Time Leap

by Steve Howrie

Thirty–Three

  The biggest part of this trip was not the time jump but the flight to China. We found a British Airways flight to Xi’an which stopped off in Shanghai, enabling us to visit one of Niki’s relatives en–route. The total flight time was just under seventeen hours. We were going through our wardrobes, looking for suitable clothes for the trip, when Niki had an idea.

  “Why don’t we take Smirnoff?”

  “Smirnoff? Why?” I said.

  “It could be dangerous over there at that time. Did you know that Qin Er Shi used to bury scholars alive if they didn’t hand in their books for burning?”

  “What! It seems a little harsh. They used to burn books? What sort of books… stuff against the government you mean?”

  “Yeah. Anything that challenged the law or state,” replied Nik.

  “Well, it still happens today in some parts of the World,” I observed.

  “And you don’t want to be late for work if you’re employed in Qin’s government.”

  “Why’s that? Do they give you fifty lashes?”

  “No, they kill you.”

  “Jesus! So that’s why you think we need a bodyguard?”

  “It’s just an idea.”

  We were quiet for a while. For some reason, I didn’t want to take Smirnoff this time. It added an unnecessary complication to what should be a routine trip. We weren’t going to kill anyone or change history, after all. Then I had an idea. “How about taking your cousin Jin He instead? He’s from Xi’an, speaks Chinese, and he could watch our backs. It would be an eye–opener for him too.”

  “Then you don’t mind sharing our secret with someone else?”

  “No… he’s not just someone else – he’s family!”

  Niki smiled. “Okay, great idea!” I guessed she’d thought of Jin already, and suggesting Smirnoff was just to get me used the idea of taking someone else along. I was right.

  The next step was to try to make me look Chinese. Because of my large Western nose, Nik said it was best to disguise me as someone from the West of China, where it’s common for men to have larger noses. In that case, my skin needed to be quite a bit darker, and my hair should be jet black. Niki said she could do all this by herself, with the right type of make–up and hair colour; but it might be better to get it done professionally. As it happened, Jin He’s mother (Aunt Peng) used to do stage make–up in Xi’an. Peng therefore seemed the perfect solution. I left Nik to contact both her Aunt and Jin He whilst I booked the flights.

  *

  Being virtually free agents, Niki and I could choose just about any day to travel to China. It was mid–October now and getting colder in London. We didn’t want to wait until the winter, so I booked our plane tickets for the last week in the month. We needed to have clothing for London, Shanghai and Xi’an. The peasants’ rebellion began in Xi’an in July 209 BC and ended in December – so jumping to 1st September, 209 BC, seemed a good date to choose. What would the climate in that part of China be like at that time I wondered? From scanning the internet, it seems to have been generally mild, but cold in the winter. Niki says it’s always better to be too hot than too cold, so we made sure we took enough warm under clothing. As regards style, Niki had already talked to Aunt Peng about costumes during the Qin Dynasty, and she said she could help with that. Naturally, Nik did not tell her we would be travelling 2200 years back in time – merely that we had been invited to an elaborate fancy dress party in Xi’an.

  Nik had also chatted with Cousin Jin He. Although he is from Xi’an, he was currently working in Shanghai, and that’s where we would meet up with him. Jin He had chosen the English name ‘Magic’ (after the ex–American basketball player Earvin ‘Magic’ Johnson, who was now a multi–millionaire). Basketball is extremely popular in China – as is making loads of money – so Magic seemed a good name. He was thrilled at the idea of helping us in Xi’an, though Niki had not yet given him the details (and not mentioned ‘time–travel’ of course). With Magic’s work commitments, a weekend was best for him. This was not a problem for us, and we arranged to fly together to Xi’an on late Friday afternoon, 31st October.

  This was the trip I had been waiting for... I just had to get this one on camera.

