The capital- Jinhai

 

For a few days after I hand the incriminating papers to Wu Shun, nothing much happens except that the night curfew’s lifted, upon representations being made to the Palace by the powerful people who run the red-lantern district, furious that their profits have plunged.  Since many of the persons at court are taking bribes of various sorts from the brothel owners, it’s in everyone’s interest to get business going again as soon as possible.  The night patrols are suppressed.  We can start our campaign.

Liang Zhou’s still busy dealing with the last of the epidemic, which is just as well, because if he knew what we were doing, he’d almost certainly object violently.  The teams are ready:  Yao Lin and me, Qian Hu and Xinyi and Mo Jiang with Hao Meng.  We have the posters.  We have the paste.  Qian Hu has told us which are the best places to post, those where the greatest number of people will see the drawings. 

On the chosen night, we assemble in the Cloud House as if we’re having a gathering of friends.  We change into dark garments.  We cover our heads and the lower part of our faces in dark cloth, as assassins do.  A final briefing, and we slip quietly out of the house, each team furnished with paste, a brush and a bundle of posters. 

It really feels like a student prank, which is crazy because if we’re caught, we risk a dreadful punishment.  But I feel oddly elated and I can tell from Yao Lin’s behaviour that he feels the same.  He’s carrying the paste-pot.  I have the bundle of posters.  At this late hour there are few people about and we pass unnoticed in the shadows.  We’ve actually practised the technique:  four quick sweeps with the paste brush, a quick flattening of the poster on the board and then we’re gone.  When you’re in action like this, time goes quickly.  Almost before it’s possible, we’ve put up all our posters and are heading home.  Qian Hu and Xinyi come in half an hour later, both a little crazy with excitement.  Mo Jiang’s going straight back to the Liang house and Hao Meng to his inn, but the four of us do a little dance of triumph and break out a jar of wine.  We can’t stop talking about it.  We’re so hyped up that it’s almost dawn by the time we get to bed and even then we can’t sleep.

Just after daybreak Mo Jiang turns up, looking triumphant.  He and Hao Meng had no problems and he got home without disturbing the household.   

“Fortunately it hasn’t rained,” he says, “That might have damaged the posters.  But I checked on my way here and everything’s all right.”

“Should we go out and see what’s happening?” Xinyi asks eagerly.  Qian Hu has spent the night with us, dossing down on the old couch in the reception room.  We’re all a little bleary-eyed, but tea and breakfast revive us and we venture out, hardly knowing what to expect.

There’s a public notice-board at the end of our street and there’s a small crowd round it.  We join in, feigning curiosity.  There are exclamations of surprise, a little laughter, then someone cracks a joke and the laughter grows.  More people are drawn to the spectacle:  this is the picture of the Emperor being chased by his mother with a broom.  The crowd’s enjoyably shocked, delighted, amused.  People walk away grinning and shaking their heads, as more come over to see what’s going on.  Someone says there’s a different poster in the next street, even funnier than this one.  A few go off to take a look.

“I think you could call this a success,” says Mo Jiang, blowing out his cheeks.

Xinyi’s dancing up and down with excitement, hanging onto Qian Hu’s arm.

My main feeling’s one of relief.  There was a lurking fear at the back of my mind that it wouldn’t work, that nobody’d notice, that the posters would fall off or that soldiers would come and tear them down before anyone could see them.  But if this scene’s being repeated all round the city, then we’ve struck a first blow.  The second won’t be so easy.

I accompany Yao Lin and Mo Jiang back to the Liang house.  On the way, we see more knots of people gathered round notice-boards.  Some are silent or disapproving, because insulting the Emperor’s forbidden, but most are enjoying the jokes.  I suspect that as soon as the news gets to the Palace, soldiers will be sent to get rid of the evidence, but so far nobody’s come. 

The Cherry Blossom Pavilion’s my next stop.  Yuan Song has just got up and is still in his night-robe, but he’s heard the news already.  “Congratulations are in order,” he says, smiling, “You did a good job.  It probably won’t be long before the Palace hears about it.”

