“See if he’s alive,” Tung snarled.
Gang peered over the battlements, as the soldiers below rushed over the drawbridge to attend the stricken guard. From behind Gang, another guard shouted out in distress. He beat the air with his fists, like he was grappling with Heaven.
Another spectral attack.
“Get away!” the guard screamed. In a terrifying moment, his trousers split from groin to toe, sliced open by an unseen foe wielding an unseen weapon. The injured guard stared at the wound in crazed disbelief. Blood dripped down a deep cut on his thigh, leaving a trail of crimson drops on the pristine stonework.
“Help him!” Tung screamed at the guards. No one moved.
Gang had seen Altan’s supernatural work before, but nothing to match this grade of excellence. A moment later, the invisible entity leapt at the injured guard and must have landed on top of him, because the man was fighting the air like a madman, trying to fend off a ferocious attack. He fell on his back, mauled by some kind of wild animal. The invisible beast tore open the guard’s throat and a spout of crimson blood spurted into the air. The guard twitched a few times and swiftly bled out, a red pool creeping across the stonework like a malevolent intruder.
The other guards stood in a stunned ring around their dead compatriot. A deathly silence hung over the Zhendong Tower. On it was the infamous saying, The First Pass under Heaven. Gang wondered malevolently if they shouldn’t replace it with The First Pass under Hell.
Then a third guard drew his sabre and struck out at an unseen attacker, yelling, shaking his fist at the unruly air.
“What are you fighting?” Tung thundered.
“Can’t you see it?” the guard said, beating the wind with his fists.
“No. What is it? Where is it?” Tung bellowed, beside himself with rage.
“A wolf, a Blue Wolf,” the guard yelled, his voice hoarse with fear.
Abandoned by Heaven and all that was holy, the guard dropped his weapon and dashed screaming along the road, looking back in mortal fear at the invisible Blue Wolf pursuing him.
“Stop him,” Tung ordered the guards. But they stood there like statues, in denial of what they were witnessing.
Tung’s next order scythed through their hesitation.
“Kill the deserter.”
For Gang, these words were like listening to the crescendo of an exquisite piece of music. Or like the ecstasy of clouds and rain. The Chinese were turning on and rending themselves. He had wondered how Altan would bring about this supernatural war. Now he knew. First, the Chinese had voluntarily brought the Blue Wolf into the garrison on captured banners. Once inside, the wolf had seeded the air, appearing in the blue lichen. A lone Blue Wolf had caused the death of two soldiers and was threatening to destroy the entire garrison – from within.
Altan had promised to attack the Chinese in Heaven and that was precisely what he was doing.
The guards snapped out of their trance, grabbed their bows and unleashed a volley of arrows that thudded into the back of the deserter. The wolf’s bloodlust must have been satiated, because the invisible creature attacked no one else.
As a semblance of sanity returned to the wall road, the guards patriotically covered their dead compatriots in red and yellow flags of the Prince of Yan and carried them on stretchers past the terrified citizens. Gang climbed into his sedan chair and followed at a discreet distance. Behind the curtains, his smile was as wide as the wall itself. The people sang a long, slow dirge out of respect for the dead guards.
Gang picked up his bamboo flute and fingered his own favourite tune, a melody from his childhood. Ah, it was so poignant, he could almost cry.
CHAPTER 41
The Plan of Shanhaiguan
Virtue small and office high,
Wisdom small and plans great,
Strength small and burden heavy –
Where such conditions exist, it is seldom that they do not end in evil.
THE TA CHUAN, THE GREAT TREATISE
The jailors threw Feng across the floor like a worthless rag. Skidding across the floor on his backside, he crunched against the wall. The cell door slammed shut. He groaned. Every bone in his body felt hammered. Damn, he had almost got into the Jade Chamber. Notwithstanding the aches and pains, he sat up from his crumpled heap.
The cell was not much bigger than a broom cupboard.
