by Jeremy Han
Slowly, as he grew in experience, he had started to look for bigger ones, but his new found friends drove his human ones away. Once he had brought a snake back to show his friends, but they had run away and threw stones at him when he tried to follow. They called him a witch.
His stepfather had thrashed him when he saw the reptile in the house and swore that he would kill Yin if he ever took another snake home. Then he proceeded to get drunk on rice wine before raping the helpless boy, all the while swearing at him, calling him a yin-yang ren ‘hermaphrodite’. It was had been so painful that he could not walk straight for the next few days. He could not understand why the only adult he had in his life hated him so much, and the anguish strengthened his bonds with the snakes. He had even started to talk to them. They were the only ones who accepted him, who understood how it felt to be alone and hated.
One day he had seen a pack of wild dogs surround a blackish brown snake. The serpent tried to get away, its undulating muscular body swerving away from the dogs to no avail. It was not a huge reptile and the dogs clearly had the numerical advantage. The canines were barking aggressively, thinking they had cornered the reptile but instead of running away, the creature reared majestically. Slowly its head expanded into a hood, and almost too fast to see it struck at the nearest dog. The animal jumped with a yelp before it backed away. Another dog growled and attacked and the snake moved like lightning, body leaving the ground in a blur before it struck again. There was another yelp and soon the pack got the message and they dispersed. The two canines that the cobra had struck started to groan in pain, soon they were convulsing, one of them frothed, and both of them died painfully. The snake slithered away into the bushes unscathed. Yin later learnt that the locals called this snake the fanchantou.
Yin was mesmerised. The snake’s defiance against its tormentors had struck a chord in him.
The weak could overcome the strong!
He started to look for the fanchantou and eventually he found it. Somehow, he could coax the venomous animal to relax with him. He was no threat, he was a friend. He was someone who understood what it was like to be misunderstood, whose true nature others could not accept. He spent hours observing the creature, studying its graceful movements, how it struck mercilessly and how it had no fear when it fought. He had admired it, worshipped it. Yin kept it and fed it, nurturing the cobra for his own dream, his fantasy, and his deliverance, and one day he took the fanchantou home.
Home was a dilapidated shack by the edge of the rice fields. It was the rice harvesting season and Yin knew his stepfather would come home drunk and rape him again. It had been that way for years now and he knew it would happen, but this year was going to different. The day before the dour, sullen man had pulled the poor boy roughly. He scrutinised him with hooded eyes that conveyed nothing but contempt before he had opened his stinking mouth to speak.
“You want to know why I hate you? Because you are a bastard child,” he spat. “Your mother had you with someone else and dumped you with me! I never got the chance to kill that bitch.” His look turned evil and Yin thought he was going to be struck. He sneered back instead. “Each time I screwed you, I imagined it was her. Your mother.” The child listened without expression. “But you know what? You are wasting my rice. It’s time you repay me for taking care of you all these years.”
Taking care of me?
“Tomorrow I will sell you away to become a eunuch. Hell, you don’t look like a man anyway,” he scoffed. “You’ll fetch a good price.” He spoke the words easily as he rose on his unsteady feet, leaving Yin alone again.
The words had hit him like a physical blow. My mother abandoned me, I never knew my real father, my step-father hates me and now... he wants to sell me away.
Something snapped inside him. Whenever he had been abused he had felt that anguish deep in his soul, aching long after his body had grown used to the pain. Sometimes, the agony informed him he was still alive. This time though... this time he felt nothing. There was a void in his spirit as he finally came to terms with being abandoned again and suddenly everything became clear.
He was prepared this time. As the villagers celebrated with loud singing and feasting, Yin had stayed at home – he was not welcomed by the villagers anyway. He waited with an old leather bag by his side, occasionally moving against him. He sat in silence and darkness, as he had through all the years of his childhood, waiting, trembling as he anticipated the abuse to begin. That night however, he had felt calm. He felt a slight movement in the bag and he touched it lovingly – my friend, my only true friend.
