Oracle Bone

by Lydia Kwa

  The Emperor’s hand was shaking as he pointed at the official. “You, why do you hesitate to report this piece of alarming news? Do you not understand that I am a benevolent ruler? That my consort and I have the country’s welfare at heart?”

  “Your Majesty, Your Highness! I beg your forgiveness! I’ve been stunned by the recent revelations. I was not informed of the extent of the crimes until last week. I am shocked that such crimes have been perpetuated in the Vice Hamlet!”

  “What has been the delay? Please explain yourself fully. Do not waste our time,” Wu Zhao said sternly.

  “There were several crimes committed over the past few years, but for some reason I have yet to discover, the news has not reached the authorities,” the official said. “It was only because I myself was, uh, visiting the Vice Hamlet last week, on a, a personal matter, and I was told … by one of the courtesans about the infant deaths. Her sister is one of the midwives who has attended many of the pregnant women over this past decade.”

  “What have you discovered about the crimes?”

  “That no one else was present other than the woman giving birth and the midwife. Some midwives reported they saw a blue mist and some even swore they perceived a creature. They said that it had deep-set eyes and long limbs with claws. Oh, the word they used often—ugly. Yes, ugly.”

  The hairs on the back of Wu Zhao’s neck stood on end. “What does your courtesan friend say? Did you speak to her sister?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. I took it upon myself to speak with the midwife the next morning. She was the one who told me those details, and then I spoke to another midwife who reported the same thing.”

  “But why wasn’t this made known to us?”

  The official shook his head. “They said they were afraid that this demon would kill them if they reported its presence. They felt that the demon was only interested in the young babies’ souls, so they went to temples to pray and use talismans, but the midwives aren’t certain if their attempts to protect future babies have helped, since such deaths are still occurring.”

  “Sorcery! There must be a sorcerer doing such things in our midst,” exclaimed Emperor Li Zhi, his right hand still shaking vigorously.

  The official looked down nervously. Would the Emperor and Empress punish him?

  Wu Zhao whispered to Li Zhi, whose face turned red immediately. He dismissed the official as he continued to listen to the Empress. After Wu Zhao finished, the Emperor announced to their retinue: “We will postpone making a decision about this matter.”

  Later that afternoon, in the Emperor’s private chambers, the Chancellor’s arrival was announced by the eunuch guard. Shangguan Yi knelt in front of the Emperor, touching his forehead to the floor.

  “I have sent for you because I am … not happy with Wu Zhao,” Li Zhi said. “You know she can be quite—how shall I say it—imposing?”

  “I understand, Your Majesty.” The Chancellor remained bowed, not yet lifting his head.

  “That is why I have summoned you. You may sit up.”

  The Chancellor watched the Emperor motion to the scribe, who passed a scroll to Shangguan Yi.

  “My spies inform me that it is very likely Wu Zhao’s lover Xie who has been behind the acts of sorcery leading to the deaths of the infants in the Vice Hamlet,” Li Zhi said.

  Shangguan Yi raised an eyebrow but kept his gaze lowered. What an interesting development. His mind raced ahead to the possible scenarios. It was the chance he had been waiting for, all these years, a chance to rid the court of that meddling vixen. “Your Majesty, what is your wish?”

  “I have drafted an edict. I want you to be in Court with me tomorrow, and I want you to suggest that I remove Wu Zhao as Empress because of suspected alliances with a sorcerer.”

  “Your Majesty … Are you saying you are now ready to demote the Empress?”

  “I’m tired of her complaints. Her excessive needs. Ridiculous things like establishing Luoyang as a second capital. How could we keep running between two capitals?” He sighed and consoled himself with a loud inhalation of snuff.

  “Most expedient of you, Your Majesty.” Shangguan Yi bowed again and, raising himself up, bent at the waist as he continued to walk backward until he was close to the door.

