The Old Dragon's Head

by Justin Newland

  “What brings you to my door?” she asked. Her concern seemed genuine.

  “My mother told me that you… have some letters for me,” he said, glancing around as if to make sure no one overheard him.

  “Yes, I have. You mean the ones from Tiande?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Ru found them the other day when you mother asked me about them. Ru, can you find General Tiande’s letters for us?”

  Ru moved by him into the ordered chaos of the main room and sniffed the air like a cat taking bearings. Ru edged towards the line of caskets and stopped at the one nearest the door. Opening the lid, he delved inside and after rustling through some papers, pulled out an envelope with an imperial yellow silk tie. With a triumphant smile, he handed it to Luli.

  “Well done, Ru, thank you.” She rewarded him with a warm smile and an affectionate pat on the hand.

  Outside, a solitary cart trundled up the street, setting off the dogs again.

  “Yes, these are they all right,” Luli said and passed them to him.

  His courtesy name, ‘Feng’, was written in neat calligraphy on the outside of the envelope. The truth was within his reach. Feverish with possibilities, he ached to know what was inside. Was it information that would defeat the Emperor? Or was it the location of secret plunder from the General’s military campaigns? He could do with inheriting a tidy fortune.

  He tore it open, only to find… another envelope tucked inside the first.

  “That’s strange,” Luli said.

  “It certainly is,” he mused. “There are more instructions written on it.”

  “Read them for us,” Luli said, craning her neck. She was as curious as he was.

  “‘This envelope contains private documents for the eyes of my son, Xu Yingxu. However, they are only to be passed to him in the advent of the death of both his adoptive parents, Magistrate Park and Lady Lan. Signed, General Xu Da, courtesy name Tiande.’”

  Feng dropped the documents on the table and clasped his head in his hands. Karma had set another barrier in front of him. The documents must contain vital information; otherwise the general would not have given them to Luli for safe-keeping.

  Luli stared him in the eye and asked with defiance, “These letters were left over twenty years ago and as it says, are only to be given to his son. But aren’t you Park and Lan’s son? I wondered why he had left them for you and why your mother had asked me about them. What’s going on? I don’t understand. Why do you want them?”

  He paused. There was going to be an irrevocable change in his life. He had to admit to the truth of his situation. And he had to trust her. “I am Xu Yingxu, fourth son of my father, General Xu Da, courtesy name Tiande.”

  There. The world knew.

  Luli raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t known. With her yin-yang eyes, he had always thought she knew things about other people without anyone ever telling her. Evidently, this was an exception.

  “How can I be sure about this?” she asked.

  “Because I am telling you.” Now he worried she did not believe him.

  Luli frowned and shook her head. “Understand that in my situation, Feng, I have to be vigilant. Look around, there are things of great beauty and value here – jade statues, exquisite porcelain vases and precious drawings – all left in my safe-keeping by people who trusted me to pass them on to their rightful soul successor. Alas, a lot of deceitful people come in here and claim to be who they are not. Imposters stand to gain a lot from these bequests and gifts, so I have to exercise caution to make sure I don’t give them to the wrong people.”

  “Look at this then.” He handed her Park’s deathbed instructions.

  She read it over and nodded, “I understand now. I believe you.”

  He reached across to pick up the General’s letters from the table, but she grabbed them before he could.

  “I can’t let you have them,” she said, secreting them in her sleeve.

  The bellow of an ox burst into their conversation from outside. That was just about how he felt. “Why not? I’ve proved to you who I am,” he protested.

  “Yes, you have, but your father’s instructions,” she said, pointing to the yellow tie, “specify that I can only release it after the death of both your step parents. At the risk of sounding insensitive, your adoptive mother is still alive. May she reside in strength with the Tao.”

  “I see,” he said. Being a young man, the art of waiting was a long way away; somewhere in Tibet, as far as he was concerned. “All right. Thank you for your time and the tea,” he said, swallowing his frustration. “I shall go home and look after my adoptive mother.”

