Chapter 9
Nine
Bon Voyage
The next morning, one of Big Wang’s Packards, an oversized black and chrome beast, idles in Fang Pang Road, one of the wider streets near Lake Heart Pavilion. The Packard would get stuck in the narrow streets if it tried to get closer.
Bullhead opens the back door. I’m about to climb in, but realise the back seat and the floor well is filled with suitcases. ‘You can sit in the front,’ he says, shoving my suitcase in a small gap near the roof.
‘What about Gigi and Ah Lang?’
‘Another car is taking them since Lady Gi needed more space for her luggage. Lord Ma and Big Wang are accompanying Tony and Lord Aengus. We’ll meet them there.’
We wind through the narrow lanes of the Old City, past the ornate the three-storey wooden townhouses favoured by senior ministers.
Occasionally a bejewelled facade glitters in the blue shadows of early morning.
The lanterns that light Gigi’s elegant home are doused, leaching the honeyed silkwood white.
Finally we pass through the North Gate of the Old City, a quiet moment where time seems to stand still before we are thrust into Henan Road and its frenzy of banners and neon light.
Bullhead isn’t much of a talker so we sit for a while in companionable silence. The great stone buildings lining the Bund flash by, gleaming gold from electric lights.
The Immortal Express is already at the platform, gently steaming in the early morning gloom.
Big Wang stands by the train chatting with Gigi and Tony.
Ah Lang and Lord Aengus are deep in conversation, while Horsey stands to the side, looking surprisingly relaxed.
Bullhead gives my luggage to the porters carrying Gigi’s convoy of trunks into the train.
The lustre has returned to Lord Aengus’s blond hair. He inclines his almost completely restored head. ‘Beauteous Lady Jing, this humble one basks in your noble glory.’
I smile, pleased that he’s looking so much better. ‘You can move your head! Queen Mother of the West’s treatment really helped.’
‘This humble one is honoured beyond compare! To bask in the glory of the venerable Great Goddess, Queen Mother of the West herself!’ Lord Aengus’s blue eyes go dreamy. ‘She embodies the balance of the five virtues with perfect harmony.’
Horsey and I share a look. I hurriedly cut in to avoid Lord Aengus reciting another epic poem. If that happens, we’ll never get on the train. ‘Lord Aengus, I see you’ve met Tony and Ah Lang.’ I offer a fist-palm salute to Ah Lang. ‘Noble Ah Lang, it’s good to see you again.’
Ah Lang offers me a fist-palm salute in return, and a gentlemanly bow.
‘Lady Jing. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to visit yesterday.
I promised Brother Zhu I would bring his gifts to Lord Yang first. We got to chatting and lost track of time.
Contain my apologies.’ He hands me a small silk brocade box.
‘Brother Zhu bade me bring you this token of friendship.’
I rarely get presents, so Brother Zhu’s small gesture moves me more than I care to admit.
With both hands I accept the box. The brocade is finely woven, a soft wisteria purple offset with silver.
There’s a lump in my throat, and I stumble a little over my words.
‘Heartfelt gratitude for Brother Zhu’s thoughtfulness. ’
‘Open it,’ Ah Lang says. ‘I promised to relay your reaction to Brother Zhu.’
I glance at Big Wang. Normally it’s considered rude to open a gift right away, but Big Wang nods.
‘If you insist,’ I say, excited to see what’s inside.
Nestled on a bed of purple silk is a jade bangle.
Even in the low light it gleams, as if lit from within.
Its colours are reminiscent of da bai cai, the humble cabbage: the luminous white of the leaf ribs and the crisp bright green of the tips.
The bangle also carries rich seams of purple, in the same delicate shade as the brocade.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I whisper.
‘Brother Zhu will be so happy you like it,’ Ah Lang says.
Gigi glides over to our group. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so sweet, Jing,’ she says. ‘We need to give you more presents. Brother Zhu originally chose an ugly brooch, but I knew you’d like this better. Here, let me help you put it on.’
It takes a little effort, but once over my hand, the bangle sits nicely on my wrist. I can’t help admiring it.
Gigi turns to Tony. ‘It is good to see you again, Mr Lee.’
Tony doesn’t respond, he’s staring at my jade bangle.
‘Mr Lee,’ Gigi says again, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips.
He startles, then offers her a fist-palm salute before bowing low. ‘Manifold apologies, contain this unworthy one’s lack of manners.’
‘Aiya, Mr Lee, no need to be so formal. Zijiren. I consider you kin.’
Mr Lee bows again. ‘This unworthy one borrows your noble light; ten thousand years of gratitude for your friendship and kindness.’
I roll my eyes. Gigi loves that ornate claptrap. She giggles. It sounds like trilling bells. For a moment I’m jealous at her effortless charm and elegance.
