Chung’s anger puzzled Dr Shih. As he stood in the doorway the youth’s portly face showed many emotions, none friendly, as though he somehow blamed his master for the Prefecture’s decision to conscript him.
‘Well then,’ Shih had said, hoping to lend a better heart.
‘Remember you are always welcome here. A single life consists of many risings and goings to bed. Before you know it, the war will be over and then you may return to us. I still have much to teach you.’
He had expected gratitude. Implicit in his words was a promise. Despite the apprentice’s manifold failings, his master was willing to indenture him. But Chung had scowled.
‘So you thought it best to ignore Madam Cao’s warning!’
said the youth, bitterly. ‘I won’t forget it! A greater doctor than you shall indenture me. Then you’ll be sorry.’
With that Chung carried his bag into the fading light and Shih had watched, lips parted to utter soothing words – though really he should be the angry one. Soon Chung would be sleeping in his new barracks, there was no changing that. Arguing with official decrees is like shaking a fist at the sun. Shih had wondered why his apprentice seemed to despise him, and self-doubt escaped its cage, so familiar and deep-rooted he could not reason with it.
Now Shih sat in the tower room, seeking meditation’s temporary comfort. Once again he laid open palms across his knees as Mung Po had instructed. One must feel solidity beneath one’s feet, connecting down, down through timber beams, down to the earth-truth. Yet his mind was full of monkey chatter. Questions. Half-answers. How could he evade thought? He imagined roots, thirsty for moisture, pointlessly railing at sandy soil for being dry. Was he such a plant? Only Cao understood his potential to bloom, his dear wife who he betrayed daily through lustful desires. Shih stirred uneasily, opening his eyes. Hurried footsteps were mounting the steep stairs to the tower room; then Cao’s head bobbed through the hatch.
‘Husband! Come quickly! Father has vanished!’
Shih reluctantly rose.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He is not in his room. I cannot find him anywhere.’
‘Come now, he never goes far.’
‘He is not to be found in Apricot Corner Court!’
Her eyes caught star-sheen from the open window. Shih followed her down the stairs and examined Father’s chamber by candlelight. The wide bowl of circling fish formed a yellow moon on the floor.
Those without clan must depend on their neighbours. Shih went from doorway to doorway and soon the residents of Apricot Corner Court gathered round the tree, many still in nightclothes. Clouds and constellations patterned the sky.
‘I humbly apologise for causing inconvenience,’ said Shih, holding up a guttering lamp. His neighbours waited nervously.
‘Lord Yun is missing,’ he continued. ‘You all know of his great infirmity. How could you not? It is of mind, not body. I beg you to help us search the ward. I am afraid he will come to harm.’
Old Hsu’s youngest son stirred uneasily.
‘What of the curfew?’ he asked.
Shih had no answer to that. Then Cao was at his elbow.
‘Husband, might not Captain Xiao’s name reassure the watchmen?’ she asked, quietly.
He was reluctant to rely, yet again, on the protection of his brother. Was he never to escape that shadow? Never become his own man?
The decision was taken out of his hands. Old Hsu took the lead, ordering his sons to explore Xue Alley while he searched nearby canal banks.
‘I shall go to the Water Basin,’ said Shih. ‘Madam Cao must remain here to await news.’
One by one they vanished into the humid night. Only Widow Mu hesitated.
‘Dr Shih,’ she said. ‘I could tell my son to look beneath the bridges, but I do not think Lord Yun is there.’
‘Then where is he?’
Widow Mu bowed.
‘You might find him across the canal.’
‘Do you mean in the neighbouring ward?’
‘I mean, sir, in Ping’s Floating Oriole House.’
She averted her eyes from his frown.
‘It’s only that Lord Yun once mentioned the place to my daughter. No doubt I am wrong.’
Dr Shih’s face was blank as he left Apricot Corner Court. He did not go to the Water Basin but crossed the humped canal bridge until he stood outside Ping’s establishment. Despite the curfew, a red lantern dangled from the lintel. Within he could hear laughter and the lazy twang of a lute. A woman’s voice wailed a song of betrayed love.
He rapped on the painted door. A wooden bolt scraped open and Ping’s doorman appeared. Shrewd eyes read the mood of both caller and street. Without a word, he was ushered inside.
Shih entered a central courtyard wreathed with flowering creepers. A dim lantern burned in obedience to the curfew restrictions. A few customers, mostly local wastrels protected from conscription by family influence, were listening to the singing girl and drinking yeasty, home-brewed wine. The proprietor rose to greet him and the two bowed. Ping was a wiry fellow whose heavy-lidded eyes hid many passions. Shih had often attended to the health of his girls, but never trusted their master.
