Girl with Flying Weapons

by Aya Ling

  Liu led the way to an inner room which had no windows and motioned Hong to close the door. It was completely dark except for the faint light filtering in from under the slit of the door. However, Hong's well-trained eyes detected a narrow table with a dozen candles on it. They were arranged in a rather haphazard manner—some of them were close together, while others were set far apart.

  "Go to that corner." Liu pointed with a long bony finger. "Get out your darts, girlie, and be prepared."

  Slowly but steadily, the elderly man lit a fire by using a tinder box that was also lying on the table, and started lighting the candles. Hong waited silently, but she wasn't idle. Her gaze swept over the table as she counted the number of candles and reached inside her robes to take out the same number of darts.

  "Now let's see how many tries you need today," Liu said, when he finished lighting the last one. "Remember, your sole purpose is to extinguish the flame only. Woe be with you if you knock down a single candle."

  "Yes, sifu." Hong flexed the darts between her fingers. There was a draught coming from the slit below the door, and the candle flames flickered eerily in the darkness. A slightly unpleasant smell from the candles burning, combined with the muskiness of the room, made her breathe rather uncomfortably.

  Carefully, she took aim and released her darts. There were tiny sounds of the darts whipping through the air and sounds of poofs as the candles were extinguished one by one.

  Liu, his brow furrowed, listened attentively.

  "Eleven down," he announced. "Almost all. That's better than last time."

  Hong bowed her head. The tone of his voice was not demanding, but it carried a note of criticism. She should have done better.

  Liu moved towards the candles. Instead of rekindling them immediately, he started to break off the ends of some of them, so the dozen candles had different lengths. Then he rearranged their positions on the table. Finally, he took up the tinder box and rekindled every single candle.

  "Here," he said gruffly. "Now you've almost perfected extinguishing candles of the same size, let's see how you fare with them in different lengths."

  "Yes, sifu."

  The training session carried on accordingly, with Liu continuously rearranging the candles' positions; when Hong managed to extinguish them all in one single aim, he again changed tactics. When Meng-Ting came in with the tea, Liu made him bring extra tables and benches and chairs.

  "Go outside," he ordered, once Meng-Ting had brought in enough furniture.

  Meng-Ting wiped the sweat from his brow and prepared to leave, but Liu stopped him.

  "I meant her," he snapped. "Don't want her memorising the candles' locations while we work. I want Hong to take aim at the candles as soon as she sees them. We need to hone her ability to react immediately and efficiently."

  A few minutes later, Meng-Ting came out. Hong was standing silently near the door, looking up at the sky.

  "You're to go in now," he said. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Glad that it's you he chose to be your disciple, not me. Don't think I could survive a session like this."

  Hong smiled but said nothing. Perhaps she did have some natural talent, but she knew well that Old Man Liu had chosen her because she was an orphan without attachments. A vigilante could not be ruthless when he had close family and relatives to think of. Furthermore, since she did not lack material comfort while living at Shue's house, she would not be easily swayed by huge bounties. She would remain loyal. And since she also knew what it was like to be poor and defenceless, during the year that her father had lost favour and been sentenced to prison, she would have more compassion and incentive to rid corruption, right wrongs, and assist the weak.

  Meng-Ting, who had expressed an interest in having at least five children, would not be as good a choice as her. Besides, he was well suited in his profession as a highly-skilled physician.

  She readied her darts and opened the door.

  Two hours later, Hong's arms were aching and her fingers were red and bruised. She did not make a word of complaint; unlike Meng-Ting, she never raised dissent in front of a senior.

  Old Man Liu told her she could have a break.

  "Your aim is all right," he pronounced. For Liu, "all right" equalled "spectacular." "But your stamina is terrible. I should have made you carry more weights when you were a child, but you spend too much time at the governor's. Your skills may be good, but what use will they be if you run out of energy?"

  "I am sorry." Hong looked on the floor, which was littered with darts. "I will strive to better my skills next time."

  "If only there's some way…" Liu mused, and suddenly he straightened. "Someone is coming this way."

