The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure

by Adam Williams

  ‘Ten tens of thousands of years!’ shouted Tang Dexin, his gums cracking open in a sly grin. ‘And to De Falang’s assistant, this young stallion who is marrying De Falang’s daughter. When their seeds mingle, may she produce the fattest of grandsons to grow up strong and prosperous like De Falang!’ He patted a bony hand on Tom’s knee.

  ‘Ganbei! Ganbei!’ Delamere emptied his cup. ‘Come on, Tom. Knock it back. They’re drinking to all the grandsons you’re going to produce for me!’

  Blushing, Tom drained his glass.

  ‘Very strong.’ Tang nodded approvingly towards Delamere as he squeezed Tom’s leg. ‘Your daughter will make big sons. Big sons!’ He threw back his head in a shrill giggle. Then, in the sudden manner of the very aged, his head dropped forward on his chest, his smile still fixed on his face, and he went to sleep, hunched like a shrunken sparrow on his stool.

  ‘But are you not worried, Lao Lu?’ Jin Shangui returned the conversation to the alkali shipment. ‘Such rich merchandise through the Black Hills and beyond. The bandits are becoming more and more daring. If Iron Man Wang hears…’

  ‘Tom’s already fought off the bandits, haven’t you, Tom? On the way here.’ Delamere looked proudly at his prospective son-in-law. ‘Tell them how you scared them off.’

  ‘Oh, I heard about this,’ said the doctor. ‘This was in the Black Hills, wasn’t it? The Mandarin is always telling me not to be concerned, but these incidents occur with such regularity.’

  Tom smiled. ‘Well, sir, HF, that’s Miss Delamere, is convinced that we were set on by the Robber King himself. We were actually all a bit nervy after the executions we’d seen at Fuxin, tales of Boxers and so on, so when we came across these men ahead of us with shotguns on their backs—it was in that craggy defile with the waterfalls, in the gap between the fir forests—and these fellows, about six of them, suddenly flitted out from behind the tree-trunks, as sinister a bunch as you ever saw, well, maybe, we put two and two together and made five. With the darkness and the rain coming on we were all a bit spooked. Anyway, Henry, that’s Mr Manners, fired his rifle in the air. The men, whoever they were, vanished like phantoms, and we trotted our mules and horses onwards to get out of there as quickly as we could. I think they were probably quite innocent, just hunters or travellers like us. They weren’t really that threatening, though Henry acted decisively, and made us keep watch all that night. That’s all, really. Not much of a story to tell in the cold light of day.’

  ‘Ah, Mr Tom is so modest,’ said Jin Shangui. ‘A toast, this is certainly worth a toast. To his heroic behaviour. Ganbei! And to that of your daughter. Ganbei again! What a terrifying ordeal. Terrifying. Terrifying,’ he said, blinking behind his spectacles. ‘What is law and order coming to when a man cannot go about his business without fear? And you still wish to travel these roads again with Lao Lu? To Tsitsihar, was it? I salute your bravery. When did you say you would be departing?’

  ‘When are we off?’ said Delamere. ‘Oh, I should think—’

  ‘No date has been fixed,’ interrupted Lu calmly. ‘One would not wish to encourage gossip or tempt Providence. I have noticed,’ he said, looking sardonically at Delamere, ‘that any attacks on merchant trains have followed a certain amount of publicity about their departure.’

  ‘Quite so,’ muttered Delamere sheepishly. ‘Mum’s the word. Of course.’

  ‘Indeed you are so right,’ said Jin. ‘They say Iron Man Wang has his spies all over the town. This is only a conversation among friends, so it is safe to speak here, but you are right to be cautious. De Falang, you must listen to the wise advice of Mr Lu and remain silent about your intentions.’

  ‘In this case, there should be no great concern,’ said Lu, ‘even if Iron Man Wang were to hear. We are only developing our business and will be carrying nothing that will be of value to him. I appreciate your concern, Lao Jin, but on this trip we are only transporting samples, a few worthless crystals, and there will be no payment even on our return.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Frank. ‘No bags of money this time. Won’t be until after spring that we have the big shipments. Then there’ll be a tael or two in the strong box. Oh, Lord,’ he said, looking at Lu who was giving him an ironic smile, ‘have I been indiscreet again?’

