An American Executive travels to China to solve the mystery of funds drainage from the company he works for.
Once in Shanghai, he finds himself tangled into a world of mysticism, into a world of traditions going back hundreds of years, into a world of philosophical meanings meant to close cosmological paths and previously set destinies.
Action, romance, drama, humor, History, Geography and Philosophy – they all come together in an attempt to blend the dynamic western way of life onto the rich Chinese culture and uncanny traditions.
Once he reached his floor, he decided to not even look at his neighbors’ door – as he was usually doing it. There was a little problem though: this time, the door was cracked open again. His insatiably curiosity made him look. For the first few minutes, he limited his curiosity to taking a peek inside – as much as the opening of the door allowed him. However, there was not much to see…the place where the large man was doing his meditation was empty, but the white tatami he was using was still in the same place, on the ground. The same unknown to him scent hit his nostrils. The smell was so powerful yet delicate, noble and intriguing that made John push the door open even more. Now he had a better view of the whole living room. As the room was almost dark (just partially lit by few candles), John realized that the layout was similar to his apartment. Soon, he figured out that those burning candles were releasing the smells which for now were completely making his mind forget about the dream, forget about his desire to end the adventure and the investigation. But in the same time these unknown scents, unwillingly were luring him to venture into a territory he did not know, into a land he would rather avoid stepping onto, a land made of quick sands ready to swallow you at the first mistake you were making. He wiped the sweat which was flooding his forehead with his sleeve and decided to enter. First few steps were similar to the steps a cat makes when in a hunt for a mouse…cautious, very slow paced, with large timing intervals between them. Judging by the movements he was making, one would say that John was a professional criminal entering a future murder scene. He was slowly advancing towards the center of the room when the dancing shadows on the walls, magnified by their own reflections into the large window, made him stop. A large and strange thing was hanging against the wall. John couldn’t figure out what was it, but the size of it made him tremble with fear. The lights were dancing like ghosts while the scents in the room were making his sense of smell play mind games on him. His whole attention was now focused on the immense dark spot on the wall. His initial guess was that it was a hunting trophy. However, the playful shadows were enticing his mind to think at mystic scenarios; the doubt and the fear were now encompassing his judgement. All of a sudden, a noise came from the bathroom area. He realized that when he entered the apartment, he ignored a light which was curiously stretching underneath the bathroom door. He turned around. There was somebody in the bathroom and judging by the noise coming out of there, the person was taking a shower. His attention was now completely switched towards that direction. There was so much mystery lurking around: an opened door, a hanging creature on the wall and a person taking a shower! All these, made John grasp for air while still standing in the middle of the living room.
Unexpectedly, the bathroom door opened up. A woman wrapped into a magnificently embroidered silk bath robe was now standing into the door frame, playing with her long black hair. In a swift yet delicate motion, she brought her beautiful flowing hair on one of the shoulders, so most of it was now running down her left shoulder and resting over her left chest. The robe was so light that all her forms were revealed. The roundness of her breasts, the tightness of the waist and the slim shape of her thighs were now playing a magnificent spectacle in front of John’s eyes. With delicate and flowing motions, she continued to strike her hair, apparently in an attempt to make it softer, to make it more appealing and sexier to the viewer. She knew exactly how to tickle John’s imagination. It was the mysterious woman he met on the night when he checked in, the same woman he greatly admired in the restaurant at the breakfast. Even now, when she was barely wearing clothing, John couldn’t help but notice that all her gestures and movements were carefully paced, measured and methodically repeated under a set timing and rhythm. John could see the water running into the shower cabin and he figured out that the woman was preparing to get in. Slowly, she turned around, dropped the robe and entered the cabin enticingly leaving the door open. The water started running down her shoulders and soon a white wave of body shampoo foam (which was magnificently contrasting with her tanned skin), made its way onto the shoulders, then encompassed the hips, kissed the buttocks, and finally circled around the thighs and the legs. It looked like a white snake was trying to wrap her shoulders into his coils and then was working his way down her body slowly grabbing her hips with a vice like grip. The smell of that shampoo, hit John’s nostrils immediately: it was the same captivating scent as the one produced by the candles. The scene was breathtaking and it became even more alluring: the woman turned around and her whole femininity splendor was now fully exposed. John felt how his Adam’s apple was sliding up and down until finally got stuck into a position which betrayed a severe emotional distress. He was now contemplating a piece of art, a charming symbiosis between perfect shapes, skin tan and overall proportions. Her big, black, slanted eyes were looking at John with the eyes of a feline which is monitoring her prey: methodical, focused, intensive, potent and diligent, not leaving anything to the chance or to anything else that could alter the result of the hunt. She was stunning, to say the least! And to make things even worse (for John), she started washing her body with slow and calculated circular motions, from the shoulders then down to her artistically sculptured breasts. The white foamy lotion brought by her skilled hands to the breasts was greatly contrasting with her tanned skin and dark brown nipples, thus providing a spectacle which he was not prepared to watch, a spectacle to which he was not ready to participate, an unexpected show about beauty, perfect shapes and unmatched contrasts.
