Red Hand

By Robert Fisher

One year after the death of Mao Tse-tung, the Politburo is mired in a struggle between the hard line right and several groups of moderates unable to coalesce into a unified opposition. A brilliant man who stays mainly in the shadows, and is unknown to Western Intelligence, is looked to by the rabid generals of the right as the only person capable of giving them what they want - a plan to establish China as a world leader. His exceptionally gifted mind finally does this. His plan will take advantage of the divided Politburo and includes duping the leaders of Vietnam and North Korea as pawns in his scheme. He regards it as a bonus that his plan will kill millions of people.

One apparently minor consequence of this plan comes to the attention of, and intrigues, the CIAs head of operations in South East Asia. The more he digs the more he becomes convinced that, although his analysis is still extremely vague, his gut is correct and America is in grave danger. But Washington dismisses his conclusion. Two years after defeat in Vietnam, the last thing they want to countenance is another entanglement in Asia. In frustration he contacts a retired soldier and begs him to investigate.

Colonel Philip Melville was the most successful leader of Special Forces in the Vietnam conflict. The trail begins by his infiltrating back into Ho Chi Minh City and leads to Hong Kong and Beijing. Along the way, vague pieces of analysis become unthinkable catastrophic possibilities. Still Washington refuses to intervene, leaving Melville as the only barrier to Armageddon.

His nightmare turns to chilling reality when he learns time is rapidly running out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481761284

Robert Fisher

Robert Fisher taught for over twenty years in schools in the UK, Africa and Hong Kong before becoming professor of Education at Brunel University. He has published over thirty books on education.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Under the blazing sun, the woman struggled to climb up the hard packed path that led from the river to the village. Perhaps village was too pretentious a term for a haphazard collection of forty two tiny abodes, only thirty one of them occupied at the present time. The residents only referred to it as ‘the village’ it had no other name—it was too insignificant and no one cared. It was located on the slopes of the Luoxiao Mountains in the east of Hunan Province in China. The inhabitants were farmers and barely managed to scratch a living from the unforgiving terrain. If someone were to ask them why they stayed they would be greeted by a blank stare. There was no answer to such a riddle. One was born here, grew up helping one’s parents in the fields, married, procreated and died.

That was all.

On a rare occasion someone would travel to the nearest city fifty miles away to barter for medicine or other necessities. It had been known for a young person with sufficient determination and courage to leave for the city. They never returned. Sometimes the animal they stole to ride there would return with no rider. People shrugged at such happenings and went on with the daily grind.

It was now September in the year 1924 and unseasonably hot as the woman put down her buckets of water and paused to catch her breath. She was almost eight months pregnant and had suffered two miscarriages which left her in a state of constant depression. Not so her husband, who called these events a blessing, as both fetuses had been girls. He needed a boy to assist on the small farm. And even though this place was as far removed from the rest of the world as imaginable, somehow the Chinese innate desire for a son had not been erased from their psyche.

It was as immutable as the mountains.

In her depressed state she had resolved that should she lose this child there was no point in continuing to live. There was no love between her and her husband, nor had there ever been. Like every ‘marriage’ in this village there had been no ceremony. The parents had negotiated the union and at the age of sixteen she was sent to live with the selected partner. The usual barter for a wife was a sheep but as she had not been very pretty her parents had settled for three chickens. She may have been a bit plumper than most young women, but this turned out to be solely due to her age. As she grew older she became as painfully thin as most of the women in the village. If she was not the prettiest girl in the village, her husband was certainly no great prize. He was five years older than she and was already losing his hair—and his teeth. His bow legs didn’t exactly enhance his appearance either. But the worst part was his vile temper. He frequently slapped her because of something he imagined to be wrong. Whatever misfortune befell them he blamed her, everything was her fault. She accepted this as part of normal life. It was the same treatment her father meted out to her mother; although never as brutally or as often. When she was eighteen and had just suffered her first miscarriage, he had an accident in the fields. His hoe hit a rock and caromed into his leg. When he came home he was seething with pain and anger. Of course it was all her fault and he beat her viciously.

The next day she could not get out of bed and was still there when Mrs. Yao, the unofficial midwife of the village, came to visit her. When she saw the bruising her lips tightened. She said nothing and left after administering an after-miscarriage check. Mrs. Yao was not one of the thin women in the village. In fact she was unusually strong. Something that Mr. Yao had discovered to his chagrin on several occasions. This determined and sturdy woman went directly to the fields and marched straight up to the bullying husband. He looked up from his labors at her approach and casually leaned on his hoe. He was caught completely unawares when she kicked him hard between his legs.

