by Jeremy Han
“He seemed sane enough. After all, his planning was flawless. He knows what he is doing, don’t worry about it. If he said he has something important to settle, it must be critical indeed.” He took her hand and led her. He looked ahead without emotion. He had read her thoughts but did not want to show it.
The former civil servant watched Zhao and his team crest a hill; they were gone. He sighed. He had come to like them. He had been alone for too long and had missed human company. They had filled the cold empty building with warmth and laughter even though there was tension. He had cheered at Li Po’s safe return, and teared at the reunion of father and daughter. He smiled to himself and thought that at least, he hadn’t gone crazy as he sometimes had believed. He was very much still human. He silently wished Zhao and his team success and a good life ahead. Then he turned and looked at the empty warehouse. Suddenly, it looked cold and uninviting. Living there filled him with dread. He knew what he must do and strangely realised that he wasn’t afraid. In fact, he felt a slight elation as he performed his last duty. He went into the kitchen and found the stack of hay he kept for this purpose. He scattered it across the building, with extra stacks at the base of the wooden pillars. Then he took a torch and lit the dry grass. The fodder lit quickly and soon the old wood caught on. The whole building burnt brightly, filling it with smoke. Fang Xiaoju, high minister at Jian Wen’s court, stood before the burning warehouse. He craned his neck as though he was looking for someone amidst the flames. Then suddenly he burst out laughing. Happiness filled his heart and he leapt in joy. He saw his wife and children standing next to a pillar that was alight. He waved to them and shouted,
“I’m coming! Wait for me!” And then he dashed into the consuming fire, laughing, hands widespread, the way a father and husband would when he had not seen his loved ones for a long time.
When Ji Gang and his team arrived, they found a smoking ruin. Piles of tinder, glowing embers and ashes were scattered over what was once a huge building. The secret agents searched for clues and found some charred human remains. Not adverse to studying corpses, the secret agents examined the body and found something of interest on the blackened torso. Hidden under what remained of his clothing was a slightly melted seal that had on it the engraving of the word Guan ‘Official’. The heat had softened the metal, but the word was unmistakable. The person who had died in the fire was not some vagrant but a high official of the Ming. Ji knew he was on the right track again.
That evening, the Marquis summoned his physician. The man appeared before his patron in his usual white robes. It created a certain ascetic feel about the man as though he was holy. Everyone however knew he was evil incarnate. The man looked nothing like what was in his heart. One would expect a stooping, hunchbacked monster with a crazed, unkempt look but Physician Zhen looked like a typical scholar-official. He was tall and erect in his bearing. He had fine features and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were full of intelligence and his hair was nicely combed. He spoke well, in a deeply assuring and educated way. He had held many in his sway before, especially young children and girls. They were his prey in more ways than one. He practiced a dark art that believed that the blood of a virgin girl child would keep him young and sex with them would replenish his vital life force: the younger the better. He considered the Marquis as his patron, not his master, for he saw himself as a holy man more than a doctor and his arts were not confined to the physical aspects of healing, his craft and material not merely medicinal. The Marquis was the latest in a long line of patrons who had allowed him to dabble in his wicked practices in return for the secret of youth. In his heart he knew that the deeper he got them involved, the less likely they would reveal his identity because they became co-criminals. He was always amazed how gullible the rich and powerful were when it came to the topic of longevity. He smiled to himself. He followed the servant in measured and confident footsteps as the underling led him to the nobleman’s chambers. They passed the long and winding corridor before they came before the wide entrance to the Marquis study.
“Physician, please sit.” The Marquis indicated. He did not stand due to his bad leg. Even though he was royalty, he regarded Physician Zhen highly. He believed that his life depended on this man, so whatever he said was like gold to the crippled man.
“What troubles you today my lord?” The self-composed man asked.
“Surely you have heard.” The crippled man grunted.