-She is beautiful, isn’t she, John?
John felt how instantly his spine froze, how his face was tingling from the same cold currents sent by his brain (which was trying to signal that without any doubt is under enormous stress), how all the events of the day were fast tracking now in front of his eyes like shadows, like personages of a play with many actors wandering around without knowing whose line is whose.
He turned around and realized that the man standing behind him was the same individual he saw the first time through the cracked door and then into the restaurant together with the woman who was now showering in front of him. This man was massive…not as tall as John was, but the broad shoulders and the thickness of the arms and the neck made John believe that the man he was facing was or still is a heavy weight judoka or a wrestler or a martial arts guru. To make things even worse, he was standing right below the thing John intuitively assumed it was a hunting trophy. The opened door of the bathroom was allowing enough light to illuminate the creature on the wall…it was indeed the head of a formidably massive hart. The span of the horns must’ve been at least six feet from tip to tip. John’s palms were all sweaty. The man of the house and the trophy were now almost aligned making the scene hilarious – if it wouldn’t have been dramatic. It was almost like the gentleman who entered the room was wearing a hat with two massive antlers. John tried to sketch a smile, but he realized that he was the last person in that room to be in a position to do so. John’s interlocutor moved slowly on the side towards the middle of the living room and lit up the remaining of the candles. Soon, that profound and delicate, yet invasive and alluring smell was making John feel like he was welcomed, feel like he was the expected guest of the house for the Saturday night dinner. The room was now lit up at a level at which John could guess the decorations hanging on the walls…and there was plenty of them! He realized that the room was full of paintings and framed photos. One particular painting drew his attention: it was a fighting scene between two armies. However, the light did not have enough intensity so he couldn’t pick all the details. Nevertheless, something was telling him that he saw that painting somewhere. His investigative mind started right away to process this information, but he couldn’t exactly point in time when he saw the painting…his mind even considered the fact that he has never seen it and maybe it is just his imagination playing games on him right now; imagination based on the many stories he has heard since landing in Shanghai, or maybe even based on the dream he had. His brain was trying to absorb and put in order so much information, so many unusual events, all of them leading to…leading to what? He had a job to finish. Unfortunately his task got tangled and hijacked by this unusual story about late Ming Dynasty and this feud (which has been stretching over so many centuries) getting somehow anchored into his assignment and thus making it so much more difficult to take it to the end.
-Sit down, John! The big fellow in front of him showed John the white tatami on the floor. He realized that the man wanted to have a discussion with him. He hesitated. Something was telling him to stay on guard. His host smiled:
-John…if I wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead by now. Please, sit!
John took his shoes off and entered the tatami; a deep bow of his interlocutor (a sign of respect and thank you), made him understand that he did the right thing when removing the shoes. Both of them were now standing on the tatami. A slight sign (a stretched hand pointing to the floor), invited John to have a seat. There were no chairs, so he realized that he has to take the well-known lotus position, which he did. A slight and barely perceptible head tilt from the opposite side, let John know that his efforts are appreciated.
