The First Excellence: Fa-Ling's Map (25 page)

“
Can we trust this ‘Cheng’?” Long asked.

Yong-qi met the old man’s gaze directly.

“
I have always trusted Cheng,” he said.

Jiu Kaiyu tapped his knee in frustration. He glanced at Ng-zhi, who stared stoically into the darkness at the front gate of the American Consulate building. They had been staking out the building for hours, taking turns jogging up the street to use the facilities at the Lucky Monkey restaurant. The floor of the car was littered with takeout boxes. Ng-zhi was a difficult man to keep adequately fed.

“
Let’s go,” Kaiyu said.

Ng-zhi turned the key in the ignition. It was obvious they were wasting their time. There had been no sign of Randy Chan. Either he had slipped out of the city, or he was still here, maybe even in this very neighbourhood. Either way, unless they got a call saying Chan had showed up at the Consulate, or unless he turned his cell phone back on, Kaiyu and Ng-zhi were out of luck.

Only a fool goes looking for a single grain of rice at a New Year’s feast.

**

Inside their room at the Golden Lion Hotel, Ting-lo and Adrian Harlan lay together on one of two single beds, their bodies curled in a familiar spooning position. She had finally run out of tears and shivered, not speaking, not resting, just staring into the darkness.

Ting-lo remained a Buddhist in her heart. She understood the ways of karma. She didn’t know what she could do to alter Anna’s fate.

When she finally drifted off, Adrian continued to fret in the darkness, afraid to move in case his wife should wake and find herself once again in the throes of their new reality.

**

Fa-ling paced, uncertain what she should be doing. She put her shoes on, took them off again, sat on the edge of her bed, fingered her sheet music, and finally lay down fully clothed, trying to call up music in her mind to carry her back to those dreamy clouds. The music, however, would not cooperate. Instead it jangled and clashed and finally morphed into a cacophony of shrill voices that emptied out of angry faces in an unstoppable rush.

Xiao!
It was always Xiao, behind every worry, every weakness and self-doubt. There he was, an evil and ugly presence lurking within her moments of joy and achievement, waiting to remind her who she really was.

She finally fell asleep briefly, but again he came to her, the monster Xiao, running down the filthy streets of her mind and clutching the baby Anna in his arms, laughing all the while through yellow-brown teeth. Then the baby was no longer Anna, but transformed into Fa-ling’s own sister Daphne, Fa-dao, the one who had abandoned her ‘true path’ and stepped instead onto another roadway that was less narrow and far less certain.

Fa-ling woke, reaching for her copy of
Crime And Punishment
. She knew sleep was, for this night at least, beyond her grasp.

The night passed slowly for all of the couples. The Kitcheners woke every half hour to check on their own babies. The Gollucks stayed awake talking in animated whispers about parenting issues of immediate concern, like ‘street-proofing’ and ‘self-defence’ and other such futile attempts to keep a child safe.

Back in her own room, Cynthia clicked the TV remote control, flicking through the Peking Operas, but her mind would not relax. It kept pulling her back to the steaming hospital laundry room where she had spent so many back-breaking hours stirring the foul bed sheets of others as she practiced her English over and over:
Here we have the Great Wall of China, and here, folks, is the Heavenly Temple. Follow me please, and stay together…

Meanwhile, Paula and Guy Kader lay with their backs to each other on their single beds, together but alone as they so often were. Guy got up frequently to check on Mei Mei, but Paula lay with her eyes firmly closed, though Guy could tell she was not asleep.

**

It was near three in the morning when Wu Gui-Jing’s spirit left her body and floated onto another plane, there to wait for transference into yet another body and existence that would be filled with both suffering and enlightenment.

Wang Yong-qi had fallen asleep at her side, his hand in hers and his head resting on his arm. She died with a smile on her face, certain her husband was there to guide her and comfort her passing.

Master Long heard Gui-Jing’s death rattle and rose from the corner of the room, where he had been keeping his vigil as both physician and spiritual counsel throughout the night. He touched Wang’s shoulder and the younger man lifted his head, dream-confused depths of sorrow still clouding his eyes.