“The raid yesterday? I do not know the details.” He had on his face a detached look as though mundane things like a visit by the Eastern Depot did not bother him. He added gravely instead, “What I know, is they stole your antidote. You know the consequence of missing one dosage.”
“Yes. It was the rebels who infiltrated my home. Who would know that the girl I pick turned out to be a rebel pursued by the Dong Chang. What bad luck it is to have them all converge in my palace.” The man grumbled.
The physician stroked his beard in a thoughtful way. Then he said, “You will have to find a way. Meanwhile, I will have to make you a potion that will defer the effects of your delay. ” After some thinking, he added, “Hmmm…some of the herbs are rather dangerous to obtain.”
“Please prepare it doctor. Spare no expense. I will pay you in gold as usual. And of course, you can share human flesh with me.”
The man nodded as though he expected the generosity of the Marquis. Then he got up and left, saying, “Well, I have to go then. The journey is far. I have to get back before the next moon. I fear that the delay until the next moon would really deplete your energies.”
One week later, Physician Zhen was walking along the path of a forest looking for the Marquis’ herbs. He looked at the plants carefully, checking them, smelling, looking and tasting. Occasionally he found what he wanted and put it into a basket. He thought to himself what a fool the Marquis was. It was true that his medicine saved the man, but he knew that the part about consuming the flesh of young girls was more depravity than medical. He was using the gullible royal to fulfil his own sick fantasies. He smiled to himself. He hoped the fool would have another child waiting for him to satisfy his vile hunger. He continued on.
An saw the man walking and stopping every time there was a plant to examine. He did so studiously, being very careful what plant he selected. Occasionally he put something into his pouch. The secret agent observed the man. He had been following him discreetly. An was surprise that a man with such a diabolical reputation would look so decent. He looked more like a scholar than a cannibal. But An knew that looks never meant anything. In fact, the more dangerous someone was, the less likely he looked that way. He closed in on the physician. At first, An dipped his head so that the straw hat concealed his face, then slowly he looked straight into the monster’s eyes as he wanted to seek confirmation.
Zhen looked at the man who was now staring at him. He had no clue because An Deli’s face was neutral. It could be someone who thought he met a long-lost acquaintance in a faraway land. He definitely did not know the man approaching him. Then the stranger asked,
“Physician Zhen?”
“Yes?” He replied quizzically.
An got his confirmation. There was no need to speak anymore. His hands moved so fast that the man who was about to die did not even see the blade. An drew his sword and slashed the monster across his throat with his trademark move - the hand that moved faster than the eye. The blade was back in the scabbard even before the spray of arterial blood shot out. An stepped aside to let the blood spray. The mud in front of the kneeling man turned reddish. As he slid to his knees, he looked at his killer without understanding why. His mouth moved soundlessly. The man’s white robe was soaked with blood. An obliged him by uttering two words,
“Dong Chang.”
It was superfluous. The man was already dead. A few hours later, An entered the camp and looked for Ji. He passed the curious soldiers who looked at him, eyeing the box in his hand. He came before Ji and the commander looked up. The commander raised
a quizzical eyebrow. An bowed and replied,
“Yes Lord. It is done as ordered.” He presented the box to Ji. Ji saw that the crudely made blood-stained box was leaking, a trail of blackish fluid followed An Deli.
“No need. I trust your skill.” And then Ji Gang smiled.
