by Jeremy Han
“Stop.” The abbot said softly so that only Ji could hear.
Ji turned to look at him. “You have something to say?”
“Yes.”
Ji waited. The abbot swallowed hard. He knew that no matter what, there will be bloodshed tonight. This is the way of these men. But he could not bear to see the young ones suffer.
“I am aware of the plan for Jian Wen to seek refuge here.” He said in the slow voice of a man carrying a heavy burden.
“And why isn’t he here?”
“He did not arrive as planned.”
Ji cocked his head in surprise. “Never arrived?”
“Yes.”
Ji Gang’s sharp mind raced to process this. Either the monks at the royal temple had lied or this old man is lying to him now. Or both had spoken the truth as they knew it but there was a plan within a plan to rescue the emperor. Suddenly it hit him; the conspirators had allowed one story to surface, the obvious one so that the Dong Chang would take the bait and chase it while the emperor was hidden somewhere else.
“Where did he go?”
“This, I do not know.”
Ji hit the man hard. The abbot fell to the floor. Frustration welled up in him as he realised that he had taken the wrong lead and was at a dead end. The abbot got to his feet slowly. The man knew no martial arts, Ji could tell. His blow landed without any external or internal resistance. There was no body movement to deflect that suggested a skilled fighter or internal strength to absorb the blow. He felt like he had punched a soft bag. The abbot coughed blood. When his eyes rose and met Ji’s, gone were the serenity and gentleness. It had been replaced by a strength that could not measured - the force of righteousness. He spoke slowly.
“I know who you are. You are the people we were to protect him from. You are the hounds of a wicked emperor sent to destroy a man who will bring goodness to his country, a leader who truly has the Mandate of Heaven.”
Ji’s gaze did not waver as he stared back into the piercing, accusing eyes of the abbot.
“You have committed an imperial offence. You are guilty of treason.”
“Treason against wickedness is not criminal. Ignoring evil or serving it and benefiting from it is. Yes, we might have broken the law, but justice and the law of the universe are on our side. No one can be guilty of protecting the righteous; neither can they be accused of harbouring an innocent man.”
“You are a very brave man, Abbot. I admire that.”
“Repent while you can. Do not give your soul to the devils in hell who will repay for the blood on your hands. All man die, Sir. Even you.”
“I know that. In fact, I have died many times, Abbot. In the service of my emperor.”
The eyes were empty of emotion. Ji Gang was truly dead inside.
“Do you not fear retribution?”
“Ha! Ji laughed. “Let me tell you something old man, all those who wanted me dead died earlier than me, because they died under my hands. Retribution? I will deal with it when it comes. And you do not fear death old man? You don’t care about the deaths of your disciples?” Ji asked.
“Our lives are transient; it is what we do with our lives that are eternal. What I fear is not death but to die before doing the right thing. So it is with the disciples of this temple.” He said it plainly, as though he was stating an unchangeable fact of the universe.
Ji nodded in understanding, acknowledging the old man’s courage. As the old man raised his eyes to look at Ji, he breathed raggedly in pain. Ji Gang’s hand shot out and clasped the abbot’s throat tightly and squeezed. Then he twisted and crushed the Adam’s apple like a nut. The abbot gasped and his eyes glazed over. His body went limp and Ji let go, the body fell to the floor. He turned to face the wailing monks who mourned the death of the beloved abbot, a man who had been like a father to most of them, murdered so cruelly before their eyes; an act they could scarcely comprehend,. The monks knew what would come next. They had heard the exchange between Ji and the abbot. Their temple had been complicit in a treasonous act. But they had also heard the abbot’s argument: that no one could be indicted for standing up against evil. They had seen their leader give his life for his belief in righteousness. They knew that as his followers, they must do the same. The monks started to chant:
“Kill us too! We do not support tyranny. We will not condone evil. We will defy the usurper the Yong Le emperor. We will protect the innocent and rightful emperor Jian Wen!”
They shouted in unison, raising their fist over and over again. It grew louder and louder. Even the freezing monks joined in. One hand covering hopelessly against the cold, the other raised in defiance. These were dying men with nothing to lose, and this type of enemy was the hardest to defeat. Their defiance could not be curbed. Shouts of defiance turned to words of treason, “Long Live the Emperor Jian Wen! Ten thousand years!” They soon chanted.
Ji shouted above the din to be heard, so that his men could hear his orders. “By your own mouths you admit your participation in treason against the Yong Le Emperor of the Great Ming. Men, spare not a single one!”
Suddenly, the five men, who were standing as still as statues, sprang to life with their weapons drawn. Ma Hun’s double headed spear was unsheathed, Lu’s sword was drawn, Li Wei’s chain and sickle unleashed, An Deli’s blade came out of the scabbard and Yong Ju’s cutlass in each hand. And then they went to work.
