The Unconquered-Manuscript

ROMANCE of THE
FLOWER KINGDOM
Book One
An Epic Drama across the Galactic Stage

Spanning the History of Human Civilization
Including that of the mysterious CHINA
Peter Man
“The breadth of knowledge and content Man integrates into the narrative (art
history, world geography, mythology, and literature) is ambitious and often
captivating. This genre-spanning novel is rich, profound … the meaningful
connections Man draws between the various characters’ histories and global
events are both enjoyable and educational.” – Booklife Prize, Critic’s Report
“This is a book that you need to read! … If you love military history - it's here.
Do you love straight history? This book has that too. Sci-fi? Historical fiction?
Mystery? Thriller? You got it - this book has everything all rolled into one … I
urge you to give this book a read. Set aside a week … to tackle this one, and
enjoy the crazy fabulous ride.” – Rebecca Hill
Reedsy reviewer, editor
“… not only a fast-paced and exciting science fiction story .... Mr. Man wants to
impart to his readers, ‘Everything you wanted to know about Chinese culture
and society, but were afraid to ask.’ So, as you read a rollicking good book, you
come away with a lot of useful knowledge about the world’s oldest, continuous
civilization.” – Jeff J. Brown
Author, the China Trilogy
“’The Unconquered’ combines three of my favorite things: Canada, China, and

