Second Chance

Chapter 7 - A Shocking Revelation

Jake looked cautiously around the small hall. Apart from a wooden square table, a few stools, and the couch that Chin-ling was sitting on, the place was bare.

“Call me Jake,” the ex-gunman said, focusing his sight back on her. “And you wouldn’t have to if you’d returned to the creek the next day. I was there.”

“I know,” she said. “I was watching you from afar. And on the fourth day, I came, but in disguise.”

“The fourth day?” Jake recalled. “Oh, you mean you were the old lady at the stream?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t you just appear as you are?”

Chin-ling got up without answering. She walked to the table. A pot and some cups were on top. The silver flute was also there. She sat on the stool and poured herself a cup – it looked like wine. Jake was hoping she would offer him a drink as he was parched and shivering. At the same breath, he was intensely curious about how she could withstand the biting cold despite wearing an almost-transparent thin outfit.

“Aren’t you feeling even a little chilly?” he asked.

“My, my, you do have a lot of questions to ask, don’t you? Before I go into that, would you like to sit down or do you prefer standing up?”

Jake rested his derriére on the stool, placing his knapsack next to him on the floor.

“Some wine, perhaps?” she asked, pouring him a cup.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied with glee.

When he down his third cup in quick succession, she asked in amusement: “You are quite a guzzler. I’ve never seen a man drink like that.”

“Oh, there’s a limit as to how much I can drink.”

“And how many cups would that be?”

“It’s pots, not cups,” he replied cheekily.

Chin-ling took another sip of her wine. Unlike the uncouth Jake, she drank it slowly, quietly, in tender little sips. “I was born with two curses,” she said, initially looking away then back. Her smile faded. “First, although I am immune to the cold, I can’t survive in warm weather; my skin will crack and the excruciating pain will kill me. That is why I live here – it’s always cold, even in summer. And second, I can communicate with the … undead.”

Jake stared at her.

“My abnormality had the superstitious townsfolk accusing me of being a witch,” she continued, ignoring him. “I had to make my escape, hiding in many places before ending up at Devil Falls, so named because legend has it that an unearthly creature dwells at the waterfall, slaying those who are brazen enough to enter his domain. It was the perfect lair for me.”

Then, without warning, a piercing wail in the woods shattered the cottage’s placid atmosphere.

Jack nearly spurted his wine out. “Holy cow! What is that horrible noise?” he stammered.

“Oh, that,” she said, shrugging. “It’s just my friends calling me.” She then excused herself and left the house, the flute in her hand.

Jake raised an eyebrow – Friends? What did she mean by that? He peeked out of the window and saw shreds of mists in human shape gathering all about the field. There were at least a dozen of them, all in smoky white and only their top half were visible. A few were headless, while others had open black mouths and gaunt soulless eyes. The ghastly sight gave him goose bumps – were they ghosts?

His fear, however, was abated by the soothing flute music from Chin-ling. He guessed those phantom beings must have felt the same way as he did because they stopped wailing. Then, like magic, they disappeared one by one. Soon the woods were quiet and dark once more.

“The apparitions you saw are the tormented spirits of the dead men and women from the mass grave,” Chin-ling made it known to Jake when she returned to the house. “You might have come across it on your way here.”

Jake acknowledged with a nod.

“They – I call them the undead - choose not to cross over to the light as they have unfinished business to take care of. They want vengeance for their deaths. I play the flute to placate their troubled souls.”

“Who killed them?”

“General Tang!” she answered in a hard tone, her brows drawn together in a scowl. “The men were his political opponents and the women were r***d by him. And he put the blame solely on me, telling the ignorant townsfolk that I am a bloodthirsty witch.”

She went back to her seat and poured another cup. Jake followed suit; he thought it was good wine: crisp in taste with a fruity aroma. He had never drunk anything like this.

“You are eager to learn of my knowledge about you and your wife, am I correct?” she asked, leaning forward and peering at him. “Otherwise you would not be here.”

She saw in Jake’s expression that her words had hit their mark.

“Yes, let’s get down to it, Chin-ling,” he replied. “That is your name, isn’t it? The old monk at the monastery told me so.”

“What else did he tell you?” she asked, leaning back and taking another sip. Her anger seemed to have subsided. “Did he mention that he was tasked by the town elders to capture me and burn me at the stake? Perhaps now you understand why I concealed my identity at the creek. He was watching us.”

“I see, I see,” Jake said, his impatience exposed by his tone. He was paying the cat-and-mouse game between the monk and Chin-ling the least mind. “Shall we return to the matter at hand?”

“Ah, yes, about your Mei-suet,” Chin-ling shrugged. She was silent for a moment. When she eventually spoke, her eyes flashed. “Brace yourself – her soul now roams in the land of the undead. Just like the others, she chooses not to cross over yet because she was murdered. She wants to bring her killer to justice. She also longs to reconnect with you. To help her do that, she sought me out.”

