by Sean Stewart
Uncle Lui left Jen’s mother two years later. He said he had found love with a girl in a fish-seller’s shop.
Uncle Chan used to knock his mother around, but surprisingly, in later years, it is Uncle Lui Jen will fantasize about beating. A frightening number of times he has twirled his nunchuks and imagined whipping them across Uncle Lui’s smiling face. Blood squirting. Shattering the little white teeth.
But now he is ten. He is a pacifist. He understands his mother’s loneliness better than Uncle Lui does. Better than she does herself. So for four years he sits very still and says nothing to defend her from Uncle Lui’s sarcasm. Not because he is a coward. Because he is brave.
There are three of them he can remember well, Uncle Chan, Uncle Lui, and Uncle Huang.
They are not really his uncles.
Uncle Chan has a round head and a big laugh and often smells of wine. He lives with them for two years when Jen is six and seven. He has hair all over his body. He shaves his face twice every day with a straight razor, leaving coarse black bristles in the sink. Jen does not like the sour man-smell Uncle Chan leaves on the towels.
Uncle Chan is quite a sentimental drunk. The times that he beats Jen’s mother he is completely sober. At first he does not touch Jen. But after they have been living together for more than a year, he begins to spank him for his misdeeds. When Jen breaks a jade amulet he has been told several times not to play with, Uncle Chan beats him with the leather razor strop.
This turns out to be the end of their time with Uncle Chan. Jen’s mother had tolerated being hit herself, but when Uncle tells her he has been forced to whip Jen with the leather strop, she throws him out of the house. The parting is very angry. Uncle Chan warns Jen’s mother that he was her only chance for respectability. Without him, she will become a whore and Jen will grow into a whore’s son and a thug. She spits at him.
When it is over she kneels before her son and takes his face in her hands and promises she will never let anyone hit him again. And Jen’s mother, who will pay for the broken jade amulet with years of bitter loneliness, kisses him gently on the forehead, as if she were the one who had failed. As if she does not realize that Jen is to blame for everything.
Three years later she meets Uncle Lui. From him Jen learns to joke. He brags to other boys about the sharp deals Uncle Lui has made and retells his jokes and ignores him mostly and despises him sometimes.
Jen is quite a loner during this time. Other kids his age seem to work on very simple principles: they like or dislike, love or hate. Their friends are wonderful, their enemies dirt. It all seems very simple.
Not having any friends, Jen finds his reactions more complex. He finds it easy to admire his enemies’ strength or daring, even if he thinks them stupid and vindictive. He is grateful to those kids who are friendly to him but he never forgets their limitations. He is physically small but he is funny and that is enough to get by. The only common thread in his feelings about other people is that aside from his mother he knows no one he respects.
Uncle Huang is different. He is an important man in the Mandarinate. He does not move in with them. For a while Jen thinks they will go to his house, which is certain to be very grand. This does not happen. Instead, Uncle Huang visits once or twice a week. He almost never stays the night, but Jen, who is now seventeen and old enough to be tactful, makes sure to be out on the evenings Uncle Huang is due to visit.
He catches them at it once, accidentally, coming back from a night of smoking marijuana and drinking cheap plum wine. His mother’s bed is behind a screen in the living room. He stumbles in, worried in a drunken way about the noises coming from behind the screen. For some reason he becomes convinced there is a raccoon in his mother’s bed.
A comical interlude ensues.
The one time they talk about it, afterwards, even his mother thinks it funny, though she does ask him, exasperated, how he thought a raccoon had made it to the third floor. After that he always stops at the apartment door and listens for the squeaking bed.
Uncle Huang leaves presents. These make Jen’s mother very sad. Jen asks her why. His mother does not answer him directly. “What do you think of Uncle Huang?” she says.
He shrugs. “He’s okay, I guess.”
“Yes.” She looks at her son with a sad smile. Sad. Not weak, never that. “Exactly.” She fingers the little jade ring the Minister left for her the night before. “Jen, are you ashamed of me?”
“Never think that.”
