An Inch of Ashes (Chung Kuo)(51)

It took him twenty minutes.

‘It seems my luck has changed,' he said, meeting Heng's eyes; seeing at once how angry the other man was with himself, for he had made it seem as though victory were the Han's, only to snatch it away at the last moment. ‘I was fortunate to draw that last card.'

He saw what it cost Heng to keep back the words that almost came to his lips and knew he had him.

‘Anyway...' he added quickly, ‘I really should go now. I thank you for your hospitality, Heng Chian-ye. Settle with me when you will. You know where to find me.' He pushed his chair back from the table and got to his feet.

‘Wait!'

Heng was leaning forward, his hand extended towards Sergey.

‘Surely you won't go now, Shih Novacek? As you yourself said... your luck has changed. Why, then, do you hurry from your fortune? Surely you aren't afraid, my friend?'

Sergey stared back at him. ‘Afraid?'

Heng leaned back, a faint smile coming to his lips. ‘Yes. Afraid.' He hesitated, then, ‘I'll play you again, Shih Novacek. One final game. But this time we'll make the stakes worth playing for. Two hundred thousand. No. Two fifty thousand.'

Sergey looked about him at the watching Han, seeing the tension in every face. This was no longer about the money; for Heng it was now a matter of pride  –  of face.

He sat, placing his hands firmly on the edge of the table, looking back at Heng, fixing him in his gaze, his manner suddenly different  –  harder, almost brutal in its challenge.

‘All right. But not for two fifty. Let's have no half-measures between us, Heng Chian-ye. If I play you, I play you for a million. Understand me?'

There were low gasps from all round the table, then a furious murmur of voices. But Heng seemed unaware of the hubbub that surrounded him. He sat there, staring back fixedly at Sergey, his eyes wide, as if in shock. His hands were trembling now, his brow beaded with sweat.

‘Well?'

Unable to find his voice, Heng nodded.

‘Good.' Sergey leaned forward and took the cards, then, surprising them all, handed them to Yi. ‘You deal, Yi Shan-ch'i. I want no one to say that this was not a fair game.'

He saw Heng's eyes widen at that. Saw realization dawn in Heng's frightened face.

So now you know.

He kept his face a mask, yet inwardly he was exulting. I've got you now, you bastard. Got you precisely where I wanted you. A million. Yes, it was more than Heng Chian-ye had. More than he could possibly borrow from his friends. He would have no alternative. If he lost he would have to go to his uncle.


Heng Yu turned in his seat, dismissing the servant, then went outside into the anteroom. Heng Chian-ye knelt there, on the far side of the room, his head bowed low, his forehead touched almost to the tiled floor. He crossed the room, then stood over the young man, looking down at him.

‘What is it, cousin?'

Heng Chian-ye stayed as he was. ‘Forgive me, Uncle Yu, but I have the most grave request to make of you.'

Heng Yu, Minister of Transportation for Li Shai Tung and Head of the Heng family, pulled at his beard, astonished. Chian-ye was fourteen years his junior, the youngest son of his uncle, the former Minister, Heng Chipo, who had passed away eleven years ago. Several times over the past five yearsd hwidtablhe was. he had been forced to bail the boy out when he had been in trouble, but all that had changed six months back, when Chian-ye had come into his inheritance. Now that he had his own income, Chian-ye had been a much rarer visitor at his Uncle Yu's house.

‘A grave request? At this hour, Chian-ye? Do you know what time it is? Can it not wait until the morning?'

Heng Chian-ye made a small, miserable movement of his head. ‘I would not have come, Uncle, were it not a matter of the utmost urgency.'

Heng Yu frowned, confused, his head still full of figures from the report he had been studying.

‘What is it, Chian-ye? Is someone ill?'

But he knew, even as he said it, that it was not that. Fu Hen would have come with such news, not Chian-ye. Unless... He felt himself go cold.

‘It isn't Fu Hen, is it?'

Heng Chian-ye raised his head the tiniest bit. ‘No, Honoured Uncle. No one is ill.'

Heng Yu sighed with relief, then leaned closer. ‘Have you been drinking, Chian-ye?'

‘I...' Then, astonishingly, Chian-ye burst into tears. Chian-ye, who had never so much as expressed one word of remorse over his own wasteful lifestyle, in tears! Heng Yu looked down at where Chian-ye's hand gripped the hem of his pau and shook his head. His voice was suddenly forceful; the voice of a Minister commanding an underling.

