Father was also trembling. He stepped towards Aunt Qin and leaned over her, gazing down. His arm was raised, as though about to strike.
‘I’m sick of you all!’ he cried. ‘Sick of this dull place! None of you know the meaning of respect.’
Shih watched in horror as he seized her shoulders, thrusting her towards his high-backed ebony chair. Great-great-grandfather’s chair. The Lord of Wei’s chair.
‘You’ll learn to enjoy your duty, you slut!’
Now Aunt Qin was moaning. Her distress brought Shih to his feet. Still he dared not move. Then something unaccountable happened. Father forced her face so that it pressed against the seat of the chair and stood behind her. He tore aside her clothes, revealing Aunt Qin’s white behind. Father was fumbling with his own robes. He took out a fierce, swollen, ugly thing that filled Shih with disgust. He knew it meant only harm.
Aunt Qin was pleading: ‘No! No! Please!’
Father grasped her buttocks and at last Shih found the courage to act. All he knew was that Aunt Qin was afraid, that he had promised to keep her safe. He bustled loudly through the door and into the hall. There he drew himself to his full height like the actors Father hired.
At once both adults noticed him. Father shamefacedly readjusted his clothes. The ugly thing vanished. Aunt Qin, sobbing and hiding her face, stumbled to join the little boy.
Though she was almost twice his size he felt tall and noble like Great-grandfather Yun Cai.
He spoke the first words in his head: ‘Aunty, come with me!
Father, it is very wrong of you to make Aunty cry!’
Before he could say more his feet rose from the ground. He found himself being half-carried, half-dragged out into the rain, up the slippery steps to the Top House and the family rooms where Mother was resting. When they reached the corridor Aunt Qin clasped him, weeping silently.
‘Brave boy,’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, you honourable boy!’
He swelled with pride. Now everyone was happy, or almost happy. Except for Father. But somehow, though he knew it was very wicked, he did not care for Father, and decided to avoid him. It was not difficult. That same afternoon Lord Yun rode to Chunming, accompanied by his friend, the tutor.
Then came bad times. Scattered memories from a scattered life. Aunt Qin leaving in the rain, her sedan carried by four drenched peasants. Mother weeping in the doorway, dabbing her eyes with a sleeve. One of the servants whispered that Aunty had gone to a monastery, that it was a great pity. Shih never saw her again and never dared ask after her. Aunt Qin had become unmentionable.
When Father returned from Chunming with an astrologer and a gentleman in an official’s uniform, he ordered that Shih should be locked in a store room with a tiny, high window.
Hours passed slowly and he heard raised voices in the house. It shocked him to hear Mother angry. He never imagined Mother could be so angry. Most of all he longed for Guang to play with him, but his brother was forbidden to come near.
Finally, the door was unbarred. The astrologer entered and said, after coughing repeatedly (he had a terrible cough), that a grave mistake had been made. Yun Guang, not he, was Father’s First Son and heir. He said that he feared Shih had been planted into Mother’s womb by a fox-fairy.
‘Where is Mother?’ Shih had wailed. ‘I must speak to Mother!’
The astrologer held his arm in a steady grip and led him outside. Bags were piled in the porch and a horse-drawn carriage stood in the rain. The astrologer ordered Shih to enter it. Then he banged on the roof and a whip cracked.
As they jolted away, Shih stared back at Three-Step-House.
Suddenly he cried out and tried to open the carriage door. His guardian struggled to hold him down. For Mother was running down the hill after him, pursued by Father and the tutor. She slipped in the mud, falling to her knees. The carriage entered Wei Village and he could no longer see her through the buildings and pig-sty fences, the mulberry trees and roof-tops.
An hour later they were in a strange country and the astrologer sat morosely beside him. Shih sensed the man was ashamed. The boy stared straight ahead, determined not to cry.
He always remembered what Aunt Qin had taught him: that he must be calm. Soon he would return to Three-Step-House.
Then he would play with his dear brother, Guang, on Wobbly-Watch-Tower-Rock, as they always had. People would remark how they were like each other’s shadow, and Shih would feel safe again. He hugged himself as the carriage struggled through mud and monsoon, heading always east, towards the capital.
*
Shih opened his eyes. Wiped away tears. How used he was to feeling the past as a dripping sore.
