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“Nature must be allowed to take its course.”
“Why? So people can die? You seem to forget the thousands of years of floods and deaths.”
“You look like a modern woman, Hulan, but you’re so old-fashioned. Confucian ethics won’t work on the river.”
With that, the Taoist elements of the All-Patriotic Society’s beliefs that had eluded her began to make sense. He’d used them with the people as shorthand to decry the benefits of technology.
“From the earliest days of Yu, two moral schools of thought emerged about hydraulic engineering,” Michael said, veering back into the stylized language of Xiao Da. “Do we confine nature or let it run free? Do we let raw sewage pollute the reservoir or let it flow to the sea? Do we build high dams that barricade nature or deepen channels? Do we let the silt gather behind those high walls or do we let it fertilize the fields downstream? It is the classic battle between the male and female, the yin and the yang. The high walls are masculine, while the excavation of deep concavities is feminine—”
“You are so full of shit!”
“Kun failed to prevent floods because he tried to repress nature. His son guided the waters to the seas.”
“Confucian and Taoist practices have no place in a Communist state.”
“The state can resist, but the old beliefs run through the body of China like dragon veins—hidden, sometimes suppressed, but always affecting those who live on the surface.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m one of your followers!”
“All right then. Let me put it in words you’ll understand. You’re a good Communist, but can you tell me you haven’t lived your life hemmed in by the strictures of Confucian thought? Filial duty—”
Officer Su stepped back through the opening. “They are ready, Xiao Da.”
Michael kept his eyes on Hulan as he raised his voice so that it would resonate through the cave system. “Go forth tonight with my message. Do not wallow in pleasure. Subdue the wild tribes in your heart. Remember the Nine Virtues, remember your grade, remember your tribute.” He paused to lower his voice for a final blessing. “Be reverent,” he said, and below the tithing began.
David put his left hand on the wall to serve as a guide as he maneuvered down the tunnel, but he pulled it away after just a few yards. His hand was covered in something gooey and smelly. Without stopping, he wiped it on his pants leg and continued on. He rounded a corner and entered a small chamber filled with artifacts. His eyes grazed over the jade chimes like the one he’d seen at the Cosgrove’s auction and some pots still whole, but now was not the time to stop.
The tunnel began to lead down, breaking off here and there in new directions. Leaning his head into one shaft, he heard water rushing below. Focusing on another small opening, he heard echoing silence. He listened at every shaft, tunnel, alcove, and indentation, trying to home in on the chanting. Even when it stopped, he could still hear voices. Hulan was down there somewhere! Though he couldn’t make out the words, he could catch her inflections and cadences floating to him through the darkness. A tumultuous combination of relief and gritty determination pushed him forward.
The tunnel narrowed and shortened until he had to get on his hands and knees to pass through. He pushed the lantern and ruyi ahead of him, then edged behind them. His head and side throbbed. Each movement sent searing pain zapping across his nerves. He began to hear the lies Michael Quon told. He heard the mistakes as well. He knew that Hulan had found her way here somehow, but she still didn’t know the truth of what had happened. He hoped that ignorance would protect her.
The rocky ceiling lowered even farther. If it got much tighter, he’d have to abandon the lamp and do this blind. If it got much tighter than that, he wouldn’t be able to make it through at all.
The people below had gone home, and it was just the four of them now: Hulan, Michael, Su, and Hom. She still had her weapon, and it was loaded, but she could see that Su had his service revolver, and for all she knew Michael had Hom’s. But every time she tried to focus on how to disable the two men without getting killed herself, Michael interrupted her thoughts with his persistent and increasingly personal conversation.
“How many times has your husband gotten you into dangerous situations?” he asked.
“I’ve gotten myself into things that were dangerous.”
Michael considered this, then said, “Your husband led you to your father’s hiding place. Your father would have killed you.”
But David had taken the bullet for her.
She stayed beside Hom and put her hand on his chest. She wanted him to know she wasn’t leaving. To Michael she said, “You’ve researched my life, but so what? Any fool can find my life history. A search on the Internet, a day reading newspaper clippings….”
Michael ignored her words. He stood and gracefully stretched his arms above his head, then brought his hands down to the small of his back and stretched again. He crossed over to her and hunkered down so that they were eye to eye. “And what man who loves a woman would let her go into a factory of death?”
Yes, the terrible deaths at the Knight factory, but Michael didn’t know the truth of that day either.
“I went in there against his wishes.”
“That man has no sensitivity to our culture—”
“It is not your culture—”
“If he’d opened his eyes, he would have known you weren’t safe. He would have protected you,” Michael wheedled.
“I’ve protected myself—”