Sci-Fi–and does so seamlessly (it also features a kick-ass female protagonist,
another weakness of mine) … Highly recommended!” – Dr. Godfree Roberts
Author, How China Works
“… an exciting adventure story, and at the same time, it presents some very
amazing historical and cultural facts about China.… I encourage anyone who
wants to understand China to read it.” – Dr. Francis Pang C.M.
Member of the Order of Canada
Chairman, Concord College of Sino-Canada
“This book is really something else: it's exciting, touching, funny and
informative! … it definitely left me with an appetite to read and learn more
from this excellent author!” – Goodreads Review
“… an exciting science fiction story … The novel is very engaging … I loved
how the author dug deep into Chinese history … This helped me to understand
the economic differences between China and the West, including America.
Those who love to learn more about the relationship between China and
America will appreciate this aspect of the book.” – Onlinebookclub Review
The Unconquered
Children of the Divine Fire
Copyright © 2019 Peter Man
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any
means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
taping, or by any information retrieval system without the author's expressed
written consent, except in the case of brief quotations, embodied in critical
articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the character, names, incidents, organizations,
and dialogue in this novel either are the product of the author's imagination or
are used fictitiously.
Publisher email: stoneman.1eye@gmail.com
Book webpage: https://stone-man.weebly.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links
contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer
be valid.
Originally published in 2018 as Heart of the Dragon – The Oracle
Current Softcover version is Edition 2
Printed by Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing
Available from Amazon.com and all regional Amazon sites.
Copyright © 2019 Peter Man
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 9781799177593
Preface
In the beginning, I had started out wanting to write a story about China.
After discovering that there are already uncountable uninspiring books on
the subject and the world doesn’t need another one, I decided to write about
socio-economics instead, despite the fact that it’s a subject I know less than
nothing about. Then I learned that a prominent economist of the north (we
the north) John Kenneth Galbraith once said, “The only function of
economic forecasting is to make astrology look respectable.” I promptly
gave up on the mundane and went for the stars.
Experts and well meaning friends have advised me to stick to one genre
and one subject. I couldn’t make up my mind whether I should listen to them
or listen to my own guts, if guts can talk. After wasting several precious
minutes on fruitless philosophical contemplation, I decided to go where my
growling guts took me, which was the kitchen. As I unsealed the portal of
the refrigerator and an avalanche of photons from the fridge light flooded
my face, I had an epiphany. It was similar to the one that hit René Descartes:
“I think, therefore I’ll have a beer.” An idea was born and the Shrödinger
Wave Function of my fuzzy logic collapsed. I would write an oxymoronic
fact based science fiction with everything in it, including the organic craft
beer and the kitchen sink.
I had great fun and learned a lot in the course of creating this pièce de
résistance. I must however warn treasure seekers that there may or may not
be a mother lode underneath. You may hit a leaky pipe and find something
odious instead. Don’t take my word for it. Dig anyways and have fun
discovering what’s there. In the end, I regret to confess that while most great
works of art has a theme that holds it together, this book doesn’t. It is after
all just a frivolous fable devoted to the ephemeral epicurean pleasures of the
consummate consumer. Carpe Liber—seize the book!
Caveat Emptor: Buyer Beware! For readers who already know everything
about China, reading this book may be hazardous to your health.
“Mysteries Explained” Mailing List:
https://mailchi.mp/4ef8bbb4c3f1/mysteries-explained
Article: What is China?
https://stone-man.weebly.com/blog/what-is-china
Article: Goodbye, Mr. Rittenberg
https://stone-man.weebly.com/blog/goodbye-mr-rittenberg
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1 Everything is a Lie ....................................................... 1
Chapter 2 There Are No Accidents ............................................. 7
Chapter 3 Unbreakable China Doll ........................................... 14
Chapter 4 Riddle Me This .......................................................... 17
Chapter 5 Sub Rosa ................................................................... 22
Chapter 6 Weird Sisters.............................................................. 28
Chapter 7 Room 929 .................................................................. 33
Chapter 8 Flight of Fancy........................................................... 37
Chapter 9 Freefall ....................................................................... 43
Chapter 10 Running on Empty ..................................................... 47
Chapter 11 War of the Wolves ..................................................... 51
Chapter 12 The Onslaught............................................................ 56
Chapter 13 Sign of the Scorpion .................................................. 64
Chapter 14 Heart of the Dragon ................................................... 70
Chapter 15 The One-eyed Apothecary ......................................... 77
Chapter 16 The Watchers Cometh ............................................... 86
Chapter 17 #1 Corn Gas ............................................................... 88
Chapter 18 What’s in a Name? .................................................... 92
Chapter 19 The Land of Lies ....................................................... 97
Chapter 20 Wealth of a Nation ................................................... 102
Chapter 21 Fall of an Empire ..................................................... 105
Chapter 22 The Warrior Queen .................................................. 111
Chapter 23 The Unicorn Rings................................................... 120
Chapter 24 Oblique Order .......................................................... 124
Chapter 25 Twilight of the Gotts................................................ 130
Chapter 26 Yellow Stone ........................................................... 138
Chapter 27 Year of the Dragon .................................................. 144
Chapter 28 The Collector ........................................................... 148
Chapter 29 Field of Dreams ....................................................... 154
Chapter 30 Sudden Death ........................................................... 159
Chapter 31 Birth of Confucius .................................................. 167
Chapter 32 Wormwood .............................................................. 176
Chapter 33 Rise of the Peasant .................................................. 180
Chapter 34 Girl Power ................................................................ 190
Chapter 35 Stone Man With One Eye ........................................ 198
Chapter 36 The Long March ...................................................... 207
Chapter 37 Mysterious Eleven ................................................... 217
Chapter 38 Hill of Beans ............................................................ 224
Chapter 39 Paradise Lost ............................................................ 233
Chapter 40 The Fable-Monger ................................................... 242
Chapter 41 The Dragon’s Dream ............................................... 248
Chapter 42 Brobdingnagian China ............................................. 259
Chapter 43 Doing a Hudsucker .................................................. 264
Chapter 44 Next Stop, Gaffer’s .................................................. 269
Chapter 45 Dangal with Tiger .................................................... 274
Chapter 46 The Pianist from Gamma Crucis ............................. 281
Chapter 47 The Awakening ........................................................ 284
Chapter 48 Invictus .................................................................... 292
Chapter 49 Quantum Leap.......................................................... 298
Chapter 50 Grand Unification .................................................... 307
Chapter 51 Revelation ................................................................ 311
Chapter 52 Apocalypse............................................................... 323
Image Licences and Acknowledgment ........................................ 334
Why you should write reviews
This book is dedicated to
Charlie Man Dunn
because he may one day want to learn
the meaning of being Chinese
Acknowledgment
Thanks to my friend Michael Pang for giving me the chance to live and work in
China, so that I can witness and experience its meteoric rise. Thanks to Dr.
Francis Pang C.M. for his encouragement and support of my writing this book
about China. Thanks to Jeff J. Brown who inspired me with his love of China
and his books about China. Thanks to Regina Lee and David Rosen whose
advice contributed to significant improvements to the story. Thanks to Brother
Thomas who influenced me profoundly when I was a student at La Salle
College. I was a soldier of his Legion of Mary and had aspired to join the clergy
because of him. Thanks to Deng Xiaoping for not giving up when he was purged
at age seventy-one, and for opening the doors of China, so that I was able to visit
the country in January of 1980 to see it in its innocent splendour. Thanks to my
father who inspired me with his historical novels about the Sino-Japanese War.
He fought in it and had bayonet scars to show. Thanks to my daughter Bliss for
asking me an innocent question many years ago about China which led to the
opening of my eyes and the awakening from my stupor. This book is dedicated
to her son and my grandson Charlie. Thanks to Tai Pang my best friend for
planting the idea of writing a novel in my head. Thanks to all my friends and
colleagues in China who have made my life in China an awesome adventure;
especially thanks to the distinguished Mr. Yang Qianli who is an inspiration
with his lifelong contribution towards the Chinese Renaissance. He launched
China’s first communications satellite. Through him I met Sidney Rittenburg, an
American who had lived through modern Chinese history as a friend and
colleague of many of the Chinese leaders mentioned in this book. Through them
I learned about the China I didn’t know and couldn’t possibly have known on
my own. I’m of course obliged to everyone in my family who have indulged me
and continue to indulge me in my quixotic quest.
Author’s Note:
The average reader may find the usage of English alphabets for
Chinese names a bit puzzling. How does one pronounce Qin? Is
Xian one syllable or two? Fear not. Understanding the intricacies
of the language is not necessary for enjoying the story.
Check the table below for pronunciation aid. For those who
want to dig deeper, join the “Mysteries Explained” Mailing List.
https://stone-man.weebly.com
Abbreviations:
Trad: Traditional script (used in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macau)
Simp: Simplified script (used in China, Singapore, and the UN)
OB: Oracle Bone script (Shang)
BR: Bronze script (Late Shang and Zhou)
Examples of approximate Putonghua (Mandarin) pronunciation
using English spelling:
Cao is pronounced Tsao Sun is pronounced Suen
E is pronounced Uh She is pronounced Shuh
Ge is pronounced Guh Tang is pronounced Taang
Huai is pronounced Whuy Tong is pronounced Tung
He is pronounced Huh Wo is pronounced Wau
Hui is pronounced Huay Xi is pronounced Si
Long is pronounced Loong Xi’an is pronounced Si-aan
Nü is pronounced Nue Xian is pronounced Sian
Qi is pronounced Tsih Xie is pronounced Sieh
Qie is pronounced Tzieh Xu is pronounced She
Qin is pronounced Tsin Xue pronounced Shueh
Qing is pronounced Tsing Ze pronounced Tzuh
Ren is pronounced Run Zhou pronounced Jo
Chapter 1
Everything is a Lie
“Everything is a lie …” – Sage Didymas
ur tale begins not with an opening scroll of “a long time
O ago and far, far away” followed by epic orchestral fanfare.