Then came a new thought, so uncomfortable he sensed it must be true. His reluctance to share his essences with Cao, finding excuses in work and its wearisome duties, stemmed from that moment in the Middle House.
Was that why no children filled the empty rooms of their home? Because of what he had glimpsed, so long ago? Because of Father?
He thought mournfully of Cao. And Aunt Qin. Of Lu Ying.
And Cao again.
The river, speckled by ripples and light, flowed ceaselessly. A family of grey geese paddled towards the jetty. Shih stared at them blankly until a commotion on the river made him stir.
A fleet had appeared round the sweeping bend of the river. A dozen warships limping toward the Twin Cities. Shih rose, shielding his eyes for a better view. Several seemed burned, their hulls splintered, decks stubbled with arrows. As he watched, a gaily-painted paddlewheel destroyer listed violently, the crew that cranked its many gears and handles emerging like desperate rats from hatches. Suddenly the sailors’ cries for help were drowned out by beating wings. The family of geese had taken fright, skimming over the wide expanse of water between Fouzhou and Nancheng. Shih hurried back in alarm to the Water Gate of Morning Radiance.
*
Cao’s eyes were downcast as she threaded through the streets –and not solely due to a respectable woman’s modesty. Her heart ached. She hesitated and straightened her dress. Hasty words could not be unspoken. Once uttered, they altered life’s flow. A storm may change a river’s course, washing away houses once snug and dry.
Perhaps she wished to punish herself. Really it had not been necessary to ignore Shih so steadily over the last few days. Cao was not the kind to sulk. Their guest was welcome to pre-eminence in pouting and fragile moods – along with all her other dainty ways. Mostly she wished for the reassurance of her husband’s face.
Her destination lay only a
li
or so from Apricot Corner Court. When she reached the Relief Bureau she found the medical orderly, Mung Po, anxiously watching the street.
‘Where is Dr Shih?’ she asked.
Mung Po bowed, upper teeth resting on his lower lip in a nervous grin. It was one of his affectations to treat the humble doctor’s wife like a dowager empress, yet today he spoke with more excitement than decorum.
‘Madam Cao, I had hoped you would answer that question.’
‘I thought he was here, Mung Po,’ she said. ‘Has he not attended his duties this morning?’
Mung Po shook his head. ‘Madam, I was about to enquire if he was sick.’
Cao flushed, wondering if her coldness had infected her husband with a malady. She knew how much he hated dissension.
‘No doubt he has been called upon urgently,’ she said. ‘I will sit and wait.’
The orderly made a show of polishing the Bureau’s best chair with his sleeve, then returned to examining the street from the doorway.
‘Mung Po, are you quite well?’ she asked.
‘Madam, forgive me. Dr Shih would not welcome me discussing official matters, even with your honoured self.’
‘Come now, there are no secrets between my husband and I.’
Mung Po nodded with relief.
‘Of course, Madam, forgive my stupidity! You are aware that Dr Fung inspected the Bureau a few days ago, on behalf of the guild? And that he claimed to have discovered irregularities in our accounts?’
Cao bit back an angry name for Dr Fung.
‘My husband mentioned it. He told me the good doctor would return in a month or so. He said there is nothing to worry about.’
‘Then Dr Fung deceived him,’ said Mung Po. ‘This morning no less a person than Dr Du Mau came here, accompanied by an official from the Prefecture. Dr Du Mau was very cold. He inspected the place from top to bottom and persuaded the official to confiscate all our ledgers. The word corrupt was whispered.’
Cao stood up angrily.
‘Dr Shih would never sell medicines intended for the poor!
Not like the superintendents of other Relief Bureaus I could mention. His honesty is a reproach to men like Dr Du Mau.
That is why they hate him. Du Mau is merely angry because the Pacification Commissioner has refused to let him set foot again on Peacock Hill!’
Mung Po shook his head.
‘I must tell you that some of our most valuable medicines have been disappearing. When I mentioned it to Dr Shih yesterday, he said the matter must be investigated.’
The pair stood in silence.
‘Dr Du Mau seemed quite triumphant as he left,’ added Mung Po.
‘His triumph will be short-lived,’ said Cao, uneasily recollecting Lu Ying’s demands for
cash
. But surely her husband could not stoop so low, unless, of course, there was some secret understanding between them to satisfy the girl’s requests. She stilled her thoughts. Horrible, unworthy thoughts.