  ***

 

  Thirty–Four

  Shanghai is an amazing city. It’s divided by the Huangpu River into two main regions – Puxi and Pudong. Due to the very modern buildings in Pudong, the views across the river from Puxi side have been used as a back–drop for many futuristic Sci–fi movies. From Pudong side, gazing in the opposite direction, you would think you were looking at the waterfront of an old European city. Other parts of the city are distinctly Chinese – notably Yu Yuan Gardens. Shanghai is not really a cosmopolitan metropolis like London or New York, but it has the greatest western influence of all Chinese cities. It’s also home to around twenty–five million people; you are never alone in Shanghai.

  Magic lived Puxi side in an area called Hongqiao, not far from one of the two international airports in the city, and also the high–speed rail hub. He was currently working at an American bank in Shanghai, and got off early that Tuesday afternoon to meet us at Pudong International airport. It was great to see him again.

  “Joe… long time no see!”

  We had just met at the arrivals section of the airport. Magic was looking well, and more grown up than the last time we met. His English (Americanised) was pretty good too. He’d studied in the US and clearly picked up both the accent and a lot of self–confidence. He sat in the front seat next to the driver, whilst Niki and I sat in the back.

  “So glad you guys came over here!” he continued.

  “Thanks,” I said. “We thought it was about time for a visit.”

  “Ling Ling – nide toufa ting haode!” he said to Niki, complimenting her on her hairstyle. Then he turned back to me. “Hey Joe – tell me about this project of yours – the one in Xi’an.”

  “Oh, the historical production! It’s going to be very, very authentic. You’ll think you’re really back in 209 BCE China – trust me.”

  “I’d no idea you were into that sort of stuff! I thought you were just a money man.”

  “Who says I don’t want to make money doing this?” I replied.

  Magic laughed and continued to talk to Niki in Chinese for the rest of the journey. By the time we arrived at his apartment, we were both very tired and went for a rest in Magic’s spare bedroom. The clock said 6pm, but we hadn’t slept well on the plane overnight due to the turbulence (despite travelling first class). We fell fast asleep very quickly and didn’t wake until 8am the next morning – we’d slept for fourteen hours.

  Magic had gone to work by the time we were up. He left a note telling us to help ourselves to breakfast and saying where everything was. We arranged to meet him for dinner later that day after he’d finished work.

  The next couple of days were spent shopping (one of Niki’s favourite pastimes) and preparing for our trip to Xi’an. Niki phoned Aunt Peng, who said she’d booked a hotel for the two of us not far from her home. Magic would stay with Peng, his mother. Friday came round quickly, and it wasn’t long before we were on our way to the airport. This time we didn’t need to travel all the way to Pudong, we could fly from Hongqiao – just ten minutes on the Shanghai metro from Magic’s apartment.

  Magic was good company and a great help. With Xi’an being his hometown, he was used to the trip to Central China, though he would usually take the overnight train rather than fly. It was so much more convenient to travel on the new high speed railway system that had developed so quickly across the country – no delays and without the high security checks common at airports these days. But it still took a lot longer on the train to Xi’an compared to the plane – so hence the reason we flew.

  After arriving at Xi’an’s international airport, we took a taxi to Aunt Peng’s house. This was situated in the south–west of the city, not far from the Olympic Park. Since the Olympic Games
in 2008, many parks across China received the name ‘Olympic’, though it didn’t mean they were used for the Olympic Games.

  Aunt Peng was delighted to see us. I’d just met her one time before – at our wedding – and it was good to catch up. My Chinese is, well, crap, so Niki and Magic translated for me defaulting to Chinese after a while, which left me rather out of things. But I’m used to that when we visit China. It was getting late by this time, so Magic took us to our hotel. We arranged to see Aunt Peng at 10am the next morning.

  *

  “I can’t quite believe we’re going to do this Nik,” I said as we lay in bed the next day.

  “Do what?”

  “Go back in time and see Emperor Qin’s tomb.”

  “Don’t get too excited – it might be the last thing you see!”

  I wasn’t really worried about the possible danger. I thought we’d be safe as long as the three of us kept together.

  “Magic will look after us,” I replied confidently, adding, “how are you going to tell him about us travelling more than two thousand years back in time?”