“Good.  The angrier it makes Xu Yating, the better.”

“Destroy all the evidence.  No doubt enquiries will be made.  I take it the drawings can’t be traced back to Qian Hu?”

“No, he disguised his style to make it appear foreign – more in the fashion of Dongying.”

“A nice touch,” says Yuan Song.  “Any news from the Wu family?”

“Not yet.  Minister Wu’s checking out the sources before he makes his move.  But it shouldn’t be long.”

“Excellent.  I’ve asked around about these rumours concerning the Emperor.  Your sources were correct.  He acquired a taste for young men while in the army camp.  Young attractive soldiers were ordered to serve him.  However this created a scandal in the ranks, so after that his people brought in boys from the outside.  And when he returned to the capital, he began frequenting male brothels and has done so ever since.  There’s a rumour which I’ve been unable to verify that he strangled a boy to death in the throes of passion.”

“We can't make a joke out of that,” I say, chilled.

“No.  With this, we’re better off circulating rumours.  What better place than here?  A little word in a few influential ears, particularly those of heads of households who are hoping to marry a daughter into the Palace.  Leave that to me.  Go home and get some sleep.  You look as if you need it.”

Back home in the mid-afternoon, there’s no-one to be seen.  I hear the sound of voices in Xinyi’s room and walk idly down the corridor to his door.  Then I stop dead, realizing what’s going on.  There’s no mistaking those sounds:  Xinyi and Qian Hu are making noisy and enthusiastic love.  I retreat, feeling envious and not a little aroused.  When I do eventually fall asleep, I have such a vividly erotic dream that my reaction wakes me up, sweating and damp.  There’s a light burning in the reception room.  I sort myself out and go in search of a drink.  Yao Lin’s sitting at the table with a cup of tea.  He looks as if he’s lost a gold piece and found a worm-cast.

“What?” I say.

“Doctor Liang came back today.  He overheard us talking about last night and he’s absolutely furious.  He sacked me and turned Mo Jiang out of the house.  He wants to see you tomorrow.”

“Where did Mo Jiang go?”

“Hao Meng’s inn.  He reckons Doctor Liang will change his mind in a couple of days.  I’m not so sure.”

I pour myself a cup of tea and sit cradling it in my hands.  This is what I feared.  Liang Zhou will be thinking first and foremost of his family and patients and how our actions could put them in danger.  Yao Lin glances at me.  “I feel really down, now it’s all over.”

“Normal reaction.  You’ll feel better tomorrow.  Did Liang Zhou tear a strip off you?”

“He was incandescent,” says Yao Lin glumly. “You’d better wear armour when you see him.”  He stretches, yawning.  “Well, looking on the bright side, at least I don’t have to get up early tomorrow.  Where’s Xinyi?”

“In bed with Qian Hu.”

“Ah,” says Yao Lin.  “Well, that was predictable.  They’ve been gazing into each other’s eyes for days now.  Phew, I’m tired.”

“Get some sleep.  Things will sort themselves out.”

In spite of my brave words, I’m feeling distinctly nervous as I approach the Liang house next day.  I know how stern Liang Zhou can be and although our relationship has changed since last year, I still feel like an erring student approaching the master’s study for a dressing-down.

It’s a measure of how angry he is that when he sees me, he glances away, then points to the inside of the house and says curtly, “Wait for me in there.”  I sit for two hours.  Nobody brings me tea.  Nobody comes at all.  I guess that the household’s been forbidden to speak to me.  Finally Liang Zhou appears, takes off his apron, tosses it aside, and says, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

I stand up and bow.  “I humbly apologize.  I shouldn’t have involved anyone in your household.  It was a foolish risk.”

“I’m glad you realize that.  When I think of my wife, Ah-Lien, the children, the patients – we could all have lost our lives if anything had gone wrong.”

“I know.  I didn’t think things through as I should have.  I won’t involve any of you again.”

He frowns.  “You mean you’re going on with this crazy plan?”