‘I tell you, Mung Po,’ she continued. ‘If Dr Du Mau hopes to snare my husband, he would do well to consider who saved the Pacification Commissioner’s heir. And who is the brother of Captain Xiao. Though I am a woman, I am no fool and understand these things.’
The orderly seemed relieved. ‘Madam’s opinions are forth-right and wise,’ he said, bowing.
In her heart she was less sure.
‘Has the apprentice been here?’ she asked.
‘I thought he was with Master.’
‘Chung left Apricot Corner Court two hours ago. Did he not arrive at all?’
‘I have not seen him.’
‘Then he is at fault,’ she said. ‘I shall return home. Tell Dr Shih I would welcome his company.’
‘I understand,’ said the orderly.
‘Mung Po, have you told anyone else about Dr Du Mau’s visit?’
At this he seemed embarrassed.
‘My own foolishness, Madam, though great, does not extend so far.’
‘Of course. Forgive me. You are a good man, Mung Po.’
*
As her straightest way home led through the disreputable warren known as Xue Alley, Cao took a roundabout route. It led her to the Water Basin near the Water Gate of Morning Radiance. As usual, boats lined the dockside. Grain and goods were being unloaded from all over the Empire and beyond –even the fabled lands of Cham and Calicut, places entirely savage.
Wandering sailors attracted hawkers. The cries of their wares, tea or pastry, cheap wine or water from a secret spring blessed by Immortals, joined the rumble of barrels and bartering voices. No one troubled Cao as she passed through the crowd. Several people bowed respectfully to the good doctor’s wife. Where so many were low it was not hard to be high.
Outside a tavern with a bad reputation she encountered an ungratifying sight. Chung knelt beside a blanket on the dusty road, alongside half a dozen wastrels.
Cash
coins were stacked neatly before him. As he rolled the dice, worry crept across his plump face. The other gamblers’ piles of
cash
were higher than his own. One of the wastrels clapped his hands and made a great show of kissing a tin amulet. Chung ruefully pushed over the last of his
cash
.
When he glanced up, the apprentice encountered Cao’s reproachful gaze. He rose hurriedly and bowed, his floppy black fringe falling across his forehead.
‘Madam,’ he said. ‘I was just. . .’
She said nothing. His fellow-gamblers muttered among themselves, evidently sharing a little fun. It would do Dr Shih’s reputation no good for his apprentice to be seen gambling before a low tavern.
‘Why are you here?’ she whispered, leading him up the street.
‘Why are you not at the Relief Bureau?’
Chung shrugged miserably.
‘I have only just left there,’ he blurted. ‘At least, I. . .’ His voice trailed away. ‘I beg you not to tell Master!’
Cao shook her head doubtfully. Of course it was her duty to tell Shih. Yet their quarrel concerning Lu Ying lingered.
Chung’s disobedience might be the cause of yet another argument. All she longed for was peace in her household. For life to resume its old patterns – as it had been before Lu Ying arrived with her boxes and impossible lotus feet. Besides, Cao had a softness for Chung. He reminded her of Shih’s neediness, long ago, when he first came to Father’s shop in the capital.
Chung was also a child of misfortune. He had joined their household on his eleventh birthday, a week after his father’s suicide, his large brown eyes blinking slowly at the strange world of Apricot Corner Court.
He had been alone in Nancheng without friends or relatives, for Chung’s mother had rejoined her family in a village far to the south, taking three daughters with her. The journey had been paid for by Shih, who had sometimes drunk tea or wine with Chung’s father at one of the neighbourhood stalls, for he was an entertaining fellow and a fine talker. But a love of reckless wagers finally brought him to disgrace. On the night before his landlord and other debtors stripped the last of his family’s possessions, he had fastened a silk cord to the rafters and jumped from his own shop counter. Shih, in memory of his lost friend, purchased the indenture of Little Chung at a price they could barely afford. At first Cao had opposed such generosity. When she saw the boy’s big, liquid eyes she went the other way.
‘It’s little wonder your apprentice finds it hard to pound herbs,’ she had told Shih. ‘After all the terrible things he has seen.’
She was referring to the fact that Chung had discovered his father creaking and swaying.
‘I only set him simple tasks,’ countered her husband, mildly.
It was true. Shih was indulgent as masters go. Her own father, Dr Ou-yang, would have taken a bamboo rod to the boy.