by Zoe Marriott
“I call it the safe house. It’s for women and children who need somewhere to hide, a little piece of quiet, security and calm, before they gird themselves to start new lives. Women who’ve fled from ill-treatment, abuse, cruel husbands and families, forced prostitution. Some of the ladies of the northern quarter set it up many years ago. In recent years it has also become the centre of my operations.”
“Your … operations?”
Dou Xianniang drew back a paper-and-wood screen and gestured me ahead of her. The room beyond was small and bare, holding only a narrow, neatly made bed, a low writing desk and stool, and, incongruously, a small potted bamboo plant in one corner. There wasn’t even a window.
Dou Xianniang quickly lit the stubs of two candles from the lamp and placed them on the desk, then sat down on the stool, gesturing for me to take a seat on the bed. Her hands clasped around her knees, then unclasped, then knotted together in her lap. I perched tentatively, unsettled by the obvious display of nerves.
“Now that I have you here, I’m not entirely sure where to begin,” she admitted after a moment. She hadn’t taken off her cloak, and I couldn’t see her face at all under the folds of cloth.
I wet my bottom lip. “You need me to do something for you.”
“Yes.”
“Then start by telling me what it is.”
She laughed that low, beautiful laugh again. “It’s not so simple. Let me … let me tell you a story first. If you can understand it, understand me, perhaps you will do what I ask. Do you agree? Will you stay and listen until I’m finished?”
I was tempted to point out that surely, if she had come to fetch me in the middle of the night, time was short, and stories could wait. But her head was bowed, and her shoulders rounded. She looked small again, as she had when I first saw her the night I “rescued” her. Aware that I was probably being manipulated, I nevertheless let out a sigh of assent. “Very well.”
Her hands steepled in her lap, almost a position of prayer. Then she pushed back her hood, allowing the waves of dark hair to fall forward over her shoulders. The lamplight made it gleam with deep red-gold lights.
“I took the name Dou Xianniang three years ago. Whether the first Dou Xianniang truly existed, or was simply a story, I believed in her mission – to protect the innocent from those who would harm them. I used the identity as … my armour. A larger than life figure, who would never give way to fear or doubt.” I heard her next breath shudder before she went on. “But I was born under a different name.
“Our house was of middling wealth and influence, but great ambition. When I was thirteen, my father made a gift of me to Emperor Gao Zi. He hoped I would win him power by becoming a favoured concubine, but the emperor already had hundreds of them. My house was not prominent enough to propel me into their ranks automatically, and I had no remarkable beauty or talent of my own. I was pretty, of fair intelligence, and an above average dancer, so I became one of the dancing girls who entertained the emperor and his guests at banquets.
“In some ways it was a good life. Safety, warmth, good food. Friends. We were treated quite kindly, especially compared to what I had been used to in my father’s house. But in other ways … in others it was torment. I never caught the eye of the emperor himself, but his guests often – made use of me. That was why I was there, after all. Some of the girls didn’t mind it, but I just … I couldn’t bear it. You see, I was – I was in love.”
She paused, lifting her hands to her face. I held my breath behind my teeth, watching her warily, as if the slightest movement or sound might frighten her away, or cause her to attack.
After a moment she dropped her hands. “Her name was Zhang Jing. One of the emperor’s lower ranking concubines.”
A woman. My heart did something strange: a leap and then a sudden drop.
“The emperor was old by then. He mainly kept to a few favourites and his new empress. Zhang Jing never had the privilege of lying on the Dragon Bed. But because she was an official concubine, and belonged to the emperor alone, no one else could touch her. She tried to have me elevated but I was already seen as … used. It was intolerable for both of us. Then the old emperor died.
“The women of his household – the ones who had no rank of their own, and hadn’t given him children – were to have their heads shaved and be sent away to nunneries. It was a dream come true for us, a way out. She had already been saving any jewellery she received, and her allowances. When the time came for all of us to begin travelling, we ran away in the dead of night. We found a small village in the middle of nowhere and claimed to be widowed sisters. No one cared about us, no one was looking for us – we were safe. It was a simple life, and it was good. We were happy together. We had earned that happiness.”
