by Jeremy Han
Now they stood at the bank of the river where they came from. They would wait here for the transportation away. Zhao Qi strained his ears. The whirling mist was thick as soup, and he could not see beyond the waterline of the same pebble beach they came from yesterday. It was so still; he could hear his own breathing. The wind blew and the whiteness moved, pushed along gently, nature against nature. It was ghostly silent except for the lapping of the waves against the shore. Small fish darted along the clear, undisturbed waters. All of them tensed. The place was serene and still, but what they wanted was not there. The uncertainty was unnerving. Beyond the white gossamer shroud of vapour laid either salvation or ambush.
Then it came. A slow haunting melody floated like a spirit finding its way through the mist. They did not know who was playing the flute. Zhao signalled and the team drew back. They concealed the monk behind the rocks and reeds. Yula hid herself behind a bunch of reeds, drew her bow and nocked an arrow. She aimed it at the opaque screen of moisture that shrouded their mysterious visitor; she pointed it at the direction of the sound. Only Zhao Qi stood along the beach to greet the newcomer. The sound of the flute grew louder and clearer, soon the shape of a boat with a standing rower took shape. The rower was playing the instrument as the gentle currents brought him closer and closer to shore. There was a soft crunch as the hull touched the pebbled floor. The rower was a big man. He looked neither like a fisherman nor a boatman although he was dressed like one, complete with an open-top straw hat. But he could definitely handle being on water. He stood solidly still despite the movements of the currents as though his feet were permanently fixed to the vessel. If one looked carefully, they would see how he adjusted to the shifting waters and maintained his balance. There was a scar on his face; a war wound, not an accidental one. The way he stood told Zhao that this man stood with perfect balance without even thinking of it; unconscious competency of martial arts and combat on water. This man was a marine.
“Wei!” Zhao greeted him. The man stopped playing and replied, “Do you like my song?” He smiled easily, like a man on a casual cruise.
“It brings back old memories.”
“Really? Maybe you and I have some common memories.”
“Or a common past.”
“No, I think we have mutual friends.”
It wasn’t only the words. The accent confirmed it. Zhao knew who he was and why he was here. This was Khun Sa, the grand admiral’s chief bodyguard. A fellow eunuch captured together with Zheng He. A childhood friend of the illustrious eunuch commander of the Ming navy; the admiral had sent the only one he could trust. The tune was a military tune easily recognisable for its sorrowful melody. Zhao had been told to expect Khun. Still he was cautious. He said, “Can I come aboard?”
“Sure.”
And Zhao stepped onto the bow. At one glance, he saw that the boat was empty so he signalled for the rest. Slowly, like ghosts, they emerged from the mist. Fu Zhen and Li Jing in front, Jian Wen behind the two men and then followed by Li Po and Long. Yula came out last, slowly releasing the tension on the bowstring and lowering the arrow as the certainty of a peaceful encounter increased. Khun nodded his approval,
“Very careful.”
“One cannot take chances.” Zhao replied, holding their saviour’s gaze.
He wasted no time. “Then it is time to go.” Khun raised the paddle and pushed the boat away from the shore before starting to navigate it out into the water. Zhao Qi stood with him for a time, and then Jian Wen came over as the boat glided over the green waters.
“My thanks for coming.” The former emperor said.
Khun nodded. “I am just following orders.”
“Why would the Admiral take this risk?”
Khun Sa kept quiet and pondered his reply. What should he say? Finally, he replied, “The Admiral had never forgotten that it was the Ming that took him captive, castrated him and made him a slave. Even though he is honoured now, it does not change the fact that he was stolen as a child and denied nature’s gift of manhood. Yet, he remembers that you showed him kindness.”
“My uncle has shown him kindness too.”
“No. The Emperor Yong Le is wise to recognise and reward talent, but that is different from genuinely caring for a man and calling him a friend. He would just as well reward a faithful hound. As a eunuch, he had no choice but to wage war against you. If he disobeyed he would have been executed at the first instance. You know how your uncle is.”
“That is true.”
“This is his act of contrition; his repentance towards you. He hopes you will forgive him for raising arms against you eighteen years ago.”
“All is forgiven. I seek his forgiveness too for all that the Ming has done to him. It is unfortunate that man should try to subjugate another by destroying them.”
Khun looked at him curiously and said. “You don’t sound like an emperor at all.”
“I am nothing in the grand scheme of things. I have shed that life through much suffering and pain. Power, status and control all mean nothing to me now. I can see things a lot more clearly.”
“Would you contest the emperor for power again? You are after all the rightful emperor. And there are those who will assist you if you rebel.”
