The Middle Kingdom

by David Wingrove

  Crimson Lotus clapped her hands in delight. ‘How wonderful, Mother Chua! Soldiers! They keep themselves so fit, so trim!’ She gave a low, seductive laugh and looked across at Sweet Honey. ‘If Mother Chua weren’t here to look after us I’m sure I’d do it for nothing with a soldier!’

  Mu Chua joined their laughter. ‘Yes. But these are not just any soldiers. These are the Great General’s own men, his elite, and you will be paid three times your usual fee. You will entertain them in the Room of Heaven and you will do whatever they ask.’

  ‘Whatever they ask?’ Sweet Honey raised an eyebrow.

  Mu Chua smiled reassuringly at her. ‘Within the rules, of course. They have been told they are not to harm you in any way.’

  ‘And if they are not pleased?’ asked Golden Heart, her face still clouded from the dream she’d had.

  Mu Chua reached out and stroked her cheek tenderly. ‘They are men, child. Of course they will be pleased.’

  Ebert stopped at the curtained doorway and turned to face them. ‘Here we are, my friends. Mu Chua’s. The finest beneath the Net.’

  Fest laughed, delighted, but at his side Haavikko looked uncertain. ‘What is this place?’

  Fest clapped his shoulder and pointed up at the sign of the lotus and the fish above the doorway. ‘What does it look like, Axel? We’re in Flower Streets and Willow Lanes here. In the land of warmth and softness. At home with the family of the green lamps.’ He saw comprehension dawn on Haavikko’s face and laughed again. ‘Yes, Axel, it’s a Sing-Song House. A brothel.’

  He tried to go forward, his arm still about Haavikko’s shoulder, but the young ensign held back.

  ‘No. I don’t want to go in.’ Haavikko swallowed. A faint colour appeared in his cheeks. ‘It… isn’t my thing.’

  Ebert came back to him. ‘You’re a man, aren’t you, Haavikko? Well, then, of course it’s your thing.’

  Haavikko shook his head. ‘You go in. I’ll wait for you.’

  Ebert looked at Fest and raised an eyebrow. Then he looked back at Haavikko. ‘That’s impossible. I’ve booked us in for the night. We’re staying here. This is our billet while we’re down here. Understand?’

  ‘You mean they do more than…?’

  Ebert nodded exaggeratedly, making Fest laugh once more, then he grew more serious. ‘Look, Haavikko, if you don’t want to screw one of the girls you don’t have to. But come inside, eh? Mu Chua will bring you a meal and show you to a room. You can watch a trivee or something while Fest and I enjoy ourselves.’

  Haavikko looked down, angered by the slightly mocking tone in Ebert’s voice. ‘Isn’t there somewhere else I could stay?’

  Ebert huffed, losing his patience suddenly. ‘Oh, for the gods’ sake, Fest, order him inside! Don’t you understand, Haavikko? We’re a squad. We need to be together when the call comes. What’s the fucking good if you’re somewhere else?’

  Haavikko looked to Fest, who smiled apologetically. ‘It’s true, Axel. My orders are to keep us together at all times. Look, why don’t you do what Hans has suggested? Come inside and take a room. Then, if you change your mind, you’ve not far to go.’

  ‘I’ve told you…’

  ‘Yes, yes. I understand. Now come inside. I order you. All right?’

  Inside Mu Chua greeted them expansively, then led them through to a large room at the back of the House where three girls were waiting. As they entered the girls knelt and bowed their heads, then looked up at them, smiling, expectant, as if waiting for them to make their choice. Axel stared at them, surprised. They were not at all what he had expected, neither was this place the gaudy den of harlotry he had so often seen in vid dramas.

  ‘What is this room called?’ he asked, surprising both Ebert and Fest by being the first to speak.

  The girl on the far left looked briefly across at her companions, then looked up at Axel, smiling radiantly. ‘This is the Room of Heaven. Here a man may dream and live his dreams.’

  She was beautiful. Even for these tiny Han types she was quite exceptional, and Axel felt something stir in him despite himself. She wore a bright red satin ch’i p’ao patterned with tiny blue flowers and cranes and varicoloured butterflies, the long, one-piece dress wrapped concealingly about her dainty figure. Her hair had been cut in a swallowtail bang, the two wings swept down over a pale ivory brow that would have graced the daughter of a T’ang, a clasp of imitation pearls holding the dark flow of her black hair in a tight, unbraided queue. Her hands, small as a child’s, were unadorned, the nails varnished but unpainted. She was so astonishing, so unexpected, that he could not help but stare at her, his lips parted, his eyes wide.

