Rumors whispered through the streets and alleys that anyone plagued by ghosts, demons, or malevolent spirits could seek out a woman named A’Ruo to deliver them from their plight. She was easy to recognize, dressed in green robes with a woven bamboo basket strapped to her back.

Whispers went further, claiming that the basket on her back harbored a supreme treasure, one capable of elevating whoever possessed it to the highest seat of power.

Whenever anyone dared to ask her about it, A’Ruo would offer a lighthearted smile and say, “What I carry on my back is indeed a treasure.”

What was it, exactly?

On one day, she would claim it was a treasure map.

A few days later, she would insist it was a money tree.

She had even claimed that a whole mountain was packed inside it.

And occasionally, with a bashful blush, she would whisper that it held nothing but her intimate, freshly washed undergarments.

But once, by some terrible accident, she dropped the basket and broke it, spilling its contents onto the ground.

The woman who had always been so full of smiles and nonsensical chatter threw herself forward in utter panic. Tears streaming down her face, she wiped them away as she gingerly gathered the shattered fragments, cradling them to her chest with desperate care.

Only then did the onlookers see what lay there: the bleached, white bones of an adult man.

……

In a time of famine where humans devoured one another to survive, A’Ruo had been coaxed out of her only three bamboo roots by a deity leaning against a tree.

The deity transformed those humble bamboo roots into three glowing, ethereal sparrows.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

Draped in the soft glow of the moonlight, with delicate, wispy clouds swirling about his sleeves, he had cast a cool, fleeting glance down at her.

From that moment on, A’Ruo’s eyes held room for no one but her deity.

And so, A’Ruo carried her deity upon her back, traversing thousands of mountains and walking the earth for a hundred years.

PS: An episodic tale of ghosts and deities.

As always, a slow-burn story.

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