She stopped, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “And then … the Leopard came.”
I covered my mouth with one hand, as if I could shield myself from the horror her voice conjured in my imagination. I saw the burned village of the bamboo forest. The brittle, gnawed bones. The bloody scene in that little house by the river. What could I possibly say?
She went on in short, jerky bursts, as if forcing herself to speak. “When it was over, everything was gone. But somehow I survived. It was one of the first attacks and – they didn’t call him the Leopard then. No one knew who he was, except me. I had seen him once, at court. I knew he was Feng Shi Chong. I vowed to find him. To avenge Zhang Jing, and all of them. So I became Dou Xianniang and I learned what I needed to know. I fought. Stole. Lied. Saved people where I could. Nearly died a few times. I made allies, contacts among the women and eunuchs of a dozen cities and towns. I stalked him, lost him, found him again. It’s been three years and he has only grown stronger. Gained more ground. Now I fear that he will take the throne, and escape justice for ever.”
“They won’t let that happen,” I said softly, when the silence had gone on long enough that I was sure she wouldn’t speak again. “I brought back valuable intelligence from Feng Shi Chong’s lair. They know his plan now.”
“Do they?” She made a clicking noise with her tongue, straightening up with a toss of her hair, as if she could slough the shadow of tragedy from her back. “I’m not so sure, Hua Zhi. I don’t think he even knows his plan. That’s what’s so dangerous about him.
“He eats the flesh of women and children. Murders his own men, his best men, gruesomely, on a whim. Throws tantrums and falls down upon the floor screaming and rending his clothes. I’ve intercepted communications from him that were nothing but gibberish. I thought at first it was a code, but most of it was ranting, self-loathing, like the last sputters of thought from a dying mind. I’ve learned that some weeks he never leaves that treasure room where he has his bed. I believe, and have believed for some time, that he’s simply not capable of what he has achieved. A short-lived and bloody reign of terror, yes. But the strategy behind this astonishing success? No. Someone else is commanding his army. He’s just a figurehead.”
“The emperor was convinced there was a traitor within the walls of the palace,” I said slowly. “And I found evidence to prove it.”
“More than a traitor. More than just a spy. Maybe Feng Shi Chong started the rebellion, but this person is in control of it, and him, now. My belief is that they’ve used the Leopard as their strong arm, to destabilize the empire and establish ideal conditions for them to seize control themselves. Or else the Leopard would have long since spent his men’s lives and his own in some grand, gory spectacle.”
This coincided so neatly with my own questions about the Leopard’s strategy that I could not dismiss it. But still… “Say you’re right. As long as this traitor remains at large the emperor and the empire itself are in terrible danger. But what do you intend to do about it? I’m a disgraced ex-soldier, absent without leave, who was lucky to get away without being flogged in public this morning. You’re a famous outlaw who’s actually an ex-dancing girl who also probably has a price on h
er head.” I shrugged wearily. “We don’t know the identity of the traitor, and no one is going to care about our theories anyway.”
“We don’t need anyone else to believe us.” Her shoulders squared. “My contacts – my spies in the palace? Every single one of them went quiet after midday today. None of the scheduled evening reports arrived. I sent a friend to investigate – a young woman who sells fruit and other things to the gate guards sometimes – and an armed squad of men whom she’d never seen before beat her for daring to approach. She barely dragged herself back here. Someone has sealed the palace up. Someone with a lot of power. And there’s only one reason for anyone to have done that.”
“The traitor is making their move. They’re going to make another attempt on the emperor,” I whispered, a chill whispering over the back of my neck.
“Exactly. If we can get in there, get access to the emperor’s chambers – we can catch them in the act and end this once and for all.”
