Taming Poison Dragons (43 page)

A perfumed house: sandalwood and incense, flowers in extravagant number sent daily by admirers, so many they were taken for granted.

Five servants tended to her needs, aided by two musicians. Needless to say they viewed me with distrust, as somehow diminishing their mistress. Well they might, for their status depended entirely on her own and I hardly enhanced it. When I commented on her domestics, Su Lin complained that the courtesan Hsu Lau had over a dozen, as well as a small orchestra.

How swiftly riches had fallen her way! She had become one of the jewels wealthy young men found it necessary to admire – and possess, if they could. By her own account, this sudden good fortune flowed entirely from the patronage of His August Excellency, who had hired her to entertain the guests at several notable banquets. His motive was obvious. The guests could both admire her and chuckle over the fact that she had rejected Lord Xiao’s advances, thus diminishing his rival’s reputation.

The entire fashionable world followed His August Excellency’s example and one absurdly rich admirer went so far as to offer her this house. What he received in return, I did not enquire.

It was with some horror I began to recognise the same jealousy toward His August Excellency that I had felt for Lord Xiao. The futility and circularity of such feelings distressed me. Most of all, I watched her excitement at being so elevated with a thousand tangled emotions.

For a week I wandered from room to room, saying little.

At night, when Su Lin returned late, I strove to captivate her with my body, pretending the pain in my shoulder was no pain, the ache in my heart for lost intimacy did not matter. Mi Feng was as uncomfortable as myself, though he had a more pressing reason. Su Lin’s maid swelled with his unborn child, like a seed pod about to burst. How he regarded fatherhood he did not say, but I often saw them talking quietly to each other.

One afternoon, we retreated to the garden to escape a particularly noisy group of admirers, bearing gifts worthy of a princess for Su Lin, far beyond six months’ salary when I worked at the Deer Park Library. If they had not tittered then fallen silent as I passed by, I could have pretended they did not view me as a curiosity.

By now I wore splendid silks she had provided. How heavy they weighed that hot day! By a pond full of sluggish, shining carp, Mi Feng leant forward and whispered:

‘My Lord shouldn’t forget he faced a man more handy than these, and could have taken his head as a trophy if he’d wanted.’

Evidently he wished me to drive my rivals away with brute force. The absurdity of such a notion made me smile.

‘Different disciplines apply here,’ I said.

‘As you wish, sir,’ he muttered.

Strangely enough, I no longer objected to him addressing me as ‘sir’. Since my resignation as an official, I clung to any dignity. We looked silently out across the West Lake. Pleasure craft formed shifting patterns, like the positions of the constellations. This thought made me consider my own place. After a while, I turned to Mi Feng: ‘Fetch me paper and writing materials,’ I said. ‘I have a message for you to take to Cousin Hong.’

That evening I could keep silent no longer. Su Lin was un-engaged, a rare event. We dined alone in the summerhouse, and rather sumptuously. Despite her evident enjoyment of a moment’s peace in her splendid new house, I insisted she perform a few songs for me, citing the promise she had written when I languished in Pinang. Like a child, I resented favours other men enjoyed. Had I not paid for them in ways more costly than
cash
? Finally, Su Lin laid aside her lute and sat beside me. I stared out across the lake.

‘I do not like to see you unhappy,’ she said. ‘Do I not make you happy?’

‘What makes you say that?’ I asked.

‘Tell me, dearest Yun Cai, then I can understand.’

I stood up, and sighed loudly. How often one resembles a poorly-trained actor when speaking from the heart.

‘There are always so many fine fellows fluttering around you like moths! It is not what I expected.’

‘May not a few be drawn to my flame?’ she asked.

‘I do not like it.’

‘But that is how I make my living,’ she protested.

‘Would you rather we share a hovel together, glad to eat a little meat once a month?’

‘Yes! So long as we are the beings in each other’s eyes.’

Su Lin barely hid her exasperation.

‘You are in my eyes always! Now that you have lost your position, you rarely leave the house.’

I recoiled. Even in her anger, she comprehended the cruel injustice of her words. Su Lin glanced away, ashamed.

‘You might recall how that misfortune came about,’ I said, quietly.

She began to cry silently.