As the dusk watch rang out, he caught a glimpse of the lanterns in the magistrate’s chambers in the nearby Yamen. How often he had sat in those very chambers with Park debating the significance of the Emperor’s latest missive on the laws of filial piety, the customs of marriage, the importance of ritual worship, the… Oh, what was the point of rekindling those memories? That life was over. He’d swapped the court chambers for a cell. Now that was an unfair exchange. Somewhere, somehow, a cacophony of bad karma had sounded across the caverns of Heaven, dripped into the earthly realms and made it his fate to suffer humiliation, loss and indignity.
Slumped in the corner of the cell, his eyes adjusted to his insalubrious surroundings. So, this was his new prison – with real, not imaginary, bars. His head swam with the smell of faeces and fear. He looked around the cell: four other poor sods wearing cangues. At least he didn’t have one of those – yet.
The cangue next to him moaned. He glanced at the man’s face, jutting precariously out of the rectangular piece of wood. Oh my, it was Ru. He barely recognised him. He was as thin and gaunt as an old peasant who had poured his life into the rice fields.
“Ru?” Feng murmured.
Ru peered back at him through layers of pain and hurt and let out a soft whimper.
“What have they done to you?” Feng asked, reaching down to offer him solace.
Ru winced, trying to edge his exhausted body further into the darkness of the corner, as if that were possible. Ru and the corner were already married, like a grotesque coupling.
The dusk curfew drums beat out from the Bell and Drum Tower, waves of rolling sound, piercing the gloom of the cell. At that moment, the door burst open. Three shadows lurked outside the cell – Gang, Bao, and Thousand Cuts Liu. Feng had already witnessed first-hand the torturer’s legendary skills. When sitting in the Yamen and with the wind blowing in the right direction, he had often heard the screams of horror vomiting out of the underworld, the delightful name bequeathed on Liu’s amply-equipped torture chambers. The one thing that Feng liked about Liu was that he had never practiced his skills on Feng. Feng did not want that to change. Not now. Not ever.
He was cold, hungry and tired of running.
“I’m innocent of all charges,” he railed. “In fact, what are the charges? Am I guilty of being the son of General Xu Da? I am the brother-in-law of the Prince of Yan. That is not a crime. He will hear of this disgrace.”
“You’re a clever liar and manipulator,” Gang sneered. “The prince, a better judge of men than I, refused to promote you to the post of acting magistrate. It was as well that Bao here witnessed how you abused the aegis of authority, before it was even placed in your hand. Then I caught you rifling through the court’s papers. Given the proximity of your father’s death, I decided out of compassion not to prosecute you. Then the Lady Lan died in suspicious circumstances. Now I have no leniency left in my heart. You are the most dangerous foe in Shanhaiguan. You are a traitor to your family and to the prince.”
Feng was flabbergasted. “Me, the traitor? This… this is preposterous.”
“Then why did you run from the commandant? You must have had a reason to hide. What is it? Tell us. You’ll feel better for it.”
“What?” he cried. “You’re mad!”
“Search him,” Gang said.
Liu held him in a vice-like grip while Bao dug through his pockets. It was useless to resist. Bao squealed and pulled the lacquer box from Feng’s inner sleeve.
“Here’s something,
” Bao cried with an air of triumph.
Gang admired the box, saying, “Mmm, this lacquer is smooth and of the finest quality. Let me see what’s inside. Here, bring the lantern closer,” he ordered. “There are papers. It’s a plan of – oh, yes, this is very interesting. Well, well, well. These are construction plans for the extension of the Great Wall from the Yanshan Mountains to the sea. I’ll study them later. Tell me, where did you find them?”
Liu growled and twisted Feng’s arm behind his back.
“Luli gave them me.”
“Her again?” Bao snarled. “She is mid-wife to every nefarious act in Shanhaiguan.”
Gang frowned. “I agree. Bring her in. I’ll question her myself. Then I’ll deal with that troublesome monk.”
Feng slumped into the corner, beaten in both mind and body. Next to him, Ru let out a long sigh.
