All morning she paced her room, awaiting a visitor. When someone knocked tentatively, she arranged herself on the divan in an attitude of amused ease.
‘Enter!’
The fat apprentice bobbed in the doorway, grinning nervously.
‘A visitor, Madam.’
‘Well, send him in, Chung.’
He ushered into the room a neat, clean-shaven man. Her visitor looked round curiously, hands hidden in his sleeves.
Instead of bowing low as in the old days, he merely nodded. Lu Ying’s condescending smile grew brittle.
‘Fu Sha! Do come in and close the door. Wait outside, Chung.’
The jeweller stood in the centre of the room, taking in the stacked boxes, the meanness of her quarters. Tales of her situation would make salty gossip. Some might even reach the Pacification Commissioner’s palace. There was no help for it now.
‘Fu Sha,’ she said. ‘As you can see, my store chamber is a little cluttered at present. Alas, my audience chamber is being refurbished, so this will have to do.’
‘I am honoured,’ he said.
She shot him a glance. So smooth a face gave no sign of whether he believed her.
‘Good. Well, let’s to business. I have a commission for you, Fu Sha.’
She outlined her wishes. That the mirror’s radius should not exceed two hands. Its borders were to be decorated with dragons and phoenixes. The characters of her name should be like a shadow beneath the mirror’s silver face. He listened attentively.
‘A most unusual design,’ he said, at last.
She nodded, pleased by his reaction.
‘I need it very soon. How soon might it be complete?’
Fu Sha’s glance was wandering again.
‘How soon?’ He bowed slightly. ‘Such a great piece of work would take many months to accomplish.’
‘That is too long!’
‘The border decorations alone would occupy my entire workshop.’ He looked up at her sharply. ‘Honourable Lady Lu Ying must realise that even humble Fu Sha has not lacked commissions since her. . . change of abode.’
A flush crept through her make-up.
‘Then there is the matter of payment,’ he said. ‘I take it the account should be sent to His Excellency, as before?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘Your fees will be met by myself.’
He frowned.
‘I see. I am most grateful. May I request that my fee of ten thousand
cash
be settled in advance? With so unique a piece of work. . . I’m sure Madam understands.’
Lu Ying understood very well. But ten thousand! Her box of
cash
contained only a third that amount.
‘What if you were to receive a large bar of silver?’ she asked.
‘You might begin at once.’
Fu Sha seemed embarrassed.
‘As I say. . .’
‘The silver shall be sent to you today.’
‘Even so. . .’
‘Then it is settled.’
Indeed it seemed so to her, as though the mirror was already waiting in its silk-lined box for a messenger to rush it to Peacock Hill. He pursed his lips.
‘I would be honoured by your commission, when I receive full payment in advance.’
She barely heard him. At last her troubles were receding! She felt like a sick person informed her disease is on the mend.
Lu Ying realised the door had closed. Fu Sha no longer stood before her. Had she given him permission to go? Yet he was gone. Her fan tapped against her knee. The bar of silver must be sent without delay, before all hope slipped away.
Lu Ying had always prided herself on her energy. Once Wang Ting-bo had gazed at her in wonder as they lay entwined on moist sheets. ‘When you bear me a son,’ he said, ‘he shall have the vigour of a tiger.’
So now she did not hesitate. Dr Shih must be found at once.
The rest would be simple. Lu Ying waited a decent interval for Fu Sha to leave Apricot Corner Court, then hurried to the shop.
Fortunately, there was no sign of Madam Cao. Dr Shih’s witless apprentice was polishing jars of medicine without any discernible effort.
‘Where is your master?’ she demanded.
He blinked at her stupidly. ‘At the Relief Bureau, Miss,’ he said.
Her breath hissed with annoyance.
‘Master’s due home soon,’ he added.
‘I shall go to this precious Relief Bureau straight away,’ she announced. ‘Where is it?’
She listened impatiently to his directions, wondering whether Wang Ting-bo’s payments to the doctor amounted to ten thousand. Five would do. The remainder might be raised by selling a few jewels.
Purpose renewed her strength. She hurried into the street before Chung finished his directions. He had told her to seek the Water Basin. That was easy enough. The masts of boats could be seen in the distance. Blurred faces surrounded her but Lu Ying took no notice. Walking as quickly as her bound feet would carry her, she denied the fluttering of her heart. How strange to be outside! To be in the city, among common people!
