Jinhai

 

I’m miserable.  And because I’m miserable, I’m feeling guilty.  Instead of being relieved and joyful that it’s all over, that Shan’s back and the danger’s gone, I’m depressed and listless.  I’m used to the temporary feeling of anti-climax after a battle, but this isn’t the same.  It’s grown on me gradually.  I feel tired all the time.  I don’t feel like making love.  I’ve refused Shan a couple of times, which I’ve never done before.  He hasn't asked questions, but I feel I owe him an explanation and I haven’t got one.  Surely it shouldn’t be like this?  Yes, the last year has been stressful and exhausting, but it’s not the past that’s bothering me so much as the future.  Long glum months stretch ahead.

In this dismal frame of mind, I groan when a message comes from Qin Feng, saying he needs to speak to me.  He’s returned to the capital because his father’s unwell.  At the appointed hour I ride to the Qin family house to find everyone in mourning.  Sir Qin has died.  Qin Feng himself looks like a ghost, his face pallid, eyes puffy.  He’s head of the family now.  I offer condolences and congratulations, but he waves my words aside.  “There wasn’t much affection between my father and me.  You’re not looking well, Ah-Hai.”

“Haven’t been sleeping much,” I lie.  Then I see him wince and realize he’s misunderstood.  “I didn’t mean that,” I say tiredly.  “How have you been?”

“As you see.”

Indeed, there’s an unhealthy tinge to his face and he’s carrying too much weight.  He smiles bitterly.  “I didn’t follow your advice.”  

I find myself unable to say anything.  I remember Wu Shun saying, You can hold your hand out but you can’t force someone to take it.

“My wife and I are divorcing,” he says.  “But that’s not why I asked you to come.  I wanted to give you this.”

He hands me a piece of paper.  It’s dated from five years before and it states that a male child born on such and such a date is the illegitimate son of a certain Xinyi, first son of the Zhuan family.  I recognize the name.  They’re a family of landowners who have fallen on hard times. 

“When I bought Xinyi’s contract, the brothel-owner gave me this as well.  He got it from the people who sold Xinyi to him.  I’d like him to have it, though it won’t be much use to him now.  I gather there’s nobody left in the family except a grandmother.”

“I’ll make sure he gets it,” I say, putting the paper into my pouch.  “Is there anything I can do for you, Ah-Feng?”

“No.”

The finality of the word’s like a blow.  There seems nothing much else to say, so I take my leave, feeling unhappily that there ought to be something I can do, if only I wasn’t too tired to think of it.  But perhaps my very presence is painful to him.

Back home, Xinyi takes the news quietly.  He looks at the paper and thanks me.  “When I was very young I guessed that my mother’s husband wasn’t my father.  And one day my brothers and I quarrelled and they yelled at me that I was a bastard.  My mother consoled me by telling me my real father was a handsome Young Master and that he’d come to take me away one day.  But he never did.  I thought she’d just made it up.”

“Qin Feng told me the family’s fallen on hard times.  Anyway, there’s no need to do anything right now.  Perhaps one day you might feel like investigating.”

“Yes, I’ll keep it,” he says. “Thank you, Ah-Jing.”

The great day arrives when Shan’s splints can be removed.  Liang Zhou examines the wrist, which has healed well.  “Excellent,” he says, smiling.  “But don’t overdo the exercise – get back into it gradually.”

“Don’t worry,” Shan says, flexing his fingers.  “I remember what to do from the time the Dings broke my arm.  Lady Han gave me detailed instructions.”

His words bring Han Ming’s smiling face back into my mind and with it a rush of memories and feelings which threaten to overwhelm me.  Muttering an excuse, I escape into Liang Zhou’s courtyard and sit down under a tree, my heart pounding.

A friendly voice says, “What’s up?”

It’s Mo Jiang.  He takes one look at me and sits down, putting an arm round my shoulders.  “Come on, tell big brother all about it.”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me, Ah-Jiang.  I ought to be happy, but I’m not.  I feel so - so down all the time.  Even with Shan.”

