Chapter 22

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Chapter 22: Title

“I think we should follow them,” Zhang Wutong said without hesitation, turning to Cui Ming. “Two days ago, we received a missing persons case report.”

“A twenty-five-year-old woman boarded a taxi on Huiwen Road around nine that evening to return home,” he continued, just as they passed the street sign bearing those very characters.

“She never arrived. Her family reported her disappearance a day later when they realized something was wrong.”

“Shortly after, hikers discovered a female corpse in the wilderness.”

“The body bore multiple injuries from violent struggle—the fatal wound being neck trauma. Evidence suggests she was strangled by an adult male, with signs of sexual assault.”

“She wore a white sweater dress. A discarded pink handbag nearby had a gray bunny keychain, and around her neck was a pink crystal necklace.”

“You haven’t closed this case yet?” Zhan Yuan interjected, brow furrowed at the thought of such a young girl meeting this fate.

“We have,” Zhang Wutong answered grimly.

“The killer was arrested last night at eight. He confessed fully and now awaits trial—though his mental illness may lead to leniency.”

“As I’ve warned before,” Cui Ming remarked coolly, “murder victims often become vengeful spirits. You’ve not forgotten?”

Were it not for such cases, Cui Ming might never have glimpsed the rot festering beneath society’s peaceful facade. Death was common; understanding its aftermath less so.

“The victim died over twenty-four hours ago. The killer remains unharmed, and our surveillance at the death site has yielded nothing.”

“Her unresolved obsession lingers here,” Zhan Yuan cut in abruptly.

“We must hurry. This young lady ghost is trapped in some fixation—delay further, and the driver’s doomed.”

“Cui Ming—recall our first assignment.”

“The intersection incident,” Cui Ming responded.

“A ghost killed in a traffic collision haunted that crossroads, causing six crashes in three days—five dead, twenty-six injured.”

“This spirit’s far more potent than that careless pedestrian. Yet I sense no karmic taint—she hasn’t claimed lives yet.”

As they spoke, the urban landscape faded behind them, giving way to sparse suburbs.

“Old Wang,” Zhang Wutong barked into his phone, “track my signal and send backup.”

The taxi’s headlights soon illuminated barren fields flanking the road, buildings now distant memories.

“Five minutes to the dumping site,” Zhang Wutong muttered, dreading confirmation of his suspicions. Zhan Yuan’s analysis already pointed to the victim’s spirit.

“Slow the approach—maintain distance.” Cui Ming glanced over his shoulder at Zhan Yuan. “Investigate. Prevent casualties.”

“Understood.”

Zhan Yuan nodded. As a Supernatural Phenomena Division contractor bound by his pact with the Special Bureau, duty called.

*

The taxi halted roadside. The white-clad woman emerged, offering the driver a serene smile before he scrambled out, lust plain on his face—a sight that turned Zhan Yuan’s stomach.

An older ghost himself, Zhan Yuan possessed more strength than fledgling spirits. His Special Bureau collaborations had honed his instincts.

He drifted past the parked surveillance car twenty meters back, phasing behind the enthralled driver. With a whispered breath of ghostly energy, he snuffed out the man’s sunlight aura at the shoulder.

The taxi driver had already been blinded by the ghost, his two shoulder flames dimming with one particularly weak. Zhan Yuan extinguished the remaining flame with a breath, causing ghostly energy to surge through the driver’s body. The man shuddered violently before collapsing unconscious.

This intervention would leave the driver bedridden for several days – an appropriate punishment for his lustful tendencies. Falling ill remained preferable to losing one’s life entirely.

The young lady ghost recoiled in alarm as her recent host crumpled to the pavement, spectral form trembling while casting nervous glances about. Even in death, feminine timidity persisted.

Materializing before the apparition, Zhan Yuan flashed a roguish grin. "Zhan Yuan of the Special Bureau’s Supernatural Phenomena Division at your service, young lady ghost."

"I hereby formally serve you an arrest warrant for attempted murder."

Zhongxia’s current policy demanded even spirits abide by national laws – alive as children of Huaxia, deceased as eternal guardians of its spirit. This ghost-governance approach showed provisional success in crisis management, though far from constituting a permanent solution.

None could predict when the "Awakening of Ghosts" might cease. Each spirit possessed precisely seven days between manifestation and compulsory departure to the Underworld. The reason for this exodus remained unclear even to ghosts themselves, though an instinctive dread of lingering beyond the deadline persisted universally.