John’s attention switched to a particular area of the wall: it was the one which was close to the large glass wall facing Huangpu River. In spite of the obscure lighting, he realized that a weapons collection was hanging on the wall. It wasn’t hard to figure out that few swords, a shield, few lances, a bow, a quiver of arrows and few other shorter swords and long knives actually represented a whole arsenal which must have belonged to a warrior. “So, this guy is a warrior. What if he is just a collector?”
He wanted to ask his interlocutor if those were real weapons but didn’t get that far, as the man in front of him, with calm and deep tonality in his voice dissipated any doubt from his mind:
-Yes, John. They are real…they are very real and they are very sharp.
Latest few words fell like a hammer over John. He took it as a threat: “they are very sharp”. Cold sweat was now again running down his temples, over the cheeks, only to meet at the chin level and finally drip on the tatami in front of him. He didn’t know what to expect from the big fella and most of all, he started believing that the man sitting in the lotus position could read minds…this was troubling him.
All of a sudden, a melodious voice behind him asked a question which made John tremble with excitement:
-Why are you two sitting into the dark? The very next moment, she turned the lights on at the maximum luminosity the switch allowed her. A spectacle of balanced forms revealed themselves underneath the exquisite short pink silk robe. The long black hair was flowing down her right shoulder covering the right breast. However, the robe was so fine, delicate and transparent that John could once again admire her tanned skin which was contrasting so discretely with the color of the vaporous robe. John was trying to keep a straight face and not show his emotions, but one could sense that the up and down motion of his Adam’s apple was a sign of distress and nervousness.
She turned around and headed for the kitchen. Half way she stopped, turned her head, tilted it with a sensual motion nobody expected and from the tips of her lips, with a waggish smile on her face asked:
-Do you like jasmine tea, John? John didn’t expect this sort of question, so he mumbled a “Yes, I do like jasmine tea” which was neither convincing nor cheering.
-Very well, gentlemen…in few minutes I will bring you some tea. This time she discretely slipped into the kitchen leaving the two men once again alone.
John shook his head, thus signaling that he needs to wipe out the image of the gorgeous woman who just stood in front of him. Right away he realized that the man sitting at the other end of the tatami was carefully watching his expressions and reactions to the environment. This made John get into an even more defensive position, calculating every move he was making. The room was now invaded by good lighting and he couldn’t stop but resting once again his eyes on the great weaponry collection on the wall. This couldn’t have passed unobserved by the big fella who was scrutinizing John’s emotions. He slowly got up, headed towards that section of the wall and stretched his left hand towards John, in a sign meant to say: “please come closer”. John hesitated, but his interlocutor insisted. As he was getting closer to the wall, he realized that he was facing a treasure…three stunning swords were placed in the middle of the “exhibition”. The engravings on their scabbards were exquisite to say the least. The materials used for the decorations were gold, silver and few precious gem stones. The background was black, which was making the precious metals shine even more. It was a spectacle of fine art, great taste, exquisite refinement and unmatched craftsmanship! John guessed that the characters depicted were part of the Chinese Mythology as they did not make any sense to him. However, there was a little detail which his trained eye picked up right away: all three of the scabbards had a fairly large hart head (similar to the real one which was displayed on the wall) executed in gold and silver, while the eyes were represented by two superb bright red sapphires each encapsulated into a silver pocket. He was stunned! Flashbacks from that night when he was driving on that dark road in the middle of nowhere back home, kicked in. The eyes of the creatures sculptured on the scabbards were large and goggled, frightening but captivating in the same time thus reminding him of the majestic hart he almost hit that night, a night he would never forget for the rest of his life. Next, he moved his eyes on the handle…yet another piece of artistry! It was most likely blackened forged steel, but the amount of detailing (also in gold and silver) made John whisper from the bottom of his heart: “incredible!”