“Mei-suet was murdered?” Jake gasped, his eyes as round as two big coals. “This is absurd! Who would want her dead? She was a sweet, fun-loving person; everyone liked her. No, the doctors told me she had an incurable heart ailment. I was with her when she first fell sick.” Instantly his mind raced back to that fateful morning of 26 February 1923. Mei-suet and he were strolling hand in hand along the vast garden of their mansion, taking great pleasure in viewing the picturesque sight. A snowfall from the previous night had covered the whole place in white; it now looked like a winter wonderland. In the beginning, she was her usual chatty self. Then as they were heading to the open field, she grew quiet. Also, she seemed to be dragging her feet.

“Hey, Jake, how strong are you?” he recalled her asking.

“Strong enough to carry a buffalo,” he’d replied, flexing his biceps.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“Why? Are you tired?”

“I think you’d better take me back to the house,” she’d said, “I suddenly don’t feel well.” The next thing he knew, she had collapsed in his arms.

When the Chinese physician couldn’t revive her with his medicine, she was rushed to the hospital where she finally regained consciousness. But she had suffered a stroke and was paralyzed from the neck down. Even her speech was impaired. The doctors were initially baffled by her illness but they eventually agreed she had heart disease – weakening of the heart’s ability to pump blood. In her case, her health was declining rapidly. Eight days after her admission, she passed away.

“That’s what the killer wanted the doctors to believe,” Chin-ling said, interrupting Jake’s train of thought. “In reality, Mei-suet was felled by a Dim-Mak strike.”

“Dim-Mak … but that type of martial arts is just a myth,” Jake said, his brows drawn down in a scowl.

“I am afraid it is very much to the contrary, Jake. So now that you know the truth, avenge your wife. I hear there are only a handful of Dim-Mak practitioners in Beijing, so finding the culprit shouldn’t be a problem.”

Jake stared at his empty cup and said nothing. And Chin-ling shuddered when she saw a shadow across his face. Perhaps his ire, roused by what he had just learned, would be alleviated by her homemade wine. He seemed to have a great liking for it. And he was not boasting about his drinking limit – he had drank eight cups yet he was still sober; she would have been knocked out by the third.

She filled up his cup and he gulped it down. She was about to pour him another when he pushed the pot away and asked, “Why are you doing this? Why do you care what happens to the undead … and to Mei-suet?”

“Because like I said before, they are my friends,” Chin-ling replied with conviction. “When they are in trouble and you know you have the means to help them, as in Mei-suet’s case, you do it.”

Jake smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. After which he murmured, “Can you contact Mei-suet? I dearly wish to see her, talk to her again.”

“That’s not how it works, Jake,” Chin-ling clarified. “I don’t have access to the otherworld. Only the undead themselves can contact me. And right now, I don’t feel your wife’s presence. I am sorry.”

Disappointed by Chin-ling’s reply, Jake leaned forward and searched for the pot to pour himself a drink. While doing so, his mind was trying to figure out a configuration he couldn’t comprehend. His blurred vision settled upon three pots although he was very certain that there was only one, and that it was in the middle. Nevertheless, he extended his hand and in doing so, he knocked over Chin-ling’s cup. It was only her swift reflexes that prevented the wine from wetting her gown.

Jake got up and apologised profusely, slurring his words. “I must say your wine is one heck of a potent drink, Chin-ling. May I lie down on your couch for a while? I’m feeling a little giddy.” He managed to walk a couple of steps before his legs gave way. The next moment he found himself on his behind on the floor.

Chin-ling quickly helped him to his feet. At last, he meets his match in my wine, she said silently to herself with smug satisfaction.

As she led him to her room, he blurted out a few more words, his unfocused gaze on her: “Imagine, a hard drinker like me drunk as a skunk after only a few cups.” He chuckled. “Oh, Mei-suet, this is highly embarrassing.”

Jake at last lay in the bed, moaning and repeating Mei-suet’s name. Chin-ling stood beside him, listening.

“Please hold me …” she heard him mutter. “I miss your touch, your kiss …”

He looked and spoke to me as if I were Mei-suet, Chin-ling thought, as she watched him toss and turn before finally falling asleep. She should have left the room but she didn’t. Perhaps it was the wine affecting her senses, for she began to find him sexually attractive. And true to Mei-suet’s words, he had captivating emerald eyes. The white-haired woman could hear her heart pounding in excitement. In truth she too missed the warm embrace of a man. She used to have a boyfriend – a scholar from the southernmost province of Hainan. Upon realizing what she was, he forsook her and married another girl in his village.

An overwhelming impulse to fulfil Jake’s desire seized her. She tried hard to resist, reasoning with herself that it was indecorous behaviour. In the end, she removed her garment – lust won.