{"id":6318,"date":"2021-08-19T22:21:48","date_gmt":"2021-08-19T14:21:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.benjamincheah.com\/?p=6318"},"modified":"2021-08-19T22:21:48","modified_gmt":"2021-08-19T14:21:48","slug":"the-wind-blows-from-the-west-part-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/?p=6318","title":{"rendered":"The Wind Blows From The West Part 1"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"Steam,<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Since he\u2019d last been in the city, reconstruction and urban development had overridden his memories. Now a citywide steam tram service plied the streets, alongside rickshaws and steam cars, all of them imported, all of them driven by locals. When he was a child, most road traffic was velocipedes and sedan chairs and bullock carts. Only foreigners ran anything with steam engines. Progress, he supposed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He flipped up his jacket\u2019s collar and dug his hands into his pockets. It was a cold day, but that was not the only reason. The bakgwai<\/em> might be returning to the city, but he was neither white man nor yellow, and there were still people who thought people of his color were the younger brothers of the white devils. He wasn\u2019t bored enough to start fights with such people over something so trivial.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nobody at the tram stop paid him any more mind than they would a scampering rat. Tilting his head, he tried to make sense of the tiny squiggly lines on the board that displayed the tram route. The stops were written solely in Kuowen, the new national script, and it took him a moment to comprehend the ideograms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the tram arrived, he stood well back and watched. He watched the civilians line up, board the bus, drop coins into the ticket box. Following them aboard, he was greeted by a large board that told passengers the price of a ticket in all of the currencies in use in Sum Kong. He plunked in a one-yuan coin into the box. With a whir, it spat out nine one-chiao coins and a tiny slip of paper. A small part of him wondered at the machinery within. The rest of him gathered up his treasure and headed to the rear of the tram.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were no seats left. He grabbed a metal pole in the middle of the tram. He shared the pole with a man who stared at him in distaste. His cold grey eyes met the man\u2019s hot brown ones and whispered without words a promise of sharpened steel. The pure-blood immediately looked down with a frown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He got off two blocks from his destination and walked the rest of the way. Upright, head up and hands out. Here, within spitting distance of the International Quarter, people cared less about the colour of a man\u2019s skin than the colour of his cash. Two streets later, people looked instead at a man\u2019s reputation and the kit he carried on his person.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stopped outside a plain three-storey building that dominated a crossroads. The sign above in old-style script read \u2018Risk Takers\u2019 Guild\u2019. Next to the door, a middle-aged man leaned against the wall next to a long handcrafted pole. The guard grinned and straightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh Lee!\u201d he greeted. \u201cIt\u2019s been too long.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee smiled back. \u201cMr Wong. How\u2019s your mokwoon<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the day, Wong manned the door of the Guild. In the evenings, he ran a martial arts school on a nearby rooftop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoing very well, thank you. And you? You\u2019ve been away for three months. Been busy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes. Going to get busier again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee made for the door. Wong held up a hand. \u201cI need your membership card.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI never needed it to go in before.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe installed an automatic door while you were away. It won\u2019t open without your card. Management is trying to keep out unwanted guests.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee couldn\u2019t argue with that. He\u2019s heard too many stories of frauds or small fry stealing contracts from legitimate risk takers. Those jobs usually ended in disaster. He retrieved his card from an inner jacket pocket. Wong fed it into an unobtrusive box next to the door. The machine read the punched card and spat it out. The door opened gently with a soft click.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People flowed around the lobby, talking in hushed whispers, heading to the upstairs offices, or going to the Jobs Hall on the right. Lee instead turned left, following the sound of frying food to the cha teng<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Business was good. Most of the tables were occupied. A radio in a corner played popular tunes mixed with the news. Wending his way around the tables, Lee saw a quartet of young men at a corner table. The tallest of the four nudged his fellows and jerked his head in Lee\u2019s direction. They stood, leaving behind half-empty cups of tea, and approached him. The man in the lead balled his fists, while the others dug into pockets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee breathed deep, sucking in the chi<\/em> in the air, drawing it into his navel, his lower tant\u2019ien. <\/em>It wasn\u2019t much, but combined with what he already had, it was more than enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, who do we have here?\u201d the tall one called in Liangkuanghua,the unofficial lingua franca of Sum Kong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were dressed in the working class fashions of the day. Light jacket, cotton shirt, heavy-duty pants and chunky shoes. Bulges emerged from hips and pockets, resembling knuckledusters and daggers. The leader had a tiny revolver shoved in his waistband pointed at his crotch. They had maybe one weapon each. By the Guild\u2019s standards, they were embarrassingly underarmed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m just here for breakfast,\u201d Lee replied in the same language, shifting his accent to match their abbreviated street tones. His right hand rested lightly on his hip, close to the butt of his Webster Mk IV revolver.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sneered. \u201cYou sure you\u2019re in the right place, jaapjung<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Mongrel\u2019, he had called him. Mixed blood. If Ethan Lee had but a peso for every time he\u2019d heard that word, he\u2019d have retired long ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Blading the right side of his body to them, he glanced around the room. Bystanders were headed out the door. Those sitting down eased away. Others averted their eyes but not their ears, their hands dropping to weapons. The people who knew him either backed up against the walls or made themselves scarce. No sense catching a stray bullet, or more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Crackling, bristling chi <\/em>filled the room, full of potential. His own chi <\/em>swelled in his body, in his legs and fists. He retracted his chi<\/em>, coiling it like a spring, compacting it so no one could steal it, yet keeping it loose enough to respond.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo sign outside that says I can\u2019t eat here,\u201d Lee said calmly. \u201cThe owner doesn\u2019t object to my presence either.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Their chi<\/em> was flaring red-hot, aggressive but unfocused. They liked to think of themselves as tough guys. That was the point of this confrontation, impressing onlookers and building a reputation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee had killed harder men than these.