Chapter 107: Shizun’s Portrait

Once the scholard hit his stride, he prattled ceaselessly for four

incoherent hours, all Confucius this and Mencius that and quite over Mo

Ran's head. It made Mo Ran's head spin and his eyelids grow heavy, but he

still had to feign interest—no easy feat, to be sure.

However, when it came to faking attentiveness in lessons, Mo Ran was

highly skilled. First, he'd start with an "Oh?" paired with a furrowed brow,

as if confused or unconvinced. He'd let them talk a while, then try an "Oh…"

and relax his brows to create the impression of dawning comprehension.

Some minutes later, he wouldn't forget to open his eyes wide and make them

sparkle, then go "Ohhh!" to show he'd gained new insight and understanding

thanks to his teacher's brilliant guidance.

Mo Ran had applied these three "ohs" liberally throughout Chu

Wanning's lessons. Unfortunately, Chu Wanning never fell for it; he merely

looked at Mo Ran with cold eyes and told him to shut it.

The little bookworm, on the other hand, had certainly never met such

an "attentive" listener in all his life, and by the end, his eyes were practically

glowing. So delighted was he that his previous reservations and haughtiness

evaporated, and he now only wished dearly that he'd met Mo Ran sooner.

"I understand now," Mo Ran said with a smile. "Now that I've heard

what you have to say, I can see that this painting is truly a priceless

masterpiece."

Had the little bookworm been alive, he would undoubtedly have

blushed bright red. But even without the telltale flush, his excitement was

obvious; he was so elated that he hardly knew what to do with his hands or

where to put his legs. The scholar beamed like a little kid, his gaunt face

alight.

Mo Ran had never seen such a happy ghost.

That should do the trick. Mo Ran rose and bowed respectfully. "It's

getting late," he said, "I'm going to go look around a bit more and find

someplace to stay. If the professor isn't too busy, I'll come again tomorrow."

The scholar's smile grew even brighter at being called "professor" out

of the blue. He was half ecstatic and half panicked as he hurried to demur:

"No, no, no, I'm no professor. I sat the exam several times, but in the end, I

didn't even pass the county-level test to qualify as a xiucai,

17

 I…" He trailed

off with a sigh.

Mo Ran smiled. "The depth of one's knowledge is measured not by

titles and ranks, but by the content of one's heart."

The scholar was shocked. "To…to think you were actually capable of

such eloquence."

"It's something my shizun said once. I'm just lending his words."

The scholar paused for a long beat. "Borrowing his words."

"Oh, is that how it goes? Ha ha ha ha." Mo Ran scratched his head. "I

remembered wrong again."

It was growing late, and the scholar was unlikely to get any more

customers. He began to pack up his cases and pouches. "I'm pretty free

myself," he said, "and it's not every day I hit it off so well with someone.

Though it's said that friendship between gentlemen is light as water,

18

 it's

also said that when meeting friends over wine, a thousand cups is too few, so

I say…"

Mo Ran swiftly cut him off before he could spew any more scholarly

ink. "Let me guess," he said with a smile, "it's getting late, how about we go

for a drink somewhere?"

"Ah, yes, that's right. Some wine to lift the spirits. How about it?"

"Sounds good," Mo Ran nodded. "Professor's treat."

The scholar was completely speechless.

The greasy little table supported a measly plate of a dozen or so

scattered peanuts and two cups of wine scarcely half full. A single dingy

candle was the tavern's only source of light, and behind the counter, the slylooking proprietor wiped a cracked bowl.

"It's a bit shabby." The scholar seemed a little uneasy. "But I never

really got any paper money, so I've only been to a couple places. This one's

the most passable of the lot…"

"It's fine," Mo Ran picked up the wine cup and looked it over

thoughtfully. "Do ghosts eat?"

"It's all fake, works like offerings." The scholar popped a handful of

peanuts in his mouth, but the amount on the plate remained unchanged. "See?"

he explained. "Like this. It's just for the flavor."

Mo Ran calmly set down his cup of wine. He wasn't really dead; if he

ate, he would get busted.

Three rounds of wine later, the scholar had shaken off his earlier

despondency. He chatted with Mo Ran about this and that, then asked, "Mogongzi wanted me to draw someone's portrait earlier. Is it a lover?"

Mo Ran frantically waved a hand. "No, no. It's my shizun."

"Ah." The scholar seemed surprised. "I've been doing business down

here for many years. I've had people come to me looking for paintings of

beauties, but this is the first time someone's asked me to draw their shizun. Is

this shizun of yours good to you?"

Weighed down with guilt, Mo Ran said, "Yes, he's very good to me."

