by Kylie Chan
He sighed. ‘You know better than to ask me that, Emma. You know you have to find your own way.’
I shrugged it off, it was worth a try. ‘Okay, so when’s your birthday?’
‘You know I have no idea,’ he said. ‘After four and a half thousand years I’d challenge anybody to have an idea. I doubt if I was ever actually born, anyway. I just am.’
‘Well then, Eighth Day of the Fourth Moon it is. May eighth this year. Three days from now. Thursday.’
He leaned back and retied his hair. ‘Aiya.’
‘I’ve already cancelled all your classes, and booked the boat to take us over. We leave at ten in the morning. Okay?’
He grinned broadly. ‘You already arranged it?’ ‘Of course I did. You don’t think I’d leave it to you, do you?’
Cheung Chau was a dumbbell-shaped island about an hour’s boat ride from Central Pier. The island was only three hundred metres wide at its narrowest point and hardly any height above sea level. The two ‘weights’ on the dumbbell stretched to either side, and were slightly higher.
The island was completely packed with people for the festival. John carried Simone so that she wouldn’t be crushed.
The air was full of the noise of shouting, drums and gongs, and the smells of food and sweat. A thick pall of incense smoke hung over the entire island.
We stopped for lunch at one of the small restaurants near the pier before we went anywhere. The restaurants usually specialised in live seafood, held in tanks next to the kitchen. Diners could select exactly which fish and shellfish they wanted, how they wanted them served, and the restaurant would oblige. But for the week of the Bun Festival the entire island of Cheung Chau went vegetarian in Pak Tai’s honour. The butcher shops closed for the holidays.
After lunch we wandered through the packed streets to the Pak Tai temple. The bun towers stood proudly outside the temple, enormous ten-metre-high bamboo cones held by a bamboo scaffold. The buns were strung around the outside of the cones.
The tradition was that at the end of the festival, after midnight on the final day, young men would climb the towers to retrieve the buns for the crowd; a good-luck race. But in 1978, one of the towers had collapsed and some of the bun racers had been killed. Since then the buns had been distributed to the island’s residents by the clergy of the temple.
John wouldn’t talk about what had happened in ‘78. Apparently he hadn’t been present that year; normally he would have been there to make sure that nobody was injured. But in ‘78 he hadn’t been able to make it, and wouldn’t say why. It may have had something to do with him losing the Serpent about that time, but with a creature as strange as him it was impossible to tell.
Three enormous effigies had been constructed out of bamboo and brightly coloured paper, about five metres tall. They were of a black-skinned demonic-looking deity with horns; a benign elderly scholar with a flowing white beard and traditional robes; and another demonic-looking red-skinned figure. They were Dei Ching Wong, Ruler of the Underworld; Do Dei Gang, the Kitchen God; and Shang Shan, the God of Earth and Mountains.
There was no effigy of Pak Tai; he was far too awesome to be shown like that. But he would have his chance later.
After we’d lit some incense at the temple and John had bought Simone a brightly coloured good-luck pinwheel, we wandered back to John’s house on the island. No motorised vehicles were permitted on Cheung Chau, so the streets could be very narrow.
We stopped at a plain concrete three-storey village-style house on the main thoroughfare. John pushed the door open.
The lower floor of the house was paved with pale green tiles and had bare concrete walls. The living room was minimally furnished with old-fashioned rosewood furniture and a stained coffee table, with a folding mah jong table. A set of rusting metal bunk beds with faded silk quilts folded at the feet stood against the wall on one side. It appeared to be a typical island village house, like many rented out for holiday weekends. John led us up the stairs to the second floor.
The second floor was plushly decorated with smooth cream Italian floor tiles and textured wallpaper. A comfortable leather lounge and a wide-screen television stood to one side and a rosewood six-seater dining table to the other. A well-fitted kitchen was at the back of the house, and Monica was already busy in there.
