China by Edward Rutherfurd (latest novels to read TXT) 📗

change of regime, though nobody seems to know what that would be.”

“Well,” his father said, “I’m glad I shan’t be there to see it.”

—

It was after the evening meal that they heard the thunder. Darkness had fallen some time before. The boy wanted to go outside to see, so he and Shi-Rong went into the courtyard. As they did so, they saw a flash of lightning in the west.

“Look, Grandfather.” Bao-Yu pointed up. “Stars.”

He was right. The thunderstorm was closer than the one before, but it hadn’t reached this part of the Yellow River valley yet. The sky above was clear and full of stars.

Shi-Rong went to the gate and stepped through it. From out there, looking across the valley, he could see the whole weather system.

It was a strange sight. A line of blackness stretched right across the sky from south to north like a great curtain. And from within it came great rumblings and flashes and roars. The storm was ten, maybe a dozen miles away, he thought.

“Grandfather.” Bao-Yu was at his side. “Can we go up the hill to watch?”

Shi-Rong looked down at him. “You think we should?”

“Oh yes.”

“What a good idea.” He turned to Ru-Hai, who had appeared just behind him. “You and I can each take a lamp. Not that I need one, really, I know the path so well.”

“What if the rain reaches us?” Ru-Hai objected. “We’ll get soaked. And it’ll be slippery.”

Shi-Rong and his grandson looked at each other. “We don’t care,” they said.

So they took lanterns and made their way through the village, whose occupants, thinking this must be a ritual of some kind, watched from their doorways with interest. And as they moved up the path, the only person who tripped was Ru-Hai, who wasn’t very pleased about it.

When they finally reached the ledge where the ancestral graves were, Shi-Rong put the lamps behind one of the graves, so that their light wouldn’t distract from the view, and for a quarter of an hour they gazed out at the huge storm as it advanced towards them. Now and then came a huge flash, a bang, and a roar that seemed as if it meant to rip the firmament apart.

Then Ru-Hai looked up at the sky and noticed that there were not so many stars to be seen. He said they’d better go back. But Shi-Rong caught a glimpse of his grandson’s face in a big lightning flash and said: “We could have a last look from up at the temple if we’re quick.” And before anyone could say anything, the boy was running to retrieve the lamps. Shi-Rong turned to Ru-Hai. “Only for a minute or two,” he promised.

And indeed, they had been up by the temple only a few moments when their view was obscured by a film of rain not far away, and they felt the damp breeze on their faces.

“Time to go down,” said Shi-Rong to his grandson. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh yes, Grandfather.”

“It was quite a sight,” said Ru-Hai, with slightly less enthusiasm.

So they went down, and the rain did not start to fall until they had reached the village street. The rain was quite light as it pattered on the path and splashed the tops of the lamps, so they were only a little wet when they got home.

Then they all retired, to sleep until the morning.

—

The storm was kind to them that night, veering northward so that only its outskirts passed over the village in a series of light rains and showers, dying to nothing before the dawn.

By the time they had breakfasted and the horse and pony had been brought to the gate, the sky was a clear pale blue.

“There’s no need to take the valley road into the town and then go all the way back up again into the hills,” Shi-Rong pointed out to his son. “Just go through the village here and take the path across the high ground. You know the way. You’ll be at the Shaolin Monastery by late afternoon.”

Ru-Hai agreed and bade his father farewell. “We shall all meet for Qingming in the spring,” he told his father firmly.

Shi-Rong nodded without replying. Then he turned to the boy. “I have something for you,” he said, and gave Bao-Yu a tiny box. “Do you remember the little bone where you spotted the character for horse was scratched?”

“I do, Grandfather.”

“Well, that’s what’s in there. I want you to keep it as a present from me in memory of this visit.”

“Thank you, Grandfather.” The boy looked overjoyed.

“You must keep that always,” said his father.

“I will,” Bao-Yu promised.

“Goodbye then,” said Shi-Rong. And he stayed by the gate and watched them go up the lane until they were out of sight.

—

An hour later, he sat at the table in his small library. The two scrolls he had prepared were in front of him. No need to change them. Everything had worked out exactly as he’d hoped. He was almost ready to walk over to Mr. Gu’s house.

But there was one small duty that perhaps he should perform. He’d been thinking about it for some time.

Mei-Ling. That money she’d asked him for at Bright Moon’s wedding.

He’d been so shocked by the turn of events just then, so shaken by the loss of all that money he’d expected to make, that having spent enough already on the wedding, he’d told himself he couldn’t part with anything more. Looking back now, he realized that it would have made no difference to him at all.

He could so easily have rectified the business. But having refused at the time, he had thought for no good reason that it would make him look weak if he relented. So he’d done nothing. Almost forgotten it. And he realized to his shame that he didn’t even know for certain whether Mei-Ling was still alive. He imagined she probably was.

Those about to die, he thought, should keep good accounts.

He went to the cabinet and took out a small square