Breaking Bamboo (47 page)

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Authors: Tim Murgatroyd

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Sci Fi, #Steampunk

BOOK: Breaking Bamboo
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Yun Guang nodded stiffly and the movement made his eyes narrow with pain.

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘How is it you look after me?’

Lu Ying placed her hands in her lap but was silent.

‘Why are you suddenly shy?’ he asked. ‘Do I offend you? I cannot believe you are afraid of me.’

Again she lifted her eyes until they met his own. Just as deliberately she lowered them.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Only, I fear indecorous behaviour and what it might become. It brought me here, you will recollect.’

She left, bowing politely – as surely one should to a noble Captain Xiao. A trace of her perfume lingered in the room.

The next day Yun Guang was apologetic.

‘Lady Lu Ying must forgive me,’ he said. ‘If I offended her yesterday it is entirely my fault.’

He began to cough up specks of blood. She leaned forward in concern. He waved her back and at last smiled.

‘I still lack company,’ he said.

Lu Ying felt herself blush.

‘Then perhaps I shall engage Commander Yun Guang in conversation.’

‘It would be welcome.’

They sat in an embarrassed silence for a long while.

‘If you speak, I cannot help but hear,’ she said.

‘What if
you
were to talk?’ said Guang. ‘My own voice wearies me. I’d sooner listen to you. Tell me, who is undertaking my duties? Who has replaced me?’

Lu Ying comprehended his fear exactly.

‘One who is loyal to you,’ she said. ‘Chen Song has been temporarily appointed as Commander of Artillery.’

‘Ah, Chen Song. That is good.’

Yet she could tell he was considering the news from many perspectives.

‘Do you know,’ he said. ‘I had a strange thought as I sailed into Nancheng at the head of the Relief Fleet. Indeed, a moment before the thunderclap bomb tore open my chest, I thought something entirely new. For me, at least.’

She waited expectantly.

‘But I am being tedious,’ he said.

‘No, I do not think so.’

‘Then I shall tell you.’

Yet he merely picked at the blanket, his large brown eyes downcast. Lu Ying noticed sweat on his forehead and that he was feverish.

‘I would be happy to listen,’ she said, quietly.

‘Then I will share my thought. Our ship was damaged in a dozen places. The decks were sticky with blood. I myself had taken a crossbow bolt in the shoulder yet dare not show pain, in case my men lost heart.’

‘You are brave,’ she murmured.

‘No, it was not bravery. To be brave one must overcome fear.

But I did not fear anything. Do you know why? I truly did not care what happened to me.’ He cleared his throat. ‘A wise friend once told me that about myself. He understood me better than anyone.’

‘You must not alarm yourself,’ she murmured.

‘Just before that thunderclap bomb exploded, I did not care what would happen to me,’ he repeated. ‘Who would miss me, after all? No one! Even my twin brother – oh, he has grievances you cannot imagine, Miss Lu Ying! Justified grievances, let me say, placed between us by one who should have taught us to be friends, one who betrayed. . . but never mind that.’

His feverish face grew thoughtful again.

‘Everyone knows a man’s body belongs to his parents and ancestors, for they granted him life. Yet I did not care what happened to my own body, so long as it was not too painful.

Even then there are ways of using pain. Or some kinds of pain.’

They both looked up, startled by a harsh laugh from Lord Yun’s chamber. Was the old man listening? Recently his madness had grown intense and inward-looking, so that his only reply to civil questions or remarks was a dark glower. Certainly he had shown little interest in Guang since his arrival, other than to ask fearfully whether his son was also a prisoner of Bayke.

‘I, too, have a thought,’ said Lu Ying.

He nodded and she noticed tears in his eyes.

‘When Father sold me to Wang Ting-bo,’ she said. ‘And left me along with a dozen similar girls, I watched him push a handcart of precious things down Peacock Hill. Then I realised he had already forgotten me. All Father cared about was packed in lacquered boxes on that handcart. Afterwards, part of me ceased to care what happened. Yet I always prayed my family would visit or send word.’

‘Did they?’

‘They never came. Years later I was told they had all drowned in a sudden flood. I was quite alone in this world until my next birth. And I half wished to hasten it, just in case I was reborn as someone happier.’

Lu Ying bit her lip. She had never said so much about her family. And to a stranger! An unforgivable weakness. Yet Yun Guang did not seem offended.

‘When I was young,’ he said, ‘I always longed to be a famous poet like my Great-grandfather Yun Cai. Think of it! All the explosions he caused were in people’s hearts. If I may say so, Miss Lu Ying, I’m sure you have caused a few such in your time.’

