by Jeremy Han
In a rustic place like this, the rooms did not have proper wooden doors, only a curtain. Long Wu ignored the sounds of snoring and rutting, and focused on the fat man’s approach. No one else heard, or if they did, could not care less. There was no law in this place after all. Half his mind wanted to go up, and warn her but something held him back to watch the unfolding drama. Something told him she could handle it. The fat man burst into her room, charging through the hanging curtain with the rest following his lead.
He heard an unmistakable whizzing sound, and then a gurgling shout of pain and surprise. A masculine voice shouted, and then the clang of angry steel meeting. He dashed up the stairs with his own sabre drawn now. Another manly scream told him someone had died. By his calculation, there should be two more assailants. He entered the room, and saw her scimitar block one man’s determined assault. The two remaining men were not giving any quarters since their prey had turned hunter, and now they were fighting for their lives. She slashed and one of them jumped to a side and raised his weapon to strike. Long Wu drove his sabre hard into that man’s back, severing the spine, just as she cut open the throat of the other man as he fell under her relentless attack now that she no longer had to guard her flank.
The room smelled of iron and shit but no one came up. Everyone had heard the fighting, but midnight killings were common here. The next morning, no questions would be asked and everything would go back to normal. That’s what emboldened the men in the first place. They wanted to rape and kill her, but paid for it with their lives.
“I did not need your help.” She said, but there was no violence in her tone. She knew he was not one of them. Nevertheless, her scimitar remained in her hand.
“I hate bullies.” He replied.
“I hate rapists.” She said. He nodded his head. He surveyed the scene. Not bad. He was impressed. The fat man fell near the door, an arrow piercing his throat. The lady was expecting them. The fat man clearly did not expect to be welcomed by a cold iron tip. The rest died by various sword wounds. There would be no more guards for this convoy. All of them laid dead. And everyone in the inn knew what had happened. How did Long Wu know that? All the familiar sounds of snoring and rutting had stopped. The place was as quiet as a haunted house.
Then she went to work. She pulled down the pants of the fat man, and cut off his male organ before stuffing it into his mouth. She did the same for all of them. It was signal to everyone what was supposed to have happened to her, but did not -- fortunate for her, but unfortunate for them. He turned back to her.
“What are your plans?”
She shrugged.
“Join us. We need another good sword hand.”
“You are a convoy bodyguard?”
“Yes. And a fugitive like you.” He smiled. She smiled back.
The next morning, the storm had subsided. Long Wu and his men prepared the horses and camels for the journey. In the morning gloom, he noticed a figure walking toward them. It was the lady. “Still need another sword hand?” She asked.
“And a bow.” Long replied.
She nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Yula. And yours?”
“Long Wu.”
“Show me what to do.” She said.
“First, let me introduce you to the team.” He called everyone over and introduced her. They smiled and nodded with some admiration. He assigned her a horse from one of the dead men. She leapt onto it. No need to ask a Mongol if she knew how to ride. Then they set off. Though no one spoke about it, everyone knew what she did last night. She had earned her spurs even by the standards of these hard men.
And the years went by.
Zhao Qi waited patiently as Long Wu finished the tale of how they met. “So why does she want to leave the Middle Kingdom now?”
“You know as well as I do how it feels to be hunted. Here, she will be killed if captured by Ming troops. We became convoy guards so we are never at one place at a time. This was the only way for us to live, but we are sick of it. We are sick of being fugitives.” Long’s voice was laced with a rising frustration. The Ming emperor Yong Le was surprisingly tolerant of all religions and races as long as it was not Mongol. He hated the traditional enemy of his people even after he had vanquished them. Anything Mongol was outlawed. The language, the culture and even anyone who imitated them was punished. A Mongol could not live in the kingdom without fear of repercussion.
Long continued, “So when I told her about this, she said she is willing to risk all to get out of the empire. She can’t return to the steppes; her rival clans will kill her. She can’t stay here forever too. She has no choice.”
“So firstly you broke your oath of secrecy and told an outsider about the rescue, next you changed your mind because of a woman.” Zhao’s tone suggested he knew what was really on Long’s mind. He did not sound reproving. Long Wu did not have to say anything, as his gestures said it all. He looked at Yula tenderly and held her hand before he looked at Zhao.
“She and I want to go somewhere where we can start a family, have children, and live like any normal people without worrying about being hunted.” A long pause before he confessed…
“Yes, Commander, I love her.”
