by mag
The train left Chinhai at three o'clock that afternoon, past temples and pagodas, past bedclothes airing on bamboo poles from whitewashed houses, over stone bridges out to rolling hills and a countryside green with summer. There were few people in soft class, and none of them paid any attention to the tall man or the boy with him. If they did they assumed the boy was a younger brother making his first trip on a train, for he kept his face turned away from the other passengers to look out at the passing landscape.
It was after dark when Bethany and Tiger arrived in Hangzhou. The train for Nanjing would not leave until seven the next morning. They spent the night in a small hotel near the railway station.
"I look like a boy," Bethany said when she looked at herself in the mirror over the dresser of their hotel room.
"Then take off your clothes so I'll know you're a woman." Tiger smiled at her.
"A woman who needs a shower." She frowned at herself in the mirror. "I don't look like me anymore, do l?"
"You are you," Tiger said. "Whatever the color of your hair or your skin. Now go and take your shower and when you are finished we will lie together and I will tell you how beautiful I think you are."
Bethany's face softened. She took his hand. "Come shower with me," she said. "We'll bathe each other."
Hand in hand they stepped into the shower. Carefully, tenderly, they washed each other's bodies. Hands lingered over curves and planes, hesitated over places of pleasure, kissed and clung while the water cascaded over them. When it became too much, they stepped out and quickly dried each other.
They had a bed this time, a bed with a mattress that sloped and sagged in the middle. But that didn't matter; Bethany had come home once more to the warmth of Tiger's arms.
At the station the next morning they drank hot tea and ate rolls stuffed with meat and mushrooms. Again, as she had the day before, Bethany kept her head lowered and the cap pulled down over her eyes. From time to time, without thinking, her fingers touched the back of her neck. She felt exposed, and wondered if her hair would ever grow long again.
"Do you think... ?" she started to ask Tiger, then stopped. He was pretending to read a newspaper, but his eyes were narrowed as he scanned every waiting passenger.
Bethany swallowed as she felt the fear that was by now so familiar creep into her body. She saw Tiger stiffen and lower his head as a voice called out over the loudspeaker. "Come," he said, "they're calling our train."
She wanted to look around to find whatever it was that he thought spelled danger. Instead she picked up the new wicker basket that held their few belongings and followed him down the track. They boarded the train, she a few steps behind him. Two men, a man and a woman, and a single man boarded behind them.
When they found their seats Tiger spoke to her in Chinese, his voice impatient, an older brother speaking to his younger brother. Then leaning closer to her whispered in English, "Take whatever you need from the basket and put it in your pockets. Soon the train will begin to move out of the yard. When I speak to you again I want you to get up and walk back to the door. Don't hurry. Just act naturally."
He turned away from her, took a newspaper from the basket, and began to read.
Bethany stared straight ahead, too frightened to speak. The door of the train clanged shut. A voice rang out. She took the dark makeup, eyeliner, a comb and the scarf out of the basket. Steam hissed, the train began to move out through the yard, chugging slowly, past freight cars, signalmen, and workers with lunch pails. Rain spattered the windows as the train began to pick up speed. They were on the outskirts of the town, passing a wooded area.
"Now." The word was so low Bethany could barely hear it. Her mouth was dry, her palms wet. She stood up, and with her head lowered walked slowly to the back of the train. Suddenly Tiger shot around her. He pulled the door open and shoved her out onto the swaying platform.
A shout rang out in the car behind them as Tiger jerked the handle of the platform door and kicked it open. Wind and rain blew in.
The door behind them started to open. Tiger put his foot against it. Bethany saw a man with a gun, his face twisted with anger as he put his shoulder to the door.
"Jump!" Tiger ordered.
Bethany felt a hand in the middle of her back. She screamed, then hurtled through space. The ground came up to meet her. She fell, rolled, and came to a thudding stop against the trunk of a tree.