Neither is there an introduction of “once upon a time” by
a honey-voiced enchantress with fairy-tale music accompaniment.
We have no wizened wizard’s gravelly-voiced narration to set the
tone for a most unusual adventure. And we refuse to use that
morose monotone to mutter another moronic monologue
describing a post-apocalyptic dystopia.
We end up having to make the unenviable choice of either
emulating Homer’s invocation of the Muses, or shamelessly
plagiarizing Dickens’s rhetoric, “it was the best of times, it was the
worst of times,” neither very palatable to the serious readers of the
twenty-first century. We therefore decide to launch directly into
the crux and climax of the unlikely, unfortunate, and unfathomable
events that befell upon one ordinary and unexceptional girl by the
name of Victoria Solana.
The saga began with the tinkle-tankle and the tintinnabulation
of clanking steel. It woke Victoria from her dark dreams. She was
greeted by a headache of biblical proportions. She felt as if all her
bones had become disjointed. A scorching fire raged underneath
her skin. The sweet smell of burnt flesh filled the air. It reminded
Victoria of Chinese barbecue pork. The first addled thought that
came to her addlepated mind was, “Where’s my unicorn?”
2 The Unconquered – Chapter 1
Victoria Solana was the most unremarkable person you could

ever know. For most of her life, she had lived in the inconspicuous
town of Dundas about forty-five miles west of Toronto. It’s a part
of the city of Hamilton and is a short bike ride from McMaster
University. In a small town where everyone knows everyone,
Victoria was singularly adept at escaping attention. She once
bumped into her homeroom teacher Ms. Notrump outside of
school, and the poor woman got all flustered trying to remember
her name. Victoria had such an average appearance and
nondescript demeanor that if she shared a room with more than
two other equally unremarkable Dundasians, her presence would
promptly disintegrate into quantum uncertainty.
Fortunately for Victoria, she was an only child and therefore
her parents doted upon her. She didn’t care a whit about what
others thought of her if she could live a calm and ordinary life in
close proximity to the people she loved, namely her parents and
her two best friends Bella and Jackie. This would be quite enough
for her. Victoria was living precisely the kind of idyllic life that
she wanted, and she was blissfully happy.
Victoria had three faint moles on her face. One was high on her
left cheek where beauty moles are usually located. Another one
was near the left corner of her lip, which is supposed to signify that
she’s a connoisseur of good food. The last one was at the centre of
her chin below her lips, which by the mystical science of
molesophy means that she’s a loving and considerate person.
This is the paradox of Victoria. She was by no means a plain or
homely girl. If one studied her features carefully, one might even
conclude that she was rather attractive. After all, it is said that
“there are no ugly girls at sixteen” … or maybe it’s eighteen. A
sage certainly said “there are no ugly girls, only lazy girls.” In any
case, one thing can be said about Victoria—she was not lazy.
Everything is a Lie 3
It all began on Victoria’s birthday. It was her Sweet Sixteen.

She could ask for anything her young heart desired and her parents
would have indulged her, as long as it was something appropriate
and within the confines of their modest means. Victoria’s parents
were immigrants who spoke broken English with an accent. They
came to Canada with nothing, but they always seemed to make just
enough money to indulge themselves in small pleasures.
“Why don’t we have dinner at our favourite Chinese
restaurant?” Victoria suggested. “We don’t have to worry about the
girls. Jackie can’t come because she got grounded again for
swearing (rolling her eyes), and Bella’s going through a vegan
phase. It’s okay. I’ll do something with the girls later.”
“That’s too bad about the girls,” Victoria’s mom said. “But for
your sixteenth birthday, we should try a better restaurant. What
you think, Daddy?”
“You have some suggestions?”
“I feel adventurous,” Mommy said. “What about Indian food?”
“Can I make a suggestion?” Victoria asked.
“Sure,” her dad said. “It’s your birthday. You decide.”
“It’s just another birthday. Let’s go to the place that we already
know makes our favourite dishes at a reasonable price. Besides, we
go there every year; they know it’s my birthday so we’ll get a
discount and free desserts.”
Victoria knew her family’s financial situation. They were
always tight with money. They had never travelled or engaged in
any costly activities. Victoria had no complaints. She had no desire
for adventure. Heaven to her was curling up in bed inside the
warmth and safety of her blanket with a good book. Victoria loved
books. She was a veritable bookworm. She devoured books for
breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In fact, both her parents also loved
books. That was another reason why the family never seemed to
have any savings. They spent all their money on books, and they
had a houseful of it. There’s an old Chinese saying, “you can find
golden abode and jade-like beauty in books.”
Most of Victoria’s adventures took place within the pages of
her books and inside her imagination. The longest journey she had
ever taken was a school trip to the Bethune Memorial House at
Gravenhurst, Muskoka. It took two hours to get there; but for
Victoria, it felt like a journey to the far side of the moon. When
Victoria researched Bethune for her report, she discovered that his
last will and testament was dated November 11. She would learn
later that this was a very special day. It was no accident.
Victoria shared many interests with her mom, such as cooking,
singing along with musicals on video, and sewing her own clothes.
She had a close relationship with her dad as well and shared some
of his interests in classical music, chess, and watching sports on
TV. While her dad loved to watch European soccer, Victoria was a
big fan of the Maple Leafs, the Raptors, and the Blue Jays.
Victoria’s dad was an amateur stargazer. He had taught
Victoria since young to identify the constellations and planets. He
also told her the corresponding Greek myths, which were of course
the sanitized versions without the sex and the violence.
Victoria loved Cirque de Soleil. Her aspiration before grade 3
was to become a magician and join the circus. It’s a phase most
kids go through. She later became a fan of the Amazing Randi and
Penn & Teller. She taught herself how to do some of their tricks
and became adept at prestidigitation and misdirection. In the
process, she learned the lesson never to believe in magic.
Although Victoria’s parents came from a country where most
people followed Orthodox Christianity, they were not particularly
religious themselves. On the other hand, they encouraged Victoria
to learn about the various faiths and decide for herself what she
wanted to believe or not to believe. They felt that the search for the
meaning of existence was a deeply personal matter. They had a
Everything is a Lie 5
whole shelf of books on the subject. Victoria could read them

