Chapter 4 Ghostwriter
The night was deep and silent, and the moon quietly hid behind the dark clouds. The wind swept through the empty streets, adding a touch of desolation to the scene. At the corner, a streetlight stood silently, its faint glow illuminating the sign beneath it, which read “Yanluo Street” in neat, bold letters.
This area was mostly made up of apartment buildings, with the residents long asleep by this hour. Every household had drawn their curtains and turned off their lights, blending seamlessly with the night’s darkness.
Suddenly, a light flickered on in one of the windows. Inside, Xie Bian and Fan Wujiu had resumed their modern attire and appeared out of thin air in the living room. Fan Wujiu held the book Evolution of Chinese Clothing through the Dynasties, the same one King Yan had thrown at him before they left.
“Finally off work,” Fan Wujiu said, collapsing into the sofa and stretching lazily. “Nothing beats being at home.”
Yanluo Apartments were their residence in the human world, but as the name suggested, the building was not really theirs. The ownership belonged to King Yan. Not just this building, but the entire street was his domain.
One could say the King of Hell was a business genius. Not only did he earn money from ghosts, but he also made a fortune off gods, spirits, and various demons. Places like Yanluo Bar, Yanluo Restaurant, and Yanluo Hotel were all part of his empire, built to entertain all sorts of visitors. Whatever currency was received was exchanged at a set rate into underworld coins and funneled into the underworld’s account to fund the construction of hell. His subordinates, Granny Meng, the Judges, Ox-Head, and Horse-Face, were all dispatched to manage King Yan’s business in the human world.
Even the Black and White Impermanence weren’t spared. They had been sent to this neighborhood to handle rent collection, while their usual soul-collecting duties had become their sideline.
When foreign ghosts and gods traveled to Qingzhou City for a visit, they stayed in hotels for a few days before leaving. Those who rented apartments, on the other hand, were all long-term residents, meaning the residents here were all local demons. Not all demons preferred the seclusion of the deep mountains, and not all of them could afford to buy houses. Mixing with humans had many inconveniences, so Yanluo Apartments, where non-humans gathered, was the ideal choice.
The entire apartment complex was fully occupied, except for a few units in this building. That was because the landlord, King Yan, lived here. Ordinary little demons did not dare to rent, leaving only the Black and White Impermanence as tenants.
King Yan wasn’t so stingy as to squeeze his subordinates dry. This apartment was part of their employee benefits, provided to them rent-free. One unit had two bedrooms and one living room, just enough for the two of them. The bedrooms were separated by just a thin wall, and with the living room included, it felt like a cozy little home.
After stretching, Fan Wujiu straightened up and said, “You go rest in your room. I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
Xie Bian paused mid-step, then turned toward him. “Why?”
Fan Wujiu lifted the book in his hand, gesturing toward it. “A thousand times.”
Xie Bian fell silent for a moment, then replied, “Oh. Good luck.”
At 2 AM, in the bedroom.
Fan Wujiu sat at his desk, raising his arm to rotate his sore wrist, then exhaled deeply. “This is only the eightieth. This is going to kill me.”
“If you die, there will be no impermanence to collect your soul,” a cold, distant voice replied.
The chilly voice made Fan Wujiu shudder. He turned quickly, only to find Xie Bian standing behind him. He hadn’t heard the door open, so Xie Bian must have passed through the wall.
The moment he saw Xie Bian, Fan Wujiu’s strength, which seemed to have been completely drained, seemed to instantly return.
Fan Wujiu smiled. “Well, isn’t Bai Wuchang still here to capture my soul?”
Xie Bian gave him a calm, indifferent look, but didn’t say a word.
Fan Wujiu scratched his nose, trying to make small talk. “Why are you still awake so late?”
“Immortals don’t need sleep,” Xie Bian replied, picking up the book Evolution of Chinese Clothing through the Dynasties from the desk. He quickly flipped through it from start to finish, scanning each page with lightning speed. “You’ve only copied eighty times so far. How long are you planning to keep at this?”
An immortal’s speed was far different from that of a mortal. This speed, even among immortals, could be described as infuriatingly slow.
Fan Wujiu sighed. “I already find the text boring. After looking at it for a long time, my head gets dizzy, and my eyes blur. I can hardly recognize the characters anymore.”
Xie Bian put the book back on the desk, pulled out a chair beside Fan Wujiu, and sat down. Without a word, he picked up some paper and a pen and began copying the text. He was imitating Fan Wujiu’s handwriting.
