by Aya Ling
"We moved," Little Jade said. "She said the west wing wasn't peaceful enough. Why, there's only a couple of servants who pass through all day! It's not like we're setting off firecrackers or anything. I told you, she's paranoid."
The east wing was actually nicer, in Hong's opinion. Tucked away behind a group of artificial rocks and bamboo, with a small pond and a wooden bridge, and a round-stone paved path leading to the building, it was almost like entering a different world. The rest of the Guo residence was too flashy and extravagant and well, just not as refined.
Mrs. Guo's new quarters consisted of a pretty two-storied building with black-lacquered doors and windows with intricate bamboo lattice-work. What arrested Hong's attention was not the elegance of the residence, but that four women ranging from late teens to middle-age were patrolling the entrance. Their attire—plain cotton robes with the bare minimum of ornaments—showed that they were no ordinary servants. One had two daggers fastened to her belt—she must be adept at fighting with both hands. Another had the hilt of a broad sword jutting from her back, which indicated that the sword was so heavy that it couldn't be strapped to her waist. But it was one young woman carrying an ordinary-looking sword that caught Hong's attention. It was Flying Swallow.
"Were they selected from the bodyguard competition?" she asked Little Jade.
"Where else could they be from? Mistress said that she was afraid of thieves taking the wrong route and ending up here instead. But if I were a thief, I certainly wouldn't choose this part. It's nice, but not half as magnificent as the parlour or the master's quarters."
The inside was tastefully furnished. A beautiful, expensive-looking screen stand with exquisite gold-and-silver embroidery stood in a corner. A porcelain vase filled with fresh flowers was placed on a polished table top. Everything was sparkling clean, possibly to prevent the expecting mother from catching any germs.
Mrs. Guo was reclining on a low couch covered with cream-silk cushions. A ceramic bowl, half filled with rice and chicken, and a pair of chopsticks were set near her. She looked surprised when Hong and Little Jade entered.
Hong curtsied. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Guo. I hope that you have been doing better since we last met." It was a lie, however. Mrs. Guo's eyes bore a hollow, dejected look, and her cheeks were sallow and colourless. She looked as though she hadn't eaten for a long time.
"You're… aren't you Lynn's maid? Have you come with a message from her?"
"Yes," Hong said, deciding to use her mistress as an excuse for now. "There is something important that I must tell you."
"Is it about Fang?" Mrs. Guo said anxiously. "I've told her, I've talked to Father but he wouldn't listen to me."
"It isn't just that. I have come to ask for your insight in something else," Hong said. Slowly, she quoted, "'Your eyes shine more beautifully than the diamonds on your throat…'"
Mrs. Guo's face suddenly became ashen. "Wh… what did you just say?"
"A line of poetry, Mistress," Little Jade said, her expression clueless. "Is the poetry so very bad?"
"Little Jade." Mrs. Guo's voice was gentle yet firm. "Kindly drop by the market and fetch me some chrysanthemum tea, would you? I feel a headache coming."
"But Mistress, won't jasmine tea do? The chrysanthemum tea always has a long queue."
"I prefer chrysanthemums."
"All right." Little Jade gave in. "Shall I call in Little Emerald and Little Plum to wait upon you while I'm gone?"
"No. Hong will keep me company. If there's the need, she will call the others to help me."
Once Little Jade departed, Mrs. Guo told Hong to close the door securely and lock it.
"Who are you?" she said, pinning her with a searching look. "Did you come… on his behalf? Have you come to deliver a message from him? I've made it quite clear to him that I won't leave the Guos."
"I have no idea what your Ladyship is talking about," Hong said calmly. "I merely got the poem from Opal's younger brother. It strikes me as peculiar that a servant maid should receive a love poem tucked away in an ancient scroll, so I came to ask you."
"Opal?" Mrs. Guo still looked suspicious. "What does Opal have anything to do with it?"
"Have you not gifted your maid old scrolls with prefaces written by famous poets?"