  ‘What do they call you?’

  She bowed her head again, a faint smile playing on her tiny, rosebud lips. ‘My name is Crimson Lotus.’

  ‘Well!’ said Ebert, laughing. ‘I see Haavikko has made his choice.’

  Axel broke from the spell. ‘No. Not at all. I… I meant what I said. This…’ He looked about him again, surprised anew by the tastefulness, the simple luxury of the room and its furnishings. ‘This isn’t my thing.’

  He looked back down at the girl and saw, behind the surface smile, a faint hint of disappointment in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. At once he felt upset that he had hurt her, even in so small a way, by his inadvertence. ‘I’m sorry…’ he started to say, but Ebert spoke over him.

  ‘Ladies, please forgive our friend. We thought we might change his mind by bringing him to your most excellent house, but it seems he’s adamant.’ Ebert looked to Fest and smiled. ‘I should explain. My friend is ya, you understand? A yellow eel.’

  Haavikko frowned, not understanding. His knowledge of basic Mandarin included neither term. But the girls understood at once.

  ‘My pardon, honourable sir,’ said Crimson Lotus, her face clear, her smile suddenly resplendent, showing her pearl-white perfect teeth. ‘If you will but wait a moment I shall call back Mother Chua. I am certain she could provide you with a boy.’

  Axel turned to face Ebert, furious.

  Ebert roared with laughter, enjoying the confusion on the faces of the girls. Ignoring the edge in Axel’s voice, he reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘Only a joke, my friend. Only a joke.’

  The girls were looking from one to the other of the soldiers, their faces momentarily anxious. Then they too joined in with Ebert’s laughter, their heads lowered, one hand raised to their mouths, their laughter like the faint, distant laughter of children.

  Axel turned away from Ebert and looked at them again, letting his anger drain from him. Then he smiled and gave the slightest bow. No, he thought. Make nothing of it. It is Ebert’s way. He cannot help it if he is ill-bred and ill-mannered. It comes from being who he is: heir to one of the biggest financial empires in Chung Kuo. He does not have to behave as Fest and I. We serve, but he only plays at being a servant. He, after all, is a master.

  Yes, but watch yourself, Hans Ebert. One day you’ll make one joke too many, speak out of place once too often, and then your riches will not help you. No, or your connections.

  The smallest of the girls rose with a bow and came towards them, head lowered. ‘Would the gentlemen like ch’a?’

  Ebert answered for them. ‘Gods, no! Bring us something stronger. Some wine. And something to eat, too. I’m ravenous!’

  Embarrassed by Ebert’s brash, proprietorial manner and awkward on his own account, Axel watched the others sit on cushions Crimson Lotus brought for them. ‘Will you not sit with us?’ she asked him, coming much closer than she had before. The sweet delicacy of her scent was intoxicating and her dark eyes were like a lover’s, sharing some secret understanding.

  ‘I’d best not,’ he said, rather too stiffly. My sister… he had almost added. He looked down, suddenly embarrassed. Yes, that was why. He had promised his sister. Had sworn on his honour that he would keep himself clean. Would not do as other men did.

  He shuddered then met the girl’s eyes again. ‘If you would sen
d for Mu Chua. Perhaps she would find me a room. I’ll eat there and take my rest.’

  Crimson Lotus smiled, unoffended, nothing behind her smile this time. Her disappointment had been momentary; now she was the perfect hostess once more, all personal thoughts banished. ‘If you will wait a moment, I shall summon her.’

  But Mu Chua had been watching everything. She appeared in the doorway at once, knowing what to do, what to say in this instance. She had been told beforehand that it might be so.

  ‘Please follow me, Shih Haavikko. There is a room prepared. I will take you there.’

  Axel bowed, grateful, then looked across at Ebert and Fest. Fest met his eyes and gave the briefest nod, acknowledging his departure, but Ebert ignored him, concentrating on the young girl – she looked barely ten – who sat beside him now.

