Part 28 (2/2)

Mao gave one of his tiny enigmatic smiles. ”Hus.h.!.+ That is not in the spirit of the true revolutionary, s.h.i.+ tong zhi. You have a heart that I find impenetrable. Death is part of change. In all upheavals in all true revolutions, s.h.i.+ tong zhiblood must be shed. The old must give way to the new; it is the blood of the old regime that enriches the earth that the revolutionary tills.”

”Our revolutionaries wield guns, not plowshares.”

Mao nodded. ”For the time being that is so. And perhaps it will always be thus. Our enemiesnot ourselveswill determine that. China has been insulted enough by the unwanted presence of the imperialist barbarians. We will never again allow ourselves to become weak, a target for invasion. The Americans themselves have seen to it that I have an iron fist. They pour aid into Taiwan. They train Guomindang agents to infiltrate our Mainland society in an attempt to destroy us. I tell you they will not succeed!”

This interested Zilin since it paralleled his conversation with Huaishan Han. ”You have been talking with Lo Juiqing.”

”With Lo tong zhi, yes,” Mao acknowledged. ”And with Huaishan Han.”

They paused at the apex of Mirror Bridge. Across the s.h.i.+mmering water they could see South Lake Isle with its paG.o.dalike Dragon King's Temple. The islet was connected with the sh.o.r.e by the stunning seventeen-arch bridge. The buildings, vermilion, turquoise, orange and verdigris green, rose up from the still blue waters across which white herons and egrets swooped in long, arcing dives. The birds skimmed the translucent surface of the lake, plucking thras.h.i.+ng fish, s.h.i.+ning silver and gold in the sunlight, from just beneath.

”There,” Mao said, ”you see how the birds feed there. That is how the imperialists have treated China. They have plucked from us our natural resources. For decades they have grown rich off our land, caring nothing for the suffering and poverty of our people.”

Zilin thought of the succession of Chinese dynastic rulers who had done the same thing. But it was not his place to say such a thing. Besides, his mind was filled with what Mao had said just before.

”It is my belief that Huaishan Han received his orders from Lo tong zhi.”

”Not for some months,” Mao said. ”What a find that man is! I really must congratulate you, Zilin. I have kept my eye on him ever since you brought him to the Ministry of Public Security. The man is fearlesshe proved as much to me during several missions.”

”I knew nothing of these.”

”Of course you didn't.” Mao commenced to walk again and Zilin was at his side. ”Internal security is not your province. Besides, I know that the firm hand I am forced to keep at home displeases you. Why then should I burden you with the details of such, er, unpleasant operations.”

”What has Huaishan Han been doing for you?”

”Oh, he is part of the state machine,” Mao said easily, ”and you have heard me say more than once that the state machine is often an instrument for oppression.”

”That is what concerns me.”

”Why?” Mao asked. ”Are you not also part of the state machine?”

Zilin made no reply. He was thinking of Huaishan Han's repeated references to ”our people.” Since Lo Juiqing had created the Public Security Forces within his ministry, they had grown in size and power far beyond Zilin's expectations. He said so now.

”Nonsense,” Mao replied. ”Our revolutionas all revolutions has sp.a.w.ned radical changes in our society. Of course there must be pockets of those who believe in the old ways. Of course there must be pockets of those who do not believe in the sweeping changes we have made and are continuing to make. And the tasks of regaining control of an economy destroyed by war and of establis.h.i.+ng a nationwide administrative hierarchy sensitive to Peking's desires only add to our burden. And then there is the external threat of the Nationalist-American alliance.

”Authoritarian methods are sometimes the only alternatives. Without them a country would collapse during periods of rapid social andeconomic change. Tell me, s.h.i.+ tong zhi, how else am I able to stabilize a country this vast under these circ.u.mstances?”

Zilin walked in silence, his head down. Lost to view were the magnificent paG.o.das and temples, shaded walks and whispering trees. He saw with his mind's eye that a cord linking modern China with her past had now been severed. He saw, too, what no one else did: that this separation was irreversible. China could never go back. There might be gainwould have to bein order to justify all that would be irrevocably lost. The old skills will wither and die away beneath the banner of the revolution, he thought.

When at length he looked up again he saw that these magnificent structures had been built by a people already alien to him. His heart broke in unutterable sadness.

”There is unhappiness in your eyes.” she said. ”And pain in your heart.”

Senlin. Her name meant great forest, and in a very strange and compelling way it was apt, for Zilin felt lost when he was near her.

He was a man who had spent almost all his life developing a strategy adapted from that used by his childhood mentor, the Jian. The Jian had lived in Suzhou, a town of the most renowned and spectacular gardens. These yuan lin, which were in fact villas surrounded by gardens, were carefully tended, painstakingly built. The Jian lived in one such and slowly he revealed to the young Zilin the secrets of the yuan: how hills, ponds and the like could be fas.h.i.+oned by the hand of man to seem as confluent to the environment as if created by nature. This art of remarkable artifice, Zilin eventually discovered, could be translated to the world outside the yuan. One could become whatever one chose to be so long as one knew how to create the artifice appropriate to the circ.u.mstance.