Fan Wujiu blinked in surprise. It was obvious to him that Xie Bian wasn’t using his usual fine, slender calligraphy but was instead trying to imitate his crude cursive. And surprisingly, he did it so well that Fan Wujiu couldn’t even tell the difference.
“So, you came over in the middle of the night to help me,” Fan Wujiu said, gratefully patting Xie Bian on the shoulder. “You really are a good brother.”
Caught off guard by the sudden pat, Xie Bian’s hand slipped, causing his stroke to falter. He frowned. “Hand.”
“Oh, sorry, sorry.” Fan Wujiu quickly withdrew his hand.
Of course, Fan Wujiu wouldn’t let Xie Bian do all the copying. It was easier for two people to share the burden, so he settled back into his seat. He knew his memory wasn’t as sharp as Xie Bian’s photographic recall, so he opened the book and began copying diligently, as he had been.
“Thanks, brother,” Fan Wujiu said, continuing to write.
“Lao Hei,” Xie Bian lowered his gaze and suddenly spoke, “I’m sorry.”
Fan Wujiu froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Wait, what are you apologizing for?”
Xie Bian answered, “If I hadn’t mentioned that our uniform was ugly, you wouldn’t have suggested it to King Yan, and you wouldn’t have been punished.”
“What does that have to do with you?” Fan Wujiu replied cheerfully, not at all bothered. “I’m the one who wanted to switch to a suit, not you.”
Xie Bian: “It does have to do with me. I was the one who first made the suggestion, which was the cause, and you being punished was the effect. I owe you.”
Fan Wujiu: “It’s nothing. The cause was my slip of the tongue, and the effect was my punishment. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Xie Bian: “It does.”
Fan Wujiu: “It doesn’t.”
Xie Bian: “……”
Fan Wujiu, sensing something was off in Xie Bian’s usual behavior, hesitated before asking, “Lao Bai, you’re not asleep this late…… you wouldn’t have been thinking about this the whole time, feeling guilty about it, would you?”
The more he thought about it, the more he believed it was possible. On the surface, Xie Bian seemed cold and indifferent, but his thoughts were far more delicate and sensitive than anyone could imagine. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had been lying in bed, tormented by whether he had caused trouble for Fan Wujiu, which was why he came over in the middle of the night to help with the copying.
“What kind of brother would fuss over this?” Fan Wujiu quickly reassured him. “Besides, you’re helping me copy too. We’re in this together. No matter the cause or effect, we share the burden. There’s no need to assign blame.”
Xie Bian didn’t respond. The only sound came from the scratch of his pen against the paper.
Fan Wujiu sat quietly without looking sideways, also concentrating on copying the book.
Concentrating was a lie. With their shoulders pressed together, elbows brushing, the distance was so close that it was impossible not to be distracted.
Although they both appeared fully absorbed in their tasks, the reality was quite different. Fan Wujiu made a series of embarrassing mistakes, with misspelled words covering the page, his corrections a mess of scribbles. Xie Bian, midway through copying, suddenly forgot a phrase and had to pause, collecting his thoughts before continuing.
About halfway through, Fan Wujiu spoke up, “Lao Bai, take a look at this.”
Xie Bian turned his head. “What is it?”
“Look at this picture in the book,” Fan Wujiu said. “The clothing from the Wei and Jin dynasties have wide sleeves, just like ours, but they look more lively and elegant. Much better than our current uniform. If you like it, we could change the design to something like this.”
Xie Bian was silent for a moment. “You still have the energy to think about this?”
“You said you wanted to change the style,” Fan Wujiu replied. “Of course, I’m paying attention.”
Xie Bian paused, then turned his head away. “Mm. Let’s go with this one.”
With both of them copying, the efficiency was remarkable. Regardless of the quality, the speed had increased drastically. By 4 AM, they had already copied the text a full eight hundred times.
Xie Bian finally began to feel a bit weary. He paused for a moment to rub his wrist.
Fan Wujiu looked at him with sympathy. “Alright, alright, let me handle the rest.”
But Xie Bian didn’t listen. He picked up his pen and continued writing. “Didn’t we agree to share the burden of cause and effect?”
Fan Wujiu blurted out without thinking, “You enjoy the good fruits, and I’ll bear the bitter ones.”
Xie Bian glanced at him, surprised.
Fan Wujiu immediately realized how that sounded. Feeling a little embarrassed, he stammered as he tried to explain, “Brothers share the good fortune and face the hardships together. I’m just more loyal, like to leave the good stuff for my brothers, and take on the harder parts myself.”
Xie Bian nodded. “Then you are truly righteous and noble.” He then lowered his head and continued copying.
Fan Wujiu: “……”
It seemed that he hadn’t managed to convince Lao Bai.