They woke the others: Cheng, who was snoring loudly on a mat in the kitchen; Randy, who slept fitfully on another mat; and finally Shopei, who had been given Master Long’s own room for the night.

With the exception of Cheng, who still wore the rumpled outfit from the previous night, they all dressed quickly in their silk mourning clothes and joined Gui-Jing’s body behind the curtain. Shopei helped Long to wrap the body in fine blue silk, to ensure joy and comfort in her next life. They lit candles and joined hands briefly in silence. Then Master Long led the Ceremony of Passing, praying not only for Wu Gui-Jing, but also for the spirits of the departed Tan family, Dahui, Lim and Shopei’s beloved mother Sui.

Then Cheng, Yong-qi and Randy gathered up the shovels from Long’s tool shed. Before the rising of that day’s sun they had dug an appropriate hole in his garden as far as possible from his vegetables and they had laid Wu Gui-Jing’s shattered body to its rest.

Wang Yong-qi watched Shopei move around Long’s kitchen, preparing tea and breakfast for the men. Her sorrow was a well that lay still and deep, not visible at the surface.

He thought of Fa-ling, with her sexy sleep-mussed hair and her unevenly buttoned man’s shirt. Who, he wondered, did the shirt belong to, and why did the thought make him feel so jealous? He wanted desperately to call and tell her about the events of the past night, but he knew to do so would presume an intimacy that did not exist between them.

At five a.m. the phone rang on the stand beside Cynthia’s bed. She shook her head, certain the sound was a prelude to more bad news.

“
Hello,” she said.

“
Hello, Cynthia, it’s me, Henry.”

“
Good morning, Heng-ri. Is there any news?”

“
There is. It’s good news. You had better wake the Harlans and bring them down to the desk.”

Cynthia sprang from her bed. In less than a minute she had dressed and combed her hair. She hurried to the fourth floor and found the Harlan’s room. She paused for a moment, a sudden unsettling sense of doubt filling her mind. Could Heng-ri be trusted? What if he had made a mistake? She should have gone to the lobby first, to see for herself.

She knocked.

There was no answer from within, but the door opened and Adrian looked at her through rheumy, sleep-deprived eyes.

“
Is your wife awake?”

“
No.”

“
What is it, Adrian?” Ting-lo’s voice called out.

“
I guess we’re both awake,” Adrian said, stepping aside to let Cynthia enter.

“
I’ll wait in the hall,” the guide said. “You should both dress quickly. I received a call from the concierge. Anna has been recovered.”

Ting-lo gasped, rushing to the door.

“
Are you certain?” she asked.

“
Yes,” Cynthia replied, suppressing her earlier anxiety. “Please dress and come with me.”

“
She was found by one of the night-men,” Henry explained when they joined him in the lobby. “She had been left to wander near one of the back entrances. He discovered her crying in the darkness and brought her to me immediately.” The concierge stood straight, puffing his chest out with pride.

“
You have done well,” Cynthia said, nodding at Henry.

Ting-lo clutched Anna as if she would never let her go again. She fingered the tiny bracelet she had placed on the child’s wrist and studied her large sculpted eyes with relief, ridding herself of any doubt this really was her daughter.

“
Where is the man who found her?” Adrian asked, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “We would like to thank him.”

“
He has already left the hotel,” Henry said. “He was just finishing his shift when he found her.”

“
Please give this to him and tell him we will look for him tonight.” He passed the equivalent of more than two hundred US dollars to Henry, hoping a small portion of the money would find its way into the pocket of the man who had discovered their daughter.

“
You need some quiet time together,” Cynthia said, taking Ting-lo by the elbow. “Our group is scheduled to visit the Yiling Caves. Perhaps you three should spend the day in your room. I’m sure the others would understand.”

“
No,” Ting-lo said. “Please, Adrian. We have Anna back. Let’s just try to begin our lives as normal parents.”