“I do sometimes.” She puts the ring down on the table. “I want you to be married, you know. I am not one of those mothers who tries to eat her son. Any girl you like well enough to marry will be good enough for me.”
“Ma, I’m seventeen.”
“Are you having sex?”
“Ma!”
“If you are old enough to be a father, you are old enough to be married,” she says drily. “Remember that. You just rent your heart to a lover, boy of mine. Your child owns it.”
He is too old for the two of them to hug, so he makes her tea instead.
It is through Huang that Jen’s mother met Water Spider. By this time something has changed in his mother’s heart. He knows she will not be living with another man. Not while he is still at home. This is one of the reasons he moves out. Besides, his night life is getting pretty wild; it is time for him to move on. Six months later, his best friends are dead. Went to rob a wine store for the hell of it and got shot through the head by an owner with no sense of humor and an ancient .32 automatic. Two weeks later Jen is working for Water Spider.
It is from Water Spider he learns that Uncle Huang is the Minister for Interior, and a married man. He had started coming to Jen’s mother after his first child had been born deaf and blind. The visits stopped two years later, after his wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy.
To put it in the worst light, his mother had been taking money to sleep with a married man. When Water Spider tells him, Jen stands silent for a long moment, afraid that he will break his promise and feel ashamed of her. To his intense relief, this does not happen. He feels sad for her, yes, and that hurts. But ashamed? No. Never that. He knows her too well.
Water Spider was not inconsiderate. “Truth is hard, but it lasts,” he had said.
The prick.
Creak, creak. Creak, creak.
Don’t listen don’t listen don’t listen don’t listen.
Right cross / stomp to knee / left kick at hip. Now he is a grown man and his sweat smells sour, like Uncle Chan’s.
Grab / spin / hold elbow: snap!
—But the imaginary arm between his hands bends before he can bring his elbow down to break it. A hip curls into his belly, his arms jerk, he shoots around an invisible pivot and slams into the hardwood floor.
There’s a knee on his throat, his legs whip up and wrap around her neck and he arches. Dragging her off his chest, he rolls sideways and comes up in the cat stance, breathing hard.
He can’t see her but he can smell her hair.
The floorboard squeaks a warning, he hops back as a foot flashes in a sweep kick below him. He snaps out with a quick kick of his own, feels his foot connect, a glancing blow.
Red silk flowers in the air and vanishes.
Then it’s a side kick to the stomach and he doubles over, whooping. He knows better than to hold her foot but he coils down, one arm under her ankle, his other elbow pressing down at the knee, it can’t help but bend. She doesn’t even try to stop the fall, just lets it happen, lets his turn torque her body so her other heel comes hard for his head but he knows that one, he broke seven teeth for a fucker under the Main Street Skytrain station with that one. He pulls his head back until her foot is by and then drives forward so now she’s flat on her stomach on the floor with him on top, pinning her arms beneath her, his hips against her hard ass, his head in the crook of her neck, it’s covered with sweat, her straight black hair in his mouth, the smell of it like flowers and cordite.
“Who the fuck are
you?”
She squirms underneath him until she is lying on her back and says, “Your luck, fool.”
She looks at him as if she owns him. Lazy pleasure at the corners of her mouth. Her look opens his heart like a door and walks in. She is evil. Her arms like creepers wind around his neck. She drags him down to her mouth. It tastes of blood. He has never feared anything as he fears her. He has never desired anyone as he desires her.
She lets him go. He gasps.
She laughs and says, “Every woman hides herself in a different part of her body.”
Then he sees Uncle Chan’s razor in her hand. She snaps it open like a flick-knife, faster than he can follow, and slashes down his cheek. Blood flies over them both. It drips onto the skin of her neck and the top of her breasts, mixing with her sweat.
He rapes her, crying. The floorboards crack and squeak beneath them like a rickety bed.
Afterwards, she takes the razor and shaves the hair roughly from his head, leaving his scalp a lace of blood. Then she cuts away his mustache. Then his eyebrows. Then the hair on his breast and belly. When he is as smooth as a boy, she licks the blood from his face and offers him the razor.