So, the two immortals continued copying in silence. The room was completely still, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of rain tapping against the window.
They listened to the rain through the night.
By the time the first light of dawn filtered through the room, they both put down their pens at the same moment. One thousand copies, neither more nor less, completed just as the sun began to rise.
Xie Bian gazed out at the pale light in the eastern sky and said, “It’s dawn.”
The rain had stopped at some point, and with the arrival of dawn, golden rays pierced through the thin clouds, wrapping around the rising sun.
The world is impermanent, with souls departing each night toward death. Yet, some things remain constant, like the morning sun rising each day, bringing new life.
Fan Wujiu collapsed into his chair, closing his eyes to rest, too weary to admire the beautiful sky. “Finally, we can report back to His Majesty.”
“You should be more careful from now on,” Xie Bian reminded him. “His Majesty doesn’t like anything too Western. It’s best if you avoid mentioning it.”
Fan Wujiu froze, his eyes snapping open as he sat up. “We’re done for.”
Xie Bian looked at him, confused. “What’s wrong?”
Fan Wujiu stared at the stack of paper on the desk and groaned in despair. “We used a fountain pen. Fountain pens were invented by foreigners! We should’ve used a brush to copy!”
“……”
Xie Bian: “There’s no need to overcorrect. His Majesty is traditional, not archaic.”
Without wasting any more time, Fan Wujiu and Xie Bian headed back to Yanluo Hall, ready to present the completed copies to King Yan.
Yanluo remained seated at his desk, writing with a calm and composed expression, his demeanor exuding a refined elegance.
King Yan possessed two divine artifacts: the Book of Life and Death, and the Reincarnation Brush. Impermanence needed to consult the Book of Life and Death when guiding souls, while the Judge used the Reincarnation Brush to distinguish between good and evil. The Reincarnation Brush, bestowed upon the underworld’s judges, was also known as the Judge’s Brush.
However, the underworld’s judicial system had now become fully automated. The judges had been sent to manage business affairs, so the Judge’s Brush had returned to the hands of King Yan. As for the Book of Life and Death, the Black and White Impermanence and the impermanence ghosts only used copies for reference, while the true book remained in King Yan’s possession, where it worked in tandem with the Judge’s Brush to perform its unique functions.
When the Impermanence looked at the Book of Life and Death, it was to claim souls.
When the Judge used the Judge’s Brush, it was to judge souls.
But when King Yan used the Judge’s Brush to write in the Book of Life and Death, he was shaping the causes and effects. Each stroke of his pen became reality. He could influence the destinies of all living beings.
It was the power to control cause and effect that made King Yan unmatched among the gods of the human world.
“Finished copying?” This time, King Yan already knew why they had come.
“Yes, please take a look.” Fan Wujiu handed over the stack of papers, feeling a bit anxious, hoping no irregularities would be spotted.
The papers floated in midair, quickly flipping on their own.
King Yan skimmed through them at incredible speed before looking up with interest at Xie Bian. “You copied these for him?”
Xie Bian’s brow twitched.
……His handwriting should have been flawless.
“Your handwriting is indeed exactly the same as his, but 428 pieces have no mistakes, while the remaining 572 are riddled with errors. It doesn’t look like it was all done by one person,” King Yan kindly explained.
Xie Bian: “……” He never expected this.
Fan Wujiu: “……” So embarrassing.
Fan Wujiu steeled himself and quickly took all the blame. “Punish me! It was my idea to slack off and begged Lao Bai to ghostwrite for me.”
Xie Bian frowned, wanting to deny it. “Your Majesty—”
King Yan interrupted him, “Since you two brothers have such deep affection, I can’t bear to punish you severely. But if you take care of one more task, this matter will be forgotten.”
Xie Bian asked cautiously, “Is it a difficult task?”
“Not particularly.”
King Yan said with complete seriousness, “Teaching you about Eastern culture is meant to build cultural confidence, but showing foreign gods our culture is what truly counts as cultural exchange. All you need to do is have a Western god read this book, Evolution of Chinese Clothing through the Dynasties, and submit a 10,000-word review. Then, your task will be considered complete.”
“……”
“Do you have any questions?”
“Yes,” Fan Wujiu asked seriously, “Can we choose a harsher punishment? I am willing to be punished.” I would rather take the punishment.
The King of Hell smiled. “No.”
……
After leaving the underworld, Xie Bian and Fan Wujiu exchanged a glance. Without a word, they headed in the same direction.
Yanluo Bar.
The Western god Venus was currently staying there.
If you enjoy this novel, support the Translator ginevre on her ko-fi account :))