  After the Chancellor left, Li Zhi’s maid brought him some tea. He whiled the afternoon away reading poetry and paid especial attention to Shangguan Yi’s poems. The elder statesman was a loyal subject, someone who had served his father, and now him. An Emperor must remember the partialities of his Ministers, he thought. Shangguan Yi had preferred the former Empress Wang. Such things couldn’t be helped. The whims of women. He had thought Wu Zhao was devoted to him. He would have done anything for her. But why would she become so besotted with the sorcerer Xie?

  He looked back down at one of Shangguan Yi’s poems, “Early Spring in Guilin Hall.”

  The pacing palanquin emerges from Bixiang Palace

  Clear singing regards the pool at Daiye

  Morning trees filled with warbling orioles

  Spring slopes swell with fragrance

  Li Zhi’s reverie was interrupted by a guard announcing the arrival of the Empress. He was conscious that the poem lay exposed and quickly flung a cushion over it. He was overcome with an intense dizziness.

  Wu Zhao strode in and sat beside him. She stroked his left ear, causing him to feel slightly aroused.

  “I’ve heard a rumour,” she said.

  “Rumour?” Li Zhi tried to suppress his anxiety.

  “That you’re trying to get rid of me!” Without delay, she felt for his testicles with both hands and squeezed hard. The pain was exquisite. He moaned, thinking of all the times she’d had him at her mercy.

  “Oh, no, no! That isn’t true at all!”

  “Well, then, why would this rumour be circulating?”

  Li Zhi cast a quick glance down at the cushion. An idea came to him.

  “My dear, you’re absolutely brilliant. Why, in fact …” He moved closer to whisper into her ear. “In fact, there is someone suggesting I get rid of you.”

  “I thought so!”

  “We mustn’t pay any attention to him.”

  Wu Zhao was livid. “Are you going to just ignore him? How absurd! My reputation is at stake. I could lose my position. And where would you be, if that were to happen? What if he put forth an edict and the other ministers were in support of it?”

  Li Zhi broke out in a cold sweat. A sour smell rose from his body. “Of course, you’re right. You think many steps ahead. All right, if the man is foolish enough to present an edict, I will make sure to punish him.”

  “Squash the man before he even gets a chance to present an edict!” said, her voice raised.

  “Yes, yes,” Li Zhi whimpered.

  Shangguan Yi was sound asleep when the guards came to the door of the outer courtyard. He didn’t even hear the loud banging and the shouts of the guards ordering the servants to open the door. By the time the maidservant shook him awake, the guards had already entered his bedchamber and loomed over him.

  One of the guards unrolled a scroll and read aloud: “By the order of His Majesty, Emperor Li Zhi, you have been found guilty of sedition, of plotting to overthrow the Empress Wu Zhao as part of a plot to restore honour to the relatives of the former Empress Wang. You are thus to be apprehended and executed. Your son, your only male heir, will also be executed, as punishment for treason.”

  Shangguan Yi gasped. He couldn’t believe it. Had this been a plot on the Emperor’s part all along? He thought of the edict lying on the side table and panicked. As the guard roughly yanked him out of bed and shackled him with irons at his wrists and ankles, he trembled. The other guard found the edict. “What have we here?”

  Shangguan Yi had lost control and wet himself. The guards snickered. The Chancellor hung his head in shame as they dragged him through the main hall, across the courtyard, and out the front door, watched by all the servants. He was forced into a carriage and ta
ken away to be executed.

  THE INNER PALACE AT TAIJIGONG, NORTH CENTRAL CHANG’AN

  By the light of a single candle, she marvelled at the luminescent quality of his skin. Could she be imagining that his whole body had become more supple and younger? His skin was like that of a young woman’s or a boy’s.

  “What is your secret?” She placed a hand against his sternum as he moved inside her, moving through her, as if he existed elsewhere and she too was being transported to some mysterious place.

  She closed her eyes and wished he would show her where he had gone. Although he didn’t answer her, the visions arrived slowly, as if she were being taken through a tunnel, a long burrow through the forest. She heard a low, not unpleasant humming. When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. His eyes gleamed with a greenish glow, and he seemed not as solid. She became even more excited. When she closed her eyes again and climaxed, she felt that wild careening spiral into nothingness. An utter relief. Nothing mattered for a few moments, except this free-floating pleasure.

