by Aya Ling
Meng-Ting nodded knowingly. "Ah, I had no idea my little hobby was so popular. Wish it was my winning personality rather than my rouge." He disappeared into another room and soon emerged with a small pouch of bright red silk. "This contains my latest concoction. I've written up the instructions, in case you might forget. The effects, I believe, are better than the lotion I gave you last time. Hope it will come to good use soon."
Hong thanked him and secured the pouch in her bosom pocket. Both of them knew well that whenever she asked for a "beauty product," it actually meant that she needed more poison or drugs.
When she reached Old Man Liu's compound, the door wasn't bolted so she went straight in. Liu was not in the courtyard, nor was he in the compound. Hong paused in one of the rooms and listened. She thought she heard faint sounds of needles cutting through the air, so she walked towards the northeast of the compound, where a small gate led to a clump of tall maple trees outside.
Old Man Liu was sitting on a large rock, his right hand holding a bunch of needles. There was a breeze in the air, lifting the strands of his greying hair and making the ends of his long sleeves flutter. A stronger gust of wind came up, bringing a shower of large maple leaves down to the ground. Before the leaves hit the earth, however, Liu raised his hand.
Gleams of silver flashed in the swirl of yellow and red. Hong squinted; a dozen or so maple leaves were pinned to the tree trunk by Liu's silver needles.
"Retrieve the needles." Old Man Liu spoke without even looking at her.
Hong was already moving towards the tree. She couldn't help but marvel how her sifu had managed to catch the falling leaves while relying on his hearing alone. Could she do the same with her eyes blindfolded?
As if reading her thoughts, Liu said, "Take the needles and come here. When the next wind arises, close your eyes and let the needles fly."
Hong obeyed.
Her first couple tries were dismal. Just one or two maple leaves were pinned successfully to the tree. Her past training had sharpened her eyesight and hearing, but she had yet to try aiming in complete darkness. She still had a long way to go before she could emulate her sifu. Were Meng-Ting present, he might have tried cheating by keeping his eyes open, but Hong did not bother. She respected her sifu too much.
"Don't be impatient, girl," Liu growled. "Listen with your soul, as you do with music."
"Yes, sifu."
Hong took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. This time, she tried not to think at all—not to let her determination to succeed occupy her head. Instead, she cleared all thoughts from her mind and just let herself soak up the surroundings. Around her, she could feel the coolness of autumn air against her skin, smell the crispness of the leaves, and gradually, every tiny nuance of movement seemed to be within hearing. It was as if she were no longer human, she was now part of nature.
Then the wind came.
She raised her hand, almost by pure instinct. She could hear the faintest crackle and rustle of the maple leaves, could feel the wind currents running around the leaves, bringing them down…
The needles burst from her fingers and whipped through the air. When she heard the tiny thuds of needles hitting the trunk, she knew she had done better.
Hong opened her eyes. But even before she could count the maple leaves, her sifu spoke.
"Eight. I see you have grasped the principle, girl."
Hong couldn't help feeling a small elation from a sense of achievement.
"Thank you, sifu."
She remained standing where she was, however. Surely her sifu had not asked Meng-Ting to send for her just to introduce a new training method. There must be something more.
"I have another mission for you," Old Man Liu said. "This one will be more difficult than the corrupt officers and lecherous merchants you used to dispose of. He is a well-trained fighter of hand-to-hand combat, and his martial abilities are said to be the best in the city. However, with the new drug Meng-Ting has concocted and the improvement of your skills, you should be able to take care of him without too much difficulty."
Hong brushed off a small leaf that had fallen on her shoulder. "May I enquire the fighter you speak of?"
"Yao. He's currently the star fighter at Duel of Death."
TWELVE
"According to our sources," Old Man Liu said, twirling a needle between his fingers, "Yao was a bodyguard who worked for the magistrate. A very capable fighter he was, being tall and muscular, and he trained in the Shaolin School for Non-Religious People, which means of course that he received the best martial arts education. However, he became dangerous when he took up drinking. The magistrate had to dismiss him when he killed a harmless old servant in a fit of drunken rage."
