The Emperor's Prey

by Jeremy Han

  Before the procession started out of the gate, Li Po leapt in front of them, and did a series of somersaults, landing with a perfect split in front of everyone. She flipped and landed on her feet again. Thinking it was part of the celebrations, the crowd clapped and the lions responded by dancing more vigorously. Catching the mood of the crowd, she performed more acrobatic moves, coordinating with the lions and the band. Together, they led the wedding procession forward, further exciting the crowd. Her father and the Farmer followed behind the crowd inconspicuously. Pride beamed from the Acrobat’s face, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety about the attention his daughter was getting.

  The procession continued to meander through the city, spreading cheer throughout the city as stall holders and various city folk stopped to cheer the girl and her pair of dancing lions as they dispensed the festive mood. Children and adults followed the entourage clapping and cheering until the Master-of-Ceremony indicated they have arrived at the bride’s residence. The groom looked shyly around him. A man just barely out of his teens, he did not know what to do. He grinned at the crowd, as they shouted out their well-wishes as well as good natured jeers to ‘do the manly thing’. Then at the urging of the Master-of-Ceremony, he went to knock on the door. Immediately the doors were opened, but a group of ladies-in-waiting refused to allow the groom in. Now he had to bargain with them on the ‘entrance fee’. The crowd cheered again as this was the most hilarious part of any wedding, when the groom had to find a way into the bride’s house. The ladies were all dressed in bright shades of red or pink and they held long, silk kerchiefs that they use to wave at the groom to confuse him. Looking terribly disturbed, he turned to look at the Master-of-Ceremony, who was an old hand at this. Finally, an old lady came forward. She was the meipo ‘the matchmaker’. Dressed in the tradition bright red tunic with black pants of the matchmakers, she came forward to render her assistance. No doubt in cahoots with the ladies, she pulled the young, inexperienced groom aside, and chided him in an exaggerated manner, flicking her silk kerchief at him in admonishment. Then after some time, she walked forward, swaying her wide hips towards the ladies manning the door like warriors. After a few words with them, the ladies gave an exaggerated sigh, embellished with vigorous shaking of heads to show how they had suffered a financial loss, as they allowed the groom in. The groom turned towards the crowd, and waved his hand triumphantly. The lions immediately picked up the dance, and the band struck the cadence that would guide the beast into the courtyard. And to everyone’s delight, the female acrobat led the whole group in with a series of cartwheels.

  When they were inside the house, Li Po decided that she had had enough fun. She wiped her perspiration and headed for the door to look for her father, whom she knew must be somewhere nearby. She had a great time. She had never seen such a grand wedding, and could not contain her girlish excitement. A hand tapped her shoulder,

  “Who are you?”

  She turned around. It was the Master-of-Ceremony.

  “Ermm…I…” She looked afraid, suddenly realising that she was an uninvited guest. “I’m sorry…did I do anything wrong?”

  “No no…it was obvious you were not part of the celebrations, but you brought great cheer to the occasion.”

  He pointed outside to indicate the lively performance she had put up to attract the city folks to the wedding. A wedding’s success was gauged by how many people turned up not just as guest, but also as well-wishers, the noisier the better. The bigger the crowd, the better it reflected on the host because it meant that people gave him ‘face’. And Li Po just found out that the host was the wealthiest rice merchant in the city.

  “Would you like to perform at tonight’s wedding banquet?” The Master asked.

  “Ermm…I really do not know.” Li Po squirmed. As she tried to answer, her dilemma was solved. Her father the Acrobat had caught up with them and was looking for her.

  “Father, this gentleman asked if we could perform at the wedding banquet tonight.” Her voice was filled with excitement, but also a little fear.

  The Master of Ceremony added, “Yes, your daughter is really talented. Our master would love to have a show that would amaze his guests.”

  “I’m sorry my daughter intruded. It’s time we leave.” The Acrobat said to the Master brusquely and pulled Li Po with him. “Father.” She pouted.

