Ghost Cloak

Author: Xi Lingxue
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-09-01
Features: The wardrobe's former owner was called Ruomei Ying, a renowned Peking opera actress from the 1930s and 1940s, the leading in "Qunying Hui." She had performed on stage alongside Gai Jiaotian and Mei Lanfang, becoming famous in both Beijing and Shanghai. Her performances were so sought after that the gratuity offered by wealthy families for her to perform at their private gatherings was equivalent to half a year's living expenses for a family of three. After the liberation, she fell into obscurity. Some said she followed a Guangdong warlord, while others claimed she was detained by the government for smoking opium. She later died during the Cultural Revolution, allegedly by jumping off a building, though the details remain unknown. The lives of actors are always shrouded in mystery, both on and off stage, especially in those ambiguous times. Who would care? However, during idle moments after meals, her story became a piece of gossip to pass the time, and over time, it lost its true form. The incense was lit, and the wardrobe was placed on the altar. The accountant grandmother circled it three times, murmuring prayers, while the elderly artists joined in unison: "Go on, go on, there's no place for you here. Leave, leave, this isn't your place." Sitting in the corner, the blind musician Hu Bo played the erhu intermittently, with one string tied to his throat, unable to remove it or swallow. The door was open, and the humid wind swept in, yet it brought no relief. The room was crowded, making it even more stifling. Xiao Wan grew impatient and muttered softly, "Ugly people always make a fuss. Can this even be considered music?" The accountant grandmother hissed, "This is a soul-lit incense to console the spirits. Don't talk nonsense, little one. Today is the Ghost Festival; be careful you don't invite misfortune." She frowned at the door and muttered, "Strange, it rarely rains on the 14th of the seventh month like this. The gloom makes one feel ill at ease." In truth, Xiao Wan had already turned nineteen and was no longer a child. However, since all three generations of her family had worked in the troupe, the aunts and uncles had grown up watching her and always treated her like a niece or grandchild, speaking to her as if she were a child, mixing affection with intimidation. Xiao Wan felt helpless about this "disrespectful" intimidation, which was almost an insult to her age and intelligence. Yet, besides silence, it seemed there was no other way to protest. After all, these were the uncles and aunts who had always teased her as a "tomboy" since she was a child, how could she seriously argue with them? Sometimes, when they felt like it, they would even bring up embarrassing stories about her wearing diapers, which was truly humiliating. She had thought about changing jobs, but her university major was fashion design. Unless she became famous overnight and started her own design company, where else could she find a more comfortable job than the costume department of a theater troupe? At least it was a cultural organization. Besides, her obsession with costumes had been with her since childhood. Designing costumes for historical figures in real life was a romantic and challenging task—almost not work, but a game, an enjoyment, an entertainment. As such, she could only endure the old, unoriginal jokes like "immortal, tiger, dog" that her aunts and uncles often used to scare her. The clouds hung thickly, as if a storm was about to break, creating an unspoken sense of urgency. Everyone fell silent. The room was filled with dragons, phoenixes, and other costumes, all heavy with silence.