Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The Panda Mansion on Zhongxing Road in Chongqing is home to a famous Ghost Market. Opening at midnight and packing up at dawn, it operates once a week, selling small antiques, trinkets, and miscellaneous goods.

Legend has it that during the social upheaval of the late Ming and early Qing dynasties, some wealthy families were too ashamed to be seen selling their heirlooms, so they came out in the middle of the night to liquidate their estates. Others say it originated as a place for grave robbers to fence their stolen loot.

Sellers would light a small oil lamp, twisting the wick so thin that it emitted only a faint glimmer in the darkness. From a distance, these flickers looked like will-o’-the-wisps in the pitch-black night, which is why many people called such places the “Ghost Market.”

But that was just a rumor used as a cover for the real Ghost Market.

In the true Ghost Market, the items for sale are all ghostly artifacts. The stallholders might be human, or they might be ghosts, and the location of the market changes every month. Without an insider to lead the way, it’s impossible to find the entrance.

The Ghost Market opens once every ten days. When it opens, people are sent to scatter yellow joss paper along the entire road. Every two hours thereafter, they scatter more. The yellow paper Li Yuan had been covered in came from this very practice.

Zhu Neng enthusiastically explained the directions to the Ghost Market to me.

“First, take a taxi to the eighth floor of this building. Then, take the stairs up, and you’ll be on the first floor of Xiangwei Street. Turn right into an alley, and you’re there.”

He was speaking Mandarin, but the words didn’t seem to make sense when put together. Sure enough, Jiang Haoyan looked completely bewildered.

“You must have said that wrong,” Jiang Haoyan said. “How can a car drive directly to the eighth floor? And why is the floor above the eighth floor the first floor?”

Zhu Neng waved a hand dismissively.

“This is Chongqing, kid. Sigh, I can’t explain it to you clearly. Forget it, I’ll just take you there myself.”

The Ghost Market wouldn’t open until the Hour of the Rat, so Zhu Neng warmly took us out for dinner. Looking at the table full of bright red, spicy dishes, I reached out to stop Jiang Haoyan.

“Have you forgotten what happened in that ancient tomb in Sichuan? We need to protect our rectums.”

We had important business to attend to tonight; we couldn’t afford to waste time in the bathroom. Jiang Haoyan and I fought back our cravings and stuck to some bland vegetables.

Finally, after enduring until after ten o’clock, Zhu Neng took us by taxi to Shenglian Alley. After climbing a long flight of stairs and making several turns, a bridge tunnel suddenly appeared before us.

My sense of spatial orientation was completely shot.

Jiang Haoyan said in shock, “Is this bridge built in the sky?”

Zhu Neng gave a low cough.

“Sect Master Qiao, you both know the rules of the Ghost Market. I won’t be going in. If you need anything, call me tomorrow.”

Before I could say a word, he rubbed his arms and jogged away, disappearing around the corner of the alley.

I turned to look at the bridge tunnel. It was almost the Hour of the Rat, and a layer of hazy mist was rising at the entrance, completely shrouding the interior of the tunnel.

An occasional ghostly wind swept through, swirling the fallen leaves by the roadside. Passersby immediately lowered their heads and hurried along.

“This place is bone-chillingly creepy.”

I pulled a piece of yellow paper from my pocket, plucked a strand of hair from both myself and Jiang Haoyan, and rolled them into the paper. With a flick of my wrist, the paper ignited.

I let go, and the burning yellow paper spiraled slowly into the air.

“Let’s go in.”