Chapter 3

Li hated a lot of things, but he considered meeting with the mayor the worst part of his job. The mayor’s office was small and cramped with a half-finished paint job and a single window to the street outside. And the mayor himself was far too disorganized for his taste. How the man had ended up in charge of Caishen remained a mystery to him. Zhang took a seat across from the mayor, who looked up at Li with a smile. The mayor was short and a bit overweight, neither of which were physical traits Li believed any authority figure should have. Guan ran civil affairs and controlled the town garrison. It was too much power for an overweight fool.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” the mayor said to him. “Zhang never brings you along anymore.”

“I’ve been busy, Guan.” Li took a seat, forcing a smile. “Zhang and I found a Japanese deserter. He’s in a cell at the prison. I’d have killed him myself, but Zhang insisted we get your approval first. I say it should be my call since I tracked him down.”

“I thought he might be useful,” Zhang said. “He hasn’t been any trouble so far.”

“I’ve never met a Japanese deserter,” Guan said. “It’s odd, isn’t it?”

Zhang frowned. “What is?”

“The man you found. Everyone says the Japanese don’t surrender.”

“This one did,” Zhang said. “Sakata, he’s called. We got Qiao to translate for us. According to her, he doesn’t care about the military or about us. They were on a reconnaissance mission for the Japanese. He said there’s another invasion planned, but he claims not to know anything about troop movements.”

Guan nodded, turning to the window. “That confirms my suspicions. Hashimoto will be coming.”

“General Hashimoto?” Li felt his hands grow numb. He looked at the stack of letters on Guan’s desk and wondered what other bad news the mayor had for them.

“Yes, him.” Guan drummed his fingers on the table. “I’d heard rumors before, but it’s almost certain now. You’ve heard about his reputation, haven’t you?”

“Everyone’s heard of him,” Zhang said. “Of all the sociopaths in the Japanese army, we end up with Hashimoto. You’d better tell me we can still overpower them.”

Guan shook his head, still staring into the distance. “Our town garrison is only a few hundred strong. Given time, maybe we could rally forces from the west. But no one wants to fight Hashimoto’s battalion, and we have only two weeks until he’s here, give or take. I’ve already sent for a diplomat from the Japanese army. I’ll negotiate.”

“No, you won’t.” Li crossed his arms. “Hashimoto doesn’t make concessions. And you don’t exactly instill fear, Guan.”

“What about your boy from the desert?” Guan turned back to them. “What does he know about Hashimoto? The information he knows might be more important than he thinks.”

“Who cares?” Li smirked. “He’s nobody. Maybe he knows more than he told us, maybe he doesn’t. We won’t beat that information out of him. Kill him now and get it over with.”

“You never change, Bo Li.” The mayor gave him a knowing smile. “Let him live. At least until we know what he can offer us.”

* * *

Sakata’s cell smelled of blood and perspiration, and he suspected most of it was his. He leaned against the brick wall at the back of his cell, sweating into the cotton rags his captors had given him and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return. By now, he knew Li enjoyed violence for its own sake and needed no provocation to use his fists. Sakata’s head was still throbbing, and he suspected there was little he could do to delay his execution. No guard stood outside his cell, but the locked door was a good enough obstacle on its own. He suspected the mayor didn’t have the manpower to spare a guard on someone as insignificant as him.

When his captors had questioned him, he’d told them everything important he knew, which wasn’t much. Lying had seemed pointless, especially since he’d already betrayed the Japanese army beyond the point of no return. Surrendering to the enemy had damaged his honor more than anything he could do now. He realized now that it might have been better to lie and pretend he knew more. But if his captors intended to kill him, was there really anything he could say to save his life? He suspected not.

He heard footsteps, and a few moments later, the translator appeared outside of his cell. She was carrying a paper bag, and when he looked up at her, he could see a bruise on her face. She walked slowly, as if in pain, and her clothes looked like they had been worn several days in a row.

