by Sam Abraham
“Us Texans. A lot of countries,” Zoe said.
When the Spaceline drifted out of their view, Eli said, “Okay, back to work.” He reached into his pocket and unfolded a holodisc. With a light touch, it unfurled its blue interface on his lap. Then he looked at her and said, “I need some of your data.”
“How much?”
“Just a small sample,” Eli said. “The professor said it would be okay. Don’t worry, I’ll encrypt it. But I’ve got to demonstrate that the device works.”
“Oh, it works. Who are you blabbing it to?”
He had to admit that Zoe’s curiosity made the edges of her face glow. “The buyer,” he said, like it should have been obvious.
“Remind me of the winning bid again?”
Eli smiled. He knew she just wanted to hear it. “Two hundred and thirty billion Yuan,” he said.
“Ok, you can have some data,” Zoe said. “Just keep a log.”
“Obviously,” he said, trying not to roll his eyes at her. “It will take me a few weeks to complete my pitch,” he said, configuring the panels of his holodisk, “Then we’ll schedule the meet.” Slipping out of his chair, he went back to the liquor cabinet and fished out a bottle of red. The label said it was from New Zealand. He uncorked it and poured two glasses, bringing them out to the balcony.
Zoe slipped out of her hanging chair and gladly accepted a goblet from him. She sniffed the wine and took a small sip. “What is this?”
“Kiwi zin,” he said, savoring a bit on his tongue. Then he raised his glass and said, “To changing the rules.” They clinked glasses. “I’m glad you came,” he said.
“All part of your devious plan, I suppose,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I noticed you managed to get a room with only one bed.” She grinned at him and he pulled her into his arms. “Better,” she said, sipping the delicate wine and looking out at the sprawling city. Eli decided she smelled like home.
Chapter 24 - Fu (復)
Kings Of Antiquity
In Wuhu, their welcome was different.
When the legion of Jade reached the pseudocity where the mighty Yangzi River curled north, they found paper lanterns strung along the highway. By national standards, this locus of five million people was small, but Wuhu took pride in its history, and its position as a transport hub on the Yangzi made it a seat of power for the River Syndicate in the affiliated territories. It flourished in peace.
Now the Councilors of the River Syndicate feared what the Jade might do to Wuhu, that the cult might threaten their trading position in the Ghost Lands. So the River Syndicate sent emissaries, draped in red peony garlands in honor of the Mid-Autumn Festival, to welcome the host of this new religion. Hundreds gathered from the villages surrounding Wuhu, holding candles out to the endless lines of approaching Jade, inviting them to enter the city as friends.
And so it was that the man called Han marched in a long column with thousands of his Jade brothers and sisters, and saw a great parade welcome him to the river town. First came the minstrels, playing the flower drum song on flutes and cymbals, their soprano voices echoing as they danced. Then came the floats, draped in lilac and lotus petals, rolling slowly through the soft evening. Han watched with wide eyes under the yellow autumn moon, forgetting his sore feet, and whispered with those around him that the Lady in the Moon must truly be powerful to be welcomed like an empress.
On one of the floats was a woman called Jia Anmei. It had been she who had first suggested to the River Syndicate Council that they invite the Jade into their homes. Even so, it took all of her courage to smile as she looked upon the warriors in white. She was not one for superstition, but the stories from up-province were haunting, and though she wore a brave face, she felt fear dine upon her.
Li Aizhu rode in a convertible at the rear of the Jade infantry. Men in white walked to either side, holding green flags unfurled in the wind with hexagrams from the I Ching, broken and unbroken lines. Xie was at her side, and the scent of osmanthus flowers was in the air as she watched Wuhu’s citizens submit without a drop of blood. Clearly, she thought, it was a sign of divine providence. The meek were finally getting the respect they deserved.
As the convertible rolled into the city’s main square, floats from the parade ringed a bronze sculpture of eagles with their great wings spread. Li emerged, dressed in silk, and waved a floral paper fan before her face to ward off the September heat. Xie watched several well-dressed officials approach, and said, “See, Lady, how the River Syndicate comes to offer terms of surrender.”
