The Imperial Alchemist

by A. H. Wang

  Still marvelling at the lack of injuries on his body, he asked, “But how? I do not understand.”

  “You begged me,” said Naaya, guilt in her dark eyes. “You held on to my arm with your bloody hand and you asked me to save you. So I… I did.”

  Something in her voice alarmed Hsu Fu.

  “What did you do?”

  37

  “I thought no one had followed me when I went to Naaya’s hut. I was wrong, and that mistake cost my friend’s life,” Charlie admits.

  Georgia frowns, waiting for him to go on. Mostly silent for the past hour, she is quietly digesting his story. The towering street lamps along the freeway flicker on in the waning afternoon light. More vehicles join them on the road as they approach rush hour, but the traffic remains smooth closer to the country town of Yilan.

  Her face is tilted as she watches this stranger: the long, slender fingers curled around the steering wheel, his expressions calm and difficult to decipher. Georgia searches her mind to pinpoint exactly what she finds unnerving about the older man’s presence. Ever since their meeting earlier today, she’s been having trouble gauging his reactions. Even when she gave him the lengthy confession of how she found him, she wasn’t sure if he was going to burst into laughter at the preposterous story, or confirm her tale. The uncertainties worry her.

  Charlie has a peculiar way of speaking that becomes evident after listening to him for a length of time. Although he largely uses colloquial speech, at times he slips into bouts of long, eloquent prose, using obsolete words that make him sound almost like a character out of a historical documentary. There’s also his accent, which she can’t quite place. It sounds like a mixed bag of various origins: some American, all different kinds of British, and even a bit of South African.

  “What happened?” she asks after Charlie has paused for some time, staring out the windscreen.

  “Naaya was killed when Wang Jian found us a day later. One of his men had picked up my trail and brought the general straight to Naaya’s hut. I went out to collect some food early morning, and when I came back I found a man holding Naaya down while Wang Jian cut off her head.”

  “Jesus,” Georgia whispers.

  “You see, Georgia,” Charlie continues, “this is how the elixir works: it accelerates the healing processes of the body, making all of its functions much more efficient so that instead of deteriorating, the cells are renewed every day. Of course, any scar tissue from previous injuries are never erased; I have one on my knee from a childhood tumble that is still there. But for cuts received after one drinks the elixir, it is a different matter. Small wounds heal within seconds, as you have witnessed. Deeper ones take longer as there are more tissues to repair. But some wounds cannot be healed at all.”

  “So it’s still possible to die.”

  “Yes,” he confirms. “When Wang Jian saw me returning the hut, he threw Naaya’s bloody, severed head at me. He was laughing. Damn witch, he said, let us see her grow another, if she can.” Charlie shakes his head. “That is when I lost it. All I remember was grabbing for the man closest to me. It was over within minutes, and I had the general’s sword pressed against his own throat.

  “Wang Jian did not even utter a word. He did not beg for his life. All he did was stare defiantly into my eyes. I had so much hatred for him at this point: he had hunted me, tortured me, and now he had killed my friend—the person who had given me a second chance at life, and taught me so much. Before I knew what I was doing and before I could stop myself, I sliced open his throat, and I walked out of that hut, leaving him to die.”

  Charlie stares at his hands, murmuring almost to himself. “That was the first time, the only time, I have ever killed. Sometimes I can still hear the gurgling sound he made as I walked away. For years I had nightmares about that night.”

  They fall into silence, Charlie’s gaze distant as he drives on, Georgia chewing over all the information that has been revealed.

  After a few moments, he sighs. “So ever since then my life has been a semi-nomadic existence. I move frequently to avoid suspicions concerning my unchanging appearance. I try to keep a low profile, most of the time.”

  “That must be a lonely way to live.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. But over time, I learnt to deal with it. I learnt to appreciate the transient nature of my life. There are not many parts of the world that I have not yet visited,” he turns, smiling at her now. “I kept learning. After so many years, I am still learning—about life, about medicine and healing, and about all of the wonderful new scientific discoveries we make year after year. I began to meditate, and I have studied with many, many teachers and sages in my lifetime.”

  “And you also collected ancient artefacts to donate them to museums.”

  He laughs, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. “Yes, well, when I collected a lot of those items, they were still contemporary. It is a practice I picked up when I saw Emperor Qin destroying all the writings he did not approve of. I believe it is important to protect our cultural heritage and to give it back to the public, so that the new generation can learn from the past, do you not agree?”

  Georgia smiles, nodding. So much of the world’s cultural history has been destroyed by wars, and humanity only sees the value of artefacts hundreds of years later.

  Then she frowns as a thought crosses her mind.

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand,” she begins. “Why are you telling me all of this? You barely know me, and I’m meant to be working for a man who wants to make the elixir available to the rest of the world. I gather that’s not what you want, or you would have done it already. All this time, you’ve avoided being discovered, and I suspect you’re very good at it. How is it possible that I still managed to find you, especially when you knew that I was looking for you? Unless—unless you wanted to be found…” She falters at this thought.

  Charlie is quiet as he turns to her, a wry smile on his face that she does not comprehend. “Georgia. You did not find me, I found you.”

