by Jeremy Han
“Where do you want to go?”
“Shi tan.” ‘Pebble Beach’.
“What business do you have there?”
“Do you want to deal or do you wish to plan my travel itinerary for me? Take the money and give me the boat or I go.”
“Yes.” He came forward greedily and Khun gave it to him. Khun turned and wanted to step onto the boat when a rough hand grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
With the silver note now safely in his pocket, the gangster spoke to Khun with his chin arrogantly tilted, all politeness gone.
“You obviously do not know the rules do you?
“What rules? I pay for what I need. Is that not the universal rule? Moreover, I paid you more than what the boat cost.”
Khun’s eyes narrowed at the last remark, indicating that he knew he was being overly generous and it should not be taken for granted.
“You dare to argue huh? You gave me your money even before I state my price. Two hundred taels.” He pointed two fingers at Khun. At the same moment, his two henchmen took out boat hooks to drive home the point that they were threatening this stranger who had entered their territory like a sheep wandering into a conclave of wolves. It was almost their divine right to rip every shred of fat off the little poor lost lamb. Khun’s response was unexpected and unmistakable. He twisted the bully’s outstretched hand and punched him hard in the face not once, twice, but thrice.
The bully was a strong man but Khun punch as though his knuckles were made of stone. After the triple punch, he was still standing until Khun delivered a solid kick into his bowels. He collapsed like a sack. The first henchmen man yelled as he swung his boat hook at Khun. Khun ducked sideways as the rusty hook swished by then he kicked the man in the knee, bringing him down before hitting him twice with a left-right hook. He looked up and brought up an arm that was as sturdy as a tree limb and clothes-lined the third man who was charging at him. He flipped as though he had hit the branch of a hundred year-old oak. Khun kicked him hard and stomped on his hand. The assailant screamed in pain as the hook dropped into the river.
The three thugs huddled together as Khun stood tall and victorious over them. He was tempted to throw them into the freezing water, but did not want to attract attention. He took one last look at them. Pathetic. All their aggressive meanness was gone, and all that was left was fear and shock. Fear that Khun would kill them and shock that they had been bested in such a short time, with almost no effort from Khun. Khun folded his arms as he glared at them. His fierce look dissolved into a sneer as he pitied these small-town bullies. He despised them for trying to pick a fight when they thought they had advantage over a lonely stranger, but cowered like little girls when defeated. Khun spat at the leader and jumped onto the boat. As he rowed away quietly, the gangster sullenly wiped the goo on his face. He had been insulted and he stared daggers into the back of the man who had beaten him. Soon the image was swallowed by the darkness.
Ji glared at the crook with barely concealable disgust. He had tremendous respect for those who fight fair, even for those who were his enemies. The man looked like a panda; dark bruises circled his eyes where Khun had punched him. The injured eye tried to keep up with the movements as he looked at Ji Gang, waiting for the commander to question him. Ji had to control himself from laughing at this sorry example of a man.
“So where did he go?”
“He wanted to go up one of the tributaries of the great river.”
“Which one?”
“The tributary after the Shi tan fishing settlement.”
“Shi tan? Pebble Beach?” Ji looked at him, intrigued.
“Yes, there is a stretch of pebble beach up the tributary.”
“And what is there?”
“Nothing. I told him nothing is there.”
“And still he insisted on going?”
“Yes. I told you, he is a criminal. There must be some buried treasure there. That is why, as a concerned subject of the empire, I had to report it.” He injected just the right amount false patriotism and righteousness to almost make Ji slap him.
“Take me there.”
“Yes Sir. Ermm...about the reward for the information...” the man asked, a little afraid, but not scared enough to know when to shut his mouth. Ji looked at him as though he would crush him like an insect anytime, then smiled, “Of course.” He took out a piece of paper -- a hundred taels of silver.
A few hours later, Ji’s boots crashed into the jade green waters of the river. He heard the crunching of the pebbles underfoot as more of his men got off the boat and walked toward him. Without turning around, he commanded,
“Search the area, look for anything that will give you a clue who this stranger is. And what he wants to do at this remote area. You know what we are looking for.”
“Yes Sir!” The team of agents spread out.
He stood alone looking, allowing his mind to be free, to pick up the scent of his prey, to piece the invisible jigsaw puzzle and unravel the mind of his adversary. The air was wonderfully fresh and he took a deep breath. It re-vitalised him and he felt a sense of renewal. This was good. A refreshed spirit and mind is always good for a chase. He had never faced such a clever foe before. He had learnt not to underestimate Zhao Qi. In that moment of solitude, Ji asked himself if he really wanted to kill Jian Wen, knowing in his heart that the former emperor was also as much an heir, if not more legally so than Yong Le. He quelled those thoughts and focused on his job, which was to rid his master’s nightmares.
“Sir.” Ji Gang turned.
Ma Hun reported to him excitedly. Favour was about to be won for his discovery.
“There is something there that you would like to see.”
“Hmmm...?” Ji tilted his head in query.
“On the cliff, impossible for man to reach, is an ancient Buddhist temple.”