He refuses.
Across the hall, Shouter and Shrieker are quarrelling again. A baby sobs in the next apartment. Rain gusts and sighs outside, running down the windows of New Moon Manor like tears from a sky that will never stop crying.
Chapter
Thirteen
Water Spider was alone in the Scholars Quarters, a chamber empty save for two stone benches. He had pulled open its sliding doors and sat gazing into the cobbled courtyard. It was deep in the night, and pouring rain. Wind shook the curtain of water dripping from the porch. He listened to the rain falling, falling.
A message had come from Raining Chiu that the Southsiders had killed Li Bing. In the Phoenix, Li Mei and Emily Thompson were not responding to radio hails. In the midst of this chaos the Lidded Eye had requested his resignation. He had given it. He was no longer the Honorable Minister for Borders. He could do nothing now but wait for Jen and Claire and Pearl to return.
He often came here to meditate. He liked the chamber’s emptiness and its strong bones, the pillars of nan wood polished and painted with cinnabar lacquer. Glassless apertures in the walls framed the Three Friends: pine, bamboo, and winter-flowering plum, whose blossoms now lay scattered and drowning on the cobbles outside like the intentions of youth.
Men were afraid of the outside. How much it hurt their pride to think they were part of the world only as the otter was, or the pine bough, or the drop of rain! So they retreated Inside. Inside cities, homes, palaces; drawing back into a world small enough that they could matter. But through all the long years of history, sages had lived apart from this peopled world. The wise man in his mountain cave felt the hard stone beneath his feet; felt the cold wind on his face. He did not delude himself. He did not make himself large by shrinking the world around him.
Water Spider found he was shivering in the damp chill. He remained still, letting the shivers pass through him like gusts of wind. This bare stone room, into which the darkness rushed through open doors, was his cave in the mountains. His task was to hold his spirit upright in it, clear as a candle’s flame. Clear as a lantern in the night.
A knock came at the side door, and his prostitute ran in. “Jen is trapped at my apartment. You have to get him back.”
“Pearl!” Water Spider leapt up. The Southsider, Claire, followed Pearl into the room.
“I wanted to go back, but this Snow wouldn’t let me,” Pearl said. She spoke Cantonese, ignoring Claire. “Maybe I would be no use there, okay. But you must get Jen.”
“What happened?”
“The gargoyles came first,” Pearl said. “Squatting on the rooftop as if to take a shit.”
In English, Claire said, “We went upstairs and got your—Jen’s mother. On our way back there was a demon waiting for us. I shot him five times, but all that did was blow the glass out of the front door. Jen yelled at us to run out the back way. He said he would give us cover. A gust of air came through the smashed doorway and his sword faded in a little puff, like a cloud.”
“You should not have sent him for me,” Pearl said.
Rain fell in the Scholars Courtyard. Water Spider stood and kissed Pearl lightly on the forehead. “That may have been the only honorable decision I have made this cursed night. It was the right thing to do. But it means that now I face another task.” In English he said, “Claire, leave us please. I wish to speak to Pearl alone. I will see you in my office shortly.”
Claire nodded and withdrew.
“This is not the time for talk, Minister. My son is trapped in a gargoyle house. You must rescue him.”
“Marry me.”
“What!”
“Marry me.” Water Spider took Pearl’s hand. “Have no fears about Jen. I will get him back, I promise you.”
“He’s a good boy.”
“He is,” Water Spider said gently. “Tonight, when I found you were in danger, it was as lightning to me. In that fierce white instant I saw how arrogant I had been. Marry me, Pearl. I was a fool to snatch a cup of tea with you once a week. You are worth so much more than that.” Her hand in his was strong, no girl’s soft damp clasp. Her hair was pulled tightly back and fixed with a tortoiseshell comb, leaving plain her wide forehead, her thick brows and the strong bones under her eyes. No Sung beauty; and yet how much more real than those poetical ladies. “I am a connoisseur. I want to savor you. Marry me.”
She said, “My name is not Pearl.”