I felt my lower jaw drop, but was powerless to do anything about it. The silence dragged out as I stared at her in growing disbelief. “Are you … insane?” I finally managed to ask. “You – you think that we could break into the Centre of the Universe? Into the Dragon Chambers? You and me and whose army, Dou Xianniang? And even if we could manage it – which we can’t – they’d just arrest us and execute us for daring to be there! I told you, no one is going to care about our theories!”
“I think they’ll care if we catch someone as they’re about to strangle the emperor in her sleep,” she said with sudden dryness, folding her arms.
I shot up to my feet. She took a step back.
“If the traitor is as high up as you say, he or she would just tell the guards that we were the intruders, and stand by making convincing faces of shock while we were dragged away to our deaths! And that’s if this all unfolded the way you think it will, which you have no way of knowing. We could get there too early, too late, or nothing could happen at all, and then what? I – this is what you wanted me to do? Be a part of your suicide mission? No.” I shook my head feverishly. “All I have left is my life. I’m not going to throw it away for this.”
She took another step back, blocking the door squarely. “I saved your life.”
There was a sharp pang deep inside me – the last of my honour, perhaps, dying – but I shook my head again. “That doesn’t mean you own it. We’re strangers. I don’t trust you. I won’t do it.”
Dou Xianniang stared at me, either speechless or calculating. The room was too dim for me to see the expression in her eyes, but something made me look down, discomforted.
“What did they do to you?” she asked softly. “How did you become so … broken? So afraid?”
I made a scornful sound, and when my voice emerged it was harsh and ugly. “You don’t know me. But you do know what happened to me today, don’t you? Or else you wouldn’t have known to look for me in that inn. So your question is already answered. There’s only one person in this whole city that I would trust now – and he’s dead.” I stalked forward until we were face to face. “Get out of my way. I’m leaving.”
She remained motionless. “Not yet. I haven’t finished my story. You said you’d stay until it was finished.”
I swore savagely, banging my hand on the screen next to her head. “Stop playacting and move.”
She didn’t flinch. “Earlier this year, I was given information that something was wrong at the training camp run by Commander Diao – that the Leopard might have a spy there. I thought it presented an opportunity to discover the identity of the architect of the rebellion.
“With certain tweaks to my appearance I can easily pass as a boy. So I found a family who wanted to avoid sending their sickly son to war and bought his call-up papers. I took his place, infiltrated the camp, and found that it was home to an old acquaintance. One of my older brothers. He didn’t recognize me, of course – he thought his sister dead – although I apparently reminded him enough of her that he tried to beat me to death. I think you will remember him. He was our captain. Lu Buwei.”
“Captain Lu was your brother? But he was the Leopard’s spy!” Then I stopped. Took a breath. Stepped slowly away from where I had been looming over her at the door. “Our captain?”
“That’s right. I was in your barracks. You did know me. You do know me.”
“Who…?” I kept backing away.
“Come on, Hua Zhi!” Her voice rose in sudden anger. “You must see it! I’ve been waiting for you to recognize me since that first night when you made me take down my hood, but you won’t. It’s like you don’t want to. Look at me!”
I shook my head, staggering as my calves hit the edge of the bed. “No. No. This is a dream. He’s dead. He died because of me…” My voice broke.
Her shoulders heaved with a deep sigh. “All right then. I’ll prove it. Whistle.”
I licked dry, numb lips. Swallowed. Blinked. Then I pursed my mouth and let out three long, high whistles. And from the potted green plant in the corner, there was a brief flutter of wings, and a familiar sweet trill of song. The song of a laughing thrush.
“Bingbing…” I breathed.
Thirty-one
he arrow … the blood…” My knees buckled. I slumped down on to the edge of the bed, afraid to look at her. At him? No, no, I wouldn’t believe it. If I let myself believe, even for one heartbeat, and it wasn’t true… “He’s dead.”
