‘Aiya, stop moving,’ I whisper to my cards. ‘We’re gonna whip that Lady Gi’s pigu and sweep up every last trinket on the table.’ I giggle to myself, and discard a card.
Gigi’s face is pink as a peony. ‘I can hear you, you drunkard.’ She sways and draws a card. The edges of her dainty lips tense.
I tsk loudly. ‘You need to work on your mahjong face. You didn’t get the card you wanted, did you?’
‘Pish. You think you know everything.’ She lays down a meld of three cards.
‘You think you’re so smart.’
‘Not think, know.’
I gesture for Gigi to fill my cup. At some point we’re treated to an impromptu duet – Ah Lang strumming his pipa to Lord Aengus crooning corny love ballads. Lord Aengus’s singing voice is surprisingly pleasant – it’s hoarse and throaty, like he’s gargling gravel. I thoughtI-wanna-be-mortalTony had slunk off to his room but for some reason he’s sitting in the corner with that kissable face of his pretending to be deeply engrossed in paperwork.Bah.
Gigi hiccups, attempts to fill my glass and then her own, spilling most of it on the table.
‘Focus, Gigi. No wasting good jiu.’
She leans forward, and licks the table. ‘No waste, see?’ She looks at me, then breaks out in peals of laughter. ‘Your face, Jing!’ she wheezes, unable to continue because she’s laughing so hard.
‘May sherrr,’ I slur. I snatch a card from the pile, and lay down two melds.
She sobers at my play, her giggles finally subsiding, but the grin remains.
‘Quit messing around and play your hand, Gigi,’ I say.
Gigi discards, and I snap up her card. I toss my discard and reveal my hand. ‘Suck eggs, you loser! Admit I’m the Goddess of kanhoo!’ I crow as I do a little victory shimmy.
Gigi rolls her eyes. ‘I declare Lady Hu Xian Jing the Goddess of kanhoo. Are you happy now, Jing? You are such a baby.’
I sweep my winnings off the table into my sleeve. Gigi bet one of her hairpins I’ve been eyeing for ages. And gold ingots! I’m going to – I freeze. Sniff the air. There’s a scent that shouldn’t be here.
‘Do you smell that?’
Gigi lifts her nose. ‘What?’
I stand, tracking the scent. It’s strange – dry, sickly. Like desiccated roses and camphor. And then I hear an unfamiliar voice, quiet as a breeze. ‘Ah-teng.’
It’s coming from the corner of the ceiling. As I stare, there’s a shift in the air, like the shimmering of a heatwave.
‘Someone’s here,’ I say at the same time as a deafening explosion rocks the carriage.
One moment I’m standing, Gigi’s hand on my arm, the next, I’m weightless. There’s a ringing in my ears, but otherwise all is silent.
Chairs and bottles and kanhoo cards hang mid-air, Gigi too, her bright yellow dress fanned out around her like rays of sunshine. The surreal tableau would have had a peaceful quality if not for Gigi’s expression – eyes wide with fear and alarm.
In a blink, gravity remembers us. The floor rushes upwards, slams into my side. Bottles and glasses explode around us, making the air sparkle as if sprinkled with diamond dust. A huge vase slams into my cheek. I see stars and then nothing.
Eleven
House Durand
‘Lady Jing!Lady Jing!’
Someone calling my name cuts through the fog. With great effort, I open my eyes and find myself face to face with a panicking Lord Aengus.
The muffled silence detonates into a riot of noise: Ah Lang shouting for Gigi, Tony screaming for me, the unearthly screech of metal grinding against metal.
‘Lady Jing!’ Lord Aengus says again, urgency in every syllable. ‘You must gather the others. Hurry.’
