A Cruel Romance

Ho Mansion, Peking.

A gatekeeper leaned on a broomstick outside the front gates, his shoulders hunched in the cold. He adjusted his winter hat with a hand and set to work sweeping the firecracker shreds on the concrete ground. The shreds have formed a thick, downy layer underfoot, looking like a red carpet from a distance. During the previous evening, the sounds of firecrackers erupted in the streets before dusk had fallen on New Year’s Eve, and by midnight, the smoky scent of gunpowder filled the air as joyousness raptured with each crisp pop of explosion. These explosions went on in a continuous chorus of sounds, sending out waves after waves of revelry.

For a while the gatekeeper swept the floor diligently and cleared out a small area in front of the gates. He was sweating profusely, his hat barely on. Just as he was about to straighten up and catch his breath, he heard the blare of a car horn coursing down the street.

The gatekeeper looked over and wondered if it was somebody paying their New Year visits. But wasn’t it a bit too early for that? Unless they were going out of town.

While he was mulling over the thought idly, the car made its way over and slowed to a stop. Both of its doors swung open and three travel-worn men stepped out.

A tall man was in the lead. In the freezing weather, he only wore a black wool coat, a bowler hat sitting above ears that were frozen haw-jelly red in the cold. The two men behind him were dressed similarly, their ears the same shade of red.

The tall man paused and gave the Ho Mansion gates a once over, then pushed them open and walked in. The other men trailed close behind, each carrying a large leather trunk.

The trio of men barged in with such righteous boldness that the ignored gatekeeper gaped for a second, then recovered and rushed over to intercept them.

“Oi, this here is Ho Mansion! Who are you? Why’re you marching in without a word?”

The tall man covered a sneeze with a hand and sent the gatekeeper tumbling to the ground with a kick. “f.u.c.k off. I’m your Seventh Master, this is my own house!”

A recent hire, the gatekeeper knew the Seventh Master only by name. He stared dumbly for a second as he processed the words, then quickly scrambled to his feet.

“You’re Ch’i-yeh?  Dear me—I mean, n.o.body knew you’d be coming back today… I’ll go announce your arrival to the Lady right away!” Then he turned and hollered every which way: “Somebody come on out! The Seventh Master is back!”

With her fair complexion and full figure, Lady Ho carried her over fifty years of age well. Upon hearing that her son had returned on the morning of New Year, she felt like she had woken up to a dream. Dreams came in pleasant and nightmarish varieties; she couldn’t be sure which kind of dream she was in.

Ho Ji-Ch’ing wasn’t her birth son to begin with, and after more than six years of separation without any form of communication, what little affection she held had all but faded away. At this point, she could no longer muster any maternal love for the child, but it was still a good thing to have a son at home. A House as large as Ho couldn’t be run by herself forever. Chen-Ch’i was a good child, but he was still a nephew on her side. However much she fostered him, someone who didn’t carry the Ho name couldn’t appear in public.

She dipped a small comb with a bit of hair tonic and tidied her hair in front of a mirror. “Has the Seventh Master changed much after all these years?” she asked a servant standing by the door.

The servant considered the question for a moment. “Well…he still looks the same, but everything else about him is different.”

She gave him a glance. “What’s that supposed to mean? Has he changed or not?”

He pondered over this very solemnly. “It’s like...he’s still the same man, but his soul isn’t the same soul.”

The young maid next to him let out a giggle and chipped in: “How morbid, Old Li. All this talk about men and souls—are we being haunted?”

Lady Ho shot her a glare, “no manners.” She set her comb down and with the maid’s support, got to her feet languidly. She moved through the room as she muttered to herself with a sigh: “Why hadn’t he notified anyone before coming home? The first day of New Year…” She paused suddenly. “Old Li, go bring Master Nephew to the eastern parlour. He hasn’t met the Seventh Master yet.”

When Lady Ho stepped into the parlour, Ho Ji-Ch’ing—who’d now parted with his t.i.tle of Commander Ho—was warming his shivering hands with a cup of steaming tea.

Spotting Lady Ho, he put down the cup and nodded at her with a slight bow. “I’m back, Mother.”

The children of the family normally greeted her with kowtows on the first day of New Year. Lady Ho didn’t expect her grown son to drop to his knees for her, but she never imagined that after a few years apart, he’d come back with a demeanor like his devil of a father’s.