Bruised, dazed, the breath almost knocked out of her, Bethany stood on shaky legs and clung to the tree for support. She shook her head, trying to get her bearings. Everything had happened so fast. The open door, the ground rushing by, the man with a gun... Tiger! her mind screamed. Where was he? Oh, my God, what if he was still on the train? What if he was wounded or...?
The train chugged farther down the track. As Bethany watched, she saw him leap from the train, hit the ground and roll.
With a strangled cry Bethany ran toward him.
Tiger stood up, waved and began running toward her through the slanting rain. "Are you all right?" he cried when he reached her. He grabbed her shoulders, then moved down her arms to her hands, as though assuring himself that no bones were broken. He touched her face. "You've got a nasty scratch," he said.
"I haven't had much practice jumping off trains." Bethany attempted a smile.
"It was a terrible thing to do to you, but I wasn't sure until we were on the train that the man I spotted watching us in the station was on to us." Tiger pushed the rain-damp hair back from his face. "After you jumped I wrestled the gun out of his hand and knocked him down—that's what took me so long."
"They're trying to kill us," Bethany said. "But that doesn't make sense, Tiger. We know where the dragon is; if they kill us they lose the dragon."
"Not us, Bethany. Me. It's me they want out of the way because they think they'll be able to force you to lead them to the statue." Tiger put his hands on her shoulders. "That's why they tried to kidnap you that night in Tsingyun, and that's why they forced you into the car the other day."
"You're scaring me," she said.
"Good, I want you to be scared. I want you to know how serious this is." Tiger looked around. "We've got to find shelter. Come on, let's head for that stand of trees."
But first they went back to where she had landed to find her cap. By that time the rain had slowed to a mean, misty drizzle. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the sky and a cold wind blew through the trees. They walked for over an hour before they found a deserted shed.
"I suppose we'll have to take what shelter we can find," Tiger said. "Let's try it."
The walls were made of mud brick. A broken half-door hung on one rusted hinge. But inside the shed was warm and dry. The smell, not unpleasant of animals that may have once sheltered there, clung to the straw strewn on the rough wooden floor.
"We'll spend the night here." Tiger looked around. "Tomorrow morning we'll try to find a road and transportation."
Bethany nodded as she sank down on a pile of straw, accepting the arrangement without complaint. So much had happened to her since she'd left home that spending the night in a deserted barn almost seemed normal.
When it grew dark the rain began again, slapping hard against the straw roof. They leaned their backs against the rough wall of the barn. Tiger put his arms around Bethany. They talked of many things, but not about the golden dragon.
He thought that now, after today, they might have lost their pursuers. That's why he'd gotten on the train, although he suspected one of the men in the station might be after them. He and Bethany would stay away from the larger cities and they'd try to take a boat from somewhere along the Yangtze rather than from Nanjing. No one knew they were headed for Chungtai. If they could get there without any more trouble they'd be home free.
Tiger rested his chin against the top of Bethany's head. We will get the dragon, he thought. We will return to Tsingyun by a different route, and when we have rested we will go home. Home to Hong Kong.
When morning came they walk
ed across the still damp fields until they found a road, and finally a man with an ox cart. Tiger explained that he and his younger brother, who could not speak, were on their way to the Yangtze River basin. He also said they'd had no food since the day before and that he would be glad to pay for whatever the man could offer them and for a ride in the cart. The man dug into his knapsack, drew out two pears and a few chestnuts, and gestured to the back of the cart.
It was a morning Bethany knew she would always remember. The sky was clear, the countryside washed clean by the rain. Her body was stiff and sore from the fall she'd taken the day before. But she was alive, the sun shone on her face, and she was with Tiger.
Late that night they arrived at a farm on the outskirts of Nanjing. The man with the cart, happy with the money Tiger had paid him for the ride and the food, said, "My farm is humble, but there is room if you want to sleep here for the night. My wife will give you supper."
"We would be most honored," Tiger said as he helped Bethany out of the cart. "But please let me pay for our lodging."