"So where is Yao now?" Hong said.
"He took on some odd jobs, but eventually ended up as a professional wrestler at Duel of Death. He takes a good percentage for every fight he wins—and it's said he lost only once in the two-hundred-odd games he's participated in! Not a bad job—better than brick-laying or cattle-keeping, anyway. Of course, for the true martial artist, selling your skills in a brawl is not respectable. But does Yao care? From what I've heard, he revels in beating up his opponents. Killed one of them, too."
Hong looked down at her hands. She had never been assigned to kill a fighter, and from the picture Liu was painting, it'd be a tasteless job. Could she really succeed? In the past, she had managed to kill easily because the opponents knew nothing about martial arts, but against a professional fighter who had lost only once?
"If it's just killing in the profession, then we wouldn't be bothered," Old Man Liu said. "Injuries happen to the wrestling folks every day. They even have to sign a life-death sheet before plunging into battle—you know, a testimony that no matter what happens in the arena, the loser or his family will not seek revenge. But girlie, Yao has killed innocent people. That young boy Meng-Ting employed—Ah-Ming is his name, eh? Yao got drunk a few days ago and knocked over a noodle shop by the street. Hot noodle soup splashed all over him."
Hong's eyes widened.
"Turns out the noodle shop owner is Ah-Ming's father. Yao was furious when he was scalded by the soup. Got into a quarrel with the poor man, and in the end, Yao gave him a blow that cracked his ribs. And he didn't stop. The witnesses said that Yao kept on hitting him, blow after blow, until the man crumpled up in a puddle of his own blood."
Hong clenched her fists. "Nothing was done?"
"The people at Duel of Death covered up the best they could. They're rolling in dough—the arena is always fully packed, and the managers also run the biggest gambling house in town. They threatened the few witnesses and told them not to let the matter reach the magistrate—though even if it did, I don't think it'll make any difference. Magistrate Ho is just as corrupted and weak as any official at court. Gift him a chest filled with gold and he'll lick the dirt off your shoes."
"What about Ah-Ming's family?"
"There's only the old grandmother left. She couldn't do anything, not even complain. Meng-Ting reported to me that Manager Liang, along with three brawny minions, visited the house and told her to keep quiet or her grandson will be in trouble. So what can the grandmother do but shut her mouth and bury her son? She had to beg from the neighbours to pool together enough coppers for a reed mat and hire help to dig the grave. Meng-Ting also shared the expense when he learnt about it, or Ah-Ming would have to find labour work to pay for it. He's only ten, girlie!"
Even Old Man Liu, gruff and irascible, sounded cracked when he spoke.
Hong silently wiped a tear. She couldn't believe it was only a few days ago that she sat down to a bowl of noodle soup at Ah-Ming's father's shop. The poor child. No wonder he had looked so depressed.
"This has to be stopped," she found herself saying.
Old Man Liu cleared his throat. "I've planned it out for you, girlie. The next wrestling match will be tomorrow night. Tell your master that I require your presence, but go to Meng-Ting's first. He'll provide you
with a disguise. You shall dress up as a man, enter Duel of Death, and find a chance to poison Yao. Meng-Ting should have given you the poison already—yes, that's the bottle. The poison will not work immediately; it takes effect best when one is exercising and the blood runs fast in one's veins. Let Yao die in the fighting ring—preferably by the hand of his opponent. Make sure your disguise is flawless so no one will suspect you!"
Hong bowed her head. "It shall be done, sifu."
Back at the governor's compound, Fang paced the floor in his room. Shu-Mo sat cross-legged in a corner, polishing the sheath of Fang's dagger.
"So how did it go at the brothel?" Shu-Mo said.
"Not bad." Fang ran a hand through his hair. "Chow's debts are taken care of. Also, I met Mr. Liang. He's the owner of Duel of Death, and he promised to let me meet Yao. Yao has a fight with a martial artist from the South tomorrow night."
