During the metropolitan exams of an imperial examination1 of the Yongzheng2 Emperor’s reign, a young man with the surname of Tang had a female ghost with dishevelled hair breaking in his booth in the middle of the night.
She tore his examination paper into pieces that flew all over the place like butterflies.
Tang, a man of righteousness and courage, maintained his cool.
“Whatever happened in my previous life is unknown to me,” he sat straight and said. “I have never done any harm in this life as far as I know. Why did you mess with me then?”
The ghost looked quite confused. “Are you not number 47?” She asked.
“I’m number 49,” Tang said.
It turned out that the ghost skipped two vacant booths and miscounted.
She stared at Tang for a while, and sincerely apologized before she left.
A moment later, an eerie shriek came from the number 47 booth. Later it was announced that the person was bewitched and suffered from sudden illness.
–From Ji Yun’s Notes of the Thatched Abode of Close Observations (The Qing Dynasty)
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1. Metropolitan is the second of the three major levels the Ming dynasty’s and the Qing dynasty’s imperial examination used to select government officials.
2. The Yongzheng Emperor (12-13-1678 – 10-8-1735) was the fifth emperor of the Qing dynasty.
Literally the character 梗 means stem. Its meaning similar to “meme” perhaps came from the misuse for another character, “哏”（gén）, which loosely means jokes in traditional Chinese comedy form 相声, similar to stand-up comedy.
Best of times it is! In my pod, I clench my coin tightly against my chest, letting my heart beating to its climax with the seemingly unending vibration.
I stand up, leave the indoor plaza owned by my soon-to-be former employer, Glory Moths, bathing in the envious stares of my soon-to-be former coworkers who take this opportunity to emerge above the horizon of their pods.
As I step out of the plaza, I am greeted by all eyes under the sky. Not many at this time of the day. That’s normal. I have never seen the sky at this time of a workday. Which is, according to the latest update, every day of the week until the annual PTO days. Mine have accrued to four after fifteen years of service. My manager said she wished she would have achieved so when she was my age. Twenty seven that is. Still a couple of centuries to go if I am lucky. Oh yeah, I am more than that now.
My face appears on the screens spreading varying width and heights of buildings at the crossroads. The biggest crossroads in town. A small city in this district. A small district on the greatest planet orbiting that lucky star that used to be called the sun.
Still, humans rule. By rules.
Led by two administrators in kangaroo armors, I walk toward a space car designated exclusively to me. One foot at a time but don’t look, I remind myself, keeping my cool, as if it’s not the first time I, or anybody from this district has ever been picked. My luck is beyond luck.
Unlike the space bus I ride for my PTO every year, the space car offers no sense of movement or time lapse.
No time to enjoy the soft full body seat or the expected awkward moment facing the administrators for longer than a split second, I have reached my destination, the Stage.
It’s a pure gold coin of the size of my work floor in the plaza, floating above all. Smooth and static.
I step onto it, taking a leap of faith that I would not slip and fall on its glossy and spotless surface.
All good. Like a tiny monkey walking on a giant palm, I even hop along for a couple of steps like when I was still a pre-career child in the community park of my hatchery at the age of five. The touching of the Stage reminds me of the softness of the grass there. They say it’s partially real grass.
The administrators step ahead of me to lead me to the correct spot to accept my Award.
My coin, warm in my right hand, gets a bit wet from my sweat. I just hope that I don’t look too nervous on the screens facing everyone as I experience the most significant moment in my life.
The administrators take off their kangaroo helmet, revealing their identical blonde hair. I can’t tell if they are pure humans. That level of blonde is close to none in a place like my plaza.
“Congratulations!” A voice coming from the sky puts my random thoughts to the rest. “I hereby announce, on behalf of the Committee and Board of Holy Earth the winner of this decade’s Award is: Jane2222263, for her honorable contribution in the process of untangling paper clips before her shift, which increased marvelously the efficiency for her floor by 0.22%. Jane2222263 beat all the odds, on top of her remarkable performance, has won the Lottery of the Award! She is now officially retired! Keep it up! It could be anyone!”
