The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1) (25 page)

              The men stood up as Xiaoyu approached with the minder.  The minder formed a triangle with the two men who began to speak in a tone aimed at a certain height.  Xiaoyu wasn’t tall enough to understand what was said.  When the men separated, the minder followed one of the men and Xiaoyu was left with a looming figure standing over him.  Xiaoyu looked up to see a familiar face—the stocky man.  The stocky man told Xiaoyu to follow him and they trailed out of the hotel lobby toward the parking lot.  Xiaoyu wasn’t surprised to see the stocky man was headed toward a black
Mercedes
.  The
Mercedes
had the signature of the first one he had been in, but the first
Mercedes
had the signature of the second.  The interior was the same as was the tobacco-flavored aroma.  As far as Xiaoyu knew, each driver had been different but the car stayed the same.  Xiaoyu instinctively opened the back door to the car and helped himself to the back seat.  The stocky man was younger than Mr. Cheung and less wordy.  His relative youth buffered him from so much history.  Xiaoyu was sure Mr. Cheung would have told a story about the Triads out of habit.  The stocky man drove in silence, as Xiaoyu sat in the back trying not to move.  His weight shifting across the leather seat would have made countless noise in the smooth-riding car.  If noise bothered the stocky man, the silence didn’t bother Xiaoyu. 

              So precious were the silent moments to the stocky man that he didn’t tell Xiaoyu where they were going or what they would do there.  The silence made the drive long and other drivers more interesting.  Xiaoyu passed the time with eyes focused on cars passing by.  The car slowed down rapidly before turning onto a hard paved driveway.   The car tires began to whisper on the smooth concrete as the car passed through a chain-link fence topped with rotted-red barbed wire.  The stocky man let Xiaoyu know they had arrived by parking the car in a spot next to a white faded steel exterior.  Rust ran down the side of the building like the rainwater that fathered it.  The stocky man looked back over his right shoulder, letting Xiaoyu know it was time to get out.  The warehouse was half the height of its modern rivals and still only half used.  The Moons favored the building not for the space but for the location.  The building claimed a lot at the end of Catchick Street in Kennedy Town one street back from the coastline and away from the hustle and bustle of the Western District.  The location was quiet and the building was chill—literally.  The building rested in the shade of the trees and taller buildings around it, meaning the warehouse stayed naturally cooler than other buildings on Hong Kong Island.  It was a good place to work up a sweat, if in Hong Kong.

              The bay doors faced the street but the pedestrian entrance was on the side of the building, virtually unseen.  The outside door was off-white with a deadbolt key-in-hole lock.  It led into a steel trap.  The outside door locked from the inside and needed a key to open to get out.  On the other side of the outside door was another steel door with keypad lock.  When the outside door closed behind them, they were stuck between steel doors and needed a key or a code to get out.  The stocky man positioned his wide body between Xiaoyu and the keypad, before reminding the keypad of the code.  Memory refreshed, the lock opened.  The warehouse fit two and a half steel shelves below the ceiling.  The shelves were crowded with anxious cardboard boxes.  A lot of the boxes said rice; others said soy sauce, napkins or chopsticks.  Xiaoyu wouldn’t have been the one to know and the stocky man wouldn’t have been the one to say, but all contents of the boxes were one-hundred percent legitimate—like the warehouse itself.  The products in the boxes weren’t bound for restaurants, they were bound for hotels.  Despite misfortunes like the
Moon Luck
, the Triads had long favored the hotel business.  A business that could blur the lines between gains, fair and unfair.  All Triad hotels operated a legitimate margin and many of the hotels had restaurants.  But food had to be ordered for restaurants and money earned from food sales had to mirror money spent to buy the food.  Restaurants couldn’t sell more food than bought without raising eyebrows.  Hotels weren’t restaurants.  They sold rooms not food.  Rooms were on the books always.  Whether rented or not the rooms stood, which meant they could be used.  There were always a number of rooms that went unreserved at any given time and the Triads used the overcapacity to their own advantage.  A certain percentage of unreserved rooms were always recorded as
booked
, so the Triads could use black money to make up the receipts from non-existing customers.  The Moons were particularly good at it. They laundered money like the ticking of clocks. 