"That simple? Liang knows that you suspect Yao has murdered Opal, yet he readily agrees to give you Yao's address?"
"I was surprised as well," Fang said slowly. "He probably thinks I'm no threat. Yao has a nickname of Invincible. Besides…" He stopped, not wanting to mention that Moon Fairy had taken Liang's arm and urged him to say yes. That courtesan was simply irresistible. It had taken Fang a good amount of willpower not to accept her invitation for a cup of wine. Even though she clearly manifested an interest in him, it simply wasn't in his nature to court another, not when he was still hopelessly in love with Hong.
"Besides what?" Shu-Mo asked curiously.
"Nothing. No matter what, I should go to Yao's house tomorrow to find out. It's quite likely that he murdered Chow's wife due to a fit of jealousy."
"I don't like the idea of confronting someone from Duel of Death," Shu-Mo said, as he sharpened Fang's sword on the grindstone. "Maybe the girl committed suicide because she didn't want to be burdened with those debts anymore. Or maybe… here's a thought. Maybe Chow killed his wife because he discovered her liaison with Yao!"
"Hold your tongue," Fang said sharply. "Chow isn't that kind of person. We have no proof that Opal was carrying on an affair behind his back—she only concealed her debts from her husband. Why would she continue her affair with a man who has clearly displayed a violent nature?"
"Oh, some women are idiots," Shu-Mo said, shaking his head. "Young Master, you remember the laundry lady? She got a blackened eye again from her abusive husband, but she doesn't want to leave him. Golden Lotus said she only vowed a few weeks ago she would never take him back after what he did to her, but all it takes is a few pretty words and a bowed head, and she believes that things will be changed for the better."
"My friend is no murderer," Fang reiterated. "Tomorrow we will seek Yao and make him confess."
Shu-Mo had an expression that said he didn't approve, but he resumed his sharpening more vigorously. "By the way, Hong was asking where you went this morning."
Fang stopped his pacing. "She was asking for me?"
"She saw me at the market, where I was—er—she saw me anyway, and I guess she found it weird that you weren't around. So she asked where you were."
"Only that? She didn't say anything about maybe seeing me later?"
"I'm afraid not, Young Master." Seeing that Fang looked disappointed, Shu-Mo hastily added, "But she didn't just walk away. A boy came to find her—I think it was the boy from Mr. Liu, the apothecary—so she had to leave."
His attempt to comfort his master failed, especially when he mentioned Meng-Ting. Fang scowled. What kind of business was Liu Meng-Ting bothering Hong for? She was a musician, not a physician.
"Well, let's hope things will go well tomorrow," Fang said, deciding he would seek Hong later. Once this matter of Opal was taken care of, he would commence seriously his pursuit of Hong. He had always wanted her, and he was not going to give up without trying.
THIRTEEN
Hong touched her hair self-consciously when she stopped in front of Duel of Death, making sure it was securely bound in her cloth cap. Even though men also wore their hair down, her features would look more feminine if her hair escaped from its high knot and tumbled around her face, and thus it would be easier to discover she was a woman. Not that cross-dressing was a complete novelty. Hong had seen women dressing up as men and partaking in masculine pursuits—even in wrestling—but the more distance she could put between her and her identity as the governor's maidservant, the better.
She was dressed in long, baggy trousers and a tunic the colour of dull grey (no female at the Shue household would be caught wearing that colour), her hair completely tied up in a bun. She did have makeup smeared over her face, but it was a yellow-brownish substance Meng-Ting had provided, so her skin would look darker and thus more weather-battered.
Hong gritted her teeth, remembering how Meng-Ting had fussed over her just a while ago, when he was getting her ready for the masquerade.
"Throw back your shoulders when you walk, Hong," Meng-Ting had said. "Heavens, when was the last time Grandfather had you masquerade as a man? You have to act less refined! How about clearing your throat and spitting?"