There was a creak as the old wooden door opened. The familiar, evil shape of his stepfather filled the door frame. The man reeked of rice wine as he staggered toward the area where Yin laid. He said something dirty and laughed, calling his stepson a fair-skin whore, announcing his intention to sodomise him as a way to celebrate the new season.
“Come ‘er!” he laughed, pulling Yin roughly closer.
He took the abuse in silence, merely staring at the wall as the man pounded away, grunting in his pleasure as he raped the substitute of his unfaithful wife. Yin’s mind was calculating the steps he need to take in killing the man. First, I need to….next, I will…. The man gasped as he finished, roughly shoving the boy away before he crashed onto the bed fast asleep.
Good.
Yin looked at the sleeping man with no emotion. Rising, he went over and opened the rice urn, emptying the leather bag inside. He sat awake the whole night, eagerly anticipating the morning and the sunrise that would herald his freedom. Over the horizon a sliver of light poked through a curtain of darkness, and slowly the orange light of the rising sun crept into the shack. A rooster’s crow split the air, dutifully informed the village that it was time to wake. His step-father groaned as he got up, trained by years of habit to rise at dawn. It had made him predictable, and he soon began his usual morning routine.
He would cook breakfast next.
The man shuffled over. Usually he would cook breakfast for the two of them, but that day he had said gruffly, “No breakfast for you. I’ll sell you away later anyway, so why feed someone else’s property?” Yin looked at him without any expression. He heard a faint thump coming from the rice urn, and his stepfather cursed through a dry throat.
“Must be damned rats.”
Yes, open the rice urn, Yin silently urged, heart racing in anticipation.
Thump.
“Bloody rats. Wait till I catch you,” he muttered.
The man opened the rice container and reached into it. He felt something scaly, cold, muscular and angry, and it took a moment for the man to register what he had grabbed.
HSSSSSSST!
There was a loud hissing sound like someone trying to clear his nose as the cobra lunged out of the urn and bit without mercy.
“AAAAGGGHHHHHH!”
The man screamed as he tried to shake the snake off but the reptile held on. He grabbed at the twisting body of the cobra and pulled, momentarily releasing the snake’s hold beofer it struck again, injecting another lethal dose of venom into the man’s racing bloodstream. He pulled at it again, and finally he managed to throw the snake off, slithering away to a corner. Even Yin did not approach the snake right away. He knew the cobra was incensed and needed time to calm lest it strike at Yin, but it was fine. It had done its job, and Yin could wait.
“Help....me....!” the man who had abused him for years croaked. He was weakening from the venom, his breathing growing increasingly laboured, as he stretched out a hand to his stepson. Yin looked down at him with eyes as cold as the cobra who had bit him. Strangely he felt nothing. No malice, no anger, no hatred for his tormentor – just a calm curiosity.
How will you die? Will you perish like those two pariah dogs? Convulsing and shitting yourself senseless?
He watched the man foam and thrash as the venom destroyed his nervous system and shut down his heart. Yin’s heart had become as cold as a snake’s and he noted with a detached,
clinical satisfaction that his tormentor was finally dead. The deceased man stared with unseeing eyes at the boy, not registering that for the first time in many years that the boy smiled.
He had burnt down the shack and left the village. The villagers would later attribute it to an accident brought about by drunkenness and no one even noticed the odd child had disappeared. With nowhere to go Yin had wandered from town to town, but with the fanchantou he was neither lonely nor afraid. One day while he was traveling he had seen a row of boys being inspected by a man. The man selected those he wanted, and they followed him. Out of curiosity Yin had trailed him.
“Who are you?” the man asked when he saw the slender looking, fair-skinned boy with longish hair. He had thought Yin was a girl.
“I’m hungry,” Yin had replied.
The man scrutinised him and finally exclaimed with surprise, “You’re a boy!?”
