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

thought to remove, making it flap and bang and shaking the pleasure boat to and fro.

They all went to bed early.

No one saw Mei-Ling slip out of the house into the dark. She was carrying a small bag.

—

Guanji was half dozing on the divan. He had not decided: Now I will sleep. But he might slip into unconsciousness at any moment; and if he did, he thought, he wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t mind one way or the other.

On the desk a small brass oil lamp—one he’d taken on campaign many times—provided just enough light so that, if he did sleep and wake again, he’d be able to see where he was.

Outside, the wind rattled the shutters. He liked the rattle of the wind, just as he loved the rain and thunder. They had never seemed threatening. They reminded him of the endless open plains he used to dream of as a child.

And perhaps he would have started dreaming then, except that he became conscious of a soft click that did not come from the shuttered window, but from his left. The door was being opened.

Instantly, he was fully awake. His right hand reached across to the sword beside his bed and grasped the hilt. But he kept his eyes almost closed, as though he were asleep.

Slowly, almost silently, the intruder moved across the floor and reached the foot of the bed. And then, by the lamplight, he saw: It was the woman, Mei-Ling.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Ah.” She gave a little involuntary gasp. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I’m awake now.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “There’s quite a storm out there.”

“Just a little wind.”

“You came here by yourself?”

“Whom would I bring with me?”

“And what can I do for you?”

—

Mei-Ling had come with two possible plans: one if he was asleep; the other if he wasn’t. She would have preferred it if he had been asleep, but he wasn’t. Going over to the clothes chest, she laid the little bag on it and began to undress.

She had kept her figure. The soft light was kind to her, but even in a harsher light she could have passed for a healthy woman ten years younger than she was. Then she turned to face him. He was smiling. She joined him on the divan.

—

Over the years, Guanji had formed a theory. The Chinese moon festivals might be about the completeness of the family, but many people also found the full moon to be conducive to the act of love. Guanji’s theory was that women were more affected by the moon than men.

That evening, however, a further idea occurred to him. Could it be that the full moon had drawn this woman to him, even though it was invisible behind the clouds? While he’d considered the thought that he might be able to seduce Mei-Ling before she left for the south again, he really hadn’t expected the older woman to make the first move, and to make it at once. It must be the moon, he thought, even though we can’t see it. Unless it’s the storm that excites her.

Whatever the reasons for her presence in his bed, he certainly had no complaints that night.

—

It was an hour after midnight when Mei-Ling very carefully stepped off the divan. The wind was still rattling the shutters almost as loudly as before. The general was lying on his back, fast asleep, his lips slightly parted, his face at peace. Exactly what she needed.

She didn’t waste any time. She didn’t want him to wake. She reached for the sword at the side of the bed and carefully drew it from its scabbard. The blade shone in the lamplight. She quickly tested it, just to make sure it was sharp. Then, balancing herself with her feet comfortably apart, she raised the Chinese sabre high over her head and brought it down with a smooth, flowing swing. “Let the blade do the work,” she’d heard the men in the village say when they chopped down a tree. So that’s what she did.

The general’s eyes started wide open. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. She pulled up the sword, wondering whether to strike again. She could see that she had cut clean through everything down to the neck bone. Did she need to sever the bone? His throat was opening in a great V. There was a gurgling sound, not very loud. Blood was pumping out. She stepped back.

She put the sword down over by the window. There was no need to put it out of the general’s reach, but she felt more comfortable doing so. Taking the small bag she’d brought with her, she opened the drawers of the desk. There was a little money in one of them. She took the money and tossed it into the bag. Then she took the seals off the shelves over the desk and put them in the bag, too. She looked around for anything else a robber might take and saw a small jade ornament. That also went in the bag.

She quickly got dressed. She saw that there was blood all over the bed now. That was good. If there were any signs of the evening’s activity, they’d be covered by the blackened blood.

She made sure she had left nothing behind other than the general’s sword and let herself out again.

It was pitch-dark, but she’d taken careful note of every inch of the way, and she knew how to move through the country. At one point, the lane passed directly beside the waters of the lake. Reaching into the bag, she tossed the contents—the coins and the seals and the little jade ornament—one by one out into the water, as far as she could.

Inside the hour, she was back in her bed. No one had seen her leave or return.

—

In the morning, Mr. Yao went to see a neighbor about a mile away. At noon he came back, looking shocked. “Have you heard? The