whenever she had theological or ontological questions.
As a whole, the Solana family was a happy and contented
entity, consisting of three interacting bodies that had achieved
perfect harmony and perpetual equipoise. They never encountered
any three-body problems.
For reasons unknown to Victoria—and no explanation was
ever forthcoming—her parents didn’t want her to partake in any
sports, physical games, or competitions. It was just as well,
because Victoria didn’t like gym, sucked at dodge ball, and she
certainly didn’t fancy acting like a klutz in front of her
schoolmates. On the other hand, Victoria played a mean game of
chess, and could probably beat quite a few other players at school,
but she didn’t like being watched, didn’t enjoy humiliating her
opponents, and would rather just be a kibitzer. That way, she could
checkmate others in her mind and enjoy it just the same.
Despite living a mostly sedentary lifestyle, Victoria was
amazingly healthy. She couldn’t remember the last time she
needed to see a doctor. She had been extremely lucky. Life was all
too harmlessly and graciously Canadian for Victoria, and Victoria
was as Canadian a Canadian could ever be, ranking way up there
with the Canada goose, lumberjacks, maple syrup, ice hockey, and
saying sorry when someone steps on your toe.
But without warning and in the blink of an eye—or as Goethe
would say, “den Augenblick”—Victoria’s life turned upside down
and inside out. She lost both her parents and everything else she
held dear. She could no longer be sure who she was. Her past life
became a puff of smoke, suspending precariously in the air, to be
dispersed into nothingness with a wave of the hand. By and large,
she was like an ant on a Möbius strip or a ladybird in a Klein
bottle, at a loss as to which dimension she belonged to. Victoria
was lucky to still have her two best friends, but she would soon be
separated from them by a continent and an ocean.
Never having stayed overnight anywhere outside of Dundas in
her life, Victoria ended up half way across the world in a strange
land, trying to survive among people who spoke an alien language.
Meanwhile, she had to evade decidedly sinister and doggedly
determined assassins, staring down the barrel of a pistol aimed
point-blank at her face, and narrowly escaping death in a fiery car
crash. She jumped off a plane mid-flight without a parachute,
almost got crushed by six container trucks during a high speed car
chase, and sank to the bottom of the sea while strapped inside a
car. She dangled from the window at the top of the tallest building
in China, wrestled with a hungry tiger, jumped off a cliff, and
killed three men using one arm. On the positive side, she had the
chance to win the World Series championship for the Toronto Blue
Jays. All this happened to Victoria because, without being aware of
it, she held the key to the greatest mystery of the universe.
“Stop exaggerating,” groaned Victoria as she struggled to get
up. “Just tell the story the way it happened, please.”
Dear Lord! This is unprecedented in the history of storytelling.
The heroine of this epic tale has made a direct request for how she
wants her story to be told. While this is highly unconventional,
given that she’s the protagonist, she does have the prerogative.
For those readers who may find the pompous and hifalutin
lexicon of this literary fabrication discombobulating—or as Jane
Austen would say, “extremely vexing”—the last sentence means
Victoria Solana is the boss, and we do what the boss says.
So let us begin again, with less poetic licence and with minimal
embellishments, to describe the improbable adventures of Victoria
Solana and why she woke up wondering the whereabouts of her
unicorn. As we all know, the unicorn is a mythical beast; it has no
place in a factual story.
Chapter 2
There Are No Accidents
I t was a dark and slippery night. There are many such

nights in Canada during the winter, especially on
December 22, the day with the least amount of daylight in
the year. Victoria and her parents, Michael and Angela, were on
their way home after enjoying a scrumptious and sumptuous dinner
at their favourite Chinese restaurant, the Dragon’s Lair. Victoria
loved Chinese food. She learned all about Chinese cuisine by
fanatically following the cooking shows of the indefatigable
Martin Yan of Yan Can Cook. One might think that perhaps it was
because Victoria was ethnic Chinese, but that was not so. She
actually acquired her taste for exotic cuisine from her mother.
Michael and Angela Solana adopted Victoria when she was several
months old. Victoria had no memory at all about China, her
country of birth.
Michael and Angela were both born in the Ukraine. They’re a
handsome couple with a pleasant mix of Germanic and Slavic
features. When they had the chance, they immigrated to Canada
and left their tragic past behind. They even changed their names
after settling in the idyllic town of Dundas. At that time, the young
couple was in their early thirties. Life in Canada would have been
effortlessly perfect if not for one imperfection. They wanted to
have children but Angela was barren and Michael was sterile.
Michael discovered the possibility of adopting from China.
That option had become available to Canadians since China
implemented the so-called One Child Policy.