Yin nodded.
“Come,” the man had beckoned him, and smiling in a way that made him uncomfortable.
“Do you want to have all the food you can eat and never go hungry again?”
“Yes!” What did I have to lose?
The man had sold Yin into imperial servitude as a eunuch, and with the removal of his genitals Yin’s transformation into an androgynous creature was complete. Soon he was thrust into the grey world of imperial slavery, but he was not afraid. He no longer felt anything in his heart and he did whatever he was asked to do, keeping to himself. However, his numbness had not helped him to escape the routine beatings he received from the senior eunuchs though this time, Yin was no longer a helpless child.
One moonless night he had followed the eunuch who had excessively beaten him along with a few other men, and had released the fanchantou into the man’s room. There was a loud scream of fear and pain and it brought a smile to Yin’s face as he contemplated the man’s agony and impending death. In his excitement, he had not noticed that someone had been watching him. As he picked up his snake he felt a jolt of fear rush through him as the witness came forward. Yin was prepared to kill him as well by throwing the cobra at him, but the man’s words had surprised him.
“I admire what you did.”
“Why?” Yin answered suspiciously.
“You did not let anyone step on you. You have pride, and courage, lots of it.” The man took a step closer.
Yin retreated. What does he want? Yin never trusted anyone. The only living thing he trusted anymore was his snake.
“You are afraid I will tell them what you’ve done,” the man said, turning and looking up at the sky with nonchalance. They looked like two people having an evening chat about the moon which was bright and full, a silent witness to their conversation. “Rest assure I won’t.”
“Why?” Yin demanded.
Slowly the man turned and faced Yin again, and the moonlight revealed Kong Wei’s features. “Because I have need for someone with your...talents,” he said.
Yin’s eyes narrowed like the cobra in his hand. “And if I don’t, you will report me?”
Kong gave a shocked look. “No...no. Why would I do that? You’ll just continue to be a servant in the palace that’s all. It means nothing to me if you want to live this kind of life.”
“What do you have in mind?” Yin pressed.
Kong Wei looked straight into his eyes. “I need an assassin.”
That was so many years ago, Yin mused as he recalled the night he had met Kong. Back then he did not know who the man was. All he had seen was an offer out of a miserable existence and he had taken it. Apparently Kong had the authority to make a eunuch disappear, and Yin was secreted away from the palace. They took him to an unidentified place and trained him hard. When asked what kind of martial arts Yin wanted to learn he had said without hesitation, “Snake Fist.”
The Snake Fist emphasised fluidity and sudden sharp deadly strikes against softer vital areas. Like the serpent, power was generated with the twisting of the lower body. It did not require great muscles to generate deadly force and soon he could strike several times within a second. By then Yin embodied the cobra’s movements and habits as he excelled in the deadly martial art. It was almost as though the fanchantou and he had become one.
The years blurred, and the missions accumulated. Kong called him ‘Yin’, and Yin knew another assassin that he called ‘Yang’, his universal opposite. Yin represented darkness and negativity. He fought with the fluid speed and deceptiveness of a cobra and had also learnt how to use poison. Yang was ‘male’ and his martial arts were hard and relied on the great strength generated by his powerful physique. Yin the slender, gentle-featured hermaphrodite killer no longer thought of himself as male or female. He was just…Yin – the dark force of the universe.
So long ago…he thought. Nature interrupted his thoughts as the rumble of distant thunder rolled across the purplish, cloud-laden sky. A strong breeze rustled the leaves and Yin looked up just in time for a flash of lightning to illuminate the assassin’s pale face, half covered by long, flowing black hair. This time the thunder sounded like an impatient god shouting before the sound of rain drowned out his thoughts as water pounded the broken tiled roof. A few droplets of water touched Yin’s face as the storm unleashed its anger and he heard the fanchantou hiss angrily at the myriad of sounds flooding its sensitive hearing.
It’s time.
