by Justin Hill
Snow Vase gave Wei-fang a look, but he would not catch her eye, and that hurt more than Shulien’s fury. Finally he looked up from his thoughts and their eyes met.
We will take revenge, her look said, and he saw and understood, and nodded.
That evening the wind was northerly. The trees in the bamboo garden rattled with the cold. A brazier had been carried into Shulien’s room, but it had been brought inside too soon, and the room had the acrid smell of charcoal. It failed to warm the uncertain air of waiting, and the hurt to Snow Vase’s pride. She had not left home to be mothered, she told herself. She did not like to be reprimanded like a child. There was so much that Shulien thought she understood. If only Snow Vase could tell her half of what she now knew, but it would bring up the past, and Mubai, and his memory upset her teacher, so she decided against it.
Shulien liked to eat early and retire early. It was still light outside when the two women ate in silence. At the end Shulien picked out a dumpling and put it into Snow Vase’s bowl. “You eat,” she said.
Snow Vase refused the honor but Shulien insisted, and at last she gave in.
Snow Vase felt guilty then, for taking such offense. Your teacher honors you so, she told herself. Her mood improved and it was clear that Shulien’s earlier silence had not been anger but distraction.
As the shadows deepened Snow Vase trimmed the wicks, lit the lanterns and hung them at each corner of her teacher’s room. The darkness drew on. Soon the stars were out, and the moon was rising.
Shulien had not spoken. She paced back and forth, her footsteps softened by the red carpet.
“What are you thinking, teacher?” Snow Vase asked at last.
“Nothing,” Shulien said.
There was a long pause. One of the candles burnt itself out. Snow Vase took the lantern down and relit it. “Perhaps we should ride out and meet Hades Dai,” she said.
Shulien must have heard something in her voice, because she looked up and caught Snow Vase’s eye. Snow Vase feared for a moment her teacher would see her thoughts. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweaty. But Shulien’s expression softened. “Silent Wolf thinks the same,” she said.
“Maybe he is right,” Snow Vase said. “It would stop Sir Te fretting.”
Shulien walked to the door and leaned against the doorpost and looked out. Darkness had fallen. The air was chill, the sky clear, a few white stars glimmered in the west. The moon rose in the east. Each night it had changed—no longer a sickle, the circle was now nearly complete.
“Shall I get you a coat?” Snow Vase said.
Shulien shook her head and turned away from the open door again.
“When I was a girl I used to love Mid-Autumn Festival, when the moon was full and all the family gathered to eat.” Shulien half smiled. “Whenever I see a full moon I think of those nights. My father was a warrior. He worked as a guard. He would escort merchants north and south. He was so good even the chief of the Shanxi bankers, an enormously fat gentleman named Goldtooth Wang, begged him to accompany him as he transported his silver.” She paused. “But now they are all gone, and I am no longer a girl. I see the moon growing in size and I feel like a bow that is stretched tight, or the rope that lashes the boat to the shore and is almost at snapping point from the weight of the barge that tugs against it.”
“Waiting is never easy,” Snow Vase said.
Shulien nodded. “It’s odd. When I think back I don’t remember my father leaving, but I remember so many times waiting for him to come back.”
Snow Vase felt a sudden sadness for her teacher. She looked old and weary and worn out. “It’s here, isn’t it?” Snow Vase said. “The sword, I mean.”
Shulien looked sideways at her, but said nothing.
Snow Vase kept going. “Silent Wolf and the others. It’s not with them. They’re just decoys. They are there to die, when Hades Dai comes.”
“Not decoys,” Shulien said. “I would lament the loss of any of them. But you are right. The sword is not with Silent Wolf. It was his plan. It is not how I would fight this battle. But Silent Wolf likes secrecy.” Shulien took in a deep breath. “If Mubai was here, we would fight Hades Dai differently. But he is gone, and so we must make do. Silent Wolf has many skills. I am alone. We must depend on him.”