He coughed, and she thought it best to let him rest.

Another day. After Guang had taken his medicine they were talking humorously when both became aware of a watcher in the doorway. Dr Shih stood silently, looking between Lu Ying and Guang. She had no idea how long he had been there. His expression mingled doubt and exhaustion. A fleck of dried blood stained his cheek. He blinked irritably.

‘I hope you do not tire my brother,’ said Dr Shih.

Lu Ying could not help feeling ashamed.

‘We were. . . I mean, I was reminding Commander Yun Guang of certain droll characters in the Pacification Commissioner’s establishment. . .’

Her voice trailed. Dr Shih’s face, normally affable, hardened.

‘Oh, really,’ protested Guang. ‘It can do me no harm to smile now and then! Is that not so, Youngest Brother?’

Dr Shih flashed him a scornful look.

‘I am glad you have leisure to smile,
Eldest Brother
.’

He laid such strange emphasis on the name that Lu Ying looked up in alarm. Guang also flushed. Whether because of anger or distress she could not say.

‘Continue to enjoy your reminiscences of the noble folk on Peacock Hill,’ said Dr Shih. ‘Only do not laugh too hard. It might re-open your wound.’

He left with a slight bow and Lu Ying followed soon after.

She sat uncomfortably in her room for a long while. Could Dr Shih really be jealous of her conversation with Guang? One might think so. She paled at the thought of his assumptions about her. That she was trying to seduce the Hero of Swallow Gate. That she was perfidious and ungrateful. That she was, as Lord Yun had suggested, a mere whore.

The next afternoon, when Cao returned briefly from the North Medical Relief Bureau, Lu Ying hurried to greet her.

‘Madam! May I speak with you?’

Cao looked almost as exhausted as her husband. The stream of wounded had only abated a little. She leaned on the wooden counter of the shop and waited politely.

‘Madam!’ repeated Lu Ying. ‘Dr Shih believes I tire his brother through foolish talk and frivolous gossip. In short, that I am a bad influence.’

Cao’s eyebrows lifted a little.

‘He did mention something to that effect,’ she said

‘Oh.’ Lu Ying pursed her lips, her eyes blinking rapidly. ‘Well then, I shall cease to deliver Commander Yun Guang’s food and medicine as from today.’

‘Dr Shih seemed to think that would be a good idea,’ said Cao, smiling slightly. ‘But I told him, little harm comes from the conversation of a cultured lady. Especially one who has behaved with such decorum since joining our household.’

Now Lu Ying looked up.

‘How did Dr Shih reply?’

‘Merely by repeating that his brother needs rest. And there we left it. As you can imagine, we are reluctant for strangers to witness Lord Yun’s. . . bad days. Unfortunate gossip would diminish us all.’

This turn of events was unexpected. Lu Ying felt oddly elated, as though redeemed in some unspoken way.

*

Chen Song arrived at Apricot Corner Court on a fine horse, accompanied by an escort flying gaudy pennants – trappings that had once belonged to Captain Xiao. The latter gentleman was in no state to witness this theft of fortune. As usual he was in bed. His mood was surprisingly light-hearted. The terrible gash across his chest had drained away old poisons, just as a boil empties when lanced. He did not feel jealous of Chen Song’s success. In fact, his pleasure at seeing him was unreserved.

Lu Ying divined this as she sat on her divan, listening quite shamelessly to their conversation through a crack in the wall, a habit she had acquired in Wang Ting-bo’s harem.

‘You have been tardy in your visits,’ said Guang reproachfully, after their initial enthusiasm at being reunited had subsided.

‘You should know why better than anyone,’ came Chen Song’s muffled reply. ‘My life is no longer my own. Please resume your duties soon, then I can reclaim myself!’

Guang started coughing and Lu Ying frowned. She hoped this wonderful friend of his would not weary him with his clever jokes and asides.

‘Tell me,’ said Guang. ‘What is the news from Peacock Hill?’

At that name Lu Ying strained after every word.

‘Ah, it might be simply expressed,’ replied Chen Song. ‘The Wang clan hang onto power by their little fingers and at the same time extend their influence constantly. It seems nearly every appointee to public office is a Wang, or somehow connected to their family. I do not like it.’

‘Why?’ said Guang. ‘As long as they are capable.’

‘It is our tradition to appoint men to public office through the Imperial examinations! Did you not have to pass a test to become a commissioned officer? They go beyond themselves.’