  “Yes, of course,” Luli said getting up.

  He glanced at her. Her face wore a mask of intense pride and yet, her skin was radiant. She had a strong forehead, jet-black hair tied into a neat bun, high cheek-bones and piercing jade green eyes. All those features were like a declining spring flower. She sensed his intrusive stare and turned away.

  “Oh, there’s one more thing,” he said.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Please keep this conversation secret. As you can appreciate, there are many opponents of my family who would pay dearly to know of the whereabouts of the missing son of the famous General Tiande.”

  “I understand,” she said modestly. “It’s safe with me. Don’t forget to ask Precious to make that tisane for Lady Lan.”

  “I will,” Feng said, “thank you.”

  Ru opened the door for him, a dreamy expression on his face. For a moment, Feng was envious of the boy-man’s blissful ignorance of the cruel vicissitudes of life. As he stepped over the threshold, he caught another whiff of camphor wood.

  Outside, Qitong was waiting for him; as were the dogs, who were yapping at each other.

  Feng joined the cacophony and stepped into the shadows of his new life.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Shadow of Ignominy

  Beware the barbarian, they are cunning and deceitful.

  When they trade in our markets,

  How do we know they don’t intend to spy on China?

  If we seek a small gain of horses but fail to take precaution against danger,

  We stand to suffer great losses.

  THE GREAT MING CODE

  Luli clasped Ru’s hand in hers. On a cold day, the smile in Ru’s eyes warmed her heart. She paused to re-wrap his bandanna around his neck. She had never known why, but out of all the scarves he owned, he always chose the yellow bandanna.

  The market was bustling with hungry villagers, off-duty soldiers, merchants, shop keepers and servants buying for their households. Luli kept him well away from the wall and its long, grasping shadow.

  Granny Dandan was passing and they stopped to talk. Luli noticed that she had about the same down of fluff on her chin as her Ru, which wasn’t much. Luli knew her as Precious’ mother, but also as a busy-body, gossip and fortune teller, who plied her trade in the market.

  Luli asked, “How is the Lady Lan today?”

  “Fragile,” Granny Dandan replied, in that croaky voice of hers. “I fear for her. She’s confined to bed and pining for her poor dead husband. I’ve seen it before and it doesn’t end well. How often does a widow join her deceased husband in Heaven before the elapse of the forty-nine days of mourning? And it’s only six days since Park had his life ripped away from him by that monster.”

  Luli agreed with her and noticed Ru wander off into the market. “Ru, stay close by.” He acknowledged with a cursory backward wave and carried on regardless.

  “Listen, you’ll be interested to hear what Precious told me,” Granny Dandan said, her voice softening to a whisper. “Feng recently attended an audience with the Prince and I know what was said.”

  Luli cocked an interested ear. “Everyone knows Bao was installed as interim mag
istrate.”

  “Yes, but do you know who is appointed to the permanent position?”

  “Tell us,” she said.

  “The man is no stranger to Shanhaiguan,” Granny said.

  “What’s the big secret? Who is he?” My, she was drawing this out.

  Before Granny Dandan could answer, shouts filled the air like thunderclaps. There was a dispute near to the apothecary’s stall where Ru was standing. The crowd dispersed like a flock of birds frightened by a cat. A young man wearing a yellow bandanna emerged out of the crowd. In one hand, he clutched a knapsack. Snatching a backward glance, the man wasn’t looking where he was going and was heading straight for Ru. The boy-man was slow to react and the two collided, falling in a heap. By accident, Ru’s flailing arm hooked through one of its straps. The young man must have been chased by demons, because he sprung up and hurried off, leaving the knapsack behind. A portly man with a ruddy complexion ran through a gap in the crowd and appeared to be giving chase to the fugitive. Puffing and panting, he shouted,

  “Stop! Thief!”

  Ru sat up, bemused, the knapsack hanging off his arm and his favourite yellow bandanna sitting lopsided on his head.

