Strange Tales of the Ghosts

The sun rises and the moon falls, the flowers bloom and wither; death and reincarnation are inevitable to all the living spirits of the world. After people pass away, they enter the Underworld; even those souls who aren't humans all change into human forms to walk through the Gate of Hell and the Road of Huangquan to the Underworld. Between the Road of Huangquan and the Underworld is the River of Wangchuan: the river of forgetfulness. The water of this river is blood red, filled with wandering souls who could not be reincarnated.

Crimson flowers bloomed next to the turbulent and ever-flowing river; they had no leaves and the petals were long and slim like needles. Where the flowers bloomed was called the Shore, and a tall bamboo building stood on the Shore for thousands of years. A mysterious man called Mr. Wangchuan; no one knew whether he was a supernatural being or an immortal. Those who met him before said that he was dressed in white, his hair was tied up by a single ribbon with breathtakingly distinct facial features. The souls and ghosts of the Underworld called him the Ghost Doctor because he treated illnesses for them. He could cure all sorts of complicated and strange illnesses no matter what, but he had a rule --- all comers must swim across the River of Forgetfulness to the Shore, yet the river was filled with extreme poisons which could corrode all souls. Even if they tried to cross the river without any illnesses, they would lose half of their life, and that was why very few souls had met him.

There were no days or nights in the Underworld. There were no so-called dark nights or daytime, time flowed like torrents in the river. Snow Fox sat on the grass while resting her cheeks in her hands and sighed as she watched the souls who lined up to cross the Naihe Bridge, "Ahh."

"Why are you sighing, Sister Snow Fox?" Parrot appeared behind Snow Fox. She wore a red dress that dragged to the floor with a few crimson flowers in her hands.

Snow Fox glanced at the flowers in Parrot's hands and asked carelessly, "Is Mr. Wangchuan curing souls again?"

"You are half right. The patient is a giant python this time." Parrot pouted. Her face was small and delicate, looking at most fifteen or sixteen of age, but she had lived on the Shore for over five hundred years.

Snow Fox heard her and urged, "Then why are you still here? Don't let him wait for you."

"What's the rush? Mr. Wangchuan is still listening to its story, they won't be done for a while." Parrot sat down next to Snow Fox and rested her head on the fox's shoulder. After pondering for a while, she asked, "Sister, I've been thinking all these times, why does he love listening to stories so much?"

"You won't know the answer unless you ask him." Snow Fox was older than Parrot, and her body matured more than Parrot, too. Every single breath and smile was seductively alluring.

Parrot pouted in dissatisfaction. She had stayed with Mr. Wangchuan for a few hundred years now, yet he never mentioned why, nor did she ask. What was strange to her was that other than swimming across the river, the souls had to exchange a personal belonging and a story; otherwise, Mr. Wangchuan wouldn't take a look at them.

"Sister, did you tell your story to Mr. Wangchuan, too?"

"I did," Snow Fox nodded and stood up with a smile. Parrot saw that she was leaving and quickly chased after her as she yelled, "Sister Snow Fox, can you tell me the story, too?"

"I will tell you if you can catch up to me," Snow Fox turned around and smiled at her. Her skin was as pale as winter snow, and her lips blushed red. The wind gently blew through her hair, and her beauty was enough to make all men in the world fall for her.

Parrot saw that Snow Fox flew, she refused to lose and shouted, "Sister, Snow Fox, you won't get away today!" As she spoke, she turned into a parrot and flew towards Snow Fox, dropping the crimson flowers on the lawn.

Their playful sounds traveled across the river, Meng Po couldn't help but look back and smile with a nod. She continued to pour the soup of forgetfulness into bowls, one bowl per soul, at a moderately comfortable speed. For those who drank, the soul would forget everything that happened in the past. Meng Po could count how many souls didn't drink the soup with two hands after all these years. If those souls weren't still wandering in the human world, they must have fallen into the river. Snow Fox and Parrot were the lucky souls out of the few; Mr. Wangchuan saved them and kept them on the Shore forever.