The ominous premonition proved sufficient deterrent – no spirit dared test the consequences of overstaying.

As the group emerged from vehicles, Bai Ye hesitated before joining them. Staying near police officers and supernatural operatives promised relative safety.

"Zhan Yuan’s perpetual nonchalance does have advantages," Jiang Fei commented while walking with Cui Ming. "No performance reviews. No citizen complaints."

"Shall I request your transfer to his department? You could infiltrate the Underworld for intelligence."

"Retract that suggestion, Chief! I cherish my living status." Jiang Fei coughed nervously. Becoming a restless spirit held no appeal.

The female ghost found herself encircled by able-bodied men.

"Cui Ming, Chief of the Special Bureau’s Special Operations Section." The officer produced credentials from his suit’s inner pocket, nodding courteously.

"Jiang Fei, Deputy Chief." His subordinate mirrored the gesture.

"Zhang Wutong, Hanzhou City Police Containment Unit Leader." The officer displayed his badge, still technically an external collaborator rather than full Bureau member.

Overwhelmed by official titles, the specter’s gaze eventually settled on the sole silent observer.

Bai Ye shifted uncomfortably under the ghostly scrutiny. "Name’s Bai Ye." His curt response aimed to redirect attention elsewhere. The apparition’s deathly pallor obscured any aesthetic qualities – he simply saw mortality personified.

"State your purpose." The spirit seemed perplexed by Bai Ye’s abruptness compared to others’ elaborate introductions.

Her frigid demeanor faltered momentarily when meeting Bai Ye’s eyes – an inexplicable dread briefly surpassing her fear of Zhan Yuan. The fleeting sensation left her questioning its authenticity.

"You’re being detained for attempted murder."

"Merely a conversation about your transformation, Miss Qin Ya," Zhang Wutong interjected, revealing his knowledge of her identity.

"Show proper remorse and consequences may be mitigated," Zhan Yuan added with characteristic levity. "New spirits often struggle with self-control after ghost transformation."

His words catalyzed Qin Ya’s metamorphosis from fearful spirit to vengeful wraith.

"Why should I repent?" Her shriek scraped like nails on slate, finger jabbing toward the murder scene. "He slaughtered me despite my pleas! Where were your laws when I screamed for salvation?"

At this hour, the road leading to the suburbs remained deserted. Had any vehicles passed by, they might’ve been forced to stop and report to authorities, potentially facing accusations of sexual misconduct.

Ghosts possess the ability to manifest in corporeal human form or remain entirely invisible, with the former state requiring less energy expenditure under moonlight.

Having been deceased for several days, Zhan Yuan demonstrated superior control over these manifestations – shifting between full transparency and semi-transparency to selectively reveal himself.

He’d employed precisely this technique earlier within the vehicle.

"Miss Qin Ya," Zhang Wutong spoke with measured calm, "your assailant has been apprehended and will face due justice. There’s no need to stain your hands with a scumbag’s blood."

His experience in such matters proved considerable, having dealt with six separate hauntings across Hanzhou City this week alone, excluding Bai Ye’s incident.

As his seventh spectral case, Qin Ya found Zhang Wutong’s ghost-calming techniques almost artfully practiced through repetition.

"Will he die because I’m dead?" Her bitter laugh sliced through the night.

Educated and legally astute, she understood exactly what punishment awaited her murderer.

"With proper contrition, he might negotiate an out-of-court settlement or offer financial compensation. A decade imprisoned? Life sentence at worst? Does any of this compensate for my stolen life?"

Her glacial stare swept across the men. "My family’s grief… their anguish… all wrought by you wretched males."

The uncomfortable silence thickened as every present male fell under her damning categorization.

Cui Ming and Zhan Yuan exchanged meaningful glances, opting for silence. Jiang Fei and Bai Ye followed their lead, recognizing the precariousness of speech.

Only Zhang Wutong possessed full knowledge of Qin Ya’s case file. The others’ fragmentary understanding made them ill-suited for intervention – reckless words might escalate tensions dangerously.

"The death penalty applies here," Zhang Wutong affirmed with a resigned exhale.

He recalled the grim details: a drunken taxi driver’s sexual assault, murder, and calculated corpse disposal. Though precedents existed for lighter sentences, recent mandates demanded maximum severity for such crimes.

