The Ghost of the Pagoda Tree

I was seeing ghosts, quite literally.

I could distinctly feel the absence of life within the elderly woman. A chill wind swirled around her, and the leaves of the pagoda trees swayed, casting a myriad of moonlit shadows across the ground.

My resolve instantly wavered. Ghosts and spirits were far too supernatural for my liking. Even though Ling Chen had assured me they posed no harm, I was terrified of them!

Yet, I was like an arrow already nocked; there was no turning back now.

How could a true man fear ghosts? Even as a beautiful maiden, I can’t afford to be so weak.

As a staunch—strike that—materialist, I feared nothing!

This was a moment to leverage my subjective initiative.

As a great leader once said, “Who are our enemies? Who are our friends? This is the primary question of revolution.”

What was my identity now? The regulator of the Inner World.

If the divine was part of the Inner World’s order, then, as Ling Chen had put it, I was a civil servant. My mission was to serve the people of the Inner World wholeheartedly!

What was the identity of a ghost? A pitiful soul awaiting liberation, a worker-peasant I was meant to assist!

The old society turned humans into ghosts; the new society turns ghosts back into humans.

To transcend this elderly woman, to help her reincarnate—that was the process of turning a ghost back into a human.

These wandering spirits were all unfortunate souls. Oppressed by the old society (the Outer World), their resentment had transformed them into restless ghosts even after death.

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here. The devils of the human world had turned them into ghosts; the truly terrifying thing was the ugliness of the human heart.

I understood this deeply. I had never seen a ghost harm anyone, only humans harming humans.

What is a human? A human is the sum of all social relations. Ghosts, or spirits, are transformed humans. Even if they depart the human world, they remain part of society.

They are the unfortunate ones. Perhaps they become malevolent spirits that prey on humanity, but ultimately, it was humans who turned them into ghosts. They chose such a path out of sheer helplessness.

If not for lingering obsessions, for deep-seated, unforgettable hatred, who would willingly remain unresting even after death?

The conflict between humans and ghosts was not an antagonistic one, but rather, to some extent, an internal conflict among the people. On the path to building a harmonious Inner World, they were allies I needed to unite with. We were comrades on the same front.

*What profound class solidarity!*

This elderly woman, now a spirit, suddenly appeared benevolent in my mind’s eye. If my legs weren’t trembling so violently, I would have truly wanted to pat her shoulder and call her “Old Comrade.”

Gritting my teeth, I stepped forward, offering the elderly woman a smile, and asked in a concerned tone, “Grandma, it’s so late. Aren’t you going home yet?”

“I apologize, my memory isn’t what it used to be. I don’t remember faces. Who are you?”

“I’m just a passerby, walking by this way. I saw you standing here alone and grew a little concerned. Are you lost? Do you need me to contact your family for you?”

The elderly woman glanced at me, a faint smile appearing on her eerily pale face. Although the smile was incredibly chilling, it seemed the elderly woman harbored no ill will.

*Alright, clench my thighs, hold back the urge to pee, and try not to let tears of fear escape. Keep this up, I can do it!*

“Thank you for your concern. My home is nearby. I just habitually wait for my family here.”

“Family?”

*How was I supposed to help this elderly woman find peace? Perhaps her family was the key.*

*If her lingering attachment to her family was why she became a wandering spirit, then perhaps fulfilling her last wish would allow her to finally rest.*

I continued to probe, “May I ask who you are waiting for?”

The elderly woman chuckled, “My son.”

“Why hasn’t your son returned?”

The old woman suddenly fell silent. The deathly quiet atmosphere filled me with alarm. Had I said something wrong?

*Oh no, what do I do now? Waaah, I’m not some professional ghost-exorcising monk or Taoist priest. Just talking to these supernatural beings has already used up all my courage. How am I supposed to know what to do?*

*Will a wandering spirit turn into a malevolent one if it gets angry? Will chanting the Diamond Sutra be effective against an evil spirit? No, I think I read in a novel that when transcending the deceased, one should chant the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva’s Fundamental Vows Sutra. But how would I know the contents of Buddhist scriptures?*

*I should have brought a Bible. But would a Bible even work? God, please save me!*

Plunged into fear, I immediately began praying to gods and Buddhas.