John opened the French doors onto the balcony. The balcony overlooked the main street of Cheung Chau, a perfect location for watching the parade. John gestured for me to sit at the outdoor table there, on one of the comfortable plastic chairs. Simone climbed into John’s lap and leaned on the railing. Monica brought us iced lemon tea; the day was already very warm and humid.
A lion dance led the procession, with three lions: one gold, one black and one red. The drummer did his best to bring down the houses, banging for all he was worth. A martial arts troupe followed, performing acrobatics as they passed us on the street.
‘Any of them ours?’ I said.
John shook his head.
A small altar followed, carried by four proud young men. I peered down to see inside; it held an effigy of a god seated on a throne with his hands on his knees, his black robes flowing around him and his long hair over his shoulder. His face was square and dark, and his bare feet perched on a snake and a turtle.
John squeezed Simone. She whispered in his ear and he nodded. She leaned back to stare at him, incredulous, and he nodded again. She collapsed over his lap laughing.
John and I shared a smile.
About twenty people followed, all holding lanterns with good-luck characters on them.
The next altar contained a serene goddess sitting on a lotus flower, wearing flowing white robes and holding a small bottle in her hand.
‘Aunty Kwan!’ Simone yelled, pointing.
‘That’s right,’ John said.
The next altar contained a goddess with colourful flowing robes and a benign smile. She wore a hat with a square brim with beads that hung in front of her face.
‘Tin Hau?’ Simone said, naming the Goddess of the Sea.
John nodded.
‘Do you know her?’ she said more softly, barely audible over the noise of the drums and gongs. John nodded again.
Simone turned back to the parade and jiggled with excitement in John’s lap.
The final altar contained Guan Di, the red-faced God of Justice, holding a huge halberd and glaring fiercely.
‘He’s actually a very nice man,’ John said into Simone’s ear. ‘But he doesn’t come for this. This is mostly for me.’
‘Why you, Daddy?’
‘A long time ago, a vicious band of pirates was attacking this island. The peaceful fishing folk here had no defence against them. The pirates attacked again and again. So I came down and had a small chat to them about their behaviour. They went away, and the people of the island built the temple for me, and hold the festival every year.’
‘I heard you cured a plague,’ I said.
‘That too,’ John said, smiling. ‘I’m not sure if any of us remembers the exact origin of the festival. There were a few things. But the talk with the pirates is the one that sticks in my mind the most.’ He gestured over the balcony railing. ‘Here come the Floating Children.’
‘Floating Children?’ Simone squealed, standing to see better.
The five- or six-year-old children wore elaborate costumes and make-up. They were poised on the end of long steel poles, making their feet level with the heads of the crowd. But the poles were invisible, camouflaged by complicated accessories that matched the children’s costumes. The children appeared to be standing, but it was obvious that they sat on chairs inside the costumes.
The costumes depicted traditional mythical characters as well as modern celebrities and politicians. One little boy dressed as a fireman sprayed water into the crowd from his miniature fire hose, making the audience scream with delight. Many of the girls were dressed as fairies and spirits in flowing robes.
‘Uncle Sun!’ Simone yelled, poin
ting to a little boy who was dressed as the Monkey King.
It was dusk by the time the procession ended. Simone yawned furiously. We moved inside and Monica presented us with a vegetarian meal that we ate at the dining table next to the upstairs living room.
Later, as we shared a pot of tea and discussed the parade, a chorus of thumps echoed on the door downstairs. John nodded to Monica, who went to open it.
John rose and stood to one side, his face fierce. He gestured for me to stand next to him, and I did.
Monica led a Taoist priest up the stairs. He wore the full regalia of a senior practitioner: vividly coloured robes with yin-yang symbols on them, and a high, square black hat. The face under the hat was mid-forties, with a kind, jolly expression, and I liked him immediately.
When he reached the top of the stairs he took two steps into the room and then fell to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor. ‘Man shui, man shui, man man shui.’
‘Hei sun,’ John said, his voice clipped.
The priest rose, then bowed slightly from the waist, very serious. ‘Celestial Highness. Welcome.’
