“No, madame, it's really not. As I told you, the labyrinth hides a pattern. The sheer number prevents you from seeing the simplicity of the route.”
“Pass me your sketchbook and pencils, Elvira,” Lao Jiang said.
I shook my head sadly. “I don't have them. I left them with the children so they'd have something to keep themselves busy.”
“Well then, imagine a grid that's three by three, a square with nine boxes. All right?”
“All right.”
“The eight boxes around the outside are the eight directions. The middle box in the top row represents the south; to its right, going clockwise, the box is southwest; beneath it the box is west; and so on until you're back at the top. Do you see?”
“Yes, that's easy. I'm picturing tic-tac-toe.”
“What?”
“It doesn't matter. Go on.”
“Well, chi energy would always circulate through these boxes following the same route. Once we find south, we can follow that route. What Master Red Jade was trying to say is that the path chi energy follows is here, laid out using some of these bridges.”
“Do you remember that there are nine square columns?” Master Red asked me. “Well, those are the nine boxes Da Teh was talking about. Each one of these columns is a box, and only one of the bridges that connect them is correct. The First Emperor's master geomancers simply copied the outline of the Nine Stars. As you can see, it couldn't be simpler.”
I was dying to make a sarcastic comment but refrained.
“In fact,” Lao Jiang explained, “right now we're in the center box of the Nine Stars grid. The previous platform, the one we just came from, would be north.”
“And that's also where the energy begins; though don't ask me why, because it's too complicated to explain in just a few minutes.”
“Don't worry, Master Red Jade, I assure you I wasn't going to ask. The question is, where should we go now?”
“Well …” he faltered. “We should actually go back. The chi energy starts in the north and goes directly to the westsouth, but we can't get to the westsouth from here.”
“On that bridge?” I said, staring horrified at a walkway that went clear from the first pillar we came in on to the one in front of us and then to the right. It was as long as two bridges plus a pedestal, only without the pedestal in the middle.
Crossing was going to be the death of me, not because I'd fall into the void (which could happen), but out of sheer nervous strain.
We went back to the pillar in front of the tunnel where the children were waiting. I waved, but only Biao waved back. After all those centuries without use, the iron chains had withstood the weight of one person, then two, and finally three at the same time without a problem. Would that blasted two-hundred-foot bridge stand up as well? It was best to not think about it. One thing was clear: If I had to die, I'd die. It was too late to go back now.
Placing one foot in front of the other, we moved toward the southwest. Master Red Jade went first, then I, and Lao Jiang brought up the rear. The scene was worth painting: two Chinese men and one European woman walking along an iron suspension bridge by the light of whale-oil lanterns, hundreds of feet underground and hundreds more above the floor. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so frightening. I did have to laugh when I thought of the treasures Lao Jiang wanted to take out of there. Perhaps others could after we'd paved the way, but none of us was taking anything other than what we could carry in our pockets. Thankfully, Chinese clothing had a lot of very big pockets.
We reached the southwest pillar and from there went toward the one in the east, passing right next to the central pillar we'd already been on. Two bridges that started and stopped on other pillars we had yet to reach crossed above and below us.
From the east to the southeast in a straight line and from there back to the center, which we were already familiar with, and from the center to the pillar in the westnorth, as they call it. I didn't understand why we had to go back through the center if we'd already been there. Wouldn't it have been simpler (and safer) to go directly to the northwest without doing the whole route from the beginning, backtrack included?
“I had to confirm the flow of energy through the Nine Stars of Later Heaven, madame,” Master Red justified, making a strange face when I asked him.
“Oh, come now, Master Red Jade!” I protested. “All you had to do was take a look at the bridges. However complex the labyrinth might be, it was ridiculous to go back to the beginning in order to end up in the center again. Do you know how many of these walkways we could have saved ourselves?”
“Leave it be, Elvira,” Lao Jiang ordered. “Leave it be?” I raged.
“You don't understand the way we think. You're a foreigner. We believe that things must be done well, fully, so their end will be as good as their beginning, so everything is in harmony.”
Harmony? That did it. We had unnecessarily risked our lives on superfluous walkways for universal harmony?
“As Sun-tzu says, Elvira, ‘The general who wins a battle makes many calculations in his temple ere the battle is fought. The general who loses a battle makes but few calculations beforehand.’ One small error could lead to enormous failure, so why not follow the proper route if all it takes is a little extra effort?”
I wasn't going to reply to that.
“I had to confirm the luo p'an calculations, madame. I had to make certain my theory was correct before we got lost on the bridges and couldn't find our way out.”
Next we went from the northwest to the west and from the west to the eastnorth (or northeast). Finally, from the northeast we walked along another of those two-hundred-foot walkways to the south, on a lower level. This bridge suddenly descended to the top of a pillar some sixty-five feet below. I had memorized the sequence of directions we'd taken, because I didn't know how else to mark the way out. All I was left with was my memory in case anything happened. I used the popular song “Por Ser la Virgen de la Paloma” to hum “north-southwest-eastsoutheast-center-northwest-west-northeast-south” over and over again. That line in the second verse about the “shawl from China” must have had something to do with my musical choice.
