by Zen Cho
Holding his bowl of porridge, Ah Wing gave Guet Imm a look of acute embarrassment. He stammered, “There’s no need to say so much, brother…”
“At least if she fucked us like Ah Boon wanted, it might be worth keeping her,” said Ah Yee. “As it is, bringing her along is wasting rice only.”
“Don’t bring me into this,” snapped Ah Boon. “That was before I knew Sister Guet Imm. She is a nun. How can you blame her for not fucking people? It’s like if I blame you for not knowing how to behave. We all knew you’re a samseng when you joined. What else can we expect?”
Ah Boon was angry enough that he asked Guet Imm for a second serving of her rice porridge. She ladled out a bowl for him, keeping an eye on Ah Yee. Her face was open, a little puzzled: Why is brother so grouchy? she seemed to be wondering.
But her body language belied her expression. Her entire person was tense, ready to spring.
“You’re on her side because you hope she’ll change her mind,” said Ah Yee. He turned to Guet Imm. “You should give him a chance. Ah Boon’s dick is so small, it’s not like he even counts as a man.”
“Ah Yee,” said Tet Sang. “That’s enough.”
Ah Yee rolled his reddened eyes at him. “Why? You also want, is it? You should think twice, Second Brother. You’ll have to take turns with Ah Boon, and you don’t know how many cows he’s fucked.”
“I’ve said so many times already, it’s zero!” said Ah Boon.
“The only people who’ve been taking turns with people are you and Ah Wing,” said Fung Cheung to Ah Yee. “If it’s going to make you so ill-mannered, Sister Guet Imm won’t need to chop off your dick. I’ll do it for her. You don’t want me to be tempted, you’d better stop talking nonsense.”
His tone made the men steal surreptitious looks at one another, like children reprimanded by a teacher.
In any other mood, Ah Yee would have known to stop and take himself off. But beer and his sense of grievance, solidified over the past several days, overcame his discretion.
“We give the woman too much face,” he persisted. “If Second Brother hadn’t taken her along to Sungai Tombak, we’d have our money by now.” He jabbed a finger in Tet Sang’s chest, making Tet Sang stagger. “You’re the one who didn’t want her to join in the first place. Why did you change your mind? She sucked your dick, is it?”
Ah Yee’s jab had really been more of a shove. He wants to piss you off, Tet Sang reminded himself.
“Go to sleep, Ah Yee,” he said, swallowing his irritation.
But it was too late. The moment Ah Yee had touched Tet Sang, Guet Imm had put down her ladle.
“You and Brother Lau are really good, brother,” she said to Tet Sang, in a honeyed voice. “The way you take pity on the soft-minded, the deity will surely reward you!”
Ah Yee said, “You mean the deity will—”
“No, I don’t mean she will grant sexual favours, brother,” said Guet Imm serenely. “The Pure Moon is a goddess, you know. You mustn’t confuse her with the girl who laughed at you today when you were grovelling to the mata. That must have been very embarrassing!”
“Shut up!” growled Ah Yee. He cuffed her—or tried to. Guet Imm caught his wrist.
“Ah Yee!” said Fung Cheung, half-rising, but Tet Sang was looking at Guet Imm.
“Sister,” he said in a warning tone.
But this was the excuse Guet Imm had been waiting for. She ignored him.
“Oh, brother, that was a bad idea!” she said softly, shining eyes fixed on Ah Yee.
Ah Yee screamed, yanking back his arm, but Guet Imm wouldn’t let him go. He shoved his other hand into his robe. When it emerged, it held a blade.
The men were all on their feet.
“Come, brother, enough already,” said Ah Wing, hovering apprehensively behind Ah Yee. “There’s no need for all this!”
“Sister, get back!” shouted Ah Hin.
“I am going to chop off everybody’s dicks!” snarled Fung Cheung.
Guet Imm did not seem to notice the noise. When Ah Yee lunged at her, he found she was no longer there. She pinned his arm behind his back and slipped the knife out of his hand.
“Argh!” said Ah Yee. He twisted around, his face purple. “Go and die, you fucking whore, and your precious deity too!”
