The Darkest Hour

by Roberta Kagan

  “Understood,” Takeda answered. A thousand words were spoken between them in the moment he met her gaze.

  Danger. The warning shot into her mind, breaking the magic. Wen-Ying looked away and forced her fear to the side. Of course there would be danger. The mission was a risk to all of them. Takeda would be fine. He had one of the easiest roles in this whole set up. She shouldn’t worry about him more than she worried about everyone else. If she were to be a leader, she could not let her personal feelings interfere.

  She understood now why Fan Yong-Hao remained unmarried. He could not favor any person above another. He could not have private emotions that might sway his actions or thoughts.

  “When the performer puts on this mask, we’ll have ten minutes to light all the fires except for the doorways to the dining room and the servants’ entrance. The servants’ entrance will be our escape route.” She pointed at the spot on the map. “Once the mask changer leaves the dining room, he’ll head straight for escape, and we’ll set fire to seal all three dining room exits.”

  The room fell silent. Wen-Ying put down her hand next to the mask. What words of comfort or encouragement should she say? She was so ill-prepared to be the one to inspire the others.

  Takeda spoke up, reciting one of Tian Di Hui’s sacred vows. “Three knives, six eyes, no room for mercy. A pledge to eliminate the enemy, one swipe to empty all.”

  Wen-Ying looked up. Those words. Takeda understood. She understood. Until they succeeded, until they drove out their enemy—every last one of them, these words were what they would live for. These words would be their anchor. Their light to guide them out of the reign of darkness.

  Chapter 9

  Holding on to the lamp post, Wen-Ying gazed at her old home. This time, to memorize every detail she could. After tomorrow, the once grand Yuan family villa would be no more.

  “It’s difficult to let go, isn’t it?” Takeda said behind her.

  “The people aren’t there anymore,” she said. Not the people who mattered anyway. “What use is it to leave behind a house.” Her denial hardly convinced herself. He must have known she was lying too, for he put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “There’s nothing left of it now. It’s just an empty shell. Everything inside is gone.” She gritted her teeth. She had to say this, so she could steel her own heart and do what she must when the time came.

  Takeda looked on with sad, sympathetic eyes. “When the Japanese soldiers took over the city, they looted everything from all the abandoned houses.”

  That wasn’t what she meant. “There’s no soul inside the house anymore. No traditions to uphold. No music to enliven the world. No legacy worth carrying on.” Nothing. The family that gave this house its soul no longer dwelled within. Her father was no longer there to pass on his wisdom. Her mother no longer there to burn incense for the ancestral shrine. Mei Mei’s laughter no longer warmed the corridors. Even if her brother, Guo Hui, could return one day and reclaim it, he could never pass it on to his children as the symbol of pride for all that the name Yuan represented. Evil spirits now occupied this place. Twisted, depraved spirits. All the holy water in the world could not wash such evil away.

  Sourness swelled in the back of her throat. She swallowed and blinked back the stinging tears.

  “That balcony.” Takeda pointed to the west side of the villa’s third floor. “Was that where you and your sister used to go to watch the moon?”

  Wen-Ying followed the direction of his finger. “Yes. On the nights of the Autumn Festival. How’d you guess?”

  Takeda smiled. “It’s the only balcony with a cypress tree next to it.”

  The cypress tree. This giant wonder that had seen so much over the years. It still stood, glorious and robust, untouched by the dark evil that had swept these grounds. It was the only living thing remaining in this villa that could still wave its claim of innocence despite the wickedness infesting this place.

  “By tomorrow night, that tree too will burn to ashes,” she said. It broke her heart to know she would be the one to take its life away.

  “Maybe not all of it.” Takeda pulled her back against him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “See those branches hanging over the balcony?”

  “Yes?”

  “Tomorrow night, I’ll try to take one of the branches. If I can sneak up there without anyone’s notice, I’ll bring you back a branch.”

  “No.” Wen-Ying turned her head around. “That’s not part of the plan. Don’t risk it.”

  “It’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ll have ten minutes from when I leave the dining room till you set the house fully on fire. That’s plenty of time. It’ll be easy.”