Slowly he moved his eye sight on the other two swords which were placed above the “master piece”. They were made probably by the same craftsman, as the detailing on the scabbards was similar. However, it was not made into gold and silver but the mythological scenes were identical. The same hart head was cast into the upper guard of the handle on both sides, but this time, it looked like the antlers were “coming out” of the whole scene and were pointing up. John realized that this particular and unusual design had a functional role: to stop the enemy’s blade from reaching the hand and in the same time to trap it between the openings of the antlers. Curiously, he took a look at both swords…the same design was employed by the master sword maker but the engravings were done into a different material on the same black background. In spite of the fact that these two swords were maintained at the same level of quality as the “master sword”, John’s keen eye picked up an element which many would’ve missed: both had some scratches and scuffs on the scabbards and on the handle in spite of the efforts done to hide them. This pointed him to believe that these two swords went through some hardship during their prime.
-I can see that you set your eyes on my swords, John.
-They are beautiful! His sincere exclamation put a smile on the man’s lips. A deep sense of pride was now flooding his entire face. One would realize that the swords were playing a significant role in his life in spite of the fact that they were obsolete into a modern world.
-They belonged to my ancestors going back few hundred years. He slowly grabbed with both his hands the one in the middle and handed it over to John while slightly bowing. It was a moment of great hesitation from John’s side to accept it, but finally he carefully took it into his hands without removing his eyesight from it and involuntarily bowing as well. This gesture came naturally. The politeness of the large fellow he was facing demanded politeness and John’s keen eye and sharp fifth sense picked up the unwritten rule on the fly.
He was now holding a masterpiece of swordsmanship and a symbol of few centuries of rich Imperial Chinese history. “This sword must’ve belonged to a powerful and rich family! The amount of gold, silver and precious gem stones used for engravings as well as the amount of details describing the nobility symbols was definitely out of reach even for noble families unless they belonged to high aristocracy or royalty”. John didn’t realize, but the little monologue which just came out of his chest, was not quite completely silent. The man who handed the sword to him must’ve heard it or at least part of it, as his smile became larger and a sense of proudness one could’ve read on his tanned face.
-Yes, John. Both of us (I and my sister) belong to one of the greatest aristocratic families during the Ming Dynasty times. We were a family of warriors and we produced great generals.
At the sound of Ming Dynasty, John startled. Also, he couldn’t help but cover his mouth with a gesture signaling great wonder while pointing towards the kitchen. The large fella, nodded: “Yes John, she is my sister”.
John was baffled…in the last ten seconds, he found out that his neighbors are descendants of a high nobility family and that they are brother and sister. His mind just couldn’t comprehend the legerity the woman was employing when showed up in the room, her libertines gestures and the fact that she didn’t have any problem not covering herself when he looked at her showering. His brain was telling him to watch his back, open his eyes and sharpen his hearing. Next question he asked himself was: “Is Tony part of this clan too? How do they relate to each other? Do they work together when they are draining funds from Glenworth? Are they doing this with other companies too?” On top of all the questions he already had, on top of the fact that he was trying to understand the role of Zhaohui in this story, the role played by Vic and Mr. Wang, now he was all of a sudden facing another set of questions and doubts. One more time, the question that was tormenting him since he stepped into China, popped up again: “Why am I involved into this strange story? I had my life back home. How did I get myself dragged into this intricate and complicated string of events?” He realized that it was futile trying to find answers, given the particular situation he was facing.
The coldness of the scabbard and the handle, made him come to reality and redirect his attention to the beauty he was holding. The weapon felt so light in his hands but under the influence of the value this sword was bearing, John wanted to squeeze it so he won’t drop it. His eyes were now scrutinizing every single element of the exquisite precious engravings. The handle was another great piece of artistry: it also had a black background and every groove (meant to hold in place the fingers of the both hands) was coated in silver, making the contrast stunning. But when he moved his eye sight towards the end of the handle, he realized that another element (he missed when the sword was still hanging on the wall), was making this weapon truly unique: a very large green precious stone was buried into the butt of the handle. John didn’t quite understand the significance of that stone being placed at the bottom of the handle, but he realized that this sword must’ve represented more than just a fighting tool. The multitude of colored shades thrown by the giant green pearl were dancing, were playing and marching in the same time into an array of columns and rows one would think it was a military formation.
