Chapter 8 Liu
Throughout these months, as Li fell deeper and deeper under Ming-tsu's
erotic spell, he continued with his plans to subvert the Black Scorpions.
Despite his almost nightly amorous adventures with Ming-tsu and their occasional
ventures into some of the darker corners of lust, he remained intent on the
mission Wen-chi had given him.
More and more frequently his knowledge of the Scorpions' plans allowed
him to alert some of Wen-chi's loyal followers, who would then intercept the
Scorpions, seize their weapons, send them off to join their ancestors in the
spirit world and throw their bodies into the harbor, so as to make the Chans
think that their men had simply left the city.
Once every month or so, Li would disguise himself, so as not to be
recognized or followed by his Scorpion henchmen, and visit the house of Wen-chi,
to let the old man know how their plans were progressing.
On one such afternoon, after secretly making his way across the city to
Wen-chi's home in the old quarter, he found Liu, as was her custom, in the
garden, lovingly tending to a flower-bed, her gentle hands caressing each stem,
each leaf, each bud with an almost maternal tenderness. She was dressed in a
simple, but elegant tunic and trousers of the same color as the fragrant lilacs
that grew alongside the gazebo near the rear of Wen-chi's estate.
When she heard Li's footsteps, Liu rose to greet him, her smile as warm
as the late-summer sun that held them in its afternoon embrace. He had decided,
this day, to tell his adopted 'sister', his oldest and best friend, of his
love for Ming-tsu.
Li went on at some length, as Liu listened politely, praising Ming-tsu's
classic Chinese beauty, her intelligence, her sense of humor, eager to have
Liu's blessing.
It was not easy for Liu to mask her disappointment, but she gently
smiled at him, and said, "I have heard of her, Li. She is a great beauty without
a doubt. But I have heard stories told of her that make me wonder if
grandfather would approve."
Li smiled down at her. Today her long dark tresses were piled decorously
in two old-fashioned crescents on her petite head. "Then it is best that she
should remain our little secret, my little flower; there will be plenty of time
to tell Wen-chi later. But why such a long face, little one? So what if
Ming-tsu is a bit on the wild side? It's not as if anyone else ever cared about
me in this way before."
At this Liu's soft brown eyes turned away and she bent to pick a handful
of flowers from the garden. She lifted the improvised bouquet to her face as if
to inhale its sweet fragrance; but in truth she was just trying to shield her
eyes from his view. She held the flowers before her face as she rose and faced
him again.
"Being in love is like floating on air, Liu. One day you will see."
"Not always, Li, not always," she said softly. And then she pulled
herself together, smiled brightly and said, "I'm very happy for you, Li. You
deserve a great beauty, and I'm glad you have found one who makes you so happy."
"I hear grandfather returning. I must speak to him before I go. Remember,
not a word to him about Ming-tsu." She smiled shyly as he gently kissed her on
the cheek and turned to leave.
After he had left, her hand reached up to her face as if to try to preserve
that kiss forever. Only the butterflies that floated gently above the garden
were witness to the tear made its way down a lovely cheek as she walked slowly
back toward the the gazebo, took a seat and looked skyward, just in time to see
a single cloud in an otherwise cloudless sky drift in front of the bright
September sun. Moments later the first leaf of autumn fell from the Chinese elm
whose leafy arms formed an emerald canopy over the garden of Wen-Chi.
When Li joined the venerable Wen-chi in his study inside the house, he
noticed that the old man had aged considerably since his last visit. Liu had
told him on his last visit that her grandfather's eyesight was rapidly failing.
After greeting him warmly, Wen-chi, his face lined with worry, changed
the subject. "My son, I hear that you have taken up with a woman named
Ming-tsu."
There was an unvoiced question mark at the end of his sentence.
Shamefacely Li nodded. He had hoped that Wen-chi would not learn of his
dalliance.
"I am told that she is a great beauty," Wen-chi continued.
"Yes, my father, she is; and very intelligent too," Li volunteered
eagerly, hoping that this knowledge would win the old man over.
"I am sure she is, Li, I am sure she is. But is she a woman of virtue?"
Li was silent.
The old man continued, "Confucius, our ancient Master, taught 'That I
have found none who love good as they love women"."
Li, somewhat ashamed of how his lust had led him to pleasures his
revered grandfather would have rightfully condemned, only nodded silently.
"Is this woman, 'good', Li Chang, or merely beautiful?"
"She is good for me, father; I am happy when I am with her."
"My son, you seek to overthrow the Black Scorpions; I honor your pursuit
of that quest. But if you succeed, someone must govern in their stead. At times
I fear for you. The Master said, "What is governing to him who can rule
himself? Who cannot rule himself, how should he rule others?" The old man
paused, his eyes sad. "But lately I am not so sure that you can govern
yourself."
Li Chang, torn between his reverence for his wise mentor, and his
reluctance to forsake the forbidden pleasures offered by Ming-tsu, knew that
these words were true.
"I will leave you with these last words, Li Chang. They are from the
pen of Lao-Tze. "He who overcomes others is strong, but he who overcomes
himself is mighty." Then the old man slowly rose to his feet, and took Li's
hands in his. "Thank you for coming my son; I have not too many more years to
live. Soon, I will no longer be able to see with these tired old eyes. But the
vision of a good heart never wanes. Never forget that, Li. You must carry on in
my work when I have gone. You must do so wisely."
Li regarded the cloudy eyes, the pointed white beard and the worried
brow of the man he revered as no other. "I know father, I know."
"Have you spoken to Liu today? I believe that she is in the garden.
She misses you very much, you know."
"I know father," Li responded. "And I miss her. And you of course, as
well." After glancing at a beautifully enamed clock on the wall, he said,
"Father, I must be going. I have an important meeting of our cell in half an
hour. May our ancestors protect you."
"And you my son, and you," the old man said sadly as Li made his way out
of the door.
A moment later, his grand-daughter approached him as he stood staring
out the window ruefully after his adopted son.
"Grandfather," she asked, her eyes downcast, "What is love?"
The old man's wrinkled brow furrowed in thought for a long moment. And
then he smiled at Liu and whispered, "Confucius teaches us that "Love is slow to
speak."
There was a tremor in Liu's soft voice. "To be slow to speak! Can that
be called love?"
The old man gave a long sigh. "The Master said: "That which is hard to
do, can it be lightly spoken?"
Wen-chi took his grand-daughter's small hand, slightly smudged by the
earth of the flower bed, in his, and they stood there together for several
minutes watching the diminishing figure of Li Chang gradually vanish as he
walked eastward into the distance, away from the afternoon sun.
