Fiction River: Hex in the City (28 page)

Gou nodded as he pulled into the cul-de-sac. The gate at the end was larger than the ones he’d passed. It must lead to a
shiheyuan
, or traditional courtyard. He could only imagine what lay beyond the gate, the many buildings lining the center square, the garden of brilliant flowers that he could almost smell, the burbling fountain that would give him peace in the middle of the night.

Gou pulled himself out of his daydream and turned to say, “Here?”

But the man had already hopped off Gou’s bike and was tugging the large trunk to the ground.

“Let me help,” Gou said, about to slide off his bicycle.

“No, no. Stay there,” the man insisted. “You must not get off your bike.”

“Really?” Gou asked.

The man gave him a toothy smile, like a foreigner. “Trust me. You need to stay on it.”

Gou thought it was strange, but he did as he was told.

“How much do I owe you?” the man asked, getting out his wallet.

Gou quoted four times his usual price, expecting him to bargain.

The man didn’t even blink. He just counted out the
yuan
from a thick wad.

Gou could have kicked himself. He should have asked for more. The man could obviously afford it.

At least now he’d be able to pay Shu.

“Go straight back out the way we came in,” the man instructed. “And don’t get off your bike. You shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Thank you,” Gou said, carefully folding the bills, then shoved them into his front pocket. “
Xie xie nin.
”

“You’re welcome,” the man replied, waving him off and turning toward the gate.

Gou waited, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was inside the gate, but the man slipped through more quickly than Gou would have imagined, especially given that large trunk.

He sighed, then shook his head. Nothing more to do here but head back. He didn’t need to get another fare, but maybe he could stop by the night market anyway, just in case his luck was still running hot.

Then Gou’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

Gou rode alone the open street, still marveling at how quiet and peaceful it all seemed. He nearly missed the alley, but luckily he was going slowly enough that he could bump into it.

Strange, though. Where had that temple come from? He hadn’t seen it on the way in. He would have remembered the great rock
steeles
rising in front of it. Maybe he should stop and read what was carved into their sides—then his stomach rumbled again, and he passed by.

Then the gate he’d first come through rose in front of him. Good. He was going the right way.

Suddenly, from beside the gate, a great dog sprang out of nowhere. It looked like a Doberman, with great teeth and glowing red eyes. It leaped straight for Gou.

Gou kicked out with his foot, giving the dog a good hit in the face. The dog lunged again, but Gou kept going, peddling with one foot while kicking with the other.

He had to get out of there.

The dog charged one last time, banging into the back of Gou’s rickshaw. He heard the metal groan, but he righted himself and peddled madly, popping through the gate.

Noise and light and the sour stench of pollution all returned suddenly. Gou stood on the brakes to slow down, then looked over his shoulder.

No dog from his nightmares bounded up after him.

And no gate stood behind him. It was just a blank wall. As if it had never been there.

Gou dismounted his bike, his legs shaking. If he’d fallen off, touched the ground in that cursed hutong, he would have been stuck there forever. He just knew it. It was like one of those fairy tales his grandmother had told him, though she’d always said the fox fairies were good.

But he’d escaped! Gou pumped his fist. What a story he had to tell his friends, later.

Then Gou stuck his hand in his pocket.

Instead of a nice folded square of
yuan
, he pulled out a crumpled pile of dead leaves.

Gou may have escaped, but he’d been cheated out of his money.

***

As soon as Gou finished working in his mom’s noodle shop the next morning, he peddled as fast as he could to
Dai Tong
, hunting for the man who had cheated him. The day had dawned hot and smoggy, the radio announcing a smog index of one hundred eighteen, unhealthy for those sensitive to it. Gou wore his mask wrapped tightly across his face, as well as the same clothes he’d worn the day before.

The wall where the gate had been was still blank, made out of plain, gray brick. On the other side of the wall stood a house. Now, in the light of day, Gou could tell that this hutong wasn’t one of those that had tours or tourists: The nearby walls slumped and were broken along the edges, the clay tiles on roofs were shattered, and laundry hung between the houses, like colorful flags. This was a place where people lived, not a park with tours. He could hear children playing just a few doors down, and the smells of thick
jitang
and spicy ginger floated to him.

The man was nowhere to be seen. Gou peddled through all the back lanes of
Dai Tong
before he raced to the train station, hoping to pick up at least one fare before Shu arrived and demanded his bribe.

The gods seemed to smile on Gou that morning, and he got double his normal fare from a Norwegian tourist with bad breath who was looking for, “Beer, beer, and more beer!” Gou was even able to pay Shu, counting out the
yuan
into his fat, sweating palm. Gou wouldn’t have enough for a single repair, not even a flat tire, but the next fare should fix that.

Or finding the man who’d cheated him.

Every day, Gou spent his extra hours seeking the man, peddling through back alleys and tiny, twisted streets that no devil could follow. He even talked with some of the older peddle cab drivers, seeing if they had ever gone to either
Dai Tong
or heard of
Huli Hutong
, but none of them had.

It was early evening almost a month later when Gou finally found his prey. He was navigating
Yingtao San Hutong
, a very thin alley: If he’d had two passengers, each would have been able to touch a gray brick wall. The smog had thinned, and though the air index was above fifty, Gou wasn’t wearing his mask. In the alcove next to him, neighbors had hung half a dozen birdcages, each holding a bright green or yellow songbird that sounded clear notes through the night.