"Should you provide testimony, Miss Qin, the Special Bureau could authorize exceptional punitive measures." His gaze shifted meaningfully toward Cui Ming. "The Chief of Special Action Division One here can verify this."

"Guaranteed," Cui Ming confirmed with a curt nod. Zhang Wutong wouldn’t suggest this unless the perpetrator’s guilt proved absolute – why show mercy when evidence demanded retribution?

"Truly?"

Tires screeched as a patrol car materialized, braking violently nearby. Two uniformed officers emerged, hastening to Zhang Wutong.

"Captain? Wang didn’t brief us," the first officer panted.

"Li Rui," Zhang Wutong instructed, "document Miss Qin’s statement and escort her for full case briefing."

"Mi-Miss Qin?" Li Rui paled, fighting nausea as the living woman’s face superimposed over autopsy photos in his memory.

"Officer Li’s been managing your case," Zhang Wutong explained. All murder cases eventually reached their prevention unit, given ghosts’ higher emergence rate from violent deaths versus ordinary death incidents.

Li Rui extended a trembling hand toward the eerily preserved victim. "Pleasure."

Qin Ya ignored the gesture, addressing Zhang Wutong sharply: "You claimed personal oversight."

"Cases close upon perpetrator capture. Officer Li handles this phase impeccably." Zhang Wutong turned to the second officer. "Yangzi – assist that taxi driver into his vehicle for station transfer."

"Does that mean I have to escort Miss Qin to the shelter alone with a ghost?" Li Rui nearly leaped in fright. Having never ventured to the "front lines" due to his timid disposition, the idea of solitary ghostly companionship terrified him.

"Fear her harming you? Unnecessary. Public servants carry righteous aura – spirits should fear you." Zhan Yuan chuckled lightly. "Haven’t you noticed we can’t even step into police stations?"

"Captain, must I truly accompany her…" Li Rui’s cheek twitched, silently noting Zhan Yuan’s conspicuous lack of apprehension.

"Does Miss Qin consent to accompany him? We’ll convey any messages or fulfill requests for your family." Zhang Wutong addressed Qin Ya directly, disregarding Li Rui’s protest.

"Agreed." Qin Ya inclined her head.

Though freshly deceased for merely two days, the ghost’s initial murderous vengeance obsession had curiously dissipated since encountering Zhang Wutong’s team, her consciousness now eerily lucid.

The group watched Qin Ya enter the patrol car with Li Rui, while Yangzi assisted the middle-aged taxi driver into the vehicle.

"The boy’s cowardice amuses. Given your daily ghostly encounters, you’d have perished long ago if spirits truly threatened." Zhan Yuan clicked his tongue pensively.

"Yet you all carry… something unsettling. Cui Ming – still no analysis?"

"Righteous aura suffices." Cui Ming deadpanned, striding toward the roadside vehicle without breaking expression.

"Your humor decays." Zhan Yuan quickened his pace after the retreating figure.

"Move out. Thirty minutes remain till seven o’clock." Jiang Fei sighed, nudging Zhang Wutong and Bai Ye forward. "This delay guarantees extra paperwork." His grumbles continued with each step.

"Proceed." Zhang Wutong gave Bai Ye a curt nod.

*

The standalone villa occupied the northwest periphery of the suburban villa area – perpetually unsold due to undesirable location, neighboring properties equally vacant. Now commandeered by the Special Bureau.

"Scheduled for six-thirty arrival? Premature perhaps?" Ye Linlang mused, having long consumed her extradimensional family bucket meal.

[Conversation detected at 14:00 hours. Team diverted to resolve Z-207 specter incident en route.]

[Access monitoring records?]

"Resolved?"

[Affirmative.]

"Unnecessary." She flicked her wrist dismissively. "Current position?"

[Entry imminent.]

As the system’s words faded, the villa door creaked open admitting several figures… plus one translucent companion.

"Final approach." Ye Linlang rose gracefully from the armchair. Though her concealment system maintained illusionary camouflage, physical contact would breach the facade. Memory alteration remained possible… but beneath her concerns.

"Central position, Bai Ye. Camera coverage requires full angles." Jiang Fei guided the youth into seat.

"Surveillance?"

"Documentation purposes." Cui Ming settled into Ye Linlang’s vacated chair. "Potential utility."