My coin turns gold in my trembling hands. There it is! It’s really happening! I’m one of the Sky Members now! No more work, no more blood bills! I beat all the odds and won the Lottery. Everyone in every town of every district works hard on the small things hoping to be picked, but I am the one who’s won! It really pays off! I’ve seen a couple of other winners on the screen, but winning it myself is what makes it real, our world, our planet.
“Now,” the voice says. “Is the not as thrilling part of the Event, the other side of the coin that is, however, equally important to our civilization. Behold, the winner of the Justice of the decade is—oh mine, what’s the odds? Also Jane2222263! For leaving the power of the work screen on during sleep shift in the working pod, four times during the past quarter, Jane222263 has wasted unnecessary energy by 0.08%! Since she beat all the odds and has been picked by the Flip Lottery, I hereby announce that she shall be sentenced to death!”
My vision is blurry with burning black edges and kangaroo-shaped sparkles. The voice sounds far away in the sense of both time and space. I drop my coin as I collapse to the coldness of the Stage. I scream, but hear nothing.
“I beg your pardon?” The voice suddenly says. The lightning- shaped laser from the Sky hasn’t struck yet. I can still hear the voice. “Oh okay. That makes sense.” The voice then clears up itself and continues, “Considering the rare, I mean truly rare situation that Jane222263 has been picked for both the Award and the Justice, I hereby declare them offset each other. Jane222263, you shall return to your pod. Keep it up, everyone, see you next decade!”
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” The hiring manager asked, laying the last straw on Sam’s back. He could barely breathe, and the whole interview started flashing before his eyes:
First, there was “First of all, tell me about yourself,” which Sam could at least understand. He learnt from one of the videos on YouTube that it was a way the employer was able to see your presentation ability. The rest of video, in his memory, was nonexistent except that he did remember he was supposed to focus on his professional life instead of his personal life.
Sam then smiled in a professional way and started answering: “I hate my boss because he is an Alliance and I’m a Horde and I’m pretty sure that’s why I didn’t get promoted this time. People in my department think I am good at my job because they’re not very smart and I’m overqualified. That’s why I started stealing clients’ information and selling it. I consider it the bonus incentive I deserve in the first place. It’s not like it’s something too private, you know, just phone numbers and stuff. People get scam calls all the time and if they are stupid enough to fall for that it’s not my problem.”
What Sam heard while speaking was, however, only him presenting his work background, starting with his current role, followed by his previous position at different organization, followed by the one before that, exactly as the YouTube video taught him. The one and only problem in his answer as far as he saw it was that he realized the time was probably almost up, so he quickly mentioned his field of study in college to show consistency, and at last expressed his expectations to work with one of the best in the industry, aka the company he was sitting at right at the moment, which, in the hiring manager’s ears was turned into this:
“My major is a joke but I got this fake certificate to show that I have minor in a more useful field and since I graduated from that school anyways nobody doubted it. The company I work for is also a joke so I want to find some place that deserves me more. Your company is pretty big so I figured it might be less a joke. Hopefully the whole background check thing doesn’t go back that far. But I’ve got relevant experience now so I think I’m gonna be fine.”
The hiring manager seemed really intrigued by Sam’s answer. Sam felt flattered, and expected some follow up questions. But the hiring manager simply moved on to the next question with a professional smile on his face:
“Can you tell me about your previous work experience?”
Sam said to himself, “What the fuck? I just told you!” Then he told himself that maybe they just wanted more details. He then explained the size and specialties of each of his previous companies, followed by explanation of his positions, duties, and achievements, but what the hiring manager heard was again different:
“What the fuck?! In just told you! Fine, you want more details. Let’s see, where should I start? All the places I worked at are small and most of them only got smaller through the years. I was only sort of fired once because they didn’t like the way I compliment this executive assistant they hired for my old boss. Assistant my ass! More like ‘ass-istant’. I heard that they were doing it probably back door style in the bathroom after hours. All I did was telling her that red skirt made her butt look great in the internal chatting system and that bitch reported to HR. I figured my old boss was afraid that I would tell. So dumb. Good that I threatened him afterwards with success and got a good recommendation letter and shut the HR up. I still had to leave that place but at least my boss now has no idea I was fired and was so impressed with my recommendation letter.”
