I press my lips together, trying to keep the lava inside me from spewing out. I glare at the terracotta tiles. Lady Soo had called me a mongrel. Normally that wouldn’t bother me – I’ve heard that insult ten thousand times – but I’d been fetching drinks for her all through the three-day Council, listening to her hiss horrible things about me and my dead mother. She’s the kind of person who searches for a tender spot, then gouges at it with her nails. Of course I lost my temper. It’s why I have to take anger management lessons.
‘I was there,’ the mortal pipes up.
We all stare. How dare a mortal insert himself into yaojing affairs?
He swallows, but after a moment plants his feet and folds his hands at his waist. ‘What Lady Jing says is true. A woman in yellow said, “Big Wang is a bigger fool than I thought”, and then “Wang’s an imbecile if he thinks we’ll accept that mongrel as an equal”. The woman doesn’t like the bank project and wants a dragon pearl to help stop it.’
My face goes hot but Big Wang tilts his head and scrutinises the mortal.
‘I see,’ he says and turns to me. ‘Little Jing, stay away from Lady Soo. As I said, I do not want anything to distract the ministers from the plenary session. We need our banking system in place before war erupts in the mortal world and joss money all but dries up. If we miss this window, by the time the next Ministerial Mahjong Council comes around, it will be too late.’
Frustration wells. ‘But—’
‘You did well, getting Mr Lee here safely. Enjoy your drink.’ With that, Big Wang leads Mr Lee into his quarters.
The casual dismissal irks. I should tell him about the talisman, but why waste my qi when he never takes me seriously. He wasn’t even bothered about the dragon pearl. I shake myself. Stupid to care more about his reputation than he does. Stomach growling, I head for the glass of blood. The apprentice jumps when I appear too quickly next to her. I know she’ll end up whispering about me, but right now the blood rush is strong enough that I don’t care. My senses are magnified. The slight fizzing in the glass is as loud as crashing waves to my overstimulated senses. My mouth waters. I snatch the glass, but the ever-present weight of Horsey’s disapproval presses me back to myself. I am not in the mood to fake smile through another one of his lectures, so I force myself to slow down, to sip, but even then, I drain the tumbler in seconds. It’s all I can do not to lick the inside of the glass.
The effect is instantaneous. The blood rush rips through me with the exuberance of a firecracker. I sink to my knees, exalting in the energy chewing through my veins. The apprentice hurries away, my obvious enjoyment distasteful. Fuck her. I close my eyes and see with my senses – Bullhead and Horsey’s yin glows green. The darkness forever cloaking immortal Shanghai comes aflame with light that pulses and shimmers with great brushstrokes of golds and russets and silvers, staining the sky with the colours of hulijing.
Four
Blood Rush
Bullhead and Horsey’s hands grip under my arms and they drag me to standing. The world spins and I feel like a child again, belligerent and angry.
‘Ladies do not kneel wherever they wish and cackle like old crones,’ Horsey mutters sotto voce, and with a fair amount of venom.
I’m too far gone in the blood rush to care. Let him lecture.
The muscles have melted from my body. I have to jerk my head to look him in the eye, but I misjudge; my head rolls right back so my view is of the velvet sky, forever black.
‘Why can’t we have stars?’ I ask no one in particular. ‘Rotted-turd steel girders shaped like turtles? Oh yeah,thosewe have to have. But a few tiny stars to speckle the sky, that’s anindulgence.A little light in the dark to keep me company. Is that so much to ask?’
Bullhead looks at me, a softness in his gaze, his mouth downturned. I’m about to ask him why he looks so sad, but then my head lolls forward and shiny orange tiles snag my attention. ‘I bet that’s the colour of my tail. If it ever shows itself.’ I giggle. ‘It’s hiding in my butt. You wanna help me pull it out?’
‘Get a hold of yourself, Lady Jing,’ Horsey grinds out. He sounds like he might crack a tooth, he’s clenching his jaw so hard. The green glow of his yin pulses with his irritation.
‘Neeeeiiggggh,’ I say, unable to help myself. I swing my head to look him in the face. I have to squint because bright circles mar my vision. But I can sense that frown anywhere. ‘C’mon, Horsey, turn that frown upside down.’
‘Y-you insolent child. How dare you!’ He drops my arm and stalks off.
Hee hee.Hells, he’s so easy to wind up.
Bullhead drags me to a nearby chair and I slump forward onto the table. The marble surface is cool against my cheek.
‘You really shouldn’t bait Lord Ma that way. You know he’s sensitive about his appearance.’
‘Then he should quit nagging me about how a lady behaves. I am no lady.’ My words slur.
‘It is your title. And it’s time you stop shirking your duty and claim your position at court.’
‘With that pit of vipers? All they do is prance around half-dressed. No thank you.’
His expression pinches tight; his motto in life is very muchit is what it is. He refuses to be drawn into criticizing those razor-tongued hulijing. I pick at a small crack in the edge of the table. Why can’t someone be on my side for once? I stick my tongue out but the effect is lost as I tip sideways in my chair. Bullhead discreetly pushes me back to centre. He stands to my right, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, his gaze sweeping the terrace, his foot bracing the chair so the thing doesn’t topple.
The high, stiff collar of my dress cuts into my neck and suddenly I’m furious. ‘Why? Why do I have to wear these ridiculous things?’ I gesture at the fitted qipao, crumpled from my rough ministrations. ‘Why can’t I wear a changpao like yours? It’ll cover my knees, and it’s wide enough that I can actually move like a normal person, not some trussed-up duck ready for roasting.’
‘Ladies do not wear changpao.’ His voice is grave, but not judgemental like Horsey’s.
