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There was a man at the grand gate of Paradise Manor, plainly visible through the wrought iron bars that composed the body of the gate and were fashioned after a butterfly. No sane person would have dared to loiter near the gate, even when it was closed, not for any amount of time.
The man had the balls to hold a donkey on a string, the animal boredly pondering the sparse grass on the side of the road. The donkey was a short-legged, stocky female, her coat creamy with brown spots, the shapes of which were partially obscured by packs and bags secured to her broad back. One of her long ears was adorned with a tag in vivid blue and red proclaiming her a postal service beast of burden.
Which meant that the dolt in dusty white robes patched up here and there with equally undyed fabric was a postman. He stroked the donkey’s shoulder as if to soothe her, his brown hair falling over his own shoulder when the animal shifted and stepped on his foot, causing him to bend down in sudden pain and try to pry his foot from under the hoof. The donkey appeared uninterested in his plight.
Yin Yu, observing this from the convenient porch located to far left of the main entrance to the manor, where he remained unseen for now, took a sip of his morning tea, black and bound to wake him up for a day of wrangling a whole city of ghosts and demons.
He wasn’t paid nearly enough.
The post man managed to free his abused limb and swayed it in the air as if to relieve some of the pain he for sure was feeling. Yin Yu raised a brow when the man turned back to look at the front garden of the manor and the entrance, squinting at the name plaque. Yin Yu probably should feel sympathy for the poor sod, especially when his face went through a journey of confusion, despair and horror. He knew the look, one that told the Waning Moon Officer this post office worker was quite new to the city and he’d had no time to get used to the calligraphy of the city lord. It was always an experience to lay eyes upon the demonic madness Hua Cheng’s brush created across any surface he wished to mark with his letters, but Yin Yu had developed a sort of mental barrier to secure his sanity. Otherwise he’d have poked his eyes out decades ago, after seeing the first samples of Chengzhu’s paperwork.
To the postman’s credit it took him only a handful of minutes to gather his wits. After shaking his head he went and did something unthinkable.
He fastened the end of the donkey’s lead to a bar of the gate. Yin Yu almost dropped his favourite teacup.
The absolute airhead went to dig around in a bag on the donkey’s flank, unaware of the bewildered stare of the famous Waning Moon Officer glued to his back.
A donkey.
Tethered to the front gate of Paradise Manor.
The main residence of the city lord.
The most infamous ghost king.
A calamity like no other.
“Aha,” cheered the postman while pulling a package out of the bag, not at all concerned - or aware - of Yin Yu being in the middle of a… An experience involving feeling his sense of what was real and what was not getting dislodged from his person via a place unknown.
A donkey.
Who, for her credit, gave the postman a look that indicated at least she was aware how surreal this whole morning was. The dolt, who grinned at her and at the ominous manor gate, patted her neck and flounced towards where a small section of the gate formed a doorway, so a person could pass through without having to open the whole thing.
The esteemed citizenry of the Ghost City called it the Moon Gate, because despite being shaped nothing like a regular moon gate it was what Yin Yu most often used to enter or leave the manor grounds. It had no lock because no one would have dared to sneak in. It had a plaque with a small array carved into it, working as a sort of a summoning spell. A person had to touch it to alert the officer that there was someone waiting at the gate. Its use required a bit of spiritual energy to be passed into it to make it work, but it was such a miniscule amount that even the weakest of ghosts could have used it.
Could have, because most weak ghosts in the city kept clear not only from the gate as a whole, but also the entire street.
Instructions for the array were plainly carved into the plaque itself right under the array.
When the postman tapped the plaque Yin Yu, who was in the middle of setting his cup to the wooden table at which he’d been sitting, felt as if he’d been punched straight in the face.
“Crap” he gasped and whirled on his feet to look back at the strange man. Yup, he was still there, as plain and airheaded as before. Holding a package to his chest and tracing a line with his eyes between the Moon Gate and the manor door.
Smiling this specific clueless, benevolent smile that was somewhat familiar, even if Yin Yu couldn’t place why. It wasn’t the painfully fake customer service smile of the working class people facing those of higher status. Nor was it the overly excited grin of those expecting to gain something from meeting Hua Cheng or even Yin Yu himself.
