Good question.  Here I am stuck in the middle of nowhere with two corpses, two teenagers, two sick people and a man who’s more interested in his merchandise than in his family.  There’s no-one to turn to for help, no-one to take charge.  There’s only me.

“We’ve got to get rid of the bodies,” I say. 

Together, Yao Lin and I heave the bodies of the robbers across their horses’ backs.  I mount Blaze, wincing as my wound pulls.  “I won’t be long.  Help him get his stuff together.  We need to get out of here.”

A short distance away there’s an outcrop of rocks and some sparse trees.  I dump the bodies there and lead the horses back to the wagons.  The merchant’s still busy repacking his boxes.

Yao Lin looks exasperated.  “He won’t let me help.  He thinks I’m going to steal something.”

I go over to Zhong Buo.  “Sir, we need to move quickly.  Let us help.”

His reply’s curt.  “My servant will do it.  Where is he?” He calls out, “Ah-Fu, Ah-Fu, come here!”

There’s no answer.

“The coward probably ran away,” grumbles the merchant.

Yao Lin calls to me from the other side of the wagon.  I find him looking down at a man’s body.  Judging by the clothes, this is the missing servant.

I return to Zhong Buo.  “Your servant’s dead.  How come you’re out here all alone?”

“It’s all the fault of the caravan-master!”  The voice is high-pitched, full of grievance.  “That Hao Meng.  My wife fell ill and he wouldn’t wait for us.  He told me I had to wait for the next caravan but I can’t afford to wait that long.”

He straightens up and calls sharply, ““Qing!   Come here and help me with the goods.”

The girl appears and comes down the wagon steps.  She’s tall for a woman, sturdily-built, her face expressionless.  Without a word, she kneels and quietly starts to help pack up the merchandise.  It seems to consist mostly of poor quality artefacts in jade and ivory.

“If you’d allow us to bring the boxes over to the wagon, sir,” I suggest, “You could organize the stowing away.”

He glares for a minute, obviously unwilling to follow my advice, but as the girl continues to pack things away, he goes to the wagon and climbs in.  Yao Lin and I carry the first box over.  Going back to the girl, I say, “That was a brave move of yours back there.”

“Not really.  I think I just didn’t care.”  The tone of her voice is dull, tired. 

Something wrong here.  Gently, I say, “My name’s Zhao Jing.  What’s yours?”

“Lei Qing.”

“Is Sir Zhong your father?”

“Stepfather.”  She looks up for the first time.  “You saved our lives.  Please accept my grateful thanks and those of my mother.”

“I’m glad I could help.  Is your mother all right?”

She nods, her face closing up, and says nothing more.

The last box is stowed away.  Zhong Buo descends from the wagon and comes fussily towards me.

“If my servant’s dead, who’s going to drive the wagon?” he demands.

“It looks like it’ll have to be you, sir.”

Zhong Buo looks at me with contempt.  “Me?  Drive?  That’s a servant’s job.”

Lei Qing looks up and a little eagerness shows in her face.  “I can drive.  My father taught me.”

“Out of the question,” snaps Zhong Buo instantly.  “Completely inappropriate.”

“It’s one or the other, sir,” I say.

He glares at me, flips his sleeves and walks away, huffing.

“Can you handle four horses, Young Miss Lei?”

“I think so.  Yes.”

“Then let’s get out of here. ”

 “What about Ah-Fu?” Lei Qing says, “We can’t just leave him here.”

“We’ll take the body with us and bury him when we camp tonight”

We now have the robbers’ two horses as well as my two and the eight pulling the wagons.  I suggest that Zhong Buo should ride.  He says he’ll take Blaze.  I tell him that Blaze is my horse.  Petulantly, he takes one of the others, grimacing with distaste.  The rest are tethered to the back of the wagons, Ah-Fu’s body tied onto one of them.  I mount up.  Lei Qing and Yao Lin climb onto their respective driving-seats and gather up the reins.  At last, we move off. 

There are still a few hours of daylight left and we cover a number of miles before making camp.  We find a relatively sheltered place just off the road, near a small stream.  A ring of blackened stones and a pile of refuse testify to the fact that others have camped here before us. 

There are now twelve horses to unharness, water, tether and rub down, which takes some time.  While Yao Lin and I are busy, Zhong Buo approaches us.  “What about food?” he demands.

“What supplies do you have?” 

“How should I know?  Ah-Fu handled all that.”

“Well, could you get a fire going?”

“Certainly not.  I’m not a servant.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to wait till we’ve finished here.”

“Are you saying the horses are more important than we are?”

I bite back the reply I want to make.  Zhong Buo flips his sleeves in his habitual gesture and stalks off back to the wagon.  Lei Qing comes down the steps and casts him a look of contempt.  “I’ll get a fire going,” she says.

By the time we’ve finished dealing with the horses, she has a large bundle of firewood collected and a fire’s burning merrily.  It turns out the Zhong family is well-supplied with the basic necessities and it’s not long before Lei Qing has a large pot of meat and vegetables cooking. 

Before the meal, in the last hour of daylight, Yao Lin and I bury the body of the servant.  Digging graves is no fun.  We carry Ah-Fu’s body, wrapped in a quilt, and place it carefully in the new grave.  It looks small and forlorn.  We shovel the earth back in and search for rocks to pile on the grave to discourage scavengers. 