Guet Imm elbowed him forcefully in the side. As he gasped, she hit the back of his neck, downing him. Once he was on the ground, she kicked him in the stomach for good measure.
“Sister, that’s enough,” said Tet Sang. To immobilise Ah Yee was one thing, but that last kick had been pure spite.
But Guet Imm wasn’t listening, to him or the others, who were each loudly articulating his opinion on what she should do or stop doing. She dropped to her knees, seized Ah Yee by the forelock and pulled back his head. Firelight gleamed off metal as she raised the blade she had taken from him.
It was not the time to remind Guet Imm of the Pure Moon’s decrees against unnecessary violence. Tet Sang grabbed Guet Imm’s arm, squeezing mercilessly. When she loosened her grip in surprise, he snatched the knife out of her hand.
“I said, that’s enough,” he said.
“Quiet, all of you,” he added over his shoulder to everyone else. “They could hear you from Kempas! You want the mata to come and catch us?”
Guet Imm was still clutching Ah Yee’s hair as though she was considering simply breaking his neck now that Tet Sang had deprived her of the knife. He had no doubt she could do it.
“He insulted the deity!” she said.
“So what?” said Tet Sang. “She’s a goddess. What does Ah Yee’s insult matter to her? If she wants to punish him, let her punish. For humans, she set limits. You are about to go over.”
Everything Tet Sang said was unarguable according to the doctrines of the Order. Still, Guet Imm wavered. “None of the deity’s rules are set in stone. You’re allowed to exercise discretion.”
Tet Sang gave this sophistry the attention it deserved. “You’ve done enough, sister. Let Ah Yee go.”
After a moment, Guet Imm released Ah Yee’s head, letting it drop to the ground. A groan confirmed that Ah Yee was conscious, but—with the most sense he’d shown that evening—he stayed still while Guet Imm stormed off.
Ah Hin made an aborted movement, as though he was thinking of following her, but Tet Sang caught Fung Cheung’s eyes and shook his head.
“Never mind her,” said Fung Cheung. “Someone help Ah Yee. Ah Boon, go and have a look at him.”
“He said I fucked cows,” protested Ah Boon.
But Fung Cheung had exhausted his fund of patience for the day.
“Who hasn’t said you fuck cows?” he snapped. “We’ve all said it. You want to be sensitive, you can go find another group. You all are too much. Any more and I’ll report us to the mata myself. At least then I might get some peace!”
Ah Wing helped Ah Yee to sit up. Ah Boon went to tend to him, grumbling under his breath. The others started tidying up—a fair amount of rice porridge had got distributed across the camp in the course of the quarrel.
Fung Cheung turned to Tet Sang.
“What the hell was that?” said Fung Cheung.
* * *
Guet Imm was sitting cross-legged in the shelter Ah Hin had built for her, her hands folded. The uninitiated might have thought she was meditating.
“You’re sulking,” said Tet Sang.
“Where got?” said Guet Imm sulkily.
Conscious that this was less than convincing, she retreated into aloof silence. Her bad mood was palpable—Tet Sang could almost see the black cloud above her head.
Tet Sang stood for a while, considering his course of action, then sat down on a convenient bundle. He allowed himself to grimace while he did it, though there was merely a slight twinge from his wound.
Guet Imm glared at him.
“The relics are in there,” she said.
Tet Sang looked down at the mud-stained bundle. It was something of a comedown for t
he sarira from having been cherished in a gold goblet, but, “They’ll survive,” he said.
Guet Imm could hardly disagree, since orthodoxy held that the relics of the Pure Moon were indestructible, harder than diamond. Besides, his grimace had bothered her. She kept her meditation pose for a few more seconds, stealing looks under lowered lashes at Tet Sang, while he enjoyed the novel sensation of being the unflustered one.
Eventually, Guet Imm snapped.
“You’re hurt,” she said. “Did Brother Ah Yee poke your wound? I knew it!”
Tet Sang waved a dismissive hand. “It’s itchy only.”
“Let me look at it,” said Guet Imm.
Changing the dressing calmed her down. The black cloud dispersed. It left Guet Imm far from penitent but—Tet Sang thought—in a state that could be worked on.
“Ah Lau wants you to say sorry to Ah Yee,” he said.