              The organization of the warehouse was enough to make its impression on an eight year-old.  Despite the size or—perhaps—because of it, the warehouse was immaculately clean.  There was no trash disturbing the pristine polished floor.  The boxes were stacked in near-perfect rows.  The space smelled of only floor wax and cardboard.   The warehouse played with Xiaoyu’s imagination as he looked up at the ceiling.  It seemed to him that the warehouse existed outside the normal world or was free from the constraints of it.  Xiaoyu guessed nothing would rot under this roof.  The warehouse was a testament to Uncle Woo’s efficacy at establishing a culture in pursuit of perfection.  The stocky man walked steadily toward the back row of the warehouse.  The space was big enough for another row of steel frames but had been left empty.  Spare wood pallets were stacked in three columns so neatly they formed an exact grid.  Xiaoyu paused briefly to admire the pallets; the stocky man kept walking.  Xiaoyu’s attention was broken by the sound of a conversation starting.  There were greetings and the sound of two forceful hands shaking.  Xiaoyu was unaware of the presence of anyone else in the warehouse.   The ensuing conversation caught his attention enough for him to forget the perfection around him.  Xiaoyu looked forward toward the conversation and saw the stocky man talking to a man much shorter.  Xiaoyu didn’t notice himself moving closer to the two men.  The stocky man and the shorter man seemed to know each other well.  As Xiaoyu approached, the shorter man made eye contact.  Noticing the shorter man’s lack of interest, the stocky man stopped talking and turned toward Xiaoyu.

              “
Is this him
?” asked the shorter man.

              “
Yes
,” said the stocky man.  Xiaoyu was close enough to tell the shorter man was only a half head taller than him.  Realizing he was destined to outgrow the shorter man made him think more about the time ahead of him.  The shorter man approached Xiaoyu with his right hand extended.  The man was wearing white loose-fitting cotton pants.  A drawstring was tied in a neat but forgettable knot around his waist.  He had a vest-shaped sleeveless white shirt.  The bones in his chest were visible through his mocha-flavored skin.  His torso was inappropriately thin but his arms were wrapped with toned muscle.  Xiaoyu shook the man’s hand with a sense of pride.     

              “
I am Master Song, as they call me
,” said the man.

              “
I am Li Xiaoyu
,” said Xiaoyu.  The stocky man and Master Song smiled with amusement at the boy’s sense of purpose.

              “
I have been asked to train you
,” said Master Song, “
Do you know why
?”

              “
To be a Jade Soldier
,” said Xiaoyu.

              “
To be a candidate for a Jade Soldier
,” said Master Song.

              “
To be a candidate for a Jade Soldier
,” Xiaoyu repeated.

              “
I like the quick adaptation, a misunderstood idea about jade.  People systematically think of jade as something hard, able to scratch glass.  But look at it.  Jade comes in many colors and is suitable for a variety of things:  jewelry; carvings; decorations.  The same must be true of you to become a jade soldier.  You must be hard
,” said Master Song, making a shadow punch so fast it seemed to appear without movement.

              “
You must also adapt.  And once you learn to adapt, tell yourself you have learned nothing and start learning how to adapt all over again
,” said Master Song.  The stocky man looked as if he was glad he had not been asked to be a candidate for a Jade Soldier, although it was clear he had been asked to do other things.  The stocky man caught Master Song eye-to-eye and gave a nod.  Master Song tilted his head in the direction that brought Xiaoyu.  The stocky man immediately started walking in that direction.  Xiaoyu didn’t seem to mind the stocky man’s exist.  His fascination with the space he was in and the man who would train him overwhelmed him.  Xiaoyu didn’t even hear the steel doors open and close as the stocky man made his exit.  A readiness came over him leaving residue of added maturity.  He was almost nine years old and increasingly able to do something most would spend a lifetime learning, to control his thoughts. 

