Chapter 9 #2
Mr Lee does as she says. I move into the basics of the Big Dipper sword form, to check I can move freely. It’s better than I could have imagined. I gather my qipao and take the sword from Mr Lee.
He looks away. ‘It suits you. You look nice.’ His tone is flat. He’s clearly still angry with me. Is he lying, or does he really mean what he said?
The compliment throws me. I don’t know what to do with my hands. I pull at the suit, then put my hands in my pocket. Finally, I just turn away.
Gigi smirks at me. ‘They’ve been talking about going to the dumpling house opposite Madame Meng’s while they’re here. They seem really excited about it, so I suggest you stay well away if you want to keep your handsome mortal to yourself.’
I splutter, grasping for a response while also being pleased she gave me the info. I didn’t think she would. Puzzle pieces slot together – the dumpling house is next to the Treasury. They are going to try to steal the dragon pearl. I knew it.
Mr Lee offers Gigi another deep bow. ‘This unworthy one offers your exalted glory one thousand years of abundant gratitude for your borrowed light.’
The ridiculous verbal acrobatics makes me snort long and loud. Gigi pulls the same frog-frown that Horsey does.
‘Jing, you are so uncultivated,’ she says.
I slap my fist into my hand and give her a melodramatic bow. ‘A cornucopia of gold orchid gratitude for the honourable, fragrant one. Stay your beautiful steps; this humble one weeps as the lone petal falls from the plum tree and retreats from your glorious light.’
‘Oh, please. Humble one? What a load of turgid shite. You don’t have a humble bone in your body. Get out,’ she says, but her words lack bite. She’s already sifting through the piles of fabric on the table, no doubt preparing a wardrobe for her boyfriend’s visit.
I skip out of her house, pleased at my successful sleuthing, and at my new trousers. I practice different walks. Lifting my legs high, spreading them wide, squatting low. These trousers are genius. I’m never going back, no matter what Horsey says.
Though the night sky never lifts, the songbirds know it’s morning and tittering fills the lanes of the Old City.
Their tiny wings flash against the ever-gloom of Hell like twinkling stars.
A coral-throated sunbird flits across the narrow lane, its jade green tails dancing on the breeze.
I watch it soar over the grey tiled eaves.
‘You lied to me, again.’ Mr Lee says.
I ignore him and keep walking, but he doesn’t follow. He’s stopped in the middle of the lane with his arms crossed, face impassive. Tian. Pandering to his ego was not part of my deal.
‘You were safe enough,’ I say, annoyed at having to justify myself.
‘I almost died. How is that safe?’
‘Mild discomfort is nothing to whine about, mortal,’ I say with a snarl. ‘My job is to keep you alive and unsullied. Have I not already shown you I am more than capable of doing so?’
Mr Lee is unmoved by my show of anger. His top lip tightens, and instead of the cowering I had expected, he stands taller.
‘You may insult me, threaten me, abuse me. I willingly accept all of that because you saved this unworthy one’s life and deign to escort this mortal despite the task being beneath Lady Jing’s status.
However, I must speak plain. Lying is the path of cowards.
I cannot abide it. If something is dangerous, tell me.
I will do my best not to bring shame upon you with my actions, but only so long as you do not lie to me.
I cannot prepare if you don’t tell me what’s going on. ’
Lying is the path of cowards? He doesn’t know anything.
‘I—’ I start, intending to give him the scolding of his life, but his gaze is so open and trusting, it’s as if he’s used Celestial voice on me; I cannot bring myself to speak harshly to him.
‘I am not accustomed to honesty,’ I say, the words surprising me.
And they keep coming. ‘Lying has been the way of my world for as long as I can remember. Lies are the broken planks that keep me from drowning in all the shite that gets thrown my way.’
I am shocked by my confession, unsettled by our exchange and, despite knowing better, curious about this strange mortal.
He is a coward and fool no doubt, and yet, there is an unexpected fierceness in him too.
His eyes go from cold to warm and suddenly the connection is too much.
He opens his mouth, but I glare at him, then turn on my heel and stride away.
This time Mr Lee follows. As we weave through the tangled lanes of the Old City, he touches my arm.
‘I didn’t know you were so accomplished in court manners; you have a creative flair for expression,’ he says in a tone so sardonic I can’t stop my lip from quirking.
He smiles at me, his previous ire nowhere to be seen.
The tension between us is suddenly gone.
Balancing Mafan in the crook of my arm, I clasp my hands together at waist height, hold my arms stiff a handspan from my body, and stand like I have a sword pole shoved up my butt.