You know what that’s for! was all she said and stomped off.

Now he was not only in severe pain but more importantly was acutely embarrassed at the laughter of the other men. That night he beat his wife so badly that he thought he had killed her.

The following morning her absence from the fields was quickly noted by Mrs. Yao and she hurried to the house. What she saw caused tears to spurt from her eyes. She rushed back to her own home to get her box of salves and strips of old cloth that supplemented her meager supply of bandages. When she had tended to the cuts and bruises her patient pleaded with her not to remonstrate with her husband.

He will kill me, she whined.

No he won’t! avowed a fuming Mrs. Yao.

Once more she returned to the fields but this time her intended victim was ready for her. At least he thought he was. He raised his hoe menacingly as she approached.

Go away you old hag, he yelled in an unnecessarily loud voice intended to reestablish his status among the other men.

Perhaps it was his focus on proving his manhood, but for some inexplicable reason, he appeared not to have seen that she also was carrying her hoe. She swung it rapidly and knocked his out of his hands. Then she whacked him behind the knees causing him to topple to the ground. She stamped one foot on his chest and with the back of her hoe, broke his nose. Then she whirled her weapon around placing the sharp blade on his throat.

If you touch your wife just one more time I won’t stop this blade until it severs your head. Do you understand?

His slit eyes went wide with fear. He was incapable of speech.

I asked you if you understood? she hissed quietly in a way that was infinitely more terrifying than yelling.

This time he gingerly nodded his head as urine ran down his leg. He lay on the ground writhing in agony. Even with all his pain his instinctive fear of loss of face caused him to listen for the jeering laughs of the other men. But this time there were none. They thought of their own behavior towards their wives and became deadly afraid for their own safety.

From that day on he never again hit his wife. Each day he uttered a curse on Mrs. Yao and fervently hoped she would become ill so he could exact revenge on her—and his wife. But Mrs. Yao was remarkably resilient.

Two years later the woman suffered her second miscarriage and thoughts of suicide invaded her mind. It was the tenderness of Mrs. Yao’s counseling that finally won her over.

Now, after close to another two years, she wiped the sweat from her brow, picked up the heavy buckets of water and began waddling towards home. Over the past few years, thanks to the coaching of Mrs. Yao, she was no longer the submissive fearful wife. She had grown into a woman with inner strength. Mentally strong enough to carry out her promise to herself should she lose this baby.

She was within a few yards of the first house when the pain struck. Her water broke and she crumpled to the ground with a loud scream. It was a cry of anguish more than pain. She thought she had lost another child. An old woman heard her and shuffled as quickly as she could to investigate. She in turn also screamed. It was a scream so high pitched and loud that one would have thought it impossible for such an elderly person to make such a sound. It seemed to reverberate around the mountains. It was loud enough for many in the fields to hear, including Mrs. Yao. Dropping her hoe she ran as fast as her little legs would carry her towards the scream. Many others followed her but not the woman’s husband who stubbornly continued to work.

There, there, I’ll take care of you, said Mrs. Yao soothingly when she reached her.

Have I lost another one? sobbed the distraught woman.

No, my child, but you should not have been carrying such a heavy load. You have induced the baby early. Let’s get you to bed.

She motioned for others to assist and when her patient was in bed she conducted her examination. Then she asked one of the neighbors to boil water. It was not too long a labor and at last the crying of a baby reached the ears of those waiting outside. Then the small band of villagers heard the exhilarating news.

It’s a boy!

The waiting group picked up the cry with such enthusiasm that the husband heard it in the fields. His face broke into a smile and he jogged quickly home. Mrs. Yao had just finished washing the baby when he arrived. He put out his arms to hold his son but Mrs. Yao would not relinquish him until he washed his hands. He rapidly complied but as he was about to hold his naked son his eyes were drawn to the baby’s right foot. It was a club-foot. The smile that had lit his face since he heard the news of the birth, instantly disappeared and he withdrew his arms.

Cover the infant, he barked.

He turned to his wife and in a voice filled with venom spat out a few words.

So, you have played a cruel joke on me. You have delivered a cripple!

He stormed out as the mother looked uncomprehendingly at Mrs. Yao. She laid the baby in his mother’s arms before speaking.