John gestured towards me, still very formal. ‘This is my chosen, Lady Emma.’
The priest bowed slightly to me as well, saluting. ‘Ma’am.’
Simone didn’t bother with the formalities; she ran to the priest and raised her arms. ‘Uncle Ming!’
The priest lifted her, sat her on his hip, and kissed her on the cheek. He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a bun for her, which she accepted with delight. It was one of the buns from the three bun towers outside the temple; it had been stamped with a red good-luck motif. He carefully lowered Simone.
John gestured towards the couch and we all sat. Monica brought tea, and the priest poured. John nodded as he was served. Now the formalities were over we could all relax.
‘It’s a tremendous honour to have you back here with us, Highness,’ the priest said. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘Circumstances are quite difficult right now,’ John said. ‘Even worse than ‘78. But in a couple of years I will be gone for a very long time.’ He lifted his tea cup and gestured towards me with it. ‘Emma will be Regent.’
The priest was obviously taken aback. ‘The Celestial will permit a wedding in these circumstances?’
‘No. But she will be Regent regardless.’
‘You always were one for breaking the rules, Highness,’ the priest said, shaking his head with disbelief. He smiled at me. ‘Did you have any idea what you were getting into?’
‘No idea whatsoever, until it was too late.’ I shrugged. ‘And now it’s definitely too late.’
‘Kwan Yin herself has sponsored the Lady Emma,’ John said. ‘She is one of the most talented practitioners of the Arts I have seen in centuries. She loves Simone as her own. She is my chosen.’
I glanced at John, but he concentrated on the priest.
The priest bowed his head slightly to me. ‘I will be honoured to serve you, my Lady.’
John relaxed almost imperceptibly. He’d obviously been worried about the way the priest would receive me, but there didn’t seem to be a problem. I was relieved as well.
‘Come up to the temple after the noise has died down and we’re not so busy,’ the priest said. ‘Say hello to the acolytes. The renovations are finished, as well.’
‘Do they know too?’ I said.
The priest smiled. ‘I’m the only one who knows, my Lady. It is a trust handed down to each senior priest of the temple as they take the post.’
‘One of the most fun parts of the job,’ John said with amusement.
‘Oh, definitely,’ the priest said. ‘My Master took a photo when the Dark Lord revealed his true nature to me, and had it over his desk for a long time.’
‘That was the look I normally get,’ John said.
I was dying to ask about the arrangements that John had with the temple but it wasn’t the polite time to talk business yet. Small talk for a while, still.
‘How go things on the Celestial?’ the priest said.
‘All is well. But,’ John leaned back slightly, ‘there is a particular Demon Prince, number One Two Two, who has decided to make a bid for my head. His human name is Simon Wong.’
The priest’s face went rigid as he thought about the consequences.
‘I will give you an identikit photograph that Emma has created, and we will reset the seals on the temple every six weeks. I don’t want any of you held as hostages.’
‘My Lord,’ the priest said, nodding. ‘How powerful is this particular demon?’
‘Right now, not a threat,’ John said, raising his tea. ‘We will have to wait and see what his plans are.’
Okay, now I could talk business. ‘Exactly what arrangement do you have with the Dark Lord regarding the management of the temple?’ I asked. ‘I’ll be helping out after he’s gone. You said the temple had just been renovated? It looks terrific, they did a great job.’
The priest smiled with appreciation. ‘I think I will enjoy working with you, Lady Emma. Let me tell you about the management of the temple, and what your part will be.’
John sipped his tea, his eyes sparkling over the rim of the tea cup as we talked about administration and funding.
Simone was still heady with excitement as we took the boat back to Hong Kong Island. It was well past midnight, but she was full of nervous energy.
She eventually couldn’t hold it any longer and whispered in my ear, ‘Now?’
I nodded and she wriggled with delight. She went to the galley of the boat, opened a cupboard and pulled out a red-wrapped gift.
She took it to her father and held it out to him.