The demeanor was one of lofty apathy, as if everything around him was below him. A meager glance was enough of a perfunctory greeting.

A lump of ire caught in Lady Ho’s chest.

Lowering herself into the head seat with an unimpressed face, Lady Ho gave him a look. “Bao-Ting, where have you been? Why didn’t you send a message home beforehand?”

Ho Ji-Ch’ing gave an enormous shiver and picked up the cup of tea again. He sipped it slowly. “Where have I been… It’s an obscure place, you wouldn’t know it even if I told you. How have you been in the past few years?”

“I’m fine,” Lady Ho replied mildly. “But I’m reaching an age when no matter how careful I take care of myself, I still get aches and pains here and there. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong.”

Despite his recent change in status, Ho Ji-Ch’ing’s manners and habits were still those of Commander Ho’s. He drank his hot tea sip by sip. When he was just about to open his mouth after a long moment of silence, the sudden sound of footsteps were heard approaching outside. The door swung open and a young man in blue satin robes came in with a grin.

Spotting him, Lady Ho allowed a small smile: “you do move fast.” Then she turned to Ho Ji-Ch’ing. “This is the third son of your second uncle, formal name Lu Chen-Ch’i. The boy moved in and helped me run the household when you were away.

Ho Ji-Ch’ing threw him a glance and took in his slicked hair and powered face that gave him the appearance of a typical fop, and couldn’t even be bothered with a nod. “Thanks for your trouble, lad,” he merely said.

His tone and expression made it look like he was placating some grunt.

Lady Ho frowned. Was this the same cultured and elegant Seventh Son that left home a few years ago? He’d changed completely—a ruffianly haughtiness seemed to radiate from his very core.

Lu Chen-Ch’i didn’t seem bothered by it. “It’s no trouble at all, you’re too kind! I didn’t believe it at first when the servants told me you were back, so I rushed over right away. You probably haven’t seen me before since my family used to live in Nanking. I’ve seen Auntie’s photographs of you, but you were still little back then. I was anxious to even greet you when we first met.”

Commander Ho sat back into the chair, leaning on one side. He’d gotten used to the life of a rural despot where n.o.body cared about his posture, so he wasn’t even aware of his discourtesy at the moment. At Lu’s lively chattiness, he gave a smile. “How old are you, lad?” He gestured at a chair in front of him. “Have a seat.”

The Ho Ji-Ch’ing in the photographs always gave Lu Chen-Ch’i an impression of beauty and elegance. Now that he’d seen him in person, the beauty was still present, but the elegance was glaringly absent—in fact, he even exuded the air of a military thug. Lu found himself both shocked and dismayed.

He did as he was told and took a seat. “I was born during the twelfth moon,” he said with a smile. “I’m twenty-three this years.”

Ho Ji-Ch’ing continued drinking his tea and simply fell silent.

Lu waited for his reply. For a long moment he watched the other man as he drank his tea with whole-hearted concentration and seemed to have no intention to speak. Lu turned awkwardly to Lady Ho.

“Auntie,” he began with a smile, “will you be heading over to the Gu Mansion later? I had them prepare the gifts yesterday. The usual things, plus a Ruyi, since their new daughter-in-law is one of our own mistresses.”

Through the entire morning Lady Ho had been psychologically tormented by a son who’d materialized out of the blue, feeling like she was stuck in a never-ending nightmare. At Lu’s familiar chatter, she finally managed to snap herself back to earth, where life returned to its normal order.

“Add in the necklace as well. We should make it generous.”

Lu Chen-Ch’i mulled over it as he batted his eyes. “The necklace, the Ruyi… By the way, the pastry shop’s offering new packaging. They’ve got much nicer boxes this time, but they cost a few more coins each.”

“We should certainly get the nicer ones.”

“I’ve already ordered fifty of them, had them inscribe our emblem in gold.”

Lady Ho looked at him affectionately. “Good boy, that’s thoughtful of you.”

Next to them, Ho Ji-Ch’ing sat up straight with a pensive look. “Where’s the Sixth Sister?”

Lady Ho threw him a glance. “Married into the Gu’s from Finance last June.”

“Which one?”

“The second son.”