Yin gently picked up the cobra and put it into the well-used leather bag. He cooed as though he was talking to a baby, and the snake dropped into the bag without resistance. Yin rose, his eyes were as cold and emotionless as the snake in the bag as he left the safe house. He stood by the door and took a deep, silent breath. Autumn is coming. The wet air was chilly as a breeze lifted Yin’s long, soft hair. He allowed it to caress his face, and then he stepped into the darkness alone, disappearing into the blinding rain.
Yin’s master Kong had sent word that he wanted someone dead.
And so it shall be.
23
The beggar woke up with a start. The vagrant knew the sounds of the night, keenly aware which signalled hostility and which were simply routine. His life depended on such knowledge. This was a crude industrial area, and the street was crowded with things of industry. Large sheets of leather hung across sturdy poles, and the stench of the urine used to cure the skins filled the place. Another factory had large vats of dye with silk soaking inside that took up almost half the street. This place was a cover for the Dangs ‘the triads’, the criminal underworld. The rough men who worked here in the day also committed crimes by night.
The beggar rose and walked on in search of what had woken him, avoiding the obstacles in his path. It was obvious that he knew where he was going as he stepped over a puddle of stinking water and continued deeper into the darkness. His job was to make sure no one entered the industrial maze without being watched, and every day two meals ensured this loyal service. He had become a part of the landscape and people no longer noticed him. The tramp banked on his invisibility to do his job, and he slunk away into the bowels of the place to get ahead of the man, to keep spying on him.
He had seen this huge man before, and had heard through the grapevine that the giant was a killer, coming to the area to look for men to hire. For what, he did not know, but since he was not part of the dangs he must be watched.
Unbeknownst to the beggar, Yang was aware that he was being spied upon. He had come to this part of the city before to speak with a few of the gang heads, but tonight he was back for another reason. He needed information on something that could potentially endanger his plans.
He continued deeper into the alleyway until he passed by a large kiln. The workers had stacked rows of brown earthen urns with dragon motifs outside the factory, awaiting delivery tomorrow. The assassin took a quick glance before he stepped across a puddle of foul liquid and hid behind the urns, remaining motionless as even his breathing slowed, merging himself with the shadows.
The beggar shuffled along, trying to keep track of his target. He h
ad followed the path the huge man took until he came to the kiln, pausing as he listened for movement, but there was none. He sniffed, detecting nothing but the mixture of smoke and urine in the air before he swallowed hard.
He could not lose track of this intruder. If someone who did not belong had entered the secret realm of the bandits without his knowledge, his master would hold him responsible, and a terrible fate would await him. He was trying to gather his thoughts, looking to pick up the trail again when a powerful hand grabbed him from behind. Hands moved expertly, locking his bony arm behind his back. He wanted to yelp, but a huge hand clamped his mouth.
“Shut your mouth, if you want to live,” Yang whispered behind him.
The beggar nodded vigorously.
“I will give you a piece of silver if you tell me what I need to know.”
A piece of silver! The man nodded again.
“Who was the man who came asking about me yesterday?”
Yang lifted his hand, and through his rotting teeth the beggar replied breathlessly, “He is a secret agent from the court.”
“Not from the magistrate’s office?” Yang asked, trying to keep the surprise in his voice down.
“No.”
“You are sure?”
The vagabond nodded and Yang was glad he did not speak. Even though he was behind the man the beggar’s breath was so foul he could smell it.
“How do you know?” the assassin hissed.
“If he is not, he would not have made it out alive!” the beggar rasped.
“So why did your boss let him go?”
“Why? Because he is from the Dong Chang!” the tramp exclaimed. He sounded as though the Eastern Depot was a nightmare. “If that man dies you can be sure all of us will join him in hell before the week is over! Moreover, he alone took out five men effortlessly before he got in. Such men are dangerous!”
Yang reflected on the news. The Eastern Depot! So the imperial court suspects.
“What did he ask about me?”