  Lu Jincai laughed and raised his cup. ‘De Falang Xiansheng, you are a mountain of tact and discretion and I am proud that you are my friend and partner. Let me, too, toast the happiness of your daughter and new son-in-law who I am also honoured to meet.’

  They clinked and drained their cups. Old Mr Tang woke up from his doze. His eyes narrowed shrewdly. ‘Has your daughter wide hips, De Falang Xiansheng? To produce big sons she must have wide hips. And you, young man, you must not be too eager to disgorge your virile essence when making the clouds and rain. Tease out her pleasure as long as you can. The more you pleasure her the fatter the sons she will bear.’

  ‘Thank you for the tip, sir,’ said Tom. ‘I’ll certainly bear that in mind.’

  * * *

  The waitresses brought fruit—apples, persimmons and pears—and shortly afterwards the party broke up. Jin Shangui helped Tang Dexin, slightly the worse for wear, through the door and down the stairs to his waiting sedan chair. The others followed. On the way, there were further loud congratulations; Jin Shangui offered to throw a large wedding banquet for the young couple; old Mr Tang volunteered to hire an opera troupe for the occasion; Frank was trying to offer everybody a cigar. Lu took his friend by the arm. ‘May I have a quiet word with you, De Falang Xiansheng?’

  ‘Tom and the doctor?’

  ‘Have followed the others downstairs. They are happily engaged in conversation.’

  ‘I know, I know. You’re about to lecture me on giving away too much about our Tsitshihar deal. I truly am sorry but I did assume we were among friends today.’

  ‘It’s not wise to reveal anything even to one’s friends. You do not entirely know China. There are many loyalties and conflicts that make friendship a floating commodity—although we prize it higher than anything else. I beg you, do not tell Mr Jin Shangui any more about the schedules of our mule trains.’

  ‘Old Jin? You can’t suspect that Jin would…’

  ‘Is it not strange that while his caravans have been attacked on many occasions he has never actually been robbed?’

  ‘He has good guards who drove off the bandits. As Tom did.’

  ‘Quite so,’ smiled Lu. ‘And we must arm our caravans likewise, on whatever—secret—day they depart. Secret, De Falang.’ Lu’s eyes were twinkling with humorous affection. ‘But it was not about business that I wished to talk to you.’ His thick eyebrows narrowed in concern. ‘I got your message about your friend in the Palace of Heavenly Pleasure, and I have prepared a letter and a gift that may be suitable for her. No, do not thank me. Instead, think, De Falang. Do you really wish to make this final break?’

  Frank sighed. ‘It’s probably for the best,’ he said, in a small voice. He raised his haggard eyes. ‘Look, old man, Mother Liu spelled out the facts of life so even a dim barbarian like me can understand. There’s nothing there. She’s a whore and I’m a foolish old man.’

  ‘I would advise you not always to trust the words of a woman like Mother Liu. I could not find Shen Ping when I called there last night…’

  ‘Probably having it off with someone upstairs. Playing his jade flute,’ said Frank bitterly.

  ‘They told me that she was sick, indisposed. They were all rather strange about it when I asked. Anyway, I’ll find out more … But meanwhile I think that you may be being too hard on her. I understand that she was much looking forward to leaving with you.’

  ‘So she could whore from my lodgings? So I can pimp for her instead of Mother Liu? Come on, Lu. Leopards don’t change their spots. She led me along. Fine, but now it’s over.’

  Lu shrugged. ‘As you please. I will deliver your letter and gift, or see that she gets it.’

  Frank shook Lu by both hands. ‘Thanks, o
ld friend. What would I do without you?’

  ‘You now have your daughter again, and a fine new son-in-law. You are a lucky, happy man.’

  ‘I suppose I am,’ said Frank. ‘I suppose I am.’

  * * *

  On Friday evening at seven o’clock the Airtons had taken their places in the sitting room ready to receive their guests. Nellie had tucked up the children, Jenny and George, half an hour earlier, but as soon as she had turned down the lamp and left the nursery, the two little night-shirted figures had crept out of their beds and down the corridor, keeping carefully to the shadows. They were now hiding behind the coat stands near the main door, tense with excitement. They were expecting to see the hanged lady who had miraculously come back to life again. Of course, their mother had insisted that Ah Lee’s story had been a fib from start to finish and that Miss Delamere had been alive and well all the time. The children, however, had had enough experience of dealing with adults to know that truth was a multilayered affair, and nothing should ever be taken at face value.