This deadly beauty was designed and executed the way a composer writes a symphony: first movement was the black background – like a “pianissimo”, the second movement was the great gold and silver engraving – like a “mezzo-forte”, the third movement was that frightening hart head and its red goggled sapphire eyes – like a “fortissimo”, while the fourth movement was represented by the majestic green stone finishing the symphony on a “mezzo-forte” note. Everything about this piece of art was unique, fascinating, mystic and powerful.
John moved his right hand to the handle area…a strange feeling encompassed him, making his face lighten and his whole body recoil switching from a crisp and tensioned state of mind to a more relaxed and at ease tune.
His curiosity did not stop here. Something inside him was asking for more. He was now holding the sword with his right hand by the handle and the left on the scabbard. Slowly, he started drawing the sword. The squish was quiet and low pitched. As the weapon was coming out of its housing, a magnificent blade, shining like a morning rising sun was presenting itself to the viewers. It was another piece of artistry which made John hold his breath. It was so delicate, yet so deadly judging by the sharpness of its dual cutting edge. An inscription running in the middle of it for about a foot in length was probably a motto of the aristocratic house the two hosts belonged to. Nevertheless, at the joint area with the handle, another engraving of the hart head was signaling the fact that the master did not leave anything at the mercy of chance and everything about this sword had a meaning, had a philosophical significance and followed a ritual known by just a handful of people.
-What do you think, John?
-Stunning, to say the least!
-I thank you for your words. This sword has been in my family for many generations. It has been passed along the lineage line from father to son.
-Why is this one different from the other two?
-This one was not used into the battles. It is a ceremonial sword. The other two are war swords, are weapons which have seen many battles and spilled lots of enemy blood on the ground. John felt like asking: “who the enemies were?” but stopped short from placing this question into the conversation. Something was telling him to be cautious on how much he was getting out of his chest and focus on listening.
– I noticed that the war swords are curved a little towards the tip. Why isn’t the ceremonial curved?
-You have a good eye for detail, John. I would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t ask me this question…after few seconds of silence, the large fellow started explaining that the war swords were more effective if they had a curved tip as this will help with slashing during the close combat. The tip was sharp as it was used for piercing while only one of the edges was sharp, as there was no point to have two sharp edges into a man to man fight on the battle field. John was absorbing all the details while having his eyes still at the “master piece”. Eventually, he handed the sword back to his interlocutor. Moving now his eye sight from the swords, he couldn’t help but notice the lances hung on the wall. Their stick was probably seven feet long with an area at one end showing a certain level of weariness. Clearly it was the “handle”, even if it was not quite a handle. The other end, had a metal piece riveted to the stick, which was double edged and was as sharp as it could get. The metal was mirror polished making the light bounce off of it and thus maintaining a certain level of repulsiveness which made John tremble with fear. He was encompassed by an inexplicable feeling of fear and unease and couldn’t quite understand why the black stick with the sharp metal at the end was more frightening than the sword he held into his hands earlier. Ultimately, it was just a piece of wood with a sharp triangle at one end. His intuition was telling him that there is a lot more to it than what he thought.
-I can see that you are now studying my lances. Is there anything in particular you need to know about this weapon? Before he even finished the sentence, he took one from the wall and handed it over to John. It was a moment of great wonder and admiration from John’s side. The lance felt was so light, that he tried not to squeeze it too hard and break it. Many questions popped up into his head and before knowing it, he started asking, so his interlocutor could hear them.
