by Jeremy Han
Tu spun a back kick and it hit a pillar just a split second after Lu had moved his body out of the path of the attack. Lu counter-attacked with his sword, but Tu had run away. He tried to escape but the door was blocked by Li again, who had recovered from the shattering body slam. Instead of swinging the sickle, which required distance but the room was too small, he used the curved blade as a hand weapon. He immediately closed in thereby denying the height advantage Tu had. It became a close-quarter fight which the tall man was immediately disadvantaged. He retreated as Li followed, slashing viciously with the sickle. The blade cut his hands as he tried to block, but he ran out of space and hit the wall. He was pinned.
Lu joined in the attack against the trapped man, stabbing repeatedly. Tu rolled to the side and grabbed Lu’s wrist, flinging the sword towards Li. When Li retreated, he elbowed Lu hard, but Lu was equally fast, he punched Tu viciously and both took a few steps back. Before Tu could breath, he ducked as the flying sickle destroyed the window. He grabbed the chain and yanked Li towards him. Li hurtled forward, but he was prepared; he blocked Tu’s massive fist plunging towards his face. Then without any signal Tu spun around to face the peril posed by the Lu. He side-stepped and launched a kick at Lu’s face, which the man blocked expertly. Tu improvised his attack. Once his leg landed, he charged and shoulder tackled Lu. The smaller man fell with a grunt.
Tu grabbed a wooden bench and raised it over his head, ready to bash Lu’s head in, but he felt the bench forcefully jerk out of his hand. The chain-sickle again; Tu turned and faced the attacker. Lu had recovered faster than he expected, and had launched a vicious side-kick that caught him in the back and took the wind out of him. As he hurtled forward without control, Li punched him. The force of the blow caused him to stagger backward; then he lost his balance and fell onto the ground as his foot was swept by Lu’s sweeping kick. He was caught in between the two agents. He was not daunted, he shouted a string of profanities and tried to rise and fight again, but the cold, steel tip of the beautifully crafted blade wielded by Lu Ximing cut into the side of his neck.
“Stop.” Lu said authoritatively. “Get up.”
Tu glared at them silently as he rose. He was badly beaten. Though he had hit the two men several times, they did not seem hurt badly. They had won because of superb coordination. The man with the moustache asked, “Who is involved in the rescue of the former emperor?” They did not waste any time. They did not even ask his name. They were sure this was their man, after enquiring, following, observing and studying him before taking action. They had hidden near his residence for a few days to confirm that he was really alone. Tu knew there was no point asking how they found him, or even who he was. They were the Eastern Depot; there was little they did not know about. He glared at them defiantly.
“Speak up, traitor.” Li prodded him with his foot. “Give us a name, the name of the man in charge. We’ll end this quickly here. He is Zhao Qi, am I right?”
The man knew he was beaten. If he allowed them to take him back, he would spill everything like a broken jar of water. No one had stood against the Eastern Depot, and no one would. Tu had no illusions about his own bravery against their brand of torture; he would rather die. He looked at them with one last look of insubordination and said slowly, with his eyes narrowed.
“I am an Imperial Bodyguard.”
Then he pushed his own exposed neck against Lu’s blade and died a hero. The two of them stood and looked at him as he bled to death, blood pumping out of his cut carotid. He convulsed as his body went into death throes, making a strange mewing sound. They looked on as he died. They felt no anger towards him even though he had fought them, and in the final moment of dying defeated them by denying them the information they came for, causing them to fail in their mission. He was after all, a part of the fraternity of the Jinyi wei, except that he served a different emperor. Lu and Li knew they would have done exactly the same as Tu. Lu lowered himself and closed Tu’s open, still eyes.
When they were a few miles away, Li turned to see the column of black smoke rising from the blacksmith’s torched home. Though the man had not divulged anything, the agents knew enough. If he had chosen death over capture, then he must be protecting something. And that something must be his former comrades, his emperor and the mission. Action did speak louder than words.
TWENTY ONE
“Speak!” Ma Hun shouted at the man kneeling before him. He turned to the crying lady and quivering small child next to the man and pointed his spear at them. “Or they will pay the price for your stubbornness.”