‘Happy birthday, Daddy,’ she said, very serious, then kissed him on the cheek.
John shot me a delighted glance and then grinned broadly at the gift. ‘I think this is the first time for me.’
‘Open it now, Western-style. We want to see your face,’ I said.
Simone came and sat next to me to watch. ‘Yeah, Daddy, open it.’
I quickly pulled a camera out as John proceeded to undo the tape that held the gift wrap. He pulled the wrap away, held the box up, turned it the right way up, then stared at it with shock.
I took a photo just as he lit up with a huge delighted grin and then roared with laughter. Got it.
‘Do you like it, Daddy?’ Simone said. ‘You can put it on your desk next to your computer monitor.’
‘Was this your idea?’ John asked Simone, still grinning broadly.
Simone glanced at me then back to her father without saying anything.
John turned the Ninja Turtle figure around so that we could see it. In Hong Kong the Ninja Turtles were called the Hero Turtles; the word ‘Ninja’ had too many unpleasant connotations. It meant ‘assassin’ in Japanese and was associated with stealthy murderers with no honour, completely at odds with the Western image of the powerful Ninja fighter.
‘Two swords,’ he said. ‘I only have one sword.’
‘You have two,’ Simone said. ‘Seven Stars and Dark Heavens.’
‘I suppose I do.’ He turned the box back around and studied the turtle figure. ‘It looks just like me.’
‘That’s the idea.’ I couldn’t hold it any more. Simone let go as well and we clutched each other and giggled with delight. That photo was very, very precious.
The minute we were home John took the turtle out of the box and put it carefully next to his monitor. It stayed on his desk, guarding his mess, for a long time.
CHAPTER SIX
John tapped on my bedroom door. ‘I’m in the middle of something,’ I growled loudly. ‘Can’t it wait?’
He poked his head around the door. ‘I have something to show you.’
I glared suspiciously at him. ‘Not another priceless antique weapon.’
‘No. Something for you.’ He gestured with his head. ‘Come and see.’
I pushed myself away from my desk. ‘Oh, all right. But I
need to finish this tonight.’
‘Don’t worry, it won’t take long.’ He opened the door for me. ‘It’s downstairs.’
He couldn’t control his expression as we went down in the lift together. I had never seen him looking quite so smug.
‘What have you bought?’ I said. ‘You’ll see.’
We went out of the ground-floor lift lobby and into the car park that surrounded the building.
He raised one hand towards the mid-size black Mercedes parked next to his.
‘That’s for you.’
I stopped dead, then spun to face him and pointed at it. ‘I don’t want this. Why didn’t you ask me first? This is totally unsuitable.’
He was taken aback. ‘What’s wrong with it? Is it too small?’
I sighed with exasperation and dropped my hand. ‘No, John, it’s much too big. I’d really prefer something much smaller, that’s easy to drive around and park. And black is too hot, a nice light blue would be much better. And not a Mercedes, that’s too much of a target. A cheap little Japanese hatchback would have been much better.’
‘You want a small, blue, cheap car?’
‘That would be perfect, yes. If it’s small enough, Leo won’t fit in it to drive it. And if it’s not black and luxurious, you wouldn’t be caught dead in it. I’d have it all to myself.’
He grinned broadly. ‘You’re quite correct.’ He eyed me sideways with delight. ‘You are very evil sometimes, Emma.’
I bowed slightly. ‘Thank you, Dark Lord.’ I gestured towards the car. ‘So can you swap this monstrosity for something more suitable?’
‘If you really want me to, I will. But Leo will be sharing it with you. Both of you will go to the Academy to teach, and to the school to watch Simone. Will you really force him to squeeze into such a tiny car?’
I sighed. ‘Okay. I’ll put up with this monster if I have to. But please don’t make me drive the other one; it’s enormous.’
‘Very well, my Lady, I thank you.’ He handed me the keys, very careful not to touch me. ‘Go up and find your Australian driver’s licence, and take it out for a run. Once you’ve had a drive in it, you may find you like it.’
