Breaking Bamboo

by Tim Murgatroyd

  ‘Now I really must return to Apricot Corner Court,’ said Lu Ying. ‘If nothing else, your Honoured Father cannot bear a late meal.’

  Madam Cao had to agree with that.

  ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘If you and Madam Hsu will push the wheelbarrows of herbs home, I will take care of the tools. Now I must seek out Dr Shih and ask what is to be done with our harvest.’

  The three women trudged through the Water Gate of Morning Radiance. Lu Ying and Old Hsu’s Wife launched their load in the direction of Apricot Corner Court, leaving Madam Cao at a crossroad. Her destination had been unthinkable only a few months before.

  *

  The triumph of the Ineffable Winged Relief Fleet lay in its cargo. Supplies and goods had been packed into every conceivable space in the ships – provisions worth twenty thousand Mongol lives.

  General A-ku realised this. He knew the siege must now endure for at least another year. His army’s heroism had drowned in the wide moats surrounding Nancheng and Fouzhou. Without new tactics, the campaign might drag on for decades. Meanwhile his best troops and horses succumbed to strange illnesses in the damp air. It was a climate of endless disappointment.

  Yet the siege lines were maintained. Although Mongol horsemen marauded around the Twin Cities the blockade remained porous, messages from the Imperial court winning through.

  Another new Pacification Commissioner was sent to replace the affable gentleman who had perished with Admiral Qi-Qi, but was seized by the Mongols when using a previously secure route into the Twin Cities. So Wang Ting-bo remained supreme arbiter of all civil and military affairs in Nancheng Province.

  He made great efforts to reward those who had ever proved useful to the Wang clan, and that included a certain doctor.

  At the North Medical Relief Bureau, Madam Cao found Mung Po performing a rite before a cheap woodcut print of the Yellow Emperor. Snakes of incense rose. The Chief of the North Medical Relief Bureau watched closely, along with his Assistant. They had just concluded a hopeless application of the moxa and needed divine favour to pull the patient through.

  Madam Cao nodded politely to both men, but especially the Bureau Chief. The Assistant glanced nervously at his superior, evidently concerned the ritual had been ruined.

  ‘Mung Po, leave off that for now!’ commanded the Chief.

  ‘Start the rites again when there are no females present.’

  ‘I have come to tell you all the herbs have been gathered,’ said Madam Cao.

  ‘You have worked too hard!’ said the Chief, in a voice of quiet concern. ‘Go home and rest. The other ladies must be exhausted, too.’

  The Assistant Supervisor readily concurred with the opinion of his Chief.

  ‘Perhaps Mung Po could escort Madam Cao home?’ he suggested, diffidently.

  ‘That will not be necessary, Dr Du Tun-i,’ replied Shih. ‘I shall return with Madam Cao to Apricot Corner Court.’

  Then he turned to the new Assistant Supervisor. ‘Please ensure all the patients are examined before their next meal.’

  Dr Du Tun-i nodded and the Chief of the North Medical Relief Bureau left with his wife. Dr Shih’s plain, homespun blue robes were stained with spilt medicine and blood; Madam Cao’s clothes were still muddy. Yet their demeanours possessed a dignity and inner peace lost to them for many months.

  Dr Shih’s restoration as Bureau Chief had occurred several weeks earlier. Pacification Commissioner Wang Ting-bo ordered it as a reward for Shih’s impersonation of Captain Xiao, on condition the promotion was accomplished discreetly.

  His Excellency did not wish it known that the city’s saviour had in fact been a humble doctor on trial for unfilial behaviour. The people needed heroes in the midst of their suffering, as simple food requires salt.

  The high official who communicated the good news to Dr Shih had added: ‘Dr Du Mau and other influential members of the Physicians Guild are unhappy that you have been given back your old position. I believe one Dr Du Tun-i is the current Bureau Chief? No doubt a relative of Dr Du Mau?’

  ‘Indeed he is,’ replied Shih.

  ‘He shall be dismissed at once,’ said the official, airily.

  Shih had hesitated. The young man had saved his brother’s life by staunching Guang’s wounds on the dockside at Nancheng. Because of this he could not welcome Dr Du Tun-i’s complete demotion.

  ‘Perhaps, sir,’ he said. ‘He may be retained as my assistant at an appropriate salary?’

