The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1) (24 page)

              “
It’s 8:43.  Go ahead and go in.  Don’t keep him waiting, he’s expecting you
,” said Mr. Cheung.  Xiaoyu didn’t know whether he could ask who was behind the door.  If he asked, he didn’t know if he could expect an answer.  But he was interested in the mystique of a little red door at an old stone fort and intrigued that only he was allowed to pass through it.  Mr. Cheung and the other two men started on lit cigarettes and looked at Xiaoyu.  Unsettled by the attention, Xiaoyu was ready to meet the man behind the door.  The door handle turned only down and the door cracked.  Xiaoyu pushed the door open and saw fire. 

              “
Close the door
,” said a motherly voice.  Xiaoyu looked back at the three men, who were conversing and had stopped paying attention to him.  Mr. Cheung gave him a head glance and a look that said
you’re good enough but we’ll see
.  Xiaoyu closed the door, putting himself on the other side.  The room was noticeably warmer than outside.  There were candles that numbered in the dozens—all lit.  A long thin table in the middle of the room left only wiggle room near the walls.  In the corner was a thin man with long white hair down to his shoulders.  His face was either clean-shaven or poisoned against whiskers. His chin was pointed, forming a perfect triangle with his high cheek bones.  He wore a dark brown linen shirt and blue jeans.  Xiaoyu was unsure if the figure was a man or a woman, but assumed a man because all he met since arriving in Hong Kong were men.

              “
So you’re the candidate
,” said the figure in a voice soften by age or not hardened by puberty. 

              “
I am the Artist, at least, the current one
,” said the figure, “
What is your name
?”

              “Li Xiaoyu,” said Xiaoyu.

              “
Don’t worry, I know they didn’t tell you why you’re here.  That’s my responsibility
,” said the Artist, “
If you’re wondering how I got here early enough to set this up, it’s because I live on the island.  Would you like to know why they brought you here
?”

              Xiaoyu nodded.

              “
Basically for this
,” said the Artist, holding up a long piece of paper that was resting on his lap.  The Artist used pieces of tape to attach the piece of paper to the far wall opposite the door.  High in the candlelight, Xiaoyu could get a good look at the paper.  It was a picture, a sophisticated one.  In the center was a fireball.  Around the fire ball were eight dragons.  The two dragons on the top crossed each other, while the four on the sides did their best to avoid each other.  The two on the bottom seemed to race each other.  All had talons extended, reaching for the ball in the middle.

              “
Do you know what this is?
 
What it represents?
” asked the Artist.  Xiaoyu shook his head.

“
It’s called the Reverse Mark or just the Mark
,” said the Artist,
“
You might also hear some say the Backward Scar.  They call it that way because a scar is a mark that you earn before you get it.  You feel the pain before you get the scar.  This mark you’re selected for but you’ll earn it later.  Today you get the Mark but the painful part is longer and later
.”

“
How do I get the Mark
?” asked Xiaoyu.

“
With a tattoo
,” said the Artist, “
We’re going to tattoo this on you.  The ball in the middle, that’s on fire, is an egg—a dragon egg.  It represents Hong Kong
.”

“
Why is it an egg
?” asked Xiaoyu.

“
Good question
,” said the Artist, “
The egg is potential.  It has yet to hatch.  If you see all the dragons are moving toward the egg because they want the power that is the egg, the potential.  What is, is not as powerful as what can be.  What is, is definite.  What can be is infinite.  Hong Kong can be whatever anyone wants it to be, but you have to control it first.  Each dragon wants control of the egg.  Now, why do you think there are eight dragons
?”  Xiaoyu shook his head in genuine ignorance.

“
The eight dragons represent the eight branches of the Triad family:  the Fire Dragons; the Earth Dragons; the Blue Dragons; the Moon Dragons; the Flying Dragons; the Thorns; the Golden Masters and the Sons of the Sun.  You are here at request of the Moon Dragons.  Only one person can have the tattoo for one branch, so at most there can be eight men alive with this tattoo—one for each branch.  This is why it is considered such an honor.  For you it is a special honor because it has been years since I have done a tattoo for the Moons
,” said the Artist.