“Ah," he says, "Well, I can make a guess as to why.  I was watching your face when the caravan left.  You were dying to go with them.  And to tell you the truth, so was I.”

I look up at him.  “But, you and Ah-Jie….”

“There is no me and Ah-Jie,” he says with a rueful grin.  “She’s not interested.  She wants to devote her life to her young lady.”

"I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No need.  As my old Granddad used to say, there are plenty of persimmons on the tree.  The point is, we’re missing the excitement and the comradeship of those days going to Qiu and that winter we spent there.  That’s why we keep banging on about it whenever we all meet up.”

I sigh.  “You’re right.  Everything seems so tame now.  Shan and I are talking about going north-west next spring, but it seems like such a long time to wait.”

“I was thinking of joining the army again,” he says with a laugh.  “But maybe I’ll wait and come with you instead.”

“Ah, that would be good.”  I rest my head on his reassuringly broad shoulder and sigh again.  “It’s just a question of hanging on for another year.”

“Tell the Commander how you feel.”

“I don’t want to worry him.  He’s only just recovered from his injuries and there have been so many problems to sort out.”

He says nothing, but the arm round me tightens a little.  Across the courtyard, Shan and Liang Zhou emerge into the sunlight.

“Time to go,” I say with another sigh.  “We’re invited to the Pavilion tonight.  Yuan Song wants to introduce us to the new owners.”

“Well, chin up,” Mo Jiang says, releasing me.  "Things will work out, you'll see."

Shan’s in high spirits, now that he has the use of his right hand again.  I’m feeling a little more cheerful after the chat with Mo Jiang, but my mood takes a severe downward swing when we get into Yuan Song’s apartment.  Duan Bai’s there, together with two young women who rise to face us as we enter.  One’s a head taller than the other.  Both are beautiful.  At my side, Shan stiffens slightly and a cold finger of suspicion creeps down my spine.

Yuan Song speaks courteously.  “Jinhai, may I introduce Ma Xiuying and Ma Lingxin?  I believe Sir Liao needs no introduction.”

I’ve never met either of the celebrated Ma sisters, although I know a lot about them.  Although Ma Xiuying was our contact in Border Town, I’ve never been face to face with her.  She has a hard beauty which reminds me uncomfortably of Xu Yating.  And of course, in Border Town, she and Shan …….   Shagged him witless, Shao Ru’s voice says in my mind.  The younger, shorter sister looks both pretty and charming.  She was Shan’s lover before he met me.

I hope my feelings aren’t showing on my face, but I’m not sure, because Yuan Song gives me a concerned look.  I get a grip on myself and make the correct, polite responses.  Ma Xiuying also bows, her face impassive, but her sister dashes forward and seizes both Shan’s hands, reaching on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.  “We heard you were injured – are you better now?  And this is your little Prince?”  She turns to me smiling.  But before I can open my mouth to reply, she turns back to Shan, seizes his arm and pulls him to sit down with her at one of the three double tables that are arranged in the room.  “Come and tell me all about your time in the south,” she says merrily.

We were obviously meant to eat in couples, but Ma Lingxin has pre-empted me.  I’m left standing like an idiot.  Duan Bai frowns and Yuan Song looks taken aback, but before anyone else can intervene, I’m rescued unexpectedly by Ma Xiuying, who says gravely, “Please join me, Your Highness,” and moves gracefully to sit at another of the tables, gesturing to me to sit with her.

“Thank you, Lady Ma, I will.  But I’m not a Prince anymore, just plain Zhao Jinhai, so there’s no need to be formal.”

Yuan Song claps his hands for the servants to bring the food, as Ma Lingxin chatters happily to Shan, waving her fan.  Shan’s face has a faint flush, but I can’t catch his eye because of the way the tables are arranged. 

“My sister’s being rather naughty,” Ma Xiuying says, a note of annoyance in her voice.  Her gaze is fixed on Shan.

I look at Yuan Song rather helplessly. 

