His home was little more than a simple apartment hovel, cheaply built and secreted in one of the poorer parts of Shanghai - far from the eyes of tourists and the eccentric white bohemians. The more well-hidden my people are, the better apparently, at least according to the British and French occupants. The apartment was littered all around with luck-bringing accoutrements, charms and various paper slips wishing good fortune. Well, I could hardly expect anything less from an astrologer for festival season... Outside of the apartment, a lanky Siamese yowled as it ran across the metal railings and leapt onto a windowsill, pawing at the glass there.
"Is that his pet, do you suppose?" the Arab man, I believe his name was Mahmoud, asked. I turned to him and gave a cool look.
"More than likely it is a stray," I replied. "There are thousands of them around Shanghai, although I do suppose he would be one to have a Siamese as a pet. They are considered quite the good luck charm - particularly for businesses."
A knock on the door from Francis, the pilot, and the sound of shuffling footsteps came from within. There was a long pause as the owner reached the door, and then the sound of a deadbolt lock sliding open, followed thereafter by the door opening.
"Hello? Who you?" The voice from within the building spoke in broken English, a voice soft, meek, and cracked with age - and nerves.
"Mr. Lung?" asked Francis tentatively. "We saw your ad in the newspaper. We had a few questions for you, if we could come in..."
The elderly man hemmed and hawed, then murmured to himself in Cantonese. "They are foreigners," he muttered fearfully, "Except for the woman... I have little choice."
I raised an eyebrow at this, but did not comment as the man opened the door. Mr. Lung looked ancient, at least in his seventies or so, and his eyes held a look of clear worry as they flicked between the others in the group. Meanwhile, that cat outside yowled, and scurried inside, unbeknownst to the man. Perhaps it was his pet after all.
"You come in, please," Mr. Lung said in a reserved way, as if dubious of us, and we obliged. Within the hallway hung several scrolls from the walls and ceiling - Tiger Scrolls, I soon realized. I mentioned as such to the others, softly, and they gave me looks of confusion.
"They're what?" Sarah regarded me with a look of suspicion, as if I were attempting to trick her.
"For protection from spirits," I clarified. "They are intended to protect the dwelling they hang within, however, there are normally not this many in one home..."
My suspicions increased when I noticed his furniture arrangements, at odd angles - clearly feng shui, though I doubt my new colleagues would have known as much. Mr. Lung insisted we sit in the back fortune-telling room and talk with him a while, and so we did. There was a strange cabinet in one corner, all the windows were covered, and the room smelled of incense, the effect amplified by the small size of the place. No, he knew nothing about this apparent Order that was following the others around. No, he was unaware of any odd happenings around Shanghai; the man barely left home except for groceries. Never mind the charms littering every surface, he said, they were to bring good fortune to the house. Yes, he was indeed an astrologer, Purple Star Astrology, he said. Had we come to have our fortunes read? But Mr. Lung could not relax, even as he sat and allowed us to touch the jade charms. His nervousness only mounted, in fact, and eventually Laurent, the Frenchman, picked up on it.
"Is someone... after you, Mr. Lung?" He inquired, and the oracle immediately drew back, laughing nervously.
"No, no! Is old age... I get shaky hands... Yes, very shaky! You stay, I get you tea... then read fortune."
The others looked to me in confusion as the elderly man left to brew tea. As if I were supposed to know!
"He clearly has someone after him," I murmured. "Perhaps this Order you have been speaking about. If that is the case, he surely is in danger. We must convince him to tell us the truth. I suspect if we approach this with caution and allow the fortune reading, he may warm up. Otherwise, we will need to pry further."
"Why is this guy so obsessed with good fortune, anyway?" asked Francis. "I mean, I know luck and fortune are huge things in China, but this seems excessive."
"I am not sure, but if he is being hunted, he may find all this comforting..."