  The Master reached into his pocket and took out tael of silver. “Please?”

  “Father, why don’t we put on the bianlian show?” Li Po blurted out. The bianlian or face changing act is considered as one of the empire’s performing art treasures. The performer would wear a series of masks made from pig or cow skins elaborately painted to represent the various characters in Chinese mythology or legends and as the story unfolds, play different characters by stripping off the masks to reveal another. Good artistes would be able to do so without anyone detecting their hands move. Changing masks undetected in the middle of martial arts moves and acrobatic movements was even more difficult. The Acrobat was an expert in this rare art form.

  “Bianlian? Yes. If you could, Sir, our master would be most delighted to. Money will not be an issue.” The Master of Ceremony was excited because it was hard to find a Face-changer.

  “Father, just once…please? We have not performed the Bianlian for some time.”

  The Acrobat could see the desire on his daughter’s face. He knew she missed performing with her father. Throughout her life, she grew up doing that, so to her, being in an act with him was a special bonding activity with him. The Acrobat gave in not because of the money; it was her look of wanting to perform with her father that softened him.

  “Alright. Just this one night; after that we have to be on our way.”

  “Splendid! My master will be delighted.” The Master of Ceremony clapped his hands. “The wedding dinner tonight will be a success.” Then in a conspiratorial tone, he pulled the Acrobat aside and confided in him, “My master is the richest rice merchant in the city. He has the wealthiest people coming over for his only son’s wedding feast. He will reward if you entertain his guest well.” The Acrobat just nodded. He wanted to remain unknown but he could not break his girl’s heart.

  After the show had ended, the Acrobat was packing his gear. The Farmer stood to the side, partly acting as an assistant, but in reality scanning the crowd for any indications that there was an ambush for them. But everything was as it should be at a wedding. People talked loudly, laughed, drank and they cheered and clapped for the Acrobat, none suspecting him to be an enemy of the state. Before they left, a voice called out.

  “Man. ‘Stop’. They turned. It was the rice merchant himself. The father of the groom was dressed in the customary red tunic for weddings made of the finest silk. He was a slight man, eyes slanted like his son. He had a middle-aged paunch and a greying beard. His face was round, the sign of a good life. He had a warm demeanour around him of someone sincere in doing business. The two fugitives assessed him to be no threat.

  “I want to thank you for putting up such a fine performance. You have made me look hospital and gracious to my guests. Several are business associates, some are government officials and they are all impressed.”

  “I’m glad to hear that Sir.” The Acrobat dipped his head, used to being a performer for the rich. In their society, an opera performer had the same status as a butcher or an undesirable like a beggar. The rich and mighty did not deign them worthy of a conversation, much less a ‘thank you’. Usually when the show was over, they would toss the money to the floor and walk away like throwing a bone to the dogs. The old man put a hand on the performer’s shoulder. There was no force to it, only sincerity.

  “I would like to hire you. I have to entertain businessmen and government officials regularly, and it is difficult for me to find a good performer. I think your daughter and you would really be a great help. Money is not a problem, and you will not find me an ungrateful or selfish employer.”

  Li Po leapt with joy. She grabbed
her father’s arm, “That’s great Father! Isn’t that what we have always wanted?”

  The Acrobat looked into the old man’s eyes for any signs of trickery, but there were none. There was only honesty. Thoughts flew through his head. The thought of having a stable job finally, a place where his daughter would be able to grow up with food on the table, with new clothes every year, came upon him like a lover’s embrace. It was hard to resist. For a father who brought up his daughter moving from city to city, town to town, such an offer was akin to being given a new lease of life, a chance to erase the past. But he knew that it was illusionary. As long as they remained in the Ming, they would be fugitives. Such an offer, kind as it was, would only be a temporary respite from their flight. Soon, they would have to go. But the offer of a stable life and regular income continued to tug at him like a spurned lover as he dipped his head and offered the generous and kind merchant his apologies. He lied to the kindly old man that they have to go back to their hometown in the west because family needed them there. “I’m sorry sir.” He dipped his head in apology. “We have family in the western province that needs us. Actually, we are rushing back there to attend to an emergency.”