She was so far above them that she felt invisible. They were easy to ignore. They didn’t exist if she ignored them. It was like walking through the Pacification Commissioner’s pleasure gardens, only the carved pavilions and belvederes had been replaced by filthy warehouses and taverns, shops and mean houses. One might pretend the jabbering voices were birds singing as they fluttered from branch to branch. She would find Dr Shih, bend him to her will.
Lu Ying at last became aware a curious crowd had gathered and were blocking her way. She went very still, drew herself upright. Coarse eyes sullied her exquisite silks and make-up.
People muttered. Then she realised her folly. To be out on the street, unchaperoned! Lu Ying realised with a dreadful certainty that news of this would reach First Wife. How had she allowed it? First Wife must have hired a sorcerer to send her mad! Lu Ying began to tremble. Someone laughed behind her. Were they jeering? She felt hot tears in her eyes. Her make-up would run. She looked round desperately. Essential to retrace her steps, regain Dr Shih’s shop. But she did not recognise the broad street lined with shops selling vegetables and hempen clothes. In her haste, Chung’s directions had flown far away.
Just as she was about to cover her face, a tall figure appeared before her. Through her tears she glimpsed armour, a sword.
Yet the soldier possessed Dr Shih’s face. Trembling, she looked up, and her heart leapt. The broad-chested officer seemed displeased and puzzled. A dozen soldiers and clerks accompanied him.
‘How is this?’ he demanded.
His voice was uncannily like Shih’s, though harsher, and there was something daunting about his manner. She recognised him from his visit to Apricot Corner Court a few weeks earlier – and the look of disapproval in his glance showed that he remembered her just as clearly.
‘I’m seeking Dr Shih,’ she mumbled, afraid people in the crowd might hear. Again he frowned and turned to the gawping circle of faces.
‘Move on!’ he ordered. ‘Sergeant, clear these people! They cause a public nuisance.’
Soon the street flowed as before.
‘Sergeant, form a close escort round the lady,’ he commanded.
Miraculously, she found herself hidden by a forest of burly men carrying halberds.
‘You are Dr Shih’s brother,’ she said, regaining sufficient composure to flutter her fan. ‘You are Captain Xiao.’
He glanced at her. She sensed he felt as awkward as she did.
‘So they say. Now I’ll escort you to my brother.’
The tall soldier walked a few paces ahead of her and the crowd parted before him. No one noticed her now. All eyes were drawn to the splendid Captain Xiao, just as one admires a plumed drake while the drab duck waddles behind. Lu Ying glanced up occasionally at his straight back. Mostly she kept her eyes lowered. Despite gratitude at being rescued, she did not care for his tone. After all, he was just a soldier. Hardly a gentleman at all.
When they reached Apricot Corner Court, Guang nodded at the door.
‘That is where you belong,’ he said. His large brown eyes narrowed. ‘Next time, ensure you have a guide when you seek my brother on the street. Water Basin Ward is a den of rogues.’
Lu Ying found herself nodding obediently. Before she could make a pretty speech of thanks he marched off, too busy for one like her. She watched him disappear round a corner. It surprised her that he did not look back.
An hour later Lu Ying sat in Dr Shih’s consulting room. Tea bowls lay untouched on a low table between them. Once again she was trembling, but now with ill-concealed fury.
It seemed the whole world was unreasonable. First Fu Sha and the gawping peasants on the street, then the arrogant Captain Xiao; and finally, this provoking doctor, with his way of setting one at ease when a formidable stiffness was required.
His wife watched from the doorway with a cold vigilance Lu Ying recognised from her battles with First Wife. If only Madam Cao had not broken into their conversation! Dr Shih might have been managed easily otherwise.
‘Lady Lu Ying,’ he was saying. ‘I still do not understand. You request as a loan the bar of silver I earned for saving His Excellency’s son? But that was my entire fee. The monthly stipend we receive from the Pacification Commissioner merely pays for your food. I was given to understand that he had provided you with a large sum for any special items you might require.’
‘Sir,’ she said. ‘I believe His Excellency gave you gifts in trust, intended for my welfare. Now I need them urgently. It is quite simple. When I resume my former position I shall double, no triple, anything I borrow now.’
Dr Shih glanced at his wife, who at last stirred: ‘You’ll find my husband spent all the fees we received on buying and repairing this house, which formerly we rented from the Landlord Hsing Wa.’