“And who suffers if I do that? Who gains?” Jian Wen spoke without averting his eyes from the distant mountains. He spoke from a deep sense of introspect. He must have pondered the question for a long time. Thoughts of revenge, fantasies of regaining his throne, his birthright, his pride had burnt brightly like a bonfire until time and enlightenment had snuffed out the fire by denying it the fuel of worldly desires. As Jian Wen came to understand the futility and temporal nature of things, he lost interest in regaining his throne. He started to see something that was invisible from an emperor’s perspective; it was the people who paid the price for the ego of the noble class. He started to think that if he truly loved his people, he would not seek vengeance.
He continued, “The Empire is now at peace. Whatever my uncle may have done to me, the people is benefiting from the stability and prosperity he brought. Whoever sits on the throne is not important, what matters is the happiness of the people. If I rise against my uncle, armies will be levied, families would be torn apart, crops taken and people starving. If I do this, I love myself more than my people.”
Khun listened intently and did not say anything. And then finally he uttered, “You would have made a truly good emperor.”
Jian Wen laughed softly. “Perhaps. But it did not turn out that way.”
Zhao Qi broke the silence as he came to join them. “So what is the plan? We make our way to the Admiral’s base in Suzhou?”
“No. Too obvious.”
Zhao and Jian Wen looked quizzically at him. Khun continued, “The base in Suzhou is heavily watched. Every voyage Zheng He makes, the emperor sends the Dong Chang along. Agents accompany the admiral; they even sit on his command staff.”
“The command staff?”
“Yes. You see, the emperor gave the admiral a secret mandate. The voyages are as much to find your Majesty,” he dipped his head toward Jian Wen, “as well as to further the glory of the Ming. A senior agent accompanies Zheng He to see that he searches diligently, or at least to make sure that if Jian Wen is found, he will be eliminated.”
“Wouldn’t it be dangerous for Jian Wen to sail south?” Zhao asked, aghast at this revelation by Khun Sa.
“The most dangerous place is the safest. The Haijin ‘Sea Prohibition’ is in place. No one sails except the Imperial Fleet. Private ships are hunted down like pirates.”
Khun saw suspicion darken Zhao’s face and further explained to assure him. He knew the man must be thinking that this could be an elaborate trap to suss Jian Wen out and drive him into a net.
“The Admiral had thought it out. Each fleet carries traders, craftsmen and religious men. Your party will be lost among them. It is not uncommon for Buddhist monks, Muslim Clerics, tradesmen like yourself and performers to t
ravel with the fleet. Many a times, these people stay in the lands of the South Seas and do not return. There are vast Han communities there, and the Ming encourages it because this way, we bring civilisation to them. It is the perfect way for you to disappear.”
“We hide in plain sight.” Jian Wen said.
“Exactly.”
Zhao asked, “So where do we go to now?”
“We go to Quanzhou where the fleet will berth to collect the vast amount of tea, sea food and porcelain for trade and imperial gifts. The Admiral has a forward office there. I will arrange for you to disappear in one of the many supply ships.”
Jian Wen asked, “Will we see the Admiral?”
“It is unlikely. You cannot be seen anywhere near him. Or appear anywhere that the emperor’s agents will be watching.”
Jian Wen nodded sadly. He would have liked to see Ma Sanbao again.
FORTY FOUR
Ji looked at the man intently; he wasn’t lying. Exaggerating yes, but lying no; he had something to gain from telling the truth – his life. Ji glared at him in his usual intimidating way, scrutinizing him. The man squirmed. Ji knew his type: A big bully, big physically but small inside. He stepped on those smaller than him, but ran away from those larger or stronger. Before Ji Gang and his men, the man shrank like a dried sponge.
“Tell me again what happened.” Ji asked calmly. The calm did not hide the menace.
And the man recounted how a stranger had approached him to rent or buy a boat. At first he was reluctant, and then the stranger produced a great sum of money. Still, he hesitated because he was not sure who the stranger was. He thought of reporting to the authorities but he did not want to be overly suspicious, giving him the benefit of doubt. Then to his great disappointment, he had always wanted to see the good side of others, the stranger pulled out a knife and threatened him. He gave him the boat and reported to the authorities. He was a victim of a crime committed by someone from far away. He, an honest, trusting man, who wanted to do what was right, ended up getting robbed. And thus he had no choice but to seek recourse from the authorities. And that was how he ended up in this room with the frightening bald man asking the questions that was not overtly threatening, but somehow conveyed a menace, a carefully controlled violent force. Behind him were two others; one young and silent, with two cutlasses sheathed and another older man with a long sword whom the bald one occasionally conferred with. Outside the door, stood another young man, one who looked really wicked, who glared at him as though he was the criminal and not the victim. The young man held a double headed spear that hinted about the user’s character. The regular soldiers of the Yamen were nowhere to be seen. Those soldiers he knew. He often had dealings with them. When he reported the crime, he expected great sympathy, but he was put into a cell until these scary men came, and then he found himself in this dark room, seated at a table and asked many questions about the stranger. He was not ill-treated at all, just denied his freedom until the bald man came, as though he was held only for baldy. And baldy wasn’t rude or cruel, but baldy frightened him greatly. They did not need to be mean to him, danger just emanated from the being.