Ji felt a jolt. He followed Ma without another word, and there it was, hiding amidst a low layer of clouds, sat a temple like an eagle’s nest. It perched precariously on timber poles and looked as though a sneeze could bring it down. It looked as though the gods tried to hide it with clouds and mist from lesser mortals.
“Summon the local.” The man scampered over.
“What is that?” Ji pointed at the half-hidden temple.
“That is a temple without a name. Nobody knows what it is called but everyone in this area knows it exists. Some say that it existed for as long as anyone could remember.”
“And the stranger wanted to go to the temple?”
“He did not say that.” He shrugged.
“How do you get up there?” Ji asked excitedly. This could be it: a mysterious temple far away from civilisation and authority, perfect for a court fugitive.
“Nobody knows. Some people say the monks there have learnt how to fly. Others say nobody lives there anymore. Most people think it is haunted.” The man babbled.
Ji silently cursed the man’s stupidity. He was like an ox, all muscle, no brains. Even a criminal ought to have some brains. Or maybe he had the hundred taels of silver in his pocket and no longer saw the need to be cooperative. Ji glared at him. No, he really did not know. There was no mischief in the man’s eyes; just a peasant repeating what others told him because he did not have an opinion or knowledge about the place. Why should Ji be surprised? Whoever built that place did so with the intention that the world could not reach it. And sometimes, the best barrier for that was to create a myth.
He made up his mind. He turned to the team of agents and gave his orders. He sent Li and Lu back to the town. They will commandeer the river navy and erect a naval blockade around the waterways leading in and out of the various waterways. Then he assembled the remaining agents and the soldiers from the local garrison to find a way up to the mysterious perching temple.
As the sun set, Ji stood with his hands at his back as the boat rowed slowly away. It had been a long and tiring day. He reflected on the results of the day’s work and felt both elation as well
as disappointment. He thought of the stoic look on the abbot’s face even as his head rolled. The bouncing head did not display the anguish, fear or shock of executed victims but had the serene look of someone who went home to sleep. The rest of the monks were different. They were not as enlightened as the abbot and had feared death. Still, it did not excuse their collectively treachery of harbouring an imperial fugitive.
They had found the passageway that took them up to the temple, gathered the monks in the huge prayer chamber and tortured them. Soon it was revealed that a monk, whom several suspected was a court fugitive, left a few days ago with an armed escort. Throughout the interrogation, the abbot was silent. His eyes were closed even as his disciples screamed through broken bones and torn flesh. His lips slowly moved, chanting. When Ji Gang had known enough, he ordered the monks executed for treason and the temple torched. Their guilt was heavier than those at the Temple of White Clouds and could not be spared.
He clenched and unclenched his fist. He was glad that they finally got back on the right track but the few days lead that Zhao had could take them anywhere. Where should he look next? He looked at the boatman with the panda eyes. He did not go up to the temple and hence did not witness the massacre, but he knew that something terrible had happened there. Ji thought of killing him to hide what he had done but realised that there was no need to; what he did was legal because it was in the service of the emperor. ‘No, better to let him live so that he could spread the word about how the Eastern Depot punishes rebels.’ Ji Gang thought. Ji felt the evening chill gather and wished that he was somewhere else. He sighed. He felt old for this kind of chase. He thought of a hot tub of water. The boatman glanced at him again and this time Ji ignored him. But Ji did not realise that the boatman was not looking at him, but at the plume of purple smoke rising from the cliff as bits and pieces of the thousand-year old temple fell and crashed into the river.
FORTY FIVE
Khun cursed aloud like any marine worth his salt. His sailor’s eyes made out the red, fluttering flag obscured by the white mist. There was a black circle with the word ‘Ming’ set on the red flag. There was a military boat ahead. The sun was still weak in the early winter morning and the mist heavy like a silk veil. The rest of them were sleeping, only Zhao was awake and he had gathered to Khun when he heard the elaborate and continuous swearing.
“What’s wrong?” He asked urgently.
Khun pointed forward. It was too late; the soldiers had seen the fishing boat. As the wind dissipated the mist, Khun and Zhao silently counted the number of soldiers they could see. One of the men, an officer, beckoned the fishing boat forward. They were spotted and there was no way they could run.
“Are they looking for us? Zhao asked Khun.
“No idea. Could be a routine check for smugglers.” Khun replied quietly as though he was afraid the soldiers could hear.
“What should we do?”
“Wake the rest but tell them to pretend to be sleeping. If this is routine, they will just look and go. But be ready for anything.”
Zhao slipped silently into the hold and woke them. Touching Jian Wen respectfully, but the monk was already awake, meditating. Next he tapped Li Jing and Long, who touched Yula’s shoulder. Last to wake was Fu Zhen. They had their weapons ready but stayed inside, allowing Khun to handle it. Slowly the boat drifted closer to the warship and the seconds ticked by. Despite the cold, trickles of perspiration formed on their faces. They felt a bump and then an exchange of words in the dialect of the region. Hands tightened over weapons and breathing slowed as they prepared to fight their way out.