"No wonder, then," the scholar nodded. "What do you want a drawing

of him for?"

"To find him."

"Ah." The scholar looked surprised, "He's in the underworld too?"

"Mn," Mo Ran replied. "I heard that the deceased stay here in Nanke

Town for eight to ten years. I'm worried about him, so I wanted to see if I

could find him and keep him company."

The scholar didn't doubt him in the least; in fact, he was rather moved.

He mulled it over, then sighed. "Such devotion is hard to come by… All

right, Mo-gongzi! I'll do it for you!" As he spoke, he got up and opened his

case to retrieve his drawing tools.

Mo Ran was overjoyed. He thanked him profusely and asked for his

name, thinking he'd burn a pile of money for the poor guy once he returned to

the world of the living. The pair exchanged effusive words of friendship as

Mo Ran helped the man spread out the paper and grind the ink. But as soon as

they set to work, everything screeched to a halt.

"My shizun… He uh…" Mo Ran balled his hand into a fist and

drummed it against his knee several times, but didn't manage to drum up a

single spark of inspiration. He hesitated for a long while, sifting through

every word in his pitiful vocabulary. At last, he managed to squeeze out,

"He's beautiful. Please draw him."

The scholar stared.

"Well? Draw."

There was a long pause. "Beautiful in what way?"

"Isn't it obvious? Just, you know, beautiful. So draw him beautiful."

"Yes, I know, draw him beautiful, but…you know what, never mind.

What kind of face does he have?"

"What kind of face?" Mo Ran stared blankly. After some thought, he

said, "A face is a face."

The scholar was beginning to get irked. "Oval, heart, square, round—

at least give me a shape?"

"I don't know these things! Anyway, he has a handsome face."

The scholar was rendered speechless once again.

"Forget it," Mo Ran said. "If you don't know, then just draw it like my

face. Our faces are shaped pretty similar, anyway."

The scholar gave up on speaking altogether.

Next were the eyes.

"What kind of eyes?" Just as Mo Ran was about to answer, the scholar

added, "Do not say eyes are eyes."

"I know, I know." Mo Ran waved a hand. "His eyes look…

hm, how do I put it? Scary but…charming? And cold but gentle."

The scholar flung down his brush in a rage. "I quit! Go find someone

else!"

"No wait!" Mo Ran grabbed at him hastily. "No one else draws as

well as you do!"

The scholar glared at him in barely contained anger. But Mo Ran's

face shone with sincerity, so he relented and said, stiffly, "Very well, but you

have to give me proper answers."

Mo Ran felt a little wronged. He'd thought his answers were perfectly

fine. What about them hadn't been proper? But beggars couldn't be choosers

—he nodded obediently and hugged the soul-calling lantern close.

"So, the eyes," The scholar got back down to business. "Leopard

eyes? Round eyes? Almond eyes? Phoenix eyes? Or…"

Mo Ran's head was spinning under the barrage of unfamiliar terms. He

shook his head. "Slit eyes?

19

 No, that's way too small. His eyes are upturned;

I don't know what that's called, but they, uh…they swoop upward, really

prettily…"

"That's what phoenix eyes are."

Mo Ran opened his mouth, but seeing the scholar's face like a

thundercloud ready to burst, promptly shut it again. "All right, slit eyes.

Whatever you say."

The scholar continued his questioning. "Nose: high or flat?"

"High."

"Lips: thin or full?"

"Thin."

"Eyebrows: dense or sparse?"

"Dense."

"Thick or thin?"

"Average, I think… Wait, I know this one! He has sword-straight

brows."

"Fine." The scholar laid down a few brush strokes. "Any birthmarks

on his face?"

Mo Ran tilted his head in thought. Then his face reddened as he

mumbled, "Yeah…"

"Where?"

"On his left ear," Mo Ran said haltingly. "A tiny, light-colored mole,

and…" And he's so very sensitive when kissed there.

The scholar quirked a brow. "And?"

"N…" Mo Ran shook his head like a rattle drum and his face turned

even redder. "Nothing."

The scholar shot him a curious glance, but luckily, the light in the

tavern was dim, and he couldn't see how red Mo Ran's face was. He dipped

his brush in the ink again and asked, "Usual attire?"

"He likes to wear white, with his hair pulled up with a jade crown, or

else in a high ponytail." Mo Ran considered, then added, "He also wears his

hair down sometimes, and when he does, he looks really…"

"Don't say beautiful again!" The scholar was at the end of his rope.

"Okay. Handsome then."

The scholar had no words.