The woman cried and begged this stranger to spare them. What had they done and what does he really want? She was hugging her child tightly, trying to calm the shaking child who did not comprehend what was happening at their once-peaceful home. How could a child understand the evil that gleamed from the stranger’s eye as he hit her father and mother? The little girl bawled even louder. The man was infuriated and he kicked her father again. Turning to her mother, he slapped her so hard she fell and hit her head against the floor with a thud. But it did not frighten the child into silence. On the contrary, she screamed louder.
“Speak! Damn you. Before I kill your wife and daughter before your eyes.” Ma screamed at Zhang, spittle landing onto his face. Zhang’s eyes glared with fury; something within him raged like a trapped animal wanting to come out. But he had been complacent. He was used to the life of a land-owning farmer and family man. He had been easy to track and with a family now, the Eastern Depot could use them against him.
Back at the inn, An Deli walked up the stairs leading to their room. He had been making enquiries to find the man they wanted. His footsteps echoed across the quiet inn. His instincts told him something was wrong; it was too quiet. There was no human activity at all when there should be someone in the room. He approached his room stealthily, first approaching the wall that hid him from the view of the window and listened. Too quiet. He drew his weapon silently then he pushed the door open; his partner Ma Hun was not around. Instead a letter was on the table addressed to him. He tore the envelope and read it. In less than five seconds, he had grasped the message.
“Son of a bitch!”
He threw the letter onto the floor. He slapped the table angrily, and dashed down the stairs taking more than two steps at the time. In no time, he was out of the inn and running towards the gate which would lead him away from the city.
“Please Sir, don’t harm us. We are just farmers.” The mother pleaded even as blood dripped from her head wound. She had recovered sufficiently to beg him again. His arrogantly cold look told her that her words were in vain. He turned to her husband and screamed, “Do you hear that? Tell me what I want to know and I’ll spare them.” Zhang remained silent even though tears were on the verge of flowing. He regretted the harm he had brought upon his family. All of Jian Wen’s bodyguards led nomadic lifestyles with no attachments formed because they knew this day would come. But Zhang had succumbed. He had given in to the most basic need – the desire for companionship and family. He lowered his head, and remained silent in his own anguish for causing harm to befall his loved ones. If only he had been stronger, he would not have dragged two innocent people into his dangerous past. He could not have joined Wen and Zhao Qi’s cause and leave them behind. Neither could he take them along. He felt terrible.
His wife tugged at his arm. “Tell him please; tell him what he needs to know. Please for the sake of our daughter.” Her heart-wrenching cry snapped his will. Finally, he broke the silence. “The man you seek is Zhao Qi. He commands the rescue.” His voice sounded tiny and frail: the sound of the broken. He muttered the answer instead of saying it. In his heart, he kept asking himself, How did they find me? But he was not surprised – the Dong Chang always found their man.
An ran as fast as he could. He was so single-minded in his purpose that he barely noticed the fleeting scenery changing around him as he exited the town gates. His footsteps thudded against the ground as he weaved
through the throngs of people entering and leaving. Some he managed to avoid; others he forced his way through. He did not stop even though some swore at him. He must not be late.
“Zhao Qi you say? The Emperor’s Pet Tiger?” Ma asked. He had stooped low to hear the soft, broken answer. Zhang nodded. He could not bring himself to look into Ma Hun’s predatory eyes. If only he kept his sabre. But he had buried it in the field thinking that with the passing of time, the weapon would bring more harm if discovered than if it had remained in his right hand. He knew now that had he not been complacent, he might have had a fighting chance to save his family. But now he had none. Begging was his only option.
“Spare my family. Please. They are not involved in this.” As he said this, he slowly lifted his imploring eyes to look at Ma Hun. The younger man returned the gaze steadily as though weighing the decision of mercy. Then he snapped his head backward in laughter.
“You jest! By siding with the dog emperor eighteen years ago, you committed treason, punishable by the execution of the entire clan.”
