by Jeremy Han
The Acrobat bent down as though he was trying to adjust his footwear. At that moment, he threw a dart at the buffalo pulling a cart filled with fruits and vegetables for loading onto the ships. The animal bucked in pain and reared. The driver had to pull hard on the harness and cracked the whip to control the animal, but it failed to control the beast. It created the effect Li Jing wanted. It caused a panic as the group of people just behind their party rushed forward to avoid being crushed by the kicking animal. The ripple effect created a wave and forced the group of monks forward, pushed from behind. The guards saw it and tried to contain the monks by waving their arms and swords in a threatening manner. The lead monk, an old man tried to present his pass to the officer but was pushed forward. Li Jing added some dramatic effect to it by shouting hysterically about being crushed to death by a cow. It added to the chaos and soon the whole group was pushing forward into a crush. Yong ignored the thrashing animal and tried to scrutinise the faces entering the city. It was in vain as the orderly queue that allowed him to look at each face disintegrated. He cursed and shouted for the men below to maintain order but nobody paid him any heed. The guards had no choice but let them through before mass hysteria broke out. As long as someone flashed a pass at his face, the officer waved him through. Zhao added to the drama of it, crying for help. With some shouts and pushes, Zhao Qi and his party passed through the city gate and entered Quanzhou literally under the nose of the Eastern Depot.
Zhao thanked heaven that neither Ji Gang nor any senior agent was there; An’s sudden departure was unbelievable serendipitous. He would have seen the ruse and ordered the gates to shut with immediate effect and the ploy would have failed. Thankfully, Yong was not that experienced.
SIXTY NINE
The crowded city was disorientating. There were so many people milling about, each in their unique ethnic clothing and colours, going about one thousand and one different activities. The accompanying din added to the vibrancy of the place, echoing the life-force of the city. Hawkers made the most of the human influx joining Zheng He’s fleet. They sold everything from food to talismans that would aid the journey ahead. Prostitutes called from second storey balconies to those walking below, waving bright silk handkerchiefs at prospective clients. They shouted enticing obscenities, made suggestive body movements and laughed. A lady even took off her clothes in broad day light. Some of the men walking by would call back while some would blush. It seemed that the whores knew how to spot the new visitors – those who just entered the city. They gladly welcomed them.
Jian Wen watched with amusement as the whores called out to the group of monks as they walked passed the brothel. The oldest profession in the world knew no limits to its marketing efforts. The monks walked on impassively while some tradesmen waved enthusiastically at the women before rushing up the narrow wooden stairs to where they were. Some food sellers offered him skewered meat, which he declined politely. Li Po looked hungrily at the roasting meat, but her father urged her on. She pouted and looked at the ground. The Acrobat put an arm over her shoulder to comfort her, but the tension lines on his face revealed the dilemma on his face. He clearly wanted his daughter to savour the flavours of the new city, but knew they could not afford to linger. They could not do what ordinary people did like buy a snack, chat with the locals or share a joke with a stranger. They were not here for a tour. Jian Wen observed the silent exchange between daughter and father, took a deep breath at the thought of what others went through because of him. They stopped for a while as a convoy of bullocks carrying grain intersected their path on the way to the pier. A patrol of soldiers followed. The soldiers carried spears and sabres and looked alert. The officer leading them did not just follow the convoy, but kept his eyes roving through the crowds. He was looking for something. Fortunately, Jian Wen did not stand out in a group of monks, so the officer’s eyes just swept over him harmlessly and the patrol continued on its way, the crunching of their boots fading.
Zhao had earlier told them he did not know where Kai Yuan Temple was. The monks just told him to follow them as they were going there too. Always wary, he did not like the idea of following a group of strangers but knew he had no choice. He did not know if the monks were a blessed coincidence or a part of the anti-Yong Le network helping them. Jian Wen told him to thank the heavens and go: do not think so much. Too many things were out of their control to worry about. Still the commander frowned: security was his responsibility and having come so far, he was afraid bad luck would kick in. He knew too many operations failed simply because of a random occurrence: A sneeze at the wrong time, a fart, or a chance meeting with someone who said the wrong thing at the right time or the right thing at the wrong time. Still, he trailed the group of grey robed clerics through the crowd until the masses thinned and they could walk and breathe a little more freely. From a distance, they could see two pagodas towering over the trees. The monks seemed to be heading that way. They passed a group of bearded, turbaned men who wore white, long robes over long pants. They chatted in a foreign language which Zhao could not understand as he tried to observe them secretly before he concluded they could not be Dong Chang agents.
Of course they are not! He chided himself. He was getting paranoid. He realised that his nerves were as taut as bow string. He forced himself to relax as the group of men turned into a strangely designed building called Qingjing Si. He realised they were Arabs. Quanzhou was a multi-racial city that attracted people of all races and religions due to its trade. It was known as the starting point of the Maritime Silk Road of the South. It stretched all the way to Arabia and Africa, bringing silk and tea to the great spice hubs.