The story of the One Child Policy began way back in 1979.
China was at a watershed moment in its history. The U.S. and
China normalized diplomatic relations on the first day of the year,
more than six years after Nixon went to China with an olive
branch, and after decades of the U.S. snubbing Chairman Mao’s
multiple invitations and olive branches since the 1940s.
The Gang of Four, the perpetrators of the power struggle
behind the decade long Chinese Cultural Revolution, was securely
behind bars. The new leader of China, Deng Xiaoping (邓小平;
following Chinese naming convention, Deng is the family name),
one of the few remaining first generation revolutionaries and top
tier leaders of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), visited the
U.S. in the same year. The American public with the help of the
enthusiastic mainstream media embraced this diminutive giant just
as they adored the giant panda bears.
In order to clear the obstacles for the modernization reforms,
Deng Xiaoping said he didn’t care whether the cat was black or
white as long as it caught mice. In a few words, he gave an
invaluable advice to the Chinese people to be pragmatic rather than
dogmatic. As a sage once said, “Dogma is a bitch.”
For the benefit of anyone who might want to understand the
secret of China’s success, Deng Xiaoping openly shared his
formula in a famous one-liner, “China would cross the river by
feeling for the stepping-stones.” Deng was saying China had a long
history of foreign missionaries, foreign traders, and foreign
soldiers in the country; some of these foreigners might even mean
well, but none of them understood China. In the end, China must
find its own way across the river.
With ideological baggage out of the way, Deng opened the
doors for the great Land of the Orient to do business with America
and the rest of the world. It was however not without risk. The
There Are No Accidents 9
West led by the U.S. wrote the modern rules of the game—rules
such as Bretton Woods, Plaza Accord, Washington Consensus,
WTO, Petrodollar, World Bank, and IMF, et cetera, et cetera. They
are cold and calculated capitalist rules.
As the rule-maker, the West can also change the rules, ignore
the rules, or unilaterally abrogate the rules if they wish to do so.
Rules are made for the weak. The West had all the game pieces
while China had none. Those pieces weren’t free. China must pay
to play. The West on the other hand could, when necessary,
conjure up any number of game pieces out of thin air.
Furthermore, the West has a favourite move known as All
Options Are on the Table, which would usually cause weaker
players to concede right away, considering the alternative would be
at least a black eye, a bloody nose, and several dislodged teeth
accompanied by the loss of face. For the impertinent and
recalcitrant, it could be much worse. It’s a game the West does not
play to lose.
Put yourself in Deng’s shoes. What choices did he have? Deng
might have been a communist but he was also a realist. China had
very little resources except a billion penurious people, most of
whom half-literate peasants. In order to survive in the world, China
must play the only game in town. As a big country, China could
endure the usual insults, even absorb a punch now and then, but it
could also learn to play the game, and over time improve the lives
of its people. That’s the ultimate goal of the Chinese
government—whose motto is “Serve the People”—in fact of any
government that purports to serve its constituents. Who cares what
colour cats others may think the Chinese are keeping? As quantum
physicists well know, Shrödinger’s cats are simultaneously black
and white, especially when no one is watching.
Deng sat down at the table, started the clock, and the game was
afoot. China was prepared to open up its heart and mind to accept
Western myths, Western mores, and Western methods, but always

with a twist called Chinese characteristics. By adding a little
english on that Chinese spin and cultivating that certain
inexplicable je ne sais quoi, they would cause Sinophiles to fawn
and Sinophobes to foam. Anyways, tourists and investors started
pouring into China. The future began to look like a glass of
champagne, bubbling with hope and excitement.
The result of Deng’s gambit was, by 2018, China had more
than eight hundred million people lifted out of poverty, with the
expectation to eliminate extreme poverty by 2020. Meanwhile, the
national GDP of China rose from USD 190 billion dollars in 1980
to USD 13.5 trillion dollars in 2018, elevating China to the second
largest economy in the world behind the U.S. These are
indisputable achievements. The good cat has been catching mice.
As the gates of the Central Kingdom—a more accurate
translation of China—opened in 1979, the country was
experiencing rapid growth of her burgeoning population of one
billion, which had doubled in one generation of supposedly failed
Communist rule under unremitting Western embargo. All ancient
cultures favoured large families to combat high infant mortality.
Better healthcare and nutrition had helped most Chinese babies
survive childhood to become reproducing adults. Such unbridled
growth in population can lead to only one result—human disaster.
Confucius says, “A gentleman is moderate; a villain is not.”
Chinese culture has always promoted a policy of holding the centre
and being moderate. Unfettered success causes its own demise.
The Chinese government heeding the philosophy of its own
heritage, as well as the advice of several studies from the West,
including the popular report The Limits to Growth, began to
implement the so-called One Child Policy, with exceptions for
ethnic minorities and people living in the countryside. It was a
more humane way than allowing nature to mercilessly reduce
There Are No Accidents 11
population by disease, starvation, and war. The policy has ended