  The official had looked surprised, then yawned.

  ‘As you wish. His Excellency is minded to grant any reasonable request. Personally, I advise you to get rid of the fellow.

  He’ll only cause you trouble later.’

  Yet Dr Shih had got his way, however disregardful of future trouble.

  Madam Cao considered these changes as they walked through Water Basin Ward. Shih stared straight ahead, apparently lost in thought. Since his release from the Prefectural gaol he often seemed distant, even cold. Cao believed he had not fully returned from that dreadful place; a great part of his spirit, perhaps the best part, still languished in chains.

  ‘Husband,’ she said, timidly. ‘You walk so fast! I can barely keep up.’

  He slowed and frowned.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘My life is all hurry – and yet I travel in circles! Forgive me.’

  ‘You are tired, that is all,’ she said. ‘You work too hard.’

  Shih glanced at her keenly.

  ‘I am grateful for your help at the Relief Bureau,’ he said. ‘It reminds me of when we first married. Ah, what happy times those were! We were with each other from dawn until dark.’

  ‘I remember,’ she said, softly.

  Cao’s eye fell upon a tea-stall near their home. For a moment the couple exchanged looks of surprise. The stall had been closed for over a year, a victim of the long hostilities. Today its banners were out, a little faded perhaps, as were the paper and bamboo umbrellas on poles bearing the characters Eternal Refreshment. It had been a favourite haunt when they first came to Nancheng and could afford no better entertainment.

  ‘Husband,’ she said. ‘Let us take tea at Mao’s stall, like we used to do!’

  Dr Shih hesitated.

  ‘What of Guang?’ he asked.

  ‘His usual nurse takes care of him very diligently.’

  At this his face darkened. She wondered at his exact feelings.

  ‘It would please me so much to take tea,’ she said, without a trace of wheedling, though her eyes combined reproach and entreaty.

  ‘Then the matter is settled,’ he said. ‘Besides, Mao needs at least one customer.’

  Yet the stallholder turned out to be a stranger who had bought the business from Mao in exchange for millet rations.

  As for tea, he had only a few leaves. He explained that he merely wished to try out the banners and umbrellas for when peace returned.

  ‘I beg you to sit for a while,’ he continued. ‘You shall be my first honoured customers! I shall return with boiling water.’

  Cao and Shih waited while he rushed to a neighbouring courtyard, kettle in hand. It was a situation to provoke a smile, then laughter.

  ‘I hope you are not thirsty,’ said Shih, discreetly reaching out his arm so that their sleeves touched. ‘We may be waiting until the siege ends.’

  She blushed at this immodest public display but did not remove her arm.

  ‘It’s pleasant enough here,’ he said, looking round.

  Indeed it was. The chill wind from Mount Wadung had shifted. North Canal Street glowed softly in the autumn sunshine. A few people passed but Water Basin Ward, normally full of bustle, was unusually peaceful. The stall overlooked North Canal, its motionless waters covered by a delightful carpet of lily pads.

  Cao looked into her husband’s lined face. He was watching the progress of a colourful moth over the lilies. At once she thought of Lu Ying and grew uncomfortable.

  ‘I saw Widow Mu yesterday,’ she said. ‘She was near
Ping’s Floating Oriole Hall. I saw no sign of her daughter, Lan Tien, the poor girl. Or her son.’

  ‘It is no longer Ping’s house,’ said Shih quietly, as though recollecting something too unpleasant to discuss. ‘He died in the same prison I walked away from. Dearest Cao, how can that be? Why does one man live and another die?’

  ‘I do not know,’ said Cao. ‘No one knows.’

  They sat in silence for a moment. There was still no sign of the stallholder.

  ‘I wonder how Widow Mu feeds her family now,’ said Cao.

  ‘It seems hard the children should suffer.’

  Shih pressed his arm more warmly against her own.

  ‘We cannot help them,’ he said. ‘We have too little to share.

  In any case, we dare not. It would dishonour Old Hsu’s spirit and offend his relatives.’

  ‘You are right,’ sighed Cao, relishing his touch. It seemed so long since she had been touched with affection. Warmth flowed through her whole body and she forgot her sympathy for Widow Mu. His touch emboldened her to probe: ‘Have you noticed how Guang gains in strength so quickly?’ she said. ‘I’m sure we may thank his nurse.’