"Never. Opal knows nothing of poetry. I have never given her anything—she could buy everything she needed from her wages. Why do you ask?"
Hong related what she had heard at Opal's family. Mrs. Guo stared.
"But… I don't understand… why would he give Opal those books? It doesn't make sense. And now that Opal is dead…"
Hong didn't understand either. "Who is this 'he' Your Ladyship refers to?"
Mrs. Guo hesitated. "No… no one of importance."
"Then do you have any idea where Opal got her poetry scrolls from? The ones that she used to pay off the debt of her family? It seems strange that she would have access to those things, if your Ladyship did not bestow them."
"I…" Mrs. Guo bit her lip and looked around. "All… all right. Since you are so concerned about saving your master, I'll tell you. But it won't make any difference. I may not even survive the day after."
Hong was astonished. "What do you mean? Why is your life in danger?"
"Play something for me." Mrs. Guo pointed to a lute in the corner. Lowering her voice, she whispered, "I do not wish others to know."
Hong understood immediately. Not only would the lute music blot out their voices, but it would also offer her an excuse for her visit. She crossed to the end of the room, picked up the lute, and started strumming a tune.
"It started when I was a child," Mrs. Guo said, averting her eyes. "I had a friend brought up in a good family of scholars. We played games, we shared meals, we had outings in the park. He asked me to marry him when we were ten, and I said yes." A pink flush stained her cheeks—for a second she looked remarkably beautiful, justifying her reputation.
"But Father didn't approve of him. My… ex-lover… was talented, but he could also be very emotional. I admired his verses, but sometimes he scared me with his mood swings. He was not exactly poor, but he was unlikely to provide for me indefinitely. When I was fifteen, Father forbade him to visit me anymore, unless he came accompanied by his nanny. Opal helped me; she arranged clandestine meetings for us at a secret hiding place while Yao stood watch."
Opal and Yao. Both of them dead.
"It wasn't easy." Mrs. Guo wiped tears from her eyes. "I was so afraid of being caught. Father can be extremely strict. Finally, my ex-lover said he was going to the capital to take the scholar exams. If he received the highest scores and offered a position at court, it would be easier for him to ask for my hand. But he failed. Opal told me that he was sick during travelling and didn't perform to the best of his abilities. But I knew. When I was younger, I thought he was incredibly talented, but after all these years of schooling, I knew that he wasn't as brilliant as he thought. He might have done better if he had studied harder, but he was, well, egoistical. And so his ability remained mediocre.
"When he failed the exams, he was devastated. I knew there was no hope for us. He tried to see me once, to convince me to elope with him. I refused, but he wouldn't give up. One day, Opal told me that Yao gave him a sound thrashing, which made him stop bothering me. I felt horribly sorry—Opal said Yao had broken a couple of ribs—so I risked the wrath of my father and went to see him. But when I arrived, his house was empty. The neighbours told me that the old nanny who brought him up had taken him to District Hwa-Lu; she had family there."
It was becoming clearer to Hong now. So this was the reason behind Opal's and Yao's deaths. They had most likely extracted bribes from the ex-lover—the poem in the valuable scrolls was the evidence—so that he could meet Mrs. Guo in secret. Since he eventually couldn't marry Mrs. Guo, he had come for revenge. And he most probably had, by chance, come by the Lost Manual. Old Man Liu had said anyone could become powerful by learning the secret techniques of the Manual.
Mrs. Guo coughed; she had talked for some time. Hong quickly set her lute aside and poured her some water before resuming the song.
"Thank you." Mrs. Guo dabbed her eyes with a silken handkerchief. "I thought I had put him out of my life, but he came back. He found that I was married, and tried to break in to the Guo residence. It was fortunate that because the compound was so huge, he didn't find me immediately. In fact, the dogs were alerted and started barking. He got away, but also stole some jewellery as well. I didn't know that it was him at that time, however. It wasn't until I saw him during the Cold Food Festival that I knew."