  ‘What is the young girl’s name?’ Haavikko asked Mu Chua, keeping his voice low.

  Mu Chua smiled. ‘That’s Golden Heart. She’s the baby of the house. A sweet young thing, don’t you think?’

  He stared at the girl a moment longer, then turned back to Mu Chua. ‘If you would take me to my room.’

  Mu Chua smiled, all understanding. ‘Of course.’

  Axel woke to find the room dark, a strange smell in the air. He sat up suddenly, alert, his training taking over, then remembered where he was and forced himself to relax. But still he felt on edge. Something was wrong.

  He heard it. Heard the second thread of breathing in the silent darkness. He felt to his left. Nothing. Then to his right. His hand met a soft warmth.

  He swallowed, recognizing the musky smell for what it was. What had they done? Drugged him? And what else? He had seen too many covert operations not to feel vulnerable. What if Ebert had set this up? What if he’d had him drugged, then taped what he’d subsequently done? He shivered and slowly edged away from the girl – was it a girl? – who lay there next to him in the bed, then felt behind him for a lighting panel.

  His hand met the slight indentation in the wall. At once a soft light lay across the centre of the bed, blurring into darkness.

  Axel gasped and his eyes widened, horrified. ‘Kuan Yin preserve me!’ he whispered.

  The girl was Hung Mao. A tall, blonde-haired girl with full breasts and an athletic build. She lay there, undisturbed by the light, one hand up at her neck, the fingers laced into her long, thick hair, the other resting on her smoothly muscled stomach, the fingers pointing down to the rich growth of pubic hair.

  Axel stared at her, horrified and yet fascinated, his eyes drawn to her ice-white breasts, to the soft, down-covered swell of her sex. Then he looked at her face again and shuddered. So like her. So very like her.

  He turned away, then looked back, his eyes drawn once more to those parts of her he’d never seen. Never dreamed he’d see.

  It couldn’t be. Surely…?

  ‘Vesa…’ he whispered, leaning closer. ‘Vesa…’ It was his sister’s name.

  The head turned, the eyes opened. Astonishingly blue eyes, like his sister’s. But different. Oh, so thankfully different. And yet…

  He pushed the thought back sharply. But it came again. Like Vesa. So very like his darling sister Vesa.

  The girl smiled up at him and reached out for him, making a small sound of pleasure deep in her throat.

  Instinctively he moved back slightly, tensed, but he was betrayed. Slowly his penis filled with blood until, engorged, it stood out stiffly. And when she reached for it and took it he could do nothing but close his eyes, ashamed and yet grateful.

  As he entered her he opened his eyes and looked at her again. ‘What’s your name?’

  She laughed softly, and for the briefest moment the movement of her body against his own slowed and became uncertain. ‘Don’t you remember, Axel? I’m White Orchid. Your little flower.’ Then she laughed again, more raucously this time, her body pressing up against his, making him cry out with the pleasure of it. ‘And he said you were ya…’

  ‘Shall I wake him?’

  ‘No, Mother Chua. Let him sleep a little longer. The fight is not for another two hours yet. There’s plenty of time. Did he enjoy himself?’

  Mu Chua smiled but did not answer. Some things she would do for money. Others were against her code. Spying on her guests was one of them. She studied Ebert a moment, trying to establish what it was made him so different from the others who came here. Perhaps it was just the sheer rudeness of the man. His ready assumption that he could have anything, buy anything. She didn’t like him, but then it wasn’t her job to like all of her clients. As it was, he had brought her something valuable – the two Hung Mao girls.

  ‘Have you made your mind up yet?’

  Ebert did not look at her. There was a faint smile on his lips. ‘I can choose anyone?’

  ‘That was our deal.’

  ‘Then I’ll take the girl. Golden Heart.’

  Mu Chua looked down. It was as she had expected. ‘She’s untrained,’ she said, knowing it was hopeless but trying to persuade him even so.

  ‘I know. That’s partly why I chose her. I could train her myself. To my own ways.’

  Mu Chua shuddered, wondering what those ways would be. For a moment she considered going back on the deal and returning the two Hung Mao girls, but she knew that it made no sense either to throw away such a certain attraction as the barbarian shen nu nor to make an enemy of Hans Ebert.

  ‘Are you certain she’s not too young?’

