Among the spirit mediums of Northeast China, keeping a well-ordered altar is essential. The yang altar enshrines the five kinds of immortals: fox, yellow weasel, white weasel, willow spirit, and rat spirit, each with their own abilities. The yin altar enshrines ghost immortals, with the King of Sorrows in command, the wandering spirits running errands, and the smoke ghosts doing odd jobs. These two altars, one yin and one yang, are both indispensable.
But the spirit mediums of the Lin family have an old rule: their own ancestor must occupy the King of the Tablet's seat. They call it “having a family ghost preside over the altar.”
The King of the Tablet at Lin Zhao's yin altar was her great-grandfather's younger brother. By seniority, she had to call him Great-Uncle. This old King of Sorrows had been a spirit medium when alive. After his death, he brought the powers he'd cultivated in life into the yin altar, where he commanded all the ghost immortals. He was the most taciturn person at the altar. When investigating a case, he said only a word or two, and he never lingered when he took his seat.
Yet on the day her great-grandfather established the altar, it was his younger brother who took the King of the Tablet's seat.
No one knew why.
Until Lin Zhao took her first case: a girl in the neighboring village had been forced into a ghost marriage, and her soul was trapped in the underworld. The old King of Sorrows went into the underworld to investigate. When he returned, he sat motionless for an entire night.
As the bride's soul departed, she looked back at Lin Zhao. “That old man at your altar... he's crying.”
A single character appeared in the incense ash: her great-grandfather's name.
Her family's old King of Sorrows had chosen this. Chosen to die, chosen to join the altar, chosen to guard it for decades without ever leaving.
Why?
Who was he waiting for?