  The portly man grabbed Ru by the elbow and yelled in triumph, “Got you. This man’s a thief. Call the constable.”

  Ru squirmed at this abrupt and unexpected attention. The crowd congealed around him. People prodded him as if he was a circus exhibit. Luli was by his side in a flash.

  “No!” she insisted. “This is a mistake. It wasn’t him, it was the other man,” she pointed to the direction in which he had run.

  “You’re wrong,” the portly man insisted, wiping his brow with a ’kerchief, his assistants standing behind him and bristling with righteous indignation. “I saw what happened,” he continued. “The thief stole twenty taels of silver from my carpet stall. And here it is,” he said, yanking the knapsack from the bewildered Ru. “And look, the thief was wearing a yellow bandanna. This is him!”

  “No, no, no,” Luli said. “This isn’t right. Ru’s innocent. He’s a good boy.”

  “Not any more, he isn’t,” the carpet merchant said. “I come here to trade in peace and look what happens. Shanhaiguan was once a safe trading post. Not anymore. Today criminals are running amuck.”

  The constable arrived, a huge barrel of a man, wielding a heavy flat stick.

  “Arrest this man,” the merchant said. “This knapsack has all my takings. He stole it.”

  The crowd were gesticulating at Ru, who was like a beached whale, gawky, helpless and divorced from his natural element.

  “There’s no use protesting your innocence,” the constable insisted. “You’ll have to stand up before the new magistrate to do that.”

  Ru was spouting nonsense. No one seemed to take any notice.

  “He’s guilty as hell,” the merchant shouted, clutching his knapsack to his chest.

  “That’s evidence, give it to me,” the constable said, snatching the knapsack.

  “No,” the merchant protested. “I need those funds… to feed my family.”

  “He’s right,” Granny Dandan chimed. “That’s not fair.”

  “I’ll handle this,” a man said, pushing through the crowd. It was Bao, the acting magistrate. “I’m afraid, sir,” Bao said, “that the constable is right. The knapsack is evidence, I’m sorry, please give it to him. What’s your name?”

  “Guanting,” the merchant said.

  “Master Guanting,” Bao said, all smiles and peach blossom. “I promise, your knapsack will be returned to you.”

  “When will that be?” he moaned. “I need those funds. I have important business to transact.”

  “I’m sure the new magistrate will hear your case as soon as possible,” Bao suggested.

  “Fine, I’ll do that,” Guanting said with a grunt.

  “Constable, arrest this man,” Bao said, pointing an accusatory finger at Ru.

  Ru’s face was a picture of dread and consternation. The constable grabbed his wrists and hauled him up. Ru clutched his yellow bandanna like a child cradled a favourite doll.

  “He only came to the market to steal,” Bao suggested, “and from a respectable carpet merchant. Ru has committed a heinous act. He must be punished to rectify the imbalance of the Tao.”

  Luli bit her lip and let out a low growl. She wanted to rage at the man, but her son was fragile and unpredictable. She put her arm around his shoulder and comforted him with her special mantra, “I’m here with you… right now.”

  The crowd bayed for Ru’s blood. “Thief!”

  “Ru,” Luli said, firm but yielding. “You have to accompany the constable. I’ll come for you. Don’t worry.”

  As the constable led him away, Ru yelled, “Nooo,” the shadow of ignominy sitting uncomfortably on his gentle brow.

  CHAPTER 16

  The Stone Tablet of Laolongtou

  Sons, in serving their parents, on the first crowing of the cock,

  Should put on their black jackets, knee-covers, girdles and identity tablets.

  From their girdle, hang the knife, the whetstone

  and the mirror for getting fire from the sun;

  As well as an archer’s thimble, writing instruments

  and a borer for getting fire from wood.