Hong struck a discordant note on the lute. When Mrs. Guo had suddenly fell sick, Hong had assumed it was due to her pregnancy. Could her sickness have been triggered by the sudden appearance of her ex-lover? Hong still remembered how white and trembling she had been.
"When everyone's attention was drawn to the boats, someone put his hand over my mouth and dragged me behind the tree. I couldn't believe it was him. He was changed, oh, he looked so… so bitter. He asked that I come away with him. I told him no, I was with child, but he wouldn't listen. As long as I promised to leave my husband, he'd forgive me for turning my back on him. He was going to drag me away, but I happened to throw up violently. And there were too many people in the park. He decided not to risk it.
"'Seven days. I'll give you seven days to make up your mind. I will penetrate the walls of your residence and find you.' And he picked up a fist-sized rock from the ground, held it for a moment, and the rock turned into dust. As he scattered the dust before me, he said, 'This is what I am capable of. Whatever bodyguards you hire, will their heads be harder to destroy than this rock?'
"He left. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't find out where he was without owning up to my past. All I could do was beg for my father-in-law to employ more proetection. It wasn't hard to convince him, because I could be carrying the first son for the Guo family."
The last note of the song faded away, as though echoing with her words.
Silence fell over the room. Then Hong spoke.
"So he will come tonight?"
"He will." There was no hesitation in Mrs. Guo's voice, only a weary resignation.
Hong thought hard. There was no time to conduct a search in the city—even if there were, to find a man within tens of thousands was impossible. The only solution was to confront him tonight and make him surrender.
Yet this was no simple task either. Hong was uncertain that she could do better than Yao. She had never personally witnessed the power of the Lost Manual, but from her sifu's description, she wasn't sure that she could kill the ex-lover, even when armed with her flying weapons and the newly acquired hollowed pens.
There were other bodyguards present; surely the ex-lover couldn't make it past them. And Mrs. Guo had changed her residence. He might not even make it to her quarters without confronting the dozen or so skilled fighters.
But Hong also needed to confront him, to question him about the Lost Manual. Old Man Liu was desperate to find it. What if the ex-lover didn't relent? What if he chose to bargain with her instead? Or in the worst-case scenario, what if she was no match for the Lost Manual and got killed in the process? She wouldn't know unless she tried.
"Let me stay here for one night," Hong said. "I will also stand guard for you."
Mrs. Guo put a hand over her mouth. "Why? Why are you doing this for me?"
"Because this man is very likely the same person who killed Opal and Yao. If he is caught, then Opal's husband will know that his wife's murderer is brought to justice. Moreover, my master Fang will be cleared of his name and released from jail. Also my friend Mr. Liu."
"You have no idea of his strength," Mrs. Guo said, her lip trembling. "Besides, we have found a good number of new bodyguards. If they cannot protect me, what more can you do? I know you are worried about your master, but honestly, this is unnecessary."
"I'm sure what he did was no more than some form of black magic," Hong lied. "I once met a Taoist priest who taught me how to deal with black magic. Your ex-lover threatens, but he is no more than a paper tiger. I will handle him."
She laid down the lute. She did not look like a servant at all, with her iron-like resolve in front of a woman who was much higher in rank. Mrs. Guo opened her mouth for a second, hesitated, and firmly pressed her lips together. This was no time for questions.
"Please send a servant to the governor's to tell them I am not returning until tomorrow," Hong said. "And now, let us work out a plan to protect you tonight."
TWENTY FOUR
There were advantages to masquerading as a pregnant woman, Hong found out. The loose folds of Mrs. Guo's robes provided perfect concealments for her weapons. Although she had not brought much with her when arriving at the Guo residence, it was easy to find makeshift weapons in the lady's room. Hairpins with sharp edges, not to mention needles from the pincushion, a couple of ink stones on the desk. Speaking of ink stones… Hong brought out the hollowed pens and laid them on the desk. They might come in handy when dealing with a murderer who had mastered an ancient power.