“NOOOO!” screamed Zhang. His wife wailed as she hugged the little child even tighter. And at that moment, Zhang lunged at Ma Hun with a yell. Although a good fighter when he was young, time had dulled him like an unused blade. His movements were clumsy, and Ma dodged easily. He kicked Zhang hard, and he fell backward. He pointed his spear at the woman and child and shouted at the man again, calling him all kinds of insulting names. Zhang stared at him impotently from the ground. Then Ma Hun laughed, enjoying the power he had over the man. All warriors know the effect of the lack of practice. Not only it slows the body which is the weapon, but the greatest problem brought about by idleness is the loss of awareness and the mind’s focus: the channelling of energy, the timing, coordination and execution all focused with one clear objective. Those who no longer practiced lost its edge. The mind no longer commanded the body with such precision. That filled Zhang with even more regret and frustration. He felt guilty that his desire to live a normal life would end the normalcy of everything.
Ma Hun took two more steps toward him. Zhang huddled with his wife and child, covering them with his body, hoping to make amends by, at least, dying first. The agent of the Eastern Depot lowered his spear and grinned at them, like a boy finding his first litter of defenceless kittens.
An Deli made a turn round the bend and immediately saw the farm plot beside the well. The letter told him to come. He ran toward the little fenced compound. In the middle of the fence there was a gate and it was wide open. A few scrawny chickens scampered away from the running man the way the birds do when they sense danger. The mud yellow house was about twenty feet from the gate and hanging at the door and walls were the usual items found in any peasant home: rows of dried chillies, garlic and corn. In baskets laid out to sun were grain and nuts. Everything looked so typical except the broken door. An dashed through the gate. He noticed that there were no dogs around: something very odd for a rural household. Barking dogs indicated that life was normal. As he entered the compound, instinct told him something had happened behind the doors. He caught sight of a dead dog lying by the side near the well amidst a pool of blood. It had a wound that had two openings through its chest and back. His combat sensitive guts cautioned him not to rush blindly through the door. But slowly, the feeling evolved; there was no danger; it was something more subtle. It was tragedy. A terrible act had been committed. He pushed through the wooden entrance and went into the house.
He surveyed the scene. Ma Hun was sitting on a table looking tired but relaxed. At his feet laid the body of Zhang. His guts were exposed; ripped by multiple spear thrusts. Next to the corpse was a child with a single gaping wound to the chest. And in the corner, where a stack of hay was, was a woman with her pants pulled off. Her head hung limply backward as her body arched over the stack of dried grass. Large, ugly bruises were visible on her neck. She had no open wounds like the rest.
An turned to his colleague and frowned, “What did you do?”
“Zhao Qi.”
“What?” An looked bewildered.
“I got the name Ji wanted. Zhao held a meeting with Jian Wen’s bodyguards. They have a mission to rescue the man. Zhang was there, but he did not want to join in.”
“And how did you get this information?”
Ma looked puzzled, “How? I tortured it out of him of course. It wasn’t difficult when I put the spear to his daughter’s neck and raped his wife.”
“And part of our mission was to rape the man’s wife?”
Ma swung his leg off the table and strode arrogantly towards An. “This is the family of an imperial traitor. Under Ming law, the entire family is liable.” He said with a shrug of shoulder, as though he just repeated the latest weather report.
“Under Ming law, rape is allowed?” An questioned him harshly.
Ma Hun turned and sneered, “Don’t you know that the fastest way to get information from someone is to hurt the people closest to him? Seems that there’s a lot to intelligence work you need to learn man.” As Ma Hun walked passed his colleague, his shoulder brushed against An’s in a deliberately provocative manner. An slowly turned his head to stare at the back of his vicious, younger teammate. He clenched his fist and his eyes narrowed,
‘Insolent dog’.
TWENTY TWO
A servant hurried over, bent slightly at the waist. The man was dressed in the black garb of a domestic servant and he came seeking his master, making anxious little bird-like movements as he navigated towards the big antique desk where his master sat; his master was going through the numerous documents that were the result of administering the imperial household. Wen Xuan, the chamberlain, did not pay attention to the approaching servant, as the onerous task of making sure the needs of the emperor’s family completely absorbed him. He continued working; perusing the documents on his table, making a note here and there, double checking some accounts on the abacus. The clacking of the black digits echoed across the room.
