A friend of mine, walking along Love River near Kaohsiung, found a roll of money tied with red ribbon.  Through his headphones a bully voice told him to use the bills to buy beer, while a thin, persistent voice refused to let him touch it, as if some danger lurked behind that lure.

He walked on by.

Later that evening at a western bar, a gruff expatriate started buying him beers, so he told him the story in the spirit of reciprocity.  The expatriate farted then explained a local peasant custom:  The families of young women who die unmarried sometimes leave money to snare husbands for the ghosts.  He who picks it up marries her, incurring minor obligations such as celebrating her birthday and lamenting the day she died.  When my friend heard that, he laughed at the quaint custom, then broke into a sweat. 

He thinks about her often.