FORTY ONE
Two weeks after they left Fang Xiaoju, they stood on a pebble beach. Behind them the boatman rowed away. Soon, the morning mist swallowed the man and his craft. Zhao Qi and his men stood facing the highest cliff they have ever seen. They had sailed for almost two days on a tributary of the mighty Yangzi River to reach this spot. The water here was jade green and clear. Yula and Li Po were amazed: they stared into the water looking at the rocks below and the darting fishes. Against the white pebble beach, the place was scenic and amazingly beautiful. Before them and behind them, the cliff stretched to the skies. Long and his lover Yula held hands as they craned their necks in wonder. For someone who lived all her life on the plains, mountain cliffs like that were inconceivable. Li Po chattered excitedly and her father nodded. Father and child wandered the country, but had never feasted their eyes on such magnificence. For the moment, the team stood in awe of the mysterious granite cliffs half covered in mist that reached upwards endlessly. Each step they took ground the pebbles under their foot and the crackling sound echoed across the still air. Then Zhao broke the reverie by saying,
“This way.” He indicated and the rest followed. They walked toward the vertical cliffs and after consulting his map for a while, found the cave he was looking for. The hole seemed small and shallow but as they went in, they found that the cavern widened into a chamber like a great hall. The emptiness reached upwards and there was dampness in the air. Even their whispers became amplified. Zhao Qi muttered about the cleverness of the people who built the temple at the top: anyone approaching them would be heard. At the side, there were crudely carved holes where wooden poles were driven into them so that a stairway was created. At first glance, there was nothing to hold on to, but after looking carefully, there were handholds created from the uncountable years of human use; scruff rock marks and indentations along the wall that allowed one to hold on. This place was extremely old and had a certain effect on them; they fell silent in reverence to it. Zhao took the lead by taking the first step up the log stairway. He tested it gingerly and found it secure and strong. He went up without looking backward. The rest followed in silence.
After a long time climbing, there was a landing which led to an opening in the wall. They stepped through it and a narrow pathway the width of a man was before them. Beyond that was nothing except several hundred meters of space between them and the ground. Fu Zhen looked below and could make out human remains: unfortunate souls had used this narrow corridor before unsuccessfully. This was another ancient secret trail carved out by hands who wanted to protect their privacy. The wind blew and Zhao had to steady himself as he took the first step. He signalled the rest to be careful and they proceeded feet over feet, one step at a time. Each step they took pushed sand and gravel downward. Even the agile Acrobat Li Jing looked worried. Li Po almost hyperventilated.
“Father, I can’t...breathe.” The rest stopped. Zhao turned and look backward, concerned. He did not push them as they had plenty of time. There were no enemies here and the temple was not going to go anywhere soon. But they could not stand there forever either. It was too narrow and if they remained stationery, someone would eventually look down and develop vertigo. The trick was to keep the group moving. Li Po started to breath wildly and cold sweat broke on her face.
“Nu-er ‘daughter’, Be calm. Be still.” The Acrobat squeezed her hand tight. Fu Zhen spoke gently to her, “Close your eyes. Breathe. Look up, can you see the swallow?” There were no birds in the cold air but he successfully distracted her.
“I can’t see the swallow.”
“It’s there, follow my finger.” He pointed. “There.” He was trying the age-old trick of looking afar and not below or in front, so that the eyes would deceive the mind. Li Jing knew what his friend was up to so he played along. “Hold my hand daughter. Look at where Uncle Farmer is pointing. Look ahead and follow me, and breathe.”
Just then a cold breeze blew. Stones fell around them before it went still. They paused; aware how precarious their situation was.
“Let’s go.” Even Zhao’s voice was subdued and tinged with fear. He had to control himself with each step, battling the urge to look down and the natural but morbid curiosity to want to experience what it was like to take a small step over the edge. His legs shook. Long and Yula held hands. Yula’s hand was cold and clammy. Long had to squeeze it once in a while to assure her. He wondered if she knew it was false bravado because deep inside, he was shaking. The heights were higher than anything he had seen, even higher than his native Guilin, which was famous for karst stone mountains. But he had never climbed them, just admired them from afar. Now he had to navigate himself through a hand-hewn path no wider than his shoulders on a mountain. Slowly, step-by-step they walked, each battling his or her fear. Fu Zhen groaned inwardly at the thought that they had to come back this way. He thought that once was enough before his will shut out the negative thoughts that weakened his resolved. Walk, don’t think. He told himself. Just do it mechanically without thinking or feeling, keep your mind elsewhere. The minute you ponder your plight, your mind reminds your legs about the danger and your legs will fail. Walk! Look ahead!
