Chapter 40
Forty
Reunion
After a week of travel, we burst through the thick fog into the blue-tinged twilight of home.
Familiar sights flash by, like flipping through pages of a picture book: a yaojing pulling a wagon piled high with cabbage; a row of weathered warehouses; an arched entrance to shikumen guesthouses; a trio of ghosts, bathed in neon lights, waving at us as we speed past. I wish the train would slow down so I could linger on every detail.
‘What are you grinning at, Jing?’ Gigi asks, closing one of her many suitcases.
‘We live in a pretty great city.’
Gigi mirrors my smile. ‘That we do. We’re almost there. Let’s go wait by the door.’
With a screech of metal and a long, loud whistle, the train pulls into the platform where Big Wang, Horsey, Bullhead, and even Old Zao await us.
‘Welcome home, Little Jing,’ Big Wang says. He puts his giant hand on my shoulder, squeezes gently, an effusive display of affection for Big Wang.
‘Thank goodness you’re back, Lady Jing,’ Horsey says. ‘The days have been very dull without you.’ With a great sniff, Horsey bursts into tears. His reaction is both touching and ridiculous.
I laugh, but am somehow crying. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’
Bullhead says nothing, but there’s a telltale shine to his eyes.
‘I’ve missed you, too, Lord Nioh.’
‘Mmmgh,’ is all I get in reply.
‘Don’t let Lord Nioh’s stoicism fool you,’ Old Zao says. ‘He’s been very morose. Lord Ma is right, we have missed you, my dear.’
At Old Zao’s nudging, Bullhead gifts me a shy, gap-toothed smile.
The others disembark behind me. Ah Lang and Gigi are followed by Lord Aengus, who elicits a startled hiccup from Horsey, and finally, Tony.
Big Wang’s gaze swings between Lord Aengus, who I was supposed to deliver to his healer in Paris, and Tony. A brief pucker appears between his brows. I wonder if Big Wang senses the change in Tony, but I don’t have time to ponder that question because the Durands step off the train.
‘Big Wang, let me introduce you to my vampire family,’ I say.
‘This is my grandmother, Aliénor de Durand, my half-sister, Marianne, and half-brother, Max.’ I turn to the Durands.
Max gapes at Big Wang, while Marianne’s eyes are wide.
Mémère, however, takes his girth and height with aplomb.
I nod in approval, and say, ‘This is Yan Luo Wang, my adoptive father, and King of Hell.’
Marianne translates, trilling like a songbird.
Mémère folds at the waist, honouring Big Wang with a low bow. Marianne and Max follow suit.
Marianne says, ‘I speak for the matriarch of House Durand. We have long admired the esteemed Yan Luo Wang. Borrowing Lady Jing’s noble light, by your fortune we arrive in Tian and offer ten thousand years of good health to venerable Yan Luo Wang.’
Big Wang makes that non-committal noise, half-acknowledgement, half-grunt. ‘Mmmgh.’
He seems impressed by Marianne’s courtly piss-fart, but he stays silent, bordering on rudeness before saying, ‘Welcome to yin Shanghai. It is an honour to meet Lady Jing’s paternal family.
’ He bows, not quite as low as they did, but for a yaojing of Big Wang’s rank, he gives them great face.
‘I’ve arranged accommodation for you at the hotel.
Tomorrow morning, Jing will lead our delegation to Turquoise Hills.
If you don’t mind, we can wait for our reunion dinner until after your return.
‘The Durands are with me. Gigi, Ah Lang, Tony and Little Jing are with Old Zao; you can go home, rest and meet us in the morning. Lord Aengus is with Lord Ma. My attendants will take care of the luggage.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Tony says to Lord Aengus.
Big Wang gazes at Tony, eyes glinting red. I get a small pang of satisfaction to see Tony swallow nervously as he passes Big Wang to join Lord Aengus and Lord Ma.
We pile into our designated cars and leave the station in a convoy of Big Wang’s Packards, black behemoths gliding through the shadowed streets of Immortal Shanghai.
Old Zao doesn’t immediately ask about Tony. Instead, they update us on all the neighbourhood gossip: the hook-ups, the break-ups, and all the drama in between.
As we rumble along the Bund, passing the Cathay Hotel, Old Zao says, ‘You won’t believe what happened when a certain Minister got caught playing footsie with his husband’s new assistant.’
‘Minister Gu, I bet!’ Gigi says. ‘I don’t blame him. I’ve seen his husband’s assistant, Mr Ke. So handsome.’ She fans herself.
Ah Lang gasps quietly, a stricken expression on his face.
Gigi pats his cheek. ‘Of course, no one is more handsome than my Ah Lang,’ she coos, which seems to mollify him.
