A Cruel Romance Vol 2 Chapter 9

Commander Ho began to question his own sanity.

“Why did I kill him?” he asked himself.

He didn’t know the answer. Now that Bai Su-Ch’en was six feet under feeding ants, an answer would be pointless even if he arrived at one.

He wouldn’t admit that he was remorseful, even though he was practically choking on remorse. Heavens knew how much he liked Bai. Even if Bai didn’t accept his love, it’d still be nice to see him occasionally and have some fun.

But now, because of a single, thoughtless pull of the trigger, the man Bai Su-Ch’en ceased to exist.

He couldn’t think too hard about it or he’d go mad. He didn’t dare to. Countless men had died by his hand. Such things were inconsequential. When a scythe was swung crops would fall, it was as simple as that, fair and logical. Yet somehow, this time around, Bai’s grievance hung heavy above him like an invisible cloud.

When he lay between sleep and wakefulness at night, he was frequented by the dim impression that someone else was in the room with him. The man paced soundlessly before his bed in a light-coloured suit, looking trim and dashing. He stopped to bend down and look upon Commander Ho. A voice rose: “Little Ch’i-Bao, how could you kill me?” Red and white erupted from his head and dripped down his face.

Commander Ho shot up in bed. “Hsiao-Shun!”

An army cot creaked outside. “Chi-yeh.”

“Come in here!”

Hsiao-Shun stepped into his slippers and hurried into the room, switching on the lights on his way.

Commander Ho sat in bed, his face a deathly pale. He was drenched in cold sweat and his short hair stuck wetly to his forehead. He turned to look at Hsiao-Shun and discovered that the boy had grown into a strong young man.

The sight rea.s.sured him. “Come sleep inside.”

Hsiao-Shun didn’t asked for an explanation. He went back to roll up his bedclothes, then carried them and laid them down in a corner by the entrance. He shut the door and stood there.

Commander Ho had nothing else to say. He only wanted another man’s presence in the room so that the heavier yang would make him feel a bit braver.

“Turn off the lights, go to sleep.”

He pulled back his covers and lay down. Darkness fell, and the sounds of shifting and shuffling soon turned to silence.

Commander Ho closed his eyes.

“Little Ch’i-Bao.” Bai’s head raptured with a pop. His voice remained. “Give me back my head.”

Just when Hsiao-Shun was slipping into sleep, Commander Ho’s sudden cry jolted him awake.

Commander Ho sat panting in bed. “Turn—turn on the lights!”

Hsiao-Shun sprang up and switched on the lights. “Ch’i-yeh?”

Commander Ho jumped out of bed and paced barefooted on the ground. Since his face was colorless, his brows and eyes appeared even darker than usual. His eyes were turbulent, bottomless ponds. Some untold mystery churned a thousand of feet under the surface, but up above, only ripples remained.

“Is there someone else in the room?” he asked quietly.

Hsiao-Shun was slightly baffled. “No?”

Commander Ho kneeled before the bed. He pulled back the silk sheets and looked under the bed, then stood up and opened both the closet and the dresser. When he finally concluded his fruitless search, he sat back down on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Hsiao-Shun,” he patted the s.p.a.ce next to him. “Come sleep up here.”

Hsiao-Shun faltered, thinking he’d misheard.

To make room for Hsiao-Shun, Commander Ho tugged his down pillow to the side. The movement exposed a pair of pistols and a white porcelain urn. He tucked the pistols back under the pillow and held up the urn. “You’re just watching him scare me,” he said bitterly. “Why aren’t you helping? I may be afraid of him, but what’s a dead man got to be afraid of?”

He spat at the white urn and shoved it back under his pillow.

Hsiao-Shun made his way to the bed, his own pillow and blanket in arms. He stood there hesitantly, not daring to lay his things down. Commander Ho didn’t spare him any further attention and settled down himself. He waited for a while, then seeing that Hsiao-Shun was still standing there, finally snapped crossly: “Turn off the lights and get the f.u.c.k in!”