As they made their way back to the army outpost, Ji looked back in frustration. The centuries-old temple was ablaze, lighting the night sky with a reddish glow. He was back to square one in his hunt. He could not believe eighteen years ago, the plotters already planned for this day. They had buried an escape plan within a route to safety and refuge: one that was easy to find, and led away from the real plan so that the pursuers would go down the path in heated pursuit for nothing. He should not underestimate the scholar-civil servants who were bitterly against Yong Le’s mutiny against his nephew. They represented the best brains in the country and Ji Gang had completely underestimated their ability to plan ahead to protect the emperor they so loved. Now, he had to pay the price of his complacency. His knuckles cracked as he gripped hard in anger. His head ached as his mind tried to find a way to progress but could find none. The way ahead in this chase was even darker than the mountain trail they were following.
The group of secret agents trekked downhill to where their horses were tethered and mounted them. They rode in silence as nobody dared to speak while their commander fumed. Ji pushed his horse ruthlessly and the beast ran in double time back to the camp, frothing in exertion all the way.
THIRTY TWO
“Father what is that?” Li Po asked the Acrobat, as she pointed to a metal pot with boiling, red liquid inside, with chillies floating on the top. Everywhere they went, people seemed to huddle around these pots, dipping chopsticks into the broth. The pots were placed on top of an earthen stove with burning coals and the people eating around it perspired even amidst the winter snow. Still, they seemed to enjoy the food. Next to them were plates of raw meat and vegetables; their chopsticks picked up pieces of food to be dipped into the hot broth. The Acrobat, the Farmer and Li Po had entered the city and were wandering along its meandering, narrow streets. They passed several food stalls selling this quaint meal and it had piqued the young lady’s curiosity.
“I do not know. I have never seen anything like that.” He turned to the Farmer, “Fu, what are those?” The Farmer shook his head without a word. None of them had seen this strange contraption, much less know how the bright red liquid tasted. “I want to try.” She said to her father and tugged his arm in the universal way of daughters getting their way with a doting father. The Farmer nodded and said to his friend in a monotone, “Yeah, I’m hungry, it is lunch anyway. Time to blend in with the locals.”
“Right then, let’s eat. Then we’ll find a place to stay and wait for our friends.” They approached one of the many stores and signalled to the waiter. “Some tea. And we’ll eat what they are h
aving.” The Acrobat pointed at the nearest table.
“Yes Sir. What meat would you like to go with the hot pot?”
So it is known as a hot pot, the Acrobat thought, but he did not speak for fear of revealing that his party was from afar. It was best to remain as invisible as possible.
“It is winter, so some fragrant meat would go well with the body.” The waiter said, sounding like an expert. Fragrant meat was the euphemism for dog. Dog was eaten in winter because its flesh was supposed to warm the body and maintain the balance of hot and cold during winter. The Acrobat nodded at the suggestion and added, “And bring some roasted frog legs.” He pointed at the grill pit, where a man had skewers of frog roasting, its aroma filling the air.
“Hao! The waiter replied heartily in his heavily accented mandarin and sped away. Before they knew it, the man had returned, his hands heaving a stove with orange ambers onto the table. Next came a metal pot with a charred bottom; a well-used veteran of many boiling meals. Another assistant followed with the utensils, tea and plates of meat, raw and cooked, and the accompanying plates of vegetables and mushrooms. They tucked in and then Li Po choked. She coughed and spat out the burning soup. Her tongue went numb and she tried to gulp the tea down. The hot tea made it worse. She started to tear and was screaming for water, only to realise that all the patrons at the eatery were staring at her. Then they laughed. Some of them pointed at her and said, “You must be new to Chongqing.” So much for her father’s attempt to blend in. Her face had turned red, as though the crimson soup flowed in her veins. Perspiration covered her face. The waiter came over with a cup of water and she gratefully drank it. The portly man looked on with amusement until she finished before he asked the Acrobat in a friendly manner where were they from and what were they doing in town? The Acrobat repeated their cover story and the hawker nodded his head. He did not seem suspicious, just curious and friendly, trying to get to know all his customers. He started to explain,
“The broth is made with chillies and a kind of pepper only found in Sichuan so if you have not eaten it before, you must be from somewhere else. The peppers numb your mouth so that you won’t feel the burning chillies. Once you acquire the taste, it won’t be so bad after all.”
He pointed to the rest of the crowd who were eating heartily and slurping the broth loudly. The Acrobat looked at his friend and the Farmer shrugged his shoulders as usual, indicating no problem as he continued to eat. He dipped another piece of raw meat into the broth, watched it turn a light brown before removing it from the dip and put it into his mouth. Although his friend was perspiring, as was everyone, Fu Zhen remained expressionless. The Acrobat decided to break the silence, “Hey, don’t you find this hot?”
“I ate it before.”
“When?”