-This is so light, so fragile and so delicate! Why did I feel like it is repulsive? He tried the sharp edges with his thumb…they were razor sharp! How do you defend against swords with this thing? How does it work?
A large smile flourished on the man’s face. He slowly removed the spear from John’s hand and placed it back on the wall.
-This weapon is the most deadly weapon on the battle field if it finds the right man to handle it. You can easily keep two swords away from you while inflicting deadly wounds into other attackers. It is meant for defense, but if you know its true capabilities, you can turn it into an offensive weapon too. I prefer the lance over the sword.
-I am assuming that you can handle both of them equally well.
-I am the descendant of one of the greatest aristocratic families China ever had…remember? His tone was now firm, commanding, filled with that type of proudness which only a great and glorious background can bring to the surface and make some ordinary human being special, noble, or even royal. John was about to ask him: “And who that great aristocratic family was?” when his guest’s sister came out of the kitchen with a small chair (a wooden holder) on which she had a stunning china set. Judging by the clean, crystal like noise made by the cups and the kettle when touching each other and by the fact that his guests belonged to an old aristocratic family, John could only assume that in front of him was laid down a famous tea set made probably from the most expensive porcelain possible. He took a look at the themes on the cups and the kettle…they were stunning to say the least! Everything was painted in a beautiful blue color and the amount of details and the intricacy of the scenes made John grasp for air. The white background was only emphasizing the amount of work the master invested in these cups. The kettle, due to its bigger volume than the cups, was a true representation of what fine taste and true craftsmanship can produce when placed under the skillful hands of a talented ceramicist. The mysterious woman made a sign with both her hands inviting the men to sit. Then she started pouring the tea with calm, calculated and almost like with religious type of movements. Everything was balanced, weighed, studied and rules were followed to the latest detail: the way she was holding the kettle, the perfect imaginary line she followed to fill the cups, the way she presented the cups to the two men, all of these denoted fine knowledge and long training into the hosting science. When she got closer to John to serve him, he couldn’t help but deep inhale the smell of her perfume, a perfume which was now impregnated into her skin and into her hair and was radiating a scent which he was unable to recognize, a scent which was already playing games with his mind. It was powerful yet delicate, it was mysterious yet so tangible! The vaporous pink robe was still reveling the beauty of a tanned skin. A trained eye would immediately realize that she was taking good care of her epidermis as it was shining from the body oils she was using.
After she was done pouring the tea, she deeply bowed the head to the host (her brother) and to John, signaling the fact that she was asking for permission to leave. The large man who was entertaining John up to this moment bowed his head as well, thus reveling his acceptance to her request. John caught the movement on the fly and when the hostess turn her head towards him, he slowly bowed, imitating the gesture of the big fella who was carefully watching every motion his guest was making. A smile came on his face when he saw that John mimicked his ritual and bowed to John in a sign of: “thank you for respecting our traditions”. John replied and from there on, the tension he felt from the first moment he saw his neighbor, just disappeared. He was now encompassed by a strange feeling of acceptance, of neighboring and good faith.
Few minutes passed by; the two men were simply minding their business sipping the wonderful hot liquid from the cups. It looked like they almost forgot about the existence of the other and were in no mood whatsoever to open up a conversation. In spite of the fact that John was looking at his host trying to guess what he was thinking at, his mind was now busy with the image of the woman who just served the tea. “So, both she and her brother belong to the upper aristocratic class and this could have been seen by the exquisite things from the apartment and also by the way they are behaving…it does have something different in it, special, something I am sensing that it does not belong to the ordinary people”
The large fella at the other end, was closely watching John. His eye sight was focused on John’s mimics, on his face, on his shown or hidden emotions thus trying to pierce through an armor which was kept intact quite well until now. It was a chess game between two masters, everyone playing a defensive style in the beginning in an attempt to gather as much information as possible about the opponent’ strategies and tactics. Finally, the host placed the cup on its plate and then the plate on the little wooden stool brought by his sister. John did the same. He realized that the wait is over and the “hostilities” will eventually start.