  38

  Hank stands before Mark Lambert’s desk, quietly watching as his boss processes the lengthy report he has just delivered regarding Professor Lee. A feeling of dread sits low in his stomach as he awaits a response.

  He did not anticipate Georgia disappearing on him the way she did. It puzzles him immensely. The professor is a low-maintenance kind of girl; she seems meek enough, and they’ve developed a friendship—albeit over the phone—that made him believe managing her would be easy. Well, easier than the others he’s had to babysit. God knows he has enough on his plate, working for the man sitting at the desk before him.

  Women. He’ll never understand them.

  Lambert is silent, his face dark and unreadable. He slowly leans back in his chair, then raises his eyes to meet Hank’s. Instantly, Hank recognises that look: he has only seen it a few times over the years, but each occurrence has been memorable.

  “Tell me, Hank, how long have you been working for me?” Lambert’s voice is frighteningly calm.

  “Almost ten years now, sir.”

  “Those have been ten good years, and your exemplary service has been appreciated.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Hank says, feeling unsettled by Lambert’s tone.

  “And in those ten years of working as my right-hand man, have you ever seen me tolerate any kind of mistakes or incompetence from my staff?”

  “No, sir.” Hank swallows past the lump in his throat.

  Lambert fixes Hank’s gaze with a steely stare. “Then consider this a courtesy: I suggest you find the professor before you lose your job, Hank. I will not warn you again.”

  “I don’t understand,” Georgia says, confused by the revelation.

  Charlie sighs, shifting in his driver’s seat, his gaze fixed on the road before them. When he finally speaks again, he does not address her question straight away.

  “My wife, Hsu Yin, grieved for our son’s death for a long time. The sadness became chronic, and her
health suffered thereafter.”

  Georgia furrows her brows at the sudden change of topic. But she decides to go along with it. “She didn’t take the elixir?”

  “No, there was none left. Naaya had used the last dose on me.” He shakes his head. “And in any case, Naaya did not think Hsu Yin would have handled the change well—especially with the depression. But I did not believe that. I thought if we could heal Hsu Yin’s body, her mind too would heal over time.

  “After Naaya was killed, I searched for the elixir. There were clues that Naaya had left—in her drawings and writings—but it took me a long time to decipher them all. By then, it was too late. Hsu Yin died a few years after Naaya was killed. Before she died, she gave birth to our baby girl, Hsu Jen.”

  “You had a daughter?” Georgia says, surprised.

  “Yes.” Charlie smiles, his face lighting up in the dimming light. “Oh she was beautiful, Georgia. She was kind, just like her mother had been. She was strong-willed, smart, so curious all the time.” He pauses, turning to look at Georgia thoughtfully. Then, his voice soft, he continues, “For a long time, I kept searching for the elixir. Every day, my daughter grew and changed. Every day, I remained the same. I was constantly terrified of losing her. I had watched my son die, clutched his small, lifeless body against my chest and howled and sobbed until there were no more tears left in my body. I could not imagine doing the same with Hsu Jen. I could not go through the agony of watching my child die again.

  “But the secret of the elixir was lost when Naaya died. And as Hsu Jen grew up, she began to see my desperation for the elixir. My daughter… in so many ways, she was a much wiser person than I was. Hsu Jen was a deeply spiritual person. It was she who encouraged me to ground myself in meaning, learning, and spirituality. She saw that this was the only way I could live with my condition.”

  “Your condition?” Georgia asks, puzzled.

  His response is a sardonic smile. “On the surface, immortality may look like a desirable thing. But I assure you, Georgia, it comes with a price.

  “Even as I was searching for the elixir, Hsu Jen saw this truth. She told me she did not want to live forever, that the most revered masters and teachers had taught about the impermanence in our world, and it is because of this that we suffer. It is also why we must learn to not cling on to what is never meant to be forever. Of course, at the time, I could not understand her, or even hear what she was saying to me.

  “I began taking long journeys away from Japan for my search, looking for where Naaya had come from. I knew it was where I would find the elixir. I visited every island I could find south of Shingu. I was away on one of these voyages when Hsu Jen died at home, in Japan.”

  Charlie sighs. “All that time I was away, searching for something to make our relationship permanent, and I did not realise I had neglected to make the most out of the precious little time that we actually had together. It is the ultimate irony, is it not? But that is exactly what we all do. We spend our time trying to obtain what we do not have, and forget to cherish what is right before us.” He shakes his head.

  Georgia sees the sadness in Charlie’s eyes, and she feels an ache rise within her chest. The sentiment feels all too familiar. They drive on in silence, taking the next exit off the freeway. From here, they will have to travel via meandering country roads up into the mountains.

  A questions floats around in her mind, and she takes the opportunity to voice it. “What is the elixir?”

  “Ah,” Charlie says, his jade green eyes twinkling at her in the fading light. “See, this is why I came searching for you.”

  39

  The announcement for boarding flight EV203 for Melbourne issues from the airport intercom, and for the fifth time that minute, Ethan stares at the phone screen.

  Nothing.