‘I did not mean that, Yun Cai! I am sorry. Your situation will mend,’ she said, brushing away tears. ‘His August Excellency will find you a new posting, and very soon. He has promised me! Then everything will have been worthwhile.’

She clutched my hand, and showed me her palm, where the scar she had cut before the Gate of Eternal Rectitude still lay.

‘Everything I am doing is to win your revenge!’ she cried. ‘Why do you think I court His August Excellency so carefully? It is for your sake. Just you! Remember the poison I am preparing!’

That day Su Lin had shown me a clay pot where she had sealed a centipede, scorpion, snake, frog and gecko lizard. She intended to grind up whichever of the noxious creatures outlived the others, swollen with the essences of the four it had consumed. With this a sorcerer might cast a spell on Lord Xiao. It was the kind of dark magic Honoured Aunty had practised, and little good it had brought her.

‘When Lord Xiao is crushed for what he has done, you shall be complete once more,’ she said, eagerly.

I held her slender hand and smiled sadly.

‘Revenge will not make us happy,’ I said.

‘Why must you always deny what I do for your sake?’

I sat beside her. The city darkened around us. Swallows flitted overhead and flies made rings upon the pond, disturbing the water with tiny ripples. Stars glittered on the surface, diffused, not brilliant like bright eyes.

‘Su Lin,’ I said. ‘Every day I stay here lessens my pride.

It is no reproach on you, my love, that I would sooner be poor than live in a palace as a kept man. You cannot imagine how I admire your success! How could I not? Of all the many who court you, only I knew the poor girl from Chunming who sat in an alley, dreaming of a better life. And through your grace and hard work, that is what you have attained. I honour you for it. But I cannot stay here forever. Tomorrow I will go to live with Cousin Hong. And when my own labours win me a house of my own, however modest, I trust you will visit me there. And then we may love each other, free of worry, as we did before.’

She did not take her eyes from my face throughout this long speech.

‘You want to leave me,’ she said, finally.

‘I must.’

‘It is as the fortune-teller told me,’ she said, her gaze fixed sightlessly on memories I could not share. ‘After Father fell into drink and debt, he sold me to a broker with connections in the capital. Oh, Yun Cai, I can remember his putrid breath now, as though it is something I may never wash away! But that is not what I meant to say. One day he gave me a few
cash
, because I had pleased him, expecting me to spend it on sweet buns, I suppose.

Instead I found a fortune-teller, and offered what little I could. The future was everything to me! And the old woman touched my eyelids with her finger, and said:

“Your fate is to watch from afar. You are love’s spy.” And now when I have gained so much, you wish to leave me!

Oh, will you not stay a little longer?’

But I could not hear of it. Not if I wished to retain a spark of pride.

‘Will you come here sometimes?’ she asked, timidly.

‘You see, I dare not visit you, I mean, in your cousin’s wine shop. . . it is just that, I cannot.’

I stopped her with a harsh laugh.

‘A fine sight you’d make!’ I said. ‘Parading through the Pig Market on tottering heels with a train of mincing maids! What if you stepped in something unpleasant? Or one of your lofty patrons saw you?’

To my surprise, silent tears again trickled down her face and I wondered if I had spoken cruelly. She kissed my hands.

‘You must not go!’ she said. ‘Wait another week, at least.’

We argued the point back and forth until she fell quiet.

Another night passed on her soft sheets. We embraced and kissed, proving our love. Her fragrance intoxicated me. At dawn we fell apart and slept. Yet in the moment before consciousness slipped away, I recalled Lord Xiao, and the irony that his malice had separated us in ways he could not have anticipated.

By contrasts we judge places; yet between one and the next, much is often shared. Cousin Hong’s tavern possessed aromas quite as intoxicating as Su Lin’s perfume.

Wine scented the air with a hundred variations of mood, depending on its warmth. When it was hot, heady clouds rolled round the courtyard of Hong’s establishment.

Welcome has its own smell too and I was lucky to find it in every corner. Cousin Hong never flinched from paying a debt. He was well aware that by discharging one obligation, fresh advantage accrues.

‘Little General,’ he said, after I had explained my circumstances. ‘It may be that you are offered a new position tomorrow, or maybe in six months. I don’t really care.