The hiring manager looked even more intrigued, but still did not follow up, only moving on to the next.
“What are your biggest strengths?” The hiring manager asked, “And what are your biggest weaknesses?”
Sam cussed to himself again. As much as he expected these two specific questions, he did not expect to get cliche questions third time in a row, two at the same time. He answered with his rehearsed words in the most natural way he could, begging for the interview to take a more creative turn.
It didn’t.
From the hiring manager’s perspective, Sam gave an excellent presentation about his strengths of faking sickness, taking credit from those who “didn’t deserve it,” and getting the job done as quickly as possible but reporting later to “enjoy some free time” as well as his weakness of “not caring about teamwork at all” and “lack of empathy.” The new interview room made his own job ten times better. He wasn’t told how it worked, but it worked well so far: the more sincere the questions he asked were, the more honest the candidates’ answers would be. But the candidates themselves were not able to hear their “honest” answers. To them, it would just be a normal interview.
Amusing as the interview was in the interviewer’s eyes, it was no doubt a torture to Sam, who finally collected himself from the flashbacks of the interview and answered the question about his five year plan.
“I’m a bit tired of working so I started buying lottery tickets once a week and hopefully I can win some millions in the next five years so I can retire. I also lied on LinkedIn about my age by altering my gratification year. So I will be 35 in five years. That’s old. You know what else I’m tired of? Pretending that I have a five year plan. Who fucking does that? I could be dead or married or something. You just can’t plan shit like that. I’m also tired of my career because I don’t have one. Only job after job I don’t like or care about and I have to pretend that I have a passion for this. So go fuck yourself with your five year plan and see how much that hurts!”
The hiring manager seemed touched by his answer and even nodded a bit, though more like a bobble-head way of involuntary nodding. He then asked a question off the script without thinking, simply out of years of habit as a hiring manager:
“Do you have any questions for us?”
Excited that it was finally over, Sam showed extra enthusiasm in his question regarding the company’s management style and advancement opportunities, which were actually what he wanted to know for real, though he did want the job a lot more when he prepared the question:
“What’s the management style like here? I really hope you guys are professional and don’t act like you are right up to my ass all the time. Also, what kind of advancement opportunities do you have? Will I ever get promoted if I do my job good or I have to kiss ass like literally or something worse?”
“Ideally, the only way you get hired is that all the other candidates are even worse. Believe me l, we’ve seen a lot. But since they already offered it to someone internally, unless that sucker dies or declines it, you don’t stand a chance. To answer your question, the direct supervisor for the position loves micromanaging and is the king of manipulation,” the hiring manager said. “but he always gets to squeeze the numbers out pretty good by making everyone miserable, so his boss will keep him until he finds someone better.”
Stunned, Sam said nothing, staring at the hiring who was supposed to have been crafted with cliches by gods based on his knowledge so far.
“Opportunities for advancement are basically a joke since most people on your level quit before their first anniversary. But if you have real tough and thick skin, you might stand a chance to get a better looking title, more responsibility, and about twenty cents per hour raise,” the hiring manager kept on in delight.
Still confused, Sam managed to cooperate in wrapping the interview up with a handshake as professionally as he could before he politely walked out of the room, jumped into the elevator, trotted through the lobby, dashed out of the door, dived into his car, and flew away.
The good thing was that the interviews were recorded and the bug of the amazing new interview room soon got fixed. It didn’t matter to Sam. He was so happy that he never heard back from that place ever since.
With Qingming Festival (tomb sweeping day) around the corner, I’d like to share this original story about one of the common practices during Qingming:
There would be an extended hold on my cash deposit. I wasn’t happy with it.
“Is it because my death certificate is expiring? I’m getting my renewed one on Thursday,” I asked. The teller didn’t look happy either. Her crystal ball got smashed last Tuesday and the bank still had not sent her a new one.