Snow Vase stood next to her teacher and watched as the moon cleared the rooftops of the east courtyard. It seemed to shrink a little as it rose into the air, to grow more distant, less yellow. “Two more nights,” she said softly.
Shulien looked up and half smiled. “Yes, then it will all be over.”
Snow Vase went to bed early. She lay with her back turned to the room, eyes closed, breathing slow, but inside the stillness of her head her mind was like a caged monkey swinging from bar to bar, looping and jumping.
All she had to do was find the Green Destiny, then she and Wei-fang could end this. Tonight.
Shulien had not argued when she said that Green Destiny was in this room. But did that mean it was true, she thought, or just another decoy in the plot? She began to think of all the places Shulien might have hidden the sword. Under the bed? Too easy. In the rafters? Perhaps. In her chest? Too obvious? Under the floorboards? Not safe enough.
As she thought she listened to the sounds of her teacher as Shulien went through her evening rituals. She was methodical, always going through the same steps. Shulien always threw off her simple gown before brushing her hair by the mirror.
Snow Vase listened to the sound of the stool being drawn in under the dressing table, the almost imperceptible sound of a comb’s bone teeth raking furrows through long black hair; the sound of a middle-aged woman looking at herself in the mirror, and wondering how she got here, like this.
“Snow Vase?” Shulien called out softly. “Are you awake?”
Snow Vase’s eyes flicked open. She held herself rigid, and after a moment’s thought “ummed” in a sleepy way.
There was a pause. Snow Vase turned. Shulien was standing over her. Her teacher’s face was soft. “Can’t sleep?”
Snow Vase shook her head, feigned a yawn, and then snuggled into her hard round pillow. “I keep thinking about fighting Hades Dai,” she said.
“I hope it will not come to that. I do not think you could beat him.”
Snow Vase bit back her retort. I will beat him, she thought. I will show you.
“I’m tired,” Shulien said, and blew out the lanterns, and then crossed the room and lay down next to her, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
There was something about Shulien that reminded her of her mother, Snow Vase thought. Both women seemed loners. It seemed a waste for any woman to cut herself off from friends, family, lovers. Snow Vase looked at Shulien and knew that she did not want to end up alone, hidden, waiting for the end with all the patience and calm of a Buddhist nun.
24
The night passed quietly, with no hint of the West Lotus warriors. But Sir Te could not sleep. He paced back and forth, and by the time morning came he had worked himself into a state of nervous exhaustion. As the moon set over the western halls of his courtyard, Sir Te summoned Old Horse, who came rubbing sleep from his eyes and failing to suppress a long slow yawn. “Any word?” Sir Te said. He saw the look on Old Horse’s face.
“No,” Old Horse said. “I was awake all night. I barely shut my eyes. But I can go and check, if you wish.”
“Let us both go,” Sir Te said, going quickly inside to fetch his coat.
His wife had still not unbolted her door. He listened to see if she was snoring, but there was no sound, so he found a fur-lined jacket and buttoned it up as he walked down his steps toward his gate.
Sir Te’s yard lay next to the bamboo gardens. He decided to take this route to where Shulien was quartered. It would be faster, he thought.
Spring was a good time to walk through the garden. Wet plum blossoms lay spl
attered under the trees, buds bulged as the first leaves opened, and the bamboo shoots were a hand’s breadth taller than they had been the day before. They were clean and pale green, highly polished as emerald porcelain.
When he was young Duke Te had taught him and his brother to carve their name in the smooth green skin of the young bamboo. “Te” he and his brother had written, and the scratches beaded with sap as the young bamboo bled. Now those stalks were grown tall, the scratches had healed, though the Te character was still a pale line on the bamboo segments. But they were like old friends and rattled gently as he passed through them, with Old Horse hurrying behind. For a moment Sir Te had been lost in memory, but then he remembered the Green Destiny again, and he wished he could put it out of his head for longer.
