Gong-thau did exactly as instructed. He stuffed the corpse into a large tote sack, and when the night was at its darkest, he hauled the load out to the unused well and dumped it in. After hearing the thump the thing made hitting bottom, he shoveled the hole full of dirt and gravel, then covered it with rocks and stones.
Delighted with his speed and efficiency, A-mi rewarded Gong-thau with a full tael of silver, for now she could rest easy, her status secure.
A-mi: A token of thanks for a job well done.
Remember: speak of this to no one!
Gong-thau: You needn’t worry, Ma’am:
My lips are sealed tight – None will ever know
Of what we’ve done tonight.
And with that, Gong-thau sauntered off to celebrate his crime with a bottle of fiery gaoliang liquor.
Part Three
The 15th day of the Eight Lunar Month, one of the year’s high holidays, when the full autumn moon shines its brightest. Tsiu Sing and Kueh A-mi were feasting in the moonlit
courtyard, enjoying fine foods and wines, platters of meats and confections laid out on a table before them. Warmed by the alcohol, basking in A-mi’s sensual aura, Sing
envisioned only a long, happy future before them, his wife Guat-li all but forgotten.
The household help had been given the evening off, and Ong Kin was away in Taipei’s Monga district, celebrating the holiday with friends. Only Gong-thau stayed behind with his master and mistress. The servant had been drinking heavily since the night of the murder and was now recounting the incident, proud of the service he’d rendered.
As the three toasting,
Gong-thau took to drunken boasting – Aflame with wine and revelry,
The rascal bragged of his devilry:
I sent the baggage straight to hell, Dropt ’er down a dried-up well!
Boss, I swear upon my soul, I tossed ’er in, then filled the hole.
The flunky laughed a great guffaw – It was then the crows began to caw.
An inauspicious omen, A portent of great moment, Foreshadowing a reckoning – The hand of fate was beckoning!
A high wall enclosed the compound, but sound carried farther at night. Tsiu Sing and A-mi warned Gong-thau not to speak of the matter, but he went on, louder than before:
“Screw the crows!
Don’t care who knows – I’ll kill ’em all! One by one…”
Not until A-mi had presented him with hastily prepared sop – a cash-stuffed red
envelope, a holiday bonus in honor of his faithful service, she said – and Sing invited him to sample a rare medicinal wine, did Gong-thau subside. But as Sing went to pour a taste for each of them, the decanter that held the costly libation slipped from his fingers and shattered on the courtyard's stone flagging. Another omen! Though shaken, Sing made a show of sangfroid: “Not an unlucky sign!” He reached for another bottle and replenished their glasses.
***
Guat-li’s spirit descended to the realm of the dead, where Giam-lo, King of Hell, judged the souls of the departed. Seated on a high jurist’s bench and flanked by a clutch of aides
and officials, the beetle-browed potentate was an awesome sight, stern and majestic.
Guat-li now knelt before him, decrying her husband Tsiu Sing’s coldblooded ways:
Of pity not a shred,
Of conscience not a dollop – He left his wife and child For an avaricious trollop.
Eleven years we lived as one, The child of two’s his natural son The evil done, I quake to tell,
My corpse lies down and ancient well!
She humbly requested that her husband and his accomplices be held to account for her murder:
Dead and gone before my time, Victim of a heinous crime.
A fate befell me most unjust, In you, O lord, I place my trust!
When Guat-li had finished, Giam-lo nodded sagely, then conferred sotto voce with a group of adjutants. He turned to Guat-li again.
The dark lord issued a thunderous decree:
“The brazen Tsiu Sing is loathsome indeed!
In service to justice, I’ll brook no delay – Bring the trio of killers to bay!”
The king then informed Guat-li that he would dispatch a crack team of demons,
specialists in snuffing out lives and snatching souls (thousands at a time, if called for). He directed her to take a seat in the gallery – in but a short while, he assured her, the
murderers would be hauled up for sentencing. However, head bowed, in low, measured tones, lest she inadvertently offend the ruler, Guat-li made an unusual request:
He let his wife and baby starve While he enjoyed his wealth.
So if it pleases Your Highness, I’d rather do the job myself.
Arching a thick black eyebrow, Giam-lo studied her for a time. “Very well,” he said at last, “but I insist you go with one who knows the way, for many a soul has been lost forever in the primordial void that separates the worlds of the living and dead.” Guat-li nodded and bowed in obeisance.
Summoning an aide, he issued an order:
“Back to the land of the living escort her!”
The king imparted an additional instruction to Guat-li’s chaperone: Ut-ti, Guardian of Portals, would likely attempt to intervene.
“He might try to stop her.
If he does, disabuse him:
Say, ‘The order’s from Giam-lo – You dare to refuse him?’”
The spectral servant nodded assent, And out from the gates of Hell they went – Guat-li to the fore, the phantom behind, To aid and assist the vengeful design.
***
Emerging at last from the gloomy vastness, Guat-li found herself outside the house where she had died, her ghostly guide in close attendance.
In the gateway she descried, A shade unseen by living eye;
A daunting figure guarded the portal – A fearsome warrior, a mighty Immortal.
Indeed, it was Ut-ti, divine guardian of doorways, charged with defending homes against invasion by malign spirits. As Giam-lo had predicted, he now stood in Guat-li’s way.
Ut-ti saw her bent on murder And thundered out:
“Halt! Come no further!
The guard denied her entry,
Till the wraith drew near and spoke to the sentry –
“Let her pass,” the phantom said,
“She’s come to claim souls for the Lord of the Dead.”
Ut-ti retracted the prohibition,
For Hell, he knew, had sanctioned the mission.
No longer did he bar the way,
For those within were to die that day.
The dead woman’s specter slipped through the gate and into the compound.
***
Within the walls, festivities were still underway.
Inside, the three were celebrating, Eating, drinking, merry-making,
Sing’s face flushed red with wine and mirth, Of sorrow none; of shame, a dearth.
Indeed, Sing was tipsy and all was delightful But then there appeared a vision frightful:
A ghostly visage hung in the air, Fixed him with a malevolent stare.
Thinking he’d over-imbibed, Sing set his wineglass down, rubbed his eyes, and shook himself. But the apparition remained, piercing him with the same unwavering gaze. He could neither blink nor look away.
He lost all command of muscle and bone, His mind and senses no longer his own.
His wife’s spirit had taken him captive – Tsiu Sing himself would serve as her instrument of revenge:
She possessed him completely, Body and soul,
Gone were intention, Will and control.
A-mi startled at the sudden change that had come over her husband. One minute they'd been spooning and nuzzling, exchanging winey endearments, warm and intimate. The next instant his eyes had glazed over, his skin turned a sickly pale, his hands cold to the touch.