on the first day of 2016.
The plan worked well enough and the population growth
slowed down. While this inevitably created some new problems,
the alternative would have been much worse. One of such
problems became a boon for Michael and Angela.
At the time when the One Child Policy came into effect, many
Chinese families still held the traditional view that they must have
a male offspring to perpetuate the family lineage. It’s indeed easier
to move mountains than to change people’s mind. This means that
some baby girls weren’t registered; others were abandoned. A few
fortunate ones found their way to the orphanages, and some
eventually ended up in North America with their adoptive families.
As for Michael and Angela, they received the assistance of a
businessman by the name of David Huang, and came home after a
short trip to China with a beautiful baby girl in their arms. That
Chinese baby would grow up to become Victoria, the birthday girl
who was busily texting Jackie and Bella at the back of the car.
Victoria had long silky black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and the
egg-shaped face of the classic Chinese beauty of the north.
Northern Chinese girls are usually described as vivacious, strong-
willed, and at times even martial, like the famous Mulan depicted
by Disney. While Victoria was shy and reserved, and she never
had the confidence to let others notice her beauty, she naturally
shone and her bright eyes were always full of spirit. Victoria was a
rosebud waiting for the right moment to burst into bloom.
“Honey, give your eyes a rest,” Angela said. “You staring at
phone all night. Father, please talk to your daughter.”
“I’m sending food pictures to the Weird Sisters,” said Victoria,
ignoring her mom’s request. “The Lion’s Head Cooked in Chicken
Soup and the Chairman Mao Braised Pork were so awesome.”
Victoria had been best friends with her neighbours Jackie and
Bella since pre-school daycare. The three girls formed a secret
society which they named The Weird Sisters. Michael and Angela
hardly socialized. The Weird Sisters was the only social life
Victoria had. Victoria thought of her parents as fiercely private
eccentrics and didn’t delve on it.
It was a dark and slippery night. The freezing rain made
driving on the rural highway most treacherous. It was not a good
evening for driving. Michael had received a troubling message that
was weighing heavily on his mind.
“Road dangerous,” said Michael, driving cautiously at a speed
just below the limit. “Must be careful. We go home then we talk.”
Without warning, a shadow lunged from behind and swallowed
Victoria and her parents. It was a forty-foot—nay—a fifty-foot
truck, zipping by at what seemed like a thousand miles per hour.
All it needed was the slightest brush and the dastardly deed was
done. Michael could do nothing but watch in horror as his car spun
off the road, while the culprit vanished into the night like the
fleeting silhouette of a ghost.
It would take less than one second for the car to smash into the
trees, but it felt like an eternity for Victoria as the world spun in
front of her eyes. Victoria wanted to scream but could emit only
silence. All she could hear was the serene melody of Bach’s Air on
the G String playing on the car radio. When the initial shock
passed, Victoria felt strangely calm and peaceful. It was as if she
was inside an out-of-control space capsule spinning its way to
infinity. Having no means to change her inevitable fate, the only
thing she could do was to accept her impending doom.
Michael and Angela weren’t surprised that their time had
come. They were almost expecting it. Their only regret was not
having the time to tell Victoria that they loved her, and to tell
Victoria the truth about her background.
Chapter 3
Unbreakable China Doll
he mighty eagle spread her wings and soared high into the
T azure sky. She flew over the snowy tops of lofty
mountains, glided across the golden dunes of a sprawling
desert, and circled above verdant hills and sleepy vales. She saw
beneath her a winding river, churning and gurgling muddy waters
as it raced eastward into the ocean. The sun was just rising from
the horizon. The majestic bird of prey imagined that she was a
dragon as she cast a sinewy shadow on the idyllic villages that
adorned the meadows and the grassy knolls below. While she
cruised through the cool morning air, a harpoon-arrow whizzed by.
Then another just missed her by inches … and another.
The magnificent eagle beat her mighty wings to stir up a
turbulent storm. She flew into a column of rain cloud to evade the
missiles. The cloud was so dark and thick that she couldn’t see
where she was heading. Her body was soaked. Water flooded her
eyes and blurred her vision. Blue and green lightning flashed
around her followed by colourful explosions like New Year’s Eve
fireworks. She didn’t know what hit her but it felt as if 1.21
gigawatts of electricity had singed every neuron in her body.
Victoria Solana regained consciousness with the freezing rain
beating on her face. For as long as Victoria could remember, she
had this recurring dream in which she was a big black eagle.
The car had slammed head-on into an ancient oak. Angela was
buried in the twisted steel. The violent deformation of the chassis
had sheared off the rear window. The freezing rain was pouring
through this opening. Victoria felt the shock of the violent impact
from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. It was a miracle that
she didn’t suffer any serious cuts or fractures. Victoria was
extremely lucky.
Michael was saved by the airbag but trapped in his seat.
Victoria wept when her mother didn’t answer her call.
“Calm down … listen,” Michael struggled to speak. “Leave car
… go home … find birthmark … in diary.”
“I’m not leaving,” Victoria sobbed, “I’ll wait for help.”
“Danger … not accident … no police … find David … go!”
Victoria squeezed through the opening. The road had no traffic.
She figured she had to walk several miles before she would get to a
phone. She couldn’t find her cell phone in the wreckage. It likely
didn’t survive the crash. Why did she insist on going to Dragon’s
Lair? Why did Michael always take this deserted detour? Why
were they in danger? Who’s this David guy? Victoria had no time
to ask questions. Michael was fading fast. She needed to hurry up
and save her dad.
The freezing rain had stopped, making it easier for Victoria to
walk on the treacherous road. She turned back now and then to see
if any cars were coming from behind. She was relieved to see a car
stop near the wreckage. The emergency lights started flashing.
Thank God! Michael would be saved. Victoria turned around and
started to walk back.
Eerie green lightning was flashing in the sky while deep
thunder rolled in the distance. Then horrors of horrors—a streak of
lightning snaked down from the sky and hit a bullseye on the
wreckage. The pile of twisted steel immediately burst into flames
followed by a huge explosion. The lightning and the fireball lit up
Victoria’s face in quick succession. In the blink of an eye, she
became an orphan all over again. Although in shock, Victoria
Unbreakable China Doll 15
remembered what her father told her. She turned around and ran,
and she ran for dear life.
Victoria didn’t know how far she ran or for how long. She had
no memory of how she ran into a half deserted plaza, how she
found a parked taxi with the driver inside taking a coffee break,
how her debris covered face almost startled the driver out of his
skin, and how he drove her home after she adamantly refused to be
taken to a hospital.
Victoria showered in piping hot water to wash away the shivers
and the horrors of the evening. The phone rang twice making her
jump each time. She didn’t pick up the phone and the caller just
hung up without leaving a message.
Victoria tried to think of whom she could turn to for help. All
her life, she had gotten used to the fact that she had no immediate
relatives—not a single cousin, not an aunt or uncle, not a
grandparent. It had always been that way. For Victoria, it was
normal.
From what bits and pieces Victoria knew, both her parents
became orphans after a disaster they didn’t want to talk about.
Victoria had questions but she didn’t delve into her parents’ past.
All parents for their own reasons keep secrets from their children.
Victoria knew that her parents had suffered trauma. She was
prepared to let them tell her when they’re ready. Now her
questions would never be answered. For the moment, Victoria’s
biggest questions were who was trying to kill her and why?
Chapter 4
Riddle Me This
lthough still suffering from the trauma of the evening,
A Victoria remembered her father’s instruction to look for