  “Takeda!” She raised her hand to his chest to stop him.

  “Let me handle this.” He grabbed her fist and closed it in his own. “I know you want this. It’ll be a token. Something you can keep to remember your sister by.”

  Slowly, Wen-Ying relented. She turned her gaze back at the tree and the balcony. A gust of wind blew above the house and the cypress tree’s leaves fluttered like a thousand butterflies’ wings. According to legend, a tree that lived to a thousand years old would grow a spirit. The spirit would take on human form and acquire magical powers. Other myths and folklore also said that sometimes, when a person died, his spirit would survive and merge with something living around them. Like a bird, or a flower, or a tree.

  She didn’t know how many years the cypress tree had lived. But could she grasp on to the belief that Mei Mei’s spirit was still alive? Could she hold on to the hope that Mei Mei’s body had left for the Heavens, but her soul had merged with the tree, and she was now the tree’s spirit? If so, her spirit would protect them when they carried out their plan, wouldn’t it?

  “We’re going to succeed,” Takeda whispered in her ear. “Tomorrow, we’ll wipe them all out.”

  Chapter 10

  A night of full moon.

  Here on earth, the Autumn Festival elicited no excitement or joy. Starvation plagued the country, and no one wanted to think about mooncakes. The bells of curfew rang, and families hustled their children inside. None could frolic with their festival lanterns on the streets after dark.

  And yet, above in the sky, the silhouette of Chang ‘e looked clearer than ever in the luminous celestial light. This elusive goddess who, in a haste to break free from her assailant, deserted the mortal bond of love. As she sailed across the sky, chasing the moon, did she think to look down even once to see how much the people below were suffering? Wen-Ying wondered as their caravan approached the road leading to the former Yuan mansion.

  She pulled her gaze back from the heavens to her own reflection on the glass of the vehicle’s window. No time to admire the moon now. Tonight, she had come to end once and for all the celebration of this holiday at the house she could no longer call home. She had taken on the disguise as one of the singers coming to perform a scene from the famous romantic Peking opera Peony Pavilion. Along with Zhang Yu-Lan, they would enter the target location as understudies. Wen-Ying herself for the female lead, and Zhang Yu-Lan for the male lead.

  Wen-Ying touched her cheek with her fingertip. The make-up artist did a fantastic job. The thick white paint on her face, the crimson red paint on her lips and around her eyes, and the heavy wig hid her appearance so well, she could not recognize herself.

  Next to her, Yu-Lan folded her hands on her lap. “Don’t worry. I’m certain we’ll succeed.”

  Wen-Ying hoped so. “How were you able to come out tonight anyway? Doesn't your family expect you to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival with them?”

  “Ha!” Yu-Lan laughed, then lowered her voice not to disturb the others sitting in the back. “After Dai Li told me about tonight's mission, I convinced my parents to take the whole family to celebrate at our villa out in the countryside. My father recently bought the summer villa that used to belong to the British Taipan Tony Keswick. I told him the moon would shine brighter out the
re away from the city. When they were all ready to head out yesterday, I pretended I fell ill.”

  “And they left without you? They aren't worried you’re home, sick and all alone?”

  “My mother didn’t want to go without me. But they had no choice. I made sure of that. After they decided to celebrate out in the villa, I talked my parents into inviting her three mahjong pals and their husbands. It didn’t take much convincing on my part. My mother was eager to show off our new countryside retreat. Since her friends would all be arriving, they had to leave without me. I told them I would try to join them today if I felt better.” She flicked her eyes from left to right. “I guess I’m still ill.” She stuck out her tongue.

  “You little mischievous spirit. You’ve been planning this,” Wen-Ying said. “You meant to come with us all along!”

  Yu-Lan smiled in admission. “When my maidservant brought me my soup for dinner tonight, I told her I needed rest. I told her she was strictly not to let anyone bother me in my room unless I called for them. Then I sneaked out through my bedroom window.”

  “Are you sure no one will discover you’re gone?”