His father should have found a solution to the sword before he died, Sir Te thought. He should not have left this problem to his son.
On the way to Shulien’s hall Sir Te rehearsed what he was going to say to her many times. He imagined her protests, he countered them, contradicted them, and eventually, when she refused politely to take that sword out of his palace, he drew on his rank and demanded she leave. All this meant that by the time he reached her yard he was in an unusually aggressive mood, such as he normally reserved only for his mother.
He paused at the gateway to Shulien’s hall and waited for Old Horse.
“Shall I?” Old Horse said.
“Yes,” Sir Te said.
Old Horse knocked smartly on the wooden gates. There was no answer. Old Horse knocked again, louder this time. He pulled a face. Maybe she is asleep . . . maybe she is in trouble. Sir Te drew himself up. He motioned with his head. Old Horse put his shoulder to the door and gave it a shove. The door was unlocked, and Old Horse fell through the door, and a hand reached out to catch him.
“Good morning,” Silent Wolf said.
“Why is he here?” Sir Te whispered.
Shulien looked at him. Her face was drawn. It appeared that she had spent much of the night sleepless as well. “He is here to help us, remember,” she said.
Sir Te nodded, but he took Shulien’s elbow as if he meant to lead her away.
She stopped and looked down at his hand.
“I am sorry,” he said, and let go. “But I cannot sleep. My mother has been taking opium for three days solid. She will die of hunger soon, and still the sword is here. What happens when the full moon passes? Can we really believe that Hades Dai will go home? And I don’t feel comfortable with this man and his helpers. Look at him.”
Shulien turned toward the nobleman. “Sir Te,” she said, “you can trust Silent Wolf. I trust him as well as any man alive. He gave his life for me once. He has done much to help me and you and your father, and your whole house.”
There were times when words unpacked thoughts that had not previously been spoken, and when Shulien heard herself say I trust him as well as any man alive, she understood something about herself that she had not known before.
Silent Wolf heard the words as well. He looked at Shulien but she would not return the look. She was at the gateway, he was standing in the doorway of the central house, the open yard between them, each wondering what the other was thinking.
Sir Te had been expecting this response and he switched into a more aggressive way of speaking. “I cannot allow this. This sword was brought here. Who knows what Hades Dai will sink to. You must take it away before my whole household is destroyed!”
Shulien looked at her student. “Snow Vase,” Shulien said, and her voice sounded tense, even to herself, so she smiled to try to compensate, “can you wait outside? Please.”
Snow Vase bowed and nodded.
The air was tense as she walked to the door and shut it behind her.
Then the raised voices began.
Snow Vase crossed to the far side of the yard. The night’s chill had gone and this morning the weather was close, a hazy sun white behind the low flat clouds. It was just strong enough to cast a shadow, and her padded jacket felt a little too warm.
As she worked through her stretches she wiped the beads of sweat from her upper lip. The arguments continued, and at last the door opened and Sir Te marched out.
“Thank you,” he said. “But I will walk myself to the doorway.”
She bowed as he marched from the courtyard. He did not shut the gate behind himself.
Snow Vase pushed it shut. Silent Wolf and Shulien remained inside.
Their voices were hushed. Snow Vase took off her jacket and planted her feet just a little wider than shoulder width, in the horse stance. Her mother had always taught her that the true skill of a fighter came from their internal energy, their qi, and that it was a lifetime’s work to achieve control over it. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and imagined the breath was her qi, moving through her mouth, down into her stomach, which swelled with power, then shrank as she breathed the energy out again.
In a wide, slow, circular motion, Snow Vase put her palms together and touched the tip of her tongue to the roof of her mouth, and as she breathed she moved the air, the qi around her body, down her legs, and through the bottom of her feet, the qi slipping into the ground like the roots of a tree and fixing her there, spreading out, until she was as much part of the earth as she was a human atop it. The feeling was so intense she found herself leaning forward, but she did not sway or fall, she was like an overhanging crag where the wizened tree grows.
