Chapter 9 #3
‘I’m fine.’ The cold crawls up my legs over my stomach and settles like a block of ice on my chest. I focus on trying to get air into my lungs.
‘Could you maybe, move over a little?’ Mr Lee’s voice interrupts me mid-gasp. He gestures to my side.
It’s only now I realise I’m standing in the middle of the narrow bridge, and he’s squashed up against the railing in an effort to maintain a proper distance between us. I shift to the right.
‘Maybe a tiny bit more,’ he encourages.
‘I already have!’ My voice is shrill. I’m breathing in gasps. I should run ahead. Leave the mortal. But something is wrong with my legs. I can’t move.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
I can only nod. The railing looms too close for comfort and yet, if Mr Lee gives me any more room he’ll end up in the lake. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a big step to the side.
When I open my eyes, the water laps the edge of the bridge.
I imagine my foot slipping, the cold water slithering up my neck.
Not real, I tell myself. Not real. But the chill rises within me, its flinty tang fills my mouth, covers my ears, until I can’t tell if the water closing over my head is imagined or real.
‘Lady Jing!’ Mr Lee’s voice is muffled, like I’m already submerged.
The icy dark has me in its grip.
When I open my eyes, I’m in the tea room off Old Zao’s kitchen, laid out on one of the rattan daybeds. Despite the summer heat, I’m shivering badly, toes burning with cold. I sit up. A thick layer of blankets tumble off me.
Old Zao bustles in with a cup of hot tea. ‘Oh good, you’re awake. Drink this.’
I wrap my freezing fingers around the china cup, try to press the warmth into me.
‘You gave us a fright.’ They touch the back of their hand to my forehead. ‘You need to warm up. I’ll make you some blood bao.’ Old Zao gives me a coy look. ‘You are escorting a mortal around Shanghai. Any chance he might have had a run-in with some jiangshi the other night?’
I laugh into my tea. ‘Please tell me you didn’t let anyone eat him.’
Old Zao waves their hand. ‘Some bodyguard you are. You know better than to dawdle on the bridge. Last time you were caught in the rain, your primordial qi was badly drained. You might be immortal, but you are not invincible.’
I hide my face and groan. ‘Don’t remind me. It’s not my fault he was dawdling on the bridge and gaping like a tourist.’
Old Zao squeezes my shoulder. ‘Come on. Your little mortal is eating xiao long bao in the kitchen.’
They help me up and keep hold of me until they’re sure I’m not about to faint again. My stomach makes a loud gurgling sound. When I enter the steaming kitchen, Mr Lee immediately stands. The heat warms my skin a little but doesn’t reach into that chill in my bones.
Old Zao takes up their position at the table and starts making my xiao long bao. They triple the regular dose of blood cubes for each dumpling. I join Mr Lee at the end of the table where Old Zao has set him up with his own basket of xiao long bao.
‘You are well?’
I nod. ‘Apologies for frightening you. I should have told you, I’m not good on bridges. I—’ I gaze down at my hands, try not to fidget. ‘I don’t like water.’
‘All water? Or just large bodies?’
‘In a glass is fine, or a bathtub. Anywhere else, no thank you.’ I sigh. ‘Don’t mention this to Big Wang, ok? I don’t want him to think I’m incapable of chaperoning a mortal.’
Mr Lee narrows his eyes. ‘Talking to you is like squeezing blood from a piece of jade. Does he know how water affects you?’
I’m still feeling woozy, panicky, and cold. ‘We don’t talk about it. I’m usually very careful not to let it affect me.’
Mr Lee stills, a xiao long bao half to his mouth. ‘If it bothers you so much, why did you bring me here? Surely there are other places we could eat.’
‘I live here. And Old Zao makes the best xiao long bao.’
He looks at me like I’ve grown three heads. ‘You have a phobia of water, and yet you live in a pavilion in the centre of a lake.’
‘I like where I live. Being inside a building, up a flight of stairs, somehow that makes it okay. But bridges and water, I can’t linger.’ I shrug, unable to explain things better than that.
Mr Lee scratches his head. ‘These bao are indeed delicious. And I can’t fault the location. It is beautiful here.’
Old Zao puts a freshly steamed basket in front of me. They pass me a pair of chopsticks and a small dish of sliced ginger and black vinegar.
I pick up a mouth-sized parcel and take a careful bite. The taste makes me groan, it’s so good.
‘Yours are different from mine.’
I open my eyes to see Mr Lee picking up one of my blood bao. Before Old Zao can react, I catch the bao in Mr Lee’s chopsticks between mine. ‘You can’t eat that.’
He leans back. ‘Why not?’
I can’t bring myself to say it, feeling self-conscious about my need for blood.
Old Zao wades into the awkward silence. ‘I’ve added women’s herbs and pig’s blood for Lady Jing to recover her strength. Better you don’t eat hers; I will steam you some more.’
Mr Lee releases the bao; but my chopsticks get tangled with his and I lose my grip on the bao too. The xiao long bao splats on the table, oozing a crimson juice. We both stare at the broken dumpling, its reddish-black contents spilling from the translucent wrapping.
