Two uneventful days follow.  However, a significant change takes place, because Madam Zhong now joins us round the camp-fire in the evenings and takes over the cooking, which not only improves the quality of the food, but also frees Lei Qing to help Ah-Lin and me with the horses.  Zhong Buo is much less vocal, though his expression when he looks at me is full of bitter resentment and dislike.  Mercifully, the presence of the soldiers acts as a restraint on his behaviour, in public at least.  But the Gods only know what goes on in the wagon between him and the two women.

My injuries are healing fast, perhaps because of the mineral waters, or because I’m young and recover quickly.  The wound on my hip’s now a smooth pink scar; the bruises on my abdomen still look spectacular but no longer hurt.   Yao Yuhan’s feeling better too, though I suspect that it’s only a temporary respite.  The weather’s much warmer, so in the evening, we help him out onto the wagon steps so he can eat with us and enjoy the last of the sunshine and the conversation.  He and Madam Zhong exchange many smiles and nods, though etiquette demands that their conversation be limited to banal everyday things.  But they were close friends before.  I ponder on a social system that prevents friends from speaking because they’re of different sexes.

At the end of the second day, we camp near an outcrop of rocks which offer shelter from a sharp little wind that has got up.  I sleep badly, visited by confused dreams.  In the morning I feel heavy-eyed as I help Yao Lin harness up the horses.    

We’re ready to go.  The camp-fire’s out.  Lei Qing and Yao Lin are on the driving seats, the reins in their hands.  The yawning soldiers have mounted up.  We’re waiting for Zhong Buo, who has disappeared behind the rocks at the last minute for a natural purpose.  He seems to be taking a long time.

I’m about to go and look for him when there’s a shrill cry of panic, followed by another.  Zhong Buo staggers out from behind the rocks and collapses.  He’s writhing on the ground clutching his leg and screaming.  I run towards him, Lei Qing and Yao Lin jump down from the wagons and run too.  We kneel beside him, but he’s kicking and beating us off in a frenzy of terror.

“Snake!”  he cries, and again, “Snake!”

“What kind of snake? Did you see it?”  I demand urgently, but he’s beyond answering.

There’s no time to lose with snakebites.  Avoiding the flailing hands, I rip the trouser leg open and find two puncture wounds on his calf.  Blood’s streaming from them and the leg’s already starting to swell.  It looks like a viper bite.  This is bad.

The two soldiers stand looking helpless.  Zhong Buo clutches at me and gasps, “Help me!  Help me!” before the agonized wails start again.  But viper venom’s deadly and quick-acting, there’s absolutely nothing I or anyone can do.  Zhong Buo writhes and his head flails from side to side.  I hold him firmly, talking quietly to try and calm him, as I’ve seen Liang Zhou talk to injured soldiers.  There’s a rustle of skirts and Madam Zhong drops down beside us, her face white as paper.  She takes his hands in hers, as his struggles grow weaker and his voice starts to give out.  Then his whole body’s seized by convulsions.  His face takes on a blue tinge and after one final terrible seizure, it’s over. 

The speed of this dreadful death is utterly shocking.  I lay down the lifeless body.  Madam Zhong releases the limp hands.  Lei Qing’s face seems to be carved out of stone.  Her mother moves to her side and puts her arm round her daughter’s waist, pale, but composed.  They walk slowly back to the wagon, supporting one another.

One of the soldiers coughs, scratching his unshaven chin.  “Gone, has he?” he says.

I nod.

“Nothing to be done,” says the other soldier.  “Not with a viper bite.  They call it the fifty-step snake because that’s how far you get before you die.”

“Better bury him,” says the first soldier.  “We’ll take care of it, Young Master.”

They borrow our shovels and get down to it.  I’m deeply grateful that I don’t have to do it.  Rain has softened the ground enough to make digging easy.  I think about how many unnamed graves there must be along this cruel road.  When the time comes, the women emerge from the wagon with an embroidered silk coverlet, in which they wrap Zhong Buo.  They watch as the soldiers lower the body into its resting place and start to fill in the grave.  We all salute three times in respect.  Then the women return to the wagons, while the soldiers cover the grave with rocks.

Nobody has said anything.  What is there to say?

One thing the army has taught me is that in times of crisis, routine’s a lifeline.  So it proves again.  Whatever happens, we have to take care of the horses, light fires, cook, eat and sleep. 

Next day, Madam Zhong appears on the driving seat of the wagon next to Lei Qing.  That evening when I go to care for Yao Yuhan, I find her sitting with him.  She’s holding one of his hands and there are tears on her face, which she wipes away, smiling, when I appear.

“Ah, am I interrupting your conversation?  Shall I come back later?”

“No, please,” says Madam Zhong, rising. 

I notice that Yao Yuhan’s face lacks its usual serenity.  In fact, he looks more emotional than I’ve ever seen him.  Madam Zhong says, “I’ll take my leave, but if I may, I’ll come back and see you tomorrow, Ah-Han.”

“I’ll be here,” he says, smiling too.

She moves gracefully to the door of the wagon and leaves.  The smile lingers on Yao Yuhan’s face as I pour out the scented oil and get to work on his legs. 