“Xinxin and Yingying are taking over the Pavilion from me,” he says, “Or rather, they’re taking it back.  We were joint owners but I’ve sold them my share.”

I ask about his plans, but I’m not really listening to the answers.  I’m trying to hear what Shan and Ma Lingxin are talking about so animatedly.  Or at least, she’s animated.  His replies are very short.  All in all, the atmosphere’s extremely awkward.  Despite attempts by both Yuan Song and Ma Xuying to make the conversation more general, Ma Lingxin continues to monopolize Shan for the whole of the meal.  As the servants take the empty dishes away, I take advantage of the general bustle to excuse myself and go out onto the veranda, where I sit down heavily on the top step and put my head in my hands.

A disturbance of the air warns me that someone’s come out behind me.  Duan Bai joins me silently on the step.  “What’s with those kitties?” he asks in his casual way.

“Shan’s slept with them both,” I say despairingly.

“Ah.”  He falls silent for a second or two, then says, “You shouldn’t worry about it.  We’ve all got pasts.”

“I haven’t.”

In the light from the veranda lantern, I see him smile.  He puts a hand out and ruffles my hair affectionately.  “No, you haven’t.  He’s your first love.  But think about it.  They may be his past, but you’re his present and future.  Any fool can see he’s crazy about you.  That’s why that woman’s trying so hard.  Get in there and give her a run for her money.”  He gets up and stretches.  “I’ve had enough of this evening.  I’m off.  Tell Ah-Song I’ll be back later, would you?”

And before I can reply, he melts noiselessly into the shadows like the night-walking cat that he is.

He’s right.  I have to assert myself.  Going back in, I see that the servants have taken away the tables and that the company has transferred itself to the couches.  Ma Lingxin’s still glued to Shan’s side.  I sit down firmly next to Yuan Song.  “Ah-Bai’s gone on the prowl,” I say.  “He’ll be back later.”

Ma Xiuying says, “I hear you’ve gone into business, Young Master Zhao.”

“Yes, I’ve formed a consortium with two family trading houses, the Leis and the Yaos.  And I’m taking over this end of my father’s business as well.  Our caravan left for the north-west some time ago.”

“And it was your idea to form a permanent escort troop to accompany your caravans?  That’s a smart move.”

“I was also thinking about starting up a fast courier service to serve the major merchant towns where the Imperial couriers don’t go.  Merchants need to communicate with one another and they also need information, but hiring a courier for each individual message is expensive.  A regular service could make a profit.”

“Now that sounds like a smart move too,” says Yuan Song.  “How do you plan to go about it?”  Shan’s sitting up listening and even Ma Lingxin has fallen silent and is looking at me. 

To tell the truth, this is an idea I’ve been playing around with for a while, but I haven’t worked out any details yet, so I’m forced to put my thoughts in order rather quickly.  “I’d have to identify the best destinations, starting with the north-west route.  We’d need staging posts, horses, riders, managers.  I'd like to send somebody out soon to make a survey of the possibilities, work out how much of everything would be needed and make an analysis of the costs and the potential profits.  It would be a big initial outlay, but I’ve got the funds.”

“Or you could appeal for investors,” Yuan Song suggests, “If the profits look substantial enough.”

“We could help you,” Ma Xiuying says.  “The contacts from Sir Li’s information network are still out there.  We could give you a list of names.  And of course, we could provide you with information ourselves.”

I blink a little.  They’re running with it.  “That would be great.  And I think I know a person who could do the survey.  If all goes well, we could get a service going by next spring.”

“And then you could open a route to the coast,” Yuan Song says lightly.  “Ah-Bai and I will be waiting.”

The party breaks up not long after.  Shan and I walk home in silence and gloom descends on me again.  But as we get ready for bed, Shan says thoughtfully, “Good idea of yours, that courier service.  Everyone was impressed.”

“Do you think so?  I was thinking most of it out on the hoof.”

“It didn’t show.  You were very convincing.”

“I think I could persuade Mo Jiang to go and do the survey for us.  He said he needs a change.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Shan says.  “Why don’t we go ourselves?”