Francis was about to reply when Mr. Lung returned, a tray of tea in hand, and sat down, pouring tea for us. The Siamese mewled from the hallway, but did not step into the threshold of the room. It didn't do anything when Mr. Lung shut the door, revealing the magnificent bronze-coin sword on the back of it. But still, we heard it, complaining from outside. The man looked nervously to the coin-sword, then to us, and then proceeded to laugh nervously. Now it was time for me to get involved, since my foreign compatriots were clearly not doing a good enough job.
"Honorable Mr. Lung, are you absolutely certain you are not being followed by someone?" I inquired in respectful Mandarin, tone gentle. "There is nothing to fear from us. You see, we are also being followed, and we may be able to help..."
"No!" his sudden tone was jarring, and I watched a hand reach into his pocket as the other continued setting the oracle bones up for the fortune-telling. "Please, do not inquire any further, my dear. Now is not the time for talking."
He would not speak further, and proceeded to light incense and cast the bones. The others of course deferred to me, and I merely explained it was part of the ritual for such a fortune-telling. His wise gaze lit over the bones, and he murmured to the others under his breath.
"Very great darkness follow you," he said, eyes peering up at us in worry. "Very great. I do cleansing of spirit. Exorcise demons."
"That is much appreciated, thank you," Sarah replied as Mr. Lung pulled some sort of paper out of his pocket. Then he accidentally dropped some of it, and the inevitable occurred - she bent to retrieve it, but the old man was somehow much faster and snatched it away before casting it into the incense burner with a triumphant look. That look quickly soured when he realized the Hell Money he had burned did not have the desired effect on us. In fact, his face fell to one of great dismay and he nervously looked at the door.
"I... I get you more tea," he stammered, voice cracking, and moved from the room as quickly as possible. Still the cat did not budge from the threshold, but when it saw the Hell Money on the floor, its interest was piqued.
"Okay, something's clearly wrong with this old man," said Francis, taking up the remainder of the Hell Money from the floor and proceeding to the front room. "He's been acting nervous since we came here. Someone's obviously after him."
"Francis is correct," Mahmoud added as the group followed. "First it was the scrolls that Lady Xu mentioned. Then the charms, the oddly intricate coin-sword, and the burning of the fake money. Mr. Lung is clearly a man haunted... perhaps by spirits?"
Laurent's glance was dubious, but I spoke before he could. "No, Mahmoud is right," I added. "He would have such trinkets as these if he were expecting some sort of spiritual retribution, particularly the Hell Money..."
"Is that what that is?" Sarah's eyes looked to me, fascinated. "Isn't that supposed to be burned to protect from demons?"
"Impressive knowledge for a foreigner," I replied wryly. "And to be fair, few white tourists ever come this far into the true Shanghai, so it is little wonder that he is nervous about the four of you..."
The cat then came sniffing about, meowing and looking to us with silent green eyes.
"I got an idea..." The pilot smirked and let the remaining Hell Money drop. Sure enough, the cat came over and sniffed at the paper. And on cue, he snatched it up, lit the money with a match, and the cat made horrific hissing noises.
"McCloud, what are you doing? You are scaring the poor thing!" Mahmoud glared in offense as the feline backed away, growling, ears flat. "Look at it, it's frightened now..."
But I soon came to a conclusion, and I believe Sarah and Francis did at the same time. Apparently, Mr. Lung also reached the same conclusion as he entered, but when we attempted to approach and explain, he reacted with panic and backed into the fortune-telling room. Before we could say a word, he then threw what appeared to be a pair of old infant's silk slippers into the incense burner, sending up the disgusting scent of burning insects, and when he saw such a trick did nothing but confuse us, he collapsed before us in a terrified puddle.
"You such cruel demons!" he cried, cowering from us. "Why? You so powerful, I try everything! Please, mercy... mercy on me!"
