His father, Kwan Yu-tsun, commended him to my care, after saying that he is to be one of your pupils. He’s a bit willful, the young man, and he’d pay far more heed to your august self than to me. You might be so kind as suggest a suitable place to live? Adequate, yet not too expensive.”
After a long moment of serious pondering, the old man said, “There’s a certain Hui Kai-shek—he has vacancies in this house on Old Pagoda Street, right in the adjacent quarter. As for your deceased comrade’s daughter, why not send her to Master Hui? She can get to work readying the rooms and doing a bit of shopping to stock the place.” From his sleeve, Colonel Tsao took a red envelope inscribed in gilt. Holding this with both hands, he bowed three times.
“Doctor Wu, if you give this trifling gift to the poor, you will gain a small measure of merit. I earnestly hope that it brings you luck.”
As he took leave, Tsao was certain that Doctor Wu would consider himself to be one of the underprivileged; and then there would be a present from Master Hui and, finally, from the widowed daughter of the Colonel’s deceased comrade.
The coolies took him to a quarter where lights, song, and music brightened the night. Elaborate chairs and palanquins, lacquered and gilded, were leaving and arriving. A few were preceded by footmen with staves and whips to clear the way. One had an escort of halberdiers—almost certainly the palanquin of a patron, as few ladies of that quarter rated any such distinction.
Tsao’s inconspicuous equipage halted at a quiet place, one with the minimum of lights; the gatekeeper affected no livery, though his jacket was faultless and freshly laundered, He admitted Tsao at once. And tai-tai, the Supreme Lady, received him without delay.
She was an elegant, small person, white-haired, imperial in bearing and manner. Her tunic was of black silk. Her only adornments other than jade hairpins were a necklace of emerald jade and bracelets of mutton fat jade.
On each side, the greeting was stately. Lady Meilan was a personage; she could not be called a booking agent of elite sing-song girls, and much less the keeper of a superlatively fine whorehouse. Insofar as she could be classified, one might say that Lady Meilan supplied temporary concubines for officials setting out, for instance, on tours of provincial inspection. Nothing was standard except supremely high quality. Each arrangement was by special negotiation.
“Colonel, you’re concerned about something. Do sit down and get it off your mind. When that’s done, I’ll send for wine.”
He sighed. “Mind reader! Well, yes, I am concerned. How is Orchid Cluster doing?”
“She’s doing very nicely.” Meilan flicked her silken fan. “I hope you’re not thinking of buying her contract?”
“I’m hoping no one has a claim now or…well, it won’t be too long, but…”
“Suppose,” Lady Meilan proposed, “that I send for Orchid Cluster and we’ll hear what you have in mind.”
Tsao brightened. “I feel better all ready! This is something special, and I can’t imagine anyone I’d trust further than Orchid Cluster! Such a grand background.”
Chapter X
After standing for a moment, pondering the departing Mongol’s suggestion, Ju-hai turned to Shou-chi. “Younger Brother, I may have to consult a shaman before Tm through with all this school business. Anyway, you take charge—sell what’s to be sold, buy what’s to be bought, and don’t take too much of anyone’s advice. That includes mine! I’m going to be busy from now on—getting some clothes, paying respects to Master Wu, finding a place to live.”
“You think you ought to see the shaman? I won’t know what to do or say—I’ll make nothing but mistakes.”
“You’ll not catch up with me! Do I know how to be a student or live in a city? Did the Old Man ever tell you about the burglar whose health was failing, and how his son learned to be a burglar?”
“He never tells me stories.”
“You’ll get your fill, now that you’re taking my place. Listen with both ears:
“The old burglar and his Number One Son went to the house they were going to rob. The man handed the boy a thing to bore through the rammed earth wall, hole after hole, with no noise. When the boy made enough holes, he took out the piece of wall.
“He followed his father into a room where no people slept. In the room were chests of camphor wood and chests of cedar. The smells told him where to start. He opened the door of a tall closet—not built in; it was sitting against the wall. The father said, “Very good, go in, pick good things. Feel, smell, heft, and make no noise.’
“The son stepped in. His father closed and secured the door from the outside and got out of the house. Being in a bad position, the son wasted no time cursing or crying. He began to scratch, making a sound like mice or rats. This awakened the servants. One of the slave girls opened the cabinet. The young burglar gave her a shove, sending her tumbling. She screamed. The whole household tinned out to chase the housebreaker. To make it worse, a bright moon was rising. But he got through the hole in the wall; he ran and he ran. But with so many chasing him, one of the crowd always headed him off. Then, while he still had a lead, he saw a well, an old well, and he ran toward it till he got to the coping around the well. He flopped to the ground, but it looked as if he’d thrown himself into the well. Lying in dark shadow, he picked a stone from the coping and dropped it into the well. Being close, the people heard the loud splash and the yell. They figured he’d drowned himself rather than get beaten to death, so they went home.
“And the boy also went home. The old man said, ‘Son, do not speak unfilial words. You are now a journeyman burglar, and I bow three times. You are now head of the house.’ ”
Having thus encouraged Younger Brother, Ju-hai cleaned up at a bathhouse and made the rounds of clothing stores. Finally, he had himself fitted out in a dark gray tunic, proper felt boots, and the right sort of cap with the correct button. Ju-hai looked better than he felt. Ch’ang-an was impressive, and oppressive.
He made a detour to the street of jade workers, watched the artists at work, and looked at their finished belt buckles, pendants, hairpins, and statuettes. Finally, he left with a better opinion of the pectoral he had made for Hsi-feng and picked his way toward the home of Master Wu.
The teacher lived on one of the less affluent blocks of one of the less affluent streets. A scholar who did not reach the better official grades could always make a living, but little more than just that. One revered a teacher as one step short of a parent—but who’d want to be one!
Ju-hai managed to make one kowtow before Master Wu checked him.
“This person—Ju-hai, surname Kwan—” He dug a paper from his sleeve and offered it with both hands. “—is the son of a farmer.”
“I remember your distinguished father. Please sit with me—I am honored—”
When they had gone through the routine, with inquiries regarding the health of each other’s families for three generations back, Master Wu at last got to new business. “And where will you be living?”
Ju-hai said that he could not have been so sottishly stupid and ill-mannered as to pick a spot without first getting the jade opinion of his distinguished preceptor. After frownings and beard combings with slender, well kept fingers, the learned man admitted that he knew of an unworthy hovel. “Just vacated by one of my