Thus Zilin had eventually joined the Chinese Communist Party in order to fulfill his destiny as celestial guardian of China. His commitment to Communism was purely a pragmatic one. He had seen very early on that it was the concept behind which all of his countrymenso long wrapped up in petty internecine warfarecould unite in order to return control of China to the hands of its native sons.

To this endeven to have developed this strategy in the first place his qi was extremely powerful and well developed. It was his qi which allowed him to see into the very hearts of those around him in order to don his many disguises and thus get that which he wished.

Senlinthe great forestwas the one person with whom he hadcontact whose internal riddle he could not solve. This was at once a subject of concern and attraction to him. Compounding the enigma was the fact that he knew her own qi to be strong. He could in fact feel that hers was almost as powerful as his. Yet he was at a loss as to how it manifested itself. Few indeed would be the people who would see her as ”strong.” Certainly it was clear that her husband did not.

Then there were the incidentsincreasing in frequencywhen she was able to see through this meticulously constructed artifice. No one, not Athena or Mai, had been able to do that.

Now as they sat within his villa on a dark, still evening, she had done it again. Zilin had given up denying her insights. The first time he had done so, she had looked at him with her wide-apart ebon eyes and had said, ”Is there a reason why you are lying to me?”

He had been astounded. But there was nothing but the simplest honesty in her voice and on her face. Like a child yet to be sophisticated by the adolescent and adult worlds, she had opened her mouth and said what was in her heart. Zilin was to recall that imagery with great clarity in the weeks to come.

For now, he said, ”It saddens me to see what has become of us.”

”I do not understand.” She had the most endearing habit of canting her head to one side. Her thick black hair, gleaming richly in the lamplight, slid across her shoulder.

”Repression appears to be the only way in which to keep China functioning at the moment. The internal and external pressures are far too great for us to long tolerate. We have already gone through immense and painful political and social upheavals. My sense is that the agony for us is far from over. Many lives are yet to be lost. There is not yet enough blood spilled. How can the future dictate such cruelty when the present is so brutal.”

Senlin, watching him in the pool of soft light, said, ”Ask Buddha. In him we must seek our refuge.”

”Unfortunately,” Zilin said, ”Buddha has no place in modern-day society.”

”Is that what Mao tong zhi writes? If so you would be well rid of him. My husband as well.” Abruptly she turned her head away. Shadows fell across her cheek, spilling downward like a river at night.

Zilin wondered what had made her break off so precipitously. Was it the realization of her antirevolutionary words or something else? He wondered what else Huaishan Han had not told him. His friend had lied to him about the source of his a.s.signment. He had mentioned Lo Juiqing by name when he had not had to. Why? Perhaps it wasonly for security reasons. That would be acceptable. And in all probability the notion would have successfully pacified Zilin had Huaishan Han's recent behavior remained the same. But the fact was that he was rapidly becoming unrecognizable as the man with whom Zilin had formed a bond on the slopes of Jinyun Shan.

Like the new China itself, Huaishan Han was hardening his heart. Donning the colors of the revolution he was striking out with Mao's gun in his curled fist, Mao's philosophy filling his head, to perform Buddha only knew what unspeakable tasks.

He is part of the state machine. Mao's answer to his question, offhand and evasive, stuck in Zilin's mind like a warning flag. Huaishan Han believed that what he was doing was making China a safer place in which to live. He might even be right a which was even more frightening. Because Zilin suspected that when Mao sent his friend abroad in the land, people died. Silently, swiftly, without even a ripple of comment, the instrument of oppression carried out his appointed commissions.

Does Senlin know what he does? Zilin wondered. Does she suspect what he has become?

He rose and went to the window. Outside he could hear a nightingale's iterative call. He inhaled deeply, scenting rain. It was still some distance away but it was coming. As he watched, the darkness came alive with the forked flicker of lightning. When the second outburst licked downward, he judged the distance.

*The rain will not last long,” he said even as the first rumble of thunder echoed in the hills. ”Tomorrow will be a fine day. Perhaps you will venture out.” Except to see one doctor or another, Senlin never went outside the villa.

When she made no reply he turned from the window to contemplate her. You cannot remain in here forever, was what he should have said, but he could not bring himself to do so. It was something, perhaps, with which Huaishan Han would have scolded her. That Zilin would not do.

She was so frail looking. It seemed to him, watching her now in the soft lamplight, that her skin was as fragile as eggsh.e.l.l. Her luminous eyes regarded him without apparent emotion and, not for the first time, he found himself wondering by what magical art she was able to conceal the nature of her spirit from his probing powers.

”Huaishan Han told me several times before he left that you would not speak,” Zilin said. ”He feared there might be something wrong with you.”

Senlin held out her hands palms up. Her crimson nails glittered. ”There is a world here,” she said softly, raising her right hand slightly. ”And here”now the left”another.”

”The doctors”

”The doctors enjoy enigmas,” she said. ”When they can find none to occupy their minds, they create them.”

Zilin came away from the window and sat down next to her. ”Do you mean, then, that there is nothing wrong with you?”

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