The empty cushion retained faint warmth as the hidden observer watched, undetected.

Zhang Wutong and Jiang Fei sat side by side on a two-person sofa, while Zhan Yuan, as a ghost himself, had no need to sit and simply stood beside Cui Ming.

"Time’s about right, Chief. Shall we begin?" Jiang Fei inquired, placing the black suitcase he’d been cradling onto the coffee table before Cui Ming.

"Proceed."

With a click, the case opened to reveal a glass container housing a hexagonal bronze bell. The artifact bore an archaic charm, its surface etched with patterns that seemed haphazard at first glance yet revealed meticulous order upon closer inspection. Modern technology had scrutinized every millimeter of this relic since its discovery, documenting every contour and engraving.

Had they not feared provoking the female ghost’s wrath with a counterfeit, the Special Bureau would gladly have replaced this treasure with a replica. Despite their exhaustive studies, the bell’s secrets remained stubbornly elusive.

Jiang Fei extended the glass case toward Bai Ye. "You should do the honors. We’re in uncharted territory now."

"Me?" Bai Ye’s fingers hovered uncertainly. "But the ghost only mentioned wanting the bell. Who knows when she’ll actually—" His words died as the sigil on his wrist suddenly burned, nearly making him fumble the container.

The room held its breath as crimson mist began coiling through the air, tendrils weaving themselves into a womanly form of impossible grace – arched brows framing almond eyes, willowy waist cinched by jade-adorned silks, every movement flowing like poetry.

While others gaped at the apparition’s beauty, Zhan Yuan felt the atmosphere thicken with palpable pressure. This millennium-old spirit radiated ghostly energy that made his fledgling existence seem feeble by comparison. His colleagues remained oblivious, entranced by the vision before them.

"Eyes up, gentlemen!" Zhan Yuan’s sharp tone shattered the spell. "Never seen a pretty face before?"

"My bell," the Ghost in Red murmured, delight dancing in her voice as she materialized fully. Without ceremony, she claimed the artifact from Bai Ye’s trembling hands, tucking it into her scarlet sleeve.

Cui Ming’s team exchanged uneasy glances, their faint disappointment at losing the relic tempered by prior expectations. Bai Ye flushed slightly under the ghost’s amused gaze.

"Silver-tongued fledgling," the Ghost in Red tilted her head at Zhan Yuan, lips curving. "Most don’t fare so well after ghost transformation."

"Lucky?" Zhan Yuan blurted before catching himself. "Being dead counts as fortunate now?"

"Better than fading into nothingness, wouldn’t you say?" Her retort carried centuries of weight.

Cui Ming stepped forward, relief easing his tension as the spirit proved communicative. "Miss Ghost in Red, I’m Cui Ming from Zhongxia’s Special Abnormal Events Investigation Bureau. As Chief of Special Operations Section, I—"

"Zhongxia…" The ghost’s snow-melt smile interrupted him. "The nation born after the People’s era. And I’m no ‘Miss Ghost’ – Hong Yi will suffice."

Jiang Fei’s eyes lingered on her crimson robes. "Hong Yi… is that your true name?"

"No," Ghost in Red shook her head.

In the past, women never casually revealed their maiden names, though her silence stemmed from different reasons.

"I’ve been dead for centuries. My original name faded with time. This current name was given to me by a girl long ago – it serves well enough."

"May I ask, Miss Ghost in Red, have you established contact with our modern era?"

Documents from the Special Bureau’s Analysis Section 3 noted European spirits speaking archaic English variants, yet this scarlet-clad specter conversed flawlessly in contemporary Mandarin that had only become standardized within the last hundred years…

"Several students perished at that institution. Before their souls faded into oblivion, I… communicated with them." Her words tacitly confirmed Section 3’s theories.

"Merely communicated?" Cui Ming probed further, carefully testing the boundaries of their fragile dialogue.

"A transaction, perhaps. They surrendered posthumous memories, and I preserved what remained of their spirits." Ghost in Red’s tone held no particular secrecy.

"When circumstances permit, I guide those souls to rebirth. Officer Zhang here witnessed them recently." Her crimson sleeves shifted toward Zhang Wutong.

Cui Ming’s questioning gaze found the policeman.

"If you mean those swirling clusters of black mist, then yes." Zhang Wutong’s confirmation came with a curt nod.

