He has come for me. The thought seemed to tear her heart out of her chest. But she steadied herself, watching him, waiting.
Within a minute, she saw there was no danger; he barely perceived her. He did not even glance at her body, tight-sheathed in crimson silk, or her hair, tied back with hothouse gardenias. This fit what was said of Dai-that he did not go with women, and not with men either, preferring to avoid the house thing altogether. He even required all the men under his command to be celibate as well. Whatever the reason, she was apparently invisible to him, and could breathe again.
“Here.” Du thrust out a copy of the North China Daily News, China’s most important English-language paper. “She reads English,” he said to Dai Li, as if this rare ability was commonplace among bondmaids.
“Teacher,” Song said respectfully, with lowered eyes. Quickly she scanned the article before starting to translate, and her last hopes sank. The foreign powers were calling on Shanghai to simply give up-surrender to Japan!
When she was almost finished putting the article into Chinese, the door clicked open and Lin Ming came in, making a silent reverence to Du and Dai Li. She came to the last paragraph: “However bitterly Japanese aggression may be resented, it can hardly be denied that its extension would be encouraged rather than stayed by physical resistance from the Central Government, and would be accompanied by such complete destruction of China’s resources that all hopes of national reconstruction would have to be indefinitely postponed.”
The silence of outrage filled the room. Everyone had been hoping the Concession powers would help them-depending on it, in fact.
Du spoke first. “How dare they print such a treasonous demand?”
“They are telling us to what? Form a puppet government?” said Dai Li. “Just like they did in Manchuria, with ‘Emperor’ Pu Yi!”
“That poor fool,” said Du. “Haven’t you heard it said? The ghost of one devoured by the tiger helps the tiger to devour others.”
Dai Li nodded. “England and France and America do not care if we fall to Japan or anyone else, so long as they can keep making money.”
A rustle of movement brought Du’s attention to Lin, who still stood beside Song, his face full of pain. “Teacher, forgive my intrusion, but I just heard the news from Uncle Hua that you have been awaiting. Thomas Greene received an invitation today by message boy from Admiral Morioka, to tea.”
“Tea?” said Du. “Where? When?”
“Tomorrow, at the hour of the rooster. Café Volga on Avenue Édouard VII.”
“It’s a trap,” guessed Dai Li.
“Trap of what?” countered Du. “Our men aren’t going to be out in the open.”
“All I know,” Lin said, “is he sent his boy with the invitation. And Thomas Greene accepted.”
Song wanted to scream and tear at her hair. How could he accept, after he had been warned-by Lin, by her-
Dai Li, with his bulbous forehead and flabby midsection, bounced from one foot to the other in a dark troll parody of childish excitement. “We won’t miss. His mother! We’ll kill everyone within ten feet of him.”
“Not the piano player!” said Lin. “Not the American.”
She touched his arm from behind, wanting to get him alone so they could talk.
Du turned toward Lin’s voice and saw to his surprise that Song was still there, standing behind Lin, listening. “Go,” he ordered, and she obeyed.
It was past eight the next morning when she awoke to the thud of bombs and distant, toylike pops of gunfire. She jumped up. Plumes of smoke were rising above the rooftops far to the north, well beyond Suzhou Creek, in the direction of Japanese Army Headquarters. She prayed their evil command center had been hit by Chinese bombers. Late last night, word had raced through the Party that a full-on Chinese counteroffensive was about to start.
Just as she began to dress, Ah Pan slipped in. “Elder Brother’s downstairs.”
Thanks to heaven. “Have Lin wait for me in the garden. Bring Dongting oolong and xi fan. Tell him by the time the tea is ready to pour I will be there.” She paused in front of the mirror to put up her hair. “Go!”
Ah Pan vanished.
On the back lawn she found him waiting, brooding as he stared across the back wall toward the smoke. For the first time ever, he looked old to her, his face sunken, cheekbones bulging. He looked more like Teacher.
“It’s going to rain,” she said, to lighten things with a joke, for now, even as the Japanese bore down from the north, a typhoon was roaring toward them from the east, its black clouds piling up in the sky.
Lin smiled mirthlessly as servants appeared with xi fan and condiments. She ladled the rice gruel into his bowl, and added the spring onion, smoked fish, shreds of river moss, and crisp peanuts she knew he liked. Another explosion boomed from the northeast, where the skies were darkening, though it was morning.
“Ge,” she said, Elder Brother. “About Thomas.”
“I know!” Lin burst out. “I warned him. Nets above and snares below-how could he do this?”
“He has to be warned again.”
Lin spooned up his xi fan, wincing at the far-off grumble of thunder. “They are watching me day and night.”
“I’ll go,” Song said quickly. “No one will suspect me.” It was true; though she translated nimbly whenever English was needed, Du saw her mind as capable of containing the two languages, and nothing more. “Why would they connect me to him? He is nothing to me.” She watched Lin carefully and saw to her relief that he had no idea she and Thomas had met, not one time, but twice.
Lin said slowly, “Do you think they would let you go out today?” He glanced to the north, where bombs flickered against the storm clouds.
“It’s Saturday. Every Saturday I go downtown to buy Taitai’s medicine. Taitai needs her medicine.” She did not have to remind him that even though the Supreme Wife was incapacitated, in traditional ranking she was still the most important person in the household next to Du himself. “Should I go to his lilong house off Rue Lafayette?”
“No. I just telephoned; he is not there. He went to a studio he keeps on Peking Road, just off the Bund, opposite the river. I have told him it’s unsafe there.”
Her eyes widened; unsafe indeed. That intersection lay directly in front of the Idzumo, the Imperial Navy’s flagship, a massive war machine and an obvious target. “Don’t worry, Brother, I’ll go. I’ll take care of it.”
Normally she left to buy the herbs late in the day, but at one o’clock, seeing the northern suburbs burning, she decided she dared wait no longer. The radio buzzed and chattered: last night Chiang had given the order to begin attacking Japanese positions, and now Zhabei, Wusong, and Jiangwan were on fire, with the Eighty-eighth Division struggling to hold the Japanese back and sending up plumes over the cityscape. The time was now.
At the front door she was accosted by the guard. “I must get Taitai’s herbs.”
“Danger. No one goes out.”
“Taitai needs medicine. You know I go every Saturday. Her medicine is used up.” She raised the prescription. “I must go.”
She saw him hesitate. “Give a look.” She threw her gaze out toward Rue Wagner. “It is quiet now, safe. In a few hours, who knows?”
“The Supreme Wind is coming.” Tai Feng.
“I will be back before it is upon us.”
She saw his mind working. Taitai’s health was no small matter. “If Teacher comes home to find her sick-”
“All right,” he said. “But one person, no. Someone must accompany you.”
“I’ll get my maid,” she said, needing to grasp the reins quickly, before he could call one of the guards.