  Dr Shih grew thoughtful again. His arm, though still apparently resting against Madam Cao’s, imperceptibly moved away.

  The stallholder returned in triumph with a full kettle and found two troubled faces awaiting eternal refreshment. Even after a golden brew of dried lily flowers and jasmine, saved for such a propitious occasion, they merely nodded when he refused their offer of payment – so that he wondered if his first customers were lucky after all.

  *

  After washing in a basin of cold water and scrubbing with a liquid soap of rose leaves, Lu Ying sat in her room to apply make-up. What little she possessed was poor stuff: a face powder of crushed chalk and, for the eyes, a dark pigment of ground charcoal. Yet her face had gained a natural colour from unaccustomed exercise. And unlike many of the neighbouring courtyards, at least no one in the Yun household starved.

  Of course this was Wang Ting-bo’s doing. One of several signs of gratitude he showered on the patient recovering in Apricot Corner Court. Two burly guardsmen had even been posted at the front gate in case A-ku’s spies attempted an assassination. Yet Lu Ying wondered if he possessed other motives for his generosity; motives connected to herself that he wished to keep from his ever-vigilant First Wife.

  Lu Ying’s room was next door to Guang’s bedchamber.

  Because the walls were made of paper and strips of bamboo she heard nearly everything that transpired in there. The patient’s days passed in fitful rest: sometimes groaning and occasionally snoring, but usually in a state of feverish half-sleep. When he cried out in his sleep a troubled spirit was revealed.

  Her toilet complete, Lu Ying sat for a while and rested. She was tired after her labours outside the Water Gate of Morning Radiance. Her thoughts, usually darting like restless fish, were sluggish. Closing her eyes she recalled the last few weeks as a succession of flurried feelings, for she habitually reasoned through her emotions.

  The terrible battle following the arrival of the Ineffable Winged Relief Fleet had affected more than just those bearing weapons.

  Wives and children, aging parents, all had waited fearfully for the outcome. Lu Ying grew more afraid with each explosion and cry of alarm. Finally, she convinced herself the city must fall, that all pretty girls would be rounded up and enslaved as concubines. Images of the Emperor’s own concubines, marched across freezing steppes set her heart racing. It would not happen to her. She would drown herself first.

  Lu Ying had remembered the Moon Goddess staring up from the waters of the canal when she was first banished to Apricot Corner Court. That had been a message. She understood it now. If the city fell, she must step through the watery doorway shown by the Goddess. She must weigh herself down with her few remaining silks and precious things, until the dark waters of the canal closed over her head. Perhaps she would be reborn as one of the Moon Goddess’s eternal handmaidens.

  Of course, it had not come to that. The Mongols had been driven back. Yet Lu Ying felt proud of her willingness to destroy herself rather than risk dishonour.

  A day or so after the victory, Dr Shih had been released from the Prefectural gaol, surprisingly unchanged by his ordeal except for a terrible sadness round the eyes. Gratitude towards her for securing his safety in prison made him bow exceptionally low; indeed, Lu Ying had feared Madam Cao might find fresh cause for jealousy.

  Of course, Shih had not returned alone. Captain Xiao had insisted, as soon as he woke from unconsciousness, on being carried to Apricot Corner Court in a litter so he might die among his own family. After that, Shih tended his brother’s wounds day and night; often she heard his soothing voice as Guang moaned with pain. Yet Lu Ying detected a hidden reserve between the two brothers, for all their apparent closeness, and wondered how to explain it.

  That had been a month ago. Lu Ying had watched the cortege of four guardsmen carry Guang to a chamber next to her own. At that time the city was awash with wounded.

  Processions of wheelbarrows carried them to temporary hospitals through the constant rain. Although Dr Shih stayed beside his brother’s bedside, he was desperately needed at the North Medical Relief Bureau, and would hurry there whenever Guang fell into a deep slumber, so that he barely found time to rest at all. Then Madam Cao would replace him at the wounded man’s side, tending both Guang and her Honoured Father-in-law.

  It soon became obvious Lord Yun had once again retreated into madness. He spent days staring at his bowl of circling minnows – anything larger having been eaten – sometimes with a cunning expression, but more often murmuring spells. At such times, Lu Ying overheard him muttering the name ‘Bayke’ over and over.

