The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water - Zen Cho Page 0,2

between the fighters, when a strong grip seized her by both arms, immobilising her. She looked up into the customer’s face.

She looked back at the fighting men. The bandit was flinging the customer into a stack of chairs.

A man could not be in two places at once. Unless …

“Black magic!” she gasped. “No wonder he’s so fast to accuse people of jampi.”

“You’re going to learn to respect people,” growled the irate customer’s duplicate, hoisting her into the air.

“What about your master?” said the waitress. “Respect goes two ways. When’s he going to learn to respect people?”

Before the duplicate could answer, a chair slammed into the back of its head. Its eyes rolled up and it slumped. The waitress managed to wriggle out of its grasp before it collapsed with a thud that shook the floor.

She looked reproachfully at the man holding the chair. “Couldn’t you wait? I wanted to know what it was going to say.”

“You’re welcome,” said the man. He set down the chair and looked past her at the fight.

Mr Aw had retreated to the kitchen, where he and Ah Kheng could be seen goggling while the bandit and the disgruntled customer threw each other around.

The newcomer sighed. It was clear he, too, was a bandit. Like the first bandit, he had an outlaw’s air and wore clothes that had seen a great deal of contact with the elements, but he was not at all beautiful. If the first bandit was a porcelain vase, this one was an everyday clay vessel, suitable for holding water or budu or rice wine, as the occasion demanded. He was of medium height, dark for a Tang person and sturdily made. His long hair was bound into a tail at the top of his head, and he had a parang strapped across his back.

“Do I want to know what happened here?” he said.

“Your sworn brother is defending my honour,” explained the waitress. “It’s very nice of him. Of course, now I will definitely lose my job. But I’m sure his intentions are good.”

The clay-vessel bandit looked at her. “You’re a devotee of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water.”

The waitress grinned. “How could you tell?”

The clay-vessel bandit shook his head. “This Ah Lau is always doing unnecessary things.” He produced a small bag from his robes, pouring out a generous number of copper coins onto his palm and holding them out to the waitress. “For your lost job.”

“You bandits must be doing well,” said the waitress, impressed.

The clay-vessel bandit put the bag back into his robe. “You should go.”

“What are you going to do, brother?”

“Nothing you should see,” said the clay-vessel bandit.

“But I want to—”

“Go.”

The waitress looked mutinous, but he didn’t look at her, and after a moment she went.

In fact, the clay-vessel bandit did not do anything spectacular. That would not have been his style. He stumped over to the fighters, undaunted by the broken-off chair legs, plates with noodles still on them and soiled cutlery flying through the air. As he approached, the first bandit ducked and the customer hauled off, preparing to punch him. The clay-vessel bandit grabbed the customer’s arm and said:

“You can choose to stop fighting, or I can stop you. It’s up to you.”

“Eat shit, bastard!”

The clay-vessel bandit shrugged. He jabbed the customer in the neck with two fingers and watched dispassionately as the man crumpled to the floor.

The first bandit rose, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. “I wish you’d teach me how to do that, Ah Sang.”

The clay-vessel bandit was known as Tet Sang to his friends. “You’d only do useless things with it,” he said. He gave the devastation around them a pointed look. “What are you going to say to the owner?”

“I paid him already,” said the first bandit, but he wasn’t interested in Mr Aw’s feelings. He fumbled in his robe, taking out the poster. “Look. What do you think?”

Tet Sang read the heading aloud: “Notice regarding the incorrigible criminals, enemies of the Protectorate, Lau Fung Cheung and his men.” His face darkened. “It was only a matter of time before we started drawing attention, I suppose.”

“At least it’s free advertising,” said the first bandit, who happened to be Lau Fung Cheung. “Maybe we’ll get new business.”

“It’s one thing to be known as men willing to bend the law,” said Tet Sang. “But nobody wants to hire wanted criminals.” He studied the portraits, his head to one side. “You’re better-looking in real life. The artist must be somebody’s cousin.”

Extraordinarily, Lau Fung