The Willow Pattern

VI

Standing stiffly erect, she haughtily surveyed the tap­room with large, flashing eyes. She was rather poorly dressed: a dark-green jacket of faded brocade on top of a pleated skirt of worn black silk. The jacket was hanging open in front, displaying the upper half of her generous bosom over the tight black bodice. Her finely-chiselled oval face was very pale, setting off her full red lips, slightly parted. Her glossy black hair was combed back carelessly from her forehead, and gathered in a knot at the nape of her neck.

Ma Joong stared at her, spellbound. He thought he had never seen such a beautiful girl. And despite her poor dress, she had a nearly regal air. Observing her slender waist and rounded hips, he suddenly realized that he was doing so without mentally undressing her, as was his wont. She aroused in him a strange mixture of attraction and respect he had never experienced before. 'I must be getting really old!’ he told himself, annoyed.

The small monkey was making a curious, whining sound.

'Quiet!' the puppeteer rasped. His voice had lost the rich timbre of the professional showman.

Her scrutiny completed, the girl went straight to the counter with a purposeful stride, the silk skirt swishing round her long legs. She took the wine-jug and let it rattle on the wood. The hunchback appeared. After one glance at her his wizened, surly face lit up. With a pleased smile he filled a cup. She emptied it in one long gulp, then held it up to be refilled.

'The wench can drink!’ Ma Joong remarked with a happy grin to his companion, without taking his eyes off her. She had apparently noticed his stare, for now she turned round and looked him up and down insolently. He would have got up to start a conversation with this enchanting creature, but there was something about her that warned him to watch his step. She creased her long, curved eye­brows, tossed her head back, then turned to the hunch­back again and said something to him. He grinned and took from under the counter a platter with salted vegetables. She picked up a pair of chopsticks and began to eat with gusto.

Ma Joong watched her for a while with undisguised delight. At last he asked his neighbour: 'Do you know her?'

The puppeteer twisted the end of his ragged grey mous­tache. 'Not as well as I'd like to,' he replied.

Ma Joong was about to make a jocular remark about old goats when suddenly raucous voices sounded in the street outside. The door burst open, and four ruffians came in.

'Four bowls of——' the one in front began. He halted, and stared at the girl, fingering his greasy ringbeard. He was so engrossed in her that he did not notice Ma Joong and the puppeteer, at the other end of the taproom. A lopsided grin curled his cruel mouth. 'Yes, we'll have four large bowls of strong wine!' he barked at the others. And then this fine strapping wench! Come on, brothers!'

They crowded round the girl. The bearded man laid his hairy hand on her arm. 'You are damned lucky tonight!' he said, leering at her. 'You'll have four lovers, dearie. Four good men!’

She put her cup down on the counter. Looking at the hand on her left arm, she said quietly:

'Take that dirty paw off me.'

The four men guffawed.

'Let's first beat her up a bit,' a burly fellow shouted. 'That'll make the meat tender!'

Ma Joong jumped up. He'd show those bastards! But the puppeteer's foot shot out, neatly tripping him up. Ma Joong fell on his face between two tables, crushing a chair. His helmet came off, and when he wanted to get to his feet he hit his head hard against a corner of the table. He went down again, and remained sitting on the floor one brief moment, half dazed. He heard a man yell, 'My arm ... The bloody witch!’ There followed a stream of foul curses. The door was slammed shut with a crash that made the plaster come down from the rafters. Then complete silence.

Ma Joong quickly scrambled up. He could hardly believe his eyes. The four ruffians had left, and the girl was stand­ing at the counter, as before. She held up her cup, and the hunchback hastily refilled it from the jug. Ma Joong noticed that the end of her right sleeve showed a large red stain.

He retrieved his helmet, looked down at the puppeteer and growled:

'She's wounded! That was a damned dirty trick, my friend. If you were younger, I ...'

'Sit down!’ the other said calmly. 'It was for your own good, you know. One should never mix in a fight when one of the parties has loaded sleeves. You might get hurt, hurt badly, colonel.'

Ma Joong sat down again, dumbfounded.

'She let them off lightly,' Yuan resumed. 'Only broke the arm of the bearded fellow. They took to their heels before she really went for them.'

