The Skin Map

CHAPTER 24
In Which an Understanding Is Reached

The air was still, the heat of the day abating as the sun drifted westward. The Mirror Sea was living up to its name, its surface as smooth as molten glass, reflecting a pale, cloud-dappled heaven. Arthur Flinders-Petrie gazed absently at the splendid prospect of the harbour and the crescent sweep of the bay spreading out below him; his thoughts were troubled and his heart heavy. The last weeks of convalescence, spent largely in the company of Wu Chen Hu’s spirited daughter, Xian-Li, had revived him in many more ways than one.

Now it was time to go.

Had the choice been his alone, he might have tarried indefinitely. But the trading season was ending, and by decree of the Chinese authorities all foreigners must leave the country-the same as every year; nothing had changed in that respect. All ships would be sailing within the next few days. Ordinarily, he would be glad to return to England as fast as the winds could carry him; but this year Arthur discovered he had a reason to stay.

“I will miss you, Xian-Li,” he said, a note of longing rising in his voice.

“And I will miss you, my friend,” she replied, touching his arm shyly. She smiled. “But you will come back one day.”

“I will-and soon,” he told her. “I promise.”

“And until then, I have these beautiful shoes to remind me of your visit.” She smiled and lifted her hem and pointed the toes of her delicate, unbound feet so that he could see the glistening blue silk of her pearl-beaded slippers. “Thank you.”

“It is I who stand in your debt, Xian-Li,” said Arthur, regarding the slender, dark-haired young woman beside him: how her red gown shimmered, how her black hair shone. “Alas, it is a debt I can never fully repay.”

“Do not talk of debt and repayment,” she chided lightly. “What I did, I did for the honour of my family, and-” She halted, dropping her head demurely.

“And?” Arthur asked, feeling her hesitancy.

“And for the sake of your friendship with my father.”

“Only that?” A surge of emotion welled up inside him then. Time grew short; he could not leave without knowing. “Is there nothing else?”

Xian-Li did not look up. Arthur gazed upon her bowed head, her long black hair falling in a curtain. He could not see her face to know what she might have been thinking or feeling at that moment. “Please, Arthur,” she said at last. “There can be nothing more. Do not ask it of me.”

“But I do ask, Xian-Li,” he said. “I ask because in the short time we have had together, I have grown to love you very much.”

“You will always be my dear friend, Arthur,” she replied, her gaze still lowered. “Always.”

“Yet, I would be more,” he said. Then, casting his customary diffidence to the four winds, he added, “Marry me, Xian-Li. Become my wife.”

She glanced up quickly, her expression stricken. “Arthur, no… please, no. It cannot be.”

“Why not?” he said, emboldened now that he had spoken his inmost heart. “What is to prevent us?”

Her face clouded with unhappiness. “Must you make me say it?”

“I love you, Xian-Li. Marry me. We can be together always.” He reached for her hand. “I need you, my love. I cannot foresee a life without you.”

She shook her head gently. “I am Chinese. You are English. It is forbidden,” she said, but she did not pull her hand away.

“There is no power on earth to keep us apart if we do not wish it,” he assured her.

He saw the love and hope kindle in her great dark luminous eyes, and pressed for an answer. “Come, Xian-Li. You know I speak the truth. We can be happy together, you and I.”

She seemed to tremble on the edge of assent, but could not make the leap. “They will never allow it,” she said, dropping her head once more.

“Then we will go somewhere else-a place where no one will mind our differences.”

She shook her head, tears falling to the floor. “You do not understand, Arthur. I cannot leave China. They will never allow it. I would be stopped at the harbour before I could ever set foot on your ship. They would punish both of us-me most severely.”

“Xian-Li,” he said softly. “All obstacles can be overcome, if you will it. Come, give me your answer. Will you marry me?”

Without looking at him, she clasped his hand again. “I cannot,” she said, her voice breaking into a sob. “It is forbidden.”

She gave his hand a last squeeze and then turned and started away. He watched her go, certain now as never before that more than anything in the world, this-this union-was what he wanted. It will happen, he thought to himself. I will it.

He let her go, remaining on the promontory above the bay to think and watch the sun go down. One by one the evening stars appeared as tiny lights in the sky, but Arthur did not stir. Later, when his feet turned back toward White Lotus Street, it was with a resolute and determined step.

He entered the house and quickly ascertained that Chen Hu was napping in the rear garden, which was just how he wanted it. He found Xian-Li in the tiny kitchen at the rear of the house and joined her there. She gave him a forlorn smile as he entered the room. “My love, I-”

“Shh!” She raised her hand and placed her fingers to his lips. “We must not speak of it again.”

Taking her hand, he kissed her fingertips, then removed the round iron wok from the fire and led her from the room. “Come, I want to show you something.”

In the room where Chen Hu performed his artistry, he sat Xian-Li on the tattoo couch and took his place before her. “Look here,” he said. Unlacing his shirt, he drew it over his head and tossed it aside. He put a hand to his chest and lightly brushed the intricate deep blue designs there. “These tattaus which your father has made for me these past few years are not mere fancies-meaningless scribbles as many believe. They are symbols of my own devising, and each one bears a fantastic secret, an incredible secret.”

Xian-Li, all attention, sat with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap.

“My love,” continued Arthur, his voice low but earnest, “I am going to tell you something I have never told another living soul. I am going to share with you the secret of the symbols.”

“Arthur, no,” she protested. “It is not necessary.”

“But it is,” he countered, “very necessary-because, you see, I have a way to travel the world without ships or any other man-made conveyance. Each of these tattaus”-he touched one of the indigo symbols-“represents a different place I have travelled.” He paused and waited to see how she would receive this next revelation. “Xian-Li, I am not a businessman as you suppose. I am an adventurer and an explorer.”