  He rolled off her, still erect, and she, too tired to help him, looked at him as he made himself come. A sweet fragrance exuded from him. What was that scent? she wondered as she inhaled deeply. It smelled fresh. Like skin that had never been sullied by the dross of this world. The word that came to mind was “pure,” yet she didn’t understand why that would be the association. It was a familiar scent, but she wasn’t sure where she’d encountered it before.

  He lay on his back and fell asleep, or she thought so. But suddenly he turned toward her, eyes wide open. “The time is fast approaching when I will encounter our enemy and gain possession of the oracle bone.” He reached out and grasped her chin firmly. “Promise me that you will reward me for my efforts.”

  “My sweet, of course you will be rewarded.”

  “My Empress, we will conquer all those who hate us,” he said, still holding tightly onto her chin.

  She shook on hearing his words. There was such a resolute force behind them.

  OUTSIDE DA FA TEMPLE, WEST CENTRAL CHANG’AN, THREE DAYS BEFORE FEAST OF ALL SOULS

  It was a lovely late afternoon, the sunlight beaming down on them as they skirted through the woods, heading down a slope to the stream. They picked their favourite rocks to sit on quietly with eyes closed, their hands clasped in mudras in front of their bellies as they listened to the trickling sounds of the stream.

  After half an hour, Qilan opened her eyes and Ling, sensing this, followed suit.

  “This is a special day for us, Ling. I am going to teach you a powerful spell. You are only to invoke this spell under rare circumstances. Perhaps only once.”

  “What is this spell?”

  “It is the spell for ending life.”

  Ling was startled. “Why would I want or need this spell?”

  “As I said, under very rare circumstances.”

  Qilan leaned over, cupped her hands over Ling’s right ear, and whispered the spell.

  “When I whisper it like that, it is not being invoked. The important thing with this spell is, as with other spells, the intent and force with which it is uttered. The purity of the person—the being—casting this spell is critical.”

  “Do you mean it cannot work if it’s whispered?”

  “It can be invoked that way. But again, it’s the combination of the intent and the energy behind the spell that activates it. So one could whisper, and with focused intent, it would work.”

  “But why would I ever need to use it?”

  “When I say it is for ending life, what I mean is that it ends the physical form of that existence. One only uses it when there is tremendous suffering and the afflicted being asks for it so that there is release.” Ling listened to Qilan’s voice, resolute but without tension. “This spell is for when a being needs to be sent into its spirit form; to linger any longer in its physical body would prolong its suffering.” She paused. “Do you remember the spell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Repeat it to me. Whisper it, so that no creatures around us can hear.”

  Ling repeated it to Qilan. When Qilan was satisfied that Ling had learned the spell, she stood up and led the way through the woods as they ran back to the temple. When they reached the street, they crossed it in three breaths and, when no one was looking, scaled up to the roof, then down into the courtyard outside Qilan’s study.

  Qilan closed the doors to her study. “The time has come for me to leave.”

  Ling’s heart gave a lurch. “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I must travel to the place where my father had been possessed.”

  “But … for how long?” stammered Ling.

  “Not sure.”

  “What if—” She didn’t dare say it.

  “If I don’t succeed?”

  Ling nodded. Her heart pounded furiously.

  Qilan smiled. “I don’t know, my dear.”

  Ling curled her hands into fists. “I want to go with you.”

  “No. You can’t.”

  “Why not? You went with me to Huazhou!”

  “That was different.”

  Ling looked directly into Qilan’s eyes. She needed to speak her mind. Even though Qilan was her benefactor, she wasn’t going to stay silent on such an important matter. In Qilan’s eyes, she saw her own face partially reflected back to her.

  “You said I have a close connection with the plastron,” Ling said. “Couldn’t that come in handy? You’ve always taught me not to let preconceived ideas get in the way of what wisdom offers. When I faced Shan Hu and fought him, I let go of my old ideas. Up until that moment, and for all the years before that, I always believed I had to face the villain and kill him. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

  “Are you saying I might be mistaken about going to face Gui alone?”