Sakata hadn’t been fed since his capture the previous day, save for the cloudy water from a sink in the corner, and he suspected his next meal might not come for a while. He’d been hungry and dehydrated before, when he was in the army. Once, when supplies were low, he’d taken a canteen off of Sergeant Yano’s belt while the man was distracted, just as his father had taught him, finding with disappointment that it only contained alcohol. As he thought back on this decision, he realized it had been a stupid thing to risk execution for. Other times, he’d gone for days without eating, and he’d gotten somewhat used to the gnawing hunger.

The translator unlocked the food slot in the cell door and tossed the paper bag inside. Sakata pulled the bag toward him.

“You’re Qiao, right?” he said.

She nodded, not bothering to make eye contact. She spoke clearly, as if she’d been translating for a long time. “I’m here because it’s my job. Not because I’m your friend.”

“But you don’t like being here. I could tell that much from the way you acted around the others. We don’t always choose our line of work. They told me the Chinese were savages, but I didn’t believe them. I suppose you think I enjoy killing people.”

“You killed four soldiers, didn’t you?”

“Three soldiers,” Sakata corrected. The door to the prison was still ajar, and he waited for Li to appear or for the sound of footsteps. But there was no sign of the man at all.

“That’s right.” Qiao finally looked down at him. “Three soldiers. The fourth man killed himself.”

“Takagi killed himself?” Sakata asked, though the question wasn’t really directed at Qiao. It was something he realized now that he should have anticipated. “I tried with him. I really did. He didn’t belong in the military either.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about your own life,” Qiao said. “I’ve heard the mayor wants you alive.”

“I’ll be your dog, then.” Sakata glared at her. “Just like I was in the military. They’ll be here soon enough, and you’ll know what that’s like. If they find me, you might even outlive me.”

“We haven’t killed you yet,” Qiao said. “Li wanted to kill you, and we didn’t. The mayor is a practical man.”

“Li does what he wants,” Sakata said. “You think I can’t guess who gave you that bruise? But it doesn’t matter. I’ve been tortured worse than this. I don’t fear Li, but I fear the Japanese.”

She was silent for a few moments. “I understand why you don’t like the others. They can be hard to deal with. But if you stay here and cooperate, you’ll be fine. I don’t believe it’s our country that defines our interests.”

“There’s no way,” he said.

“You’re more useful to us alive. I have no reason to lie to you”

“I don’t care.” He rose from the ground, placing a hand against the wall to steady himself. “I’ll do you one kindness, Qiao, and give you the advice no one else will. Run. Leave this place as soon as you can, or you will learn why I fear the Japanese army. Hashimoto is coming.”

* * *

A few hours after his meeting with the mayor, Zhang arrived at Xinnian Tea, where a pale old man sat alone at a bench. The rest of the tables were empty, and the owner of the teahouse appeared to be busy with something in the back. The old man at the bench had a xiangqi board in front of him, and spent more time studying the pieces than drinking.

“It’s good to see you, Zhang,” the man said. “Take a seat.”

Zhang glanced at the board. “That game again, Wang?”

“I learned xiangqi when I was a boy,” Wang said. “And I could never seem to learn anything else.”

“Well, xiangqi is something.” Zhang sat across from the old man and began arranging the pieces. “More people should try it.”

“I tried teaching this game to Nuo, back when she still accepted me as her father. She never liked the game. But I do. When her mother left me, this game became an obsession. And that obsession was the only thing keeping me going. My new family has given me a second chance to find a purpose. I should be grateful for that. And I like raising children. But still, I don’t have much to do but play this old game. A blessing and a curse of old age.”

Zhang slid one of the pieces forward. “I have news from Town Hall if you want to hear it. Classified, technically. But you deserve to know. It’s nothing good.”

Wang smiled. “How long do we have until the Japanese arrive? A week?”

“Two weeks. All we can do now is try to evacuate the town.”

Wang considered this. “You mean after everything we’ve done, we’re just going to leave Caishen behind?”

“We’ll take the town back eventually,” Zhang said. “We just have to survive until then.”

“We’ve been surviving for fifty years,” Wang said. “Ever since the War of JiaGongsun, it’s all we’ve ever done.”