He is not a cripple. He will only have a slight limp but he is a beautiful boy, she said with assurance. An assurance she did not feel in her heart. How well she knew the Chinese superstition about deformed children. The boy would be an outcast in this village as would his parents. He would be looked upon as a harbinger of bad luck for all in the village.

She shooed away the small crowd outside the house and sat next to the nursing mother to think. Mrs. Yao knew she had to act quickly.

Chapter 2

She sat deep in thought, her brow furrowed. Finally after reviewing several alternatives she settled on the conclusion that had first come into her mind. She knew the shame would be too much for the husband to bear. He would find a way to kill the baby. He would either drown him in the river or more likely he would carry him up into the mountains and abandon him to the wolves or bears.

There was only one thing to do. She would have to take the woman and the baby to the city. There they could live for several years in seclusion. By which time the boy could wear shoes to hide his deformity. And she knew exactly where to take them. But she would have to relocate them as quickly as possible, otherwise the superstitious villagers may learn of the baby’s deformity. This would most certainly force the humiliated father to do something drastic. Given the woman’s current weakness and the baby’s inability to travel so soon, she knew the earliest ideal time to risk undertaking this difficult journey would be about ten days; but she also knew she didn’t have that much time. It would have to be sooner.

First she would have to move them to her house. She could easily tell her husband to move in with his brother while she cared for the mother and child. She had done this in the past when a young mother had no relatives to look after her. Meanwhile she would do her best to build up the strength of the woman and the baby. Transportation was not a problem; she had two mules and had used them when she visited the city to acquire medicines. Her concern was the mother’s ability to make such a journey. A stony path ran along the bank of the river for about ten miles. Thereafter a dirt road led to the city. The journey normally took her half a day but it would take longer with the weakened woman. It could not be helped; there was no other way.

She told the woman she could care for her better at her own home and then assisted her in packing her meager belongings. They slowly walked to her house where she dispatched her husband. Only when the baby was asleep and the mother was resting on the bed did she tell her what had to happen. Mrs. Yao was proud of the way the news was received. The woman displayed all the recently developed inner strength in accepting the inevitability of the plan. Two years ago this woman would have had a hysterical fit. Her first question was where she would stay in the city that she had never visited and where she knew no one. Mrs. Yao assured her she had an excellent solution and the trusting woman asked only one other thing.

I know it will be a difficult journey. I am sure the baby will make it but I can’t be certain that I will. If I should die will you still take my son to a safe place?

This was asked in such a calm manner that even Mrs. Yao was astounded.

You are right, my dear, it will be difficult. But I am certain that in a few days you will have the strength to make it. We will travel slowly and the mules are very sure-footed.

The woman smiled wanly.

Thank you for your confidence. But just in case something should happen will you promise me you will take care of my son? she pleaded.

I promise. Now you must get some rest. I will make soup for our dinner.

The woman looked lovingly at the baby sleeping peacefully next to her, smiled, and closed her eyes. Mrs. Yao once again marveled at the new found courage of this woman. She wiped a few tears from her own eyes and began preparing dinner.

After a few days Mrs. Yao was getting many questions about the baby. The villagers were keen to see the new addition to their numbers. She knew by the looks on the faces of her inquisitors that they were beginning to be suspicious; especially as the husband had not visited his son.

It was time to go!

We have to leave early tomorrow morning, my child, she told the woman.

I am ready, was the composed response.

I will make a hearty meal for tonight and pack some food for our journey. Meantime you stay resting in bed.

After eating, she fed the mules giving them as many oats as she could spare. Their instincts told them this was highly unusual and they whinnied with an innate concern. Nevertheless they ate everything.

It was still dark when the baby was fed, then wrapped in a harness which was strapped to Mrs. Yao’s chest. As the woman was unaccustomed to riding, she was told to stretch along the back and neck of the older and less excitable of the mules. Then she was gently strapped in place. Mrs. Yao’s greatest fear was that if the woman lost too much blood the smell would spook the mule. Like everything else connected with this journey, it would simply have to be risked. There was no other solution. They set off with Mrs. Yao leading while holding a rope tied to the second mule.

The stony path proved to be more uncomfortable than the woman had anticipated. She moaned with pain and they had to stop many times to let her rest and to change her bloody pads. To Mrs. Yao’s great relief, while the mule’s eyes seemed to grow larger and its ears stood erect, it didn’t buck at the smell of blood.