Snow Vase drew the qi back from the ground. She drew it into her stomach, where it swirled and swelled, boiled within her like a lightning strike that she could hurl from a fist or foot, she brought it up to her head, straight out of the top of her skull, like a line on a puppet, and then plunged it back down through her feet again.
Her breathing slowed. The world’s qi flowed in through her nose, down into her stomach, out through her barely parted lips. Everything in the world was circles. Life, death, rebirth; love, loss, longing; youth, power, old age. Everything had its proper place and time.
She had become more and more adept at controlling the qi, more skilled at drawing energy from the world around her. She could pull so much that it made her almost dizzy.
At last Snow Vase opened her eyes, let her tongue drop and rest behind her teeth, and let all the energy blow out from her puffed cheeks. She heard the door open as Silent Wolf stepped out. She shook the qi, like clinging webs, from her fingers. While she was breathing she had forgotten to listen.
Silent Wolf gave her a curt nod. “Good,” he said, as he shut the gate behind himself.
Snow Vase walked back to Shulien’s room.
“Just a moment,” Shulien called out.
Snow Vase waited.
“Come in,” Shulien said, and Snow Vase heard a tinny click as she stepped toward the door and paused, heard the chest being softly closed. She waited for a moment, then stepped inside and bowed. “Teacher, I have done my breathing exercises,” she said. She noticed the carpet had been straightened out. There was a pause. Shulien looked up and frowned.
“You have done your breathing exercises. Right. I think it is time for practice with a sword.”
Snow Vase bowed.
Shulien had given her two moves to practice, and after they had sparred for half an hour, Shulien sheathed her sword and said, “Good.”
“Good?” Snow Vase said.
Shulien saw the look in her pupil’s face. “Yes,” she said. “You learn quickly. That was good. Well done.” The servants had just brought their midday meal and set it on the table inside. “I’m hungry,” Shulien said. “Shall we eat?”
Snow Vase gave a deep bow.
Two sets of chopsticks had been laid out, next to two dipping bowls. In the center of the table, on porcelain plates, was a selection of cold pickles, boiled peanuts, spicy pieces of chicken and two covered bowls of boiled mutton dumplings, the meat flecked with
dark green chives.
Shulien liked hers dipped in vinegar. Snow Vase liked hers dipped in a bowl of minced garlic. What we eat reflects our nature, Snow Vase thought. She is sour and I am fiery.
Snow Vase made sure she put the best pieces of chicken into her teacher’s bowl.
“No,” Shulien said.
“Please,” Snow Vase said. “You have taught me so much. I want to show my gratitude.”
Shulien smiled, and ate quietly.
The silence had a different feel to the meal they had shared the night before. The distance between them was gone, and now there was a closeness in the silence, like an old village couple who do not need to speak anymore.
“Done?” Shulien said.
Snow Vase nodded and stood up. There were seven dumplings still uneaten.
“Have more,” Shulien said.
Snow Vase shook her head. “I will take the others to Wei-fang,” she said.
Shulien gave her a look that implied any man tattooed with the Red Dragon was not worth her time or effort, but she said nothing.
Snow Vase put a plate over the bowl, and tied a cloth around both. She pinned the cloth closed with a hairpin, turned right out of the courtyard, keeping to the narrow line of shade along the southern wall, and then turned left, along the side of the courtyard where Wei-fang waited. She could see the plum tree’s tallest branches as she walked along the wall. She tried to go slowly, but she was so excited she forgot to stop.
“Who goes there?” a muffled voice shouted.
Snow Vase stopped twenty feet from the gateway. The peephole was dark as someone peered through. “Me,” she said.
Light showed through the peephole; a frowning warrior let her in. He had a tired face. She smiled brightly. “Brought me some food?” the man asked.
“No,” Snow Vase said. “I’m here to feed the dog.”
“What with you and the kitchen maids, he’s fed better than any of us,” he said.