It amazed Lu Ying he allowed his wife to speak for him. She despised men ruled by women. Ignoring Madam Cao, she said stiffly: ‘Dr Shih, if you could send for the bar of silver, I would be most grateful.’
‘How can we give what we no longer possess?’ he asked, clearly taking pains not to embarrass her.
‘What of His Excellency’s other gifts?’ she demanded, shrilly.
‘Lady Lu Ying,’ said Dr Shih, a note of warning in his deep voice.
Anguish clouded Lu Ying’s beautiful face. She realised Dr Shih was watching closely, as though she were a patient in need of a cure.
‘You are distressed,’ he said. Then Shih hesitated, and turned to his wife: ‘Perhaps Wang Ting-bo intended a little of my fee for her needs, though no mention was made at the time. What is your opinion, Cao?’
Lu Ying recollected similar debates between Wang Ting-bo and First Wife. Always she got her way in the end. She allowed herself a sideways glance of triumph at Madam Cao.
‘I think,’ said the plain woman. ‘We owe nothing. In fact, the obligation lies entirely the other way around.’
‘But His Excellency clearly intended we should take care of her,’ suggested Shih. ‘If it will lift her spirits a little. . . Tell me, Lu Ying, what exactly
are
you asking for?’
Quite unexpectedly, the doorway where Cao had been standing became a closed rectangle of wood. Lu Ying and Shih stared in surprise at the blank face of the door. They heard Madam Cao’s hurried footsteps retreating down the corridor. The street door opened and closed with a bang. Lu Ying felt all the bitterness of her triumph.
‘Generous sir,’ she whispered. ‘I require at least five thousand
cash
. There is a piece of jewellery I must commission and the wretched jeweller. . .’
Quite suddenly, as a cloud swiftly hides the sun, Dr Shih’s expression became one of contempt. A change she had never imagined possible from him. The silver mirror and all her schemes suddenly seemed foolish, even vulgar.
‘You create dissent in my household for
that
?’ he said. ‘Can you really not see how we live here?’
‘Dr Shih, perhaps. . .’ she muttered, but he did not hear, for he had bowed curtly and followed his wife through the door.
Lu Ying was left alone to finish her sentence: ‘Perhaps I have misunderstood.’
For long moments she cruelly pinched the softest, most tender places on her arm. If only she had given Wang Ting-bo a son! Then she would not be here, wretched and ashamed. She would not have to return to that suffocating room, crammed with mocking boxes. Or wear silks too fine for her new position in the world.
And now there was a new fear. Dr Shih and Madam Cao might defy the Pacification Commissioner’s displeasure and insist she leave Apricot Corner Court. No one would blame them. Everyone hated her. Lu Ying imagined the cold waters of the canal closing over her head. Wearily, she retreated to her chamber.
‘I recollect a drinking party in autumn when we ordered our carriages to bear us to Mount Wadung, though it was the middle of the night. Our intention was purely a love of insight. Sub-prefect Hui Chi contended that, when the sun rose, we would be able to discern whether Fouzhou lay in shadow longer than Nancheng.
Thus we might be able to attribute
yin
and
yang
to the different cities. Slowly dawn cast a glow upon the land and realms of stars retreated to the emptiness where they hide themselves during daylight, dazzled by the sun. At last Hui Chi announced: ‘Fouzhou is
Yin
-mountain!’ and we muttered amongst ourselves, quite aghast.
For ‘
Yin
-mountain’ lies in the Sixth Hell and is populated by souls more sinned against than sinning. . .’
From
Remembrances of A Western Terrace at Twilight
The Floating Bridge, Nancheng. Autumn, 1266.
Dr Shih left the shop, hurrying into the crowded streets of Nancheng. Faces swam before his eyes, tens of thousands drifting to a food stall or home after the day’s labours. The argument with Cao echoed in his mind.
Shih never quarrelled with his wife, a matter of pride to him.
Yet it seemed their oneness was crumbling like earthen walls during a flood. Even his distress seemed ignoble. The single quality he respected in himself was calmness, or its show. Now he avoided the eyes of those he passed, however humble.
The city bell tolled the hour mournfully. He should have been starting that evening’s round of patients. Many were grievously sick. For the first time in ten years he ignored duty and walked blindly on through Slaughter Pig Alley where carcasses on hooks dried in the wind, then the Street of Jade where jewellers flattered wealthy nobles and merchants, all oblivious to his distress, all intent on their own bargains.