The Market, a month previously- Jinhai

 

As Shan rides away into the mist, somebody coughs behind me.  It’s Hao Meng.

“He’ll be fine,” he says, “He’s a resourceful man.  He’ll be waiting for you in the capital.”

“I know.  It’s just so sudden.”

A sympathetic hand lands heavily on my shoulder.  “We’re leaving tomorrow.  I’ll find someone to replace him today.  You make sure that everyone’s ready to leave, all right?”

“Understood.”

“Good lad.”

Back at the wagon, Yao Lin’s raking up the camp-fire.  He looks up.  “What’s going on?  I saw Sir Zhan leave.”

“He had some bad news about his family so he’s heading to the capital.”

“Ah.  That’s a pity.” He looks at me as if he’s not quite sure how to put what he’s going to say next.  “You’ll be able to see him there, won’t you?”

“Yes, he’s told me where to contact him.”

“That’s good.  We’ll all miss him.”

He hands me a cup of hot tea, his face full of sympathy.  “We’ll be off tomorrow.  So it won’t be long before we‘re there.”

“Make sure you’ve got all the supplies you need by the end of the day,” I say.  “I’ll get the medical stuff for your Dad, so you get the food.”

“Will do.”

Halfway through the morning, a man in police uniform comes by with a message from Ren Baiyi, asking Shan and me to meet him for the noon meal if we’re free.  I look at the note with dull eyes.

“Are you going?” Yao Lin asks diffidently.

“I don’t really feel like it.”

“You should go.  He’s a friend.  It’ll cheer you up.”

The boy’s worried about me.

“All right.  If you promise to stop looking at me as if I’m about to be translated to the underworld.”

“Deal.”

I meet Ren Baiyi at the riverside restaurant, dreading the inevitable explanation about Shan’s absence.  However, by some mysterious means, he’s already heard.  He’s in a good mood.   He’s captured a lot of troublesome people, so the merchants are pleased and have been very generous with their rewards. 

“Sounds like a sweet gig,” I remark, “Salary and perks.  How long’s it going to last?”

“Till the end of summer.  Then everyone packs up and goes off home.  With a bit of luck they’ll want us again next year.”

“What’ll you do in the meantime?”

“Wuying and I are going back to the capital for some rest and recreation.  We’ll meet up and you can buy those drinks you promised.”

“It’s a date,” I say.  “We’ll get everyone together and have a party.”

Inevitably, we start reminiscing about our time in Qiu City, recalling familiar events and faces.  As Yao Lin was hoping, I begin to cheer up.  As the shadows lengthen and I prepare to head back to the caravan, Ren Baiyi produces a small package wrapped in cloth and hands it to me.

“Could you – um – give this to Young Miss Lai?" he asks, a faint pink flush on his cheekbones.

“Yes, of course.  Any message?”

“Um – no.  Just say it’s from me.”

 “Ah-Yi,” I say innocently, “Is it possible?  Love at first sight?”

The pink face becomes red.  “Just give it to her, will you?”

“Of course I will.  But you could always come over and give it to her yourself.”

“Too busy,” he says, coughing. 

“Idiot,” I say, embracing him.  “Take care of yourself.”

“And you.  See you in the winter.”

There’s something of a bustle back at the camp.  I find a moment to give Ren Baiyi’s package to Lai Xia, who blushes from her collars to her hairline and disappears into the wagon clutching the gift.  She doesn’t seem to be suffering any ill-effects after her kidnapping.  In fact she’s positively bouncing with fifteen-year-old energy.  This little rebel won’t end up the same way as Zhu Yu or Yu Kang, I think to myself.  We’ve saved this one.  And Ren Baiyi’s in love, poor soul.    Sadly, I can’t believe that anything will come of this chance meeting.  The Lai family won’t look too kindly on someone with no family background and uncertain prospects. 

That evening, Hao Meng and I carry Yao Yuhan out onto the wagon steps so he can be included in the evening meal.  The evening’s balmy, the faces of the young people round the fire are animated.  Yao Yuhan doesn’t eat much, but there’s a smile on his face as he looks at the pleasant scene.  The grey dog joins us, hoping for scraps.  Hao Meng has a wine-jug in his hand.  “If the weather holds, we’ll be in the capital in six weeks or so,” he says.  “I’ll be glad to get on the road again.”  He hands Yao Yuhan the jug.

Yao Yuhan takes a drink of wine and hand the jug on to me.  “I may not see the capital,” he says, “But I’m glad to have come this far.  I’m grateful to Young Master Zhao for making it possible.”

“My privilege,” I say, “And don’t give up just yet.”

He smiles, looking at his son’s face in the firelight.

