Page 16 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
Something else catches the soldiers’ attention—men brawling or fighting, a distraction, doesn’t matter. Most of them peel away. Two keep pursuit, calling out lewd taunts that strike a chill in Mei Chi’s heart. She needs a direction, she can’t flee aimlessly like this.
Keep running, or the past will catch up and kill you, she thinks. Keep running, or you’ll die in the present.
Ahead, she spots the cluster of buildings that Li Fan—who did not deserve such an end—pointed out earlier. Fine, that will do. Anywhere that isn’t here is all she wants. Circle around to the left, just a few blocks away.
She can see it. A sunken mess of low-rise buildings, decaying and decrepit. The shape of the old fort still visible, some of the walls crumbling and some of them partially rebuilt. Slums fester within, the shadows and leaning frames beckoning Mei Chi with their promise of no soldiers, no bullets through brains.
So close. She casts a glance over one shoulder. The two men who were still chasing her have stopped, looking disgruntled. They know where she is headed, and don’t care to follow.
For the moment, Mei Chi is too relieved to worry about what that means.
She crosses the boundary, leaping feetfirst into darkness.
6THE COUNCILWOMAN
August 20, 1975
In the distance, Kowloon receded like an outgoing tide.
The rooftops of gray-and-beige buildings, just visible over the tall dust-colored wall which encircled them, were melting into the clinging smog. A haze of pollution softened harsh lines and tiny figures. Electric lights glinted dimly in shadowed buildings, as if winking goodbye.
Crammed in the backseat of a red Toyota, with Cobra Lily on one side and a grimy window on the other, Mercy watched her home disappear. The sight filled her with a rising panic. The fact that three other triad cars were following close behind them did nothing to soften her anxiety.
She wished, yet again, that Bao could come with her. But the ghost cat had to stay behind for this trip; no spirits allowed in civic buildings. Anyway, he’d only have hated it out here. Bright sunlight made him weak, kept him the size of a kitten.
“Remind me again, Chan.” Cobra Lily shook out a cigarette and lit it, the waft of tobacco and tar overpowering in that small space. “When was the last time you took a trip outside of Kowloon?”
“Never, boss.”
“What, really?”
“Came here, stayed here, never left.”
“That’s a long time to be in such a small neighborhood!” Cobra Lily laughed her tiger laugh. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be glad for a change of scenery. I do love coming to the city, when I can.”
Mercy looked out the window and didn’t reply.
She’d spent the past thirty-plus years living shoulder-to-shoulder with her fellow denizens among the claustrophobic high-rise buildings, circled by its wartime wall and walking its multi-layered streets whose gutters flowed like a blocked nose. Where children played along narrow, sewage-stained sidewalks lined with tiny shops and smoky eateries selling cigarettes or fish balls, while hidden opium dens folded between mazed passages within bigger buildings—a total firetrap—and everyone paid the triad dues to travel safely at night. Where the wet markets ran slick with guts and blood, chicken feathers tangled in canopies ofwires amidst the steady drip of leaking pipes, and fu talismans of warding were nailed on every door to keep out hostile spirits.
That, to her, was home. A familiar, safe place, with its warren of narrow alleys and hot damp concrete on all sides.
The other face of Hong Kong, that she was now being driven through, looked very different. Out here: strips of prickly trees, half-built boulevards, endless construction, big asphalt roads. High-rise buildings, yes, but the streets were wide enough for cars and pedestrians to travel easily. Space to breathe, move, think, stretch a limb or two, sometimes catch the sun.
Same as in Kowloon, preparations were underway out here for Hungry Ghost Festival. The temples surged with crowds, all keen to come for prayers and fu talismans. Street markets displayed charms, fans, incense, and paper gifts to burn for the underworld. Almost no one was wearing red, andno onewas wearing black. Such colors attracted spirits, this time of year.
It was all very pretty, and far less derelict than what she was used to in Kowloon. If only that sky didn’t make her feel so overwhelmed and exposed.
Mercy leaned her head against the window and swallowed against a rising sense of nausea. Either she was getting carsick or homesick, and both were pathetic reactions. She needed to get her shit together, and not embarrass her boss. It was crucial they make a good impression.
In truth, Mercy had always intended to move back out to the main city. All the opportunities, as they say, were in the bigger half. But in the early years, the raging war and its desolate aftermath made it safer to stay put in Kowloon. Later, poverty and lack of means kept her pinned. Inertia and habit did the rest.
These days, her skin had filled up with triad tattoos, while her bank account had filled up with triad money. She enjoyed the intimacy of knowing her neighborhood thoroughly, of having a hard-won place and purpose. The district had grown, and she had grown with it. Now, at fifty-three years of age, Mercy knew only Kowloon.
The cars entered the Cross Harbor Tunnel, and darkness surrounded them. Mercy tried not to flinch. The idea of beingunderthe ocean appalled her a little, especially since these tunnels had only been open a few years. You couldn’t really be sure how safe they were, she felt.
“May I ask a question?” she said, as much to distract herself as anything. “I know it is a serious matter, boss, but this has been tried before. The government never seems to get anywhere. Demolition doesn’t ever happen, and Kowloon endures. Why the concern this time?”
“That is true, it has been tried many times before.” Cobra Lily picked atsome invisible thread on her sleeve. “But this application, with all its costs and careful graphs, is the furthest I’ve seen anyone go.”