A significant silence followed. Lu Ying could tell both were thinking.

‘If you put it that way,’ said Guang. ‘It doesn’t seem right, but His Excellency is a good man and loyal to the Son of Heaven.’

‘So far,’ conceded Chen Song. ‘So far.’

‘Why do you say that?’

Even through the wall, Chen Song’s sigh was audible.

‘There is talk,’ he said, reluctantly. ‘I have met with General Zheng Shun and other commanders more loyal to His Imperial Highness than to Wang Ting-bo. Some believe messages pass between Peacock Hill and General A-ku.’

‘That is a vile slander!’

Lu Ying half rose in alarm. Guang’s passion surely threatened his health!

‘I hope so,’ replied Chen Song. ‘There is more. It pains me to say this, Guang, but your patron, Wang Bai, receives strange visitors.’

‘No doubt he has spies within the city,’ said Guang. ‘There will be an explanation tending towards his honour, we may depend on it.’

Once more they were silent. Lu Ying wished she could reproach Chen Song for causing a nuisance. She understood less than half of what he meant except that it was unwise to trust the Wang family – and she could have told Guang that herself.

‘Consider this,’ said Chen Song. ‘How was it that when a replacement Pacification Commissioner was despatched from the court, he fell straight into Mongol hands? Yet other messengers pass with ease into the city.’

‘One may blame misfortune,’ said Guang.


Good
fortune for Wang Ting-bo and his family,’ said Chen Song.

‘It proves nothing,’ countered Guang.

‘What of the fact that the enemy so pointedly aimed their missiles at the ship carrying Wang Ting-bo’s first replacement?

As if they knew of his presence. We both noticed it.’

Lu Ying waited for Guang’s response. When it came, his voice was sombre.

‘I refuse to believe that so great and noble a man would stoop so low. As for his nephew, Wang Bai, I have every reason to feel gratitude. My promotion came through him. I am in his debt. Just as I am in yours. Rest assured, the Wang clan have proved their loyalty to His Imperial Majesty a thousand times.’

Chen Song laughed.

‘It is the next time I fear! But Guang, you are not indebted to anyone. The obligation lies in the opposite direction, both in Wang Bai’s case and my own. Too much modesty is a kind of blindness, at which point it ceases to be a virtue.’

‘You are a harsh judge.’

‘A clear headed one, I hope.’

Lu Ying’s ears pricked up. Was that the sound of liquid being poured? Loud, contented slurping?

‘My brother would not approve of this medicine,’ said Guang. ‘Too much heat, too much
yang
.’

‘Heat is good! Ah, I miss those evenings when the tables were covered with blank paper and the ink was mixed! When the wine and moonlight inspired us to verse! Then we lived as men should.’

‘My own poems were lamentable,’ said Guang, honestly.

‘You are the fully-examined scholar here. I am just a soldier.’

‘Your great-grandfather was a poet to rival Li Po himself!’

Her attention wandered as the two friends drank and joked.

She might have ceased listening altogether, had not her own name jolted her.

‘What of the beautiful Lady Lu Ying?’ asked Chen Song.

‘Are you captivated, as our wise Pacification Commissioner once was?’

‘My body is so broken that the slightest ardour would be my last,’ joked Guang.

She blushed and leaned forward, eager to hear more.

‘Is it true your brother has not taken her as his concubine?’

Now Guang sounded serious.

‘Dr Shih has not. Believe me, it is a delicate matter.’

‘Then he is generous to provide her with food in times like these,’ said Chen Song. ‘Especially as she was forced upon him against his will. I have heard she is a vain, foolish creature. But generosity comes naturally to your family.’

‘You flatter us. Wang Ting-bo sends her ample supplies of food.’

Chen Song cleared his throat.

‘Perhaps your brother will be freed of his burden soon,’ he said. ‘I have heard rumours that Wang Ting-bo is on the point of sending his First Wife to stay with relatives in the capital.

Maybe he will summon back his former concubine.’

‘Perhaps.’

Lu Ying felt sure Guang’s voice was uncomfortable.

‘Well, we shall see,’ said Chen Song. ‘It is of little importance. Get better soon, Guang, so you can resume your former position. You are missed, my friend.’

He left as the third hour was beaten on the ward drum. The sound echoed from the Water Basin right up North Canal Street. Lu Ying’s heart fluttered at Chen Song’s news. Could her recall to Peacock Hill be imminent? She should be glad! So very glad! Yet, somehow, the prospect touched her with loss and disappointment.

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