Yao Lin and I are dirty and sweaty after the burial, so we shuck off our clothes and wash in the cold stream.  It’s dark by the time we return to the fire.  Zhong Buo and his stepdaughter are sitting in hostile silence.  Zhong Buo has helped himself to himself a bowl of food.  Lei Qing has waited for us.  No-one speaks as we eat.

Later, as I’m settling Yao Yuhan down for the night, Yao Lin bursts out, “That man’s a total asshole.  I can’t think why Ah-Qing’s Mum married him.”

“Ah-Lin, a gentleman doesn’t criticize another gentleman, not in those terms and however much he deserves it,” his father reproves gently.

Yao Lin flushes and retreats behind the screen.  I continue to massage Yao Yuhan’s legs.  “Your families know each other?” I ask.

“My wife and Madam Lei, as she was, were childhood friends, so naturally as young married people, we saw a lot of one another.  Ah-Qing’s father became a close friend too.”

“What happened to him?”

“He fell ill around the time I had my accident and died while I was still unconscious.  It was several months before I could communicate with anyone and by that time, Ah-Qing’s mother had remarried.  Why she chose Zhong Buo is a mystery to me.  Ah-Qing and Ah-Lin played together as children but after the marriage, Zhong Buo cut off all communication between our families.  I think the young people found a way to get messages to one another, but I’ve been careful not to ask.”

“As a gentleman, and without wishing to speak ill of him, I have to say that he’s a difficult man.”  I pour more massage oil into my hands and start on the other leg.

Yao Yuhan chuckles.  “That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.  Let me offer some advice.  Zhong Buo’s a man motivated entirely by money.  His cooperation can be secured by hinting that any delay will result in extra cost.”

I chuckle too.  “Thanks for the tip.”

That evening, I fall asleep calculating how to keep us all safe till we reach the caravan.  As sometimes happens, I wake up in the morning to find that a plan has formed in my mind.  Over breakfast, I share it with the others.

“We have to give the impression that we’re capable of defending ourselves.  So the first thing is that both Sir Zhong and I should continue to ride as escorts.  Secondly, we should hide the fact that we have women with us, so I respectfully suggest that Young Miss Lei dresses in men’s clothes.  It’ll be more convenient for driving the wagon anyway.”

Zhong Buo reacts automatically.  “Unthinkable!” he says sharply.

“Sir Zhong,” I say patiently, “The sight of a woman may invite attack where the sight of a man wouldn’t.  If we’re attacked, someone might get hurt and there’ll be more delay and expense.”

“I’ve got riding clothes,” Qing says eagerly, ignoring her stepfather.  “My father didn’t mind me wearing them.”

“Good.  And thirdly we should all be armed.  Sir Zhong, you have a sword?  Please wear it.  And Young Miss Lei and Yao Lin can have the robbers’ swords.”

Zhong Buo’s voice is cutting.  “I don’t know who you think you are, young man, but what gives you the right to order us about?”

“Sir Zhong, if you have any other suggestions, I’ll be glad to listen to them.”

This is straight out of Shan’s book of tactics and it’s a killer.  Zhong Buo gets up angrily and walks off.

Yao Lin grins.  “That stumped him.”

Lei Qing disappears into the Zhong wagon and reappears ten minutes later dressed as a boy, her hair tied up in a neat bun on top of her head.  She doesn’t look in the least bit incongruous.  She looks like a plain sturdy lad.

“Excellent.”  I hand her a sword in a leather sheath.  “Sling it crosswise behind you.  It’ll be visible but it won’t get in your way.  How’s your mother today?  I hope her illness is improving.”

“It’s not an illness.  She had a miscarriage.  She lost a lot of blood.”

“Ah,” I say, “I’ve got some herbs that are good for replenishing blood.  And she should eat strength-building food.  Chicken broth is good.”

She stares at me.  “You’re not much older than I am.  How do you know all this?”

“I was in the army.  I studied medicine under the troop doctor.”

“Ah-Lin says you were wounded not long ago.”

“Yes, but it’s mending.  Come on, let’s get the horses harnessed.”

I soon learn that travelling with Zhong Buo means putting up with an endless stream of aggravation.  His petulant voice never stops.  The weather, his rheumatism, the lumps in the porridge, the lack of comfort in the wagon, the unsuitability of Lei Qing’s clothes, the mediocrity of the horse he’s being required to ride:  all are subjects for lengthy complaints.  Worse, he challenges everything I say.  By the end of the day, I’m barely hanging on to my temper.

We make camp near a roadside well, where a few other travelers are already installed.  We’re establishing a routine now.  Yao Lin and I see to the horses while Lei Qing makes the fire and gets the meal going.  Zhong Buo sits by the fire and criticizes, while not lifting a finger to help. 

After supper, Zhong Buo wanders away from our camp-fire and strikes up an acquaintance with a couple of travelers nearby.  They’re sharing jugs of alcohol and he’s soon invited to drink.  The conversation starts out amicably, but after a while the voices get louder and more quarrelsome.  Finally Zhong Buo gets up and flounces back to our fire, flipping his sleeves in indignation.

“Ignorant peasants!” he says angrily.  “I’m going to bed.”  He’s more than a little drunk.  “Qing, get in the wagon,” he orders. 

She opens her mouth to protest, but argument’s the last thing we need, so I say, “We should all get some sleep,” and she looks at me and obeys without a word.  Zhong Buo stumbles going up the wagon steps and nearly falls flat on his face.  A loud jeer comes from the neighbouring camp-fire.

This guy really knows how to make himself popular.

This guy’s a liability.