Ji looked at him and thought, Liar. He knew the man had hidden parts from him. He knew the type, ‘Er ren xian gao zhuang’. ‘The crook is the first to report an injustice’. More likely the story went this way, ‘The stranger came looking for a boat. He did not want trouble, just wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. Pay and go. This man agreed, then on the appointed day, he brought a few toughs and tried to take the money without leasing the boat. He wanted to take advantage of the newcomer’s unfamiliarity and fear of the unknown. But the newcomer took on the bully and beat the hell out of the gangsters. He took the boat and did not bother to pay since he was dealing with crooks, and now this scumbag was here trying to stir shit and use a power greater than his to settle a score that was his own doing. Typical bully; strong like a bull, but too stupid to realise that others can see through their game easily. Big as he was, he carried bruises and walked with a limp. No one, in the right mind would beat up a guy as big as this unless he had a good reason to. A man trying to get a boat secretly would never do such a thing. Indeed Ji was correct.
On the said night, the wind was howling and beating when the door to the pub opened, creaking against the force of the winter gale. A singular figure hunched through the low door and stepped across the threshold and into the stares of the patrons; his entry had broken the routine merry making of the fisher folk and boatmen community. Candle flames were disturbed by the opportunistic wind that came in with the stranger. The man tried to come incognito and as inconspicuous as possible but no one could have missed that height. And in closely knit, small communities like this one, it was inevitable that all eyes would fall on him. He ignored the stares and walked wearily to the barman and asked for a drink. The suspicious owner looked at him with a side glance before he nodded toward an empty table by the side. The tall man sat down and risked a glance across the room; merry-making had resumed and nobody paid him any notice. These men led hard lives and unless there was a threat to their meagre livelihoods, they would not care. They drank copious amounts of rice wine to warm their bodies and to dull their senses. This was the only way to cope with the hard life of surviving along the river. Many of them were river coolies. They formed teams and waited for boats to pass. When a boat or junk encountered adverse currents, the team would come to the rescue: ropes from the boat would be tied around their waist and the whole team would pull the heavily laden junks with their bodies as they trudged along a parallel shore until the vessel tide through the currents and could sail again on its own. River coolies usually worked naked because the ropes tied around them would rip their clothes, and they were too poor to replace them. Their bodies were full of rope-burn scars. The river coolies, the fishermen and boatmen all gathered under one roof today because the weather was too foul for work. After a couple of drinks and some hot soup, the tall stranger strolled over to the bar tender and asked him, “Do you know someone who would rent me a boat?”
The bar tender laughed.
Slowly, the rest of the patrons noticed the bar tender was unusually jovial and they turned their attention to him. The bar tender said to his attentive audience, “This man wants to rent a boat. Who is willing to do so?”
“Wo! Wo! ‘Me! Me’!” Several shouted, eager to make some money since they could not work. Then someone stood up and the commotion died down. People started to look away as the standing man scanned the crowd. He was looking for any challengers, anyone who dared to stand up against him. The local bully. He turned to the stranger,
“You want a boat?”
“Yes.”
“You have money?”
The man nodded. He was as big as the stranger, with tattooed arms and a sour face: The kind of face that asked for a punch -- if anyone dared to. “Meet me at the dock behind the bar later.” Then he turned and left, opening the door, letting the howling wind in again but this time nobody took notice. The novelty of the stranger had ended. Khun Sa stood at the jetty and looked at the moored boats. A layer of snow covered most of them as they bobbed in the water. The wind had died down and the moon cast an eerie glow over the scene. Khun waited with his arms folded. He was not impatient, but he wondered whether the man was toying with him, making a fool of a stranger. It was not uncommon; their lives could be so grey to the point that a childish prank like that would brighten their day.
Then he saw three ethereal figures coming toward him. Was the pale moonlight playing tricks? Then the creaking planks confirmed that they had come. Ghost did not have weight. Leading the trio was the man Khun spoke to. By way of greeting, he rasped,
“How much money do you have?”
Khun pointed to a boat tied to the jetty. It was a fishing boat that could take a party of ten, with a compartment for equipment and shelter. The boat bobbed but otherwise looked sturdy. Khun had already looked through the goods and made his choice.
> “I have enough money to rent this one.” Then he added, “Maybe I should buy it instead.”
“Buy?” The thug asked. He looked at his two companions but they shrugged; they couldn’t care less.
“Yes buy. You deaf or what?” Khun took out a piece of paper and the thug whistled. It was a credit note for one hundred pieces of silver. “Good enough?” He asked coolly.