  Neither Jenny nor George had much confidence in their parents’ truthfulness anyway. Not since Archie, their father’s chow dog’s untimely death. When Archie had been run over by a cart, Ah Lee had immediately sat them down in the kitchen and given them all the gory details. He had described how their father had taken one look at the broken legs and back and, there and then, snapped the dog’s neck to prevent further suffering. The children quite understood why he had done this: in the western stories the doctor liked to read to them, cowboys were always putting bullets into the heads of their brave, wounded horses. They had been shocked, however, by the story their mother and father had told them that evening over tea. In this sanitised version of events, Archie had been suffering from a terminal illness (this was strange because he had looked fine when he romped with the children that morning); God had decided to relieve his suffering; he had died quietly in his sleep, having given a last bark and a lick before rolling over on his side; and now he was in doggy heaven. It had been a soppy and unbelievable story, and the children had been embarrassed. They could only assume that the shock of the animal’s death had been so great that neither their father nor their mother wanted to face the truth, and that they were somehow trying to comfort themselves with this patent lie. They were too polite to contradict their father when he began to tell them about the grave he was going to make for Archie on the hillside; they did not wish to cause him any further upset by telling him how they had seen Ah Lee take Archie’s body into the kitchen and boil him into a stew.

  Tonight, therefore, when judging the probability of whether Miss Delamere had or had not hanged herself, George and Jenny were inclined to give the benefit of the doubt to Ah Lee whom they saw as a forthright, hard-boiled and, above all, reliable witness. Ah Lee’s description of the hanged lady had been very convincing indeed. The fact that the corpse had revived and was coming to dinner was a surprise, but they had heard of stranger things. They knew that the countryside was full of ghosts and vampires and fox spirits. Ah Lee would tell them spine-chilling stories during those afternoons when they sat with him in the kitchen watching him polish the silver or clean the shoes, and once Ah Sun had come in very agitated having seen the ghost of one of the patients in the shrubbery. They had come to accept that odd things happened outside the safety of their compound. George argued that if Miss Delamere really had hanged herself then it was only logical that she had turned into a fox spirit. That would make it perfectly possible for her to come to dinner in her former guise. Everyone knew that fox spirits were beautiful women who waited on lonely roadsides at night, luring unwary scholars to their homes in the forests where they gave them wine to drink then tore out their throats when they fell asleep. But Ah Lee had also told them that, as often as not, they were the ghosts of lonely women who had hanged themselves when rejected by their lovers. ‘Just like Miss Delamere,’ said George. ‘QED.’

  ‘But her lover didn’t reject her,’ said Jenny. ‘It was her father who wouldn’t let her marry.’

  ‘Same thing,’ said George. ‘Still stopped the marriage and drove her to kill herself.’

  ‘But anyway, they are getting married now. Isn’t it an engagement party we’re having here tonight? If she’s getting married she can’t have hanged herself, can she?’

  ‘Yes, but is it the real Miss Delamere? Maybe they don’t know she hanged herself and became a fox spirit, and the reason why Mr Delamere’s now allowed the marriage is that he’s been hypnotised by her magic powers.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Jenny doubtfully. ‘We’ll need to look for a mark on her neck, I suppose. The rope must have left a bruise.’

  The two hovered behind the coat stand, watching Ah Lee usher in the guests. The railway people appeared first—Dr Fischer and his funny assistant, Charlie Zhang, smiling and chattering in his silk gown. Jenny liked it when Mr Charlie came. He was the most unChinese Chinaman she had ever met, and she looked forward to his presents—red envelopes full of money, or sweetmeats, and once a doll dressed in peasant clothes—that he would slip into her hands with a wink and a smile when her mother wasn’t looking. She knew that he probably had a present for her tonight but, like George, she preferred to stay in her hiding place until the mysterious lady appeared. Unlike George, she only half believed that Miss Delamere might be a fox spirit, but she was excited and a little scared all the same.