Ma Joong pensively felt the bump on his forehead. He knew about loaded sleeves. Women of the underworld sometimes carry an iron ball of about the size of a large egg in the tip of each sleeve. Since the law forbids ordinary citizens to carry daggers or other cutting weapons on their person, on the penalty of a flogging, those women have developed a special art of fighting with loaded sleeves. They gather the upper part of the sleeve in their hand, and thus they have in each a formidable bludgeon. Through long practice they are able to hit all the vital spots of an opponent with unerring accuracy. They break a man's arms or shoulders, or, if they really mean business, kill him by crushing his temple or his neck.

A GIRL ASSAULTED BY FOUR RUFFIANS

You might have told me instead of tripping me up,' he muttered angrily.

'You were in an awful hurry to rush to the rescue, colonel!’ the puppeteer said dryly.

The girl had taken an iron ball from her right sleeve, and put it on the counter. Now she was trying to wash the blood-stained sleeve in the basin of dishwater. The hunchback had disappeared again.

Ma Joong got up and sauntered to the counter.

'Let me help you,' he said gruffly.

She gave him a quick look, shrugged, and held out her arm for him. While rinsing the tip of the sleeve he was going to say that taking off the jacket would make things easier. But something in her cool stare made him hold the proposal back. She was unusually tall for a young girl, her face came up to his chin. Her hair was done up in an untidy fashion, but there was a mass of it, and so glossy that it seemed to be moist. He now noticed also that she wore nothing but jacket, bodice and skirt. The whiteness of her round breasts shimmered through the worn black silk.

'Thank you,' she said when he had wrung the sleeve dry. She remained standing where she was, close by him. He felt a strong desire to fold her in his arms, but realized that this was a woman accustomed to associate freely with men, on an equal footing. Watching her take up the iron ball and put it in her sleeve, he remarked:

'You certainly made short work of those scoundrels. And with only one loaded sleeve too!’ Pointing at her left sleeve, which was empty, he added: 'I thought one always carried those weights in both sleeves.'

She darted him a quick look from her flashing eyes.

'I find one quite sufficient,' she said coldly.

Ma Joong was so absorbed in her that he didn't hear the door open. Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. The girl turned round. A gruff voice addressed her:

'There was no need to flee, miss. You should've stayed, and lodged a complaint against that doctor.'

As Chiao Tai rapped his knuckles on the counter, Ma Joong stared at his friend in utter astonishment.

'Happened to hear her scream, brother,' Chiao Tai ex­plained. 'In the street just below our boss's office. A fellow called Lew was bothering her. A doctor at that!’ Seeing the hunchback, who had resumed his place behind the counter, he ordered a cup, then asked the girl: 'What about a drink for you, miss?'

'No thank you,' she said. And to the hunchback: 'Chalk mine up, will you?'

She pulled her jacket close, briefly nodded to them and went to the door with that same, quick stride.

'Where did you meet her?' It was the puppeteer. He had come up to them, and was fixing Chiao Tai with a worried look. As Chiao Tai surveyed him with raised eyebrows, Yuan asked quickly: 'What was that about Doctor Lew?'

'He's all right,' Ma Joong told his friend curtly. 'A travel­ling showman.'

'I met her in the street below the Governor's palace,' Chiao Tai told the puppeteer. 'She was singing a song while playing her guitar. Doctor Lew was bothering her, but she scurried away after I had arrived on the scene.'

The puppeteer muttered something. He made a stiff bow, then went hastily back to his corner. He put the legs of the peepshow over his shoulder, and the small monkey at once seated itself on its top. Yuan picked up his bamboo basket, and hurriedly went out into the street.

'That being settled,' Chiao Tai said, 'we'd better have strictly one good bowl of wine, and then be off. There's a lot of work downtown, brother. We'll have to inspect those damned sewers there.'

Ma Joong nodded absentmindedly. He watched the hunch­back as he refilled his wine-bowl, then asked in a casual manner: 'Who is she?'

'Don't you know? That's Yuan's daughter, Bluewhite.'

'I'll be damned! She being the old man's daughter, why did she ignore him?'