  Li Po looked incredulously at her father. She did not know why he lied, but did not dare to contradict him. As they walked out of the wide, generous doors, Li Po’s tears ran down her cheeks, as she silently blamed her father for her life as a vagrant. The Acrobat avoided her eyes and looked away as the ache in his heart swelled.

  TWENTY

  He blinked hard to squeeze the stinging perspiration out of his eyes. The cloth tied around his forehead to absorb the copious amount of sweat was soaked through. He knew he should change the cloth, but he wanted to finish the current job. He was hammering into shape an entire set of horse shoes for the postmaster’s team of ten horses. He was onto the last pair, so he thought it would be good to rest only after he finished. That was his nature - never leave a job unfinished. His arms ached, but he felt good. He had no regrets becoming a blacksmith. Behind the black smith’s apron, his bare torso glistened with moisture and the light of the flames casted him in a reddish glow. Each time he raised his arm to bring down the hammer, his sculpted muscles flexed and stretched. The loud clang of metal striking metal shouted of his great strength. The workshop was dark; only the area around the stove was lit by the burning ambers. He kept the place dark, so it was easier to observe the changing colour in the metal throughout the different stages of smithing. He had to control the process so that the metal would not have too much carbon in it, making it brittle. As iron is heated to higher temperatures, it first glows red, then orange, yellow, and finally white, and then it melts. The best heat is the bright yellow-orange colour appropriately known as a ‘forging heat’. If he missed this stage and allowed the metal to continue being heated, the metal would be rendered useless. In order for him to monitor the glowing colour of the metal, he kept the workshop in dim, low-light conditions. Even in broad day light, the workshop was dark. There were hardly any windows. The air was thick with moisture as well as smoke. Naturally, the place stank of ammonia and carbon. It was also cluttered with tools, material and other furniture that indicated to a careful observer that this was the place the blacksmith spent most of his time. He went there every day to forget.

  Finally. The last piece slowly took shape under his careful but strong hammering. He took out the red-hot piece and put it aside to harden and form. He counted again the ten sets of horse shoes and felt proud of himself; he looked forward to the money he will receive. Business had been good. He would get some wine later to blur the loneliness that followed him every day for the last eighteen years. He used to have a master here, but the old man died, leaving this place to him. He did not socialise because of his past, so he did not expect any company, not when winter was approaching and the sun was already setting. Thus, he was surprised to hear someone open the door.

  “We are closed.” He said without even turning. He heard the ever-present creak that was more obvious than a bell when announcing any guest or customer’s arrival. He felt a gust of cold air trying to slice the thick, humid atmosphere of his workshop, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. The early winter air got swallowed up by the permanently high temperature of the heated building. He continued to wipe his perspiration and packed his tools, thinking that whoever came in would leave, but his senses told him they were still there. He turned around. “What the hell? I said the shop is closed. You deaf or something?” He said irritably. The muscular blacksmith struck a menacing figure as he glared at them. “Get out!”

  The two well-dressed men standing by the doorway did not move, or show any indication that they would heed what he said.

  “Are you Tu?”

  One of them, a man who looked in his late thirties asked. Both of them looked familiar but the blacksmith could not recall where he had seen them. One of them had a moustache. One carried a sword while the other held a bag. He repeated the question calmly as he took a step forward into the den in complete disregard to what the blacksmith said. In the dark, Lu Ximing could not see Tu’s eyes squinting as his mind raced into the past and saw a younger version of Lu. In a flash, Tu, the former imperial bodyguard of the Jian Wen Emperor from the Northern provinces, knew who was speaking to him. Dong Chang! And they came for only one purpose.