When I’ve settled him down, I go out to find Madam Zhong waiting for me.  I know what she’s going to ask.  Her voice is soft.  “There’s no hope, is there?”

“No, I’m afraid not.  He wants to stay alive as far as the capital, so he can hand Ah-Lin over to his brother.  So that’s what we’re trying to do.  There’s been some improvement with the treatment and he’s in much better spirits.  I think your company will help him too.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” she says.

I watch her go up the steps of her own wagon, my heart sore for her and for Yao Yuhan. 

Lei Qing’s sitting by the camp-fire staring into the flames, a cup in her hands.  I drop down beside her and reach for the kettle of tea.  Her voice sounds far away.  “I wanted to kill him,” she says.  She looks at me unhappily.  “I hated him.  We were completely in his power.”

“I know how that feels.  But it’s over now.  He’s dead.”

“I still can’t believe it.  It happened so quickly.”

“It’s a shock.  We all need time to adjust.”  I pour more tea into her cup.  “How did your mother come to marry Zhong Buo in the first place?”

She stares down at the fire.  “Father’s death really knocked her out.  They’d been married for twenty years and they adored each other.  The business went downhill.  The Zhongs were our rivals and they were undermining us secretly.  We went bankrupt.  We had to sell everything just to pay off our debts:  the house, horses, jewelry, everything.  Mother has property in the capital, but we didn’t have any way of getting there.”

“So the Zhongs made you an offer you couldn’t refuse?” I say, a little grimly.

She nods.  “It was supposed to be a purely business deal.  If Mother married Zhong Buo, the Zhongs would invest in the company and keep it afloat.  And of course, we’d have a roof over our heads.  The alternative was destitution.  So she agreed.  Only Zhong Buo’s no businessman and he likes – liked – the high life.  He lost all the money his family put in.  So then they offered to finance the trip to the capital in exchange for mother’s property there.  They arranged for me to marry a Zhong nephew so the property will pass into their hands.  And in the meanwhile, he forced himself on Mother and got her pregnant.”

I take her hand.  “It’s all over now.  You‘re both free.  You’re on your way to the capital.  You can reclaim your mother’s property and live exactly the way you want.  Think of it this way:  you’ve had so much bad luck but now your luck’s changed.  Make the most of it.”

“I think you brought us good luck,” she says.  “Everything changed when you appeared.”

“I think so too,” says Yao Lin, coming in on the end of the conversation and plopping down beside us.  “You’ve really been good for Dad and me as well.”

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” I say, ruffling his hair.  He grins.

Later, after Lei Qing’s gone to bed, Yao Lin says thoughtfully, “Isn’t it awful when so many people are glad you’re dead?”

The following day, we catch up with the caravan.

The town’s called White Plains and as usual, outside the walls there’s a wide flat area where wagons can camp.  As we approach, a voice calls, “Ah-Chan, Ah-Qing!” and a woman appears and hurries towards us.  She’s a buxom, highly-coloured person, somewhat younger than Madam Zhong.  Lei Qing halts the wagon and the new arrival reaches up and takes Madam Zhong’s hands.

“Ah-Chan, are you well?  I was so worried.”

More people are coming over, men and women.  The news of Zhong Buo’s death starts to spread, with many exclamations and professions of sympathy.  I dismount, single out one of the men, salute politely and ask where the caravan-master is.

“The Master’s gone into town.”  He’s a pleasant-looking person, wearing clothes of extremely good quality. 

“Where can I find him?”

The woman who first approached us turns and snorts.  “In the nearest tavern, I expect.  But if you catch him before midday he mightn’t be too drunk to talk to you.”

“Now, now, wife,” the merchant says, a little helplessly.

“Am I wrong?” she demands.  She turns back to Madam Zhong.  “Pull in next to us, Ah-Chan and we can have a good chat.”

Lei Qing manoeuvres the wagon expertly alongside the other, which is considerably larger and richer.  Yao Lin finds a space nearby and puts the brake on with an air of relief.  As Madam Zhong is carried off by her friend, the merchant coughs politely and addresses me, bowing.  “I’m Zhu Min.  Ah, a bad business about Zhong Buo.  I gather you helped the ladies out?”

I introduce myself and give a brief account of what happened.  Zhu Min clicks his tongue and shakes his head.  “Foolish, foolish of him to set out alone.  Snakebite, you say?  A terrible end, poor man.  And you helped the Yao family as well?  It’s fortunate you were there.”  He catches sight of Lei Qing and his jaw drops.  “Bless my soul!  Lei Qing, I thought you were a boy.”

“Sir Zhu,” says Lei Qing, bowing.  “I hope you’re well.  Where can we picket the horses?”

“Ah, best to keep them near the wagons.  There’s water nearby.”

“Sir Zhu,” I say, “I need to find the wagon-master to let him know what’s happened.  I heard your wife say he was in town?”

He coughs.  “Yes, ah, indeed.”

“In a tavern?” 

“Ah, probably, yes.  Ask for Hao Meng.  You can’t mistake him. He only has one eye.  And he wears a pony-skin waistcoat.  Brown and white.”