“
Why
?” asked Xiaoyu.

“
The Moons are prudent
,” said the Artist, “
They are unwilling to send some young kid in here if he’s not going to work out.  The Moons are not so cruel
.”

“
What do you mean, not cruel
?” asked Xiaoyu.

“
Like I said, today you get the Mark, but you still have to earn it
,” said the Artist,
 
“
You earn it by fighting, by becoming a Jade Soldier.  Each branch has a leader called a Dragon Head.  A Jade Soldier is the personal bodyguard of the Dragon Head and leader of his arsenal.  The Jade Soldiers guard the Dragon Heads and command each army.  That is the way it has been since ancient times.  But you have to prove yourself worthy of the honor.  The Moons think you have the potential to become a Jade Soldier, that’s why they’ve selected you to receive the Mark
.”

“
Who do I have to fight
?” asked Xiaoyu.

“
Anyone.  Everyone
,” said the Artist, “
The Triads have a business more underground than any other, a kind of gambling ring.  People from all over the world come to bet on blood.  Two men are put in a cage but only one comes out.  This is how they train the Jade Soldiers.  You will either survive as one or die along the way
.”

“
Why did they choose me
?” asked Xiaoyu.

“
I don’t know that
,” said the Artist, “
It’s not always a matter of strength or speed or fighting experience.  Knowing the Moons, they might have picked you based on wit
.”

“
Why
?” asked Xiaoyu.

“
The Moons value judgment more than anything else—more than the other branches.  They understand matters of judgment
,” said the Artist,
“
You have to understand that to receive the Mark means you’ll have to face fighters from all over the world.  They’ll be from Vietnam, Cambodia, South America, Africa, everywhere.  Some will be faster than you and some will be stronger.  You’ll have to find a weakness and make a judgment call.  I’m also responsible for telling you the rules about the Jade Soldiers.  As a matter of respect, one Jade Soldier cannot kill another by any device other than his hands.  If you ever find cause to kill another Jade Soldier you have to fight him.  You cannot shoot him, stab him or blow him to hell.  And no sneak attacks.  If you do become a Jade Soldier, you have to identify yourself before attacking another Jade Soldier
.”

“
Why would I do that
?” asked Xiaoyu, “
I think it’s best to surprise
.”

“
Surprise is a great advantage for sure
,” said the Artist, “
I agree that advantage is something you should always think about.  But more than what you think about is what you are.  And the Mark is a symbol of honor.  If you live long enough to earn it, you will have great respect from all who know the Mark.  Along with that respect, is the honor that deserves it.  So you have to act with honor as a Jade Soldier.  We should get started.  The tattoo takes nine hours.  They will be back to get you around 6 pm
.”

The Artist fitted himself with white latex gloves and fished through a wooden box.  He fixed a needle-looking tube to the end of a hammer-shaped tool.  The tool was wrapped, almost entirely with silver tape.  A black two-sided cord hung from the back like a rat’s tail.  The rat’s tail connected to a stationary 6-volt battery with a crude looking black switch.  The tool was designed to work not lie.  It was obviously made not manufactured. 

“
We have to get started
,” said the Artist, “
This will take some time and I will have to take a break at some point.  We’ll start with your back first, because there’s less to do there.  Put this towel for your head and take off your shirt
.”

Xiaoyu folded the towel and took off his shirt.  He lied on the table on his stomach and put the towel as a cushion for his forehead.  He could feel the cold machine touch against his back and politely sting him.  He realized that the Artist had left the picture on the wall behind him.  He was drawing on Xiaoyu’s back without looking at the picture.  Xiaoyu realized that the picture was a teaching tool.  It wasn’t a sketch done by the Artist to have something to reference from time to time.  The Artist was drawing from memory; the picture had always been for Xiaoyu’s own instruction.

“
You said I will have to fight to earn the Mark
,” said Xiaoyu.

“
Yes
,” said the Artist, “
Take comfort in the fact that many others have gone before you, it’s an ancient tradition.  Many have survived, though many have not
.”