The one favour I ask is that you teach my boys how to read and write. That would be a great thing to me.’

Easy enough rent, even though his sons were dullards.

Cousin Hong found me a small room at the back of the house, overlooking Jewel Cloud Canal. I was reminded of my quarters in Uncle Ming’s residence, except that now I did not occupy a whole tower and shared the room with dozens of storage jars. There was space for a narrow bed and a corner table made of planks. Pegs for my clothes.

Shelves for my scrolls. The joy of being re-united with my library was quiet, yet intense. For all that, I could not stop thinking of Su Lin.

My chamber had a rectangular window barred against thieves and a square back door, opening onto narrow brick steps leading down to the canal, used for wine and vegetable deliveries. I sat on the steps often, contemplating the still waters and occasionally fishing. The fish were pampered creatures, having much effluence to feed on, but I found that a juicy maggot or plump cricket tempted them to bite. Though small and bony, they were delicious smeared with a paste of lime and crushed peppers, then barbecued, the crispier the better. Cousin Hong smacked his lips and declared they made a welcome change from pork.

Inevitably, Mi Feng accompanied me to my new home.

He left Su Lin’s mansion with alacrity, if for no other reason than impending fatherhood. To my surprise, Cousin Hong welcomed his arrival as warmly as my own for Mi Feng was instantly useful to him, whereas my upkeep cost hard cash. Recently Cousin Hong had been troubled by a gang of neighbourhood toughs who demanded free wine and upset the paying customers.

Within hours of Mi Feng’s installation they decided to frequent other wine shops. Nevertheless, dire threats were made against him and it was the kind of district where a wise man took such things seriously.

I spent many hours wandering the streets. Luckily I had money in my purse. The Lawyer Yuan Chu–Sou had tendered my resignation from government service as promised and insisted that I receive back-pay for my months in Pinang. A sum amounting to several thousand
cash.
So I could afford to while away an hour in a humble tea shop or outside a noodle stall, listening to the conversations as a man of leisure in the countryside listens to the birds. It is a fine thing not to be ashamed of modest pleasures. Around the Pig Market a few
cash
made me rich.

Sometimes when I could not sleep I left Cousin Hong’s house in the hour before dawn, driven by restlessness and bad dreams. While the city slept the Pig Market was full of noise and bustle. Hundreds of squealing swine, their legs bound, were unloaded from barges on the East Canal and carried by porters to pens where each beast was purchased after a careful examination. Bald pigs, hairy pigs, some speckled, others albino with feverish pink eyes. All were judged, and weighed, and paid for in double quick time. Dawn was already splitting the sky with slivers of golden light and everything had to be ready for the first customers.

The market was divided by two broad lanes, each sub-divided further by a hundred butchers’ stalls, behind which the beasts were slaughtered. At this hour I was reminded of a battlefield. Did the pigs squeal for mercy?

We could not, or did not care to, understand their voices.

Ribaldry and shouts from the assembled butchers, blood trickling in red, bubbly streams down channels lined with stone into the nearby canal. Naturally, small fish thronged in the waters and poor fishermen followed suit, singing as they cast and hauled in their nets.

Once dead, the pigs were hoisted onto thick wooden tables. Skilled men plied knives and cleavers shining dully in the lamplight, apportioning sections of the animals to slippery wooden trays. From there they were carried to the stall itself. Pyramids of kidneys and lungs, sides of best flesh alongside piles of legs. Meat possesses a peculiar smell before it decays, as though clinging to life.

The butchers were tired by then. Wine sellers specialising in a thin, watery brew filled jugs and wide-brimmed cups, for this was thirsty work. By sunrise, all was in readiness. Noodle merchants seeking ribs or offal arrived first, each competing to attract the breakfast trade, followed by buyers from wine shops, tea-houses, pickled pork shops and the humblest street vendors hoping to pick up a bargain which they would cook at noon and serve until dusk. By early afternoon the market had been stripped bare and officials wheeled vats of water across the huge square, washing the stones clean, ready for the next night.

So I wandered, thinking sparse thoughts. How people will laugh as they work, making the best of whatever fate or chance has cast their way. How the sky changes shape and colour, indifferent to the bustle it provokes. How men and swine share similar destinies, though the former are not generally eaten, except by weariness and worms.