It doesn’t take long to find the first rooster. White with dark grey speckles and tail feathers bright as fresh blood, the thing is standing perilously close to the waterfall, pecking at the grassy bank. Cool mist freckles my arms, and I swallow the panic, quickly rubbing the wet from my skin and grabbing the rooster before stepping a safe distance from the creek and shoving the clueless creature under an arm.
I wander the Hall, watchful for the tell-tale yellow of Lady Soo and any sign of the other rooster, but neither are anywhere obvious. My silk slippers are wet from the dewy grass, though not muddy, which I appreciate. I circle the mahjong tables, keeping my gaze lowered and pretending I don’t hear the intakes of breath, the silence as I pass, or the furious whispering as I leave.
I follow artfully laid stones up another hill. A rocky outcrop partially obscures a huge weeping willow, but from within the curtain of willow branches comes the click of mahjong tiles. I sweep aside the branches and duck into a small open space I’d missed before. Low-hung lanterns cast the domed space in a silvery light. It’s easy enough to see out, but the way the low light falls, we’re completely hidden inside the canopy. A flash of yellow catches my eye and I freeze, bracing myself for Soo’s onslaught.
When a moment passes and nothing happens, I dare to look up. Four deities sit at a mahjong table, engrossed in their game, none of them Soo. There is something under the table though – the yellow flash I thought was Soo isn’t Soo at all. It’s the second rooster – the plumes around its neck the same vivid sunshine yellow that Soo so favours. The thing blinks, puffs out its flaming orange breast, and then lazily turns its ass to me, shaking its teal tail feathers as it pecks a peanut from a man’s open palm.
The owner of the hand glances back at me, black eyes glittering. A sweep of dark hair falls over one eye. His slightly hooked nose lends him a rakish air. The shabby brown changpao is an odd choice for a deity, but an immediate tell that he’s one of the dragon kings. They are easy enough to tell apart in their true dragon forms because of their colour:
East is azure, the coming of spring,
South is bright red, a warm summer’s kiss.
White is the west, autumn’s cool mist.
Black is true north, a wintry king.
A ditty Horsey taught me as a child – one of the few lessons where I earned a rare smile. But in the dragons’ human guises, I could never get them right. They were all fond of dressing like impoverished poets, floating around in their shabby robes with a dreamy, romantic air about them.
Before I can bow and offer the correct honorifics, he says, ‘This orphaned one basks in your glory, Grand Princess Overflowing with Sagacity.’
I swallow, surprised at his politesse. I bow my head and raise my fist palm salute high. I don’t want anyone to whisper back to Big Wang that I didn’t properly honour a minister of such high rank.
‘This insignificant one wishes you ten thousand years of good health.’ I can’t remember his name and hope he doesn’t notice. ‘Contain my interruption, but I need that rooster.’
‘Lord Black, quit dallying,’ says a deity at the table, her voice like crumbling granite, her face and robes a pale silver-white. On her delicate wrists, bright grass green jade bangles clink as she strokes her row of tiles.
I know Lady Chang-e, the Goddess of the Moon, by sight. She shifts her attention to me, taking in my wrinkled qipao and dishevelled hair. I hadn’t bothered to braid it today. The other two deities, one in silvery peach robes, the other in blush pink, are Celestial ministers. From their demeanour I’m guessing they’re not as senior in rank as Lady Chang-e. Peachy leans in and murmurs to the other, unaware that I can hear every rotted word.
‘It’s that foreign mongrel – the blood drinker.’ A sneer curves Peachy’s lips.
If Lady Chang-e or Lord Black decide to join them in the sneerfest, I’d be expected to bow my head and silently endure the insults – one of the reasons I try to avoid senior-level ministers as much as possible. But to my surprise Lady Chang-e merely nods, acknowledging my presence.
I stare, stunned by her lack of bitchiness. She raises an eyebrow at my slack-jawed silence so I hurriedly bow, lower than I would normally, and say, ‘To your venerable health, Lady Chang-e.’ Pathetic to be so grateful for what was probably to her a mere courtesy to a low-ranking deity, but it happens so rarely I can’t help myself.
She inclines her head in acceptance then turns to Peachy. ‘Lady Fen, please fetch an attendant. I find myself thirsty.’
‘If we’d sat in the open meadow, the attendants would pay us much more attention,’ Lady Fen says sourly as she stands.
Lady Chang-e sips her drink. She taps her tiles with an ornate nail that’s as long as my pinkie finger, lacquered silver and inlaid with tiny pearls. ‘If my request is such an inconvenience, please feel free to choose another table. I’m sure Prince Ji can do without our exchange this year.’
Lady Fen bows low, a scarlet flush rising up her neck. She must be a Ministry of Agriculture underling. Prince Ji is one of the heads of her ministry. I smother a smirk as she says, ‘Please contain my thoughtlessness, it’s an honour to assist Senior Minister Chang-e. Senior Minister Ji was most insistent we secure Senior Minister Chang-e’s favour. He says no one’s mooncakes can compare to those from your Ministry. Please don’t cancel our agreement.’
Lady Chang-e waves her pearlescent nails and Lady Fen scurries away to duck her head through the curtain of willow branches and wave down an attendant. She stalks back to the table, face twisted with annoyance and anxiety. Under different circumstances she’d probably spit at me, but with both Lord Black and Lady Chang-e treating me with respect, she doesn’t dare.
A squawk brings me back from my musings, reminding me I have things to do. ‘Venerable Lord Black, Dragon King of the North, may I?’ I point at the rooster.
He gestures for me to go ahead. The rooster clucks and postures; it doesn’t seem to want to leave its free meal and tries to dodge me. It takes a couple grabs to catch the thing and as I’m tussling to get it tucked under my arm, Lord Black pulls a tile from the table. The way he does it catches my attention, and I watch as he runs his thumb slowly over the carved face without turning it over, and then discards it. I glance at his hand. His tiles are a mess. No strategy, no groupings, no order, at least none that I can fathom. Curiosity presses me to ask him, but it’s not my place to question a dragon king. I stand to leave, but I can’t make my feet move. I sigh. It’s no use. I have to know.
‘You didn’t even look at it,’ I say as rooster number two squawks under my arm.
Lord Black hooks an arm over his chair. ‘The surprise is what makes life fun.’
‘Stop teasing the girl,’ Lady Chang-e says. She takes a tile from the table. With a flourish, she flips out a set of three dragons. ‘Pong.’
Lady Fen and Pinky groan. Lady Chang-e winks at me. I nearly drop the roosters in surprise.
‘He may have dragon sight,’ she says – I almost look over my shoulder to see who she’s talking to, ‘but he’s a crappy mahjong player. Cannot hold a mahjong face to save his ugly brown robes.’