her birthmark in his diary. When Victoria was very
young, she learned from her mom that she had a birthmark on her
back. Skin blemishes bothered Victoria, but she felt better when
her mom told her that birthmarks would usually disappear over
time. In fact, she felt very much better when she forgot about it
altogether—out of sight, out of mind.
Victoria got in front of the mirror and twisted around to see if
she could find any unsightly spots on her back. To her surprise, she
noticed a red heart-shaped mark on her lower back.
This symbol looked more like a tattoo than a birthmark. But

why would someone give her a tattoo when she was a baby?
Maybe her biological parents used that to identify their newborn
daughter. Why then did they abandon her if they were afraid to
lose her? Victoria had questions but no answers.
Inside Michael’s reading room where he kept his private stuff,
Victoria searched for his diary. The room was packed wall-to-wall
with books, maps, and notes, some of which were strewn on the
carpet here, there, and everywhere.
Riddle Me This 17
Fortunately, Victoria knew where her father had hidden his

precious journal which he called his diary. He had kept it in a safe
place inside the gap between the top of the bookcase and the
ceiling. It was a place Victoria couldn’t reach when she was small
and curious. She stepped on a stool and shone a flashlight into the
gap, and voila! She found it.
Michael’s diary was actually an ancient parchment manuscript.
It was supposed to be full of arcane and esoteric puzzles. Michael
had treated it like a treasure of great value, and had never let
anyone else peek at its pages, Victoria included. The front cover
had a line drawing of the belly of a tortoise shell. Right at the
centre-line of the shell were three strange glyphs aligned vertically.
For the purpose of clarity, the three glyphs are displayed

horizontally here from left to right: . On the back cover
were these three symbols also written vertically: .
Fantastic sketches and puzzling glyphs filled the pages. It
reminded Victoria of the enigmatic and undecipherable Voynich
Manuscript that was in the news recently. Victoria riffled through
the book to look for her heart-shaped mark. She quickly found it.
The page on the left was filled with picture glyphs, one of
which was Victoria’s heart symbol. The page on the right had a
star chart showing planets and constellations that Victoria was not
familiar with. At the centre of the star chart was the drawing of a
flower. This floral symbol looked familiar; Victoria had seen it
before but she wasn’t sure where. In the margins were illustrations
of otherworldly flora and fauna, including the face of a mythical
beast. A small arrow pointed from the heart symbol to a line of
scribbled comment: “To learn secret, decode secret.”
Victoria was confounded. The puzzle didn’t say what secret to
decode. How can anyone decipher a secret without any idea what
that secret is? Without clues, it’d be like trying to find the shadow
of a ghost in the dark. It was hopeless! Victoria gave way to
frustration and rummaged wildly through the books and files.
After regaining calm, Victoria thought of a lesson she learned
from Michael—when searching for hidden objects, it’s important
to use the brain rather than the eye or simply by applying brute
force, and one should never depend only on luck or hope without
thinking and taking action.
Michael had introduced Victoria to the game of crosswords.
She had in fact become quite good at it. She therefore put on her
thinking cap and started working on the puzzle.
“How would Dad leave a clue for me?” Victoria thought.
“Would it have something to do with my birthmark? No, anyone
can tell that it’s a heart. It’s too obvious.”
Victoria read the clue again.
“To learn secret, decode secret.”
But what secret can it be?
The phone rang, and again it made Victoria jump. That rush of
adrenaline seemed to have charged her brain with energy and
inspiration. Something strange happened to Victoria. The room
became brighter and her mind became more lucid. It suddenly
dawned on Victoria that the secret could be the word secret itself.
To learn the secret, decode the word secret.
Victoria knew the answer for the crossword clue secret was
Sub Rosa, literally Under the Rose in Latin. This must be it. The
secret was hidden under a rose.
Riddle Me This 19
Victoria was proud of herself for solving the first part of the
puzzle. She paced around the room carefully scanning for books
about roses. The first section on the top shelf of the bookcase was
religion, the next was archaeology, and the third was art and music,
followed by science and technology. On the shelf below were the
Greek and Latin classics, next were Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall
of the Roman Empire, Joseph Needham’s Science and Civilization
in China, and history books on Alexander the Great, Hannibal,
Julius Caesar, Genghis Khan, the Duke of Marlborough, Frederick
the Great, Napoleon, Heinz Guderian, and Moshe Dayan. The next
shelf displayed all of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets, and the
complete collections of Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie. The
shelf below was devoted to books and journals written by I. F.
Stone, Upton Sinclair, and Gore Vidal. Then Victoria hit the
mother lode.
On the floor and by the side of the bookcase was a stack of old
books, DVDs, Blu-rays, and CDs. The stack started from the top
with a Unitel-Classica High-Definition video production of the
Richard Strauss opera Der Rosenkavalier on Blu-ray. Next was a
Franz Schubert lieder compilation CD. Underneath that was a
poem by Goethe titled Heidenröslein. Another booklet underneath
was titled The Rosicrucian Manifesto.
Next in the stack were six DVDs. The first one was the Disney
classic Sleeping Beauty. The second DVD was Titanic by James
Cameron. The third was the biopic La Môme about the French
singer Édith Piaf. The fourth movie was the all-time classic Citizen
Kane by Orson Wells. The fifth was a PBS documentary titled The
Roosevelts, and the last was a Canadian documentary titled The
Children of Soong Ching Ling.
All the DVDs sat on top of the bittersweet fable written by
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince. Directly underneath
was the Shakespearean play Romeo and Juliet. Then it was
Gertrude Stein’s book Geography and Plays, followed by a