She still gave me a smile that was only slightly colder than usual.
“No. Not that. It’s actually for your protection, as inconvenient as it is,” she said, handing me the receipt. “The exchange rate is fluctuating too much. The bank will pick the best rate during the hold time period to minimize your loss.”
I glared at my receipt and saw something new: “Spirit Amount Deposited: $100,000.00; USD Amount Deposited: $50.00; Spirit Amount Available: $0.00; USD Amount Available: $0.00; Hold Time: 7 Earth Days.”
I did’t understand.
“Is it because of the inflation? The gas price soar?” I vaguely recalled that our currency should not be affected by all that.
The teller shook her head.
“I wish it’s that simple, Mr. Xu,” she pressed something on her keyboard. “I will just be honest with you on this one. The bank now has to link the value of your funds with the LOGS of the person who sent you the money, especially if it’s sent through the cash burning system.”
Man, I hated acronyms!
“What’s logs?”
“Sorry. I should have explained it. It’s just that it’s still a working process of naming this so it doesn’t stand for anything official,” she lowered her voice. “It’s L, O, G, S: Level of Giving a Shit.”
Oh I see…
“So I assume since it’s been five years, my family’s level of giving a shit about me has experienced a significant decline,” I said. No surprise to me. A bit annoying to actually think about it and say it out loud. “Then what difference will 7 days make? Will their logs change dramatically during 7 days after all these years?”
She nodded, reminding me of my elementary school teacher when I answered a question right. Man, that was so long ago I lost count.
“Yep! Normally during the following week, sometimes longer, the sender might experience stronger feelings towards their late relatives, particularly if they wish to be blessed.”
That actually made a lot of sense. I did get summoned in their dreams a lot more often during the Ghost Month of the year. Those heartless useless brats!
“You can now monitor the exchange rate and corresponding value of your deposit using online banking or our mobile app.”
That’s actually pretty nice. I thanked her for all the information and helping me set up that online thing about a year ago. It was funny that they had been trying for years when I was alive. Persistence could be rewarding.
As I walked out of the bank, a stack of ghost money appeared in my hands. Meanwhile, I heard my 59 year old son crying for my blessing in his job hunting.
I shook my head and headed towards the ATM.
What could his dead old man do to help him land a job in the living world? Perhaps if his LOGS went high enough, I could use that to pull some strings once the funds cleared.
Minister of War, Mr. Wang1 in Xincheng2 had a head butler who was quite well-off.
One night, in the butler’s dream, a man ran to him and said, “You owe me 40,000 qian3 and now it’s the time to pay me back.” The butler tried to ask for more information, but the man said nothing more and disappeared.
After he woke up, he learned that his wife had just given birth to a baby boy. He couldn’t help but wonder if the baby was the same man from his dream. If so, the man might have come to collect his money.
The butler set aside 40,000 qian in a designated room and ordered that from then on, everything the family needed for the boy had to be purchased with money from the specific stash.
When the boy was about 3 or 4 years old, there were only 700 qian left.
One day, the nanny took the boy over to the butler so he could play with the kid. The butler said to his son, “That 40,000 is almost gone. I guess this is about as far as it goes.”
The boy all of the sudden put on a totally different face and jerked his head back, eyes wide open. The nanny and the butler checked on him immediately, only to find him dead.
What’s left of the money turned out to be the exact amount needed for the boy’s funeral.
Long time ago, some heirless old man asked a highly respected monk how he ended up childless. The monk said to him: “You don’t owe anyone, and no one owes you anything. How can you have kids then?” According to the monk, if you have good children, they are here to pay you back for something nice you have done for them; if you have one that brings you tons of headaches, it’s because you owed them in the past life, and you need to pay them back. In summary, don’t get too excited about having children in your life. On the other hand, if you lose them, don’t get overly sad, either.
–From Pu Songling’s Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio (The Qing Dynasty)
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1. Wang Xiangqian, a real minister in the Ming Dynasty.