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The lead troublemaker palmed a balled fist with a grin. \u201cWe<\/em> say you can\u2019t eat here, jaapjung<\/em>. The Guild is only for hayen<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEh, boy! You know who you\u2019re talking to? He fought against the bakgwai <\/em>in the I Chuan Uprising. What have you<\/em> done? He\u2019s more of a hayen<\/em> than you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The crowd parted, revealing a grandfather, his back straight and voice clear, wiping his hands on his greasy apron.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee bowed to him. \u201cLam-gong, jousahn<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr Lam chuckled. \u201cSee? He has more manners than you. And while his father might be a bakgwai<\/em>, Detective Sergeant Thomas was a good<\/em> man. He treated everyone fairly, hayen <\/em>or bakgwai<\/em>. And Lee does the same. He\u2019s always welcome in my<\/em> Guild, in my <\/em>tea hall. What can you say for yourself, boy<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ethan Thomas Lee allowed his jacket to part, revealing a wink of his revolver\u2019s grip. The quartet\u2019s chi<\/em> fled, leaving a thin, ghostly white pallor floating around them. Especially the leader. \u201cI, uh, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think you can find a cha teng<\/em> more to your liking down on 18th Street,\u201d Lee said quietly. \u201cThat\u2019s where all the hayen<\/em> go, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The four men exchanged glances. The boss jerked his head at the door, and they marched out. The crackling chi <\/em>went with them, and the air lightened. Bystanders returned to their business. Hands drifted away from weapons, and he followed. Lee relaxed his chi<\/em>, letting it flow freely again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you, Lam-gung.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He waved his words away, looking down slightly. \u201cKids these days. When I was their age I knew my manners. Someone has to set them straight before they do something stupid. Come, let me take you to your seat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They occupied the table where the four once sat. \u201cStandards must be slipping,\u201d Lee said. \u201cWe never had trouble like that before.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lam sighed. \u201cThe Guild is expanding, and it needs money. These days, they\u2019re accepting anyone who can afford the membership fees and isn\u2019t a member of a secret society. Idiots like them are becoming more commonplace.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s gonna bite Management in the arse someday.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIndeed. But come. You didn\u2019t come all the way here just to talk about our internal politics, did you?\u201d Lam grabbed the menu from its holder, pushing it towards Lee. \u201cCome, tell me what you want. We\u2019ve expanded the menu since you were here last.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The menu was indeed thicker and larger than before.  It even had clear photographs of some of the more popular meals. Including…<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re serving Western food now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This close to the kitchen, he could smell the grease and the sizzling pork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cTimes change. Tastes change. Nowadays, with the bakgwai<\/em> coming back, every cha teng<\/em> must have bakgwai<\/em> food. Even in the Risk taker\u2019s Guild.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cIn that case, I must try your Western breakfast.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At a full liang, it was twice as expensive as the dearest local breakfast and out of the reach of most workingmen. But a man only lives so long, and risk takers weren\u2019t ordinary workers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCoffee or tea?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGreen tea.\u201d He couldn\u2019t stand coffee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lam nodded. \u201cExcellent. By the way\u2026there\u2019s a job available. Just for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trust Lam to kill several birds with one stone. In theory, the Jobs Hall was the heart of the Guild. The walls were lined with boards where posters advertised positions and skills. There was always work for people who knew how to handle themselves. But there were jobs, and there were jobs<\/em>. Some jobs were available only if you know the right people. Like Lam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat kind of job is it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lam tapped his fingers against the table in a ragged rhythm. \u201cA merchant is looking for caravan guards. He\u2019s going to the interior of the Northeast Province. Bandit territory. Some action is expected.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee raised an eyebrow. \u201cSounds like an ordinary job.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s looking for special talent. Someone who speaks Kuoy\u00fc or the northern dialects. Someone with experience guarding convoys and can be counted on to be discreet.\u201d A long pause. Lam looked into Lee\u2019s eyes. \u201cSomeone who knows wuchishu<\/em>.\u201d       <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The last phrase was in Kuoy\u00fc, the national language. It was a modern term, referring to the martial use of chi<\/em>. Lee\u2019s lips twitched. \u201cInteresting. Did he explain why?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cHe told me he\u2019s carrying valuable cargo\u2014no, he didn\u2019t say what it was\u2014and needs an edge against the bandits.\u201d Lam leaned forward. \u201cAnd another thing. There are rumours Yematai is sending spies across the border from Ch\u00fcsenkuo to stir up the local bandits and make life difficult.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJe do saat yan<\/em>?\u201d Meaning: borrowing a knife to kill someone. Or in this case, proxy war.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe. Yematai has always maintained that the Northeast Province belongs to them. I\u2019ve also heard that Yemai troops have been seen in the area, on the wrong side of the border. If an risk taker encountered a Yemai spy, and something unfortunate happened to the Yemai, I don\u2019t think the police or Imperial Guard will look too deeply into the matter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that right?\u201d Lee shrugged. \u201cWell, I\u2019ve never been to the Northeast before. Tell me about the client.\u201d Lam stood, clapping Lee\u2019s shoulder. \u201cCome, I\u2019ll get your food first. We talk later.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Since he\u2019d last been in the city, reconstruction and urban development had overridden his memories. Now a citywide steam tram service plied the streets, alongside rickshaws and steam cars, all of them imported, all of them driven by locals. When he was a child, most road traffic was velocipedes and sedan chairs and bullock carts. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[37],"tags":[102,138,143,253,341],"class_list":["post-6318","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-writing","tag-cultivation","tag-fiction","tag-free-story","tag-pulprev","tag-writing"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6318"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6318"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6318\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6318"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6318"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6318"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}