The Deer and the Cauldron - Chapter 2 (Part 6)

When Wei Xiaobao heard that Mao Shibai intended to challenge the foremost warrior of the Manchus to a duel, he knew such a spectacle was not to be missed. In the teahouse he had often listened to the patrons describe the splendours of Beijing beneath the Son of Heaven's own nose, and the accounts had filled him with longing. He considered too that having killed Shi Song, the magistrates would surely investigate, and though he could shift the blame onto Mao Shibai, should they see through the deception the consequences would be grave indeed. Better to flee while he could. “Mao dage,” he said, “I have a favour to ask. It's not easily done, and I fear you daren't agree.”

Mao Shibai most detested being called a coward. His temper flared at once. “Your granny’s, you little…” He had meant to say “little bastard”, but checked himself in time. “What do you mean, daren’t? Speak, and I’ll agree.” He reflected that his life had been saved by this boy, and no difficulty was too great to repay the debt.

Wei Xiaobao said, “A gentleman’s word, once spoken, what horse can catch it? You’ve given your word, so you mustn’t go back on it.”

“Naturally I won’t go back on it.”

“Good! Then take me to Beijing with you.”

Mao Shibai frowned in surprise. “You want to go to Beijing too? What for?”

“I want to watch you fight Oboi.”

Mao Shibai shook his head repeatedly. “From Yangzhou to Beijing is a journey of a thousand li. The authorities have put a price on my head, and the road is fraught with danger. How can I take you?”

“I knew it. You’ll go back on your word the moment you give it. With me along, the authorities would find you easily enough, so naturally you daren’t.”

Mao Shibai flew into a rage. “What do you mean, I daren’t?”

“Then take me with you.”

“You’d be a burden. Besides, you haven’t told your mother. Won’t she worry?”

“I often stay away for days at a time, and my mother never worries.”

Mao Shibai gathered up the reins and set his horse moving. “You little imp, always some new trick.”

Wei Xiaobao shouted after him, “You daren’t take me because you can’t beat Oboi, and you’re afraid I’ll see you lose face!”

Mao Shibai’s fury blazed. He wheeled his horse about. “Who says I can’t beat Oboi?”

“You daren’t take me because you’re afraid I’ll see what a disgrace you look when you lose. You’ll be beaten flat to the ground, crying, ‘Master Oboi, have mercy! Spare this worthless dog Mao Shibai’s life!’ Just the thought of hearing it shames me to death!”

Mao Shibai roared with rage, spurred his horse forward, reached down and snatched Wei Xiaobao up, laying him across the saddle. “I’ll take you, and we’ll see who’s crying for mercy.”

Wei Xiaobao was delighted. “If I weren’t there to witness it, I’d wager the one crying for mercy would be you, not Oboi.”

Mao Shibai raised his left palm and dealt him a heavy blow on the backside. “I’ll make you cry for mercy first!”

Wei Xiaobao yelped in pain, then laughed. “A dog’s paw strikes hard, I must say!”

Mao Shibai burst out laughing. “Little imp, there’s no dealing with you.”

Wei Xiaobao would not suffer a defeat. “Old imp, there’s no dealing with you either.”

Mao Shibai laughed. “I’ll take you to Beijing, but you must obey me along the way. No mischief.”

“Who’s making mischief? You going in and out of prison, killing salt smugglers and officers, isn’t that mischief enough?”

“I can’t argue with you. I concede.” He set Wei Xiaobao on the saddle before him, rode over and led out another horse, orientated himself, and set off northwards.

Wei Xiaobao had never ridden a horse. At first he was somewhat frightened, but leaning against Mao Shibai, he knew he could not fall. After five or six li his courage grew. “Can I ride that horse instead?”

“If you can ride, ride. If you can’t, don’t try. Mind you don’t break your leg.”

Wei Xiaobao, being competitive by nature, boasted, “I’ve ridden dozens of times. Of course I can ride.” He jumped down from the saddle, went to the left side of the other horse, raised his right foot and placed it in the stirrup, then pushed off and swung himself onto the saddle. Unfortunately, mounting a horse requires first stepping into the stirrup with the left foot. By mounting with his right foot, he found himself facing the horse’s hindquarters.