Zhan Yuan observed silently. Though devoid of malignant energy, the entity’s ghostly presence dwarfed any he’d encountered – an ocean compared to puddles.

Cui Ming recalled Section 3’s profile: a spirit constrained by circumstance rather than malice. Trapped within the school’s boundaries, she’d spared lives during the rooftop incident despite Bai Ye shattering the jade pendant that could have sealed her fate.

They’d all walked the knife’s edge between survival and catastrophe that night.

"Miss Ghost in Red," Cui Ming began carefully, indicating Zhan Yuan, "These manifestations began six days ago. Tonight marks the seventh."

"Ghosts materialize citywide, yet we remain ignorant of the cause. Would you enlighten us?"

The spirit considered briefly before inclining her head. "Very well."

Cui Ming’s team barely contained their relief. "Might we establish a remote connection?" he asked, maintaining professional composure.

"Do as you require."

"Consider this repayment for retrieving the bell. Afterwards, our accounts balance." Her warning hung crystalline in the air.

"We merely assisted Bai Ye in locating it," Cui Ming ventured.

"My awareness extends beyond these walls." Ghost in Red’s reply brooked no argument. Spiritual debts carried weight no mortal could fathom.

Jiang Fei’s laptop hummed to life, cables snaking across the conference table. The screen flickered to reveal Chief Lin Jing of Analysis Section 3, his wire-rimmed glasses catching the monitor’s glow.

"Greetings, Miss Ghost in Red."

"You may address me as Lin Jing." The crisply suited section chief offered a diplomat’s smile.

"Chief Lin will continue the inquiry." Cui Ming withdrew from camera range, leaving the spirit facing her interrogator.

"Proceed." Lin Jing adjusted his tie.

Ghost in Red tilted her head, crimson lips curving. "What burning questions haunt your analysts?"

"On October 18th, your initial manifestation occurred at Hanzhou City’s No. 3 Middle School rooftop. Subsequent days brought spectral outbreaks citywide. Explain this correlation."

Lin Jing’s tone carried gentleness, yet his words held no trace of circumspection.

"Are you implying my emergence caused these spirits to manifest?" The Ghost in Red inquired with glacial composure, unperturbed by his bluntness.

"That remains our current hypothesis."

"Not my awakening, but the resurgence of Spiritual Energy revived me," she clarified after contemplative pause, weighing how to phrase revelations beyond mortal comprehension.

"Spiritual Energy? This ‘reappearance’ implies its prior existence followed by disappearance?"

"Indeed."

"When did it vanish? Why resurface now?"

"Unknown." Her crimson sleeves rippled with the shake of her head. "At my deathbed, Spiritual Energy already waned. Soon after, it drained from heaven and earth entirely. Only through the bronze bell interred with me could I endure these thousands of years."

Lin Jing’s fingers twitched imperceptibly. That unassuming artifact held such power?

"Does Spiritual Energy’s return herald multiplying ghosts?"

"At present concentrations?" Her laughter chimed like distant temple bells. "This feeble flow couldn’t sustain mass ghost transformation. Weaker still than my mortal era."

A pause. "Yet today’s essence carries richer threads than yesterday’s. Perhaps gradual restoration unfolds."

"If not universal, what sparks ghost transformation?"

"Obsession." Her voice hollowed. "A wandering Taoist once taught: the fiercer one’s dying fixation, the tighter death’s grasp fails." She shrugged, millennia of solitude veiling her words. "Most centuries I slumbered in coffin-darkness."

Had grave-robbers not violated her tomb, she might’ve dreamt until Spiritual Energy’s full Awakening.

"The wandering Taoist!" Lin Jing leaned forward, eyes alight. "Elaborate, if you would."

Silence pooled like spilled ink. When she spoke, centuries weighed each syllable: "Must I bare ancient scars for your Bureau’s convenience?"

Lin Jing maintained steady composure. Classified reports flashed through his mind – her A-class designation towering over B/C/D ranks filled with fledgling spirits. The Special Bureau’s entire containment strategy hinged on this dialogue.

"Miss Ghost in Red, modern society rejects supernatural truths. Your existence destabilizes fragile realities. Should ordinary people learn…" He spread his hands, the perfect image of bureaucratic reason. "…chaos ensues. We require context to maintain control."

