‘Why not? If the whole point is to protect our modesty, why in Hells is a qipao fitted like a sausage skin? I might as well be naked!’
Bullhead makes a choking sound. ‘I hope your streaking days are well and truly behind you, Lady Jing. It is not befitting for Big Wang’s guards to be chasing you all over Shanghai just to make you put on clothes.’
‘Pish. I don’t know why you all have this hang-up. Everyone is naked under their clothes.’ I cross my arms and look across the skyline of Shanghai. The twinkling lights are a poor substitute for stars. ‘The entire Hulijing Court wishes me dead. I’m nothing but a useless unwanted mongrel—’
‘Do not refer to yourself in such terms. You are Grand Princess Overflowing with Sagacity, Noble Lady Hu Xian Jing of the Turquoise Hills, Lady Jing of Mount Kunlun, whether others like it or not. Whetheryoulike it or not.’
‘I never asked for that rotted title.’ I kick the table in frustration.
‘It is your birth right and your duty.’ Bullhead’s tone is calm.
I’ve heard all this before. Big Wang wants me to claim my position at court so I can use my standing at the Ministerial Mahjong Council to vote on matters in his favour. And in the process expose myself to more ridicule and snide remarks from the likes of Lady Soo and the other rotted hulijing handmaids. I may be immature, irresponsible, impertinent, and improper. But I am not stupid.
‘I don’t give two turd eggs about how many days of rain the Ministry of Thunder and Storm allocates each territory of the Middle Kingdom. Or how many catties of fish the dragon kings permit to be caught from their seas every month. I hate fish and I hate rain. I’m not minister material.’ I slump in my chair, and my voice deflates. ‘They’ll all laugh at me.’ The words are barely a whisper.
Bullhead is silent; there’s something knowing in his expression that makes me fidget in my seat. Water laps gently against the edges of the pond as the tortoises slowly go about their business. The green glow limning him is abating; the blood rush fading. Replacing the fug is a heat crawling up the back of my neck, clawing across my cheeks. The blood rush is freeing but that freedom is dangerous. It makes me forget myself. Who I am, where I am, and most importantly, my position in Hell. A glorified indentured servant. Big Wang knows me well; I need blood to live, but am too squeamish to feed myself. So he pays and feeds me in blood. I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.
Bullhead puts a hand on my shoulder, pats once, then offers me a rare smile, showing the gap between his front teeth. ‘Still thirsty?’
I nod.
‘I’ll bring you another glass of the three-day-old,ifyou promise to pull yourself together. No frowning. You’re beginning to resemble Lord Ma. Deal?’
A small smile twitches my cheeks. ‘Deal.’
Bullhead inclines his head, and motions for the hovering apprentice to bring another glass of my favourite tipple.
‘I want it in a cocktail glass with a straw and a pink umbrella!’ I shout after her retreating back. She pauses, glances back at Bullhead who gives a subtle nod. I hiss. What kind of lady am I that even a servant won’t fulfil my simplest requests? The fake talisman rattles at my conscience but I shove it away. Why should I care if Big Wang was bamboozled?
I could simply not mention it at all. The mortal is with Big Wang now. He’s safe and no longer my concern. The apprentice returns with my blood in a cocktail glass, complete with miniature paper umbrella and red-and-white barber pole straw and sets it on the marble table. The first hit is always the most intense, especially on an empty stomach. I’m more in control now. I grin at the drink, the talisman problem shoved to the back of my mind as I savour the sweet, cloying scent.
The apprentice stumbles back, before catching herself. She won’t look at me, but I can smell her disgust. I wait until she straightens before pulling my lips back and showing her my fangs.
‘This humble one thanks you for your kindness,’ I say, my voice sweet as lychee syrup. I lean forward and snarl. The apprentice trips over herself in her haste to be away from me.
Bullhead radiates disapproval. ‘That was unkind, Lady Jing.’
I suck my teeth. ‘She started it.’
Bullhead says nothing, but the weight of his frown settles across my shoulders. It’s too damned hot for this. Exasperated, I twitch my shoulders like I can throw off his disapproval, throw off the hurt. ‘They’re atoning ghosts. They have no right to judge me.’
‘They don’t know any better, and intentionally frightening them only makes the misunderstanding worse.’ Bullhead sighs. ‘Drink,’ he says, gently pushing the cocktail glass towards me.
The second hit is like a long massage, unknotting all the tension inside me. I relax into the blood rush, shudder as the blood flows through me, igniting my senses, but this time everything is accompanied by a sense of calm. I wish it could last forever. Sadly, that never happens. Too soon, it’s over. I suck up every last drop, slurping loudly until Bullhead takes hold of the straw and glass. There’s a little tug of war until he flicks my ear with his free hand.
‘Ow! That’s no way to treat a lady,’ I say, still clutching the straw.
‘I thought you said you weren’t a lady.’
I let go with a grunt. The apprentice whisks away the empty glass and straw. The pink umbrella I hide in my hand. They are a rare treat. Horsey never lets me have them, saying I’m wasting hotel resources.
‘Have you been doing your transformation meditations?’ he asks.
I stiffen. Big Wang has been waiting to see how many tails my fox form will have. The more tails, the higher I am in the fox-spirit court hierarchy and the more influential my vote as a minister. My grandmother is a silver nine-tailed fox. My mother was the same – silver and nine tails. They say nine tails is a sign of the great goddess Queen Mother of the West’s favour because a nine-tailed fox doesn’t need mortal yang for sustenance – she can simply absorb yang qi from the air around her. A golden fox would be even more powerful – no need for yang qi at all. But none exist; my grandmother is the most powerful, and most ancient, of them all.
Lady Soo has three tails, enough to warrant a higher position as a handmaid, but not enough to threaten Niang Niang’s power. She still needs mortal yang qi from time to time. The rest of those bitches are run-of-the mill one-tailed fox-spirits. I pity the mortal fool who stumbles into their lair. Me... I can’t even turn into a fox, much less manifest my tails, which is no great hardship. I have no intention of taking up a position at that rotted court.
‘I see,’ he says. ‘Perhaps after your centenary, you’ll manage it. Have you been practicing your Celestial voice?’