My first job is to thank the two guards sent by Xian Long.  I give them enough silver to buy themselves a meal and a drink and we part on excellent terms.  Then I walk into town, followed by the grey dog, and stop at the nearest shop to ask where I can find Hao Meng.  The shopkeeper’s talkative.

“Go down the main street into the market square and there’s a tavern on the corner.  You can’t miss it.  He’ll be there drinking.  But watch out, he’s in a bad temper.  Step on his toe and he’ll bite your head off.”

In case I haven’t understood, he repeats the instructions a second time.  I thank him and walk on.  The market square’s large, with several taverns, but there’s no problem finding Hao Meng.  I hear an angry roar and see two men scuttle away from one of the taverns under a hail of wine-cups.  I walk over.

Hao Meng’s standing at a table with several jugs of wine on it, some of them overturned.  He’s a big man, no longer in first youth, well-muscled, with wild grey hair and one eye sealed shut by an old scar. The pony-skin waistcoat covers a leathery bare chest.  As I approach, he sits back down, growling.  His good eye fastens on me. 

I salute politely.  “Zhao Jing greets Hao Meng.  I’ve brought the Yao family and the Zhong family back to the caravan.”

“Well, that’s good news,” he says with heavy irony, “You mean that fucking nuisance Zhong Buo’s back with us?”

“Ah, no,” I say, “He’s dead.”

The eye narrows.  “How?  When?”

“Snakebite.  Two days ago.”

“Did the snake survive?”

“It got clean away,” I say solemnly.

There’s a silence.  He’s looking me up and down speculatively.

“I was wondering if there’s any chance of getting a job with your caravan,” I say, “I’m heading for the capital too but I’d rather not be travelling alone.”

“What can you do?”

“I was with the army for a year, in Qiu City.  I was a sub-officer, medical assistant to the troop doctor, so I know a bit about medicine.  But I’m trained to fight too.  I’m good with a bow and arrow.” 

“You were involved in the action at Qiu City?”

“Yes sir.”

“Sit down.  Tell me about yourself.”

He bawls for more wine and a flustered waiter rushes out and dumps another couple of jugs on the table, along with two cups, before pattering out to collect the cups that are lying in the dust.  Hao Meng pours.  We touch cups and drink.

Once more, I produce the skilfully-edited version of my life so far.  Hao Meng listens, nodding.  When I finish, he says, “Well, I could use another man.  Those skinflint merchants have given me a budget for six men, but I’ve only got five and three of them are useless.  Before you jump at the opportunity, I should tell you that I’ve got a lousy temper, I get drunk from time to time and I can’t pay much.  Still interested?”

“Yes sir.”

“Call me Boss.  That’s a deal, then.  To explain the set-up, my job’s to ride ahead of the wagons, scout out the way, arrange camping places and make sure there are no problems on the road.  There are two guys who do most of the work escorting and guarding the caravan, brothers, name of Fu.  Then there are three guys who are just backsides in saddles.   There are a dozen wagons, all merchants and their families, all from the same town.  In case you didn’t know, usually one merchant takes the lead, collects the deposit money and is the head of the group.  Here it’s a guy called Zhu Min.”

“I met him.”

“Nice man but no leader.  They’re a quarrelsome bunch, so keeping them together is like herding goats.  They don’t obey orders because they’re too used to giving them.  The women keep getting sick and that Madam Zhu’s always shouting the odds and giving me a hard time.  Then there’s a bunch of young lads – they’re bored so they spend their time pissing everybody else off.  So now you know.”

The wine on my empty stomach causes my insides to emit an embarrassing growl.  Hao Meng’s eye narrows.

“You’re hungry,” he says.  “We’ll get some food and then you can tell me how things went down at Qiu City.”

It’s mid-afternoon by the time we get back to the encampment.  Hao Meng has consumed vast amounts of alcohol and food but seems unaffected by any of it.  He has accompanied me to the local magistrate to report the death of Zhong Buo and to get a piece of official paper confirming it, something I hadn’t thought about.  Back in camp, he introduces me to the Fu brothers, who are in fact twins.  They’re not chatty people.  They acknowledge my greeting with the minimum of words and return to what they’re doing.  The three backsides in saddles are more expansive.  They too have been taking advantage of what the town offers in the way of entertainment.  The camp’s like a small village, with women strolling about gossiping and children charging about hitting each other with sticks.  I finally make my way back to the Yao wagon and sit on the steps with a sigh of relief.  It’s been a while since I had this much to drink and my head’s aching.  Yao Lin appears from inside the wagon.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Drinking with the Boss.  I’ve been hired.”

“Congratulations,” he says, sitting down beside me.  “But you’ll probably regret it.  It’s a madhouse.  You’ll see.”

I can’t suppress a wide yawn.

“Get some sleep,” Yao Lin says indulgently, “There’s a couple of hours till supper.”

I take his advice.  But for a while I can’t sleep.  Talking about Qiu City has awakened a desperate longing for Shan, and a terrible fear. 

Where is he?  Is he safe?  Suppose I never see him again?