Leading the party, the woman Jia Anmei approached Li and bowed her head. “Welcome to Wuhu,” she said demurely. “Are you the one they call the reincarnation of Chang’e, Lady in the Moon?”
“Who is in charge?” Xie demanded gruffly. “I must arrange quarters for our army.”
“Your people will be well taken care of. I am Jia Anmei,” she said, turning to Xie, “Cultural Minister of the River Syndicate, and assistant to the Pastor of the Three Self Church in Wuhu. I am glad to welcome fellow believers in the divinity of Christ into our humble city. I am told you have many among you who are malnourished and in need of care. Is that true?”
Xie decided that Jia Anmei had a pleasing face, heart-shaped with small dimples at the corners of her lips. She wore a navy dress and an embroidered tan jacket. She was slim, but not like his lover, he thought. Li was lithe to the point of scrawniness. But this woman wore graceful curves and stood straight and looked him in the eye, unafraid of his bandaged face. She wore no rings or jewelry, yet her poise was that of a queen, as imperious as it was gentle.
Li set her gaze on Anmei, finding the way she looked at Xie distasteful. “It is not your city anymore,” she said haughtily. “Wuhu has been purified. It belongs to the Jade now.”
“Very good, Lady,” Anmei said unexpectedly, bowing her head lower. “Your new subjects have prepared a feast for you and your officers, in honor of the Mid-Autumn Festival.”
Xie and Li exchanged looks. “My brigade will flank the city,” Xie said. “Any treachery, and only ghosts will be left for parades.”
“I assure you,” Anmei said with her widest smile, “We are your loyal subjects. We have seen holos of your miracles, Lady. No one can deny that Heaven has sent you.”
They gathered at a restaurant off the main square, with gauche dragons curling up the sides and fringed lanterns hanging across the foyer. The place had been cleared out for them, the tables lined by Jade warriors. Shen, Xie and Li sat among the Wuhu elite, a little surprised by the warm hospitality, though none would admit it aloud.
Jellied octopus, fried duck, steamed vegetables and river snails piled up around them as the evening wore on. Li barely touched the courses but Shen tucked in, licking his fingers clean of sauces infused with taro and rhubarb and pumpkin. He questioned Jia Anmei between bites, asking about the local police, the food supply, and the communication with other River Syndicate outposts in the Ghost Lands.
Anmei smiled politely at Shen as she answered his questions, and complimented him on his army and his strength. The former Centrist propaganda man pretended not to notice that she was flattering him, but the scotch they had served him had gone to his head. Soon he was recounting the story of the flood of Anqing, chuckling with Anmei when she laughed at his jokes.
“You know,” said Jia Anmei after Shen had taken a big sip of whisky, “as the newest of the Purified Territories, the city of Wuhu would be honored to see the birthplace of the Jade. We would like to send an emissary with gifts for our new protectors.”
Shen eyed her suspiciously. “You fight with flowers and candles.”
Anmei smiled politely. “It is better this way,” she said. “We have heard about the…purifications…of Anqing and Tongling. Wuhu has been a city for almost three thousand years, Captain. We have not survived this long by choosing sides incorrectly.”
Shen grunted drunkenly. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that the River Syndicate cannot alarm
the Centrists without losing face, he thought, though to say the words would have been indelicate. “Well, you may visit the shores of the Holy Lake, but you will need to bring a levy. Twenty percent of the treasury’s balance. And any engineers you can spare.”
“How curious!” Anmei exclaimed, flitting her eyelids. “Why would a religion need engineers?”
He waved away her question and lit a cigarette. “The professor will explain his needs when your delegation arrives at the Holy Lake.”
“Of course,” Anmei said sweetly. “We look forward to paying our respects to its miracle.”
As dessert was served, Li heard a voice sing to her, calling her outside, its melody pulling at her heart. She excused herself and wound up in a private garden. The lilting song continued, coming from a small pond which rippled as moonbeams sailed across its surface.