Then there was a holler and a guttural grunt. Zhao could make out roughly what was being said. And then Khun imitated the posture of a supplicant thankful to his benefactor, thanking the soldiers profusely as the boat went away. Zhao sighed loudly with relief and looked around the cabin at the others. The release of tension was visible. Then Khun spoke loud enough for all to hear, “It’s nothing. Just on routine patrol.” As the fishing boat rowed away, a man peered out of the window of the warship and watched them leave. He nodded with satisfaction at the direction where the boat was heading towards. He signalled and a sailor came toward him, handing him a carrier pigeon.
They rowed the boat for another couple of hours. The time passed slowly and uneventfully as the sun slowly climbed up the sky like a tired old man. You could see it but you could not feel its warmth because of the cold winter air. Twice, someone took over from Khun so the marine could rest. Jian Wen asked him about his past. Khun took a deep breath, aware that he was talking to a ruler of the regime that enslaved him. Somehow, the mantle of a monarch could not be shaken off even by monkhood. He spoke slowly as though there was a chicken bone caught in his throat.
“We were young boys, taken forcefully after watching our parents slaughtered before our eyes, our clan exterminated. And then we were put into an entirely different world, a universe that we did not understand and a place where nobody loved us. Some were made eunuchs, their manhood taken away from them while others like me were sent to the sea.”
Sea life was hard. The naval and marine units were mostly made up of the peasant class or minority groups like Muslims. Unlike the officers who were educated to read the stars, plot the charts and divine the seasons, the grunts pulled the oars, raised the sails and fought the pirates. The poor, the captured and the unfortunate made up the latter. Khun, a Muslim and a person from the mountains who had never seen the sea before, was sent to the navy to be trained as marine. The Ming government had a policy of putting prisoners far away from where they were familiar so that they could never escape. Even Yula became engrossed with his tale of determined survival, of overcoming with his fist and sabre and the enduring friendship between Ma Sanbao and Khun Sa, the man with the nasty scar on his face. When Zheng He rose, he took his best friend with him. Zheng He knew the politics; he, a minority would never be accepted by the Han, so he kept his most trusted man by his side. It turned out to be useful now, for only Khun Sa would stand up against the Eastern Depot on the admiral’s behalf. Jian Wen listened intently to the pain of the people captured in the name of his family with clear compassion on his face. Khun asked him what he thought of his story. Jian Wen bowed his head and apologised. The boat glided silently over the still liquid jade until they could see a bridge and a jetty.
“There. We will stop there for a rest.” Khun pointed to the jetty as he steered the boat toward the wooden platform. Just away from the pier were a collection of huts. There were a scattering of people sitting around under a big banner with the word Cha ‘Tea’. A busy waiter scooted around taking orders and then running into the hut, only to return with steaming, circular bamboo longs ‘cages’. Those were the bamboo round trays that were used to steam buns and dumplings in. This was not a place for heavy meals but for a short rest along a long journey. A dense bamboo forest ringed the huts and the foliage reflected against the still water to create picturesque setting. As Khun tied the boat, Zhao alighted and walked ahead. Fu Zhen followed him. They scanned the hawkers and food stall for suspicious activity before they signalled to the rest. Li Jing escorted Jian Wen while Long Wu brought up the rear. Yula and Li Po followed. People gave them a cursory glance before resuming their eating. Nobody cared about a monk asking for a cup of tea. They sat down and started to put their things on the floor. The waiter came forward eagerly and took their orders; it was simple, plain buns all around. Nothing with meat in it would be served out of respect for Jian Wen. Yula glared at Zhao who did the ordering; she did not consider Jian Wen her lord yet to offer such a great ‘sacrifice’. She immediately signalled the waiter back, calling him crudely, and placed an order of two longs of meat dumplings. Li Po clapped her hands and smiled at Yula while Long looked embarrassed.
“What’s wrong with eating meat?” Yula challenged Zhao.
“Our lord does not eat meat so we would not do so in his presence.”
“I am Mongol. He is not my lord.”
&n
bsp; She turned away from him as though this statement would be good enough to conclude the argument. Zhao glared at Long, silently asking him why he could not control his woman. Li Jing and Fu Zhen laughed at their awkwardness and then Jian Wen stepped in and calmed the situation.
“It is fine. No one will compel you.” He spoke to Yula gently.
As they bantered, they did see the man peering out of the window of the hut intently at them as though he was trying to recognise someone.
“It’s them”. He whispered to the men who stood silently by his side. And all hell broke loose. The other ‘patrons’ burst into action, kicking tables and overturning chairs as they attacked the newly arrived guests. Somehow, broad, military type sabres materialised in their hands. Li Po screamed as a man rushed her, but her father’s lightning reflexes landed a foot in the assailant’s face. At the same time, the Acrobat pushed his daughter away from another slashing weapon as he did a monkey flip to escape the blade before landing on one leg to launch a series of rapid fire blows on the man’s head and chest; he was sure he broke a lot of things there as he gave a sharp cry of aggression that flowed with his qi. He crouched in a fighting stance of the Monkey Fist as he faced the coming attackers. No time to get his weapon, but it was no disadvantage to him. He picked up a chair and hit the first man that came.