Soon they came to the end of their harrowing walk. Their legs shivered from the strain of nerves and physical exertion. Even the commander breathed an audible sigh of relief. It took a long time for them to travel without incident before they arrived at another chamber. And then another set of wooden stairs similarly constructed stretched on for as high as they could see. At the sight of that, Zhao declared a break. Even the mighty commander had had enough.
“Rest your muscles. We do not know how much more we have to climb, or what we will expect at the top.” Zhao did not bother to pose a guard; there was no one here. The team sat almost as one; bones creaked and loud sighs all around. Li Jing asked his daughter tenderly how she felt. Yula squeezed Long’s hand and they giggled at some private joke. Fu Zhen wiped the perspiration off his expressionless face. Water skins were passed around and they sipped the cold water. Chest heaved as lungs struggled to find precious oxygen within the thin air. The stone chamber provided some form of protection from the wind at least. Zhao studied the position of the shadow and noted that the sun had reached its highest point: it was the hour of Wu. He had at least half the day left to reach the temple. He could not tarry because he did not know what awaited him. The monks might allow them to stay the night or they might be turned them away. Jian Wen might follow or he might need persuasion. They might have to leave immediately or the temple would grant them refuge. He did not know. Or worst, Jian Wen might have died already or refused to leave and they had to argue with the former emperor. All this might take time.
“Up!” The rest obeyed without complain. After another hour of muscle-burning exertion, they stood on a plateau. The wind blew softly as they caught their breath. Here it was obvious that man inhabited the place: a simple but sturdy set of wooden door stood before them. On top of the gate was a simple hand carved signboard that said Wu Ming Si ‘The temple with no name’. It was a place where people went to lose their identity. It was the place that the Jian Wen Emperor had hidden for the last eighteen years.
At the side of the entrance, a dusty, small leather gong was mounted on a wooden frame. The red paint was faint with age. Nobody had bothered to repaint it because hardly anyone ever visited this remote temple. This was the moment. Zhao turned to the group and looked at them, seeking their affirmation. There was apprehension in the air as the commander grappled with the uncertainty of what would happen next. They had come a long way for this and when they stood on the verge of their objective, they did not know what to expect. After a pregnant pause, Zhao took a step forward, picked u
p the drum stick and sounded the gong. Visitors had arrived at this lonely temple lost to civilisation.
FORTY TWO
A monk opened the door. Surprisingly, the door did not creak; it was well-maintained. It was the first sign of a well-disciplined, austere community. The monk wore a gray habit and cloak against the cold. He did not say a word, but gestured for them to enter as though he was expecting them. The team exchanged wary glances, for such a private place, they were admitted rather easily. Nothing attacked them as they stepped across the wooden beam set onto the ground demarking the threshold of the temple. All the security of the temple was found in two stone carved demi-gods standing at each side of the door. Both wore ferocious expressions and had heavily muscled stone bodies. Some parts were worn off. These statues were very old indeed. The silent monk indicated that they should follow; he led them out of the ante chamber and into an open air corridor. The pathway was a set of wooden planks put together over a series of timber poles wedged vertically into the side of the cliff at an impossible angle. Still, the ancient builders must have got something that Zhao and the team could not figure out since the platform did not collapse when they stepped onto it. It was a straight plunge into the river below if the bridge broke. The sound of the river was faintly audible from this height. Yula averted her gaze and looked ahead. Each followed the monk with careful steps as the cleric walked on, oblivious to their discomfort. Zhao hazarded a glance and realised that the stretch of ground below was not the place they had entered from. From below, the temple must have looked like an eagle’s nest perched on a cliff with no visible way of access. The boatmen who sailed the river must have wondered who lived up here and how they got up. Unless the monk had wings...?
