A wuxia parody by Pan Haitian – translated by Nick Stember
Night of the full moon, Peking.
The Shaoxing Hostel lays just outside the Gate of Military Might.
Three rooms and a courtyard, where a crooked locust tree stands, haunted by the ghost of a hanged woman. There are few guests, until the second year of the Republic, when a man in a long-sleeved gown arrives, carrying a collection of rubbings from ancient tablets. His hair is like steel needles, and a thick mustache graces his upper lip.
He spends his days copying out the rubbings.