The seamstress is filial and capable, more virtuous than many living people, and truly loves my son. Can you bear to let the beast harm her?”
In that moment, the old and the young clung together, weeping bitterly.
Yi Fan sighed, not knowing every detail but guessing enough. “Please rise, madam. Though I do not approve of unions between the living and the dead, I will not stand by and let harm come to you.”
He then turned to the trembling beast. “You foolish creature, do you not see they love one another? Why try to break them apart?”
The silver-furred beast whined in grievance, lifting its head to cry out.
Yi Fan waved his hand. “Enough, I know you meant well. But if they wish you not to meddle, you should not trouble them further.”
The beast hesitated, glanced at the seamstress, and nodded.
“Thank you, Daoist, for saving our lives. I shall enshrine your image at home and pray for your blessings daily.”
The old lady was overjoyed and said to her stunned son, “Ren, thank the Daoist!”
Ren dropped his hoe and hurriedly knelt in thanks.
Dawn was breaking. The seamstress bowed, then walked away, and after a few steps vanished into thin air.
“It’s cold outside, Daoist. Please come in and rest.”
Yi Fan did not refuse and entered. The silver-furred beast followed, but dared not enter the house, crouching instead at the door.
The old lady was uneasy at the sight of the beast. Yi Fan reassured her, “Do not fear, madam. This is a mountain ape, transformed by fortune. It understands human nature, distinguishes right from wrong, and preys on spirits rather than men. In fact, it protects the mountain hunters from demons.”
He paused, smiling. “Seeing your daughter-in-law, it mistook her for a threat and sought to drive her away, not knowing its good intentions caused you distress.”
“So that’s how it is. I have wronged it,” she said, relieved by Yi Fan’s explanation, and had Ren offer him hot tea.
Yi Fan hesitated, then voiced his doubts. The old lady sighed, abandoning her reticence, and told everything.
Two years ago, the Ren family was not as it appeared now. Their home was bare, mother and son barely surviving, forced to do menial labor for others to eat.
But fate is ever changeable. The old lady fell ill from exhaustion, and Ren, being a bookish youth unsuited for hard labor, could not provide for them.
One night, there was a knock at the door. When Ren opened it, no one was there, only a pheasant left behind, seemingly by a kind soul.
From that night forth, someone knocked at the door every night, always leaving wild game. As time passed, mother and son grew suspicious and hid one night to see for themselves.
In the depths of night, their benefactor appeared—a gentle young woman, carrying game in her arms. She knocked, intending to leave, but the pair stopped her, invited her in for tea, and asked why she was so generous.
She explained she was the daughter of a hunter from the mountains, and, moved by their plight, brought food to help them through hard times.
The two believed her, grateful for her kindness.
So it continued, and feelings blossomed between Ren and the young woman. Eventually, they consummated their love. The old lady, suspecting the truth, chose not to interfere.
Six months passed. The young woman came nightly, never in daylight, never mentioning her family. At last, curiosity overcame them, and they questioned her. Unable to deceive them further, she revealed her story.
She was the daughter of a family a hundred miles away. She had died of illness, and her family soon after moved away to resettle elsewhere.
Mother and son were terrified but could not bear to drive her out, remembering her kindness and growing to cherish her deeply. They accepted her as one of their own.
Since her confession, she had been all the more devoted, serving the old lady each night and growing ever closer to Ren.
With her help, they raised silkworms in spring, wove cloth in winter, and their fortunes changed utterly. They treasured her and cared not for her origins.