Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 243

out of the open doors past their fallen comrades, the market shatters into a hive of hysteria. Murmurs turn
into shouts. The locals utter strangled cries. The masses stumble and scramble away in a sudden surge of
panic. Covered carts are knocked over. Splintered crates lay belly-up, precious merchandise spilling out like
entrails in the sun as the frenzied crowd races by.
Ratu and his followers storm through the gates, charging like bulls seeing red. The lieutenant’s face
is a mask of equanimity as he lunges into the fray. His crewmates swoop down with fierce cries, their
familiar faces contorted into grotesque expressions of bloodlust.
Around him, the deafening clang of metal on metal nearly drowns out Li’s cries as he shoves his
way to the front.
“Admiral! Why are we doing this? Why are we killing people?”
Zheng He pauses for a moment. He looks down at the boy with an indecipherable expression.
Perhaps it is pity in his eyes, or perhaps it is disdain; either way, the stolid man stalks ahead without
answering. “For the Emperor!” shouts the Admiral, in a voice like booming thunder. The ferocious troops
howl like hounds hunting in the night.
“For the Emperor!”
Li does not think the Admiral has answered his question, but he repeats Zheng He’s words over
and over again, like a mantra, like a lifeline, until he can almost believe it himself.
He follows reluctantly into the imperial courtyard.
*
The once-peaceful garden has become a bloody battlefield. Arched wooden bridges are blackened
with dirt, and the pruned bushes are ablaze with fire. The screams of palace courtiers echo through the
smoky air.
He hears a quiet, unsettling laugh. Li stares at Ratu, who is staring at the chaos with a faint, satisfied
smile. The man’s eyes glow with exhilaration and bloodlust.
“Why are you smiling?” Li asks, uneasily. “How can you enjoy this? Why on earth would you
want to kill?”
Ratu pauses for a moment, surprised. “For the good of the citizens, of course.”
“I don’t understand. What good is death and destruction for the citizens?”
“Death is necessary for a revolution,” the true ruler replies. “Only through revolution, I can rule
the people in the best way, in my way – with the support of your Emperor, naturally.”
Li wonders if Ratu has simply misheard his question, but swallows down his protests and nods,
committing the man’s words of wisdom to memory. At the very least , he concludes, Ratu will make a sage
ruler, if not a confusing one.
Ratu strolls into the palace as if he already owns it, grinning. The young sailor follows, but he
cannot bring himself to smile too. Even as he stumbles through magnificent antechambers with high ceilings
and sculpted pillars, through halls lined with intricate tapestries and flickering lanterns, Li can focus on
nothing but the grisly image of the dead littering the way.
For the first time in his life, Li feels a pang of regret about coming on land. He had longed for
adventure, for heroism, for tales to tell – not for genocide.