  “Of course I’m sure!” she said. Then, her face dropped. “Our servants hate us. They submit to us because they need work. They need the pay and working for people like us will guarantee that. But they know we’re traitors, and they hate us for having so much and living so well when they and everybody else are struggling to survive. If they could feed us to dogs, they would.”

  “Yu-Lan.” Wen-Ying touched her on the back. “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. Anyway, none of them would want to exert an extra ounce of effort for us. With my whole family gone and I specifically told them not to bother me, they’d all be glad to have a night off.”

  Wen-Ying knew Yu-Lan was speaking the truth. How ironic. In occupied China, it seemed the life of a young lady of a prosperous family wasn’t so wonderful either.

  This evil war. It turned everyone against each other. Everybody was bearing humiliation for the sake of survival.

  “I don’t want to stay on the side watching all the time,” Yu-Lan said. “I took the vow to defend us all as real blood brothers and sisters. Now that Fan Da Ge’s no longer here, I want to put in more effort, to do my share, if that can help. Besides, with both Yao Kang and Huang Jia-Ming fighting in the open and scheming in the dark for the seat of the First Helm, you need someone who will think only of supporting you. That’s what I’m here for.”

  The driver turned his head slightly and said to Wen-Ying. “We’ve arrived.”

  Wen-Ying nodded. As they pulled into the driveway, her stomach twisted. It’d been more than a year since she last set foot onto these grounds. Tonight, she would claim this place back. The unwitting occupants inside didn’t know it, but tonight, everyone here were puppets, and she held all the strings. Starting now, she would be the master of this place again.

  The vehicle stopped and the driver got out to open the door. Behind him, stone-faced Japanese guards peered into the vehicle. Wen-Ying exchanged a glance with the leader of the troupe, the mask changer. Quietly, he climbed out, followed by the guqin performer. The two Peking Opera singers looked at Wen-Ying. Then they, too, left. Wen-Ying nudged Yu-Lan. Bowing their heads, they exited with the musicians and drummer who would provide musical accompaniment for the opera performance and the mask changing act.

  Behind them on the driveway, their second vehicle arrived, carrying the troupe’s staff, costumes, musical instruments, and equipment. One by one, the make-up artist, the costumes manager, and Tian Di Hui members posing as troupe hands got out.

  A middle-aged man in Chinese tangzhuan uniform came running out of the house. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he shouted. With his authoritative manners, Wen-Ying guessed he must be Liu Kun’s head houseboy.

  How did the bamboo grow another branch? They couldn’t afford an added diversion. Neither Dai Li nor Bao Gong mentioned the head houseboy. Bao Gong was supposed to make arrangements to get the household staff out of their way. This houseboy could be a problem if he stayed around. What would she do if he took it upon himself to direct their coming and going?

  She could think of no solution for now but to take it one step at a time.

  Not shaken in the least, the troupe leader walked up to the houseboy and greeted him. The houseboy flung his sleeve. “You’re all here to perform tonight?” he demanded to know.

  “Yes,” said the troupe leader. That seasoned old hand. He didn’t show any bit of worry or nerves.

  The guards pointed at the trunks the troupe hands wanted to unload.

  The houseboy went toward the trunks. “What are those?”

  “Costumes, musical instruments, some equipment—”

  “Open them.”

  The troupe leader gestured at their team to do as they were told. While the commotion was happening, Wen-Ying kept her head low. She wasn’t worried about their trunks. The materials they really needed—the kerosene and guns—Bao Gong already brought them in by hiding them with the kitchen deliveries earlier in the week before the Japanese guards arrived. The only things hidden in their trunks were the Japanese army uniforms stored in concealed compartments. Those would come into play later.

  What did upset her was seeing the guards yanking open the trunks and roughly shifting and tossing all the items inside. Such outright disrespect. They did this on purpose too, she was sure. What angered her even more was watching the houseboy standing there, grinning at the Japanese dogs while sneering at his own kind. It took all her self-restraint to keep quiet.

  The troupe leader, however, stepped forward. “Of course, it’s a small matter to us if our costumes and equipment are accidentally damaged,” he said to the houseboy. “But if something happens and we can’t put on our best performance tonight, General Kazuki might be very unhappy.”

