Guardian Ghost

Chapter 3: The ghost getting a name

No, don't think like that. That's like admitting you believe his story. Which means you're also admitting that you're going crazy. I nearly slammed the door shut behind me as we retreated back into my room. Nope, I can't get angry and yell at someone no one thinks is there...! Instead, I contented myself by crossing my arms and glaring at the unfazed boy, my lips quivering in anger. "You've got three minutes like in a crux speech. Explain yourself."

"But I've been doing that for the past hour!" After whining, he plopped back down onto my bed. I reflected that I really hated when others climbed into my bed. And I hated it even more when they had dirty, bloody clothing and an annoying personality.

"Two minutes," I said tersely, to show I wasn't in the mood for humour.

"Look, it's all pretty straightforward." He sat up and pointed at himself. "I'm a ghost. You're a living person who's going to die of some horrific circumstance that isn't natural death. I've been sent here by a higher power or whatever to prevent it.

"Anyways, you might be wondering why I'm a ghost. Thing is, I died of some horrific circumstance as well. That means I'm not qualified to move on." He did air quotations between his words. "Rebirth or heaven or whatever you think it is, I'm not qualified to enter. Maybe I haven't shown enough goodwill in my life that was cut short. I don't know. What I do know is that I get to reach that next life if I save yours. So it's a win-win. You don't die and I get to finally rest in peace." I frowned. His tone of voice during the explanation had been easygoing, but I sensed an underlying tension tinged with pain beneath his gung ho words. It must hurt talking about his death...

I wonder if it was caused by that knife wound from the beginning...

Wait, no. If I think like that, then I'm actually buying into his story? Try as I might, I couldn't see a way around his explanation of things. Occam's razor, right? The simplest answer is usually the right one. But this answer...

"You okay? You look as pale as a ghost." He offered a half-hearted grin. "No pun intended."

"Just give me a minute." I took a deep breath. "I need to throw my old thinking out of the window to accept this." Ghosts exist. There's one right in front of me. Okay, Yuelian, accept it and move on to asking more important things like that part about you dying...

But first: "Question: Are you haunting me like in those fantasy-romance novels? I hope the answer is no, 'cuz that would be disgusting."

He looked quizzically at me. "You should be glad I'm here," he retorted, "and I don't know what types of books you read, but let me assure you that this is a professional situation. Let me explain a few things. It'll take a while, so I suggest you sit down."

I sat down as he instructed, still struggling with understanding exactly what was happening. However, now that I was on the edge of accepting that he was undead, I was finally able to string some inconsistencies about him together. The way he dressed, for one. The outfit didn't seem like it would fit in today: a large t-shirt with a plain logo – now impossible to make out due to the blood – and sleeves down to his elbows, and incredibly baggy jeans. I reflected he had left a rounded pair of sneakers at my door, when he'd entered, and it had been a style I wasn't exactly familiar with. Around his neck, he wore a jade pendent that just peeked out over his collar, so I couldn't be sure what the design hanging off the brown cord was. All in all, not exactly a modern day outfit.

And his accent was off as well. After a moment of consideration, I realized that his accent sounded familiar yet unfamiliar since it was a Chinese accent. Then, I thought with triumph, the ghost in front of me is Chinese like me, and must have immigrated slightly later if he kept an accent. And he lived long enough before my time to have avoided the age of skinny jeans! My eyes swept over his standing figure one last time to make sure, but I was confident of my deductions.

He caught me staring at him and, for a fraction of a second, seemed slightly self-conscious. Then the moment passed and his cocky attitude returned. He raised an eyebrow. "Checking me out?"

"Heck no!" I cried, before remembering that my parents would hear me yelling at no one. He is kinda cute in an old-school, bad boy way, but he'll never hear that from me! "Okay, moving on. Before we get into dark and gloomy stuff"—don't think about you dying, Yuelian—"we should go through the basics. My name's—"

"Yuelian, right?" He cut me off. "Your parents were fairly direct. I'm—"

"If you say Danny, I'll laugh my head off."

"Danny? Why Danny?"

I sighed. "Right, that show wasn't your childhood, was it? Ignore me." I gave a small wave to indicate he should move on and forget about my comment.

"Well then." He cleared his throat and started again, "My name is Chen Xiang." A pause. "What, no Bao lian deng pun?"

"Was that your childhood?"

"Nah, I was too old for movies like that by then." He smiled wryly. "Besides, I had the name before the movie came out."

"How could you say that you were too old for Bao Lian Deng?" I gasped. "I still re-watch that with my little brother from time to time! Wow, you sound like my older brother—he's all blah, blah, it's such a little kid movie, blah."

"... Do you always talk this much?"

"Only when I'm nervous..." My eyes brightened as I suddenly thought of an idea. "Since you have the same name as that cute little protagonist in the movie, why don't I call you Xiao Xiang? It has a nice ring to it cuz of alliteration, right?"

"Xiao..." He took a deep breath. "Call me whatever you want. Now, can I start my explanation?"

"No, wait. Not yet. I'm trying to figure out which nickname is better."

"Better?"

"Danny or Xiao Xiang? Danny's a good name, but I really like Xiao Xiang... It's just a bit too long--kind of a tongue twister."

"..."

"Xiao. Xiang. Danny. Hm..."

"..."

"Hey, the face you make when I call you Xiao Xiang is funnier! Okay, then let's do this: I'll introduce you to my friends as Danny so that people can call you by name and pronounce it right. I'll just call you Xiang since I hate nicknames myself—people have been trying to give them to me for ages. But if you ever annoy me, I'm using Xiao Xiang."

"...What nicknames did people give you?"

"Not telling!" I grinned. "Nice try--you're just try to barter an eye for an eye and get me to stop with Xiao Xiang." My grin faltered as I realized that my lively banter could only go on for so long before our conversation took a serious turn. "Okay, sorry, I'll try to compose myself." Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth... In through the nose, out through the mouth...

"Okay I'm—Ack!" Opening my eyes, I found Xiang's face only centimeters from mine—in other words: way too close for comfort. "Hey! Personal space!" I reflexively shoved his face out of the way and, upon retracting my hand, noticed once again how strange it was that I could touch him.

In fact, I may have touched him too hard because his cheek was turning red.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed. "I shoved too hard!"

"No, don't worry, it's my fault." Xiang felt at his face robotically. It looked like he was mildly surprised. I reflected that he probably wasn't used to having physical contact with the living. It was a sad thought. "You're really warm."

"And you're cold-blooded, apparently." Before, when I had been checking his vitals, I hadn't noticed how icy his skin felt. But just now it was as if my whole palm had been placed onto a block of ice. "Were you always that cold?"

"... My body temperature may be different depending on where you touch." Without warning, he grabbed my hand. His grip was just as cold as his face had been. "I think it's to prevent any unwanted circumstances."

"Unwanted circumstances?" I cocked my head to the side in confusion, but he didn't seem to want to reveal any more.

"It's not an issue with us." He let go of my numb hand and felt at his face again. "Now can I start talking?"

"Sure." I was still wringing warmth back into my hands, but my eyes met his with what confidence I could muster. "I'm ready to listen."