“You’ve managed to survive this long.”

“Don’t think I don’t know it.” Wang captured one of Zhang’s pieces. “Your move.”

“We have an army,” Zhang said. “Just not here.”

“Oh, I know,” Wang said. “I’m just not going to die waiting for it.”

“I wish I shared your resolve,” Zhang said. “But I must warn you that the mayor can be very stubborn, and you have a family. If we go through with evacuation, you may not be given a choice.”

“I don’t mind,” Wang said. “But it’s always nice to have an idea where everything’s headed.”

Zhang looked back at the board. “I’d thought the great Wang would be winning by now.”

“Move and see what happens.”

Zhang moved, and Wang countered. Zhang’s green tea arrived, and he sipped from the mug as Wang waited for his move. A few more people had entered the teahouse, but none of them came to Wang’s table. It occurred to Zhang that he was probably the only friend the old man had.

“And history repeats itself,” Zhang said, looking at the board. “How many times must we find ourselves in this very position?”

“I’m a slave to routine,” Wang said. “And too stubborn for my own good. I get up and come to this forgotten place in the hopes that my devotion will somehow be rewarded. And I’ll do so as long as I have to. We’ve had wars for all of human history, but nothing deters me from my course.”

“And that’s all very admirable. But if you stay here, you’re asking to be killed.”

“I know you’re just being reasonable,” Wang said. “But even still, I’d rather be here than anywhere else. Not many would stare death in the face when there’s another option available, but I’ve avoided my fate long enough. If anything, Caishen is where I’d want to die. It’s a beautiful town, no? I’ll never forget the day pomegranate trees were put in the town square. I was only a boy.”

“Caishen is all right,” Zhang said. “Events and such to pass the time. Will you be coming to the festival, stubborn as you are?”

“If my kids drag me there, I might. I never really liked parades that last more than a day. Especially since we just got finished with the last one.”

“Well, it’s really all about tradition. My grandfather once told me that if you don’t honor the dead, you have no right to call yourself Chinese.”

“Do you pray to your grandfather? The gangster?”

“Sometimes. Like I said, it’s tradition that matters.”

“Tradition.” Wang laughed. “I’ve been alive for seventy-two years, and I’m not even sure why we have half these festivals. Two weeks is too long for any kind of celebration. You think our ancestors care how much of our time we waste at festivals while the Japanese invade our homeland? At this point, we’ve got more dead than we can ever commemorate.”

“But they are our ancestors. And that’s why we remember them.”

“Nuo isn’t going,” Wang said finally.

“You’ve talked to her?”

Wang shook his head. “I used to go to the festivals, hoping she would be there. I guess I thought since we’d gone together in the past, she might still show up. But I don’t think she ever will. It’s what I deserve.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Zhang said. “She’ll come around sooner or later.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Wang said. “I’m sure she has as well. When her mother was alive, she was distant, but not like she is now. I don’t know that she’ll ever forgive me.”

“She’s your family. Of course she’ll forgive you.”

“I know Nuo,” Wang said. “She used to tell me everything. And she’s been avoiding me for years.”

“So talk to her. You’ve got nothing to lose. And nothing else to do.”

“I know better than to do that,” Wang said. “If she wanted to talk to me, she’d have made that clear by now.”

“My grandfather always put things off,” Zhang said. “When he got older, he said he should’ve spent more time with his family.”

“We all put things off,” Wang said. “You call it surviving.”

Zhang glanced down at the board. “It’s your move.”

Wang slid his cannon forward, capturing the last of Zhang’s pawns. “The game is over, friend.”

Zhang looked back at the pieces and sighed. “So it is. And I’d almost thought the game was even.”

“Clearly, you don’t know me well enough.”

“I’ll beat you one of these days.” Zhang rose from the table, leaving a few coins by the board. “Here, this should cover both of us. I’ll be sure to tell you if anything changes.”

“Thank you,” Wang said, still staring at the board.

Zhang left, noting that the sun had just begun to set. Wang continued studying the pieces, a far-off look on his face.