Despite the cramped lane, a broom merchant had put a big box out in front of his shop, with different types of brooms sticking out of it: Modern brooms made from bright blue and red plastic, western style brooms made of yellow straw, as well as traditional wooden brooms with brown branches tied to the end.

Gou slowed down even further, standing on the pedals while he waited for two high school girls in their uniforms to pass by first, admiring their white shirts and green plaid skirts. When he looked back up, he spied the man he was seeking coming out of the shop.

Without thinking, Gou slammed down on his pedals, flying forward and nearly running into the man.

The shopkeeper came out from his doorway yelling, but Gou ignored him, focusing on the man carrying an odd shaped broom. “You cheated me,” he said, getting off his bike.

“And you found me. Astonishing. You’ve been looking for a while, haven’t you?” the man responded in perfect Mandarin.

“I have,” Gou said, pulling up. The man had never spoken Mandarin before. He was Japanese, right?

“It’s alright,” the man said, both to the shopkeeper and to Gou. “This is my ride.”

“Only if you pay me first. With real money,” Gou said hotly. He wasn’t about to be fooled again.

The man considered him. “Can you find your way to
Huli Hutong
by yourself?”

Gou bit his lip. He wanted to say that of course he could. But he hadn’t been able to find it, not after all his weeks of hunting.

“I will pay you double if you can get into the hutong alone,” the man said, settling into the passenger cab of Gou’s bike.

Gou refused to climb back onto his bike. “You pay me what you owe me. Now. In real money.”

The man took out his wallet and carefully counted out the bills, like he had the first time. He waved them toward Gou, then took them back. “I could pay you this, now. And that would guarantee that you’d never see me again. No matter how hard you look. Ever. Or,” the man continued slyly. “You could listen to a proposal.”

“You haven’t said anything of interest, yet,” Gou said, scowling.

“I’m impressed that you found me, actually. You have potential, and I have a possible business deal,” the man said calmly. “I want you, exclusively, to carry me and my family. You will need more bikes, motorbikes, even, and I will pay for them. You will own a whole fleet of cabs that cater to us. But you have to be able to get to my home on your own. You’ve already proven that you can get out.”

“You set that dog on me?” Gou asked hotly. He still had nightmares about those red eyes, though he told himself that it must have been a trick of the light.

The man shrugged. “You passed that test.” He leaned forward. “Now pass this one.” For a moment his eyes held a soft purple glow, then they faded back to plain black.

How could Gou find the unfindable? The street wasn’t on any map, the hutong not in any history of the neighborhoods.

Still, Gou had to try, though Hy and Long Yen and everyone would call him a fool for not taking the money in hand and running.

With a sigh, he got back onto his bike, standing on the pedals to get the vehicle moving.

The man laughed in the clear evening air. “You have until midnight,” he declared as he climbed onto his seat. “The hunt is on!”

Gou wasn’t certain, though, if he was the fox or the hound.

***

It had grown dark by the time Gou reached
Dai Tong
, however, he was very familiar with the neighborhood now. He pedaled directly to the place where he’d first seen the gate to
Huli Hutong
, though it was just a wall, as always. He rode next to the wall slowly, constantly looking up from where he was going to the plain brick, hoping to catch a glimpse of an opening, but he never saw one.

They passed dark doorways, closed shops, and barred windows, all the life tucked away behind the steep walls. Gou felt like the fences were closing in on him, the small alley growing narrower. He didn’t have a watch, or really, anything to tell time with: It was no longer ancient times, with bell towers ringing the double hours. Still, he knew it was late, and growing later.

Gou pedaled faster, popping out of the lane and into a wider street. The cars there honked at him, flashing their lights, but he didn’t care. He pulled in front of them, racing, his legs pumping, as he turned sharply, going back into the neighborhood, taking them down an even smaller alley.

If Gou leaned to the side, he could run his fingers along the wall here. He neatly avoided the flower box on his right, the sour smell of geraniums floating up to him, then the raft of bicycles all chained to a long metal pipe on his left. He still didn’t see an entrance, though he slowed down and kept swiveling his head, looking from side to side.

They went down another alley, then another, always circling back to
Dai Tong
.

Finally, the man said, “Not everything can be seen.”

Gou wanted to shout at his passenger. He knew that. He’d been looking and looking, and he’d never been able to find the entrance, find his way back into that quiet street.

As they reached the end of the alley, Gou paused.
Huli Hutong
hadn’t just been beautiful to look at; it had also smelled wonderful, like sweet lilies. It had felt different too, the air softer, more humid. There hadn’t been any traffic noises; it had been quiet. He was sure there were fountains that sang cheerfully behind the courtyard walls, and that the rice there would be fragrant and delicious.

Maybe Gou couldn’t find it with his eyes. But with his ears, and his nose, and his mouth…

Gou erupted out into the wider street, urging his tired legs to go faster. He’d traveled far that day, but he was determined to go further yet. The car behind him honked angrily and swerved. Gou waved at him in apology, racing down the wide street, taking them back to the first alley, where he’d seen the gate.

Then Gou slowed down. He knew this alley, had boasted to his friends about how well he knew it now, since he’d been down it so often, searching. So he closed his eyes, coasting, no longer pedaling, and lifted his nose high.

There, to his right, jasmine beckoned. He turned his head toward it, pressing his cheek against the softer air. It was quieter there as well.

When Gou opened his eyes, he still didn’t see anything but a blank wall. The hutong was there, though. The opening. Right beyond the wall.