I laugh, startling the mortal, then just as quickly understand how much mafan this means for me. There is no way I can simply walk the mortal to Big Wang. My temper simmers, threatening to erupt. If I can’t get him safely to Big Wang I won’t get my glass of blood. All because the rotted mortal couldn’t tell the difference between real yin silver and a cheap imitation.
‘I hope you didn’t part with too many silver taels for this,’ I say, tone sharp with irritation and hunger.
He tries to shuffle away from me, which is a bit difficult since his legs are half-inside the burlap sack, and I’m holding onto the bi around his neck.
‘It was worth it! The old woman said Lord Lei blessed it himself.’
His earnest panic only angers me. Foolish mortal.
‘Lord Lei,theLord of Thunder? Bless this shit stick?’ My laughter is as harsh as the shrieking cicadas. ‘If this were a real talisman from the Ministry blessed by Old Lei, yes, that would grant you safe passage through Hell. But this? This won’t even get you passage into the nearest latrine.’
‘This humble one followed the most exalted and virtuous Yan Luo Wang’s instructions to the letter. This humble one paid what the learned and noble Yan Luo Wang said to pay the old woman.’
‘Oh for Hell’s sake, shut up with the courtly crap. I need to think.’
Without the talisman neutralising the scent of his blood and yang qi, the mortal will be a beacon to all yaojing. While the hypocrites look down on my weakness for blood, it’s not like they’re any better, drooling over mortal yang. I stand, brushing the dust off my dress. Understanding what I need to do to get this mortal safely to Big Wang does not improve my mood.
‘That’ – I point to the black card clutched in the mortal’s fist – ‘is what gets you into Hell. But without Lord Lei’s talisman—’
‘But this humble—’ His gaze darts to my pretty, shiny,sharpteeth. ‘Uh— I paid good money for this. Is Lady Jing sure—’
‘Hold your tongue if you want to keep it in your head. And don’t interrupt me.’
He cowers, then shifts to his knees and throws his arms out as he kowtows, over and over, knocking his forehead against the dirt. ‘Lift high your honourable hand, this humble, I mean, uh, I, most unworthy, I beseech your glory, lift high your honourable hand, lift high your honourable hand.’ His voice increases in pitch with each soft thud against the ground.
I tilt my head back to look at the starless sky, taking a deep breath. Big Wang always sayscount to ten, slowly, before you do anything rash.
‘Yi. Er. San,’ I count, and keep counting, nice and slow, until I hit ten. The irritation recedes, despite the mortal’s continued kowtowing.
‘Please,’ he whimpers.
His whimper incinerates my hard-won calm. The weak should never show their vulnerabilities. He might as well offer me his neck. This fool has no sense of self-preservation. The next time his forehead hits dirt, I step on his head. He struggles beneath the finely embroidered cricket and yellow butterfly of my blue silk slippers.Do not stomp his head into a porridge of bone and brain. I repeat this mantra three times – part of the anger management techniques Big Wang is making me learn. Then I count to fifty this time before I speak.
‘I am not going to eat you. I am not going to let you get eaten. For the love of holy yang, shut the fuck up.’
He finally stills. I curse Big Wang. He told me I should bring the ‘package’ directly to his private quarters in the penthouse of the Cathay Hotel. I can’t risk taking the mortal through the front doors. The hotel’s swarming with deities and demons attending the Ministerial Mahjong Council; they’ll be on him like locusts on a rice paddy. If he had a real talisman, we could walk straight through the lobby, even wander through the Mahjong Council, and none would be the wiser. Apart from my red eyes and sneezing and all the blisters that is. Without the talisman, the only feasible route to the penthouse is up the side of the building.
‘Lady Jing is not going to kill me?’ He gets up from his knees, slowly stands, and looks at me with doe eyes. My hand itches to slap him.
The mortal is a full head taller than me. Broad, with a strong jaw and long full lashes like a rotted deer. Not bad looking. Still, I suck my teeth. None of those things are going to make it any easier to carry a largelivinglump reeking of blood and yang through the streets of immortal Shanghai.
He holds his hand out to me. ‘I’m Tony. Tony Lee.’ His voice, like his hand, trembles.
My instinct is to swat his hand away; how dare he presume to touch me without invitation. Instead, mindful of my temper and my task, I grab his outstretched hand, and in one motion swing him over my shoulder like a fur stole, his body curved around my neck, legs dangling over one shoulder. It’s not very comfortable. Especially as he is trying, unsuccessfully, to escape my grip.
‘Lady Jing! Please! This is unseemly!’ His voice is squeaky with indignation.
The closeness of his pulsing blood makes me grit my teeth. His head hangs over my right shoulder; I have a clear view of his face and he of mine.
‘Mr Lee, listen to me carefully. You do not have a valid Lei talisman. Do you understand what that means?’
He stops squirming. His silence tells me he does.
Big Wang might be the King of Hell, but it’s the Ministry of Thunder and Storm that controls passage through Tian – the Celestial lands and the realms of Hell. Without the talisman, he might as well be wearing a flashing neon sign that says:Free Buffet.
‘I will bring you to Big Wang. But if you want to make it there alive with your prenatal qi intact, keep yourself tucked in tight around me and your mouth pinched shut. The smell of your yang qi is most noticeable when you breathe. Hell is full of hungry spirits, and you, mortal, make for a mouth-watering midnight snack.’
Two