  George tugged her hand. ‘Jen. Jen. Look. She’s here,’ he whispered urgently. ‘And, by golly—she’s wearing a choker!’

  A beautiful young lady was slipping off her coat. She had very white, slightly freckled arms and dark red hair, which shifted tones in the candlelight from chestnut to cherry to amber. She wore a long purple evening dress of taffeta and lace, and she had green eyes like a cat’s. She reminded Jenny of one of the princesses in her book of Celtic fairy tales. Around her neck was a thick black neckband, which bore a large amethyst locket. Behind her, handing in their hats, were Mr Delamere and an enormous, yellow-haired man with a kind face.

  ‘That proves it,’ George was saying excitedly. ‘She’s covering up the marks on her neck.’

  ‘But she’s beautiful,’ gasped Jenny.

  ‘Of course she is. All fox spirits are. That’s why they’re so dangerous.’

  ‘Well, I believe she’s real and alive, and I’m going to prove it,’ she said. Taking her courage in her hands, she stepped out and curtsied.

  ‘Why, hello,’ said the big young man. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I know. You must be Jenny,’ said the lady, in a sweet voice. ‘I’m Helen Frances. I’m so pleased to meet you.’ Jenny stiffened. How did she know her name? Was she a spirit after all? And then she smelt a whiff of perfume and a tickle of red hair brushing against her cheek as Miss Delamere leaned forward and kissed her lightly. She closed her eyes, partly in fear, partly in delight.

  When she opened them again, the Delameres’ party, including the beautiful lady, had already moved down the corridor to the sitting room where her father and mother were waiting to greet their guests. Another man was standing in front of her looking down at her with an amused expression. She had never seen anyone better dressed or more elegant. He wore a black dinner suit with a red cape and he was folding his white gloves into his sleeve. He had a small moustache and laughing blue eyes, and she thought that he must be a prince or a duke at the least. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’m Manners. Are you my beautiful hostess? I’ll tell you what, my dear, you keep that peaches-and-cream complexion, and I guarantee that in ten years you’ll be the toast of all St James’s.’ And he, too, leaned forward and kissed her on the brow.

  Jenny was stunned. It was only when the coast was clear and she felt a tugging on her sleeve from George, who had emerged from behind the coat stand, that she dared open her eyes again.

  ‘Did you see any scars or marks?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Jenny. ‘She’s beautiful. An angel.’

  ‘That’s what all the fox spirit’
s victims say,’ said George. ‘Nothing proven, then. I didn’t like that dark man either. Do you suppose he’s the lover?’

  But Jenny was still bereft of words.

  ‘Come on, Jen,’ said George. ‘She didn’t bite you, did she? You’re not in a trance? We’d better get back to our room before Mummy or Daddy catch us.’

  But Jenny loitered, still enraptured, gazing at the door of the sitting room where there was a murmur of conversation. ‘Oh, I wish I was a grown-up and could go in there and be with them,’ she sighed, ‘and hear what they’re all saying. Don’t you think they’re the most exciting people we’ve ever seen?’

  * * *

  Exciting was not a word that would have occurred immediately to Helen Frances. Looking round the faces of these strangers she felt a sense of dislocation. When she had dreamed about joining her father, her schoolgirl fantasies had conjured an image of Shishan as a place of mystery, throbbing with dark, exotic life, full of dangers and allurements. She had not imagined that within days of her arrival she would be sitting down to dinner in the sort of middle-class English home she thought that she had left behind her (the wood-panelled dining room was not unlike her aunt’s in Crowborough) or that her hosts would be as conventional as Dr and Mrs Airton.

  She knew that she was being naïve. How else would English people abroad behave? Was it really surprising that long-term exiles should wish to re-create the comforting environment of the home counties? Had she expected that Dr and Mrs Airton would be living in a palace? But she could not contain a sense of disappointment. It was strangeness and new sensation that she desired above all else. She had experienced a sense of wonder on her journey. The sights and experiences had heightened her anticipation, and she had imagined that Shishan, the magical destination that had coloured her childhood dreams, would be a Xanadu of delights. Yet up to now all she had seen was a shabby, very smelly town, with dusty streets and alien, rather forbidding inhabitants. Now she found herself again in the humdrum normality from which for most of her short life she had fretted to get away.