  THE ANCIENT CHINESE PATTERN OF THE FAMILY

  As the cock crowed, Bolin rose and got ready in traditional fashion. He trudged to work on the wall. For the last three days, he’d been trying to comprehend Dong’s verdict that he was not possessed. With every day that passed, he felt like he was entering a deeper trance. There was no one he could turn to. He felt like he had repeatedly returned to the same place in his life and there was no way of burrowing out of it. He was trapped, a feeling made worse by the freezing mists rolling off the slopes of Yanshan Mountains, coating everything in a pall of moisture-laden gloom.

  With these anxious thoughts preying on his mind like vultures, he approached the west gate, where a group of men coming the other way started shouting at him.

  “What a smell,” one of them cried, pinching his nose for effect.

  “It’s the fish-man,” mocked another.

  “Hah!” He replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He’d suffered these childish taunts at school. Besides, so what if he smelt of fish. His father was a fisherman. What did they expect him to smell like? Roses? He’d had enough of feeling sorry for himself. And he wasn’t going to back down. Nor was he going to succumb to these strange visions and a man’s voice echoing in the caverns of his soul.

  “Get out,” another one yelled at him. Did they mean his visions?

  “Get out yourself!” He yelled back, making an outward show of bravado.

  Stones whizzed past his ear. He ducked out of their way and ran through the west gate. The incident disturbed him and was as unexpected as it was unsavoury. Those men were his peers. They were peasants who bent their backs, used their hands, tilled the soil and worked the land with the beasts of burden. Their lives were filled with heavy toil and forced service. Why had they turned on him? He had never earned their contempt before. He bit down on his lip and hurried through the city. As if his life couldn’t get any worse.

  He reminded himself that he was a young man with a future. He would serve his parents, his prince and the Zhongguo with ardour and alacrity, despite these initial difficulties.

  He raced up the ramp onto the wall road to Wen’s morning briefing, which was next to the Stone Tablet of Laolongtou. This was an irregular rectangular stone slab about the height of a man on stilts and the width of his arm. It was not merely a lump of stone. Standing on the threshold of the Laolongtou, its outer face was etched with a powerful inscription invoking the protection of Heaven.

  Wen didn’t rebuke him this time. “Listen to me,” the Master Builder was saying, arms o
utstretched as if he was summoning a religious power. The Great Wall and the Laolong that lived in it were both sacred, so perhaps he was. “Today, I want you to work on the Laolongtou. Cui, you and Bolin clean the Stone Tablet. Every morning, the mists roll off the mountains and leave a deposit of lichen on its surface. I want it so clean that the gods can see their reflection in it. Now, get scrubbing.”

  Well, the bad news was that he would have to work near the Laolongtou. Again. He frowned as he felt the headache coming on, stronger than ever. With reluctance, he joined the others. It was all he could do to keep from fainting, as the pain shot through his head like bolts of lightning.

  The mists swirled around them, muting all external sounds, as Cui swabbed and scrubbed one side of the Stone Tablet. He grabbed a wet sponge and started removing the lichen, dust and other debris that soiled the inscription on the other side. Soon enough, his hand, the cloth and the water in the bucket, had turned blue. That was unusual. The lichen in the area was yellow, coloured by the sands blown down from the Gobi. Why was it blue today?

  He swooned and leaned against the edge of the Stone Guardian. Inside him, a voice spoke.

  “Bolin. I’m here. Help me. Free me.” It was so clear that he glanced around, but there were only the shadowy profiles of the other workers, shimmering in the mists like ghostly figures.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked Cui.

  “Hear what?”

  “A man’s voice, calling my name.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Cui snarled. “Careful, Wen is nearby. He’ll hear you. Get on with your work.”

  Bolin wiped the moisture from his forehead and again scraped the sponge over the stubborn lichen, which had deposited strange markings on the stone tablet. Shapes moved in front of his eyes. Why? Was it his pounding head? Was his vision blurred by the mists? Either way, the shape of the lichen changed into the profile of an animal. Now his eyes were playing tricks. Or were they? He stood back for a better look.