In between sneezes I gesture to Madame Meng’s. ‘Bring Mr Lee. Big Wang will want to see him.’ Not strictly true, but I can’t stop sneezing long enough to say more.
Captain Zhao jerks his head to his guards who surround Mr Lee and Mafan and bring him along.
We are herded down the Bund like a dysfunctional ghost-wedding procession. Except our guests are dour-faced guards. A few have their gazes trained on Mr Lee, their nostrils flaring as they smell his yang. The sneezing is relentless. Tears stream down my face as I stumble forward. We take up the entire width of the Bund as we sweep towards the hotel. Crowds of ghosts part for us to pass, staring in curiosity.
Captain Zhao and six of his guards squeeze into the tiny lift with Mr Lee and me. The small space makes the garlic around my hands, tucked into the guards’ pockets, and the silver bi Zhao carries, unbearable. I hunch against the wall, trying to distance myself. Impossible in the crowded lift as I hack and sniffle and sneeze.
When the lift releases us, I tense, ready to leap across the rooftops. Let the rotted guards chase me. They aren’t as fast as I am. Before I can get anywhere, a huge hand settles on my shoulder, holding me in place. Big Wang. He turns me to face him and unravels the rope from my wrists.
‘Why do you always do things the hard way?’ The familiar low rumble, that tone he always uses when he’s disappointed in me, sets my teeth on edge.
‘It wasn’t me!’ My voice is more whine than I intend, but I no longer care that the guards are watching. ‘I smelled Soo in the Treasury. It was her.’
‘Let’s talk inside.’
‘Why won’t you believe me?’
‘Enough, Little Jing.’ He laces his words with a hint of Celestial voice. ‘We have things to discuss.’
Captain Zhao gives Big Wang a crisp salute and leaves, as if he can’t get away fast enough.
I shuffle behind Big Wang, meek, obedient, resigned. Thumbing my nose at the guards is one thing; but I owe my life here to Big Wang. He never stoops so low as to rub my face in it, but even so, I never forget. I would be unforgivably foolish to bite the hand that brings me my blood.
Big Wang nods as he passes Mr Lee. ‘You too, Mr Lee. Come.’ He pauses, sees that Mr Lee is holding Mafan, and plucks the sword from the mortal’s grasp and hands it back to me.
A black-robed guard opens the terrace door for us. I recognise him. Captain Ren. He’s one of Bullhead’s most trusted captains. He’s head of the North Wind troop which was tasked with making sure I didn’t go streaking through Shanghai. Evading the guards was actually a lot of fun, though the guards never thought so. I also don’t think this particular guard has forgiven me for kneeing him in his virtuous peaches.
He blocks my way with an outstretched arm. Hmm. Definitely hasn’t forgiven me.
‘Captain Ren.’ I give him my demurest, most lady like bow.
‘You can’t bring that in with you.’
‘I don’t think I heard you right. What did you say?’ No one has ever stopped me from entering Big Wang’s quarters before, and certainly no one has ever tried to take anything from me. Usually it’s the opposite, trying to cover me in robes or blankets.
‘You can stand down, Captain Ren,’ Big Wang says.
The Captain salutes, standing immediately to attention. ‘Honourable Big Wang, Lord Nioh made it very clear no one was permitted in your quarters with weapons. He did not expressly exclude Lady Jing. I will be punished if I disobey my orders.’ He says all this in a forceful monotone. He still has his arm extended, so I can’t follow Big Wang.
I move to unsheathe Mafan, but Big Wang gives me a look to saywait. ‘How about I take the sword, and you let Little Jing pass?’
Captain Ren nods stiffly. I hand the sword to Big Wang around the Captain’s outstretched arm, which he drops as soon as the sword is out of my hand. I lean close as I pass him.
‘I miss our old games of cat and mouse,’ I say sweetly. ‘Maybe we can play again soon.’
His left eye twitches and I throw him a saucy wink.
We enter a large room filled with elegant furniture. Big Wang has a soft spot for the simple lines of Ming era furniture – four huali horseshoe-back chairs surround a low table. I spent hours practising my characters here, brush stroke after brush stroke, my only company, apart from a droning Horsey, were the funny faces made by the huali wood whorls. Big Wang’s fancy electric lights hum softly in the background. One of my paintings – a watercolour of Big Wang’s favourite tortoise – hangs on the wall opposite his desk.
Big Wang gestures for us to sit, so I sulk into my usual spot on the floor, while Mr Lee settles in one of the chairs, all bright-eyed and curious. I make a face but keep my head bowed low so Big Wang can’t catch me out. Small bowls filled with my favourite snacks dot the table: five-spice braised peanuts, dried cuttlefish, and crunchy fried dough knots sprinkled with powdered sugar. I snatch a knot and shove it in my mouth, chomping as obnoxiously as I can.
‘Nice suit.’ Big Wang leans Mafan against the wall then sits in the chair opposite me. ‘I recall Mr Lee wearing something very similar this morning. I’m guessing you and Little Gi have found harmony after your last game?’
I give him a non-committal shrug. He huffs; I think it’s more chuckle than irritation, but I’m never sure. He gives good mahjong face.
‘To the matter at hand. What did I tell you earlier today? Don’t cause any trouble. And yet, it’s not even noon and already you’ve caused a fire, insulted the guards, and tried to run.’ He shakes his head and exhales for a long time. ‘You are so mafan, Little Jing.’
‘I didn’t cause the fire. It was Soo. She was there to steal the dragon pearl.’