TWELVE
Ji Gang sighed in comfort, as he lowered himself into the hot steaming water. His buttocks felt the rough stone floor of the natural hot spring reserved for him. The sulphurous whitish water reached to his chest, and the steamy vapour swathed him with perspiration. He splashed the hot water over his face, his head and chest, as his body got used to the temperature. The water was cloudy with mineral deposits and it stank. The hot water was pumped from a natural thermal source before being diverted into a stream, so that the cold and hot water would mix and form a warm pool for people to enjoy the therapeutic soak. Ji could feel the fatigue ooze from his muscles like evil spirits exorcised from his body and dissolved in the water. He soaked a towel with the hot water, and placed it over his head, letting the warmth sooth his headache. He closed his eyes. He felt so much better. He sighed again as he contemplated his age. His body was obviously worn out from years of war and campaigning, horse-riding from one end of the country to the other in search of state enemies. His body was tired. But formidable. Yes. He knew that he still possessed immense power through martial arts training as well as his indomitable spirit. He cracked his knuckles loudly and leaned backward. Perspiration started to bead, and he knew his body was working hard now to expel the toxin in his body.
He was alone. The attendants at the spring had all gone after they prepared the place for him. The commander of the Eastern Depot needed his privacy to rest and think. After the long journey back to Beijing, his body was stiff and aching. He had dismissed Yong Ju to wherever junior officers went and retreated to this place. He needed to rest and let his mind piece together all the fragments of information. Seniority had its privileges. He tried to think, but his thoughts were as cloudy as the water and as hazy as the steam, his eyes closed. It seemed that Jian Wen did not leave the country, so he would need to backtrack to the night eighteen years ago and start from there again. Meanwhile, he would watch the Grand Admiral. His gut told him the eunuch must be watched. He knew that in the spy business, sometimes your gut is more important than your mind because you feel some things before you know it. Your inner man could be working while you slept, putting things long forgotten together into some form of context which gave it meaning. As Yong had said, it was easier for Jian Wen to stay in the empire than to leave. No ruler would dare to hide Yong Le’s enemy when Zheng He’s flag appeared over the horizon. And there was no indication that Zheng would betray Yong Le. Still, something nagged him. So to be safe, he activated his spies in the navy to watch the admiral. Hopefully, something would come up that would join the dots for him.
His eyes closed. He sighed tiredly. He dreamt.
There was fire everywhere and people were frantically running about. At the heart of the commotion was a young man. He was
being pulled from a woman and a child. They could not bear to separate. Someone ran to the group and spoke urgently to the leader. Then the young man and woman were forcibly separated. The man was led to another group of men; he was crying and shouting, but in the dream, Ji could not hear. All he could comprehend was the reluctance of the man. Another group of man waited for him; restless and armed, but they were there to protect the young man, not to harm him. The leader of the second group said something urgent to the older man escorting the young man. He seemed to be shouting then they all kneeled before the young man. The older man helped him onto a horse before the other party climbed onto their steeds. Behind them more buildings were burning and vague screams could be heard. The scene was very violent and disturbing.
The young man got off his horse. He ran towards the burning building only to be restrained and put onto the horse again. Then the old man bade farewell. They rode hard away from the scene of apocalypse. After the group departed, the older man disappeared back into the warren of buildings. A group of soldiers came and closed the gate. Suddenly another group arrived on horses. They saw the soldiers defending the closed gate and attacked. The fight was swift and bloody with losses on both sides. Everyone defending the gate died.
Except the older man who had escaped back into the palace.
Ji’s eyes opened like lit candles. His body jerked as though he had been prodded by a cattle brand. Water splashed out of the pool as his massive body moved erratically. He saw it all suddenly. If Jian Wen had escaped, there must be someone who helped him. An emperor who lived all his life in the palace, where could he go to? There must be people who assisted him. Where could he go to live? A farm? A merchant house? At a place where no one would find a stranger appearing under mysterious circumstances weird enough to report it to the authorities! He ruled out the major cities. Too obvious. He ruled out the vast farms and rural areas. These communities were closely knit. He was fully awake now. He knew where to start looking. First, who was the man who helped the emperor escape, and where would a fugitive emperor live anonymously? The man was key. He needed to focus on finding that man before he could conclusively devise a strategy to find his hidden prey. For now, searching for Jian wen would lead to nowhere. He jumped out of the water with a splash. Even before he was dressed, he shouted for his attendants to assemble his team. They must report to him first thing at dawn.
Lord Ji stormed into his office like the hurricanes that lashed the empire’s east coast. Unstoppable and fast, he strode through the quiet halls. Ji Gang was more powerful than the sun when it came to starting the day in the Eastern Depot. His men rose and bowed their heads, greeting their commander. Before they even finished their greeting, he ordered them to sit, keep quiet and listen. An orderly served steaming fragrant tea and white wheat buns as breakfast while he started the meeting. His voice was loud and clear like the bell that sounded the early morning routine. His men listened with rapped attention as he outlined his theory. They had missed the whole point. Instead of searching the borders, they should start where the mystery started: that night at the imperial palace. As he went on, some of his men were clearly excited at the prospect of a new chase. Ma Hun started to clench and unclench his fist as though he was ready to punch someone. His eyes shone brightly with excitement, but next to him, his partner An Deli sat ramrod straight. His face was like stone.