  “Yes.” Ling’s tone was firm, but she was far from feeling confident.

  After what seemed like a long pause, Qilan took hold of Ling by her shoulders. “No, you can’t go. This is my journey. Mine alone. My father lost himself for my sake, so now I must fulfill my karma—not so much to save his life, but to liberate his soul.”

  “Let’s ask the oracle bone!”

  Qilan sighed and shook her head. “It would be dangerous. And you are needed here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You … are to succeed Abbess Si one day, if you wish to.”

  “Who decided that?” She felt a rush of heat through her face. “I mean, no one asked me. Now you’re insisting I can’t follow you. You saved my life, and you want me to repay you by staying here? Shouldn’t I be loyal to you?”

  Qilan turned her face away and stepped out through the doors into the courtyard. “You mustn’t fall prey to such rigid ideas of loyalty,” Qilan said, her back to Ling. “Remember that vision you had of being in the study here, but I wasn’t present?”

  Ling nodded.

  “It was a vision of you carrying on my legacy of teaching and serving here.”

  “I can’t imagine that—I just can’t believe it.”

  “Trust me. Trust the vision. The Abbess recognized the greatness in you.”

  “Greatness?” Ling laughed.

  “There are times when one must accept that to repay a debt is not straightforward; instead, consider that you can share the benefit of your gifts with many others by assuming the role of Abbess one day.”

  “I thought you said we have choices—that we always get to choose.”

  “Yes, it’s true. Completely. Consider then what other choices you would want to make and why.”

  Ling’s body began to tremble. This felt familiar. It was exactly how she’d felt when her parents had been killed. How her body shook then—for days, for weeks. She was afraid once again in a way she hadn’t felt for four years. She took a deep breath. “How will you defeat Gui?”

  “I won’t need to defeat the demon. I believe I’ve tol
d you, I’ll be going to save it.”

  “What?” She didn’t remember Qilan saying that.

  “I’m going to follow an intuition based on what I’ve learned these past four years spent with you and the turtle plastron. Why—I’ve known you as long as I’ve known the plastron!” Qilan smiled and her eyes shone as they filled with tears. It made her uncomfortable to cry; she never quite understood where all the human emotions came from. “The turtle plastron is a different kind of oracle than what people have expected it to be,” she continued. “It certainly hasn’t behaved in the way it was expected to. Humans have vast, ambitious notions of how to harness the universe for their own purposes. But what if the bones of other creatures have lives that assert themselves in extraordinary ways? What if they carry wisdom beyond human beings’ narrow conceptions of what is acceptable?”

  Ling, stunned by Qilan’s words, walked over to her benefactor and tentatively reached out her hands to grasp Qilan’s. “Please come back, Qilan.”

  “We will meet again, in this life or the next. Don’t be afraid.” Qilan drew Ling to her and held her tight. She had passed on all that could be imparted to this dear one.

  They closed their eyes and were silent as they held onto each other. They listened to the sounds that filtered to them from beyond the walls of the temple. Occasional vendors shouted out what they were selling. Children squealed in delight as they played their games, unfettered by cares.

  Later that night, Qilan went to the stables to look for Old Chen. He was cleaning out the stalls. It was a messy task. “Our young girl is grown up now,” she said.

  Old Chen chuckled and continued to scrub down the sides of a stall. He was used to the stench but had been impressed from the beginning that she’d never minded the smell. “You’ve come out of your way to the stables to tell me this, did you?”

  Qilan went to her stallion, patting and speaking softly to him.

  He wasn’t at all surprised that Qilan ignored his question. Sister Orchid never felt obliged to answer questions just because she was asked. He stopped what he was doing and, placing his hands on his hips, watched Qilan as she continued to talk to her horse. He could never understand what she said to the creature. Old Chen sensed there was something important she wanted to say, but there was no way he could prompt her to say it any sooner than when she was ready to.