That night, by the light of one flickering candle, they ate rice and vegetables in a thick black bean sauce. It was a simple meal, served on two cracked plates, but it was wonderful. Later the farmer's wife gave them a candle and showed them to their room.
It was filled with sacks of grain and baskets of onions. In one corner there was a rolled-up straw mat.
"That's our bed." Tiger shook his head. "I'm sorry, Bethany, but I'm afraid this it for tonight." He put the candle on the floor.
"A hard bed is supposed to be good for your back," Bethany said as she stretched. "It's warm and it's dry and I like the smell of onions." She went to stand by the open window. "It's so quiet," she whispered. "I never knew any place could be this quiet."
Tiger stood beside her, his arm around her waist, unable for a moment to speak. He held her close and together they looked out at the dark, silent, sweet-smelling night.
Chapter 16
Tiger and Bethany found a raft loaded with timber on its way to a sawmill in Chungtai at the village of Tungling. At first the boatman, a scrawny man in his seventies, shook his head. "No," he said, "I cannot take passengers."
"I will pay you well." Tiger took money from his pocket. "Enough to keep you and your family for a year."
But still the man hesitated. "You can take a river steamer from Nanjing. Why would you want to take my raft?"
"We are not in Nanjing, we are in Tungling. You have a motor on your raft. With it you will make better time than the steamer because you will not have to slow through the gorges."
"On the steamer you would have a cabin." The old man gestured to a bamboo lean-to. "That will be your accommodation on my raft."
"It will do very well for my brother and me." Tiger reached into his pocket again. "Now you have enough money to keep you for the next two years," he said.
"You must want to get to Chungtai very badly." The boatman pocketed the money.
"How long will the trip take?"
"Two or three days, depending on the currents. Come then, if you are coming, I am ready to cast off."
"Very well, and thank you." Tiger looked at Bethany. With a nod of his head he motioned her onto the raft, taking from her the basket of fruit and bottled water they had bought that morning.
Keeping her head down, Bethany nodded to the boatman and went to sit in front of the lean-to.
The morning was pleasantly warm; the water was smooth. Bethany had read about the Yangtze, but it was hard to believe that she was here, about to embark on a trip up the longest river in Asia.
There was a never ending panorama of life along the great river. Hour by hour the landscape unfolded before them. There was endless traffic too—other rafts, sane of them carrying passengers and produce, junks with red sails taut in the breeze, sampans, barges, a passenger steamer.
Most of the time Tiger stood beside the boatman. His face was thoughtful, pensive. Their journey had almost come to an end. Tomorrow, or the day after, tfeey would be in Chungtai. He was sure now that they had lost the men who had been pursuing them. There was a chance someone would watch the stops along the Yangtze where passenger steamers docked, but it would be impossible for them to observe all of the traffic on this three-thousand-mile river.
Even if somehow the men followed them to Chung-tai they could never know about the monastery. He and Bethany would go there as soon as they arrived in the city. Then the golden dragon would be theirs.
Tiger's hand tightened around the keys in his pocket, the keys that would unlock the secret of the dragon. Finding it was not as important to him as it had once been. He had a bad feeling about the dragon now; he'd had it ever since that night in the garden when his mother had told Bethany and himself about the warlord and his son. The golden dragon was a symbol of love, his mother had said. Yet men had killed to possess it.
Tiger looked at Bethany. She was sitting in front of the lean-to, chin resting on her knees as she gazed out at the great river. With her hair shorn she looked very young and fragile. But he knew now that Bethany wasn't as fragile as she looked. She'd been exposed to dangers, and to a totally new culture, not the Chinese culture that tourists experienced, but the China that existed beyond the tourist hotels, the temples and the gardens. She'd slept on a bed of straw in a peasant home and on the floor of a barn without a complaint. She faced each new experience with a courage that Tiger admired more than he could ever tell her.
As he watched Bethany, Tiger thought of his love for her. He would never have known her if it hadn't been for the dragon. And he knew that, although he didn't want it, he would get it for her. He looked out over the river. He worried that after they found it Bethany would no longer need him, that she would go back to her own country where he could never follow.