  All in all, they were a joyless household.

  One afternoon she found Madam Cao pacing round the shuttered shop. It had been eighteen hours since Dr Shih last slept.

  ‘Madam Cao,’ she said, brightly. ‘May I prepare tea?’

  Lu Ying was excessively proud of her new tea-making skills.

  ‘No, no,’ said Madam Cao, dabbing her eyes.

  ‘I beg you to sit down,’ said Lu Ying.

  ‘How can I rest?’ demanded Cao. ‘I am so worried! Heaven knows what miseries Dr Shih suffered in prison! His essential breaths are horribly unbalanced. He told me his yin and yang devour one another like wolves! Yet he works and works – and never listens when I beg him to rest.’

  ‘His is a noble labour,’ offered Lu Ying. As the phrase sounded wise and impressive, she added: ‘A very noble labour.’

  ‘If it kills him, how noble will he look then?’

  The tears rising in Madam Cao burst forth, like seeds from a swollen pod. Several planted themselves in Lu Ying’s heart.

  ‘If only I could go to the Relief Bureau and help him!’ sniffed Madam Cao. ‘I could at least ensure he eats properly. But Brother-in-law and Lord Yun’s meals can hardly be entrusted to a stranger.’

  The former concubine watched Cao’s plain face – positively ugly when distressed – and wondered how she could ever have compared this kind, sad lady to Wang Ting-bo’s shrewish wife.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she offered. ‘Perhaps – if you will trust me with so important a duty, perhaps I might undertake those tasks? Then you could join your husband at the Relief Bureau.’

  Madam Cao had looked at her doubtfully.

  ‘How will you cook? Though the Governor provides rice and vegetables for Captain Xiao, one must still know how to prepare them.’

  ‘That is simple,’ said Lu Ying. ‘Old Hsu’s Wife can cook all the meals in return for a small share.’

  ‘What of the medicines? Dr Shih is insistent they should be administered at fortunate times of day. That is why he rushes back and forth between Apricot Corner Court and the Relief Bureau!’

  ‘Also simple,’ said Lu Ying. ‘You shall write a list of the times and I shall learn it by heart. When the monks beat the hou
r on their drums, I shall hear and know what to do.

  Really, the matter is quite simple.’

  Still Cao had hesitated.

  ‘I must ask Dr Shih.’

  When she did so he reluctantly agreed. Henceforth, Cao went to the North Medical Relief Bureau to assist him, along with a dozen other nurses. Twice a day he returned to Apricot Corner Court, taking his brother’s pulse and sniffing his breath.

  As he detected no cause for alarm, recovery was allowed to find its own pace. He nodded gratefully at Lu Ying for her help, and she was pleased to be appreciated for something other than her usual attractions.

  Those attractions had a predictable effect on Lord Yun. As soon as he realised Cao and Shih were away from the house, he offered many gallant attentions. Lu Ying realised she must win a decisive victory over him or endure a siege as tenacious as that maintained by A-ku’s horde.

  At first she had no idea how to repulse the old man. It would show the utmost disrespect to Dr Shih, as her host, to offer rudeness. Then again Lord Yun was insensitive to subtlety.

  One day she was measuring out Yun Guang’s medicine in the shuttered shop when she became aware of an acrid smell.

  Turning quickly, she found Lord Yun directly behind her, watching with bright, intense eyes.

  ‘Sir!’ she exclaimed, to hide her confusion. ‘It is unseemly to approach a lady in this. . . and stand so close.’

  He laughed hoarsely. Lu Ying detected the odour of cheap brandy on his breath. Somehow, despite the siege, he had gained access to strong wine!

  ‘You are no lady, my dear,’ he said. ‘I know exactly what you are. Come to my chamber. I have something to show you.’

  For a moment Lu Ying wavered. She found it hard to refuse the command of a venerable gentleman. All her life she had been taught to obey those senior to one’s self. Besides, there was something about Lord Yun, a force she could not explain. . . Yet her spirit revolted against conceding to his request. In a flash of inspiration she said quite scornfully: ‘I do not believe Bayke would allow that!’

  Lu Ying barely understood what she meant but the effect was immediate. Lord Yun’s looming face shrank back. His fierce gaze was replaced by hurried blinking. Even his handsome mouth, a moment before curving at the corners in a complacent smile, trembled a little.