              “
Let’s start with what is and what isn’t
,” said Master Song.  Xiaoyu looked at Master Song with an intense gaze.

              “
First, this place isn’t what you think it is.  This isn’t a warehouse, it’s now your home
,” said Master Song.  Xiaoyu ignored the temptation to look around.  He had gotten a good look at the warehouse before he knew he would be living in it.  He told himself looking again would be irrelevant. 

              “
Everything you need is here
,” said Master Song, “
This is your opponent.  All of your opponents, every last one of them
.”  Master Song walked over to a sturdy looking wood frame.  The base of the wood frame had supports to carry the weight of a wood dummy.  The dummy looked like a man-made species of tree.  It had one wooden leg that crept out of its trunk like a giant ant leg.  Three branches, made of arms, jutted out of the body of the dummy.  The dummy stood majestically like a tree while threatening like a beast.  Being both a species of plant and animal, the dummy reaffirmed that Xiaoyu was in a different world. 

              “
This is your status
,” said Master Song tapping on a gray canvas bag hanging by chains from the ceiling.

              “
It’s filled with sand, making it harder at the bottom than the top
,” said Master Song, “
You’ll have to kick and punch a bit higher until your limbs are strong.  When you can kick the bottom of the bag without breaking your foot, you’ll be jade.  But it will take longer for you to become the soldier.  The soldier can break the bag open and make it spew its guts.  That has nothing to do with how strong you are physically.  That’s has to do with something altogether different
.”  Master Song walked over to the back corner of the facility and pointed to something that most people would have missed.  A small gray-colored PVC pipe ran 25cm out from the wall.  At the end of the pipe, was a water valve hanging one meter directly above a small drain. 

              “
If any blood or sweat, you’ll wash them away here.  Tears, you wash those away internally.  You’ll have to bend or lie down to wash yourself.  The water is not heated.  It won’t be so cold or so hot.  That, like so many other things, you will be required to get used to
,” said Master Song, “
And that’s where you will sleep
.”  Master Song pointed to a long polyester bag resting on the frame of the wood dummy.  Master Song walked over to the bag and pulled out its contents for Xiaoyu to see.  It was a cot, the pieces of one.

              “
You’ll have to build your bed each night and disassemble it each day
,” said Master Song, “
I will meet you here each morning at 8:00am.  And we will train for eight hours each day.  I will give you one day break per week but you will not know which day until I tell you.  You must learn to adapt.  You do not have a calendar but you do have a clock.  You’ll know what time it is but you won’t know what day it is.  It will be that way for eight months.  I will bring your food for the day.  No matter what you think it will always be enough, understand
?”  Xiaoyu nodded his head slowly as if still processing all he had been told.

              “
Do not worry, you won’t have your first fight for eight months when we’re finished training.  When we’re done here, you’ll look at your training as the real fight and the fight as practice.  That is the sole point
,” said Master Song.  Master Song pointed to the canvas bag. 

              “
We will start first with this
,” said Master Song, making a relaxed stance in front of the bag as if riding horseback.  He roundhouse kicked the bag with his back leg sending the bag into a sideways swing.  As the bag oscillated back in front of him he side kicked the bag with his opposite leg sending it swinging backward as it came back toward him he stopped the motion of the bag with his fist.

              “
Your turn
,” said Master Song.  He went toward a small cotton sack left unnoticed on the ground by the steel-framed shelf.  Reaching into the bag, Master Song pulled out two white fabric tennis balls. 

              “
Come here
,” said Master Song.  Xiaoyu walked toward Master Song.  Master Song began to unravel the balls of fabric.  After unraveling, he dangled two fabric hand wraps in each hand.  As Xiaoyu came forward, Master Song presented Xiaoyu with the hand wraps and let them pour into Xiaoyu’s hands.  Without words, Master Song slowly wrapped Xiaoyu’s right hand then his left.