Ho Ji-Ch’ing nodded. “Good. As long as she got married. She’s a year older than me; would be an old maiden now.”

The Sixth Mistress, Yin-Di, was Lady Ho’s birth daughter. Lady Ho was not pleased by the remark at all.

Lu Chen-Ch’i stayed with Lady Ho and continued their discussion of New Year visits while Ho Ji-Ch’ing looked on with boredom. Since Lady Ho was giving him the cold shoulder, he soon decided to take his leave. Fortunately, the wing he used to reside in had been left empty. The servants ran about sweeping and dusting the place, replacing the curtains, beddings, and tablecloths. After an hour or two of chaos, they managed to more or less clean out a room.

Ho Ji-Ch’ing stood next to the windows with a vacant expression while Adjutant Feng and Hsiao-Shun ate their breakfast next door.

Staring at the old gnarled tree in the courtyard, he suddenly felt very alone.

After all the pains he went through in order to rid himself of the status of Commander Ho, he thought he’d be able to live a life of freedom. In truth, the closer he got to Peking, the more lost and aimless he felt.

He’d wanted to return to the simple life he had—Ho Bao-Ting at school, Ho Ch’i-yeh elsewhere. That was all. Yet life could be restored, what of the man himself?

During the six years he’d been Commander Ho, most of his time was spent in pillage and slaughter among barren lands where he’d gotten used to the tang of blood and war. Now that he’d finally gotten his way and returned to the civilised world, he found himself out of place amid his surroundings.

The discovery made him feel terribly depressed and lonely. He had hated Luyang, had trudged through countless perils and hardships when he risked his life to come home. But he had left his home too suddenly and for too long. There was no longer a place for him within the splendour of Ho Mansion. Moments ago while he listened to the soft conversation between Lu and Lady Ho, he felt like he was unnecessary, be it to Ho Mansion, Peking, or even the entire world.

It was a scary feeling, and because it was unexpected, he was at a loss as to what to do. He had been seeking peace and comfort, not neglect.

Retirement—men could grow old in retirement.

It sounded easy enough, but the pa.s.sage of time had to be endured day by day. He stood there until his legs grew stiff and checked his pocket watch. Only half an hour had pa.s.sed.

Adjutant Feng walked in. “Commander—I mean, Ch’i-yeh. Are you going to have breakfast?”

He finally detected the emptiness of his stomach. “I’ll have it now.”

“Hsiao-Shun’s already eaten everything. Where’s the kitchen? I’ll go get something for you.”

Ho Ji-Ch’ing wasn’t sure where the kitchen was. After a moment of hesitation, he gave an irritated sigh. “Never mind, we’ll eat out. I’ll have to take care of the gold on my hands anyway.”

Ho Ji-Ch’ing was about to go out, but found that he didn’t have a car to ride.

The House owned two cars. One of them was for Lady Ho, the other for Lu Chen-Ch’i. Ho Ji-Ch’ing knew that Lady Ho was going out for visits later, so he selected the older of the two. “Get the car, I’m going out.”

The driver wore a smile. “You are—the Seventh Master? Er—this is Master Lu’s personal car,” he snuck a look at the other man’s face. “If Master Lu finds his car missing when he comes out, I’d be at fault here.”

“Are you a Ho driver, or a Lu driver?” Ho Ji-Ch’ing asked the driver sharply. “If you work for the Lus, get the h.e.l.l out of here. If you work for the Hos, get in the f.u.c.king car now.”

Looking awkward, the driver implored Ho Ji-Ch’ing with a pained expression: “Seventh Master… Would you like to send someone in to check with Master Lu first? It really isn’t my decision to make. Actually, there’s a car rental not far away. How about I go reserve another one for you?”

Without warning, Commander Ho pulled out a pistol and slammed it into the driver’s head. “Go f.u.c.k yourself!”

Then he turned around: “Feng Guo-Chung! You’ll drive!”

Feng Guo-Chung—Adjutant Feng—gave an answer and went searching for the keys on the driver, who was now howling in pain with his arms around his head. He opened the front door and started the car.

[Long ramblings that may contain slightly spoiler-ish content. Not really though.]

Enough of my rambling. The second volume is quite a bit longer than the first one and there are two more volumes after that, plus an “epilogue” that’s 29 chapters long. You have been warned…