“Master, a disaster is coming!”
The thin man cried out as he came over, finally catching the senior eunuch’s attention. He whispered urgently into Wen’s ears. The senior eunuch’s face did not register any emotion as the breathless man delivered the most frightening news he had ever brought to his master. He put a hand to cover his mouth as he bent to his master’s ear, as though there were others listening in to their conversation in the private office of a high official. Wen took in the news as though it was another case of imperial idiosyncrasy that his office had to deal with. From ageing empresses and concubines who want to bathe in human milk to preserve their skin texture to young princes who took no interest in their royal consorts, but found sexual comfort in male eunuchs, the chamberlain has seen and handled it all. All he did was took a deep breath. The servant revealed that the dreaded Eastern Depot, was coming. And the man coming to the chamberlain’s chambers was more frightening than the devil; he was no other than the head of the Dong Chang himself – Commander Ji Gang.
“That’s enough.” He lifted a hand lazily to dismiss his servant nonchalantly.
“But...Sir. What is happening?” The man was puzzled by Wen’s calmness.
“None of your business. Go. Leave. Nobody wants to be around when the Eastern Depot pays a visit. Neither should you.”
The man looked uncertain. Then he obeyed his master and bowed. He walked backwards for the customary respectful three steps before he turned and ran full speed out of the room via the private corridor hidden from view by an exquisite rose wood partition inlaid with Mother-of-Pearl. Wen was right. No one wants to be seen by the Eastern Depot. It was better to be spotted by the devil himself than these demons in human flesh. Ji Gang strode confidently through the long corridor that led to Wen’s office. He had violated protocol and had not allowed the house servants to convey his wish to visit. Instead, he arrived unannounced and barged his way in. When guards assigned to Wen’s office tried to stop him, Ji merely flashed his seal and the guards r
etreated like dissipating fog. One moment they were there; the next they were gone. Heads lowered and bodies bowed at the waist, they retreated in a subservient manner from the commander. His footsteps thundered through the corridor as though the weight of his mission needed to be conveyed to all who were listening. Yong Ju followed like a hound. He reminded the younger man to watch; this time he would handle it. Wen was beyond Yong’s level of experience, skill and connections. Not all battles were fought with weapons. Wen was no fighter, but the man’s wit was formidable. Yong kept pace with his commander. He expected the old man to be wily as a fox, slippery as an eel. He had seen enough of palace intrigues and politics to know that eunuchs were a special breed of people. They looked like men, but they had the innate wiles of a female. Words were their weapons, connections throughout the byzantine palace system their currency. A careful word here, a hint there, a favour done or a casual comment made: all these made or broke people and careers, dashing lives, hopes and dreams. Sometimes, their little gestures could even cost someone his life. No point having a conversation with Wen. He would go in and confront the man directly. Threaten him, trap him and then break him. He knew that Wen’s greatest defence was the emperor himself; he had served the Imperial Household for decades. He would use that as evidence of his loyalty, and he would tell Ji Gang that he wanted the emperor to preside over this matter. Not to mention the immense patronage Wen would have accumulated within the Civil Service, especially the Justice Department. If word got out, there would be a movement within the Civil Service to petition the emperor on this matter. When that happened, Ji would lose. The Civil Service was the traditional enemy of the Eunuchs but Wen happened to be someone that straddled both sides with ease. He had friends in both camps and thus both the Civil Service and the eunuchs considered him an invaluable asset. As formidable as the Eastern Depot was, it did not need enemies like the Civil Service and the Palace Eunuchs – the people who had the ear of the emperor. No, he thought, he must do this quickly. He can’t break Wen’s fingers or bones like he did to the monks, but neither could he allow this to become an issue. He took a turn and before him was a courtyard. The door to Wen’s office was wide open across the yard. He approached it without breaking stride. The door loomed larger as he came toward it. He stepped over the elevated beam on the floor that supported the door frame and crossed over the threshold. He was ready.
