Chapter Four: The Little Mischief from the Underworld (Part One)

This time, the figure before him instantly convinced Shi Jun that it was anything but human—no normal person could hover three feet above the ground for no reason at all.

What floated there resembled a five- or six-year-old boy, dressed exactly like the lucky child from traditional Chinese New Year paintings: a bright red bib and shorts, a round, gleamingly bald head, bare little arms and legs glowing pink, two tiny dimples at the corners of his mouth, and large, lively eyes rolling with mischief—a sturdy, tigerish cherub, absolutely adorable.

At this moment, the little fellow’s feet seemed to rest on two invisible wheels of wind and fire, keeping him afloat as his body gently bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm. If only he had three heads and six arms, he would have looked just like Nezha from the cartoons.

Charming as this little creature might be, Shi Jun had absolutely no interest in him just now.

Tonight had been a disaster: first, his midnight snack had been rudely interrupted by a passing female ghost, and now—worse—he, who always prided himself on being calm and collected, had actually been frightened to the point of falling over. His dignity was in tatters! What made it all the more infuriating was that tonight seemed plagued by inexplicable misfortune—trouble after ridiculous trouble kept knocking at his door, and he was nearing his breaking point.

The floating child noticed Shi Jun’s deepening frown, his own eyes darting slyly. Suddenly, in midair, he dropped to one knee, pressed his hands together before his chest in a peculiar gesture, and with a clear, respectful child’s voice announced, “Imp of the Underworld greets Lord Netherwarden!”

Imp? Lord? Shi Jun was thoroughly bewildered and didn’t respond immediately. Still, he sensed no malice from the hovering boy, so he gave a muffled grunt, massaged his numb legs, and, leaning on a chair, slowly stood up.

Getting no reply, the self-proclaimed imp shook his head, thought for a moment, and with a swish landed on the ground. He skipped over, bowed again, and declared, “Imp pays respects to Lord Netherwarden!”

Netherwarden? Shi Jun caught it this time, but it only deepened his confusion—me? Netherwarden? What on earth?

He pondered. This couldn’t be simple. First, tonight’s bizarre hauntings in his home must have a reason; second, this so-called underworld envoy, with his grand airs, would hardly show up by chance; and third, if he was calling Shi Jun “Lord Netherwarden,” there must be some greater cause hidden behind it all…

A headache came over Shi Jun, a vague foreboding that from this night onward, his peaceful life would be thoroughly upended. The thought made him blurt out, “You’ve got the wrong person!”

* * *

“No, no, impossible!” the childlike imp bounced about, his innocent eyes wide. “The Emperor of the Underworld can’t be wrong! He told me Lord Netherwarden is you!”

“What emperor, what netherwarden? I’ve never heard of any of this!” Shi Jun snapped, then another possibility struck him—could his time be up? Was King Yama summoning him to be a petty official below? His heart clenched with sudden fear.

“You mean to say Lord Netherwarden knows nothing?” the imp muttered, confusion filling his gaze. “How could that be? Lord Netherwarden is one of the four realms’—” He abruptly clapped his chubby hand over his mouth, eyes darting around in alarm before continuing, “In any case, Lord Netherwarden is you!”

“How can a mortal be netherwarden? You’re not here to drag me down, are you?” Shi Jun asked, clinging to hope.

“Drag Lord Netherwarden? I wouldn’t dare!” The imp’s face filled with anxiety, his confusion deepening.

* * *

“Oh, so you’re not here to take me away.” Shi Jun felt himself calm down a little.

Tonight’s events were simply too bizarre. Usually, he scoffed at tales of demons and ghosts, yet now he’d encountered one supernatural thing after another. Shi Jun began to wonder if he was losing his mind, a deep exhaustion washing over him.

“Go away,” he said, waving weakly.

“Go?” The imp echoed in surprise. “I can’t go! I’m your subordinate now, Lord Netherwarden! And I haven’t even told you the mission the Emperor sent you!”

A harbinger of trouble, just as he suspected! No ghost would come calling unless it meant trouble. After all that had happened tonight, Shi Jun wanted nothing more than a moment of peace.

“Enough, just leave! I have no interest in you or your underworld—so don’t bother me!” Shi Jun spoke impatiently, watching the imp for a reaction—truth be told, he felt a twinge of fear toward these supernatural beings.