Mao Shibai roared with laughter, let go the reins of Wei Xiaobao’s mount and lashed the horse’s hind legs with his whip. The horse bolted. Wei Xiaobao was terrified out of his wits and nearly fell, but clutched the horse’s tail with both hands, clamped his legs around the saddle and pressed himself flat against the horse’s back. The wind roared in his ears, and his body seemed to slide backwards. Fortunately he was small and light, and gripping the tail kept him from falling. He bellowed, “Oh my dear mother! La kuai mama, this is outrageous! Mao Shibai, if you don’t hold that horse back, I’ll curse your ancestors for eighteen generations…aiyou, aiyou…”

The horse galloped straight along the high road for over three li without slackening its pace. It rounded a bend, and ahead on a branching road to the right a mule cart was coming slowly towards them, accompanied by a white horse. A man of twenty-seven or twenty-eight rode the white horse. The cart and rider emerged onto the main road and continued north. Wei Xiaobao’s riderless mount, with no one to guide it, galloped wildly towards the cart and horse, the distance closing rapidly.

The carter shouted, “A runaway horse!” and tried to pull the cart aside. The rider on the white horse turned his mount, but Wei Xiaobao’s horse was already upon them. The man reached out and seized the reins, checking the horse’s head. The animal was galloping hard, but the man possessed great strength, and with a single pull the horse halted, snorting white vapour from its nostrils, unable to advance further.

A woman’s voice called from within the cart, “Bai dage, what’s happening?”

The man replied, “A horse has broken loose. There’s a child on it, I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead.”

Wei Xiaobao righted himself and turned his head. “Naturally I’m alive. Why would I be dead?” He saw that the man had a long face, his eyes bright and piercing, and he wore a dark silk robe with a white jade disc set in his cap. His dress and bearing marked him plainly as the son of a wealthy family. Wei Xiaobao, being of humble origin, most detested the children of the rich. He spat heavily on the ground. “Your mother’s! I’m riding a fine horse backwards, having the time of my life, and I run into a corpse blocking the road, stopping…stopping me…” He ran out of breath and collapsed coughing over the horse’s hindquarters. The horse jerked its rump and kicked backwards with its left hind leg. Wei Xiaobao yelped, slid off the horse and cried, “Aiyou wei, aiyou wei!”

The man, provoked by Wei Xiaobao’s foul mouth, had been about to punish him, but seeing him tumble off the horse in such a wretched state, merely smiled, turned his horse and followed the mule cart on its way.

Mao Shibai rode up, shouting, “Little imp, you didn’t die, did you?”

Wei Xiaobao replied, “I fell off, but I didn’t die. I was having a fine ride, when some stinking young pup blocked my path and enraged me half to death. Aiyou wei…” He groaned and struggled to his feet, but his knee gave way and he fell to his knees. Mao Shibai rode close, seized him by the scruff and lifted him onto the saddle.

After this bitter experience, Wei Xiaobao did not again suggest riding his own horse. The two shared one mount and rode on for over thirty li. The sun had reached its zenith when they came to a small market town. Mao Shibai dismounted slowly, then lifted Wei Xiaobao down, and they entered an eating house to stop for a meal.

In the brothel, Wei Xiaobao had always sat on the kitchen threshold, a blue-and-white bowl in his hands, white rice piled high with the leftover chicken, duck, fish and meat from the customers. Though there had been no shortage of food, he had never sat at a table as an equal, sharing a meal with another. Now, seeing that Mao Shibai treated him as a friend, though before them stood only a few bowls of coarse noodles and a plate of scrambled eggs, his heart was filled with happiness.

He had eaten half his noodles when the sound of neighing horses and clamouring voices rose from outside the door. Seventeen or eighteen men crowded in, their bearing unmistakably official. Wei Xiaobao was alarmed and whispered, “Government soldiers. They’ve come to arrest you. We must flee!”

Mao Shibai merely grunted, laid down his chopsticks and rested his hand on the hilt of his dao. The men, however, paid him no attention, calling repeatedly for the serving boy to hasten with the food.

