China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

of as well. But only one remained, an old woman who had lived with the family all her life. She couldn’t do much, but her presence was like a talisman, a reminder of the house in those better days to which, who knew, it might one day return. She, too, was a kind of comfort.

But for herself, that night, Mei-Ling felt only a sense of desolation. She kept thinking about her dear husband and her son. Where were they now? In some other hamlet? Camping out on a hillside? She tried to send her husband messages of love—like little presents, carefully wrapped. In her imagination she saw them fly through the night sky under the watchful moon, magically floating until they alighted, to be opened by her husband’s hands. Did he sense her messages? Was he awake? Did he receive them in his dreams?

Once or twice a terrible cold fear came to her. He was in danger. Something had happened to him. But with all her strength and will, she drove that evil spirit out of her mind, lest it should bring him bad luck.

She must have slept fitfully. When she awoke, she thought it might be dawn, but she was not sure. Leaving her room, she stepped into the courtyard—and found that she could scarcely see across it. The walls were invisible. Even the small tree in the center was only an indistinct shape, enveloped in the mist. Somewhere above the mist, there was light, or she would not be able to see even the little she could. But whether it was the faint light of daybreak or the brightness of the moon, almost full now, she could not tell.

She moved through the hushed glimmer to the gate, unbolted and opened it. She looked down towards the pond. But she couldn’t see even ten feet into the dense damp whiteness. A world without form. All life, all thought, dispersed in white nothingness.

She was going to step out. The ground, at least, would be solid under her feet. But a strange sense of fear held her back, as though the white nothingness were like a death. If she went blindly down towards the pond and missed the bridge, she might even slip into the water and drown. She stood in the entrance, therefore, one hand on the gatepost to steady her.

And then, somewhere close by, she thought she heard a horse’s cough.

She frowned. It couldn’t be. It must be one of the ducks that lived on the bank of the pond.

Then came a whisper, on her right, close by. Very close. “Mei-Ling.” Was it a spirit voice?

She turned her head and stared, saw nothing for a second, until a shadow began to coalesce in the faint unearthly light of the mist and a shape emerged.

“Nio! Little Brother.”

He was standing right beside her now. She could see the scar on his face. His long hair was held in place by a yellow silk scarf tied around his head. He wore a loose tunic, a red sash, and soft leather boots. He was leading a fine horse with a flowing mane. And something else was obvious.

He wasn’t her Little Brother anymore.

How long was it since he’d been there? Half a dozen years. He’d come through the hamlet briefly, told her he was joining the Taiping. Then the Taiping had moved away. There had been much fighting. They ruled a big area centered on Nanjing, but she never heard a word from Little Brother, and she’d wondered if he might be dead.

And now here he was, alive. He must be about thirty-five. To judge from his long hair, still a Taiping. An officer, too. It wasn’t only the clothes and the horse that made her think so. The way he held himself, every line of his face, proclaimed he was now a man of authority.

“Are you alone?” she asked, and he nodded. “How long can you stay?”

“Until this evening. I need to rest during the day. It’s safer to travel at night.”

—

She had to tell Mother. To her relief, the older woman took the news calmly. But she was firm. “He mustn’t stay in the house. We’ve enough troubles without being accused of harboring a Taiping. Take him and his horse to the barn at the back.”

The barn lay a short distance behind the house. It consisted of a storeroom above, under the roof, and an open bamboo area below with plenty of room for his horse as well as the plow and other farm implements kept there. It was enclosed, together with some low sheds, in a small yard of its own.

“The boys will be out in the bamboo grove today,” Mother said. “Nobody will be going to the storeroom. You and I could always say he must have hidden there without our knowing.”

Nio agreed with the plan at once, and long before the mist had lifted, he was fast asleep.

—

It was midafternoon when Mei-Ling brought him food. And as he ate, they talked. She wanted to know so much about his life. He explained that he was an officer, with many men under his command. Had he a wife? she asked. “I have women.” He said this without feeling. “I’ll marry when the war is over.”

“You still believe the Manchu must be overthrown?” she asked. “Just like the Little Brother I remember.”

“That hasn’t changed.”

“And you think the Taiping army can overcome them?”

“We’ve been fighting for years now. Sometimes we advance towards Beijing. Other times they push us back. An awful lot of people have been killed. But we have more troops in Nanjing than the emperor’s armies opposing us. And our men are better trained.”

“Is it worth it, all the killing?”

“For a Heavenly Kingdom, yes.” He paused. He saw her look doubtful. “When you’ve killed so many, Big Sister,” he said quietly, “it has to be worth it. One couldn’t have done all that for nothing.”

“And the Heavenly King himself? They all believe in him still?”

Nio paused for a