Guet Imm’s head whipped up. “Say sorry for what? Brother Ah Yee’s the one who started it!”
“I’m not saying it’s fair,” said Tet Sang. “But a group like this is like a family. It’s important to maintain harmony. Ah Yee is under pressure. His mother is not well. His sister is a widow with children. If we don’t find some way to get the money, his relatives will not eat.”
Guet Imm was not impressed. “Would he like men to talk to his mother and sister the way he talked today?”
“If you want to say Ah Yee doesn’t know how to behave, that’s true,” said Tet Sang. “But when did he have the chance to learn? You are different. You’ve had advantages he’s never had.”
“The deity speaks to everyone,” said Guet Imm defiantly. “It’s whether they want to hear or not.”
Tet Sang waited while she washed her hands and dried them, scowling.
Finally she said, “You think I should apologise.”
“Who cares what I think? You’re the one who sat in a cell for how many years thinking about right and wrong,” said Tet Sang. “What do you think you should do?”
Guet Imm looked furious. The youngest novice of the Order of the Pure Moon could have told them that according to the deity’s precepts, it was for Guet Imm to bow her head and forget her ego.
“I wasn’t thinking about right or wrong when I was in seclusion,” she retorted. “I wasn’t thinking about anything. That’s the point of meditation. You’re supposed to empty your mind.”
“You’re right, of course,” said Tet Sang mildly.
Guet Imm glowered at him some more. “If I don’t say sorry, then what? Brother Lau will kick me out?”
Tet Sang shrugged. “It’s Ah Lau’s group. It’s for him to decide.”
Guet Imm shook out her sleeves, raising her head with the air of a martyr. “If I have to say sorry or he’ll kick me out, then there’s no choice. I have nowhere else to go.” She shot Tet Sang a vengeful look, daring him to say anything about coffeehouses.
But having won his point, Tet Sang had no interest in gloating. “Thank you, sister. Sometimes, we all have to sacrifice to keep the peace.” He paused, then added, “Ah Lau might ask about your martial arts training.”
Guet Imm had turned, as though she meant to charge out and get the apology over with right then. She looked back. “What about it?”
“The men were surprised you knew how to fight.” Tet Sang examined his grubby nails dispassionately.
Guet Imm blinked. “Really? Don’t they know anything about the Order?”
Tet Sang hummed. “You’ll be surprised what people know—or think they know. There’s been,” he said deliberately, “some talk about witchcraft.”
“Oh?” said Guet Imm. “And what did you say?”
It was the first time that evening that Tet Sang found it hard to decipher her expression. But simplicity had served him well so far.
“I cannot say what I don’t know,” he said. “I was not an anchorite. Even—back then—these things were closed to me.”
Guet Imm sat back down, frowning.
“Shaping the earth is one thing,” she said. She was referring to the five key devotional practices of followers of the Pure Moon—the five fingers of the goddess’s hand. The first: emptying the gourd with meditation. The second: filling the gourd with the chanting of scriptures. The third: planting seeds by analysing the scriptures. The fourth: shaping the earth by cultivating one’s physical powers. And the fifth: shaping the air by cultivating one’s spiritual powers. The last included the practice of the healing arts but also other arts which were rather more obscure. Laypeople called these magic.
All five fingers were regarded as divine mysteries, to each of which a votary could productively devote a lifetime. But that did not mean there was no hierarchy.
“I can tell them how I learnt to fight,” said Guet Imm. “But the fifth finger of the deity’s hand … that is a deep matter. Even if I know how to explain, will they know how to understand?”
“Not much scares the men,” said Tet Sang. “But who is comfortable when it comes to witchcraft? I cannot tell you what to say, sister. But if it’s Ah Lau who asks, I think it’s best to give him some kind of answer. To say nothing will make people nervous, and frightened men behave badly. You saw Ah Yee tonight.”
Guet Imm’s face fell. “Is it so easy for them to distrust me? I’ve done my best for you all, brother. Can you say I didn’t contribute? Try and smell Brother Ah Hin!”
“We all smell better,” Tet Sang reassured her. “Don’t get me wrong. The men are still your friends. I am just saying, be careful. Most of them are not in a good situation. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have become roving contractors.