  Hong dropped to the ground and listened carefully. Very faintly, she could hear the quick, firm tread of a person, who slowed down as he approached.

  Whoever it was, she could not be caught practising in the training room.

  "It doesn't seem to be Meng-Chou," Liu said, frowning. His hearing was superior in that he needn't press his ear to the ground, plus he was able to detect the difference in footfalls. Hong wondered when she could reach his level of hearing.

  "My lute is outside," she said, indicating that they should pretend that they were in the middle of a music lesson.

  Liu nodded. "Who on earth could it be?"

  FIVE

  Fang walked briskly through the streets of the city, feeling slightly irritated. He had gone to his father earlier, asking for Hong, but learnt she had gone to Old Man Liu's. Wasn't it just a week ago that she had visited the old man? It seemed that she preferred her music instructor's company more than being at the governor's.

  Since he was not taking his steed today, Fang decided to take a shortcut. He rounded a corner, entering an alley, and to his surprise, saw the magistrate's son, Ho Jiang-Min, with a young woman. It was Opal, the wife of his friend Chow. She had worked previously for the magistrate's daughter before she got married.

  Jiang-Min had backed Opal against a wall, one arm blocking her from running into the main street.

  "My, my, my," the magistrate's son drawled. "Marriage has made you even prettier, Opal. How rosy your cheek looks." He reached out to stroke her face, but she turned her head, trying to evade his touch.

  "Ma… master. Please don't…"

  "Excuse me," Fang said sharply. "Get away from her."

  Instantly, the young woman gave a little cry of relief and ran towards Fang.

  Jiang-Min's eyes blazed. "Why, isn't it Little Mr. Shue, the youngest of the governor's sons. Trying to play the hero, huh? But in case you didn't know, this woman was in my household. I was her first, not her husband."

  "Stop!" Opal screamed. "Stop saying that!"

  "Why, it's the truth. So why do you even care about being faithful to your husband now, huh? There's nothing he saw that I haven't seen on you—"

  Splash. Fang had seized his collar and tossed him over his shoulder. Jiang-Min went flying in the air and landed in a large puddle, his face deep in the muddy water.

  Had Jiang-Min trained in fighting, he might have defended himself better against the son of a military governor, but he was the typical rich young man who preferred idle pursuits that required little physical effort. He was more into watching people (and animals) fight than undertaking fighting lessons himself.

  "How dare you!" he spluttered. "You wait until I tell my father—"

  "Go ahead." Fang folded his arms. "Let him know that you are picking on a maid who is already married. Let him know how useless you are." He cast a contemptuous look over Jiang-Min's mud-splattered robes.

  Jiang-Min glared—though with his face completely covered in mud, he didn't look the least intimidating.

  "I'm warning you, Fang, this time you might have the upper hand, but next time you won't be so lucky! I'll never forget how you insulted me."

  He stalked away, the end of his robes leaving a muddy trail behind him.

  Fang looked at his retreating back, feeling disgus
ted. His elder brothers had married and taken concubines, but they would never touch a married woman, not to mention humiliate her in front of another man. Really, how much lower could the magistrate's son get?

  "Thank you, Master Fang." Opal bowed to him.

  "Better avoid being caught alone with him," Fang said. As a matter of fact, he thought that Opal shouldn't be walking alone in a deserted alley. She was really pretty—heart-shaped face, doe eyes, rosebud mouth. "Where are you going? I can walk with you to your destination."

  "No!" Opal blurted, then checked herself. Was that a flicker of fear in her eyes? "Um, I was going to the winehouse, but you don't have to. It's very near."

  "At least let me accompany you to a street where there are more people," Fang said firmly. "You ought to avoid places like this."

  Opal relented. Fang walked her to the main street.

  "Did the magistrate's son bother you before?"

  Opal shook her head. "It was just bad luck I saw him today."

  "It's easier to take the shortcut, but honestly, you should watch out for yourself. Chow can't be with you all the time, you know?"

  Opal flushed. Fang wondered if he should tell Chow about the magistrate's son; no man could tolerate his wife being molested, not to mention in broad daylight! But then he decided that he should keep quiet. It should be Opal doing the telling.