“
Very well,” said Cynthia, “the bus will leave at eight-thirty. I will meet all three of you in the lobby at eight-fifteen.”

To Heng-ri she said in Cantonese, “Did you already call the police?”

“
Yes,” he said. “I told them all was resolved, and Baby Anna Harlan had been brought back to her parents at the hotel. They have noted her successful recovery in their records.”

“
No doubt they will be given full credit as heroes in recognition of their tremendous efforts,” Cynthia said.

“
No doubt,” Heng-ri smiled. His cousin’s sense of irony was always a treat.

Cynthia did not wait, but immediately woke each of the couples to announce Baby Anna had been safely reunited with her family. She knew no one was sleeping soundly anyway, so she might as well do what she could to alleviate their worry.

She debated with herself whether or not to knock on Li Fa-ling’s door. The young woman was not really part of the group. Still, she had done her best to stop the kidnappers and she had bravely spoken with the police. She deserved to have her mind put at ease.

Fa-ling was awake when Cynthia knocked on her door. The guide wasted no time in sharing the good news about Anna.

“
Come in,” Fa-ling said. “Let me make some tea.”

“
Thank you. Will you join us for the tour of the Yiling Caves this morning?”

“
You’ve hardly slept. Will you be up to it?”

“
I can rest on the bus along with the families. Ting-lo Harlan has specifically asked that we get back to the proper routine. It will help to calm her mind.”

“
I’m glad she and Adrian are determined to put this trouble behind them,” Fa-ling said. “Unfortunately, I plan to travel to Guilin today. In fact, I was going to ask you to recommend a driver.”

“
That will take hours and cost a great deal. Are you sure you want to make such a long trip?”

“
Yes,” Fa-ling said.

“
Henry will be able to recommend a trustworthy driver. He knows Nanning much better than I do. May I ask why you want to travel to Guilin?”

Fa-ling paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer. “I have heard,” she said, “it is a beautiful city.”

“
So it is,” Cynthia agreed.

“
The restaurant will be opening soon,” Fa-ling said. “Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

“
No, thank you,” Cynthia said. “I’ll eat something in my room and try to relax until it’s time to join the others. First, let’s go downstairs and talk to Henry.”

**

The dawn spread a hazy ochre hue over Shanghai, prodding the restless city into a feverish wakefulness. Wang Yong-qi and Cheng said goodbye to their new friends and headed for the city’s domestic airport. On the noisy flight back to Nanning, Yong-qi tried to doze with his head against the porthole window. Sleep was the only relief to be had from his anxiety.

For his part, Cheng had recognised in the dying woman all that was wrong with his world: the persecution of the weak and the elderly, the poverty that could not be overcome by effort alone, the secrets at every level of the Republic’s administration. Gui-Jing’s death reminded Cheng that his elderly mother was also at risk, her stubborn faith exposing her to public humiliation, possible arrest and imprisonment.

The thought was unbearable, provoking within Cheng an enormous sense of outrage. If he could not find a way to protect his own mother…

The flight finally arrived in Nanning, where Yong-qi retrieved his car from the airport parking lot. The two men were silent on the drive to Cheng’s apartment. As Wang watched the older man disappear into his building, he held a mental argument with himself as to what his next course of action should be.

At last he came to a conclusion. He drove home, showered, shaved and chose fresh clothes to wear, then made his way back to the Golden Lion Hotel.

The driver spoke English well, as Henry had promised, but Fa-ling’s Cantonese was better so they communicated in Chinese instead. The roads were challenging, dragging them through mud and dust and grime into the heart of rural Asia.

Fa-ling stared at the passing landscape. It was speckled here and there with farmers leading oxen over rich fields, beating back the relentless jungle foliage to plant edible crops of grain. The mountainous horizon teased the eyes with green-covered outcroppings shooting from the ground like enormous stalagmites. As the karst limestone formations took on increasingly stunning appearances, Fa-ling found herself spiralling further back into the tunnel of time, unable to resist the call of the past.