The sun rose just as they left the stony path and joined the dirt road. Mrs. Yao increased the pace even though this would make it more uncomfortable for the woman; however she was becoming concerned at her condition. She appeared to be slipping in and out of consciousness and only her maternal instinct brought her fully awake when she heard her son cry for food. Within a few hours the temperature rose and Mrs. Yao knew they had to stop. She selected a place under the shade of a large tree. She had two reasons. Firstly they all needed a rest and secondly she wanted to arrive in the city when it was dark. The fewer eyes seeing them reach their destination the better. After several hours rest the woman became much more animated and aware of her surroundings.

Is it much further to the city? she asked.

Not too far, we will arrive when it is dark. You haven’t asked me where you will stay. Aren’t you curious?

Yes, but—, her voice trailed off.

Of course you were curious, said Mrs. Yao, with understanding. But you were afraid to ask.

I didn’t want you to think that I was being ungrateful and appearing to be too choosy. I’ll stay anywhere and do anything as long as my son is safe.

The words had spilled out in rapid succession as though she was afraid she might lose her nerve and not say them. She gasped for breath when she had finished and Mrs. Yao put an arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

I am beginning to know you well. I would not have thought that you were ungrateful if you had asked, my child. Let me put your mind at ease and tell you my plan. I have travelled to the city many times. And each time I always barter for medical supplies from one shop. The shop is owned by Mr. Ma Lok-lui. He is a kind man. Unfortunately his wife died four years ago and he still misses her terribly. I know he would be happy if a responsible person would share his home. Someone who would care for him and perhaps most importantly, someone he could talk to at the end of the day.

Then why hasn’t he remarried?

He is very intelligent, well educated and a quite rich man. He is also a very smart man and can tell when people are sincere. He confided in me that several young women were offered as wives to him. But in every case he saw the greed in the eyes of the parents. They wanted his money, and were not in the least concerned about his happiness, nor the happiness of their daughters. Such marriages would not have brought about a harmonious household.

If he is quite wealthy surely he could afford servants to care for him. Why would he accept me to talk to? I am uneducated and of simple origins. I would be unable to converse appropriately with him.

Mrs. Yao smiled. For the first time she recognized that this young woman had not only grown in strength but had an innate intelligence. And this was most probably the cause of unhappiness in her home. She was brighter than her loutish husband and his recognition of this made him feel inferior. Something he could never accept. His only recourse to appear to be the superior one had been to use physical bullying.

Mrs. Yao’s strong belief that everything would work out well was based on something she had not told the woman. The irresistible attraction to Mr. Ma would be the baby. He had told her several times how he wished he had a son. Knowing this, she had to explain the situation to the woman using great care in her choice of words.

Mr. Ma does not have children and I think he has given up hope of finding another wife. He does hire servants to come each day to do many of the chores but they cannot give him what he dearly wishes. You see, my child, what he misses most is companionship. He is a gentle man and I believe he would welcome you because you are a sincere person and I must say the baby would delight him. I have no doubt he would want only the best for your son and be proud to be a part of his upbringing. This would fulfill something he has long hoped for.

Would he expect anything else of me? asked the woman with some trepidation.

No he would not, averred Mrs. Yao. I told you he is kind and gentle as well as smart. He would expect honesty and respect. And I know you would not only be grateful to him but also be honest and show him respect.

I will try my best, she said meekly.

Let’s have a little meat and then continue our journey. I am glad we had this conversation.

May I ask one other question?

Of course, what is it?

The city we are going to—what is its name?

It is called Anren.

Anren. That is a good name. I think I will like it there.

Suddenly her face clouded over.

What is it? Do you feel ill? exclaimed a concerned Mrs. Yao.

No. I only hope Mr. Ma will accept my son even though he has a deformed foot.

I told you he is an intelligent man. He does not believe in the superstitious nonsense of ignorant people. And he is a healer. He dispenses medicines to make people well. He cares deeply about people. That’s why I admire him so greatly.

The woman ate her meat, fed her son then stood with a serene look on her face.

Let’s go to Anren, Mrs. Yao.

Chapter 3

The remainder of the journey was still painful to the woman but she stifled her moans and always attempted to cheerfully reply to Mrs. Yao’s inquiries as to how she was faring. The possibility of finding a good home for her son was an all-consuming beacon of hope.

It was dark when they reached the outskirts of Anren. Mrs. Yao took back streets and it required another thirty minutes to arrive at the home of Mr. Ma. Those thirty minutes were frightening to the woman. She never imagined that so many people existed. And the lamps lighting the streets showed the many shops and houses along the way. If Mrs. Yao had taken the main roads the sights there would definitely have terrified the woman. As it was when they stopped at Mr. Ma’s house she gasped in awe and at first refused to dismount from the mule.