"Cannot I pretend to be a scholar instead?" Hong had asked, tugging at her sash with frustration. Her figure was not curvy, but the breast bands felt so restrictive. She was more at ease with posing as a well-bred lady or a courtesan.
"Scholars don't frequent wrestling rings," Meng-Ting had said. "Well, perhaps a few do, but you'd better be prepared to offer a damned good reason. You know, the scholars who also practise with a sword because they think it looks fashionable—their skills are showy and lack substance. Real fighting is brutal and ugly, and thank heavens I'm not forced to partake in anything like it."
"It doesn't make you less intimidating," Hong said, holding up a needle tip that had been submerged in poison for several hours. "You can still kill… and be a lot stealthier."
"I'm a physician!" Meng-Ting insisted. "I heal rather than harm. But if I had the chance—I'd run a knife through that Yao if I could. Ah-Ming has stopped speaking completely, you know? I've been trying to get him to open up—I haven't even seen the child cry, he's hurting too much inside. All I can do now is send food baskets to his grandmother, who's begging me to keep things quiet. She lost her son already, she doesn't want to lose another loved one."
"Understandable." Hong fitted a dagger in her boot. "But if we don't stop him now, there's no telling when Yao will go into another drunken rage. No more innocent lives should be sacrificed."
Hong scanned the fight arena ahead. She had never been here before, though Old Man Liu had mentioned she should visit some time. She could learn a thing from observing how others fight, even though the fights at Duel of Death were not "real." Despite its ominous name, fighting to the death was not received favourably. People paid to see a satisfying battle, to see fighters pushed to the verge of death but not actually dying.
There was a deafening roar from the crowd inside. Maybe a winner was being announced.
Hong wondered if Yao was already in battle. As the best wrestler in the place, he would not be fighting so early. He would probably be located in a special room somewhere, getting ready for final domination.
When she tried to enter, two burly men stopped her at the door.
"Admission fee," one growled.
Hong hesitated, wondering if she had enough on her.
"You look like a greenie," the other said, staring at her face. "Never been here before?"
Hong nodded.
"Two strings of copper, then," the man said. "We're cutting you some slack. And make it quick, we haven't all day."
She had exactly three strings of copper with her. Hong sighed inwardly and dug out the money. Not that she needed a lot to spend, but two strings of copper was easily a week's wages for a poor family. How easy it was for people to gamble away their hard-earned money!
Once she was allowed entrance, Hong scanned the interior. A sturdy wooden stage had been erected in the middle of a huge courtyard. The audience, mos
tly men, gathered around the stage, their attention riveted on the two wrestlers fighting on top.
In the back of the stage was a long house guarded by a dozen heavyset men, all of them armed with various weapons from swords to whips. One had a row of throwing knives displayed openly on his sleeve. Hong wondered how accurate his aim was.
She couldn't resist a peek at the stage. One wrestler was large and bulky, yet he moved surprisingly fast for a man of his size. The other wrestler was tall and lean, and his moves were fluid and poised, as though he had choreographed his fight routine. Both of them wore their hair in a tight ponytail, their torsos bare and slick with sweat.
Suddenly, the large man lunged forward, attempting to catch the tall man's ankles. His opponent, quick to sense the attack, reacted by aiming a powerful kick at the large man's forehead.
Wrong move.
Snap.
The large man brought his hands together, trapping the tall man's foot between his hands. With a deft twist, he dislocated the ankle joint, causing the tall man to gasp in pain. Using the precious few seconds, the large man caught the tall man's waist, lifted him in the air, and dumped him unceremoniously on the ground. Bones cracked when the tall man hit the floor.
The winner was obvious.
Below, the commotion was thunderous. Those who had staked their money on the large man were roaring with glee, while those who had had faith in the tall man looked sullen and frustrated. Several assistants leaped on the stage and started to escort the tall man off the stage.
"Damn." A man near her balled his fists. "Half my savings gone! Who'd have known that oaf would win? Damn!"
Hong sidled up to him. "Brother, perhaps you'd have better luck laying your odds on Yao the Invincible instead? I heard it's a sure bet."