  No messages, no missed calls. Ethan frowns, unsure if he should be worried or pissed. He racks his brain, going through every detail of all that happened before they said goodbye at the hotel this morning. He kissed her goodbye, held her in his arms. He asked to see her after his lunch meeting, and she said yes.

  Georgia did say yes, right?

  She did, he’s positive she did. He thinks back to the smile she gave him as he left the hotel room. That radiant smile… it made his knees go weak. It held promises. Hell, it damn well nearly made Ethan cancel his lunch to spend the rest of the day in bed with her. In the light of that smile, it makes no sense at all that Georgia would not show up as agreed. It also makes no sense that her phone has been switched off ever since, and that she hasn’t returned any of his messages.

  Ethan watches the queue of passengers gradually disappear through the boarding gate, wondering what to do. He really needs to get on this plane. There are a million overdue things waiting for him to attend to back at the museum. The Tang Dynasty show is the biggest Asian collection NGV has ever exhibited, and it’s either going to make or break his career. But how can he leave Taipei now, when he has no clue where Georgia is?

  What if she’s hurt? What if she needs him?

  Something’s not right. Ethan feels it in the seat of his gut, gnawing at him with no reprieve.

  He tries her number again, growling with frustration at the voice mail greeting he has by now memorised.

  “Hi, this is Georgia,” her voice says brightly on the line. “Please leave me a message...”

  Hanging up, Ethan taps his phone on his hand. A thought suddenly washes over him like a sheet of ice, making his chest constrict with pain. Think about it, dumbarse. Georgia’s most likely not missing. She’s probably avoiding you, just like last time.

  “This is the final boarding call for flight EV203 bound for Melbourne,” the ground staff announces. “All remaining passengers please go to gate D13 immediately.”

  He quickly types out one final message. Call me. Please.

  As Ethan walks towards the gate and hands over the necessary documents for boarding, he can’t shake the fear that he may have lost her again, perhaps for good this time.

  40

  “Before I explain the elixir,” Charlie begins, “I have to tell you about Naaya.”

  He senses Georgia sitting up a little straighter, giving him her full attention.

  “Naaya was of Austronesian descent,” Charlie explains. “Her people lived on a land several weeks’ journey south of Japan. Her father was the village shaman, and had mastered the use of herbs for healing. Naaya told me once that when she saw me collecting herbs in the forest, she was reminded of him. I suppose that may have been the reason that compelled her to save me.

  “Naaya loved to help her father with his work, and she dreamed of one day becoming a healer too. He trained her to identify plants and would often send her out to collect the medicines he needed. One day, while she was searching in the forest, she came upon a pool of water in a cave. She drank from it, and when she eventually realised its healing powers, she went back to her father and told him of her discovery. They began to collect the water to cure all sorts of ailments for the villagers, until they realised those who drank from it neither aged nor died. The cave became hallowed ground, and her people went there regularly to worship its sacred waters. They believed the magical pool was a gift from the revered and powerful mountain god, Zai.

  “After a while, though, Naaya began to notice a change in her people as they lived on through the decades. The initial euphoria of becoming immortal eventually wore off. Gradually and steadily, people became despondent.”

  “Despondent?” Georgia asks, bemused.

  He nods. “Imagine, Georgia, if you knew you had eternity ahead of you, that over time you could achieve everything you’ve ever dreamed of. What would you do with your time?”

  “I’d do everything,” she responds without hesitation. “Travel to all the places I’ve always wanted to visit. Learn free diving. Study neuroscience. Take all the drugs I’ve been curious about trying.”

  He laughs softly. “Would you really? Or would you end up doing nothin
g, because you knew you had all the time in the world?” He glances at her to see her frowning at the idea. “The things you described are actually a bucket list; it is what people do if they find out that they are dying, not if they think they are to live forever.”

  As she ponders on the thought, Charlie continues, “In all my years, I have come to realise that what makes human life precious and magical is ironically its fleeting nature. When you think about it, it is surprising how much death drives all that we strive for in life. It is the knowledge of an imminent deadline that motivates us to actually do the things that we have hoped for in our lives. It is also what makes us search for meaning in our seemingly minuscule existence. Everything—technology, art, literature, music—civilisation as we know it has been a product of human beings’ desire for significance and importance. Death being a certainty makes people live. It makes us want to create a legacy for ourselves. I would wager that without it, we would not have Beethoven’s symphonies, nor Monet’s lily ponds, and certainly no pyramids or missions to the moon.”

  Charlie pauses, looking out into the night with his hands resting on the steering wheel. The roads are deserted at this hour in this remote part of Taiwan, and he is relieved to know for certain that they have lost the men who were pursuing them. He has not seen any other cars on the road for almost half an hour now. Making a turn as they come to a crossing, he takes the road that heads up into the mountains. He turns on the fog lights as they leave the illuminated streets behind.

  “That is essentially what happened to Naaya’s people,” he explains as Georgia listens quietly. “They became miserable, depressed, and bored. Being drowned in that overwhelming sense of futility is a most dreadful thing. To have nothing to want for can make a person lose all of their hope in life.