Chapter 44
Forty-Four
Remorse
The dizziness from the shift takes a little longer to abate than when Lord Black shifted us.
When I can stand without swaying, I’m thankful the Hall of Preserved Harmony is empty.
It’s past noon. If my memory serves, Niang Niang ought be in her room, the one overlooking the lake, eating lunch.
I make my way through the pavilions and wisteria-covered walkways towards the highest point of the palace where Niang Niang keeps her quarters.
I pass a few courtiers but, like before, they avert their eyes and pretend they don’t see me.
I shove open the heavy silkwood doors and march into her room.
She wears nothing but a pale pink lace bra and a pair of matching panties, sitting before a table laden with delicacies, and sips the peach blossom tears soup she has at every meal.
She raises her gaze, but on seeing me her face twists into an ugly sneer.
She slams the bowl on the table, splashing soup everywhere.
‘How dare you enter my rooms without permission,’ she snarls.
‘You are lucky I’m here at all. We found my father in the shrine. He was pinned with talismanic daggers.’
She turns away. ‘I have no interest in—’
I raise my voice, keep talking. ‘Can you imagine? He was still alive.’ It gives me some satisfaction to see her pale at my words.
She knows well what those daggers can do.
‘Anyways, we released him from his century of torture. For that alone, I will always be grateful. I saw her, you know. My mother. She’s been here all along, waiting for my father. ’
‘She’s alive? Impossible,’ Niang Niang says, answering her own question. ‘I saw her with my own eyes. They killed her. You’re lying!’
‘There’s no question my mother is dead. It was her ghost I saw.’ I stroll over to the table, inspect the various delicacies as my grandmother tries to decide if I am, in fact, lying.
There are a dozen small dishes: the usual steamed fish with ginger, braised tofu, roasted pigeon, two bowls of quail eggs, one raw the other tea-steeped, the fine-webbed patterns from cracked shells imprinted on their smooth surfaces, plus a bunch of different vegetables, pickled, braised, steamed.
There’s also a bowl of crimson yangmei; my mother’s favourite fruit.
I pluck one of the dimpled berries and pop it in my mouth.
It bursts with juice; tart and sweet – the first time my mouth has watered for a food in a while. I keep the pit in my mouth to suck it clean, grab two more and shove them in. Between bites, I say, ‘My mom loved yangmei.’
My grandmother stands, chest heaving, and points at the door. ‘You lie. Yaojing do not become ghosts. Get out! You are not welcome here!’
‘Then who would admire your new lingerie? Really perks up your saggy old girls.’ I throw her a squinty smile and mime pushing up my ta-tas.
Her face goes pink and shiny. If she were standing, I’m pretty sure she’d stomp her foot.
I eat another yangmei. ‘I know what you did. The demon hunter you hired. My mom kept looking for my father. She found the shrine, but the demon hunter killed her.’
Fear makes its home in my grandmother’s shocked gaze. She trembles, then slowly drops into her chair, shaking her head and muttering to herself.
‘My mother died because of you. You as good as killed her.’
She tries to deny it. ‘No.’ But her voice is weak and as broken as her confidence.
‘You stole her husband; you stole my father; you stole my whole family from me.’
Her words are barely a whisper. ‘I have regretted that choice every day since she died. Leave and never return. I cannot bear to look at you; you remind me too much of her, of my mistakes.’
‘I love my mother. I can see you loved her too, in your own twisted way. So I’m here to tell you that I saw my mom and dad board a ghost ferry. Lord Black says they will arrive in yin Shanghai tomorrow morning.’
‘But yaojing do not—’
I shrug. ‘Lord Black says only Madame Meng knows. We can ask her, but that’s not important. What’s important is that you’ll have a chance to apologise and to say goodbye.’
She’s silent for a long time, staring blankly into the distance. I’m about to leave when she whispers, ‘After everything I’ve done to you, why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I don’t want to make the same mistake.’ This, I decide, will be my last peace offering. ‘Big Wang is hosting a family dinner tonight. You are my only remaining family on the hulijing side. I’d like it if you came. And in the morning, we can meet my parents together.’
She doesn’t answer.
I can’t force her, so I turn to go. At the door I pause. ‘Don’t let your pride stop you from doing what your heart needs. She looked really happy, Niang Niang.’
Halfway down the hall, I hear footsteps and then, ‘Jing, wait!’
Niang Niang runs after me; she’s thrown on a deep crimson silk gauze over-robe. In her hands she clutches a silk bundle.
‘Take this,’ she says, voice rough, and shoves it into my hands.
I open the bundle. Inside are two letters and a torn leather book. The other half of my father’s journal.