“
How long will I have to fight
?” asked Xiaoyu.

“
One year for each branch in the family
,” said the Artist, “
Then you join the family
.”

“
Eight branches
,” said Xiaoyu, “
Eight years
.”

The integrity of the tattoo underscored the integrity of the process, meaning the tattoo had to remain intact.  Xiaoyu was given a four-week holiday.  It was lonely.  To keep the tattoo from smearing Xiaoyu was kept in a room on the ninth floor of the
Harbour Gate Suites
—garrisoned like a Jade Soldier.  He could order as much food as he wanted.  Everything would be taken care of, but he couldn’t leave.  For the first three days, he was not allowed to take a shower.  The Moons were strict.  The rule was reinforced by shutting off the water on the ninth floor.  For three days, he was the only guest booked on the ninth floor but he wasn’t allowed out, not even in the hallway.  He was frozen in place so the Moons could farm the tattoo—planting the right conditions to harvest the
Mark
.

Xiaoyu spent much of his four week confinement in front of the mirror.  Even without water the bathroom was useful.  Xiaoyu was an exacting ballerina.  He would stand on his toes and turn, angling his head to glimpse his own back.  The tattoo became an obsession.  He would stare at it—front side and back—and he would stare repeatedly, as if he had no memory of it.  As soon as he completed a full turn, seeing the entire thing from start to stop, he would rebalance and start all over again.  It didn’t look like performance; it looked like practice.  Xiaoyu’s mind reacted to solitude much like other minds did—he thought of the outside, as a side effect.  Being alone was being a virus, having his surroundings turn against him.  But unlike a virus his surroundings weren’t crowded; they were empty.  The path of the Jade Soldier had been carved for centuries and not only carved—mapped.  Xiaoyu’s confinement was not unique. The same was done with all would-be Jade Soldiers.  The confinement was meant to cutoff the outside world to give the two bonding time, the boy and his tattoo.  They would be together until the end.  How long, depended on the skill of the candidate.  Four weeks of no outside contact began the metamorphosis—the room as a cocoon.  The transformation from boy to Jade Soldier candidate was more steady and genuine than the transformation from boy to man.  A boy could grow old and stay true to his boyish nature; Xiaoyu didn’t have that option.  From the moment he was selected, his boyhood ended.  He was neither boy nor man, only a candidate.

              Xiaoyu didn’t take his candidacy for granted; he slowed the minutes.  Everything he introduced during those four weeks was meant to count for something.  Time taught him about itself.  It told him his minutes were best spent writing to his sister.  It also told him it wouldn’t give him many opportunities to do so.  He used a hotel envelope to record the address that he had painstakingly memorized, with so little light.  His challenge came with the empty pad of paper.  He had no idea how to fill it.  He started by ignoring the letterhead,
Harbour Gate Suites
.  By the time he finished writing, the letterhead remained the only true thing on the piece of paper.  The rest were things Xiaofeng would have wanted to hear.  He told her he had left for Hong Kong along side Li Xing.  He said that Baba and Mama thought it would be better for him and easier to get along with the other boys.  He said he was attending a special school and that he was making friends—something he had never done.  Making friends was something Xiaofeng had always wanted for her brother but something he had never been interested in.  To disguise what he felt was a telltale lie, Xiaoyu tried an appeal to his sister’s vanity.  He wrote that his teacher was impressed with his knowledge of Shakespeare, something Xiaofeng alone could take credit for.  He iced his cake by thanking her for her instruction and assured her it was paying off.  He didn’t bother to explain why he was writing from a hotel.  He finished his letter on a Saturday and waited till Sunday morning to give to his minder.  The minder made sure Xiaoyu stayed in the room.  The minder had to read the letter before Xiaoyu could request it be sent out.  The minder smirked at the boy’s ability to engineer a page.  The minder himself couldn’t lie better.  More to the point, the minder got the feeling the boy could outwit him if he really wanted to.   Realizing the letter was imagined from start to finish, the minder had no objection to sending it out.