Old Zao chortles. ‘Why yes, it is indeed Minister Gu. In a jealous rage, his husband confronted him in the middle of the Hall of Harmony when the Council was in full flow, screaming at Minister Gu that Mr Ke was his love, and he didn’t want to share.’
‘Wow,’ Gigi says. ‘The Council hasn’t had anything this exciting happen since Jing took to setting hulijing ministers on fire.’
‘It only happened the once,’ I mutter to the window.
We glide through the North Gate of the original fortified wall of the old city, the Packard barely fitting through the low tunnel.
‘The twist is still to come,’ Old Zao trills.
‘It turns out, Mr Ke is himself already married. His wife turned up at Council that evening, brandishing cleavers, ready to chop Mr Ke into pieces and offer them up as a sacrifice to her ancestors. The Hall had to be evacuated and the North Wind Division called in.’
The Packard rolls to a stop in front of Gigi’s house: a small single-storey dwelling, notable for its clean, simple lines and complete lack of ostentatious detail.
There are no jewel-encrusted balconies, no facades dripping with jade, lapis, coral, silver, gold.
No carved reliefs, no strings of pearls tinkling in the breeze.
The house is understated and elegant, only the gleam of silkwood giving away its Celestial lineage.
Gigi and Ah Lang wave us off.
As soon as we are alone, Old Zao asks, ‘What happened between you and Tony? And why does he smell different?’
I knew the questions would come and spent some time thinking about the best way to answer. The first and most important thing is to ensure Tony isn’t made to feel ashamed for who he is. I say, as nonchalantly as I can, ‘Tony is vampire now.’
Old Zao slams on the brakes, throwing their arm out in front of me. ‘He’s what now?’
Luckily I wore my seat belt. I don’t know a lot about physics, but I’m pretty sure an arm won’t stop me from flying into the windshield.
A couple of rickshaw drivers swerve around us and shout fruity curses about intimate relations with our mothers and with eighteen generations of our ancestors.
Old Zao rolls down the window and leans out. ‘You don’t have the stamina!’ they holler after the drivers, shaking their fist for good measure. ‘Come back here, you rotted egg! I’ll show you who’s gonna—’
I cover my ears and sink low in my seat, trying to block out Old Zao detailing all the things they’ll do to the rickshaw drivers’ mothers’ ancestors, and Tian knows who else. Their tirade is long enough and loud enough for heads to start poking out of windows and doors.
‘Let’s keep driving, Old Zao,’ I whisper. ‘People are staring.’
‘Young ’uns these days have no manners.’ They roll up their window. ‘We are going nowhere until you tell me everything.’
Old Zao is rarely stern with me, but when they are, they are intractable.
My timing is the worst. I should have stalled until we got home, barely five minutes from here. At least I practised how to tell all the pieces of this convoluted puzzle in a coherent way.
I take a deep breath and recite: ‘Because I’m the only one who inherited my father’s ability to gift immortality, I was named heir of House Durand, trumping my half-brother’s claim to the title, even though he has been preparing for the role for centuries.’
Old Zao interrupts my prepared monologue. ‘Is that Max we met at the train station?’
‘The very one.’
‘I thought he looked squirrelly,’ Old Zao quips. ‘What a bad egg.’
‘Indeed.’ The next part is harder to say and comes out in a rush. ‘Since Max has fermented-turds for brains, he decided drinking Tony’s blood would be a fun way to deal with his jealousy. Turns out vampires have pathogens in their saliva which can trigger a deadly illness in mortals.’
‘He made Tony sick?’ The catty tone is gone from Old Zao’s voice. I can feel their gaze, but if I look at them, I won’t be able to finish what I need to say.
‘Bingo.’ I struggle with the next part. It comes out hoarse. ‘I had to choose between a world with Tony and a world where he doesn’t remember me.’ I hang my head. ‘I made a choice I knew he didn’t want and he hates me for it.’
There’s also the promise I made that night to Mémère. I’ll tell them after we find my father.
Old Zao blows out a long breath. ‘One day, you will look back and see this as one of the many challenges which shaped your life. You’ll get through this, I promise.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ I say, my voice trembling. ‘But Old Zao, right now, it really hurts.’
Once I’ve washed up, I choose an emerald green qipao, one of Horsey’s favourites, and walk over to the Cathay Hotel.
I could walk the route in my sleep, it’s as familiar as my own face.
Down the Quai de France, past the white-washed wooden houses holding tight to the old city walls, across the tram lines, past the Angel of Peace statue, the bustling docks.
Fisherman Lo stands at the back of his sampan, a slip of a boat with a covered seating area, leaning on a weathered yuloh oar.
An unlit cigarette dangles from his mouth.
When he sees me, he raises a hand in greeting, just as he does every morning when I pass by on my way to Big Wang.
My throat closes as I add him to my list of goodbyes.