‘Heng Chian-ye! Remember who you are! Look at you! Crying like a four-year-old! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?'

‘Forgive me, Uncle! I cannot help it! I have disgraced our noble family. I have lost a million yuan!'

Heng Yu fell silent. Then he gave a small laugh of disbelief.

‘Surely I heard you wrong, Chian-ye? A million yuan?'

But a tiny nod of Chian-ye's bowed head confirmed it. A million yuan had been lost. Probably at the gaming table.

Heng Yu looked about him at the cold formality of the anteroom, at its mock pillars and the tiny bronze statues of gods that rested in the alcoves to either side, the unreality of it all striking him forcibly. Then he shook his head. ‘It isn't possible, Chian-ye. Even you cannot have lost that much, surely?'

But he knew that it was. Nothing less would have brought Chian-ye here. Nothing less would have reduced him to such a state.

Heng Yu sighed, his irritation mixed with a sudden despair. Was he never to be free of his uncle's failings? First that business with Lwo Kang, and now this. As if the father were reborn in his wastrel son  –  to blight the family's fortunes with his carelessness and selfishness.

For now he would have to borrow to carry out his schemes. Would have to take that high-interest loan Shih Saxton had offered him. A million yuan! He cursed silently, then drew away, irritably freeing his pau from his cousin's grasp.

‘Come into the study, Chian-ye, and tell me what has happened.'

He sat behind his great ministerial desk, his face stern, listening to Chian-ye's story. When his cousin finished, he sat there silently, considering. Finally he looked back at Chian-ye, shaking his head.

‘You have been a foolish young man, Chian-ye. First you overstretched yourself. That was bad enough. But then... well, to promise something that was not yours to promise, that was... insufferable.'

He saw how Chian-ye blushed and hung his head at that. So there is some sense of rightness in you, he thought. Some sense of shame.

‘However,' he continuitao;m">He sawed, heartened by the clear sign of his cousin's shame, ‘you are family, Chian-ye. You are Heng.' He pronounced the word with a pride that made his cousin look up and meet his eyes, surprised.

‘Yes. Heng. And the word of a Heng must be honoured, whether given mistakenly or otherwise.'

‘You mean...?'

Heng Yu's voice hardened. ‘I mean, cousin, that you will be silent and listen to me!'

Heng Chian-ye lowered his head again, chastened; his whole manner subservient now.

‘As I was saying. The word of a Heng must be honoured. So, yes, Chian-ye, I shall meet Shih Novacek's conditions. He shall have the Ko Ming bronze in settlement for your debt. As for the information he wanted, you can do that for yourself, right now. The terminal is over there, in the corner. However... there are two things you will do for me.'

Chian-ye raised his head slightly, suddenly attentive.

‘First you will sign over half of your annual income, to be placed in a trust that will mature only when you are thirty.'

Chian-ye hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod.

‘Good. And, second, you will resign your membership to The Jade Peony.'

Heng Chian-ye looked up, astonished. ‘But, Uncle...?' Then, seeing the angry determination in Heng Yu's face, he lowered his eyes. ‘As you say, Uncle Yu.'

‘Good,' Heng Yu said, more kindly now that it was settled. ‘Then go to the terminal. You know how to operate it. The codes are marked to the right. But ask me if you must. I shall be here a few hours yet, finishing my reports.'

He watched Chian-ye go to the terminal, then sat back, smoothing at his beard with his left hand, his right hand resting on the desk. A million yuan! That, truly, would have been disastrous. But this... this deal. He smiled. Yes, it was a gods-given opportunity to put a bit and brace on his reckless cousin  –  to school him to self-discipline. And the price? One ugly bronze worth, at most, two hundred thousand, and a small snippet of information on a fellow student!

He nodded, strangely pleased with the way things had turned out, then picked up the report again. He was about to push it into the slot behind his ear when Chian-ye turned, looking across at him.

‘Uncle Yu?'

‘Yes, Chian-ye?'

‘There seems to be no file.'

Heng Yu laughed, then stood, coming round his desk. ‘Of course there's a file, Chian-ye. There's a file on everyone in Chung Kuo. You must have keyed the code incorrectly.'

He stared at the screen. INFORMATION NOT AVAILABLE, it read.





‘Here,' he said, taking the scrap of paper from his cousin's hand. ‘Let me see those details.'


He stopped dead, staring at the name that was written on the paper, then laughed uncomfortably.

‘Is something wrong, Uncle Yu?'