              Sunday of the fourth week was bountiful.  Somehow, Xiaoyu had felt it.  A daylong restlessness came over him.  Blood traveling through his veins was so uncomfortable that he noticed.  His heart sped.  A sharp pain entered his stomach right beneath the navel.  Despite his restlessness, Xiaoyu didn’t move much at all.  He spent most of the day in bed falling in and out of consciousness, atop the covers.  During his third or fourth bout of consciousness, an eerie feeling came over him that increased the sharp pain beneath his navel.  The feeling lasted for most of twenty minutes, when Xiaoyu thought he heard a steady knock on the door.  Xiaoyu wasn’t the kind to react to nothing so he stayed put, waiting for another possible knock.  The person on the other side of the door felt another knock wasn’t acceptable so the lock turned and the door opened.

              The air that came in felt dry and stale.  Xiaoyu couldn’t say how many people there were but he knew there was more than one.  The minder was the first person to come into view.  He laid his right hand out as if presenting a product—the product was Xiaoyu.  The minder mumbled something then humbled himself at attention with his head at a 45-degree angle to the floor.  The next person to come into view had the movements of a false king.  He didn’t move like he had been taught the royal walk but like he had taught himself.  He was extra thin, noticeable even through his dark double-breasted suit.  He wasn’t tall.  He was the same height as the minder, who was considered only tall enough to guard one boy.  The man had a steady ambition that telegraphed through his eyes—the longer the stare, the clearer the message.  His ambition was of the purest quality.  It wasn’t a young man’s ambition it was an old boy’s.  He looked at Xiaoyu and gave a smile—so forced—his eyes betrayed his suffering.  His one saving grace was the lack of a tie around his neck, relieving the pressure of so much forced emotion.  His hair was full but his hairline receded.  His face was smooth except for the tops of whiskers above his lip—lips that were strangely dark for a non-smoker.  The man extended his right hand toward Xiaoyu holding his forced smile.  Xiaoyu didn’t trust the man or his hand but felt an enormous amount of sympathy for such a fake creature.  Xiaoyu had always used his wit to defend himself but felt nothing but pity for a defenseless creature.  Xiaoyu could read this man better than anyone else.  This man, despite all hints to the contrary, was very weak—a well-dressed coward.  He was the most similar creature that Xiaoyu had ever met, a natural-born underdog.  But this dog—unlike Xiaoyu—didn’t have the knack to protect himself.  Years before, he had done something that Xiaoyu didn’t have to.  He had succumb to his tormentors, become one of them.  This man had sold out.  Xiaoyu leaned forward on the bed and shook the man’s hand.  The man sat down on the bed next to Xiaoyu, in the fashion of an unfamiliar uncle. 

              “
Do you know of me
?” asked the man.

              “
No
,” said Xiaoyu.  The man leaned toward Xiaoyu with the same grin on his face.

              “
My name’s Deni Tam
,” said the man who leaned back for the name to take effect.  Xiaoyu couldn’t be sure if he had heard the name or not.  The moment grew awkward as if the time was pulling the man and Xiaoyu apart.  The man leaned toward Xiaoyu and spoke.

              “
I’ve heard a lot about you
,” said Deni, “
Very good things.  They say you’re brave and smart, always planning what to do next
.”  The man paused to see if flattery had any effect on the boy.  If it did, it didn’t register. 

              “
We are very much alike in that sense.  My mother always told me because I’m small I have to look before I jump—be careful where I land.  Did your mother tell you anything like that
?”  Xiaoyu shook his head.

“
She died the day I was born
,” said Xiaoyu.  Deni tried to play down his lack of information.

              “
That must be why you’re so brave
,” said Deni, “
Without your mother to tell you not to be afraid you had to be brave on your own.  Mother’s will baby their children forever
.”  Deni paused and looked out the window.  His eyes narrowed into the look of a vendetta.

              “
With no one there to baby you, you grew strong
,” said Deni, “
Do you know why you’re here
?”

              “
I was brought here
,” said Xiaoyu.