‘Dr Shih! Most pleasant surprise, sir!’
‘Alas, my business is not pleasant,’ he replied stiffly. ‘I seek the dearest relative a man may have. If he is here, you will understand my meaning.’
‘Mysterious!’ exclaimed Ping, smiling at his guests, who chuckled.
Shih felt himself redden.
‘Then it seems I have disturbed you for no reason.’
The sound of giggling came from behind a screen, followed by a familiar laugh. Though it was unmannerly, Shih walked over and listened. He frowned at Ping’s insolent expression.
‘I have come to take him home,’ he said. ‘Perhaps your girls should now delight another customer.’
It was the brothel-keeper’s turn to glower.
‘I never disturb a guest,’ he said. ‘It’s bad for business.’
Shih reluctantly removed his hand from the screen.
‘Perhaps you will make an exception to your rule?’
Ping laughed hollowly and spread out his hands.
‘You can see for yourself how my business flourishes! Before the curfew my rooms were full. Now I treasure every customer like jade. Why not let an old man have fun? When his
cash
is gone, you may take him home with my blessing.’
The other guests applauded their host’s wit.
‘My brother, Captain Xiao, will be displeased,’ said Shih, quietly. ‘Gravely displeased.’
Ping licked his lips.
‘Ah! Captain Xiao is not a little doctor. He is a man one respects.’
Shih’s blush deepened. Indeed, the brothel-keeper had aimed well. How swiftly he resorted to his brother’s name! It had become almost a mannerism. Nevertheless, Shih slid open the door concealing his Father.
Within, Lord Yun lay on a divan, surrounded by three mirthful girls. The reason for their good humour – and Ping’s annoyance at losing such a customer – was obvious. A varnished, maple
cash
-box lay on the table. Shih recognised it as belonging to himself.
One of the girls raised her head from Lord Yun’s parted robe and Shih caught a glimpse of feeble ardour. He glanced away hurriedly, his legs suddenly weak. An image of the dark hall at Three-Step-House, of Aunt Qin pleading, made his heart clench unbearably. When he opened his eyes, the foul image lingered.
Lord Yun’s clothing had been hastily adjusted. The loathed reminder was out of sight.
Shih reached down for the
cash
-box. It was nearly empty. He scooped it up and held out a hand to Father. For a moment he thought Lord Yun would argue. But perhaps the old man also remembered that terrible afternoon, so long ago. Perhaps he was simply too drunk to resist. Shih gently pulled him to his feet.
Pausing only to check Lord Yun had his shoes on, he led him shuffling though the courtyard full of curious eyes. Ping’s mouth opened mockingly until the doctor’s expression cut him short. Bowing, he followed them to the entrance, murmuring a hope that Dr Shih’s honoured father had enjoyed himself.
When they reached Apricot Corner Court, Shih slackened his pace. A platoon of Watchmen were approaching in the distance. Without a word he bundled Lord Yun inside and closed the heavy door.
‘Do not speak!’ he hissed.
Inside the shop they found Cao waiting. Shih wiped moist palms on his robes.
‘Your behaviour is unseemly, Father,’ he said. ‘You waste our
cash
when what little we have is needed for food. Surely you are aware that the stipend we receive from Wang Ting-bo scarcely feeds Lu Ying, let alone us. We have nothing to spare!
Then you blatantly defy the curfew. Even now our neighbours are searching Water Basin Ward, at risk to themselves, for we feared you were in danger. And to visit a haunt of criminals! It diminishes us all.’
If he expected remorse, the old man’s bloodshot glare taught him better. ‘Hah!’ jeered Lord Yun. ‘Where is Guang? Where is my only son?’
‘I am also your son,’ said Shih, icily.
Then, provoked beyond endurance, he emptied his heart as an archer will fire frantically until his quiver is bare.
‘I am your firstborn! I am the true heir to Wei Valley and Three-Step-House! Do not talk to me of
only
sons! This game of not remembering will stop, Father! It will stop now!’
Lord Yun laughed scornfully but Shih detected a flicker of unease.
‘I will not listen to Bayke’s lies,
Doctor
! You shame my ancestors by pretending to be my son. If you were a man you would be fighting Khan Bayke! You would avenge our ancestors. You cannot be my son.’
Shih’s expression was strange throughout this tirade. Yet his hands were busy, preparing an infusion from a jar hidden in a secret drawer beneath the counter.