It then became painfully obvious to the others what had been clear to me a few moments ago - Mr. Lung was a man afraid for his immortal soul. A little prying soon revealed his story. He had seen a deeply unfavorable result for himself in the stars, indicating his own spiritual downfall. He had no knowledge of why, but he very much believed that a demon was coming to exact celestial revenge upon him for some sleight against the divine. He had tried every single trick he knew, from the Tiger Scrolls to the charms to the burning slippers in the incense burner, and nothing had worked. No wonder the man was afraid! Of course, once we explained that we only thought he might have some information, and that we feared some sort of cult was after him, he realized we meant no harm at all.
"But," he queried, his face furrowing into deep confusion, "If you no demons... who is?"
Then we all heard the snarling yowl, deep and guttural, from behind us in the hallway, and our hearts collectively sank. Our suspicions were confirmed when we turned and saw the cat. Only, it was no longer merely a cat, but a hellish variation of one, its claws gnarled and red, and its eyes flashing and smoking with unnatural green light.
"Move aside, humans," it hissed in Mandarin, edging closer with threatening steps. "The elder is mine..."
"He has done nothing wrong," I defended, narrowing my eyes at the beast. "Who are you, and why must you torment this poor man?"
"I am called Wu, and he has a debt to repay... The Heavenly Courts are displeased." It licked its chops and purred in a deep rumble. "Now move aside, or be forced aside!"
"No," I replied, standing resolute, and the others glanced to me in worry.
"What did it say?" Mahmoud worried, his dark eyes turning to me.
"Mr. Lung has offended the Heavens," I responded, but that was all I was able to explain. None of us had the time to react before the demon sprung at us, knocking Laurent and Sarah out of the way and pouncing upon Mr. Lung like a rat. He wrestled with the thing, and then Laurent, frightened as he was, had an idea.
"Mei-Lin, the sword!" he cried, and I tossed it to him quickly, nearly destroying the hooks on the door it hung from as I pulled it down. He then threw the heavy thing, and it landed directly upon the demon, which yowled and squalled with rage and distaste as it was driven from the panicked Mr. Lung.
"The cabinet!" I heard him cry, and we soon realized what needed to be done.
I believe there is an American turn of phrase, a rather curious one, that applies here. That term would be, "like herding cats". I doubt demon cats were what the originator of that charming phrase meant, but it certainly was difficult. The creature put up quite a fight, but could not force itself to move around the sword, as demons can move only in straight lines. Slowly, carefully, we backed it near to the cabinet, which Sarah quickly pulled the door open on. Inside, the cabinet held mirrors on every surface - a sure way to banish evil spirits. It was quite the battle, but we managed to force the thing into the cabinet before it realized what had happened - and when it did, it was much too late. Sarah slammed the door shut and locked it, trapping the squealing demon inside... and within seconds, all grew silent. On opening the door, there was no trace the creature had ever remained. Mr. Lung, of course, was relieved - and incredibly grateful. He bowed deeply, blessed us, and was in our debts for saving him from what would surely have been a terrible fate.
Our questions then turned to obtaining what information Mr. Lung did know. I believe it was Francis who inquired about the Order of the Bloated Woman, some sort of ancient and horrible cult that was apparently stalking them. He did not know anything about them, but he was able to point us to the Shanghai Museum and one Mu Hsien who was an old friend of his. He had unfortunately lost track of the latter, but was certain a Mr. Mao at the Museum could help us. Unable to get any more information from Mr. Lung, we left, thanking him for his time and apologizing profusely for frightening him.
I hope only that he remains safe from further danger, which seem to be everywhere these days. To say we felt accomplished is a bit much, but I will admit, it did feel good to help the old man. I am not a completely heartless and cold woman, despite what others may say - even I dislike seeing the elderly in danger or suffering. But for now, that is not important. What is important is tracking down this Mu Hsien, and learning what we can from him. And as for me, I am afraid I am stuck with the foreigners for some time. They certainly will not be able to traipse around Shanghai without a guide, and Sarah is looking more weary these days...
-- Lady Xu Mei-Lin, Interest Piqued (May 21st, 1928)