Come—come, my child, don’t be afraid, coaxed Mrs. Yao.

But still she refused.

I can’t go in there, she whispered plaintively. How many people live in that huge building?

Only Mr. Ma, replied Mrs. Yao with a smile. I know how you feel. The first time I came here I couldn’t believe my eyes. It will take you many months before you become used to the sights of a city and of this grand house.

The house stood on a half acre plot surrounded by six foot walls. It was constructed with ochre colored bricks topped by a red tiled roof. Its windows were bordered with green shutters and it had a huge, ornately carved, solid wood door with metal hinges. The surrounding garden was beautifully laid out with a fish pond and fountain as the centerpiece. The woman gazed once more at all these wonders and continued to cling to the mule. Mrs. Yao tugged at her sleeve until with a shudder she slid off the mule.

I think it best if you stay here with your son and allow me to explain the situation to Mr. Ma.

The woman merely nodded as she clutched her baby. She desperately fought off the impulse to run as she watched Mrs. Yao rap loudly on the door using the metal knocker. Perhaps she would have fled except for a moment of sanity when she realized she had nowhere to go and outside in the city was even scarier than this lovely garden. She stood shivering in the warm evening. After several minutes the huge door was swung open by a tall man in an embroidered silk robe wearing a matching tasseled silk cap. He seemed pleased to see Mrs. Yao and listened attentively to what she had to say. He nodded his head and looked to where Mrs. Yao pointed—straight at the woman. A smile crossed his face and he strode towards the woman with his arms outstretched in a welcome that she had never experienced.

He did not embrace her—that would not have been the Chinese manner—but stopped a yard in front of her and bowed. That, also, was a greeting she had never experienced.

Gentle lady, you have had a horrible journey. You and your son must be exhausted. Please enter my humble home and enjoy some refreshments. Madam Yao will stay with you. I have several bedrooms and I trust you will find one of them comfortable. In the morning we can discuss your situation. I feel certain we can come to a satisfactory solution. Please do me the honor of entering.

The woman’s head was spinning. To begin with she had trouble understanding him. His use of language and his refined tone were alien to her. Then his obvious warmth of manner was totally unexpected. In truth she had not known what to expect, but this was overwhelming. Tears streamed down her face. Mrs. Yao put a comforting arm around her and led her into the house. As she passed Mr. Ma he reached into his billowing sleeve and produced a handkerchief which he handed to her. She had never seen a handkerchief and stared at it uncomprehendingly until Mrs. Yao took it and daubed her eyes. She mumbled a thank you and leant on Mrs. Yao’s arm as she stepped into the vestibule.

If she had been in awe of the outside of the house she was utterly flabbergasted by the inside. Instead of the mud floors she had grown up with, the floors here were wood and partly covered by beautifully patterned carpets. The rosewood furniture gleamed under the fine glass lamps and the walls were adorned with artwork. It was all too much for her and the tears flowed once again. This time she used the handkerchief.

Once the women were comfortably seated, Mr. Ma excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen. He quickly returned with hot tea and sweet cakes. The signs of exhaustion were evident on both women and seeing this Ma said little while they consumed their tea and cakes. They had just finished when the baby started to cry.

If you will excuse us, Mr. Ma, I think we should go the bedroom to feed the baby. Then as you suggested we should retire. We will see you in the morning, said Mrs. Yao.

Goodnight ladies, I hope you sleep well.

Before they left, Mr. Ma walked over to the woman.

May I look at your son?

The woman pulled the wrap from his face and Mr. Ma’s eyes lit up as he gazed upon the boy.

He is a fine child, he said. If you do not think it intrusive of me I will ask a good friend of mine to visit the baby tomorrow. My friend is a doctor who specializes in babies.

Once again the woman had difficulty understanding him and it was Mrs. Yao who thanked Mr. Ma and said it was an excellent idea. When they got to the bedroom Mrs. Yao explained about the doctor and the woman just couldn’t help it. The tears flowed yet again.

Her son was to be well cared for.

Chapter 4

The life on the farm with its early rising was ingrained in the woman’s being. Therefore, despite having had to feed the baby three times during the night, she awakened before the sun rose. She rolled over and saw that Mrs. Yao was not there. Fearing she had been abandoned, she had an instant panic attack. That was quelled when the bedroom door opened and Mrs. Yao entered with hot tea.