Without wasting time, Ji launched into his analysis and theories with his finger in the air, like a scholar lecturing his wards on the virtues of Confucianism. He recounted his dream. “Men, it is not a mere dream. It was my subconscious eye remembering what we saw on that night eighteen years ago. We rode into the palace grounds expecting resistance from Jian Wen’s company of bodyguards, but there was none. We went deeper and deeper into the palace searching for the young emperor. It was not until we reached the West Gate did we encounter Jian Wen’s bodyguards and by then, they were dead, killed by the emperor. He fought a pitch battle with them and massacred them all. The emperor himself led the charge. According to him later, the Jian Wen emperor was found elsewhere while trying to escape and was killed. Then his body was burnt with the empress.”
Ma Hun sniggered and made an irreverent remark about the dead enemy troops, something about them deserving to die like dogs for serving the former emperor. This earned him a sharp rebuke from Ji. Ji scolded the man sternly, finger in the air like a teacher disciplining an errant boy.
“Do not show disrespect to them. They were imperial bodyguards like us. Just because they lost the war they are not any lesser than we. They were loyal men, faithful to the end. I remember their courage and some of them, I know personally. Do not insult these warriors again.” Ji spoke sombrely; his tone carrying respect for the fallen foes of yesteryears.
“Yes Sir.”
Ji continued, now that the delinquent had been put in his place. An hid a smile as he saw the embarrassed Ma Hun’s face turning red from the rebuke.
“But who were they fighting for at the West Gate? Then later when we regrouped, we were told the emperor was dead, that the Yong Le emperor had seen his nephew’s burnt corpse. Clearly it was not so. His majesty had been hiding this fact all these years.”
Yong Ju, his prodigy spoke up, able to read his master’s train of thought.
“And since the body of the late emperor was not seen by Lord Ji and his men, they believed the emperor. But as we now know, the Jian Wen emperor was not there that night, he must have gotten away. Sir, was the gate opened or closed when you fought through to the West Gate and joined the emperor?”
“Closed. It was shut tight.” Ji saw it clearly now.
Li Wei asked, “Then why would the late emperor’s bodyguard detachment gather there for the last stand if the emperor was not there? If the gate was shut, then they were fighting with their backs to the wall. If they were not making a last stand for the emperor, what were they doing there sacrificing their lives? This is where the inconsistency lies.”
And Ji turned back to answer the agent, “I asked myself this question for eighteen years too. Why would they, the men responsible for Jian Wen’s safety bunch at the West Gate when the emperor’s body was ‘found’ inside the palace but now I know the answer.” He said triumphantly. After a pregnant pause, the answer dawned upon the faces of his men. They were bright and sharp.
Lu Ximing said, “Sir, they were not protecting the emperor anymore. They were buying him time.”
“Yes. The gate was locked shut behind them. I personally investigated it. Jian Wen must have left from there, and his bodyguards must have shut it just before we arrived. They had no time to disperse so they took their last stand there. They did what they could to make sure we could not pursue. But now we know they were there because they wanted to make sure no one got through the West Gate because the emperor had escaped through there.”
Seeing his colleagues gain mileage with the boss, Ma Hun tried to make amends.
“Lord, what are your instructions now?”
“Li and Lu, gather the records of Jian Wen’s bodyguards and see if all the men were slain. See if any bodyguards were unaccounted for. An Deli and Ma Hun, investigate all those at the palace that night. I want all the servants and eunuchs who were there, and who have followed the Yong Le emperor to the Forbidden City from Nanjing to be interviewed. Find out who was there, and what their role and duties were that night. Make them account for their actions. Find that one man who helped the emperor to escape.”
Turning to Yong Ju, his prodigy. “And you will follow me.”
“Lord, where will we go?”
“We will interrogate the people who will most likely know where the emperor went, and also the most unwilling to share.”
“Who are they?”
“The monks at the royal monastery; the emperor would have taken refuge there first before he went on. Follow me, and learn how to crack tough nuts.”
“Yes Lord.”
THIRTEEN
Fifteen year old Li Po turned
into a dark alley that led to a warren of old houses and dark lanes. This was the old part of the city where she stayed. She passed buildings made of the uniform grey brick and tiles commonly found in every city and town. All the houses look drab and similar, thus unless one lived there, it was easy to get lost. Light and sound escaping through cracks in the walls or broken windows revealed the existence of the poor who lived in this section of the city. Someone was singing to a sleeping child. Another was eating. Two people were talking quietly in old and tired voices. Taking another turn, she passed under a pile of bamboo scaffolding that momentarily blocked the moon. Then she entered a darker alley that was long and quiet, blocked off on each side by a high earthen wall. The wall was badly cracked with age, and the gloominess of the night made the wall look worn. She felt happy holding on to the day’s earnings gained from acrobatic performances in the city and looked forward to going home. Her father was ill that day; otherwise he would have performed with her.