  “Oh, I’m leaving that to you Joe.”

  We had breakfast in the hotel, and then ambled over to Aunt Peng’s. The story Nik had given both Peng and Magic was that we were taking part in an historical enactment of the death of Emperor Qin Shi Huang at the site of his tomb. They didn’t question it, and Peng said she was glad to help with make–up and costumes. She used to work part–time at the Shaanxi Grand Opera House in Xi’an, and was very used to preparing actors for performances of Chinese Opera. Magic was rather reluctant to take part in our enactment at first, thinking that we were going to look like old Opera stars (not very cool), but we told him it would be nothing like that: we’d look like normal people two thousand years ago. It would be fun – and we’d say nothing to his friends or colleagues at work.

  Apparently, Aunt Peng was a master of her trade. Nik explained that I wanted to look Chinese, and Peng suggested making me up like a Muslim from Xinjiang Province in the west of China. There have been Muslims in that area for more than 2000 years, she said, and it would not be so unusual to see one in or around Xi’an. Peng agreed with Nik that my skin needed to be a lot darker, and suggested a black wig, plus some false facial hair. She said this was common in the make–up department at the Theatre, and suggested we go there that afternoon. As regards clothing, the way people dressed in those times was well known to Peng, and she said we could borrow something suitable from the Theatre using her contacts there.

  The Opera House is situated very close to the south section of the old city wall. It was a bright afternoon, and we walked along part of the wall en route. It was in remarkably good condition, given that it was more than 600 years old. Inside the theatre, Aunt Peng was clearly well–known to the staff, and she had no problem taking us back stage to the costume and make–up area. A big smile came over Nik’s face as she saw the extensive wardrobes.

  “Women and clothes, hey Magic?” I said to the young man. He had been unusually quiet every since we arrived at Aunt Peng’s – not the outward, funny young man who travelled with us from Shanghai. He just smiled at my remark. “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Sure, no problem,” he replied. Then, when Peng and Niki were out of earshot, he added, “It’s just a little strange being here with my mom. It makes me feel like a little boy again. You know, Chinese mothers do everything for their children, and in some ways it holds them back. It can make you very spoiled too. I’m so glad I spent four years in America – it helped me to grow up and be independent.”

  “Are you looking forward to tomorrow – you still want to do it, right?”

  “Sure, glad to help you guys. I don’t know exactly what you want me to do, but it’ll be fun. Everyone knows the stories about the tomb of Qin Shi Huang and the curse…”

  “Sorry, did you say ‘the curse’?” I interrupted.

  “Yeah… didn’t you know?”

  I certainly did not know, and I needed to speak to my Chinese wife urgently.

  “How about this one?” she said, placing a false black beard across my face before I had time to speak. I removed it quickly.

  “There’s something rather more important we need to talk about just now.”

  “Okay, go ahead…”

  “In private.” We walked to the far end of the large room, out of earshot of the others. “You didn’t tell me about the curse.”

  “Curse? What curse? What are you talking about Joe?”

  “The curse on Emperor Qin’s tomb!”

  “Oh, that one. Well, you didn’t seem too worried about the crossbows, arrows, or rivers of mercury, so I didn’t think you’d be bothered about a little curse.”

  “How little?”

  “According to legend, the Emperor placed a powerful curse on anyone who dares to invade his final resting place.”

  “And?”

  “And whoever opens the tomb, their country’s regime will fall. Can I go back to what I was doing now?”

  This was both shocking and interesting. I’d heard about the curses of Egyptian Pharaohs (mostly by watching my Indiana Jones boxed–set), but never heard of one connected with a Chinese Emperor. I don’t really believe in curses, to be honest, but I like to have all the information up front. So what was on my mind was this: if the curse is true, whose regime will fall if all three of us enter the tomb? Britain’s or China’s… or maybe both?

  ***

  Thirty–Five

  Aunt Peng did us proud. I would never recognise myself in the outfit she’d put together for me. Niki also looked great, as did Magic, though he was not at all keen on the false beard. “It’s so your friends don’t recognise you in the photographs,” I explained. We’d soon have to tell him something a little more difficult to accept: time travel. But that could wait.