With both terror and curiosity, Hsiao-Shun lay next to Commander Ho.

Commander Ho tossed and turned under the dim moonlight, and simply refused to shut his eyes and go to sleep in peace. Not only did he not go to sleep, he mumbled incomprehensibly, his tone sharp and almost threatening.

At the edge of the bed, Hsiao-Shun lay ramrod straight on his side. He shut his eyes and tried to get some rest, knowing that he wouldn’t catch any real sleep tonight. It didn’t matter to Commander Ho whether he slept or not, since he could sleep whenever he wanted during the day. It was a different matter for Hsiao-Shun—a full day of service and labour awaited him. There would be no time for naps.

He began to grow drowsy, eventually, when suddenly and like a live fish, Commander Ho dove under Hsiao-Shun’s blanket—or rather, he dove head first into Hsiao-Shun’s arms.

“Hold me, hold me!” Commander Ho demanded, trembling and drenched in sweat. He pressed his hot body into Hsiao-Shun’s.

Alarms went off in Hsiao-Shun’s head like sudden bells. Eyes wide and bright, he stared straight in front of him. Commander Ho wasn’t there. His sweaty head was pressed against Hsiao-Shun’s chin, his body nearly curled up into a ball.

As commanded, Hsiao-Shun reached out a hand and draped it loosely around Commander Ho’s back.

Commander Ho’d had trouble sleeping ever since Bai Su-Ch’en died. Between his fits of sleep and wakefulness, he was unable to get any real rest. Tonight, his suffering reached a climax.

He got out of the bed in the early hours of the day. Since he’d gotten a momentary reprieve with the help of Hsiao-Shun, for the very first time, it felt like he didn’t raise the boy in vain. He even resolved to be a bit kinder to him in the future.

He told the white porcelain urn: “even he’s better than you are, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!”

Once he’d washed up, he finished a large bowl of noodle soup anxiously and called over Feng Guo-Chung, giving him a set of instructions.

Unable to make much out of it, Feng departed to carry out his orders. Two hours later, he returned with three carfuls of Buddhist lamas. The orderlies sent out to buy incense and offerings for the dead also returned, and the two teams joined up as they headed to the grave site outside of town.

It wasn’t hard to find Bai Su-Chen’s grave, since he had a headstone and was buried recently. Commander Ho stood before it and had the men set up the offerings. Sighing, he said to the headstone: “Little Uncle, I didn’t take your life on purpose. I was caught up in the heat to the moment and pulled the trigger without thinking. Please, go on to wherever you’re supposed to be. What’s the point of staying behind to torment me? You can’t torment me to death, can you? I am genuinely sorry. Forgive me.”

Stepping back, he kneeled thrice and gave nine kowtows, the high tribute of a mourning son. Flames blazed as they burned the paper offerings. The lamas chanted the scriptures in an echoing rhythm, which actually sounded quite pleasant.

He went to bed in a blissful calm that night. Within the hour, he dove right back into Hsiao-Shun’s arms, drenched again in cold sweat.

He grew resentful. Since Bai refused to cooperate, he had no choice but to resort to brute force.

Feng understood the nature of his concerns, so he hired a few well-known local exorcists to take care of Commander Ho’s residence. The exorcists, knowing their employer, were especially diligent in their efforts. They called upon the powers of everything from Wong Tai Sin to fox and centipede spirits, and made quite a ghastly racket as they filled Commander Ho’s nice house with turbid mayhem. Pale-faced and wearing dark circles under his eyes, Commander Ho felt as if his chest was boiling. The blood gurgling and bubbling within him made him want to retch.

Once the exorcists left, he dared not wait for sunset and hurried to the nearest temple to invite a statue of Shakyamuni Buddha home.

Under the combined protection of exorcists, the Budda, and Hsiao-Shun, Commander Ho finally enjoyed a good night of sleep.