With that painful ordeal behind them, the drawing was finally

complete. Mo Ran blew the ink dry and lifted the paper to examine the work.

It wasn't as handsome or beautiful as Chu Wanning, and didn't really look

completely like him, but for his purposes, it was passable. He smiled. "Many

thanks, Professor. It's great."

"I've just about drawn Pan An, Fan Li, Xi Zi, and Diao Chan.

Any other legendary beauties I should add?"

Mo Ran laughed. "After I find Shizun, I'll be sure to thank you again

properly."

They drank and chatted until the skies grew dark, and when it came

time to part ways in front of the tavern, Mo Ran set off with Chu Wanning's

portrait in hand. According to the scholar, there was a place on the fifth street

called Tailwind Hall that made a business of investigating all kinds of things

for Nanke Town's new arrivals.

He headed there without delay.

Outside Tailwind Hall, a banner bearing a black serpent floated lightly

in the breeze. When Mo Ran pushed the door open and strode through, he

was greeted by the sight of a long counter that stretched across the main hall.

A dozen-odd ghosts in ocher red robes sat behind it, each wearing a wooden

mask painted with a snarling face that concealed their real features from

view. Before every masked ghost stood a long, meandering line of the

deceased bearing assorted expressions and various requests.

Hundreds of white wax candles hovered near the rafters of the

building, casting overlapping shadows upon the overlapping dead. The place

was packed, and ghosts came and went without pause.

"Sir, can you help me find my younger brother? His name is Zhang

Bayi, from Gusu. He was twenty-one years old when he died…"

"You have a portrait?"

"N-no."

"That's fine, but it'll cost ten times as much."

Farther along the counter…

"Look, laddie—"

The masked ghost cleared her throat, her voice clear and crisp.

"Ah, sorry, didn' know you was a miss. Missy, it's like this. So, when

I died, that wife o' mine said she definitely won' remarry, but I been seeing

her and my li'l bro makin' eyes at one another a while now, an' I just can't

accept that. So can you help me check an' see if she's bein' a proper widow

up there or if she ran off with my li'l bro?"

"Here's our price list for the investigation of matters in the living

world. Please take a look."

And on the other side…

"Excuse me—I liked a girl when I was alive, but she was from a

wealthy family. I was just a poor scholar who couldn't even pass the

imperial exam, and I didn't have the guts to confess to her, so I didn't stand a

chance. She got married eventually. At first, I was happy for her, but it turned

out that the guy was already married…" The ghost sighed. "There was an

accident, and she…passed on before me. I want to ask about two things: the

first is her current whereabouts, and the second is…if we'll be fated in our

next life."

"We can certainly investigate matters of the next life. However, the

cost will not be in money, but in years of your lifespan from your next life.

As for the lady's whereabouts, please provide her name and portrait."

"Oh, okay, okay. I have her portrait here. Her surname is Yao, given

name Lan…"

There were ghosts chattering away like this at every counter. Even

when their bodies had long rotted, they couldn't relinquish their worldly

attachments.

Mo Ran walked a circuit around the room, clutching his lantern and

peering left and right. He noted that in exchange for answers, the people of

Tailwind Hall only took two things in payment: money or years of lifespan.

He had no money. But if he let them take from his lifespan, they might

discover he was a living person who had infiltrated the underworld. He grew

increasingly fretful, and cursed Master Huaizui for not having the foresight to

give him some paper money for a such a situation.

He looked again at the price list. The cost of simply inquiring after

someone wasn't particularly high. Mo Ran made up his mind and ran back

toward the tavern. It took a bit of searching to locate the scholar again, and

every ounce of his persuasive power to convince the man to lend Mo Ran a

few meager silvers.

Money in hand, Mo Ran returned to Tailwind Hall. He waited in line

for half an age before it was finally his turn.

"I'm looking for someone," Mo Ran said urgently. "Here's his

portrait." He handed Chu Wanning's portrait over and was about to say more

—but unexpectedly, the person at the counter took only a single glance at the

portrait before chuckling and rolling the scroll back up.

"Why are you looking for him?"

"Ah?" Mo Ran was taken aback. "You can tell where he is just by

looking at the painting?"

"Of course. But first, tell me—why are you looking for him?"

"He's someone I know."

The masked ghost shot him another look. "Wait here, please," he said.

He leaned over to the colleague next to him, and the two shared a hushed

discussion. When he turned back to Mo Ran, his tone had warmed

considerably.

"Since you're Sir Chu's acquaintance, no payment is necessary." The

ghost rose to his feet and beckoned Mo Ran forward. "Come along, then.

Follow me upstairs."