The small eating house in the market town had little to offer: only pickled pork, smoked fish, braised dried beancurd and scrambled eggs. The leader of the party ordered that the ham and wind-dried chicken they had brought with them be served as well. One man said, “Back in Yunnan we always heard that Jiangnan was a fine place, where they wore silks and brocades and ate the delicacies of mountain and sea. But I tell you, as for food alone, it scarcely compares with Kunming.”

Another replied, “You’ve grown accustomed to enjoying yourself in the Prince Who Pacifies the West’s mansion, brother. What you eat and drink there is naturally quite different. It’s not that Jiangnan cannot match Yunnan, you must understand, there are few places in this world that can match the Prince Who Pacifies the West’s mansion.”

The others assented enthusiastically.

Mao Shibai’s face changed. These dogs must be underlings of that great traitor Wu Sangui, he thought.

A man with a sallow face asked, “Lord Huang, on this trip to the capital, will you be granted an audience with the Emperor?”

A plump, fair man replied, “By rank, I should not normally see the Emperor, but relying on our Prince’s favour, I may well be granted an audience. The great ministers at court always look with special favour on officials of our ‘Western Selection’.”

“Of course,” said another. “In this world, next to the Emperor himself, our Prince is the greatest.”

Mao Shibai called out loudly, “Wei Xiaobao, do you know who the most shameless person in the world is?”

Wei Xiaobao said, “Naturally I do. It’s the son of a turtle, the bastard!” He did not in fact know. The answer was no answer at all.

Mao Shibai struck the table heavily. “Exactly! And who is this son of a turtle, this bastard?”

Wei Xiaobao said, “Your mother’s! This son of a turtle, this bastard, your mother’s, is no good thing.” He too struck the table heavily.

Mao Shibai said, “Let me teach you something. This son of a turtle, this bastard, is a great traitor who acknowledges a thief as his father. He handed our splendid rivers and mountains, our flowery world, over with both hands to the barbarians…”

As he spoke, the dozen or more officials stared at him, some already flush with anger.

Mao Shibai continued, “This great traitor’s surname is Wu. One turtle is Wu Yi Gui, two turtles are Wu Er Gui…and three turtles?”

Wei Xiaobao shouted, “Wu San Gui!”

Mao Shibai roared with laughter. “Precisely Wu Sangui, that great…”

Suddenly, the clang of metal rang out as seven or eight men drew weapons and charged towards Mao Shibai. Wei Xiaobao hastily ducked beneath the table. The clash of steel rang continuously. Mao Shibai, wielding a single dao, was already locked in combat. Wei Xiaobao saw that he remained seated on the bench, and knew his thigh wound made it difficult to move, and his heart was filled with anxiety.

After a moment, a dao rang out as it fell to the ground, followed by a long cry of agony as a man stumbled backwards. But there were too many opponents. Wei Xiaobao watched the legs moving around the table: some in cloth shoes, some in leather boots, all enemies. Mao Shibai wore straw sandals.

Mao Shibai fought and cursed, “Wu Sangui is a great traitor! You little traitors, I’ll kill every last one of you…aiyou!” He cried out, having evidently been wounded. A man fell backwards, blood welling from his chest.

Wei Xiaobao reached out and seized a dao that had fallen to the ground. He aimed at a foot in a cloth shoe and brought the blade down hard on the instep. With a crunch, half the foot was severed. The man screamed and collapsed backwards.

Beneath the table all was dark, and the combatants were tangled together. No one knew what had injured the man, assuming it was Mao Shibai. Wei Xiaobao, seeing his trick so successful, raised the dao again and severed another man’s foot.

This man did not fall at once, but in his agony cried, “Under the table… under…” and bent to look, only to receive a blow from Mao Shibai’s dao on the back of his head, which rendered him senseless. At that moment, Wei Xiaobao hacked at another man’s lower leg.

The man cried out, and with his left hand overturned the table, sending bowls, chopsticks, soup and noodles flying. He immediately raised his dao and struck at Wei Xiaobao’s head. Mao Shibai deflected the blow, and Wei Xiaobao scrambled and rolled free from the tangle of bodies. The man whose leg had been severed, enraged, pursued him with his dao.

Wei Xiaobao bellowed, “La kuai mama!” and dived beneath another table.

The man shouted, “Little imp, come out!”

Wei Xiaobao replied, “Old imp, you come in!”