On a campaign many years ago. Some of my fellow soldiers were from this region. They carried a bag of dried chillies and pepper with them wherever they went. After one of the long marches, we had a few days to rest and the soldiers hunted rabbits and caught fish. Using their iron helmets as pots, they made a pungent soup with the chillies and peppers. Boiling the soap over a camp fire, we had hotpot. That’s when I learnt that there was such a fiery meal.” He said with a slight chuckle as he remembered some faraway comical memory.
“Uncle, was your first time like that? Choking on the burning soup?” Li Po asked with curiosity.
He smiled at her kindly, genuinely liking the girl. The Farmer seldom smiled but when he did, he looked every bit the kindly relative that anyone would like to have. His grin revealed a row of uneven teeth but white teeth. “Yes. And they laughed at me like the way they,” he indicated with his chopsticks at the other patrons at the restaurant, “they did at you. It is part of the fun treating your friends to hotpot – watching them choke.”
She pouted at him, not pleased with being made into a joke. Her father laughed. He patted her hand and pointed to the pot with his chop sticks, “eat, child,” he said gently. She wiped her face with her sleeve and started to eat again. After awhile, she got used to it and ate as heartily as the locals around them. The Acrobat’s heart felt lighter. Laughter had lifted the mill stone around his heart. He had been worried when he stepped into the city. The place was alien, cold and dangerous. Stepping into a city for the first time, watching for enemies and hoping he could locate his friends placed a heavy strain on him; watching his daughter have a little fun and awkwardness in a restaurant made everything feel normal again. A father, a daughter, a family friend eating in a restaurant with lots of people around; the atmosphere was casual and friendly. Everything seemed so simple for a moment and he almost forgot that he was hunted by the deadliest assassins in the empire. He sipped some tea and wished with all his heart that one day he could bring up his daughter in peace and give her a life that is stable and secure. His own life had been wasted. Now, all he wished was to find the promised refuge so that he could give his daughter what she deserved, and what every father longed to give their children – a good life. They finished up and paid, and then left the restaurant with the owner smiling at them good-naturedly and they smiled back, forgetting to be as inconspicuous as possible.
As the sun set, the two men conferred and decided that they should not wander the streets after sunset. They returned and spoke to the owner of the restaurant; he owned the rental rooms on the second floor. They went up the stairs after negotiating the price with the innkeeper, following the innkeeper’s young assistant. The wooden steps creaked under their weight as they climbed up. They walked along a corridor to the residential wing, which was quieter; they could no longer hear the banter of the restaurant guests as well as the myriad sounds that arose from running a busy eatery. Like all Chinese buildings, the centre of the building was a yard. The yard had a miniature stone mountain rising amidst a frozen pond; a decorative arrangement of rough stone to resemble the mythical mountains where the fairies lived. It was covered with a fine layer of snow that reflected the setting sun’s rays. A servant walked around the establishment lighting the huge, round, oil-paper lanterns that ringed the courtyard. The man shivered visibly as the cold wind caressed him and he tried to hide the flame so that it would not be extinguished. Slowly, the courtyard was bathed in a warm orange glow as the lanterns came to life. They passed the man as he came up the stairs and did the same for the lanterns on the second floor. As the worker walked pass them, the Farmer turned his head and took a second glance at the man as he felt there was something familiar about him but he could not place it.
After settling into their rooms, they waited for the servant to come with a pot of burning coal. Their beds were made of bricks with the centre hollowed out so that a pot of heating coal could be put into it to warm the bed in winter. The man used a pair of tongs to slide the bucket in and adjusted its position to where they would sleep then he left the room. The Acrobat said to Li Po, “Stay here in the room. Do not leave until I come back. I need to speak to Uncle Fu Zhen.”
She nodded and lied down on the bed. It had been a tiring day and she did not need any encouragement from her father to sleep. The Acrobat left the room quietly; taking a loving glance before closing the door gently so as not to awaken his sleeping child. The door closed with a soft creak and the Acrobat started walking towards the other corner of the corridor. They had chosen rooms at different ends of the square building so that at no one time can they be boxed in and trapped. Also this way, they could look out for each other from the other side of the hallway covering different angles and lines of sight. He tightened the cloak around his shoulders and stepped into the cold. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the cry of the time keeper as he made his rounds. The Acrobat did not envy him; the rest of the city slept in warmth while the time keeper worked in the freezing, cold darkness. Sitting at the table in the Farmer’s room, he took out a flask of wine and poured two cups. “So what do we do now? What are Zhao’s instructions to us?”
“We wait now. I’m sure he is somewhere here in the city, an
d he will try and locate us. He said that once we are here, we are not to draw attention to ourselves but to make our presence visible at the town centre. He will spot us and send word.”
The Acrobat nodded. Fu Zhen continued, “I know this is madness. But you must trust that when Zhao Qi said he will be here, he will.”
“I know. I trust the commander. Just that after so many years, anything could happen. We have to assume that our enemy is after the same thing as us.”
“Yes, the Dong Chang.” The Farmer muttered softly. At the same time, his fist tightened in anticipation of the fight to come.