2. Old name for a town in Shandong province.
3. An ancient Chinese currency unit in the form of a copper coin with a square hole. 1000 is one Guan.
It took me a while to find the perfect doll. The second I laid my eyes on the blurry picture of her eBay listing, I knew she was the one. The perfect haunted doll I’d been looking for.
Bidding at $555. 25 bids. 30 seconds left. I waited till the last 10 seconds and bagged her at the cost of $999.99, beating all the crazy losers pursuing an overpriced humanoid supposedly possessed by a human spirit. So much for the limit on my credit card. That’s a problem I wouldn’t have to worry about for a while.
She arrived three days later than the estimated delivery date. Thrilled to see it on the front porch after my second job, I took off my name tag and threw it on the tall grass in my front yard. I kicked off my shoes, escaped from the prison of my work uniform, and reached for my blade hidden beneath my bloomers. Was that blood on the inside of the left flap of the box? Right on!
I slit the rest of the tapes open and finally met her. Craftsmanship! People don’t care about it as often nowadays. Although the doll was only made of resin, the level of attention to detail resonated with me as some old memories rose from somewhere deep inside me.
She stared at me as if she was the one who had just opened up a new package, not me. I was wondering what kind of spirit, if any, sat behind the pair of glass balls glistening against my flickering hallway lights. Time to change the lightbulbs. Like I gave a shit.
I set her on my nightstand before bed and fell asleep like a legit baby. All the overtime went unpaid and days off wasted thanks to those idiots’ no-call-no-shows drained me faster than any vampire or whatever blood-sucking creatures I’d ever heard of. Time for a rest.
Before I lost consciousness, I saw the doll’s innocent smile twitch into a mischievous smirk.
I woke up standing, faced with the wine glass I put down on my nightstand the night before. I lifted my arm and the whole room brightened up as I saw the delicate resin hand attached to my wrist by a ball joint. I was free. In my new body.
As to whatever that took that floppy flesh vessel, good luck with that.
I wanted to do so many things. First, I closed my eyes for a long overdue nap.
Today I want to share a sad story from Ban Bao’s In Search of the Supernatural , which will probably appear in my next book:
In the Jin dynasty1, a man in Wuxing, Zhejiang Province had two sons. Whenever they worked in the field, the two young men often saw their dad come to yell at them. He sometimes even smacked them and shooed them away.
The sons at last told their mother, who later asked the father about it. The father was shocked. Knowing it wasn’t him, he wondered if some kind of monster took his form. He told his sons if the fake father showed himself again, they shall hit it with an axe.
Ever since then, the thing stopped showing up. One day, the father, worried that his sons would be bewildered by the evil monster, went to the field to check on them. The sons, mistaking him for the imposter, attacked and killed him. They then buried the body and went home.
The imposter later went to their home in the father’s form and told the family that his boys had already taken care of the evil monster. When the sons returned, the whole family celebrated.
Years had passed without anyone noticing anything unusual.
One day, a sorcerer travelled by the family and told the two young men that he noticed the father had strong evil vibes around him.
The sons went to tell the father, who got outrageous. The sons then came out to warn the sorcerer and told him to leave. Instead, the sorcerer entered the house while casting some spells.
The father instantly transformed into an old fox. The fox went under the bed but still got caught and killed.
The brothers then realized that the one they’d killed in the field was their real father.
They reburied their father and gave him a proper funeral.
Soon after that, one of the sons killed himself. The other, suffering from regret and anger, also passed away before long.
–From Gan Bao’s In Search of the Supernatural (The Jin Dynasty)
1. The Jin Dynasty (266–420). It’s a little strange for the author to refer to their own dynasty in this way. Perhaps this story was said to have happened in the Western Jin (266-316) whereas Gan Bao (315-336) lived in the Eastern Jin.
p.s. For more translated ancient Chinese strange tales or zhiguai stories, please check out my book: Head Flyer and 100 More Ancient Chinese Strange Stories, which is free for Kindle Unlimited members. For non members, you can still get a free sample which contains 11 stories.
Nine Tailed Cat Studio 