Hok climbed into the skiff and looked away. “I'd rather not talk about it.”
“No?” Ying asked, curious. “Not even a little?”
“No.”
Ying decided to let it go. He and Hok had traveled in relative silence the entire time. No reason to go and ruin a good thing by asking her a bunch of questions.
Ying jumped out of the skiff onto the bank and gave the boat a big push to free it from the mud. He scrambled back aboard, and they set a course south down the Grand Canal, toward Xuzhou.
Hok took the first shift working the oar. Once they reached the center of the canal, she lashed it in place and let the canal's gentle current carry them downstream. She went over to Ying's side and began to silently rewrap the dressing on his injured shoulder.
Ying watched Hok work. The more she helped him, the less he thought about getting rid of her. She had had plenty of opportunities to take his life, or simply let his life slip away, but she hadn't done so. If she wasn't a threat, perhaps he should just let her remain with him. Of all his former brothers, it seemed it was his sister who might understand him most. It made sense, because she had grown up an outsider, too. First as a girl pretending to be a boy, and now as the pale-skinned, brown-haired daughter of a Chinese woman and a round eye.
Ying looked away. It seemed there were now round eyes everywhere, especially in the large cities. The foreigners brought trade, and trade brought money.
Ying couldn't help but think about Tonglong. Tong long had a taste for life's finer things and had al ways admired people with money. Ying had seen it firsthand. Ying recalled how upset Tonglong had been about his burning the map. Ying had never dreamed that Tonglong might have been interested in the dragon scrolls from the very beginning, maybe even before they attacked Cangzhen Temple. Ying had wanted the scrolls so that he could learn dragon-style kung fu. Tonglong had wanted them for other reasons.
Ying assumed that Tonglong must have heard the rumors that floated around the fight clubs about a secret dragon scroll map that led to a dragon's hoard of treasure. Most people assumed that it was a bottomless pile of gold and jewels, but those with more intimate knowledge knew that it was so much more. Beyond an impressive collection of precious metal and stones was supposedly something far more valuable. It was said that the treasure also included four legendary white jade swords and a set of white jade armor. Whoever wielded one of the four swords and also wore the armor was believed to be the rightful heir to the Emperor's throne.
Ying was certain his former brothers and sister knew nothing of these rumors surrounding the dragon scroll map. Otherwise, they would never have shown it to him. While Ying was upset that the remaining dragon training scrolls seemed to be out of his reach, he was hopeful that the treasure would somehow bring him closer to his inner dragon. With the map burned in his memory, all he needed was time to collect it.
An image of Charles suddenly flashed into Ying's mind. Ying wondered how much time would pass before the round eye took action. Charles didn't seem to be the type to sit around long. Without word from Hok, Charles would go looking for her. He probably had a boat and, based on what Ying had seen back at the safe house, he had a lot of friends.
Ying would have to keep an eye out for Charles and any other foreigner. It would be bad enough if Ying accidentally led Tonglong to the treasure. It would be unthinkable for him to lead a foreigner to it.
Charles boarded his sleek sloop behind PawPaw's house, wondering what he was about to get himself into. He set down the last box of supplies beneath the vessel's single mast and stared at the shadow his wide shoulders cast across the deck in the light of the brilliant full moon.
Hok had been gone an entire week, and they hadn't heard a word from her. It was time to take matters into his own hands.
Up the hill, Charles could hear Fu, Malao, and Seh inside PawPaw's house, celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival. They were eating moon cakes and laughing as PawPaw sang high-pitched, nasally songs and played some sort of traditional stringed instrument that sounded like cats shrieking.
According to Charles’ calendar, it was the middle of September, and back in Holland people would be celebrating this Harvest Moon any number of ways. He didn't feel like celebrating anything, though. Not only was Hok missing, he had never quite fit in since bringing Fu, Malao, and Seh here after Tong-long's attack in Jinan. PawPaw was very gracious and he got along just fine with her, but the others hadn't accepted him. They told him that he should have remained with his “foreign” friends back in Jinan.
Charles glanced at the simple Chinese peasant's robe and pants he'd been wearing for weeks. He did look rather silly in them. It was what the locals wore. He didn't enjoy dressing this way; it was simply all he had been able to acquire. He longed to put on a normal shirt and pants. The rough cotton and heavy seams of this robe had rubbed his armpits raw. The only good part about the outfit was the large pocket that formed where the rigid robe cloth met the tight waist sash. It provided him with a place to keep his matching pistols, or “short qiangs,” as the Chinese called them.