Dou Xianniang came towards me cautiously, on soft feet, and sank down next to me on the bed. Close enough to touch. I inched away from her, shaking. Filled with a kind of fear that held me in the room more surely than iron chains.
“He’s dead,” I repeated. I could hear the pleading in my own voice.
“The arrow lodged in my armour. It nicked me, but it wasn’t deep enough to be fatal.” She tilted her head to one side, trying to force me to meet her gaze. “Most of that blood wasn’t mine – it was from someone I’d just killed.”
“He wasn’t moving!”
“I hit my head on the edge of the fountain when I threw myself over you.” She turned her face away, no longer seeking my gaze, and immediately, helplessly, my gaze fixed on her.
With a lurch of shock, I recognized the shape of her jaw. That elegant jaw I had studied so often that I could trace the line of it in my sleep, even in my nightmares.
No. No. Coincidence. It couldn’t be real.
“When I woke up it was over,” she whispered. “All that was left there were bodies. Just like before, just like when Zhang Jing died. I nearly went out of my mind, Hua Zhi. I didn’t know what had happened to you, if you were dead or alive. I forgot about being Yang Jie, and my cover, about trying to discover the traitor. I took a chance that the Leopard’s men would have transported you to the base in the caves – I had found the hidden passage into that place last year. I grabbed Yulong and a cache of supplies and went. The relief when I saw you there in the caves, alive … and then my terror when I realized what was about to happen to you… The Leopard is lucky I only blew up his smelting tower. I wanted to rip him and his army apart with my bare hands. If it wouldn’t have put you in danger then I would have tried.”
Amidst her story my mind slowly arrowed in on one thing. Her voice, that beautiful low voice, so deep and husky for a woman… The timbre was slightly different, the words shaped more crisply, but the rhythms of speech, the underlying music of it…
“Y–Yang Jie?”
She turned back to me, touching my shoulder as he – she – had so often done before. The touch of a comrade. But then the small, strong hand slid down and grasped mine. Her fingers caressed my own, delicately, as one would trace the petals of a flower. A shudder of fear and delight rocked my body, and gave way to a sense of warmth and safety – and then – I knew – knew – it was real.
Dou Xianniang. Yang Jie. They were the same.
“I’m sorry.” My spine became water. I crumpled over her hand, taking it in both of mine and raising it to my lips. I p
ressed kisses and tears against it, feeling her tremble as she wrapped her other arm around my shoulders, pulling me into the shelter of her body. “I’m so sorry, Yang Jie. I should never have left you. I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry. I missed you so much. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t even know if I was referring to my stupid stubbornness in pushing my friend away, or in not checking to see during the ambush if he was alive or dead, or if I meant my harshness just now. Maybe I meant all of it. I breathed in the scent of her long, silky hair as she moved still closer, and pressed my forehead into the crook of her neck. Her cheek came to rest, warm and solid and alive, against the side of my face.
“It’s all right. I didn’t trust you either, did I? I should have. I should have.”
“Are you like me? Are you … complicated?” I asked, the words muffled in that long, glorious hair. Immediately, I regretted such a strange, vague question, but before I could take it back she – he – answered, laughing a little.
“Very. But not in the same way as you, I think. I can do many things that men do, and I am good at them. I can pass as a man or boy. But no matter what others see, I am still a woman, inside. Yet I … I desire men and women in the same way. I love them not for their gender but regardless of it. Does that make sense?”
“I think so. I’m not like that, though. Inside. I was born as a girl, lived as a girl … yet I was never fully female in my soul. I know that now. Know why I never felt … right. Sometimes it’s as though I’m entirely male. But … at other times, aspects of my femininity seem entirely natural. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know if there’s anyone else like me.” I hesitated. “Knowing that, do you think you could still care for me?”
“Idiot,” she said, on a fond, exasperated laugh. “What do you think? Haven’t you noticed my heart trailing around after you all this time?”
I laughed, too, in sheer relief. “No! Of course not. I used to wonder why you bothered with me at all!”