  When they reached the main street, Opal bowed. "Thank you, Master Fang. I can go on by myself." And she left abruptly, as though she were afraid of being seen with him. Fang was puzzled for a while. Of the few times he had dined at Chow's place, Opal had seemed quite friendly and cordial. It wasn't as if they were holding hands or doing anything inappropriate—why did she have the urge to be rid of him so quickly?

  Little did he know that his brief meeting with Opal would eventually bring him much trouble.

  After parting with Opal, Fang quickened his pace towards Old Man Liu's place, which was taking some time to locate. He had visited once or twice before, but he still could not get used to how remote the place was. It was understandable why Hong did not mind trekking halfway through the city to visit Liu; Fang knew that she preferred peace and quiet.

  Fang lifted a hand and used the brass ring to knock on the door. To his surprise, it was Liu Meng-Ting, Liu's grandson and also a well-known physician in the city, who answered the door.

  "Hello," Fang said, wondering why Meng-Ting was here. From what he had heard, Old Man Liu preferred to be left alone. "I am Governor Shue's third son—Fang is my name. I have a message to deliver from my father."

  "Honoured to make your acquaintance," Meng-Ting said with a smile. "No wonder your face seems familiar; I was summoned to the governor's residence just a couple months ago to treat a servant's illness. Please come in, if you'll excuse my grandfather's austere living quarters."

  Inside the courtyard, Old Man Liu sat on a bamboo couch, tapping the couch with his forefinger. Hong was sitting directly across him on a low wooden stool, strumming on her lute. In the tranquillity, the music from her lute flowed through the air like honey and nectar.

  Meng-Ting moved towards them, but Fang detained him. "Let her finish the song," he whispered.

  Meng-Ting looked surprised, but nodded.

  When the last note died away on the lute, Fang stepped forward. "Master Liu." He made a short bow, even though he knew the old man couldn't see him. "Shue Fang begs your pardon for his sudden intrusion. My father, the governor, has sent me personally."

  Liu raised his eyebrows, but said gruffly, "Flattered, young man. How can I be of assistance to the governor?"

  Fang held out a red visiting card hesitantly, wondering if he should give it to Liu or Meng-Ting. He decided to speak first.

  "My father's fiftieth birthday is in two weeks. We have planned a grand celebration for him, and it would be a great honour if Master Liu could make an appearance and grace the guests with his music."

  "That is very kind, but I must decline," Liu said. "At my age, my frailty deems it unfit to be in the jostle and bustle of company. And my fingers have grown rusty; my performance is not as it has been. However, tell your father that I shall teach Hong a new song that she may perform in my place."

  Fang glanced at Hong, who had risen when he arrived, and was standing quietly with a serene expression. When Liu finished speaking, she gave him a small smile that made his heart jump.

  "I shall do my best." She bowed her head.

  Liu grunted. "Well, that's settled, then. Go home, girlie, you've been through enough today. Meanwhile, I'll think about what you should prepare for next time. Come back in five days."

  "Yes, sifu."

  It was a long walk back to the governor's residence, but Fang appreciated it. He had thought about using a horse, but then decided against it. He had been hunting the day before and wanted to let his horse have a good rest. Plus, a walk in the city and to the outskirts would be good exercise. And now, with Hong walking by his side, his spirits soared. It wasn't often that the two of them could be alone together. Too many siblings and servants at the governor's compound.

  "How… how are you feeling now?" he asked. "Your cold, I mean?"

  "Much better. Thank you, Young Master, for the chicken broth."

  "Oh, it wasn't anything," Fang said, though he couldn't help grinning. "I don't—we don't want you falling sick. By the way," he took a deep breath, "since you are fully recovered, would you come and play for me some time? You can also practise the song that you'll be playing on Father's birthday ceremony."

  There was a slight blush on her cheeks, but she nodded.

  "As you wish, Young Master."