No, it was just… Casual. Content. Catastrophically clueless. Doomed to piss Chengzhu off.
The postman reached a hand to poke the array again and this little motion made Yin Yu jump forward. Whatever shit was going on, he wasn’t about to let the airhead use the plaque again. The ache from the previous attempt was still lingering in his spiritual veins.
Luckily, the man spotted him and pulled his fingers away from the array. Beguiling eyes of brown so light that it appeared amber lit up at the approaching Waning Moon Officer, almost giving him pause. What kind of person would smile like this upon seeing the right-hand-man of the city lord all but sprinting towards them?
“Good day, master Chengzhu,” the postman greeted politely.
A brainless one. The answer to the above question was - a brainless one. Yin Yu almost faceplanted on the stone path from shock.
“I’m not the city lord,” he stated, mind reeling from this colossal case of mistaken identity. How could this absolute dumbass take him for Hua Cheng? He glanced at the ass as if to ask her ‘Is he for real?’
The donkey didn’t comment.
“Oh,” the stupid half of the duo at the other side of the gate scratched his cheek, looking awkward. “Sorry. I’m new around here and I guess I assumed. I mean,” he glanced down to the item in his hand, then back at Yin Yu, who was definitely needing a raise. “I have a package for one Hua Cheng, Chengzhu of Ghost City, residing at Paradise Manor. This is here, right?” he added the last part uncertainly, casting a glance towards the plaque over the main door of the manor.
Yin Yu, who at that time, had gotten himself mostly out of the shock of past few sentences out of the postman’s mouth, was only able to gape at the fool. Sadly, the mask hid his expression from the world.
‘One’ Hua Cheng.
‘One.’
As if there could have been more of Crimson Rain roaming the realms.
Waning Moon Officer banished the thought faster than Jun Wu had banished him after the Brocade Immortal debacle.
“Yes, this is the right place,” he nodded, deciding to hold onto the things he knew and understood and not ask the postman how he tied his shoes all by himself. “Lord Hua Cheng is busy right now. I am Waning Moon Officer, his assistant,” he added and gestured to the pack. “I can take this to him.”
The man gave a polite bow of his head, different from fearful or deferential bows most other citizens gave him these days.
“I’m afraid this is marked as for his hands alone,” he said, biting at his bottom lip. “I need to get his signature on the form.”
He looked at Yin Yu apologetically. As if refusing his offer to take the package would somehow hurt his feelings, like the officer would have yelled at him for not handing it over.
Baffled that any person wished to actually deal with Hua Cheng while they had been offered an out, the banished god sighed. He could insist, sure, he could get suspicious of his intentions or the pack itself, but frankly, he wasn’t paid enough.
Whatever was the postman’s angle, Hua Cheng could deal with picking up his own delivery for once. If it turned out to be an assassination attempt, or an attempt to get some favors, or just a clueless dolt trying to follow his job description to the letter, Hua Cheng could handle that. He could, for once, interact with a citizen.
Yin Yu was about to learn that, in fact, Hua Cheng was not able to interact with this specific citizen in approximately six minutes and thirteen seconds.
Because it was how long it took to contact his employer via the communication array and get him to agree to grace his front yard with his presence. Luckily for the postman - or unluckily, depending on one’s definition of ‘luck’ - Hua Cheng was a truly bored ghost king this fine morning and it actually worked. When he was in ‘the zone’ or moping he was prone to tell Yin Yu to get lost and stay where he was.
Today, it seemed, Hua Cheng was in a light, mischievous mood, so his appearance a few steps away from where Yin Yu stood was accompanied with a few crimson raindrops falling here and there. Not enough to actually be called a rain or even a drizzle, just a playful suggestion that the ghost king could make it a downpour.
And then his boss was there, resplendent in his red robes, silver jewelry shining, handsome face schooled in an expression of casual boredom, dark eye glinting with what some described as malicious intent and Yin Yu had the dubious privilege of knowing as curiosity.
To be honest Yin Yu expected the postman to miss the appearance of the city lord, but to his surprise the man immediately stopped looking at a pinkish spot on his sleeve from a drop of blood and locked his serene golden gaze on the apex predator in his vicinity. The donkey at his side actually shifted on her hooves to be as far from her companion as it was possible with her lead still attached to the gate.