“Onions.” Li Po pointed out to her father and giggled. “The top of that building looks like an onion.” Li Jing turned and looked at the mosque and smiled at her daughter. “That’s a Yisilan temple.” Yisilan is a loose translation of the word Islam.
“It’s beautiful. So unique. It’s simple and clean.” She remarked to her father. She admired the green marble that seemed to radiate coolness despite the warm sun. The Acrobat gladly engaged his daughter in conversation, happy that he could indulge her wonder of a new place. “This design is from the western regions. No one really knows where they originate from or why they look like onions, but many say it is even more beautiful inside. They have great halls made of marble, high ceilings and secret chambers.” He continued after a pause, “It is said that there are great kingdoms and civilisations in the far west. The people there are rich and cultured; their buildings are all as grand as this.” He explained like a tour guide.
“Wow. Can we go in for a look?”
“We can’t, child.” Li Jing said to Li Po, immediately regretting what he had to say. “You know it is dangerous to linger.”
Li Po expected it.
The two pagodas got larger and larger. Kai Yuan Temple beckoned them. Kaiyuan si was built during the Tang dynasty. It had several halls that housed great Buddhists treasures accumulated since the founding of the great temple. The temple got its name as it was established during the Kaiyuan reign during the Tang dynasty. Its main hall held statues of great workmanship. Flying around the sitting golden Buddha, where all devotees pray to as they enter the Great Hall, were the apsaras. Carved from wood and painted in bright, lifelike colours, these mythical dancers were carefully constructed in such a way that they were extensions of the pillars and beams that supported the Great Hall so that they looked like they were flitting around the great pillars in aerial jest. When a devotee looked up, the apsaras smiled benignly at them from all corners of the Hall. They were the companion of the gods. With thousands of candles flickering, the shadows of the nymphs danced for them.
The temple was the largest in the region and also the most important. It held thousands of sutras and relics handed down since its founding. Every day, devotees enter the temple to pray, and monks from all over the empire visited its great libraries to study. Each time Zheng He’s fleet departed from Quanzhou, monks from the templ
e would join the admiral on his quest to bring the glory and culture of the Ming to the dark lands beyond the shores of the Ming empire. This was the place the delegation of monks was heading to.
The group of monks passed through the gates of the temple and entered its compound from the side gate. They passed through a garden before they stepped into the courtyard of the temple. An acolyte sweeping the floor came over and spoke to the leader of the delegation; he pointed them toward the Main Hall. They walked under the shade of a row of mulberry trees before they were directed into a smaller chamber. Jian Wen looked around in awe. This chamber was a wonder compared to the cliff-side temple where he lived for eighteen years. That place was designed to escape the eyes of men, but this one was made to stand out. They sat on comfortable, cushioned chairs. The walls were decorated with paintings and the calligraphy of prominent monks. On the tables were decorative religious items. After a while, a senior monk came out. He seemed to know who Jian Wen was as he came to him straight and bowed.
“Please follow me brother.” Then he left. The other monks remained in the room. Jian Wen and his bodyguards followed the monk as he walked silently out of the room. They followed him without a word until they came to the great pagoda. The monk opened the door and indicated, “Please.” Then he led the way up. The great pagodas of Kaiyuan si were constructed with stone instead of wood to withstand earthquakes. It was build around a solid core of rock that extended deep into the ground so that its foundations were unmovable. The walls bore intricate carvings of legends that depicted strange creatures and otherworldly deities either locked in celestial combat or bringing succour to mankind. It also told the stories of the various Buddhist saints in stone. Jian Wen admired the masterpieces as he climbed the spiralling staircases. He fingered them, feeling their roughness and enjoyed the sensation of touching timeless art. It was as though seeing was not enough; the carvings had to be touched to impart its richness to man. The sensation brought him a sense of eternity, a reminder of how temporal life was compared to truths.
Finally, after a long spiralling climb, they arrived at a room that was sparsely furnished. The monk who led them up bowed and left without a word, his footsteps receding. There was a table in the middle of the room and on it, an envelope. Jian Wen opened it and read aloud.
“The fleet will sail in two days at dawn. Do not leave the pagoda until then. Food and water will be provided. Find the boat with a green banner.”
It was not signed by anyone. The monk who escorted them did not mention his name. Jian Wen looked around and saw that the room was big enough for them all to sleep in. There were mats on the floor for sleeping. On the walls, there were candle holders and he assumed someone would come to light the candles for them when the sun set. On the side there was a balcony and he went there to get some fresh air. The pagoda was almost fifty meters high so he had quite a good view. The sun was setting now over the hills and he could see that the crowds on the streets had thinned. Shops were closing and people were going home. The activity around the temple compound was slowing down as well. There were no more pilgrims. He saw the junior monks close the main doors and bolted them for the night. Another monk went around lighting the lanterns for the evening. He heard footsteps again. The monk who led them here appeared with a tray of food – mantou and flasks of water. The cleric set it down on the table and then he lighted the candles. The room brightened and then he left, his footsteps receding into the darkness. He neither gave his name nor greeted anyone. If it wasn’t for his initial instructions to ‘follow him’, Jian Wen would have thought he was mute. He looked at the departing man, casually wondering what made him choose monkhood, much less a monk involved in treason.