Xian-Li bit her lip, but said nothing.

“Listen carefully,” he said, dropping his voice still further. “The places to which I go are not of this world.”

“Arthur, no…”

“It is true,” he insisted. “Difficult as it may be to believe, it is true. The universe is not only greater than we imagine, it is far stranger. There are dimensions unknown and unguessed by the mass of mankind, and I have discovered a way to travel through them to worlds beyond our own. Each place I have visited is on a different plane of existence.” He touched another tattoo. “These marks represent my travels. They are the record of not only where to find the alien world, but how to get there. They are a map written on my skin so that it can never be lost, never taken from me. It is written here so that wherever I am, however far across the universe, I can always find my way home.”

Xian-Li stared at him.

“Come with me, my love. I will show you wonders you never dreamed possible. There are endless new worlds to explore. We will explore them together, you and I. Say yes and let us make a start.”

He reached for her, and she stood and took one tentative step nearer. She stretched her hand toward his bare torso, fingers shaking slightly, and delicately traced one of the blue marks and then another.

“I ask again, and I will keep on asking,” he said, folding her hand into his own, “will you marry me?”

“It was impossible before,” she began, hesitantly. “It is even more impossible now. I know nothing of this life of which you speak.”

“You will learn. I will teach you.” He smiled. “It will be the most glorious adventure ever known. I do not ask you to believe me, Xian-Li. All I ask right now is that you trust me. Can you do that, my love? Can you trust me?”

She looked at him a long time, then nodded.

“Good. Marry me and let us make a beginning.”

She wavered before the force of his insistence, then pulled away. “I must think, Arthur,” she said. “Please, I need a little time.”

“If it were mine to give, I would give you all the time you needed,” he told her gently. “But we have only tomorrow, and then I must depart.”

“Tomorrow will be time enough,” she said.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he allowed. He retrieved his shirt and pulled it on, did up the laces and tucked it into his breeches while Xian-Li padded away to the kitchen to resume her preparation of the meal. Wanting to allow her time to herself, Arthur went out to the back garden to join Wu Chen Hu, who was now awake.

The elder man smiled when he saw his friend, and he poured another cup of rice wine from the small jar in his hand. “It is good to see you looking strong again,” he said, handing him the cup.

“Thanks to you, Chen Hu, and your daughter, I am hale and healthy once more.” He raised the cup and saluted his host, taking a sip and passing back the cup. He sat down and leaned against the smooth trunk of the plum tree.

“And soon you must leave us.”

“Yes, tomorrow-otherwise the Gongbu will throw me into prison.”

“Those fellows can be very unforgiving,” sympathized Chen Hu. “Perhaps next season you will return for another tattau.”

“For a certainty, I will,” vowed Arthur. “I feel in many ways that my travels have only begun. I have many more places to visit”-he smiled and patted himself on the chest-“and many empty spaces to fill with tattaus. Yes, I will come back.”

“That is good to hear.” The older man sipped some wine and returned the cup to his guest. “I have another daughter, you know.”

“I did not know that.”

“Yes.” Chen Hu nodded slowly. “She lives in Zhaoqin-two days from here. She lives with her husband and two little boys. But a few days ago I received word from a friend who was in Zhaoqin that her husband is being sent to Macau-he is an official on the Libu, and he goes where they tell him to go. He has been given a promotion and increased pay.”

“Good for him,” mused Arthur, “and good for your daughter.”

“And good for Chen Hu too. I will have someone nearby to help look after me, so Xian-Li’s burden will be eased greatly.”

“I had not thought of that,” replied Arthur, wondering why his old friend had introduced this line of conversation. Were his feelings for the old man’s daughter so obvious, so transparent?

Wu Chen Hu, a little tipsy with the strong, sour wine, leaned forward unsteadily. “To speak truth,” he confided, “Hana-Li is a better cook than Xian-Li.” He grinned raffishly. “I am sorry, my friend, but it is true. You should know this, I think.”

“And you should know, Chen Hu,” he said, “that I worship your daughter. She is light and life to me. I do not care what kind of cook she might be.”

“You will!” chuckled the old man. “You will!”

And the thing was done. An understanding had been reached between the two men, and nothing more was said or needed to be said. All that remained was Xian-Li’s assent.

He still faced the difficulty of smuggling the young woman out of the country, but that, he considered, could be overcome one way or another. Where there was a will, there was a way: no one believed that more fiercely, more ardently than did Arthur Flinders-Petrie, who had greater validation for this belief than anyone might reasonably expect.

Later, after the three of them had shared the evening meal and walked a little in the night market, viewing the stalls of the merchants and artisans-looking for a few trinkets Arthur might take home to his young nephew and niece back in England-they said good night and went to their respective rooms. Arthur was sitting on the edge of his pallet, removing his shoes, when the door opened silently and Xian-Li entered. She took but two steps into the room.

One glance at the expression on her face and he put his shoes aside and stood, waiting for her to speak.

“My father told me about my sister returning to Macau,” she said. “He has set me free to follow my own heart.”

“Where does your heart lead you?”

“It would bring me happiness to marry you, Arthur,” she said.

He crossed the room in three strides and gathered her into his arms. “My darling,” he sighed. “There is so much I would show you, share with you. We will make a fine life together.” He bent his head and kissed her; she returned his kiss fully and freely. He held her close and felt her strong hands on his back and neck as she strained against him. “We will be happy, my love,” he whispered, kissing her again. “We will be happy.”