She paused to look at her reflection in the mirror. She was of a slenderer build than Mrs. Guo, obviously, but dressed up in the lady's fine clothes and having her hair done in the style of a married woman, plus the dim light of oil lamps at night—she hoped that the killer wouldn't discover that she was fake.
Mrs. Guo probably suspected that she was no ordinary servant maid. But what could Hong do to catch the murderer? It was either walk away or risk Mrs. Guo's suspicion. Besides, she would be leaving the governor's place soon.
Hong touched her cheek. It was heavily made up with perfumed face powders and rouge made from vermilion. She had taken liberties with Mrs. Guo's makeup box and tried to paint her face to resemble the magistrate's daughter. It wasn't easy. Mrs. Guo was a natural beauty; even without makeup, her features were symmetrical and perfect. But Hong had to apply cosmetics to make herself look more attractive. She knew well enough that she was no beauty, but sufficient makeup could enhance her otherwise average features. If one did not look closely, or dwelt on her voice and music, she might pass for a beauty.
And yet, her heart whispered, and yet the young master still wanted her. The thought of him still incarcerated fuelled her resolve. Hong made sure her weapons were all intact and sat down beside the table, her back facing the window.
She would catch the killer tonight.
Mrs. Guo was huddled in a small adjacent room on the second floor. Flying Swallow had been assigned to protect her. Although Hong would have liked to have all four women guarding Mrs. Guo, it would seem strange if there were no guards on the first floor. She hoped the remaining two guards would hold off the killer—but she doubted it. Since the killer had been in the compound before, he would know how to find his way and evade attacks.
According to Mrs. Guo, Flying Swallow was easily the best fighter during the recruiting competitions. Hong had to mask her emotions and pretend she had never seen Flying Swallow before, though inwardly she was glad to meet the swordswoman in person.
"Mrs. Guo will be safe with me." Flying Swallow spoke as though she was stating a fact instead of making a promise. Her gaze raked over Hong in an appraising manner. "Though I am sure you have your own methods."
The tone of her voice implied that she had discerned Hong's real ability. For those truly skilled, they could distinguish whether a person was trained in martial arts or not. The way an expert martial artist moved—precise, calculating, deft—would not escape another trained eye.
"I do," Hong replied, in an equally confident voice. "I've heard
you are highly proficient in fighting. May I know how long you have trained?"
"Since I was young," Flying Swallow answered, but did not offer further details. "For a long time, I have relied on my fighting skills for survival."
Hong wondered what it was like to be a wandering swordswoman. She would likely follow the same path when she left the Shue household, travelling from city to city, often sleeping in deserted huts or even under trees, using her martial arts to right wrongs and bring justice. Flying Swallow seemed to enjoy her freedom, though she did look a bit lonely. Would her life also be the same?
Flying Swallow soon disappeared into the adjacent room where Mrs. Guo hid. Hong heard the sound of a lever being pulled down.
With Flying Swallow's presence, Hong worried less for Mrs. Guo's safety. But for her own…
The wind chimes outside clinked softly. Hong's trained ears picked up the faint thud of something hitting the ground—was it a body? Another thud followed. A cat hissed and leaped away.
Could it be the killer? Hong's knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table. Yet she dared not stand up and go to the window. She could be found out impersonating Mrs. Guo.
Footsteps, as light as a feather, were coming from the stairway. Hong braced herself and prayed that the killer wouldn't go to the other room. While she trusted Flying Swallow to hold him off until she came to the rescue, she didn't want to think what he'd do when he saw Mrs. Guo.
The door creaked open.
Someone stepped in.
"I am touched," a male voice said. "You promised to wait for me. So I have come."
Hong recognised the voice. All the nerves in her body were stretched to a breaking point.
"Why do you not answer, my love? Come, let me take you out of this miserable place. We shall be together forever."
Hong rose. The scarves around her sleeves rustled against her skirts.
"A romantic offer, but I am afraid I must decline," she said, facing him squarely. "Calligrapher Pai."