Cui Ming stifled a gasp. Was Lin Jing taunting the thousand-year-old ghost through sheer audacity? Their team stood paralyzed – no match if those crimson nails turned lethal.

A sigh whispered through the chamber like autumn wind through barren branches. "That Taoist and I…" Her gaze turned inward, seeing eras long dust. "What matters now? All witnesses lie centuries buried."

"Very well. Hear then of my eighteenth summer."

Eight centuries past, before blood stained her bridal silks crimson, she’d been a magistrate’s daughter journeying home to Lin County. War’s shadow clawed the land. It was then they met the young Taoist – eyes bright with crusading zeal, saving her family from marauders.

Had history stopped there, perhaps poets might have sung of heroic meets and blushing glances. The young Taoist moved with celestial grace, his wisdom belying tender years. Grateful parents invited their savior to accompany them, never suspecting how cosmic wheels began turning.

The sky was darkening, and if the young Taoist continued his journey to the city, he would face nights in the wilderness.

Moved by their heartfelt hospitality, the newly descended Taoist who lacked refusal skills acquiesced.

Truth be told, the Ghost in Red’s parents persisted in their invitation both to express gratitude and seek protection. The young Taoist’s martial prowess brought comfort for the road ahead.

Bound by his worldly mission, the young Taoist couldn’t linger.

"…That golden bell was his parting gift. My parents buried it with me, unwittingly forging my ghostly existence." The Ghost in Red paused, omitting details like autumn leaves left unswept.

What lingered between them defied simple labels – not quite love’s confession, yet more than casual fondness. A connection fated yet unfulfilled, sustained through sporadic letters until that final correspondence bearing a golden bell for her twentieth birthday.

"Afterwards, he vanished from my existence."

The inevitable matrimonial fate of women – perhaps that era’s cruelest jest.

Though reared in sheltered chambers, the Ghost in Red’s spoiled nature rebelled against arranged vows. Now reflecting, she mused how different choices might have spared her parents this grief, her spectral form heavy with belated filial remorse.

Lin Jing focused not on her personal tale but the crucial wandering Taoist.

"On my seventh-night return as a ghost, a servant’s scream summoned that roaming priest who claimed purpose in my presence."

"He identified as the young Taoist’s master, come to mend his disciple’s deeds."

"The golden bell transformed me into a ghost cultivator. To both assist and contain me, the wandering Taoist entombed me with instructions for proper burial."

"His hand-painted suppressive symbols harmed not, yet bound me eternally to the coffin while my corpse remained within."

"By his disciple’s request, the master crafted tomb formations to gather sparse Spiritual Energy for my cultivation."

"Only accumulated Spiritual Energy or human interference could break these bindings… His design was to imprison me until energies resurged…"

Lin Jing’s thoughts turned to the Special Bureau’s struggles – their hunt for genuine Practitioners yielding only charlatans and honest incompetents. Ghosts existing shattered scientific dogma, yet state workers clung to protocol. Perhaps fading Spiritual Energy explained their failed searches.

"Why fear Bai Ye’s jade pendant? You called it ‘jade symbol’."

The Ghost in Red’s crimson gaze shifted to the silent couch occupant. "That trinket isn’t truly yours, is it?"

Under collective scrutiny, Bai Ye confessed: "Family elders gifted this ancient jade pendant for my birthday."

"Jade symbols vary," she explained. "His master possessed one similarly sized but unmarked. Spiritual Energy-etched talismans within shatter upon activation."

"The glow merely detects ghostly presence," her laugh held winter’s edge. "That depleted relic couldn’t have slain me regardless."

Bai Ye grimaced at his past recklessness’s hollow triumph.

"Can ordinary people wield these?" Lin Jing envisioned mass-produced protections.

"Only Practitioners or bloodline bearers channel their Spiritual Energy thus." The ghost’s tone turned probing. "Your Bureau’s ignorance baffles me."

Anticipating the next question, she continued: "His bloodline awakened it. The pendant once bore his blood, sparking automatic defense."

"Bloodline bearer?" Lin Jing’s notebook filled with fresh questions.

Bai Ye touched his hand where jade had met blood. Nearby, Ye Linlang’s illusion-magic hummed contentedly – memory alterations proved unnecessary with convincing testimony.

"Special?" The Ghost in Red’s voice softened. "He claimed it ordinary." That single pronoun evoked silent understanding – all present recognized her eternal reference to the long-departed young Taoist.