“What else can I do?  If things don’t move here, Shan and the others will be stuck in the south indefinitely.  And if Xu Yating starts the war up again in the spring, our friends will be caught on the wrong side.”

“The danger…. You know what’ll happen if you’re caught?”

“Yes.”

He turns to face me for the first time.  “Jinhai, just drop it.  Leave.  Go north-west with Yao Lin in the spring.  Take Ah-Lien and the child to your father, as Shan planned.”

“It may come to that.  Though if I do, Shan and I might not meet again for years, if ever.  So I have to try this first.  And I promise not to put the innocent at risk again.”

“Jinhai….”

“It’s my choice,” I say.

He looks away, his face suddenly desolate.  “How will I explain to Shan if you get yourself killed?  I saw what it did to him back then, when we thought you were dead.”

This moves things onto a different plane.  I have to reassure him, but I don’t even know how to address him anymore.  “Sir, you won’t have to explain.  I’ll be careful.  I really will.  So please, don’t worry.  And talk to Mo Jiang.  Don’t fall out with him over this.”

“No, you’re right, I shouldn’t,” he says ruefully, “Regrettably, I lost my temper.  Do you know where I can find him?”

“He’s at the Six Flowers inn.  You were right to get angry.  But you should be angry with me because I’m the one who was careless.  It won’t happen again.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, sir.”

To my surprise he comes over and hugs me briefly.  “Call me by my name,” he says, “I’m not your superior officer any more.  Lunch should be ready soon.  Come and eat with us.”

When I get home, Wu Shun’s waiting on the verandah, watching Qian Hu and Xinyi planting shrubs in the garden.  He jumps up and beams when he sees me.

“Success!” he says.  “My father brought that matter up in the Council.  He produced witnesses and proof.  Gu Lim’s been arrested and there’s an investigation going on.  There are questions about the Prime Minister’s involvement.  We think he’ll have to resign.”

“Did anyone try to bury it?”

“Xu Yating’s people tried to brush it aside, but the Emperor intervened.  He was furious at being criticized for the failure of the campaign.  Now he can shift the blame onto his mother’s supporters.”

“Excellent.  Couldn’t be better.”

He looks at me sideways.  “Um… about those posters…”

“What posters?” I say innocently.

He grins.  “The Palace sent guards out to tear them all down.  Copies were sent to the Emperor and his mother.  There are rumours of violent quarrels in the Inner Palace.  Relations between mother and son are reported to be at an all-time low.”

“Will there be repercussions?”

“More guards on the streets, investigations among the artistic community, punishments for anyone talking about the posters.”

I feel again the weight of responsibility.  If anyone’s arrested, it’ll be my fault.

As it happens, the artistic community puts the blame squarely on foreign agitators, citing the style of the drawings as proof.  A number of foreign artists hastily leave the capital.  A few are questioned and then let go.  The Palace slaps a tax on paint and brushes, just as a warning.  The number of soldiers on the streets increases, particularly at night.

The official investigation finds Gu Lim guilty of fraud and embezzlement.  The Gu family is ordered to relinquish all its government posts, repay the money pocketed by Gu Lim and go into exile.  Only Xu Yating’s personal intervention once again prevents Gu Lim from losing his head.  A new Prime Minister is appointed, from a neutral faction.  Wu Shun’s father, also a member of the neutral faction, is promoted to Minister of Justice.  Xu Yating’s influence is weakened, the members of her faction made aware that they’re vulnerable.

As time goes on, rumours start to circulate about the Emperor’s sexual habits.  The Dowager Empress’s attempts to find her son a bride begin to meet with evasion and excuses from the heads of noble houses.  People suddenly remember that a merchant’s daughter drowned herself rather than be taken into the Palace.  Gossip blows the rumours out of proportion.  The Emperor stands accused of various crimes, the more lurid the better.  The Palace’s attempts to stifle the rumours by punishing gossipers only make things worse.

In the midst of this, I’m summoned to the Cherry Blossom Pavilion by Yuan Song.  “We have an opportunity,” he says.  “But you may not like the sound of it.”