  The houseboy’s face immediately changed. Quickly, he went up to the guards. Waving his hands for them to stop, he repeated again and again, “For Kazuki. For Kazuki.”

  Wen-Ying sucked in her cheeks. It would not do for her to show she enjoyed watching them squirm.

  Looking uncertain, the guards exchanged a few words, then backed off and pointed them to the path of the staff entrance.

  The troupe leader led everyone to gather and move forward. All the while, his face betrayed not a hint of anything out of the ordinary. Wen-Ying couldn’t help admire how he handled the whole ordeal. She must learn to stay calm under pressure like him.

  The pompous houseboy continued his menace. “This way,” he shouted at them. “This house has rules. People cannot wander around alone, especially not a group of actors like you. I’ll warn you all now. If I find any valuable item missing after tonight, your whole group will have to answer to Master Liu and Madam Liu.”

  Wen-Ying glowered at his back. What did this running dog know about things that were valuable? Once, before the war, her family had owned some of the finest treasure money could buy. Why would she want any of the Lius’ inferior properties? What a joke.

  This prick of a houseboy. How could they get rid of him?

  The houseboy led them to the sitting room where Wen-Ying suggested. All right. At least Bao Gong took care of that part.

  “You’re to stay in here until you’re called to perform,” the houseboy wagged his finger. “I will not—”

  “Good evening!” Bao Gong entered and interrupted him. “Welcome. I’m the head cook here. The master and madam of the house have kindly instructed me to bring you all mooncakes to share.” He stepped aside to make way for the woman behind him carrying a tray of mooncakes cut to wedges on plates. A girl, about sixteen, brought in a pot of tea and cups.

  Ignoring the mooncakes, Wen-Ying eyed Bao Gong and tossed her head slightly at the houseboy, but Bao Gong wouldn’t look directly at her. He came toward them with a smile.

  Was Bao Gong betraying them? Wen-Ying’s palms started to sweat.

  The women and the girl laid the mo
oncakes and tea on the table. The troupe stared longingly at the snacks. Like most people, they hadn’t eaten anything sweet for a very long time.

  “Ahem.” The houseboy cleared his throat. “I haven’t finished talking. Don’t any of you disappoint our master and madam after how well they’re treating you tonight. I will not tolerate—” He stopped. His eyes bulged. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he yowled and bowed over.

  “Uncle Rong! What’s the matter?” The woman rushed over to his side, but the houseboy continued to moan. He held both his hands over his stomach as the woman helped him to the sofa. “Wah!” she exclaimed. “You’re spilling cold sweat.”

  “My stomach…” he uttered, squeezing his eyes.

  “Did you eat something bad?” Bao Gong asked. “I know. You must’ve gone to Old Zhu’s shop again. I told you not to go there. Their dog meat hot pots aren’t clean.”

  The houseboy scrunched his face and bared his teeth in pain.

  “We can’t let this interrupt the feast,” said the woman. “Madam will be furious if she found out you got yourself sick tonight. You better go back to your room. Little Yin!” she said to the teenage girl. “Go get Ah Three.”

  “Yes.” The girl left on her order.

  “Uncle Rong,” the woman said to the houseboy, patting his back. “You go get some rest. I’ll cover for you. I’ll supervise this group of actors and our staff. We must not let Madam know about this.”

  The girl returned with a younger houseboy of lower rank.

  “Ah Three,” the woman said to the younger houseboy. “Uncle Rong is ill. Take him back to his room to get some rest.”

  Startled, the servant Ah Three rushed to help. “Yes.”

  The head houseboy, whose face had turned pale white, was now in too much agony to object.

  After they left, the girl Little Yin covered her mouth and giggled. Wen-Ying scowled at Bao Gong. What was going on?

  Bao Gong came closer to her. “Allow me to introduce. This is my wife, Ah Xia.” He pointed at the woman, who gave everyone a warm smile. “And that’s my daughter, Little Yin.” The girl wiggled her brows and grinned.