Feeling rested and refreshed, he got out of bed in the morning and kowtowed at the Buddha statue respectfully. “May the Buddha bless me and grant me safety,” he prayed in silence.

Since he had temporarily subdued Bai’s specter, Commander Ho could focus his efforts once again on his local subjugation plans.

He sent a message to Chao Chen-Sheng’s Anti-j.a.panese Resistance Alliance, declaring his stance and hoping that the other man would p.i.s.s off to resist the j.a.panese in Ji-An. Maddeningly, it turned out that Chao wasn’t actually stupid, and had seen through his schemes right away.

Chao gave him the following reply: “Jehol is a part of the Republic of China’s territory, not Manchukuo’s. I can either incorporate you or run you off. It’s up to you.”

Commander Ho nearly blew a fuse. Before he could respond, the Resistance Alliance already opened fire on Longhua.

Commander Ho sent out reinforcements immediately. When things began to look grim, he got on the concrete platform in the main camp and lectured the entirety of his army.

Through a loudspeaker set to the highest volume, Commander Ho’s voice reverberated through the camp. “If we win, you will get three days to plunder freely. If we lose, do not expect any leniency from me! You should already understand what you’ll have to do. I’ll tell you this: while you serve under the Garrison Army—extortion, thievery, gambling, whoring—you get to live like royalty, do whatever you want. Once the Garrison Army falls, do you think you’ll still enjoy this sort of privilege? Or find another commander as accommodating as I am? Only in your dreams!”

The soldiers listened in silence, knowing that their smooth-faced commander was speaking the truth.

At the end of the lecture, Commander Ho had a few hog-tied officers ushered onto the platform.

“You must all know who these are,” Commander Ho said.

The men stared up at the platform, recognizing a few officers from the Ordinance Department.

“These here b.a.s.t.a.r.ds,” Commander Ho continued, “sold ammunition to the Resistance Alliance in secret. The bullets that cost us thirty pence each were being resold for fifteen pence! Every coin in the Garrison Army’s treasury were earned by the very lives of our comrades, and these brats not only lined their own pockets with dishonest money, they were doing it at a f.u.c.king loss! The Resistance Alliance are all laughing at us fools! This is a crime beyond redemption! Guards! Light these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds up!”

They gagged and drenched the officers in cooking oil. Tied them to tall poles and set their feet on fire. Their screams were stuck in their throats, and they only let out a few strange noises that sounded like the squeals of butchered pigs.

Commander Ho stood to the side and observed the proceedings with some interest, his left hand hugging his chest and his right hand rubbing his chin. The soldiers, too, watched avidly, speculating which of the sorry b.a.s.t.a.r.ds would last the longest.

The sudden crack of gunfire tore through the air.

Used to hearing the sound of gunshots, the soldiers didn’t even react and only stared dumbly at Commander Ho, whose right hand jerked up before he fell over with a thud.

A moment later, the yelping crowd erupted into movement. Guards surged forth to envelope Commander Ho, and a battalion of heavily armed soldiers surrounded the meeting place, yelling at everyone to stay still. Amidst the chaos, Commander Ho struggled to his feet and appeared to be mostly unharmed, though the white glove on his hand was soaked red with blood.

He clutched his wrist with his left hand, gasping in pain. Behind the human shield formed by his guards, he hurried off the platform and headed for the clinic.

They caught the a.s.sa.s.sin right away, but he shot himself before they could hold him down and extract any useful information. Commander Ho found out later that the man’s brother was killed by the Resistance Alliance, and decided that it must have been the j.a.panese behind the a.s.sa.s.sination.

Had the bullet struck an inch higher, it would have gone right into his skull.

Commander Ho’s right hand was wrapped in bandages and dangling in front of his chest. There was a transparent hole in his palm.It will close off eventually, but he didn’t know if it would leave him with any long-term issues.

Kneeling in front of the Buddha statue, he balanced himself on a single arm, touched his forehead to the ground, and thanked the Buddha for protection.