This was a moment for self-criticism. Such a weak person like me was truly the scum of humanity. Though I claimed to be a materialist, in times of crisis, I hoped for supernatural powers to help me overcome difficulties.

A person with such wavering conviction as myself ought to be expelled from the left. I was no longer worthy of being a young leftist who adhered to Marxist materialism. But comrades, with my example as a lesson, we must unite! Stop expelling each other from the left, or the Trotskyists will laugh at us.

The elderly woman pondered for a long time before looking up at me and saying, “Girl, could you do me a favor?”

I nodded. “As long as it’s within my ability, I will certainly help.”

“That’s wonderful. Could you help me deliver a message to my son? I’m old now, and I don’t know how to contact him anymore. His phone has been disconnected for a long time. But you young people must have a way, right?”

Hearing my affirmative reply, a grateful smile faintly graced the elderly woman’s wrinkled face. Her gaze drifted into the distance, as if lost in memory.

“Before my husband passed, he always worried about our son. Every night, he would come here to wait for him, often until the dead of night. He said that when our son was little, he was mischievous and often ran away from home, but every night at this time, he would sneak back. My husband hoped our son would still return just like he used to.”

Beneath the elderly woman’s calm words lay an indescribable sorrow. Moved by the atmosphere, I couldn’t help but ask, “What message should I relay to your son?”

The elderly woman smiled, shaking her head with a hint of regret. “Help us tell our son that we’re old and useless now. We truly can’t help him with the money he owes. But I’ve decided to sell this house. We have a little money left, and we’ll help pay back as much as we can. We just hope he can come back for one New Year. I haven’t seen him in over ten years; I’ve almost forgotten what he looks like.”

I replied earnestly, “Yes, I will definitely deliver your message.”

With a sigh of relief, the elderly woman said, “I finally understand my old man now. It’s been so many years…”

The elderly woman’s body began to turn ethereal, dissolving into specks of golden light that drifted into the air. She seemed to realize something, and a glimmer of clarity appeared in her hazy eyes. As if in a final moment of lucidity, she looked at me with a benevolent gaze.

“So that is it… Girl, you are Guanyin Bodhisattva, aren’t you?”

She closed her eyes contentedly, murmuring incessantly, “This is wonderful, truly wonderful. Thank you.”

The elderly woman transformed into a brilliant golden glow, gradually dissolving into the moonlight, but her words lingered in my ears, echoing long after.

I instinctively touched my cheek and found tears unknowingly streaming down, pattering onto the ground.

Why? Why did I feel such profound sadness?

The elderly woman had successfully found peace through my help, leaving the world with a sense of relief. Yet, what was this feeling of an unfillable void within me?

[Ding, your side quest has been completed.]
[Quest rewards are being distributed.]

I could barely hear the system’s voice, my gaze fixed intently on the residential building ahead.

The dark building occasionally had a few lit rooms, but it felt deserted, devoid of life, decaying in its long solitude, awaiting the day it would inevitably crumble. It might once have been an apartment complex for laborers, built by passionate workers, carrying past glories, leaving an indelible mark in the memories of every resident.

But times had changed. People were trapped in their memories, unable to move on, and the building, too, faded amidst its former glory. Like the elderly woman, this old neighborhood, built in the last century, was about to meet its end in this era.

I suddenly realized that this mission hadn’t truly ended, and perhaps never would. In the moment the elderly woman found peace, I seemed to glimpse my own future—a future heavy with a profound sense of foreboding.

*A lonely death.*

I chuckled self-deprecatingly. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t usually a sentimental person.

The future was still far away. What was I worrying about?

In any case, I should call the police.