For a moment Tiger felt the chill of desperation because there were times when he didn't know who he was, whether he was Chinese or American. In Hong Kong it didn't matter. He was only a man, a man who was able to enjoy what was best of both the East and of the West. But he didn't think Bethany would be happy there; a part of her would always long for the sights and sounds of her America.
At noon Tiger and Bethany sat near the lean-to while they ate the fruit they had purchased that morning. Later he fished and that evening, when the traffic on the river slowed, the boatman tied the raft to a small dock. Over a charcoal brazier the boatman cooked the fish Tiger had caught that day and triumphantly brought out two bottles of beer. Together the three of them watched the sun set over the Yangtze, and later, while the two men talked, Bethany crawled into the lean-to and went to sleep.
Our journey is almost over, she thought as she lay looking up through cracks in the bamboo slats. The dragon is almost ours. She closed her eyes and finally, to the putt-putt rhythm of the motor, went to sleep. She dreamed of Flowering Peach and of the handsome young poet who was her lover. And as Bethany slept it seemed to her that she could hear the sad, sweet music of a lute.
On the evening of the second day they entered the placid waters near Changtai.
"It is late," the boatman said. "We will anchor here for the night. Tomorrow we will go on to Changtai."
To Changtai and the golden dragon. Tiger looked at Bethany. Our journey has almost ended, my love, he thought. Tomorrow we will find the dragon.
* * *
Changtai, on the south bank of the Yangtze, was a busy port. The old city walls, dating back to the Han Dynasty, no longer existed, but still the city, with temples and shrines, and pagodas set beside glistening lakes, had a feeling of antiquity.
"We are here at last, " Tiger said as he and Bethany stepped ashore. He turned to wave to the boatman who had let them off further down the bank, away from the more commercial part of the docks. "Let's try to find a restaurant, then we will ask about the monastery." He hesitated. "Or would you like to rest today? We could find a hotel and go to the monastery tomorrow."
Bethany shook her head. As much as she longed for a bath
and a change of clothes, nothing was as important as finding the dragon. "Let's go to the monastery," she said.
Almost angrily Tiger took her arm, then he looked around, trying to get his bearings. They walked for several minutes and when they found a restaurant that he thought might be acceptable, he led Bethany inside. He ordered for both of them, noodles, baked fish and hot tea, and when it was served he said, "We must talk seriously now, Bethany."
Her gray eyes regarded him suspiciously. "Yes?" She spooned up a mouthful of noodles.
"I think we've lost the men who have been following us."
"Thank goodness."
"But we must go cautiously, just in case." Bethany nodded. "I understand."
Tiger rested his chopsticks on the side of his bowl. "Are you sure of what we're doing, Bethany?" he asked in a low voice. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
"Go through with it? With finding the dragon?" Her brows came together in a frown. "What are you talking about? Of course I want to go through with it. My God, Tiger, we've been through so much, we've risked so much. How can you even think of giving up when when we're this close?"
"We wouldn't be giving up, Bethany. We'd be letting go."
"I don't see the difference," she said angrily. "Our fathers risked their lives for the golden dragon, Tiger. They wanted us to have it. We can't stop now, not when we're so close."
"All right," Tiger said in a quiet voice. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
They ate the meal in silence, and when they were finished Tiger asked the waiter about the monastery.
"It is near Red Hill," the waiter told him. "You will pass the Endless Sky Pavilion. Just beyond the Pavilion you will see another hill in the distance. That is the Hill of Eternal Spring where the historical Museum of Oshan with its wealth of artifacts is located. To your right you will see the monastery."
Tiger thanked and paid the waiter. When they left the restaurant he said, "We'll take a taxi, but I'm not sure how we'll get back to town again." He took Bethany's arm, but still he hesitated. They were almost at their destination; why did he hesitate? In a little while the dragon, the golden dragon that men killed to own, would be theirs.