CHAPTER 42
The Po Office
A famous physician was asked
which of his family of healers was most skilled in the art.
He replied: ‘My eldest brother removes the spirit of sickness before it takes hold.
My elder brother cures illness when it is still minute.
As for me, I puncture veins, prescribe potions and massage skin.’
ANCIENT CHINESE FABLE
Luli wiped the moist flannel over the guard’s forehead for the twentieth time and turned to Dong.
“It won’t come off,” she murmured, her voice tinged with desperation. When they’d brought the three dead guards into the temple infirmary, she, Dong and Ju had set about cleansing and preparing the bodies for the sacred rites. One was mangled from a fall, the second was cut to shreds by a wolf’s claws and the third had perished from arrows in the back.
They had wiped down the bodies, except for the forehead – where all three had an imprint that would not budge, no matter how hard they tried. It was the image of a rampant Blue Wolf, mouth open, teeth bared, leaping out from the middle of their forehead. If she stared too long at it, it seemed to leap across the space between them and jump into her soul. Even when she glanced away it was there, bounding out at her from behind a table or under a stool.
“It’s a stain on their soul,” she said with a rueful air.
“No, it’s a trick,” Dong insisted. “It’s a shaman’s ruse to make us afraid.”
“There’s talk of deserters and fugitives and that Shanhaiguan is cursed,” Ju added his piece of silver.
Luli wiped once more, then flung the cloth away in frustration. “It’s useless. I’m not doing this anymore.”
“Then go home,” Dong suggested. “Get some sleep and come back in the morning.”
He was right. She was exhausted and she missed Ru so badly it ached.
It was night time, so for safety, she returned home through the Bagua tunnels. She climbed down the vertical shaft, the lantern lighting her way. Trudging along, she felt at home in the dark, yin shadows, yielding to the great yang fortress above her. As she edged her way through the still quiescence, she felt pockets of concentrated ch’i. She wondered where this accumulation of high ch’i originated.
This time, she saw in her mind an image, stark and clear and bright. It was a rod of gems, spinning slowly, humming a tune made by the sound of a distant galaxy, serene and powerful. In the moist darkness, that was the cocoon where things gave birth and were born.
Were the tunnels a kind of spiritual womb?
What a strange thought.
She whispered, “What is your name?”
Not expecting a reply, she walked on. Then a voice responded in the depths of her soul. “What is your name?”
She stopped. That was not an echo. It had spoken to her. Heaven had spoken to her.
“I am Luli, a Fire Monkey and Custodian of the Po Office,” she whispered.
“I am Luli, a Fire Monkey and Custodian of the Po Office,” the echo replied. Somehow, at that moment, she knew who she was, what she was doing and where she was going. It all made sense. If only she could hold on to that precious moment of sublime clarity about her life.
There was a noise, a loud voice somewhere above her. It jerked her out of her reverie. She was standing beneath the vertical shaft that led to her house.
What was going on up there?
One slow step at a time, she climbed up the laddered shaft, hearing the voices clearer and louder, the nearer she got to the surface. Several men were shouting. She could hear the sound of things crashing on the ground, breaking. Who were they? What were they…? Oh no!
Filled with dread, she reached the step below the trap door. Through the slit, she could see lights flickering. Soldiers. They were smashing her Po Office to bits. She felt like opening the trap door and giving them a piece of her mind, but they were obviously after her. She would end up imprisoned like Ru and unable to help him.
Think. Who was up there, trashing her precious soul objects and letters? The answer came when she overheard a voice she recognised.
It was Bao, gloating, “Hah! I hope she’ll like the alterations we’ve performed on her home. Free of charge, of course.”
Her worst fears crushed the breath out of her body. How could they? That house was her home, her livelihood. Now, she had neither.