They ate in silence. There was nothing more to be said or done except to wait. Two more days. When they finished eating, Jian Wen looked out and saw the stars gleaming over the city like diamonds strewn over a piece of black velvet. With nothing else to do, he unrolled the mat and went to sleep. Zhao beckoned the Farmer over and together they went to the balcony. He whispered his instructions to his subordinate and the man nodded. The next morning at the crack of dawn, the small man made his way out of the temple unseen while everyone else was still asleep.
SEVENTY
Ma Hun wondered why the commander had ordered him to guard the mosque like a cat sitting outside a mouse hole. He had put a tight surveillance around the place and had all its ins and outs reported to him, but still there was nothing suspicious. Even Ji Gang had come down to inspect and found nothing lacking in his surveillance. With just two days before the fleet sailed, he wondered if there was a mistake in their planning and assumptions. Although in two days their operations in Quanzhou would be over, and any failure would fall on the commander and not on him, he did not want to let this chance for glory pass over. He still dreamt of being the one to capture the emperor, or at least, to slay the emperor’s formidable pet tiger. That would really show his uppity seniors up.
He knew he had been passed over several times for assignments as the commander favoured Yong Ju. Even his own partner An, who was supposed to guide him and teach him, despised him. It was evident enough that they put him to guard the mosque; a second tier defence compared to watching the city gates. Yong, under An’s guidance, was given control of the city gates and its garrison while all he had was a platoon of soldiers. As the sun set over Quanzhou, Ma sat down at his command post and pondered the injustice of it all. He was as skilled as the rest: in his own opinion, even better. He was not dumb like those foot soldiers out there doing the donkey work; he was an imperial agent after all. He just could not see that his arrogance, his cruelty and his diva-like attitude pissed everyone off. Instead, he blamed it on team politics; they were jealous of him. They knew he would eventually do something that would surpass them all so they wanted to find ways and means to thumb him down while they could. He would show them. He really would. He would be the one to capture the emperor’s prey. He imagined their looks when the Son of Heaven bestowed honour on him while they could only stand aside and watch. He smiled at the thought as he indulged in a bit of day dreaming. Guarding the mosque was so boring.
One of the men reported to him with the surveillance log. He accepted it without even a grunt, not willing to acknowledge the peasant soldier’s presence. He studied the log and went through the day’s events: Nothing except for a bunch of foreign looking men who entered the mosque. Foreign looking men with turbans and beards entered and left the mosque frequently; it had been like that for the last few hundred years. During his stay in Quanzhou, he had come to learn that they were Arab traders. They hailed from a far away land in the west, and came to trade in the city. They were also known to travel south to trade in the precious spices found there. Their religion was the same as the Hui tribe but they were ethnically different. But no Buddhist monk or suspicious Han people entered. He had learnt to differentiate them from the Han Chinese; the Arabs had stronger features, more facial hair and bigger eyes. He was not stupid or lazy; he had studied the place, its history and context to better decipher what he saw and interpret it correctly. Another boring and fruitless day, he thought. However, he was diligent enough to mentally sieve through everything he saw. He needed to match what he observed with what the guards saw to pick out any inconsistencies; any tell-tale detail that told him his quarry was near. He might be unlikeable, but he was competent.
As he sifted through his memory, he recalled seeing a group of Buddhist monks heading somewhere. They walked passed the Qingjing Si and continued down the street. He did not know where. At first, he dismissed it and went on to pick other details but somehow the image of the grey-clad clerics came back; there was something significant about them but he could not figure it out. None of the monks entered the mosque. They walked in an orderly fashion like all monks do and headed west of the city. Not knowing bugged him, so he got up and gave instructions to his men to watch the mosque before he went out.
He followed the trail alone. He passed the
mosque and followed the path the monks had taken. The streets now were dark and there were few people going about. Some street hawkers lingered, hoping for a late night client, and some other dubious characters of the night watched him as he walked; no one approached him as his body language announced he was not someone to trifle with. He passed houses with bright lanterns hanging outside as was the custom when it got dark. Somewhere in the distance, he heard shouting, followed by a dog barking. The city was far from asleep. He felt a gust of wind and looked up; the full moon was being swallowed up by the clouds. The air smelled moist; it was going to rain that night.
He walked for awhile and then he saw the two looming pagodas. Everyone knew what they were: Kaiyuan Si. He stood there for awhile and wondered what his instincts were trying to tell him. What could be going on in the temple? Should he go in? It struck him suddenly. Where would you hide a monk? In a Buddhist temple of course! He walked quickly around the temple, trying to get a better look and then he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw a monk carrying a lantern. He was lighting up the other lanterns. An acolyte. Ma judged from the monk’s youthful appearance. Ma observed him complete his duties and saw the row of orbs light up, creating a glow along the wall of the temple. Ma Hun went to him and asked politely,
“Did any monks enter your temple today?” The monk looked at him puzzled: what kind of question was this? Monks entering a temple? The largest temple in the region?? It took a second for the cleric to respond to what seemed a stupid question.