We leave next morning in a fine mist which flows off the river and shrouds the road ahead of us.  And so the seemingly endless journey begins again.  Hao Meng has engaged a new guard to replace Shan, a stolid and experienced ex-soldier who fits in quickly with no fuss.  Our pace is frustratingly slow, but every day brings us closer to the capital and there are no more attacks or accidents.  At last, everyone’s pulling together and cooperating.  The young people are behaving themselves, practising their sword techniques, helping with the chores and riding alongside the caravan with enthusiasm, the only exception being Fang Tian, wrapped in grief over Zhu Yu’s death.  Freed from confinement, Lai Xia’s a new person.  She takes to sword-practice with tremendous energy and some talent, and is so charming that all the boys fall for her except Yao Lin who, I suspect, has left his heart with the magistrate’s daughter in Orchard Town. 

However, two weeks after our departure from The Market, the cruel road takes yet another life, that of Yao Yuhan, weakened by several days of cold wet weather.  I’m alerted to trouble by shouts ahead and see that the caravan has jolted to a halt.  The voice shouting is Yao Lin’s.  I gallop forward, slide off Blaze and climb into the wagon.  Madam Lei’s been travelling in the Yao wagon during the day.  She’s holding Yao Yuhan’s frail body in her arms.  He’s racked by coughing.  As I arrive, he lapses into unconsciousness.  The quilt’s soaked in blood.  I bend over to check his breathing.  He’s still alive, but only just.

Yao Lin joins us, white-faced and trembling.  “Is he all right?”

“For the moment,” I say, “But he can’t hold on much longer.”

“He’s not going to die, is he?”

He reads the answer in our faces and covers his mouth with his hands like a child caught stealing sweets.  I reach out and take him by the shoulders.  “Your Dad didn’t want you to know, but he’s been hanging on by his fingertips for some time now.  He’s not afraid, so you shouldn’t be.  Stay with him.  Lai Xue can drive the wagon.”

He nods, tears starting down his face.

Madam Lei’s soft voice breaks in.  “Ah-Lin, come and help me.”  The boy lurches forward and falls on his knees beside the bed.  I jump down from the wagon as they busy themselves replacing the bloodstained clothes and bedding.  Hao Meng’s there.  I explain the situation. 

“The next camp’s only an hour or so away,” Hao Meng says, “Can he make it that far?”

“I think so.  Let’s get them moving.”

We move on.  At the camping place, I go back to the Yao wagon and knock.  Inside, I find that Yao Yuhan has regained consciousness, but his face looks transparent and the smell of blood is still in the air.  Madam Lei and Yao Lin are holding his hands.  Yao Yuhan looks at me. “It’s time,” he says, his voice a ghost of a whisper.  His face is serene.

I have everything prepared.  All I need to do is heat the water.  When the cup’s ready, I take my place behind Yao Yuhan so that the thin body is leaning against my chest, and lift the cup to his lips.  When the cup’s empty, I slide out to leave my place for Yao Lin, so that Yao Yuhan dies in his son’s arms, with friends all around.

We bury him with his wife’s ashes, as he wished.  Yao Lin’s crying in my arms and my own face is wet with uncontrollable tears.  Little Huang’s holding onto my clothing and even Lai Xue’s sniffling.  Madam Lei, her face terribly distressed, is supported by Lei Qing, Lai Xia and Madam Zhu.  Zhu Min’s not present.  Since his son’s death, he has scarcely left his wagon.

It’s unbearably hard to leave Yao Yuhan behind.  I make a drawing of the place so that Yao Lin can find it again if he ever comes back this way.  Then we go on, as we must, carrying our sorrow with us.

The Yao wagon seems very empty now, but somehow Yao Lin and I find comfort in our mutual sorrow.  I realize that, painful as it may have been, it was the right decision to stay with the caravan.  I couldn’t have left Ah-Lin to face this alone.

The misery over Shan’s departure becomes a dull ache under the sharper grief of Yao Yuhan’s death.  Sometimes at night I feel that I’m going to be crushed under the weight of it all, but daylight comes and with it the reassurance of the daily routine and the sympathy of friends.  And as we draw nearer to the capital and the summer advances, the prospect of reuniting with Shan begins to raise my spirits.

We’re now seeing more Imperial troops on the road, usually in small numbers, because the bulk of the army’s still away in the south supporting the Emperor in his futile feud with the southern lords.  Nobody bothers us.  Hao Meng’s well-known and no-one’s really interested in yet another merchant caravan. 

I’ve been wondering how I’m going to get into the capital.  I know nothing about the city.  All I ever knew was the Imperial Palace.  Somehow I have to gain entry and find my way about.  In the end, I appeal to Madam Lei and ask her to let me enter the city as her personal guard.  She agrees readily.  In fact, she confides that she expects more trouble from the Zhong family and would be glad of my protection.  She also offers to shelter Yao Lin until we can make contact with his uncle.

I start to feel a sense of anticipation.  Shan’s there.   And all our friends: Shao Ru, Liang Zhou, Mo Jiang and the Young Masters.  I’ll be seeing them soon.