              “
That’s true for all of us
,” said Deni, “
Fate brought you here much like me.  It’s the choices that Fate brings that brought us here
.”

              “
I’m going to have to fight
,” said Xiaoyu.

              “
You’re going to have to live, same as any other day
,” said Deni.

              “
The Artist said I have to fight
,” said Xiaoyu.

              “
The Artist does his job well
,” said Deni, “
But fighting is only part of what I will ask of you
.”  Deni grabbed Xiaoyu’s hand curling it into a fist, slapping the top of Xiaoyu’s fist.

              “
The fight is in you already; that is where it will always be.  But it’s loyalty that we value.  That’s what we really want from you
,” said Deni, “
We like to think we value it more than the other branches.  It’s the first thing we look for.  They tell me you always use your head.  That’s the most basic form of loyalty.  You’re given a brain; you have to use it.  Otherwise you betray yourself.  If you betray yourself you’ll betray others
.”  Deni released Xiaoyu’s hand and stood up. 

              “
But that’s enough of the ancient wisdom for one day
,” said Deni, “
Even you could grow old listening to me rattle off the old teachings.  And we don’t want you to grow old trapped in here.  That would be a waste of your ability.  We’ll have more of our talks later.  You have three more days here and then we’ll come get you, so you can start training.  Sound good
?”  Xiaoyu nodded his head.  Deni regurgitated and reused the same forced smile before letting himself out.  The minder repeated three days until the end.  It was the first time Xiaoyu was told when he would be let out.

              The third day came late, not in time but in his mind.  Three days went by as any others would but for Xiaoyu the days were elongated by anticipation.  He had the
Mark
; the ink had dried.  But his candidacy was still fresh.  The knock on the door was subtle. Xiaoyu’s reaction to it was not.  He hopped from his perch on the bathroom counter top and answered the door, as if under orders.  Xiaoyu was expecting a horde:  Mr. Cheung; Uncle Woo and Deni Tam were all behind the door in his mind.  When the door opened, all he saw was the minder.  The minder had a bewildered look that was immediately echoed in Xiaoyu’s face. 

              “
Make the room so that it looks as though you were never here
,” said the minder.  He accented all but one syllable as if he had practiced the line over and over but screwed up. 

              “
I’ll wait outside, it should take you no more than ten minutes
,” said the minder sounding even more scripted.  Xiaoyu understood the minder was not used to giving orders.  He was so unfit for authority he couldn’t properly give orders when ordered to do so.  But Xiaoyu knew he wasn’t being ordered by the minder, he was being ordered by Deni Tam, a man he knew better after only one meeting.  Deni was a danger.  He recited ancient teachings so he could hide behind them.  Xiaoyu knew the difference because he had never been able to hide.  He had always been too obvious.  Deni had the benefit of looking like the others, but keeping the rest to himself.  It wasn’t what Xiaoyu saw that made him not trust Deni; it was what was covered up.  But Xiaoyu considered himself to have the advantage.  His eight-year-old exterior made others look at him from the wrong direction.  He knew his relationship with Deni would take the shape of a rainbow.  It would rise in multiple hues before it eventually fell.  In fact, Xiaoyu knew something even Deni didn’t know.  Their relationship would not end well. 

              The minder entered to inspect the room without looking like he knew what he was inspecting.  He looked around for several seconds and made the decision that his superiors wouldn’t want to wait much longer.  He told Xiaoyu to follow him and both left the room.  Xiaoyu noticed the minder naturally took a submissive role to match his surroundings.  In the elevator, the minder stood directly in front of the control panel and pressed the buttons like any attendant would.  The elevator let them out on the ground floor and the minder immediately took to the changed environment.  The lobby was wide and organic.  Like intestines, the plants, tables and chairs were stuffed into space with little regard for landscaping.  There was a tall tree in the middle of it all, which obscured views from all directions.  The minder nervously walked around with his head pivoting right-to-left, like prey.  A simple whistle was all it took and he was able to focus on two men with black sports coats.  The men were sitting in adjacent armchairs exchanging a few choice words at a time.