  Ebert merely laughed.

  ‘Then I’ll draw up the contracts. It will be as agreed. The two girls for the one. And this evening’s entertainment free.’

  ‘As we agreed,’ said Ebert, smiling to himself.

  Mu Chua studied him again, wondering what game he was playing with his fellow officer. She had seen the way he bullied and insulted him. Why, then, had he been so insistent that she drug him and send the Hung Mao girl to him? There seemed no love lost between the two men, so what was Ebert’s design?

  She bowed and smiled, for once feeling the hollowness of her smile, then turned and went to bring the contract. But she was thinking of Golden Heart’s dream. Ebert was the tiger come out of the West, and last night he had mated with her. Insatiably, so Golden Heart had said: wildly, his passion barely short of violence. And though there was no chance of Golden Heart conceiving, Mu Chua could not help but think of the image in the dream – the image of the grey-white snake. In most cases it was an auspicious symbol – sign that the dreamer would bear a boy child. But the snake in the dream had been cold and dead.

  She shuddered. The first part of the dream had proved so right, how could the second not come about in time? And then, what misery for Golden Heart. Eat your year cakes now, thought Mu Chua as she took the contract from the drawer in her room and turned to go back. Celebrate now beneath the rainbow-coloured clouds, for soon Golden Heart will be broken. And I can do nothing. Nothing at all.

  When he woke the second time he knew she would be there, beside him in the bed. He turned and looked at her, all shame, all horror purged from him, only love and a vague desire remaining. For a moment he was still, silent, watching her, a faint smile on his face. Then, as he watched, there was movement at the mouth of her sex. A dark and slender shape seemed to press up between the soft, pale lips of flesh. Slowly it emerged, stretching a thumbnail’s length and more into the air, its blind snout moving purposively, as if sniffing the air. Axel stared at it, fascinated and horrified. It was alive – a living thing! He gave a small cry of shock and surprise and the thing vanished, as though it had never been, burrowing back down into the soft, moist folds of flesh.

  His cry woke her. She sat up abruptly, her eyes as blue as a northern sea, heavy with sleep. ‘Axel… What is it?’

  She focused on his face and seemed to come awake suddenly, seeing the horror there.

  ‘Gods, what is it?’ She got up and moved towards him, but he backed away, fending her off with his hands. She stopped still, her body tensed, and lowered her head a frac
tion, staring at him. ‘Tell me what it is, Axel. Please. Was it a bad dream?’

  He pointed at her. ‘Something…’

  It was all he could say, but it seemed she understood. She sat back on the bed, folding her hands in her lap. ‘Ah… I see.’

  She let out a deep breath. ‘What you saw…’ She shrugged and looked up at him, strangely vulnerable. ‘We all have them.’ Her look was as much as to say, Surely you knew about this? Surely you’ve heard?

  ‘I…’ he swallowed. ‘I don’t understand.’

  She stared at him a moment longer, then reached down into the folds of her sex and gently began to coax something from within. Axel watched, wide-eyed, as she lifted the thing with her fingers and placed it gently in the palm of her right hand, extending it towards him so that he could see it clearly.

  ‘Look. It’s all right. It won’t hurt you. It’s perfectly harmless.’

  It was an insect of some kind. Or so it first appeared. A dark, slender, worm-like shape half the length of a finger. It was smooth and perfectly black. Unsegmented. Unmarked. It seemed blind; devoid, in fact, of all sensory equipment. And yet it had reacted swiftly to his cry.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, coming closer, unable to conceal a shudder.

  ‘As I said, we all have them. All of the girls, that is. They keep us clean, you see. GenSyn developed them. They live off bacteria – special kinds of bacteria. Aids, herpes, venereal diseases of all kinds.’

  He wrinkled up his nose. ‘Gods,’ he said. ‘And it’s been there all the time. While we were…?’

  ‘All the time. But it never gets in the way. It lives in a special sack in my womb. It only comes out when it senses I’m asleep or perfectly relaxed. It’s a parasite, you see. A benevolent one.’ She smiled and petted the thing in her hand, then gently put it back.

  There was a knock on the door. Axel looked about him.

  ‘Here,’ said the girl, handing him a robe, but taking nothing for herself.

  He wrapped the er-silk pau about him, then turned to face the door. ‘Come in!’