“Well,” Master Red said, “I think it's time to follow the energy descending through the Nine Stars.”
So much for my memory trick, and it was sounding so good. “And until now it has been ascending?”
“En effet, madame.”
All right, then. Once again we found ourselves walking along a very long bridge that went back toward the northeast. And from the northeast to the west, and … wait a minute. The sequence was the same but in reverse. Descending meant the energy traveled in the opposite direction, but since I wasn't interested in further explanations regarding why chi energy would suddenly decide to turn and go back through the starry universe, I didn't comment and simply played dumb, following Master Red as if nothing else were on my mind. Unfortunately, the music of Por ser la Virgen de la Paloma no longer worked. It didn't really matter, though, because all I had to remember was that the proper direction on the second level was the inverse of my musical sequence. After that, everything went as smooth as silk: I got the knack of those fussy little steps we were forced to take on the chains, and that feeling of security allowed us to move more quickly. Further, the energy lines were always the same, ascending on uneven levels and descending on even ones. The only thing that didn't repeat was that first bridge on the first level between north and center, placed there in order to confuse. It was indeed all very carefully thought out, and once I understood the general outline in plain language, I felt I could go back up to where Fernanda and Biao were waiting without getting lost. We finally reached the ground after descending eight levels, and I did a little happy dance in my hardy Chinese boots, thrilled to no longer be hanging in the air, walking like a trapeze artist. Lao Jiang and Master Red looked at me somewhat disconcertedly, but I didn't pay them any mind. We'd descended from a dizzying height, surely over five hundred fe
et, arriving safe and sound thanks to our prudence and, above all, thanks to those solid iron bridges it seemed the millennia hadn't touched. I thanked Sai Wu from the bottom of my heart for his good work.
Everything looked different from down here. I tilted my head as far back as I could, cupped my hands around my mouth, and called the children by name. I couldn't see them through that mesh of iron but heard them shout something indecipherable back. The important thing was that they were fine and had stayed put. I hadn't been so sure they would, knowing the sorts of tricks they'd gotten up to on our journey thus far. Now I could turn my attention to these mysterious Bian Zhong on the fourth level.
“Lao Jiang, why don't you tell Master Red Jade what Sai Wu said in the jiance about the Bian Zhong?”
“Master, do you know what Bian Zhong are?” the antiquarian asked. “Sai Wu told his son that there was a chamber with Bian Zhong on the fourth level and that they had something to do with the Five Elements.”
“Bian Zhong are bells, Da Teh.”
“Bells?”
“Yes, Da Teh, bells, magic bells made of bronze that can produce different tones: One is low when struck in the middle, and the other is high when struck on the edge. They're very complex to play and no longer used but are among our oldest musical instruments.”
“How is it possible I've never heard of these bells before?” Lao Jiang wondered.
“Perhaps because there are only a few left in a few monasteries, and we'd know nothing of their existence if it weren't for the annotated scores in some libraries that reveal their great age. Also, they're not normal bells like the ones you're used to seeing. These are flatter. They almost look as if a rock fell on them.”
“Very well,” Lao Jiang said. “Let's go find these bells.”
We walked along the walls for a while and finally found a trapdoor, some three hundred feet behind the last walkway.
“More descents?” I asked.
“So it would seem,” Lao Jiang replied, holding on to the ring and hauling up on it. The door opened with ease, as had the others on previous levels, and we once again discovered those ubiquitous iron rungs attached to the wall as a sort of ladder. We climbed down, plunging into darkness, but thankfully it didn't take long. Lao Jiang went first and soon advised us he'd reached the bottom. Master Red came last, and by the time he put his foot on the ground, the antiquarian had already taken out his lovely silver lighter and lit his methane torch (the very word “methane” now made my stomach turn). Indeed, there were the Bian Zhong, imposing, impressive, hanging in front of us on a beautiful bronze frame that took up the entire back wall, from floor to ceiling and one side to the other. It was filled with those strange, squashed bells, a veritable plethora: six rows, to be exact, and I counted eleven in each row. The bells got bigger as you went from left to right, the small ones on the left being the size of a water glass and the huge ones on the right that could have been stood on end and used as trash cans.
Their undulating designs in gold still shone in the light of Lao Jiang's torch. We later discovered they also had designs in silver, but these had tarnished and didn't stand out as much. They looked like purses on display in a store window, the lovely pointed bottom corners making them even more fashionable. The handles hung from hooks spaced regularly along the six thick bars that stretched from one end to the other of that colossal frame covered in verdigris. In front of this beautiful Bian Zhong, which is what the full carillon was also called, was a little table and two hammers made of the same metal. Each hammer was at least two feet long and was undoubtedly used to strike those squashed bells.
“Is there a particular piece of music we have to play?” I asked somewhat sarcastically.
