The thin man who had spoken to me reached out — his long-fingered, yellowed hand splayed up in the air — and grabbed the front of my uniform jacket, visible between my open furs. I don’t know whether he just wanted to see my insignia or whether it was a gesture of provocation; all I know is that I took an instinctive step back, to give myself room to draw my weapon and to end the unwelcome contact. The buttons and the gold braid, subjected to so much stress by travel and dirt, snapped and my jacket flew open, spitting forth the theatrical bill with Wong Jun’s calligraphy.
I wrestled out of the attacker’s hand, indignant, and quickly closed my uniform and buttoned my furs. Lee Bo tried to grab the bill out of the attacker’s hand, but the other Taipings held him back.
“You don’t understand,” I started. “I am not here to see the Qing, I swear to you… ”
But it was already too late, as the thin man pointed at me, shouting, and even though I did not know the word, its meaning resonated loudly. “Traitor!” he called. “An English traitor in our midst, a foreigner, carrying a letter offering alliance to the Qing!”
Lee Bo spun close to the ground, and in a fluid quick motion twisted the spear out of the hands of the large man; his foot swept in a wide semicircle, and the disarmed giant thundered to the ground, landing on his rear and elbows.
I already knew what Kuan Yu and Liu Zhi were capable of doing, but here, free of the confines of the train carriage, they took my breath away. I tried to fight, my saber parrying thrusts from the sword held by one of the Taiping guards, but my efforts were half-hearted, because even the threat to my very life could tear my attention from the acrobatic airborne miracles that were Kuan Yu and Liu Zhi. I do not think I had ever seen anything quite as graceful, quite as beautiful as their defensive display. Even the Imperial Ballet would appear a mere trundling of mincing cows in comparison.
Kuan Yu’s feet, slippered like those of a dancer, left the ground as if elevated by some divine will. Unceremoniously, he planted his right foot on the knee of his opponent, who stood with his legs slightly bent, thus offering Kuan Yu an incidental foothold. Kuan Yu pivoted, and his left foot arced through the air, striking several faces in quick succession.
Liu Zhi had disarmed one of the guards and used the spear as a staff to make a wide circle around him — he swung the spear to and fro, lashing viciously at everyone who dared to take a step toward him. Lee Bo, who had his back to Liu Zhi’s, thrust his spear at the brutish man who was the first to attack him, and all three seemed quite unconcerned about the immediate threat — their faces were set in an expression of thorough concentration, but there were no traces of fear or panic, the emotions I felt certain my own face betrayed in abundance.
There was a swish of air, and I stepped to the side, deflecting a sword’s point thrust at me. I am not a good swordsman: I had never had proper training, and all I knew I had picked up from the long summers spent playing with the children of engineers. Childhood play with sticks taught me to sidestep thrusts and to block direct hits; I had no form to speak of, but enough attention and strength to follow my opponent’s attacks and to parry or avoid them. He increased his exertions, and I had to turn away from the sight of Liu Zhi rising into the air, using the spears of several of the guards as rungs of an invisible ladder.
I defended myself as well as I could, even though my attacker kept pressing, forcing me back to the bridge leading down, and I had to keep looking sideways to make sure I was not about to tumble down the stone slope. The man was stronger and would have overpowered me, but I remembered the satchel I still held in my left hand. I swung it at his face, and connected with a satisfying, solid slap. My attacker staggered back, and I used the opportunity to lunge at him and demand he surrender his sword.
Meanwhile, Kuan Yu and Liu Zhi did not waste any time. By the time I stumbled back to the knot of the Taiping guards, they had felled many of the enemy; still more of them ceased attacking and, instead, stepped back. I did not think anyone was killed — even though Kuan Yu and Liu Zhi punched and kicked and punched some more, their fists a gray blur of fast and precisely terrifying motion, their attackers appeared awed and stunned rather than seriously hurt. The only blood flowed from injured noses and lips, not from serious wounds.
One of the guards noticed my approach, and swung about, a spear in his hands gleaming with a sharp brilliant point. I had no time to react as the spear struck me in the shoulder, and with a twist its handle broke off, leaving the point embedded in the cork of my corset. I frowned, and ripped out the spearhead; I think I impressed my attacker — he stepped back, giving me an opportunity to run for the gates.
Lee Bo took another wide swing at the crowd, and his eyes met mine. “Go!” he shouted. “Go inside.”
I ran across the stone paving, sheathing my sword as I ran. The Taipings intensified their efforts at not letting us through; Kuan Yu and Liu Zhi flew over them like two deadly birds. They seemed singularly undisturbed by gravity, and I left this question to be pondered at a more opportune time. I rushed to the carved double gates, red-colored wood covered in long, sinuous dragons and winding flower stems receding before me as if in a tunnel. They seemed so far away — until I slammed into them, full-tilt, and the doors slowly swung open, not making a slightest sound, as in a dream.
Lee Bo followed me right away, and I stopped.
“What are you doing?” he shouted, pulling the door closed behind us.
“Kuan Yu,” I replied.
“They’ll be fine, they can take care of themselves.”
I did not doubt his words, of course, and yet worry gnawed at me — even flying men could be killed, especially if it was only two against twenty. Against an armed twenty.
“You fought well,” Lee Bo said with some surprise, and sucked in his breath. “Come along now.”
We found ourselves in a small courtyard, where only two Taipings guarded the passage to the rest of the Forbidden City — I gasped at its vast and serene appearance, at the bright pavilions and the gardens that stretched around us. Everything was lavishly decorated. There was gold leaf to rival the domes of the Moscow churches, and carvings that seemed to breathe, giving life to the taloned maned monsters that decorated them.
The guards paid us little mind. The outside gates, heavy as they were, did not let through much sound, and I did not suppose they would have a reason to suspect that two men would somehow get through the twenty outside without their consent.
“Where’s Feng?” Lee Bo asked one of the guards — at least, this is what I thought he asked. I recognized the name Feng.
The guard waved his arm toward the large building off in some distance. Lee Bo translated. “Talking to the emperor, discussing terms of surrender.”
“Just the two of them?”
“Some officials.” The guard thought for a while, and then added, “And a Russian envoy.”
“Who would that be?” Lee Bo asked me as soon as we passed the guards.
“No idea,” I said. “I thought the Emperor Constantine did not want an alliance… but maybe my aunt has convinced him.” I smiled then, hopeful my work would be easier.
The Forbidden City seemed the Abandoned City now. We walked along the path lined with strangely shaped rocks and pillars; what they were supposed to represent was obscured by the snow. The trees that craned their slender, snow-weighed branches over the path must’ve been magnificent in the spring, when the white flowers frothed and cascaded over the boughs, and I squinted and imagined that the snow mounding on the stones were white petals of plum and cherry flowers.
“This is the Palace of Earthly Peace,” Lee Bo said and pointed at the large pavilion that dwarfed everything else around it. It also stood out from the surroundings because it had two roofs, one stacked on top of the other. The building itself was an arrangement of smaller pavilions, some lower and some taller. A wide staircase led toward it and several subordinate structures, topped with matching copper-colored rectangular roofs with steeply curved eaves.