  Tu grabbed the mallet by his side, the one that could substitute for a war hammer, and swung it full force at Lu. There was no need for words; the Eastern Depot did not drop in for a chat. Lu did not dodge; he flew forward to meet the mallet, unsheathing the sword at the same time; a loud clang reverberated through the enclosed space. Tu’s momentum carried him forward past Lu; he attacked Li Wei who was guarding the door and blocking his escape route. Li dodged the swinging mallet and counter-attacked with a kick which Tu blocked with a low fore-arm block. He spun his body just in time to use the handle of the mallet to parry the sword thrust by Lu before he charged the man, knocking him down. He turned to face the threat behind, as he heard the whistling in the air. Li had drawn his weapon, the chain and sickle, and threw it. The flying blade cut Tu’s face before he could duck. He retreated because chain weapons, known as ‘soft weapons’, were notoriously hard to fight against. Tu eyed Li warily.

  Lu and Li now circled him. Li was swinging his sickle in a circular motion that made a soft whooshing sound. Lu held his sword pointed as he stepped forward. Tu found it hard to look at two enemies at the same time. They circled; each trying to assess the other’s strength and weakness. Tu had the advantage of the home ground and knew the layout well including where the clutter laid. While he was trying to watch the actions of the two men, a blur took place to the left and right. It was a simultaneous attack. Lu slashed from the top, while Li swung the chained weapon at his legs. Tu pulled back, anticipating such a move and using the advantage of fighting on his home ground, he reached the familiar oven and flung the tray of burning charcoal at his adversaries. The move caught the two of them by surprise and lit little flames on their clothes. Tu gave a howl and charged as the fire distracted them. They tried to snuff the flames, and that gave him a momentary advantage. The room became even darker now without the glow of the charcoal. It was to his benefit.

  This time he attacked Li, who barely ducked below the swing arc of the mallet as his eyes desperately tried to adjust to the darkness. A single blow from the weapon could have reduced his head to mush. He fell below the angle of attack and instead of throwing the sickle, slashed out at close range. It struck the blacksmith’s leg and he cried out in pain. But Tu reacted fast. Withdrawing one leg, he kicked Li with the other. Li gasped in pain and fell. He managed to avoid the sword as Lu attacked by turning fast quickly. Parrying left and right against the criss-cross slashing of the sword with the mallet and retaliating, Tu swung the mallet aiming for Lu’s legs. Lu jumped and rolled over a table, scattering the utensils. Tu brought the mallet down with a blood curling yell, smashing the table as a result. The move slowed him b
ecause Lu had landed on his feet like a cat and all muscles bound like cheetah, he lunged again, launching two sword strikes within one movement so that the blade appeared like a blurred flash. Tu could only block one and felt the sting of a cut as the weapon penetrated his defences and cut him. Excited by his victory, Lu pressed the attack, but the blacksmith raised his massive fist and smashed it into Lu’s face with a yell. He was about to follow up with another blow when his hand was restrained – Li’s chain had wound its way around and when Li pulled, Tu, despite his bulk, was dragged backwards. Li executed a foot sweep while he yanked hard. This combined movement brought Tu crashing down. He forced himself up -- to stay down was to die quickly. He dropped the mallet and using both hands; he grabbed the squatting Li, and body-slammed him against the wall. Turning to face Lu again, he barely dodged the thrust. He clasped the blade in between his palms even as the shorter man shouted, expelling qi as he forced the blade forward toward his adversary. The blacksmith bent his body backward, feeling the pressure. The pain in his leg stung and he felt like he was being forced downward. For a man smaller than Tu, Lu was extremely strong. He tried to bend the blade but it would not budge; the sword was very well made, even by his standards as a blacksmith. He had to do something to break the deadlock as the sword point inched towards his face. With a fast downward movement, Tu pulled the blade downward, causing Lu to lose balance. He went forward with a lightning punch; using his longer limbs to his benefit, but Lu had anticipated it. He moved back swiftly and the fist hit nothing but air.