Hua Cheng literally froze. Honest to gods in the heavens froze. Yin Yu blinked at his boss simply standing there, eye round and big like a mooncake, lips parted on the beginning of a witty remark, hand stuck in the opposite sleeve to put away his dice.
“Um, good morning,” the postman bowed pleasantly, as if he wasn’t being stared at by the Red Calamity. “I have a package for you… Hua Cheng, right?”
Hua Cheng said nothing. Very wittilly.
“There was a sudden unexpected spray of blood drops, but I managed to cover it with my sleeve, so it’s all pristine and undamaged,” the postman continued.
Hua Cheng said nothing, remarking on the weather events in the city in no manner of communication known to Yin Yu.
Who, bewildered and mildly concerned for his employer, glanced between the petrified ghost and the postman getting anxious at the lack of response.
“Could you sign off on it, please?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot. “I need to get moving, my supervisor told me to finish this section of the city before noon,” he jiggled the package in the manner of someone itching to hand it over. He probably needed to fish for signature forms in one of his bags.
The motion drew the attention of the ghost king to the little pinkish spot on his otherwise white robe.
“Oh, god,” Hua Cheng gasped. Gasped.
Yin Yu, who was the only god in the neighbourhood, tilted his head.
Hua Cheng, finally reanimated, tossed his way a glance which clearly said ‘not you’, then stepped forward and reached through the Moon Gate bars to carefully pluck the package out of the postman’s hands. The movement was so reverent that it didn’t even matter when he almost dropped the thing when it awkwardly bumped against the iron bars, barely fitting in the narrow space between the two of them.
“Apologies for ruining your robe,” he breathed out.
“It’s fine, it will wash out or not,” the brown-haired man shrugged as if being under any amount of Hua Cheng’s famous blood rain was not a big deal. Yin Yu had seen what that rain could do.
The postman, who was unfairly not weirded out by all Hua Cheng’s shit, produced a small plank of wood with a piece of paper stuck to it. And a stick of coal wrapped in a strip of fabric. As if it was normal. As if the ghost king cradling the package to his broad chest like a long lost artifact of his homeland was normal. Like he couldn’t see the frankly way too intense focus of the lone black eye locked onto his every movement, every expression. Yin Yu had goosebumps all over his body from merely witnessing this amount of Hua Cheng’s attention and he wasn’t even the subject of it.
He truly, really, desperately needed a raise.
And a cup of black tea. Bitter and oversteeped, just like Yizhen used to make it for him every morning.
In the following days Yin Yu would also add that he wished to lay down for a century or two. Preferably under Mt. Kunlun, far West from the absolute shitfest that unfolded in the wake of this particular package delivery.
For now, in that moment, he was still unaware of that future wish, observing mutely how his employer used the stick of charcoal to scratch his name in a marginally less cursed script than usual. It almost didn’t give indigestion to any and all who laid eyes upon its wonder.
“San Lang?” The postman glanced at the form, winced at the signature like he wished to set the paper on fire for bearing such an unsettling mark of calligraphy sin, then blinked up at Hua Cheng as if to ask for explanation. A fetching dusting of pink spread over the bridge of his nose and cheeks at the familiar address.
Hua Cheng smiled. Not his ‘I’m going to kill you and enjoy it’ one. Nor the ‘I’m going to kill you and it’s frankly a chore I wish I could push on someone else, but alas, I can’t’. Nor was it ‘I’m counting to five and then I’m going to kill you. Run’ one.
No, he smiled.
Like a normal person.
Yin Yu wouldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t standing right next to the man.
Actually, he needed to blink a few times just to make sure he hadn’t spontaneously fallen asleep and dreamed that.
“I‘d prefer if gege called me San Lang,” Hua Cheng murmured like a particularly powerful cat eyeing a choice piece of fish.
For your knowledge, dear readers, Yin Yu did not, in fact, squawk ‘gege’ at that moment. Neither did he faint from shock. No, he was built from a more restrained and more sturdy stock.
He fainted at the postman introducing himself as Xie Lian though.