spirits busy in the expiation of their sins,
and the hell officials who facilitated their moral rehabilitation, using
whatever tools were available to them—fire, chains, whips, spears and
hammers for choice. Such work made demons short-tempered and violent in their
integrity. What it did to the spirits did not bear thinking about.
The tenth court was for souls who had worked off all their
sins, or who had not had sins worth speaking of, or who'd simply had a grand
enough funeral—and hence, sufficient hell money—to buy their way
out of the torments. It was a waiting room, where spirits waited for their new
lives to be prepared for them. This meant that it was a considerably more
tranquil place to be dead than every other court of hell. The demons, grown
soft from lack of exercise, were as pleasure-seeking and corrupt as any human
official.
Peace and stability meant the development of a society. The
tenth court was where souls could enjoy the hard-earned fruits of their deaths:
the mansions their descendants had burnt for them, the incense that floated
down from the living world straight into their grateful nostrils. If a spirit
was rich, or powerful, or simply intelligent, he could manage it so he went on
residing in the tenth court for a long time, avoiding the invitation to tea
with Lady Meng that heralded the change to the next life.
Junsheng had been a rich man in life. He had left many
children and grandchildren to tend his grave and burn him gifts year after
year, so that the condition had persisted after death. When Siew Tsin met him
he had been dead for twenty years. This was a long time to have evaded the loss
of self entailed by reincarnation, even taking into account the inefficiency of
hellish bureaucracy.
Fourth Great-Uncle must have meant well. He must have
thought that Junsheng would look after his great niece, give her a better death
than she could otherwise expect. After all, Fourth Great-Uncle had been dead
for a long while when Siew Tsin came to the underworld. In his lifetime women
had had lower expectations. His sister, Siew Tsin's grandmother, had been named
Chiu Dai: come, little brother .
Siew Tsin had lived in a more modern time. Her parents had
wanted her to be happy as well as docile. Resignation to unhappiness didn't
come naturally—she had to learn it.
Three months after her wedding, Siew Tsin had run away from
Junsheng. She had still had the loved child's belief that it would not be
allowed for anything too bad to happen to her. Her plan had been that she would
tell a god or kindly functionary what had happened to her and they would
somehow restore her to her parents. Perhaps they could arrange for her parents
to be blessed with a child in their old age, like Elizabeth in the Bible. The
child would of course be their dead daughter, come to them again.
She was not a hundred paces from Junsheng's house when she
found the functionary she had been looking for. A fairy from heaven in shining
silk robes, standing discontentedly by the entrance of a grand house. A
fragrance of sunshine and fresh air billowed from her, cutting through the
smell of sulphur and stone. The crowd of spirits and demons that filled the
streets left a wide space around her.
A visitation from the Heavenly Court was so unusual that it
could be nothing but a good omen. Siew Tsin plunged through the crowd towards
the fairy.
When Siew Tsin had explained her situation, she said:
"Can you help me, elder sister? My mother and father
live in Klang. Perhaps it is not on your way to heaven."
The fairy had looked on her with compassion.
"It is not, but that is of no account," she said.
"I will see that you are looked after."
Half an hour later Siew Tsin was bundled into a sedan chair
by four stern hell officials and whisked back to Junsheng's. It appeared the
fairy's understanding of what it meant to be looked after was the same as
Fourth Great-Uncle's.
Junsheng had not been unkind. He had been
and the hell officials who facilitated their moral rehabilitation, using
whatever tools were available to them—fire, chains, whips, spears and
hammers for choice. Such work made demons short-tempered and violent in their
integrity. What it did to the spirits did not bear thinking about.
The tenth court was for souls who had worked off all their
sins, or who had not had sins worth speaking of, or who'd simply had a grand
enough funeral—and hence, sufficient hell money—to buy their way
out of the torments. It was a waiting room, where spirits waited for their new
lives to be prepared for them. This meant that it was a considerably more
tranquil place to be dead than every other court of hell. The demons, grown
soft from lack of exercise, were as pleasure-seeking and corrupt as any human
official.
Peace and stability meant the development of a society. The
tenth court was where souls could enjoy the hard-earned fruits of their deaths:
the mansions their descendants had burnt for them, the incense that floated
down from the living world straight into their grateful nostrils. If a spirit
was rich, or powerful, or simply intelligent, he could manage it so he went on
residing in the tenth court for a long time, avoiding the invitation to tea
with Lady Meng that heralded the change to the next life.
Junsheng had been a rich man in life. He had left many
children and grandchildren to tend his grave and burn him gifts year after
year, so that the condition had persisted after death. When Siew Tsin met him
he had been dead for twenty years. This was a long time to have evaded the loss
of self entailed by reincarnation, even taking into account the inefficiency of
hellish bureaucracy.
Fourth Great-Uncle must have meant well. He must have
thought that Junsheng would look after his great niece, give her a better death
than she could otherwise expect. After all, Fourth Great-Uncle had been dead
for a long while when Siew Tsin came to the underworld. In his lifetime women
had had lower expectations. His sister, Siew Tsin's grandmother, had been named
Chiu Dai: come, little brother .
Siew Tsin had lived in a more modern time. Her parents had
wanted her to be happy as well as docile. Resignation to unhappiness didn't
come naturally—she had to learn it.
Three months after her wedding, Siew Tsin had run away from
Junsheng. She had still had the loved child's belief that it would not be
allowed for anything too bad to happen to her. Her plan had been that she would
tell a god or kindly functionary what had happened to her and they would
somehow restore her to her parents. Perhaps they could arrange for her parents
to be blessed with a child in their old age, like Elizabeth in the Bible. The
child would of course be their dead daughter, come to them again.
She was not a hundred paces from Junsheng's house when she
found the functionary she had been looking for. A fairy from heaven in shining
silk robes, standing discontentedly by the entrance of a grand house. A
fragrance of sunshine and fresh air billowed from her, cutting through the
smell of sulphur and stone. The crowd of spirits and demons that filled the
streets left a wide space around her.
A visitation from the Heavenly Court was so unusual that it
could be nothing but a good omen. Siew Tsin plunged through the crowd towards
the fairy.
When Siew Tsin had explained her situation, she said:
"Can you help me, elder sister? My mother and father
live in Klang. Perhaps it is not on your way to heaven."
The fairy had looked on her with compassion.
"It is not, but that is of no account," she said.
"I will see that you are looked after."
Half an hour later Siew Tsin was bundled into a sedan chair
by four stern hell officials and whisked back to Junsheng's. It appeared the
fairy's understanding of what it meant to be looked after was the same as
Fourth Great-Uncle's.
Junsheng had not been unkind. He had been
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