‘If you were my son,’ continued Lord Yun. ‘You would have possessed your concubine! I’ll do it for you. And I always get my way.’
Shih spooned more herbs into the cup. Then he hesitated.
Was it too much? One had to be careful. But he must silence that vile, taunting voice. He dipped the spoon and stirred the infusion. While he worked, his eyes did not stray from Lord Yun’s angry face. He could sense the demons inside the man were weakening.
‘I am your firstborn son,’ he repeated. ‘Father, you are full of odious deceit!’
Cao shrieked in distress, covering her face. To abuse one’s father was to defy the law. A strange sense of power filled Shih.
With it came cruelty.
‘Do you remember Aunt Qin?’ he asked. ‘I sensed it in you earlier. Both of us shared the same thought. Oh, you remember her very well! And that afternoon in the monsoon when I found you with her.’
Lord Yun bristled as a child will, his old eyes filling with tears. He hovered between bluster and defiance.
‘Swallow this,’ ordered Shih.
He held a porcelain cup chased with blue dragons to his father’s lips. The old man gulped, once, twice, then stood panting in the dark shop. Cao moaned.
‘Lead Father to bed, wife,’ said Shih. ‘I’ve had enough of him.’
Already the thin figure was drooping and it required both of them to help him to his chamber.
Shih stood for a while by the door, candle in hand, watching the dark shapes of the circling fish and listening to the pattern of Lord Yun’s breathing. Then he closed the door and went wearily to the seat beneath the apricot tree. One by one he greeted the returning searchers, assuring them Lord Yun was quite safe, and that his whole family were in their debt.
Old Hsu came back last of all. The fan-maker grunted when Shih told his news and mentioned Ping’s establishment.
‘There’s no fool like an old fool,’ he replied. ‘At my age you hope people forgive you for it.’
Shih watched him enter his house. The first rays of dawn made the rooftops glow.
The next day Dr Shih awoke to dread. Surely punishment must follow his unfilial conduct. But when, after a tentative knock, he entered the old man’s room, he found Lord Yun in good humour. Small birds twittered in the eaves outside. A warm breeze wafted water smells from the canal through the open window. Shih bowed awkwardly.
‘I take it Honoured Father has rested?’
Lord Yun looked up from combing his straggly hair.
‘No thanks to you. But I had a strange dream.’ He smiled a secret smile. ‘A very sweet dream indeed.’
Shih’s eyebrows raised. Could Father have so soon forgotten Ping’s brothel? Perhaps the medicine he had drunk possessed deep powers. A single dose of the infusion – one familiar to all learned doctors but seldom deployed for fear of unexpected consequences – seemed to remove unwelcome recollections as a broom sweeps away ash. Shih politely withdrew, reluctant to rake the embers of last night’s quarrel.
All day this strange circumstance tinctured his thoughts.
Dangerous knowledge is not easily forgotten. Amazing the old man could be so easily tamed! A simple draught, regularly ingested, might restore peace to his household. And he knew enough herbalists to ensure a plentiful supply. Except Shih doubted the virtue of such a remedy. Was he, the son, to reduce the parent to a state of childhood? The consequences for Father’s essential breaths were also doubtful. His clutch on sanity, already insecure, might weaken further. Certainly Lord Yun would develop cravings for larger doses, until he begged his son in a plaintive voice for just a little more of the herb, always a little more, in return for being good.
The possibility of such power – or revenge – attracted Shih in an unwholesome way. He retreated to the tower room, anxious to hide his feelings in clouds of meditation. Yet a hot sun peeps through any cloud.
*
A week passed. One twilight Dr Shih left the gatehouse of Apricot Corner Court, a full bag on his shoulder. Lately his duties at the Relief Bureau had dwindled almost to nothing. As summer rains dampened General A-ku’s tactics so the stream of wounded shrank to a trickle. More importantly, Dr Du Tun-i had tightened his hold on the Relief Bureau, finding little for Shih to do. As Mung Po remarked, meaning to be kind, the new wave breaking on the shore washes away its predecessor’s foam.
At first Shih had struggled to maintain his former position until the futility of his efforts became obvious. Besides, there was no denying Dr Tun-i possessed virtues. A plentiful supply of medicine flowed from his influential uncle; and the younger man displayed a talent for administration notably lacking in Shih. Never before had the North Medical Relief Bureau’s ledgers appeared so correct – even when funds floated across the river to the Du family mansion in Fouzhou.