"Fire. Yes. When we were drinking, their door fell down on its own. I was upset, so I drank a lot. When I sobered up a little, I saw fire in their fireplace, even though it's been dead ever since they left." Once Enbo had got these words out, he inhaled very, very deeply, while slowly lowering his hand from his face. He turned a beseeching gaze towards his family. As each of them met his eyes with theirs, they felt his deep remorse and terror as their own—it seeped into their hearts. The whole family stood there like statues, holding their tongues and their breath, while the flames in the fireplace stretched out and then shrunk back, throwing their shadows on the wall. The shadows grew and shrunk, grew and shrunk, in time with the flickering flames. Their terror became like the kind of coldness that exists only in the depths of night, clawing its way silently up their backs. The whole family sat, just so, until the grey-white light of dawn shone through the window.
Jamcan Gonbo was the first to move. He pulled himself up and began to kitchen things: an urn of milk, a brick of tea, and a small bag of flour. Then, he spoke to his family:
"If their ghosts really have returned, they will need comforting, even though they are ghosts. The fact that they have come back can only mean that life was even worse for them outside the village than it was in the village."
Jamcan Gonbo glanced at Enbo, whose face was still ashen. He spoke to his nephew in a soft tone:
"My dear nephew, go and recite the reincarnation scriptures, on behalf of those two poor souls."
The two men descended the stairs, while from behind them came the sounds of a woman sobbing. As they were walking through the courtyard gate, a running Bunny caught up with them. He wanted to go with them. Enbo told him to go back inside, but Bunny wouldn't go. Enbo sighed, and then he took Bunny's hand in his. Three generations of males walked together towards the square, towards the centre of the village. They hadn't walked long when they made out Sangdan's hazy outline through a gossamer pall of mist. There was definitely something spectral in the air, but the tap-tap sound of her footsteps as she walked away from them proved she was no ghost.
The three men followed her image into the square.
Sangdan stopped in front of her little house, and there she stood. The three men stopped too. Sangdan bent down to pick up her door that had fallen without being touched, before finally walking slowly over the threshold into her house. The room inside was dark as a cave, so from outside, the three men couldn't see what she was doing in there. Enbo heard her whoop with what sounded like surprise and joy. The whoop was quickly followed by the sound of Gela crying, then by Sangdan crying. There was enough force in her sobs to burst a lung. The people of Ji village had become accustomed to Sangdan's constant, dazzling smile and silly giggle—now, they heard her cry for the first time.
"Ghosts." Enbo began shaking, though he wasn't cold.
"They're not ghosts, I know they're not! Big brother Gela has come back!" Bunny shouted.
Enbo quickly covered his son's mouth with one of his large hands.
At exactly that moment, the sound of weeping cut out abruptly. This gave Enbo the feeling that at the same time he'd covered up Bunny's little mouth with his hand, he'd also somehow stifled the wailing of the two ghosts. Outside, the three men stood where they were in the morning mist, listening intently for any sound from within. Once the crying had stopped, Sangdan and Gela's two voices began to talk in a confused chatter, almost competing, as if they were each afraid of losing the lead in their mumbled conversation. It sounded as if they were almost out of breath from the effort. But the content of their words was totally lost on the three men outside, no matter how they strained their ears. Behind the demented voices, the fireplace that had stood cold for so long was giving birth to a new fire that burned brighter and brighter by degrees, so that Gela and Sangdan's faces were silhouetted in sharp, bold lines and projected out through the doorway into the square. Sangdan's face was serene but steeped deep in emotion, the stillness of her eyes that never shifted from her son belied the tears that flowed clear and steady down her face. Gela's face, on the other hand, was aglow with joy that radiated from his gleaming smile, though he too was streaming bright tears from his eyes.
A pause, then, Sangdan began her loud lamenting again.
Enbo threw up his hands in the shape of a cross while he murmured an incantation:
"Lord Buddha, thank you for your blessings, and for bringing Sangdan and her little boy back alive. Oh Lord Buddha, wash away my sin."
Then, his pretty, god-fearing eyes became just the most recent source of gushing tears.
Gela's voice could be heard now, though it was choked by his sobs:
"Ah-ma, where have you been these years?"
Now the three outside could clearly hear the conversation inside.
"I was scared. Oh my son, I was so scared," Sangdan sobbed.
"I looked everywhere for you, but I couldn't find you anywhere I went, so then I came back here. I went to so many places, so many places. I thought those men killed you, and I was scared. I just wandered around, I didn't care where I went. But then I ran out of places to go, so I came back here. I never thought heaven would give me my son back, but I guess it actually never really took you away."
"Heaven wouldn't take me away, Ah-ma. I couldn't find you, and then I ran out of places to go, too. I only just got back. I lay down to sleep and when I opened my eyes, you were here, Ah-ma!"
Outside, Enbo was awash with nervous excitement. He decided then and there that he was going to burst into the house, but he was restrained by Jamcan Gonbo as soon as he lifted his foot to move.
"Let them enjoy their happiness while they have it," his uncle counselled.