‘Come,’ Big Wang says. ‘Let me show you the train.’
We follow Big Wang up the metal steps into what I can only describe as the inside of an oyster shell.
The walls are a soft pink lacquered to a mirrored shine, inlaid with precious gems to create scenes from the Celestial realm where mountains of jade rise from mother-of-pearl clouds while coral and emerald birds nest in lapis and sapphire pine trees.
Gold velvet armchairs cluster around marble tables.
At the back of the carriage sits a white grand piano and a fully stocked bar.
‘Stop drooling, Jing,’ Gigi whispers. I make a face, but she’s too busy gawking at all the opulence.
‘That’s the lounge,’ Big Wang says matter-of-factly as he leads us to the next carriage. ‘In Paris,’ he continues, ‘we’ve arranged for you to stay at our diplomatic outpost where Lord Aengus can rendezvous with his healer. Special Emissary Ahn will meet you at the station.’
The dining carriage is no less impressive. Carved silkwood panels with gilded borders hang from the red lacquered walls. A circular table in the centre of the room shines like honeyed amber. More silkwood, given its lustre and colour.
‘Your sleeping cabins are through here,’ Big Wang says, and we step into a silkwood hallway that reminds me of Gigi’s home in the Old City. Halfway down the corridor, two lanterns hang either side of the panelled doors, their lattices backed with silk for privacy. Big Wang opens them.
‘This is your room, Lady Gi and Ah Lang.’
The top parts of the wall are pale yellow silk and carved wood panels, but that’s all I can see because piles of huge wooden trunks block everything from view.
‘You look like you’ve brought every stitch of clothing you own and then some,’ I say. I count her trunks. ‘SIXTEEN? Are you moving to Paris?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jing. It took me ages to pare down my travel wardrobe. I had to leave so many things behind.’
‘Oh Petal, you are far more beautiful than any item of clothing,’ Ah Lang pipes up.
The two exchange a sappy look and I pretend-gag to make them stop. It doesn’t work.
‘Pish. You’ll be grateful when you run out of things to wear and you come begging for me to lend you something spectacular.’ She cocks her head. ‘Seriously though, Jing, I think I would move to Paris, if I had the chance. It’s the city of romance, after all. What about you?’
‘Leave yin Shanghai?’ I try to imagine it, but can’t.
My days are shaped by those dear to me – I wake to the sound of Old Zao singing in their kitchen and the smell of steaming xiaolongbao.
Mornings, Horsey drills me on the Classics, though more often than not he spends it lecturing me for some infraction or other.
Afternoons, I gossip with Madame Meng over tea and visit with my pixiu.
Evenings I eat with Big Wang, while Bullhead keeps me company when I have my midnight snack and daily glass of blood and then play kanhoo with Gigi until the wee hours of the morning.
Take that away . . . The thought makes my chest hurt.
‘You’re really considering it?’ Gigi’s teasing tone pulls me from my thoughts.
The others wait politely for my answer, but Big Wang’s eyes are crinkled at the corners in an unfamiliar way – he looks nervous, or worried. ‘Are you okay, Big Wang?’ I ask.
‘Mmmgh,’ he says, his expression back to his usual unfathomable mahjong face.
Perhaps I imagined it.
Turning to Gigi, I shake my head. ‘Willingly leave xiaolongbao on tap? Not in ten thousand years.’
Big Wang leads us down the hall to the next set of panel doors.
Two mahogany moon gates divide the long rectangular room into three areas; in the centre sits a table and chairs, with sleeping quarters at either end.
I can tell Big Wang chose the furniture – tapered cabinets, chairs with curved backs, a simple square table with legs that curve gently inwards at the feet: the clean lines of the Ming dynasty.
Big Wang nods to Tony. ‘Thank you for offering to share with Lord Aengus. It sets my mind at ease.’
I frown. This isn’t the arrangement I expected. I try to catch Tony’s eye but he’s studiously avoiding me.
‘Little Jing,’ Big Wang says, ‘let me show you to your room.’
My room is much the same as Gigi’s, but instead yellow silk walls, mine are soft blue. In a corner by the bed, my suitcase sits forlorn.
Once we’ve had the tour of the carriages, we return to the lounge. ‘You should be very comfortable for the duration of the trip,’ Big Wang says. ‘If you need anything, ask the kitchen crew in the last carriage. The train will arrive in Paris in one week.’
A long and loud whistle signals our departure. From the lounge windows, we wave to Bullhead, Horsey and Big Wang until we cross the Veil and everything outside is swallowed by a thick grey.
Gigi stands from her chair. ‘I’m going to go unpack. I hate wrinkled clothes.’