A clear image of her room rammed into her febrile mind. The soldiers were trashing the gifts and donations for which she was custodian. The outer door hung off its hinges. There was rubbish strewn outside, dark shadows that were once her carefully-gathered belongings. The place was wrecked, her customer’s precious mementoes, in chaos. The letters, scrolls and paper documents were torn to shreds. A small fire burnt in the corner. Elsewhere, precious bequests left by dead relatives, as yet unclaimed, had been opened and ransacked, many stolen, leaving their ruptured envelopes, with nothing left inside. The work of generations, gone, devoured in an orgy of devastation. Their pieces lay sad and unwanted on the floor, trampled into the dirt. It was almost as if the past didn’t matter anymore. It was rendered expendable.
She felt violated, hollow and abused.
The Hammer of Shanhaiguan, Gang was the perpetrator of everything bad. But was he the mastermind behind the appearance of the spectral blue wolves? Was he the mysterious shaman? No, he didn’t seem capable of that order of supernatural skill. He must have had help – Mongol help.
“Luli, Luli, lovely Luli, come sit on my lap,” Bao sang, lascivious to the last. Panic gripped her throat. She daren’t move, lest she alert him to her presence.
The soldiers stopped breaking up the place. The noises ceased. She pressed her ear against the trap door. She heard the sound of a stream of water hitting a nearby wall, then another stream and another and a grunt or two. The soldiers were urinating against her walls. Not content with destroying her Po Office, they were defiling it. It was reduced to a soldiers’ latrine. A toxic mix of fury and hate rose in her gullet.
Then it hit her like a bolt. The last time she had used the tunnel, she had left the trap door closed but not covered by the carpet. It was exposed and sooner or later… surreptitiously, she began her descent. A step at a time, she edged down the ladder. As she reached the tunnel, the trap door flew open, spilling light into the vertical shaft. For a moment, it backlit a man’s head. She scuttled away, hoping beyond hope that she hadn’t been seen.
Halfway along the tunnel, she couldn’t go on. She stopped to rest, her hands on her thighs. She was stuck by a stark image of broken shards of sculptures and smashed wooden frames of paintings. Preserved for decades, these objects were gone now – forever. Her Po Office was no more. Her head spun and she felt flushed. She dry-retched, then vomited the contents of her stomach.
She heard noises from the vertical shaft. They were coming after her! Her heart pounding, an acrid taste in her mouth, she raced along the tunnel. Arriving at the base of the temple shaft, a gust of wind blew the lantern out, plungin
g the tunnel into darkness.
Luli had lost her husband, her son was condemned to lose his hand, her home was defiled and the precious gifts and messages left to her in trust, destroyed – a fitting reflection of how desolate she felt inside. She wondered if that was how god felt about humanity.
CHAPTER 43
The Yin of Life
Death and life have their determined appointment.
Riches and honours depend upon Heaven.
THE ANALECTS OF CONFUCIUS
It was after the second night watch when Gang sat down in the sedan chair. His body eased back into the cushions as his porters carried him though the alleys of the Yamen, stopping only when they reached the base of the Zhendong Gate. Arms folded, foot tapping, Commandant Tung waited for him.
“What’s happened?” Gang asked. He was secretly hoping for more bad news – for the Chinese.
“I’m not sure,” Tung said. “The guards on the battlements have reported some strange movement outside the gates. I thought you’d want to see for yourself.”
“Thank you, yes, I do,” Gang said, with evident enthusiasm. “Lead on.”
Lantern on a pole, a soldier marched stoically in front of him, Tung and an officer deputation that included Major Renshu. They climbed the ramp, the sound of their footsteps echoing eerily around the tower. As they reached the battlements, a guard challenged them,
“Halt, who goes there?”
“Dolt, what are you doing? It’s me, your commandant,” Tung snapped, shoving the lance out of the way and slapping the man hard across the cheek. “Pull yourself together. The enemy is out there, not in here.”
“S-sorry, Commandant,” the guard stammered, bowing low in embarrassment.
Good, Gang thought to himself. The men are jumpy. Another slice of terror and they’ll abandon their posts, if they don’t kill each other first.
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