‘Yes.’ My voice cracks with frustration. Something I want to manifest, but can’t.
‘I’m sure that will come in due course,’ Bullhead says, correctly interpreting my tone.
I shake off the pity in his voice. ‘Can I go now?’
‘Not yet. We’ve had a complaint about a couple stray roosters which found their way into the Mahjong Council. The apprentices have their hands full dealing with the ministers. Can you round them up on your way out?’
The idea of having to subject myself to the whispers and gossip turns my stomach. ‘Get one of those idiots to catch the roosters. I just carried a grown mortal through the streets of yin Shanghai. He nearly got eaten by a couple of drunk jiangshi over on Broadway. I’m done for the day.’
Bullhead stills. ‘Jiangshi attacked you?’
‘Yeah. I would have made it fine if not for one of those damned roosters tripping me up. We need to do something about them.’
Bullhead crosses his arms and gives me a look that makes me replay my words.Shit sticks.
‘Right, I meant to tell you’ – he raises his eyebrows at my omission. I ignore him – ‘the mortal’s Lei talisman is fake.’
‘A fake?’ Bullhead’s thick eyebrows pull down low and the walnut brown skin between them creases to a deep valley. ‘But then—’ His gaze darts to Big Wang’s quarters. ‘If the jiangshi had caught you—’
‘Good thing I’m not shy about letting my butt hang out for all of Shanghai to see.’
‘That’s why you came up the side of the building. It did seem a rather extreme way to get here.’ He begins to pace. ‘I arranged the paperwork myself. The Ministry of Thunder and Storm approved it. I even spoke to Lord Lei to ensure the matter would be handled smoothly.’
‘Well, someone along the line screwed up.’
Bullhead’s gaze fixes over my head, his attention far away. ‘That doesn’t make sense,’ he murmurs.
I twirl the paper umbrella in my hand, waiting to be dismissed. Bullhead remembers me, looks up.
‘Deal with the roosters. I’ll let Big Wang know about the talisman. And Lady Jing’ – his expression is stern – ‘stay away from Lady Soo. She’s trouble.’
I give him an insolent look, then hork a gooey gob of spit over the terrace balustrade.
Five
Lord Black
The lift doors slide open to clattering mahjong tiles that chitter like angry swallows against the distant rumbling of a waterfall. The whole place reeks of yaojing. Not only is there the usual ginger, flint, and the faint fishy whiff of hulijing, but also at least a dozen different fragrances – orchids, lilies, jasmine, sandalwood, cedar, pine to name the most pungent – mixed in with the acrid bite of cigar and cigarette smoke. My poor nose.
Separating the lift lobby from the Mahjong Hall of Harmony is a huge spirit screen framing an embroidered silk Mount Kunlun. The flickering lanterns make the cerulean waterfalls shimmer, while finely stitched deer, complete with white spots on their coats, frolic beneath majestic pines. My shoulders twitch – it’s been a long time since I was last at a Mahjong Council. Ever since that incident with Lady Soo I’ve been excused from showing my face here. I’m tempted to dawdle, hide behind the spirit screen where no one can see me, but... I shake myself. I will not be made a coward.
Inhaling, I let my chest expand, then exhale even slower. I do it twice more. In. Out. The sooner I find the damned roosters, the sooner I can go home.
I step around the screen into the majesty of the Hall of Harmony. Hall is a misleading name for the lush meadow spread out before me, created by the combined effort of every ministry of Tian. The Ministry of Thunder and Storm contributed curling wisps of cloud that hug the walls and a gentle breeze that cools in the summer and warms in the winter to make it seem like we really are in Mount Kunlun, frolicking in the Queen Mother of the West’s immortality peach grove. The Ministry of Agriculture arranged for grassy hills dotted with trees in perpetual blossom. I’m told they managed to negotiate with Queen Mother of the West herself to embed parts of the base of Mount Kunlun into the Hall walls for that ‘authentic feel’. I don’t know the exact terms of the deal, but I’ve since heard the Queen Mother’s prized grove, which always needed 6000 years to fruit, now fruits in half that time. All that effort for a three-day Ministerial Mahjong Council that takes place once a year.
Servants scurry up and down the stone paths set into the mossy meadows, delivering drinks and snacks to yaojing sat in groups of four at burnished wooden tables placed beneath blossoming trees. The leafy canopies are dotted with multicoloured lanterns and give each table a sense of privacy. There’s even a golden glow in the sky, as if dawn were just around the corner. I know it’s only an illusion, a cleverly painted corner of the ceiling paired with strategically placed electric lights, but it’s still one of my favourite things about this place.
At my feet gurgles a small brook – it rings the whole hall and feeds a waterfall at the other end of the space. It’s diverted from the mythical Ruoshui River, the protective barrier to Mount Kunlun. Only immortals may cross the river, preventing unwanted access. Lord Fu, Lord Lu and Lord Shou, the most superstitious of the lot, collectively insisted on installing the river in the Hall to ward away evil and corruption – even though it’s all rather pointless since there’s also a little bridge to allow servants access and a walkway in the back corner that leads to a series of meeting chambers.
I cross the tiny brook in two strides. I keep my head down, hoping to avoid meeting any hulijing, and slip into the crowd of servants balancing trays laden with fancy cocktails, bottles of Maotai, and little dishes filled with all manner of mahjong snacks, from braised peanuts and chargrilled cuttlefish, to peeled lychees and dried persimmon, and dainty eggshell porcelain cups of peach blossom tears soup made with resin from the Queen Mother’s immortality peach trees. I wrinkle my nose at the last, a breakfast staple among the hulijing for its bosom- and bottom-plumping properties. I shudder and keep moving, searching for those rotted roosters.
Two deities lounge on a pile of silk embroidered pillows beneath yet another blossoming tree – mulberry maybe – drinking Maotai from glass cups that look like shells of amber. They are lesser ministers, in blue and green silks, their hair piled in high ornate loops atop their heads. The fine gold chains dangling from their hair pins dance on the breeze as they laugh and gossip. When one of the deities notices me, recognition widens her eyes. Shock and then something akin to excitement crosses her pointed face. She leans in and whispers to the other deity, who stiffens, then slowly turns her head my way, eyes sparkling with glee and contempt. I pretend not to notice, not to feel their gazes boring into my back, not to hear their whispersor the barbed words that litter my shadow as I pass.Mongrel. Abomination.Cast-off.Arsonist.
My skin prickles at the too familiar insults and I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the old memory of sharp nails digging into tender skin. I glance back. Their silken water sleeves ripple as they gesture for their friends to join them, then point at me. Gazes follow their fingers and catch mine for a beat too long, mingled delight and disgust in their gestures, in their laughter. I tear away, forcing myself to move, even though the laughter brings me back to Soo, how she loved to humiliate me. Anger rekindles inside me, and my chest goes tight. Why should I always have to endure their insults?
It isn’t fair. Bullhead was right. Lady Sooistrouble. She’s here in the Hall somewhere; damned if I’ll let her bait me again.
With renewed focus, I move faster, hurrying around the servants towards the outer perimeter of the Hall. I skirt the edges of the space, careful not to slip into the creek, and head towards the waterfall. Murmuring follows in my wake as word of my presence spreads.