The little one listened with a dejected frown, lips pouting. After a moment, she stubbornly insisted, “I promised the Emperor I wouldn’t return until my mission was done.”

“Enough already, I said I don’t want to hear it. Are you deaf?” Shi Jun didn’t really have the heart to yell at someone so cute—though he knew this creature’s true form might be far less pleasant—but he truly didn’t want the entanglement to continue, so he feigned severity.

“I wouldn’t dare!” The imp looked aggrieved, her eyes darting nervously—and then, all at once, she plopped down and wailed, “Waaaah! Waaaah… If Lord Netherwarden won’t agree, I can’t go back! I’ll be punished! It’s so unfair! Waaaah…”

Shi Jun jumped, startled by the volume—if his mother wasn’t woken by that, it’d be a miracle!

He moved to hush the crying, but the imp, even in the midst of her performance, seemed to read his mind and managed between sobs, “Waaah… Don’t worry! Ordinary people like your mom can’t hear me—only you can! Waaah…”

Relieved, Shi Jun watched as the little one kicked her legs and scrubbed at her eyes with all her might, yet produced not a single tear, peeking at him now and then through her fingers. Amused, he said, “Get up! Crying at the drop of a hat—what kind of boy are you?”

“Waaah! I’m not a boy at all, so I can cry if I want! Waaah…” she muttered through her fake sobs.

What? Shi Jun was stunned—a girl? He’d assumed she was a boy because of the shaved head, but it turned out…

* * *

“Hehe, Lord Netherwarden doesn’t like this form?” The imp suddenly looked enlightened and excitedly stood up. “How about this? This is one of my treasures—I spent thirty years perfecting it!”

She spun around, and before Shi Jun now stood a classical beauty in palace attire. Her hair was piled high, her figure elegant, dressed in splendid robes of an unknown era, her head adorned with strings of ornaments, willow brows and an oval face. She was a true ancient beauty—except for those mischievous, darting eyes that ruined the composed elegance of her appearance.

Shi Jun recoiled, baring his teeth in awkwardness, as the beauty fluttered her hand in an exaggerated orchid gesture and, parting her lips, spoke in the imp’s childish, babbling voice: “The Yaksha brothers say I’m beautiful like this! You don’t like it? Hmm, then I’ll try another!”

With a turn, she became a hulking, dark-skinned man of the Northeast, bearded, with a hooked nose and broad fists, standing solemnly before Shi Jun.

Before he could react, the giant’s eyes darted, and he covered his mouth with a fan-sized hand, giggling before whispering, “Guess what? This is Yaksha brother’s form—he doesn’t know I learned it too! Don’t tell him, or I’ll get spanked!”

Shi Jun couldn’t help but laugh. “Then why do you imitate him?”

“It’s useful! Very useful!” the burly Northeasterner declared, full of mysterious pride. “I can use it to bluff my way past the underworld soldiers—they’re always so rude to me, but when they see Yaksha brother, they’re all so respectful…”

The bristly giant gestured animatedly, babbling on, but Shi Jun’s mind wandered—Emperor of the Underworld, Yaksha, underworld soldiers… It seemed this mischievous imp truly was from the place she claimed. But what did any of this have to do with Shi Jun? Surely, they hadn’t chosen him by random chance.

With that thought, a resigned helplessness swept over him.

* * *

So be it! If trouble comes, he’d face it. At worst, they’d drag his soul away with their deathly ropes—he had no desire to tangle with the underworld. Shi Jun realized that once he let his guard down, more uncontrollable events would invade his once-peaceful life, perhaps even threatening those close to him…

Seeing his silence, the imp returned to her original form, pondering. “I wonder what form Lord Netherwarden would like best? Oh dear, if you prefer animals, I’m doomed—I only know one, and I’m terrible at it…”

She pouted, made a gesture, muttered something under her breath, and with a “poof!” vanished—replaced at Shi Jun’s feet by a plump, pink piglet, snow-white and round, its tiny tail curled jauntily as it wobbled side to side. Incredibly, it could still speak, using the imp’s aggrieved childish voice: “This is all I can do. You don’t really like it, do you, Lord Netherwarden?”

Despite his annoyance, even Shi Jun couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “Can’t you turn into something I find pleasing?”

“Something pleasing? Hmm, let me think…” The piglet snorted, “Alright…”

Before Shi Jun could hear what she was saying, an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old girl appeared before him.