  Fang couldn't help feeling disappointed, even though she had given her consent. She was so maddeningly polite and respectful that he wanted to shake her. She was only saying yes because he was her master—or rather, one of her masters. If his brothers also ordered her to perform for them, she wouldn't (and couldn't) refuse, either. It was frustrating, really.

  They rounded a corner to the main street.

  A grand procession was making its way down the street. Everyone in the procession was dressed splendidly in red; even the sedan chair in the middle was decorated with red ribbons and tassels. Trumpets blared, flutes sang, and small bronze gongs clanged. Two women with red peonies in their hair were carrying baskets of candied fruit, which they threw to the onlookers who had gathered on the sides of the streets. Some children squealed with glee when they caught a handful of candy.

  "How splendid!" someone in the audience was saying. "Which prosperous family is marrying off their daughter?"

  "It's the magistrate's daughter," another said. "She just got engaged to Guo's eldest son a while ago."

  "You mean that stupendously wealthy merchant Guo? A good choice, but I thought the magistrate would strive for someone who has a position in the palace. He was doing so well when his eldest daughter became the emperor's Grand Concubine."

  "Times aren't the same as before. Don't you know that merchants can buy their titles now? It's plain hard cash that's of worth now! If I had a daughter, I would also rather she married a rich businessman than a poor official!"

  Fang glanced at the bridegroom, a rather plump young man who sat complacently on a beautiful horse that looked to be imported from Central Asia. Not remotely handsome, but Fang hadn't heard that Guo Yen-Bin had any bad habits. Some young men of rich families had terrible reputations—frequenting brothels, gambling houses, winehouses, etc. Even Fang's two elder brothers occasionally indulged in "pleasure" respites.

  Merchant Guo had made a fortune in the silk market and Guo Yen-Bin himself seemed a decent young man. Looked like the magistrate's daughter was not doing too badly, though her elder sister had done much better.

  Fang had seen the magistrate's daughter, Ho Wen-Jun, several times before. His younger sister, Lynn, was a friend of Wen-Jun's. A stunningly beautiful girl, accomplished in poetry, music, and chess, but she didn't catch his fancy. She wasn't Hong.

  As F
ang noted the satisfied smirk of Guo Yen-Bin, his mind wandered off into a temporary fantasy. Perhaps one day he could also be astride a horse, wearing a red brocaded robe, leading his bride to his home. Then he sobered at the thought. Even if he managed to persuade Hong, according to customs, she could not be anything but a concubine. He would be expected to take a wife first, and intuition told him that it would be a bad decision. Jealous wives who tortured concubines were not unusual. Fang did not fancy letting someone other than Hong share his bed, much less letting a jealous first wife mistreat her.

  There was a light touch on his arm.

  "Young Master?"

  Belatedly, Fang realised that he had gone down the wrong alley. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he had not been conscious of the direction he was going.

  "Are you all right?" she asked solicitously, her hand still on his arm. Her touch seemed to burn through him.

  Fang swallowed. He knew she was only asking out of friendly concern, but still…

  "Of course," he said, his voice sounding gruffer than it should be. "The noise… and there's so many people…" No, he shouldn't have yammered like that, he sounded like such a weakling.

  Hong reached inside her long sleeves and produced a small silken pouch. She extracted a pill and handed it to him.

  "Here, chew on this," she offered. "It's made of peppermint leaves. I sometimes take it when I'm tired."

  Fang took the pill. A cool, refreshing taste spread through his mouth and went up his nose.

  "Where did you get this?" he asked, smiling. "I might need some when Father gives me chores."

  "Mr. Liu, the physician."

  That young man who had come to answer the door? He felt a stab of jealousy.

  "In that case, I should pester him for more the next time I see him," Fang finally said, hoping that he sounded natural. "Does he visit Old Man Liu's place often?"

  "Occasionally."

  Hong did not blush when she spoke of Liu Meng-Ting. Fang decided to put it aside; if she and Meng-Ting were together, they could have had plenty of chances. A tiny, evil part of him also whispered that a mere physician would stand no chance against him, considering their differences in station. But then, if his father decided to take Hong as a concubine, it would be a different playing game. He had to do something—and what better opportunity than the current moment?