She drew closer, wrapping her shawl around her, for though it was oppressively humid she felt a chill down her spine. A few bright stars poked through the smog blanket. In the pond, koi fish swirled about in swaths of orange and white, until suddenly they swam away, leaving the pond as still as a mirror. There, in her reflection, something else was standing next to her.
She gasped and looked around, finding nothing but the wind. But when she looked back at the water, there it was again, beside her in the pond. Its face curled up into a skull with high cheekbones and a narrow jaw. Gentleness shone from its small black eyes, and its long ears above its head twitched to and fro as it crouched on lanky haunches. Moonlight flowed from its white fur. “Hello Chang’e,” it said. “It has been too long.”
“Jade Rabbit,” she whispered, kneeling down to get a closer look.
“I have been watching you, dear sister, since your rebirth. It has been lonely on the moon since you returned to earth.” And its words blossomed into a sad and twisting chorus, rising and falling again like the waxing and waning of its cold home, lonely in orbit. Soon the song faded, but not before it was etched into Li’s mind. Then Jade Rabbit said, “I wish my visit to you was on a happier note. I wish we could sing together again. But your Heavenly family has sent me to bring you urgent news.” The pond got greener. Li could barely see the fish at the edges. The Rabbit’s eyes grew brighter, its fur melting away in spirals. “Your Father must speak to you,” Jade Rabbit stared at her as the words came. “He knows where your mother—“
“Lady, what are you doing out here?”
The image vanished. Li turned to see Xie behind her. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” she snapped, enraged. She turned back to the pool. It was full of koi, its water as black as the cloudy sky.
“They are about to recite a poem in your honor.”
“Tell them to wait. I am not ready,” she said, as the words of Jade Rabbit rang in her ears. Li glared at Xie even as she knew his interruption came from love.
He used the night to hide his bandaged face in shadow. “Come, Lady,” he said. “We don’t want to offend our hosts if we wish them to join your cause.”
Li looked at the pond again. Her vision would not return, she knew. So she pushed her anger down, caught her airs and strolled back to the restaurant.
A troupe of entertainers was waiting for her with bells and flutes. The dancers entered with great fanfare, in tasseled costumes with crimson tights and golden sleeves, tumbling into the restaurant. A chorus of girls in pink dresses with red sashes appeared, singing in falsettos Su Dongpo’s poem of changing seasons, the nectar of the world and the moon.
Men have sorrow and joy
They part or meet again
The Moon may be bright and dim
She may wax or wane
There has been nothing perfect
Since the old days
The words caressed Li, and after the third song the dancing faded and Li felt as if she were floating on melodious wings. Between the strong tea and rice wine, her head was filled with voices, from the ancient past and unseen future. As one, they sang to her, praising her divine right to rule.
Calligraphy fluttered behind her eyes as private cars took them to the sprawling hotel, lit with crimson columns and crystal windows. Li accepted the city’s hospitality, staying in the penthouse. With guards posted at her door, only Xie followed her into the bed chamber. And after they had finished and he was fast asleep beside her, she tossed and turned in the palatial bed, humming the sad tune to herself in the dark, remembering what Jade Rabbit had told her.
Chapter 25 – Wu Wang (無妄)
State Of Innocence
The next day, Jia Anmei took a helicopter south. She had not been flying long before the burnt wreckage of what used to be the River Syndicate outpost in Tongling smoked beneath her. Waving from the tops of hollowed-out buildings were fluttering green flags, imprinted with hexagrams, patterns of broken and unbroken lines. Soon Anmei saw the lake on no maps, stretching as far as the eyes could see. Around it, the hills came alive with trucks lining the lonely mountain roads.
“Landing in five,” the pilot’s words came through her headset. “You were right to contact Beijing and alert us to the unrest here. And you were wise to invite the Jade into your pseudocity, and pretend to be their ally. We’re watching over you now. If you want the River Syndicate to stay in control of the Ghost Lands, if you want Wuhu to survive, unearth who is behind the Jade. Do so, and you will have the full protection of Guoanbu and Centrist Command.”
