"Papa Lin?"
Lin looked up again, meeting his son's eyes, a new respect in his own. "Yes, Lin Chao?"
"I thought I would apply for a job. At the big house."
Again Lin swallowed. Again he gave a single nod of his head. Yet, as Chao made to turn away, he spoke out.
"Chao ... Do not give up hope. Your studies . . . You must keep them up, neh?"
Chao glanced at his adopted father, then averted his eyes once more.
"I shall help you," Lin said, his eyes trying to make some connection with the boy. "An hour a night we'll spend, you and I, going through your books. We will make do, neh, Lin Chao? And when things are better . . ."
Chao shuddered, suddenly close to tears. Emily, watching, steeled herself. She had promised Lin she would say nothing, do nothing. She had given her word. But young Ji had made no such promises. As if he read what was in her heart, Ji ran across and, throwing himself at Chao, held on tightly to his leg, wanting to comfort him in his disappointment. Chao looked down, smiling, then knelt and picked Ji up, cuddling him tightly, almost fiercely, then turned and went silently from the inner yard.
As the doors clinked shut she looked to Lin, meaning to say something, then stopped, seeing the first tear run slowly down Lin Shang's cheek.
"Papa Lin," she said, making to go to him, but he raised a hand as if to fend her off.
"Chao sets an example for us all," he said, after a moment. "We must all be strong from now on. And we must make do. Just as First Son Chao makes do."
She looked back at him and nodded, smiling, but her smile was laced with regret Oh, Lin would keep his promise. He always did But an hour a night... what was an hour a night? Besides, if Chao did get a job at the big house he would be tired when he came home. . . that was, if he did come home and did not stay there in the big house with his new Masters. No, both Lin Shang and Chao knew what this meant. It meant the end of Chao's dream of a College place. The end of any hopes he had of bettering his life.
"Well. . ." Lin began, stirring himself. "I think we ought. . ."
There was a sudden violent hammering at the outer gates. From the outer courtyard came the alarmed shouts of her boys, then the sound of one of the big doors splintering beneath a heavy blow.
She had turned the moment she had heard the sound. Now she made to go through, but Lin was behind her, holding her arm.
Emily turned, almost glaring at him in her anxiety to go through.
"No violence," Lin said, his hand gripping her arm tightly. "Promise me no violence. It will not help us."
"Lin Shang . . ." She made to tear her arm away, but he would not let go.
"No violence. Promise me\"
Damn you, Lin Shang! she thought, then, knowing he would not budge, she nodded. "Okay. I promise. Now let go!"
He let go.
She stiff-palmed the door open, crouching as she came through, ready for anything, but what she saw made her freeze, horrified.
"Aiya!"
Chao had set Ji down and now knelt, his head down, a butcher's cleaver, the edge razor sharp, pressed flat against the nape of his neck. The punk who held it stared across at Emily defiantly, an awful, mocking smile on his face. Beside him, standing there looking about them casually, were four others. They were liumang - street punks - but they were also more than ordinary punks. From the bright red bands they wore about their foreheads she knew they were also "runners" - Triad members.
Her boys were scattered about the outer courtyard, some seated in their cubicles, others standing near the shattered door. They looked to her, afraid. Ji, she could see, was staring hard at the floor, trying not to cry.
Knowing how important it was, she steeled herself, keeping the fear she felt from her face, her voice. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, confronting the runners.
"What do you want?"
The biggest of them - their leader; a tall Han with a sallow complexion that spoke of a bad diet - turned towards her, taking her measure, then glanced to the side, looking to his friends, a sneer of a smile on his lips.
"We want money, old woman," he said bluntly. "Fifty yuan or we smash the place up."
For a moment she felt old instincts call to her - felt the urge to step and kick, breaking the bastard's jaw - but she could see Chao out of the corner of her eyes and knew she'd not be quick enough to save him if she tried to fight them. Besides, she'd promised Lin.
"We can't pay you. We haven't even twenty yuan, let alone fifty!"
He came close, so close that she could smell the sweat on him, the sun-heated leather of his belt, and something else -something in his sweat.
She recognised that smell. Knew it from way back. Briefly she met his eyes and saw the tell-tale signs, that faint gold speckling about the enlarged pupil. The man was an addict, and his addiction was the most deadly drug there was -"Golden Dreams". Silently she stored the knowledge, knowing from past experience that such things could be used. Not now, perhaps, but some time.
"You give me what you have," he said quietly, threateningly, "and maybe no one will get hurt. Okay?"
She hesitated, the instinct to hit him - to hurt him badly -welling up in her again, then nodded. She turned, meaning to look to Lin, to signal to him, but he had already gone inside. A moment later he returned, holding the old "ice" box that held all their money. Coming closer, he held it out, offering it. "Twenty four eighty," Lin said, his voice small.
The liumang took it with a marked disdain and, without looking at what was inside, handed it back to one of his companions, his eyes never leaving Emily's face.
"You nice for old woman," he said, looking her up and down. "We go inside, maybe? Work off what you owe me?"
There was laughter from the punks behind him, but his eyes were cold. Looking at him she could almost read his thoughts -she knew exactly what he had in mind.
"No," she said, "We pay you later. Okay:"
His eyes widened slightly, noting the sudden, uncompromising toughness in her voice. Even so, she was at least thirty years older than him. Not only that, she was a woman. How much of a threat could she possibly be? Slowly the smile returned to his face, a fixed and ugly smile, like something painted on a theatrical mask.
"I fuck you now, maybe. Right here."
She laughed, no humour in it. "That would be a very stupid thing to do, my friend."
"Stupid?" He bared his teeth angrily.
"You touch me and Lin Shang there will try to kill you."
The punk looked at Lin Shang and gave a dismissive laugh. "The lao jen? I break him like a rotten twig!"
She stepped closer, standing face to face with him.
"You don't see it, do you? Oh, you'd swat Lin Shang as if he were a fly. I know that. Even he knows that. But he would keep coming back, keep on trying to kill you, until you had no choice but to kill him. And if you killed him there would be no one to pay the fifty yuan. And if no one paid the fifty yuan, what would your Master, the Mountain Lord say?"
Emily lifted her chin in a tight gesture of challenge. "He'd skin you alive, I'd say."
He stared back at her, taking in what she'd said, then nodded, as if accepting it. But he wasn't done yet. Pushing her aside, he stepped past her, facing Lin Shang.
"She your wife, lao jen? You love her? You fuck her every night?"
Emily had begun to relax; now she felt herself tense again. There was no need for this. No need to talk like this in front of her boys. She clenched her fist, angry suddenly, then slowly unclenched it, knowing Lin was right. Violence was not an option here. Lin's eyes went to her, then returned to the punk who stood before him. She saw him wet his lips with his tongue, saw his damaged face twitch once, a second time. Then, with a casual brutality, the liumang brought his knee up into Lin's stomach.