Master Red, with his usual penchant for analysis and concentration, was walking over to the Bian Zhong to examine it carefully, and since he needed light, he motioned for Lao Jiang to follow. The antiquarian, however, had found whale-oil receptacles on the walls and was in the process of lighting them so he could extinguish his torch. As soon as the room was illuminated, Master Red concentrated on the bells. Lao Jiang and I approached the frame to take a look as well, even though I wouldn't be much help. The bells were truly beautiful, with small raised knobs on the upper part and decorated with floating clouds, made of gold, down below. Both the top edge and the pointed bottom were trimmed in silver, similar to a frieze but with the spiral, flowing shape so particular to Chinese design.
“Here are the Five Elements,” Master Red announced, placing a hooked finger on the middle of the bell that was right in front of him. I moved closer and saw that he was pointing to a Chinese ideogram inside an oval between the knobs and the clouds. It looked like a little man with his arms open wide. “This is the character for Fire, and this,” he said, putting his index finger on the bell next to it, “is Metal. On this one you can see the element Earth, Wood is here, and Water is here.”
I glanced at the Bian Zhong as a whole and said, “I hate to discourage you, Master Red Jade, but every one of these bells contains one of those five ideograms.”
The character for Water was quite similar to the one for Fire, except the little man had three arms, two of them on the right. Earth looked like an upside-down letter t, Wood was a cross with three legs, and the ideogram for Metal could easily have passed for the drawing of a cute house with a gabled roof. That was most certainly my favorite character.
“I'm afraid this puzzle is going to be rather difficult to solve,” Master Red lamented, glancing at the long hammers lying on the table. “First we have to figure out what we need to do: discover a musical sequence using the ideograms for the Five Elements?”
“Why don't we begin by striking those five bells in the middle and see what happens? Then we can try all the ones with the same character and continue with different combinations until something works.”
Both men looked at me as if I'd gone crazy.
“Do you know how much noise these Bian Zhong make, Elvira?” Lao Jiang roared.
“What does that have to do with it?” I objected. “Isn't that why these hammers are here? How do you expect us to get to the fifth level if we don't uncover this musical score?”
“We'd better think,” Master Red said, gathering his tunic and sitting on the floor in a meditative pose.
“Can't I at least try?” I insisted defiantly, picking up the hammers.
“Do what you like,” Lao Jiang replied, covering his ears with his hands and moving closer to continue examining the bells.
That's what I wanted to hear. Without a second thought, I dove into the thrilling interpretive experience of striking (carefully, that is) sixty-six ancient bells in every order and way I could think of. They had a lovely sound, slightly muffled, as if you'd set a hand on them to stifle the vibration but they somehow continued to pulse. It was a very Chinese sound, quite unlike what I was used to but undeniably beautiful. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Yes?” I asked in surprise, turning to find Lao Jiang.
“Stop, please. I beg you.”
“Does the sound bother you?”
Master Red, who was still sitting on the floor, let out a spontaneous and completely uncharacteristic guffaw.
“It's unbearable, Elvira. Please stop.”
Some things never change. When I was a girl, before I began studying those hateful scales, I used to love to bang away on the piano until I was pulled off the stool and punished. The same thing had just occurred over thirty years later, and in China of all places. It seemed to be my tragic destiny.
I set the hammers on the table and prepared to while away the time until Master Red came up with some brilliant idea that would enlighten us as to what we should do with those lovely bells. I pulled a ball of rice out of my bag and began to eat it. It was dry. A cup of hot tea would have done me a world of good, but at least the rice was appeasing my stomach. I decided to entertain myself by counting the bells while I ate. There were only five Bian Zhong with the ideogram for Metal, the l
ittle house, and there were nine with Earth, thirteen with Fire, seventeen with Wood, and twenty-two with Water. Biao would surely have found some numerical relationship among those numbers if he'd been there. It actually wasn't all that difficult: The sequence worked almost perfectly if you added four to the previous number. That is, if there were five little houses, five plus four meant nine bells with the ideogram for Earth. If you added four to the nine Earths, you got thirteen Fires. Thirteen Fires plus four equaled seventeen Woods. It stopped working with Water, however, because according to the sequence there should have been twenty-one bells with the character for Water, but there were twenty-two. There was one too many, and precisely of Water, Shi Huang Ti's ruling element and the one that had more bells than any other. Water was the most plentiful in that Bian Zhong, followed in descending order by Wood, Fire, Earth, and Metal. What had that master in Wudang said about the Five Elements? I vaguely recalled something about their being different manifestations of chi energy, that they were all related to one another and to other things like heat and cold, colors, shapes…. Oh, why had I left my sketchbook with the children? I tried to call up a visual memory, not of what that master in Wudang had said but of what I'd drawn. What sorts of notes had I taken using various animals? Ah, yes, I remembered: I'd sketched the four cardinal points with a black tortoise in the north representing Water, a red crow in the south that was Fire, a green dragon in the east for Wood, a white tiger in the west symbolizing Metal, and a yellow snake in the middle for the element Earth.
But none of that did me any good. There was still too much Water in that huge carillon that must have weighed several tons. I walked away to sit on the floor next to Master Red. Lao Jiang followed me.
“Well, Master Red Jade?” the antiquarian inquired.
“It could be some sort of musical composition based on either the creative or destructive cycles of the Elements.”
Lao Jiang nodded his head. I didn't remember ever having heard anything about those two cycles, although maybe I had and just forgot.