I mimic Horsey’s nasally voice. ‘Scholarship is the path to Propriety.’ I drop the uptight pose, return to my normal voice.
‘Horsey spent years drilling me on the classics. I know that drivel back to front.’
‘And you make such wonderful use of your knowledge.’
I finally smile. ‘I’m famished,’ I say, segueing the conversation towards my second destination. ‘Let’s go see Old Zao. They always have fresh xiao long bao.’ And the city’s freshest gossip.
If anyone knows about Soo’s movements, it’ll be Old Zao.
They have their statuettes in kitchens all over yin Shanghai; all the tea is whispered direct into Old Zao’s ears.
We wind through more narrow lanes, each house more ridiculously ornate than the last as we near Yuyuan Gardens.
Gold gilt, intricately carved reliefs, multicolour glazed tile eaves, facades dripping with lapis, jade, pearls, and coral.
Mr Lee gawps, his jaw dropping ever lower as we make our way to the heart of the walled city. ‘Our Old City definitely does not look like this,’ he says, eyes round as he takes in the ostentatious ornamentation.
‘Many of the ministers have homes here. They’re all a bunch of peacocks. Can’t help showing off.’
We pass under an arch decorated with dangling ropes of freshwater pearls. They tinkle as they sway.
‘Is Lady Gi the famous lady weaver?’ Mr Lee asks. ‘And Lang, the famous cowherd?’
I nod, unsurprised he should know her story. She’s famous in both the mortal and immortal realms.
Mr Lee presses a hand to his chest. ‘Tian. I’m meeting legends. The princess who snuck out of the palace and fell in love with a mortal cowherd! This is beyond what I ever imagined. Why is Lady Gi in Hell? I thought she lived in the Celestial realms.’
‘Well, stories have a tendency to take on a life of their own. Gigi never was bound to the palace, and Lang never was a mortal. He’s a son of one of the minor agricultural Celestials.
What got Gigi in trouble was neglecting her duties.
She spent all her time with Lang and completely forgot she’d promised to dress the Jade Emperor’s retinue for their first appearance at the Convention of Immortals, a prestigious international conference. Her dad—’
‘She’s really the Jade Emperor’s daughter?’
‘Yup. He grounded her and sent her to Hell as punishment. Big Wang is doing the Jade Emperor a favour by letting her stay here.’
‘I don’t understand,’ he says. ‘I thought only yao lived in Hell while jing all lived in the Celestial realm.’
I laugh. ‘No, yaojing live all over Tian! A lot of deities from the Celestial realm have second homes here; coming to Hell and its urban landscape is a complete change of scenery for the Celestial deities used to mountains and oceans. Many denizens of Hell also have second homes in the Celestial realms. They get to enjoy sunsets and starlight.’
‘You sound wistful. Have you never been to the Celestial realms?’ Mr Lee leans against a house covered in a delicate mosaic of silver, gold and ebony depicting a black dragon undulating through a wintry landscape.
‘I was born there, but I left when I was very young. Best not lean on that house, Mr Lee. It’s Lord Black, the Dragon King of the North’s holiday home. If you damage his portrait . . .’ I slice my finger across my neck.
He practically jumps to the centre of the lane, trying to hide behind me.
I think about telling him that Lord Black is unlikely to rise much before late afternoon, if he’s made it home at all, but the way Mr Lee keeps checking behind him like Lord Black is going to pop out from one of the paper screen windows makes me chuckle, so I keep that titbit to myself.
We turn a corner and step from the warren of Old City lanes into Yuyuan Gardens, a wild oasis of cascading willow trees, wind-carved stones, and lakes dappled with shadows and red pavilions.
We skirt around the lakes, towards the zigzag bridge that leads us to the Lake Heart Pavilion and Old Zao’s kitchen.
I walk quickly onto the bridge, but Mr Lee stops when we’re halfway across.
‘I hadn’t realised how neglected our own Yuyuan gardens have become. This place is extraordinary.’
As he turns on the wooden boards, taking in the scenery, the bridge creaks and groans beneath us.
My stomach growls and I’m impatient for Old Zao’s xiao long bao, but more importantly, my feet itch to get off the water.
When I’m in motion I can handle the fear.
But standing here makes me hyper-aware that I’m surrounded by water.
There’s no way I’m going to admit that weakness to a mortal so I force myself to stay with Mr Lee.
He strolls slowly, enjoying the views. All I want to do is swing him over my shoulder and run.
My chest goes tight. I find it hard to breathe.
‘Are you well, Lady Jing?’