  Our plan was to take our costumes to the site of the Mausoleum and change there. My make–up, however, really needed to be applied in advance. This was done by Aunt Peng that Sunday morning, before taking a taxi to the tomb. Our taxi driver gave me some strange looks, I can tell you.

  Once we were at the Mausoleum, we found a quiet shaded area and changed into our period costumes. The tomb is situated in what is mainly countryside, so it wasn’t difficult to find somewhere secluded. Magic was now concerned about two things: what his role would be in this ‘enactment of history’; and how many others would be taking part in the show. It was time to come clean.

  Dark clouds in the distance were heading our way, and we could hear the sound of thunder getting closer. It probably wasn’t the best time to stand under a big tree.

  “Magic,” I said, “do you believe in time travel?”

  “Time travel!” He thought about it for a moment, and then replied, “I think it may be possible one day. Perhaps we’ll invent it in China,” he smiled.

  “That day might have come sooner than you think,” I said. “When was the last time it snowed in Xi’an?”

  “Oh, last winter – when I was home during the Spring Festival. We had a lot of snow at the end of January.”

  “I’d like to see that – wouldn’t you Nik?” She nodded, grabbing one of Magic’s arms, whilst I took the other, changing the date on my phone at the same time. The next thing we knew we were standing under the same tree in a winter wonderland. Deep snow was everywhere, and we stayed for about a minute before quickly jumping back to the present.

  “Wah! What was that?” Magic managed to say.

  “Time travel,” Nik said matter–of–factly, “get used to it.” She picked up our bag of clothes and I helped her to hide it behind some trees.

  “Let’s go,” I said, to a speechless Magic.

  Niki and I walked towards the tomb, with Magic in tow. Fortunately, there were not a huge number of visitors that day – probably due to the threat of stormy weather – but still around fifty people were walking up and down the steps leading to the top of the tomb. From a distance, you could
possibly mistake the tomb for a naturally formed hill. It was, after all, in the middle of countryside, and covered from top to bottom with trees. But up close and personal, it became obvious that this was very much man–made. As we walked, Niki talked to Magic in Chinese, explaining how we had discovered the gift of time travel, and stressing the importance of not telling a soul about it.

  “So, where are we going now?” Magic asked.

  “We’re going back to 209 BC,” I said. “We had to tell you we were just play–acting, but we really are going there.”

  “Cool!”

  “Does that date mean anything to you Magic?” I asked.

  “I remember at school we had to read a book called Shiji by the Chinese writer Sima Qian. In English, the book is called ‘Records of the Grand Historian’. The book definitely talked about Qin Shi Huang and an uprising against the Qin government. I’m pretty sure that was around 209 BC. Qin Shi Huang had recently died at that time, and people wanted changes in the laws.”

  We reached the beginning of the pyramid earth–mound and stopped. There were walk–ways around it, so we took a left turn and stopped at a quiet corner. No–one else was nearby.

  “Okay Magic, it’s time for the great leap backwards!”

  “Meaning?”

  “Time leap. We all have to be in physical contact to travel at the same time – so take Niki’s arm and we’ll get you there in a flash.” I should have said ‘bang’. I changed the dated to 1st November, 209 BC and got the shock of my life. For a moment we were in free fall, landing on what appeared to be soft soil with a bump. We must have dropped about five metres.

  “Shit!” I exclaimed. It was very damp down there. “Are you both okay?”

  “I think I’ve broken my ankle!” Niki groaned.

  “Oh great,” I sighed. “Let me see.” It was dark down there and difficult to see anything. Niki couldn’t move her foot without great pain. “How about you Magic?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You two go on, I’ll wait here,” Nik said; but I couldn’t have that.

  “No no, we’ll go back to the present and try again.” I was thinking that if we returned to our own time, Niki’s ankle would miraculously return to what it was before we jumped. I had no proof of this – just speculation.