Old Zao sweeps the broken bao away with a cloth.
‘Please forgive my presumption,’ Mr Lee says. ‘You need your sustenance, especially since you fainted. Please.’ He gestures to my basket, curls of steam rising from the almost translucent dumplings.
I eat without pleasure, though with each bite the chill recedes. It’s been a long time since I was caught unawares.
‘I like the clothes, Lady Jing,’ Old Zao says as they join us with their own basket of xiao long bao. ‘They suit you. Though, I think it will take Lord Ma some getting used to, seeing you like that.’
The thought of Horsey’s frown puts me in a better mood. ‘I’m going to wear this outfit every day. The freedom is extraordinary. You should ask Lady Gi to make you a Western-style suit. I bet you’d look very modern.’
Old Zao strokes their dragon beard, nodding to themself. ‘Yes. Wouldn’t I make a grand entrance to the Mahjong Council?’
While Old Zao eats their xiao long bao, I glance at Mr Lee, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. ‘Mr Lee, could I mafan you with a little errand?’
He sits up, eager. Just as I predicted. ‘No mafan,’ he says. ‘What do you need?’
‘Run my qipao upstairs to my room?’
‘T-t-to your room?’ He balks, staring between me and Old Zao, no doubt scandalised by the idea of entering a woman’s chambers.
Old Zao has folded their arms, clearly waiting to see what I am up to. They know me well enough to know I’m spewing dog farts.
Channelling Gigi when she’s sweet talking one of Big Wang’s guards into letting her break curfew, I pull on a simpering smile, and press the back of my hand to my forehead.
‘I still feel a little woozy.’ I glance up at him, make that soft feminine mewl Gigi makes which seems to make the guards melt.
‘You’re right, I’m being silly. It’s only a few flights of stairs.
I’ll be fine.’ I stand, then make sure to sway very slightly while holding the table.
Old Zao breaks into a coughing fit. I don’t dare look at them.
‘No – Lady Jing, please, sit. I’ll do it. Where do I go?’
‘Up the stairs; please could you hang it on a hanger? There should be one near the clothes cabinet. Thank you.’
He disappears, clutching my dress.
‘Just so you know, you are the worst actress, ever,’ Old Zao whispers, their whole body shaking from repressed laughter.
I lean forward, not wanting to waste a single precious second. ‘I need a favour.’
Old Zao mirrors my posture, leaning in with a conspiratorial twinkle in their eyes. ‘Mmmhhhh,’ they say.
‘Have any of your little ears heard anything about Lady Soo and what she might be up to?’
When Mr Lee returns, we take our leave. I know where I need to go next – the Treasury. Apparently, the whispers have it that Lady Soo has been making enquiries about where the dragon pearl is being kept.
Mr Lee bows to Old Zao. ‘Abundant gratitude to the exalted God of the Hearths of Hell for your generosity and hospitality. Those were the best xiao long bao I have ever tasted.’
Old Zao bows in return and gives me a knowing wink. I don’t tarry on the bridge this time, I run ahead, carrying the sword of Hell and wait for Mr Lee on terra firma.
He pauses at the bottom of the stairs. ‘I know escorting me is a big inconvenience, and I appreciate your efforts. But—’
I try to dismiss whatever he’s about to say. I’m not in the mood. But he raises his hand, and something in his expression holds my tongue.
‘But,’ he repeats, ‘I’d like to return to the hotel.
You should rest. I don’t want you to put your health in jeopardy.
You— You don’t look well. In fact, your lips are still blue.
We can continue again later this afternoon, or even tomorrow.
And— Lady Jing, if there is something that makes you uncomfortable, or unwell, please do not lie about it.
I do not wish for you to suffer on my account. ’
I don’t know what to say. I’m good at fighting and insulting and spitting. I remind myself, this mortal is merely a means to an end. His gaze is soft and concerned and I want to pinch his eyes shut so he can’t look at me like that.
Focus, Jing. I have a goal today, and that is to be a thorn in Soo’s side. I nod, more to myself to stay the course. I change the subject. ‘I bet you’ve never met a pixiu?’
‘You mean those flying, furry, fire-breathing monstrosities? Aren’t they vicious and dangerous?’
‘The fiercest creatures of legend!’ I declare proudly. ‘Cutie and Puffy are the best. You’ll love them.’
Mr Lee frowns. He looks like he wants to say something, but then he clasps his hands behind his back. ‘Cutie and Puffy?’
‘The Jade Emperor gifted Big Wang a pair of pixiu shortly after I was brought to yin Shanghai. Big Wang let me name them.’
Mr Lee presses his lips together, failing to hide his amusement. ‘You named two of the’ – he clears his throat – ‘fiercest creatures of legend, Cutie and Puffy?’
He covers his mouth, but I can see his shoulders shaking.
I huff. ‘I was only seven.’
‘Very well,’ he manages between swallowed laughs. ‘Lead on, Lady Jing.’