“What?”
“It’s not Pearl. This is your pet name for me. It is not my name. My name is Po Yin.”
“That is a lovely name too,” he said. He held her hand more tightly. In the weak yellow lamplight he saw she was weeping. He brushed a tear from her cheek.
“Don’t do this, Minister. It is cruel. Your dignity could never allow you to marry a woman like me. You have a position, appearances. An honorable family.”
“My father was the most famous coward of 2004,” Water Spider said softly. “I have been a coward too, I know. No longer. I want you for my wife. I have no wish to wed the gossips of the court or the Honorable Minister in Charge of Ministers. Yours is the only censure I will fear. Pearl, do not cry.”
She wiped away her tears and said, “These are not for you.”
He flinched and drew back his hand.
“Look at you.” Pearl drew in a long, shaking breath. “Look at you! Even now you cannot imagine I will refuse. Well then, Minister, let me speak more plainly. I will never marry the man who took me for his whore. Do you understand, you pompous prick?” Her voice rang in the Scholars Courtyard. “Who else could use a woman like a whore and then expect to be loved for it! Not even the Very Honorable Minister for Borders may do that. And yet you have the arrogance to stand here, expecting me to throw myself into your arms, while my son may be dying. He is your man. Throw me over, throw me out, now that you have forced me to say these things—but remember what you owe him.”
Water Spider felt his face go numb. His chest was a wooden box. He bowed and said, “I never forget my debts.”
Pearl covered her mouth with her hands. “I am sorry. Forgive me. I should not have spoken so.” Not because you have hurt me, Water Spider thought. Only because you might have injured your son. Isn’t that right, Pearl? Not Pearl. Po Yin.
At that moment it struck him with terrible force that each man is born alone and dies alone; in between we are candles in the storm, that burn singly and singly gutter and go out. “I never knew you,” he said.
He turned to leave. “Minister?” she said from behind him. He looked back. Pearl’s wide face was weary. “You are not a bad man.”
“Merely arrogant and obtuse.”
“Only a little.”
His heart twisted at her tired smile.
Claire was waiting in his office. So was his missing subaltern, Li Mei. “At last!” He
strode quickly across the room and gripped her by the shoulders. “Where is Emily Thompson?” he demanded in Cantonese. “Quickly!”
“I do not know,” Li Mei said.
“What!”
“I do not know. I set Emily Thompson down some distance from here, and left immediately. She did not wish to be found.”
“I heard Emily’s name,” Claire said in English. “Is she here? Where is she? I want to see her.”
“Please accept my resignation,” Li Mei said, ignoring Claire and continuing to speak to Water Spider. “I acted entirely on my own, with neither the knowledge nor the consent of yourself or my mother. I am prepared to swear this at any inquiry, or to the Southsiders.” Her mouth quirked in a brief smile. “I believe I was destined to design dresses after all.”
Water Spider looked steadily at her. Li Mei faltered, and began to flush.
“What’s going on?” Claire said. “Where is Emily?”
Water Spider switched to English. “I am afraid I am unable to accept your resignation, Li Mei.”
“I—I did not imagine there was a chance my career could be saved. Surely the Southsiders will demand my resignation?”
“I am no longer the Minister for Borders. The Honorable Minister in Charge of Ministers retired me at two-thirty this morning. You are an hour late. Your resignation, though utterly appropriate, will have to be offered to someone else. Wei Lin, probably. Or possibly Wan Chu. A good man.”
Li Mei sat down heavily. “Oh no. Not you,” she whispered. “I…How could the Lidded Eye ask that of you! How could she throw away her most able Minister at such a time? It is outrageous! I took every precaution to ensure you could not be connected with my decision. I answered no radio hails, left no messages…” Li Mei looked up, eyes widening. “The Lidded Eye cannot think my mother was involved. Above all things, no one must think she was to blame.”
“Li Mei—”
“I will take all dishonor upon myself. I understand this. But my mother is guiltless. If she has shame to bear, it is only for conceiving me. The Heavens know that will be enough.”