“I am happy to comply with the State Security Ministry,” Anmei told her handler as they hovered over an airstrip, “There is no need for ultimatums.” She knew that Guoanbu, the State Security Ministry, was a dangerous ally. Its spies saw everything, foreign and domestic, and she knew that she was playing with fire. But she felt trapped, unsure of how else to protect everything she held dear. “Our guests will let something slip, and then we will know their weakness.”
The helicopter set down near an abandoned runway. Her mind full of worry, Anmei approached the man sent to meet her. He wore a deep tan, white robes and a long ponytail that whipped in the wind. He stood with his arms crossed, waiting for her.
“Sun, I presume?” she said, smiling. When he said nothing, she cleared her throat. “I am Jia Anmei, emissary of Wuhu. I was told you would take me to Professor Yang.”
“For the record,” the bandit said, “my coins tell me that having you here is a bad idea.”
“Then your patience is met with gratitude,” Anmei said.
As they drove up a road that wound along the shore, Anmei was mesmerized by the lake, watching the water curl around buildings that poked from its surface. Soon they merged into long lines of flatbed trucks, which were carrying piles of cargo under tarps.
“What are they transporting?” Anmei asked. Sun simply laughed and refused to answer.
They arrived at an old factory scarred by broken windows. But despite its blemished facade, it was clear to Anmei when she entered that the interior had clearly been rebuilt recently. Massive tanks sat in the center clamped with assembly belts, hissing as they stamped long poles of metal and glass. As an elevator lifted them above the floor, Anmei could see green mash inside the steel tanks.
Sun watched her attentiveness and said, “I hope we’re not wasting our time on you.”
“Wuhu is a worthy ally for the Jade,” Anmei replied. “If the deal made with your Captain Shen is not honored, you will have made a powerful enemy instead of a loyal friend.”
Sun waved her down. “It doesn’t matter to me, one way or the other. If the Lady in the Moon says you meet Yang, then I’ll take you to him. Did you bring the money?”
Anmei swallowed her pride and nodded. “It is in an account in Macao.”
“Did Shen even tell you what the money is for?” the bandit jabbed. “Or that you’ll be transporting cargo upriver to Wuhu in exchange for our protection?”
Anmei wanted to answer, but she knew any lie would sound hollow. When she said nothing, Sun threw his head back and cackled.
From the elevator Sun led her to a stee
l door. He put his finger in a tube next to it, letting sensors sequence his genome from his epithelials. When the scan matched his DNA, the door slid apart.
Sun swept his arm forward. “After you, Minister,” he said, smiling like a jackal.
Anmei walked slowly into a dark room with a long window. Men and women in lab coats and holobeads were watching streams of data. Some were pointing, arguing about what numbers meant. Anmei couldn’t follow it. She approached the window, and what she saw astonished her.
The room beyond the window was a hollow sphere, etched in hundreds of thin green lines. It was like circuitry, the surface of a biological microchip. The central chamber was dominated by a metal core that hung from the ceiling, fed from a chemical bath through bundles of spindles at the base. Air rippled in the chamber, and electric charges curled off the metal core in frantic, twisted arcs.
Before Anmei could fathom the purpose of the glowing green room, a man walked over to her. Startled, she turned from the electric dance. His black hair sprung over his spectacles, and he had a broad, disarming smile. “Jia Anmei of the Purified City of Wuhu,” he said, “welcome to my laboratory.”
“Dr. Yang,” Anmei began, “thank you for the honor of your time. I have the levy that—“
“Not here,” Yang said. “Let’s talk in my office.”
Anmei stole a last look at the green room and followed Yang to an office. Sun joined them. The office was small but lavish, with silks and paintings taken from Tongling. Yang sat in an armchair embroidered with cherry blossoms, and gestured for Anmei to sit as well. But she preferred to stand.
“Welcome, Minister,” Yang said, opening a wooden box on the desk and producing a glass talisman for Anmei. “I am grateful that Wuhu surrendered peacefully.”
She took the amulet from Yang and turned it over in her hands, and saw that it contained the same green pulp she had seen in the factory vats. “What is this?” she said.
“Anmei, do you know the legend of Chang’e?”