I thought you would be awake early so I made tea, she whispered so as not to waken the baby.

Thank you, said the grateful woman, sipping it appreciatively.

Would you like something to eat?

I am a little hungry, admitted the woman.

In fact she was ravenous. The tension had gone from her body and even though she had to get up to feed the baby, she had slept well. She had never imagined a real bed could be so comfortable. She was accustomed to sleeping on a course burlap sack stuffed with straw and was filled with wonder at this luxurious mattress.

I will help you make breakfast. Do you think my son will be all right?

Don’t worry; he will sleep for some time. Anyway he has good lungs. You will hear him if he wakens. Just to be sure we will leave the door open.

That thought brought a frown of concern to the woman’s face as they left the bedroom.

Oh, do you think my son’s crying during the night will have disturbed Mr. Ma? she asked tremulously, worrying that he might refuse to have them stay.

Not at all! Didn’t you notice the look on his face as he gazed at the baby last night? It was one of pure joy. It is quite obvious that one of his greatest wishes has been to have a son. And although your baby is not his, I could tell in that instant he wishes with all his heart for you and the baby to stay here with him.

Do you really think so, Mrs. Yao?

Yes I do. I feel sure he will tell you that when we talk. Let’s make him a delicious breakfast. I think the kitchen is that way.

Every thing about the house had amazed the woman, but when she saw the kitchen, her jaw dropped. She stood with her mouth agape for almost a minute.

This kitchen is bigger than my house, she finally mumbled. Look at all these cooking pots.

Mrs. Yao just smiled. Then she began opening cupboard doors in search of food and serving bowls. She quickly found rice, eggs, strips of cold roasted pork and other condiments.

How do you know what Mr. Ma eats? asked the woman worriedly.

I don’t. We’ll just have to do our best. Let’s get started.

They were almost finished when Mr. Ma entered the kitchen.

Good morning, ladies. Mmm, that smells delicious. I—trust—you—slept—well.

The words came out haltingly. He kept looking around the kitchen as though he had lost something. Finally, not finding the object of his search, he could contain himself no longer and was forced to ask, Where is the baby boy?

The woman then knew that Mrs. Yao had been accurate in her assumption. Mr. Ma desperately wanted to have her son stay with him. She didn’t feel the slightest resentment that the baby came first and she was of secondary importance. All she wanted was for her son to be well cared for. Her inner being was ecstatic. Her wishes and those of Mr. Ma were in total alignment.

He is still sleeping, she said.

Ah, that is good. Let’s enjoy this wonderful breakfast then sit and talk. I have been thinking about what we can do and would like discuss my thoughts with both of you. In fact I have been so excited over the prospect of you staying here that I found it hard to sleep.

They sat down at the large dining table and again the woman felt uncomfortable. She was conscious of her lack of any form of etiquette and tried hard not to slurp too loudly as she ate. But Mr. Ma was oblivious to this. He was in a euphoric state and in his eagerness to discuss his plan he ate so quickly the women could not keep up. He fidgeted in his seat as he impatiently waited for them to finish.

Just leave the dishes, he instructed and almost ran into the living room.

Once all three were seated, the women close to each other on a sofa and he opposite on the edge of a large chair, he waved his arms as though calling for divine guidance and gulped down air. He was so wound up that initially no words came from his mouth. Mrs. Yao thought he was like a small boy who had just received his first fishing pole—so eager to begin yet not knowing how to start. At last he calmed down.

Firstly I would like you to stay as long as you can, Mrs. Yao. I am sure it would greatly aid the transition of—, his voice trailed off. Oh do forgive me, my dear, I forgot to ask your name last night.

My name is Fen, replied the woman.

Well Fen, it is a pleasure to meet you.

He jumped to his feet and bowed, then instantly plopped back in his seat. Fen had no time to bow in return before he was talking again.

Could you stay a few weeks, Mrs. Yao? I can easily send a messenger to your village to inform your husband.

Yes I could do that, responded Mrs. Yao after a few moments thought. Your messenger should say that I fell from the mule and will require some time to recuperate.

Excellent, breathed Ma. "Now here is my plan. If you don’t mind Fen, I will announce to my friends and servants that you are the daughter of a distant cousin and the village where you lived had an outbreak of smallpox. You were not infected but my cousin sent you to live with me as a precaution, particularly as you just had a baby. Oh, and