“Everyone knows we cannot risk waiting three weeks for Yeoh Thean Tee to come back. The only place to hide from the mata is the jungle. But if we stay here, how are we supposed to hide from the bandits? Right now, the men are disappointed. It won’t take much to make them desperate.”
“Oh, we won’t have to wait three weeks,” said Guet Imm. “I know what we can do. I would have told Brother Lau if not for all the disturbance.”
Tet Sang stared. “What?”
“It’s not like only Yeoh Thean Tee has keys to the Yeoh family vault,” said Guet Imm. “There are other people in the family.”
“The maid told us everyone went on this business trip.”
“No, she told us Yeoh Thean Tee’s sons and nephews went with him,” said Guet Imm. “But when she said there was nobody in the house, that made me wonder who counted as somebody. I thought, Surely, Yeoh Thean Tee didn’t take his wife and mother along. So, I went back to his house in the afternoon—”
“You what?”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t talk to anybody but the servants,” said Guet Imm. “It was a good thing I went back; they gave me the vegetables for our dinner. Otherwise, we would have had to eat white rice. And they told me Grandmother and Mrs Yeoh were at home, along with all the daughters-in-law and nieces and whatnot—all the women.”
“So what?”
“Well, at first I thought Grandmother was promising,” said Guet Imm. “Even Yeoh Thean Tee must listen to his mother. But apparently, her father was a foreigner and she prays at the Protectorate’s churches. I was very disappointed, but then the maids told me something interesting. Remember I told you about Yeoh Gaik Tin?”
Tet Sang didn’t, but nevertheless the name sounded familiar. He searched his memory. “You mean Yeoh Thean Tee’s daughter? The acolyte?”
“We called her Sister Anitya,” said Guet Imm.
“She was at your tokong?” said Tet Sang. “You didn’t tell me that!”
“I did,” insisted Guet Imm. “I told you, Yeoh Thean Tee paid for our turtle pond.”
This, Tet Sang did recollect. “You didn’t say it was because his daughter was a novice at your tokong.”
“Why else would Yeoh Thean Tee buy us a turtle pond?” said Guet Imm.
This was unanswerable, and Tet Sang was not interested in answering it anyway. A horrible thought had struck him. “You said ther
e was nobody left alive from your tokong.” If their hopes of payment depended on a nun of the very Order that had been involved in the death of Yeoh Thean Tee’s daughter, they were finished.
“Oh, nobody who was still there,” said Guet Imm. “But you know rich people, brother; they stay for a short time only. Sister Anitya left the Order when I was in seclusion, long before the bandits came. She’s married now. She could help us.”
It seemed highly unlikely to Tet Sang that a man like Yeoh Thean Tee would pay any regard to the opinions of a daughter, and he said so.
“There’s no way she’ll have authority to forgive the debt,” he said. “If we try to negotiate with her, Yeoh Thean Tee will simply send his men after us to take back whatever she gives us. Then not only will we be in debt to him, we’ll be the people who tried to con his daughter.”
“You don’t know Sister Anitya,” said Guet Imm. “I did. She could make the deal for us.”
“So, you want to ask her,” said Tet Sang. When Guet Imm nodded, he said, with a vision of how Fung Cheung would look when he was recommended another fruitless quest, “And where does she live?”
“Kempas,” said Guet Imm triumphantly. “The husband left his family to join hers. See?”
It wasn’t unheard of for the son of a lower-status family to be absorbed into his wife’s household and lineage instead of the other way around. But … “Didn’t Yeoh Gaik Tin marry a rich man?”
“Chuah Siaw Loon. He’s a timber tycoon,” said Guet Imm. “It wasn’t a matter of money or name. It’s Sister Anitya’s character. If she wants to make the deal, it will happen. I just need to talk to her. If she’s anything like she was at the tokong, she will help.”
Tet Sang opened his mouth to protest, though he could feel his scepticism crumbling in the face of her certainty. Guet Imm was nothing like the Abbot at Permatang Timbul in almost every respect, but she shared with the Abbot the rare quality of a faith so potent that it gave off its own heat and light, dazzling onlookers. It was impossible not to trust that things would be as she said.