The other shrugged.

'Probably had a tiff, at home. She's quite a strong-minded girl, you know. A real hell-cat when she gets angry. She's a fine acrobat, though. Performs on the street corners down town, together with her father. She has a twin sister, called Coral. That's a sweet child if ever there was one! Coral sings and dances, and she can play the guitar.'

'It was Coral you met, brother,' Ma Joong told Chiao Tai.

'What if it was? The drinks are on me. What do I owe you, fellow?'

'Any idea where they live?' Ma Joong asked while Chiao Tai was settling the bill.

The hunchback darted a shrewd look at him.

'Now here, then there. Where their business takes them.'

'Come along!’ Chiao Tai said impatiently.

'When they were outside, Chiao Tai looked up at the dark sky.

'Not a breath of wind!' he remarked, disgusted.

'Downtown it'll be hotter still,' Ma Joong said. 'Any news, up in the office?'

'Only bad news. Number of deaths is still going up. Lew the Leech was there, told the story of old Mei's accident. Mei was a splendid old fellow. Lew is a dirty son of a dog.'

A cart came round the corner, drawn by six hooded men in black cloaks. The front of the hoods which covered their faces completely was provided with two slits for the eyes. The cart was piled with formless shapes, wrapped in canvas sheets. Ma Joong and Chiao Tai quickly pulled their neck­cloths up over their mouths and noses. When the creaking cart had passed, Chiao Tai said in a worried voice:

'Our judge should've left, together with the Cabinet. It's too damned unhealthy here for a fine fellow like him!’

'You go and tell him!’ Ma Joong said dryly. They walked down the deserted street in silence.

They followed the main thoroughfare along the broad canal that crossed the city from east to west. Soon the monumental Halfmoon Bridge came into sight. Its three arches spanned the canal in a graceful curve that had given its name to the bridge. The weatherbeaten bricks had with­stood the ravages of time and war for more than three centuries. In normal times the Halfmoon Bridge was con­gested with traffic, day and night, but now it was completely deserted.

About to ascend the bridge, Ma Joong suddenly halted in his steps. Laying his hand on his friend's arm, he declared ponderously:

'I am going to marry the wench, brother Chiao!’

'I wish you'd think up a new trick, some day,' Chiao Tai said in a tired voice.

'This time it's different,' his friend assured him.

'That statement also has a familiar ring. Do you mean that bit of skirt in the tavern, by the way? She's much too young, brother! Sixteen or seventeen, at most. You'll have to teach her everything, from scratch. Build it up, so to speak, bit by bit. You aren't a schoolmaster, are you now? Better take a mature woman, my friend, one who knows what's what! Saves you no end of time and trouble. Hey there, what are you running away from?'

Chiao Tai stuck out his long arm and grabbed the collar of the youngster who came running down the curved bridge. He wore a blue jacket and trousers; his closely cropped head was bare.

'The marquis is dead! Murdered!’ the boy gasped. 'Let me go. I must run to the tribunal, call the constables... .'

'Who's the marquis?' Ma Joong asked. 'And who the hell are you?'

'I am the doorman, sir. Of the Yee mansion. My mother found him up in the gallery. She's Madame Yee's maid, and they are all alone there now.'

'Do you mean that fortress-like mansion, over there on the other side of the canal?' Chiao Tai asked. And when the boy nodded emphatically, he asked again: 'Know who did it?'

'No sir! I can't understand how it happened, for the master was all alone tonight. I must go to the tribunal and------'

'Tribunal nothing,' Chiao Tai cut him short. 'The Lord Chief Justice takes care of murders and so on, at present.' Turning to Ma Joong, he told him: 'You go and tell the boss, brother. I just came from there. He is up on the terrace with Tao Gan. I'll go with this youngster to the Yee place and have a look around.' He stared moodily at the black bulk of the mansion across the water and added: 'Yee dead, by Heaven!’

'What's eating you?' Ma Joong asked gruffly. 'You didn't know the old geezer, did you?'

'No. But you have heard that jingle, haven't you? One two three, Mei Hoo Yee, and so on? Now only Hoo is left. The leaders of the "old world" are disappearing. And fast too!'