hardcover book titled The Diet of Worms. The next tome was a
history book titled The House of Plantagenet, and finally at the
bottom of the heap—the giveaway clue—Umberto Eco’s
bestselling suspense novel, The Name of The Rose.
To the unsuspecting, this might have been just a random pile of
books, movies, and music, but to Victoria, the stack screamed
roses to her.
Victoria didn’t know how the connections just popped up in
her head. Perhaps it was from the trivia she had been memorizing
for her crossword puzzles. In any case, Victoria was relieved that
she found the key to her mysterious background. She checked
carefully through the stack. Still, she found nothing. Victoria had
great confidence that her father didn’t place all these rose-related
items in one stack by accident. She must go under the carpet.
Victoria found a sheathed Swiss army knife among Michael’s
keepsakes. She ripped the carpet from the floor with the dagger
after moving the stack to one side. True as the night is long, hidden
underneath the carpet was a secret compartment. Victoria removed
the cover to reveal a small jewellery box. It was made of a very
light but sturdy material. The box had a symbol on its lid.
Chapter 5
Sub Rosa
y now, it should be obvious that Victoria Solana was not an
B ordinary and unexceptional girl. Her parents wanted to keep

her in the house, engaging in sedentary activities such as
solving crossword puzzles that wouldn’t draw too much attention.
Now we know why. The Solana family was in hiding. Victoria’s
parents died because whoever they were hiding from finally
tracked them down.
Back in Michael’s study, Victoria opened the lid of the
jewellery box that would hopefully reveal some answers. The first
thing she saw was another symbol on the underside of the lid.
Inside the box was a folded note from Michael and Angela.
Vicky, when you read this, maybe we’re not here anymore.
Don’t feel sad. You are a very special girl. We have sworn to
protect you. We love you. You are the reason we are alive. We
have lived many happy years with you. Go find Mr. David
Huang. He gave you to us. He will tell you the whole story and
take you to China to find your real parents. His company Solvicta
Antiquities is in Toronto. The box has a jade pendant and a ring.
They are yours. Take also my diary. It is a holy book from a
blind prophet that brings good luck and protection. The symbol
you see on the back of this letter is David’s sign. He will show it
when you see him. Be careful. Be brave. We love you,
Mom and Dad.
A teardrop fell on the note as Victoria finished reading. She

turned the note over to find a symbol on the back:
Victoria put the note in her knapsack which she carried

wherever she went. Inside the jewellery box was a wad of one
hundred dollar bills in U.S., Canadian, and Chinese currencies.
Under the money were several prepaid cash cards. A receipt
showed that Michael had stored thousands of dollars in the cards.
The jade pendant and the ring were at the bottom. They were
attached to a red string for wearing around the neck. The pendant
was of yellowish nephrite jade and carved in the shape of an arch.
It had symbols inscribed on both faces.
Sub Rosa 23
Carved on the exterior of the jade ring was a mythical beast

design. It was very similar to the beast faces in Michael’s diary.
On the back of the ring were two symbols.
Victoria pulled the red string over her head, and stuffed the
pendant and ring inside her shirt. She found no answers in the
jewellery box. It contained more mysteries instead. Why did
Michael and Angela say Victoria was the reason they’re alive? Did
they expect to lose their lives taking care of Victoria? Why did
they have to swear to protect their own daughter?
Victoria thought that she would live a simple and modest life in
the inconspicuous and unknown town of Dundas with her parents
and her best friends. Victoria didn’t understand why she was
targeted, and why all of a sudden people wanted to destroy her?
None of this made sense. The phone rang again. The caller hung up
without leaving a message as before. Victoria knew that no matter
how hard it was for her, she had to leave the house right away.
She grabbed the book she was reading, Childhood’s End by
Arthur C. Clarke, her Lenovo tablet, and a change of underwear,
stuffed them in her knapsack, and walked out of the only life she
had ever known. Victoria took one long last look at the beautiful
little house that had been her home for her entire life. This was the
place where she had all her birthdays and where she made all her
memories. This was her fortress and she always felt safe here. She
must now say goodbye not knowing if she’d ever see this place
again. She must now leave the safety of her sanctuary and venture
into the dangerous world on her own.
Christmas would be here in two days. Most of the homes in the

neighbourhood were festively adorned with Christmas lights and
garden ornaments. The lights were supposed to evoke happiness
and excitement, but all Victoria could feel was an overwhelming
sense of sadness and a morbid fear of the unknown. She was all
alone in this dangerous world. Who could she turn to for help?
Who was this David Huang? There must be a reason why her
parents never talked about this guy and didn’t leave any
information about him. She must first catch the bus to Toronto
downtown and then figure out how to find this mystery man.
As Victoria walked past the homes of Jackie and Bella, she felt
compelled to bid farewell to her best friends. She couldn’t
disappear from their lives without saying a word. But what should
she tell them? Would telling them about what happened endanger
them and their families? Her pursuers were obviously powerful
and ruthless. Jackie and Bella were only a few months older than
Victoria. Could they keep Victoria’s secrets?
Chapter 6
Weird Sisters
ictoria lived about ten minutes’ walk away from Jackie
V and Bella. Both of them came from affluent families

living in large homes. Jackie’s grandfather emigrated
from Athens. The patriarch became very wealthy when he invested
in real estate in Toronto. Jackie’s father Alexandros Petrakis
received a sizeable inheritance and moved his family to Dundas so
that he could be close to the Dundas Valley Golf and Curling Club,
where he spent most of his time during golf season. Jackie was the
tallest of the three girls and had a sharp tongue. She naturally acted
as their protector.
The blond Bella was popular with the boys, and the Weird
Sisters had fun dreaming up pranks to play on the unsuspecting
admirers. Bella’s parents were both Canadians of English stock
with a long history in the country. Bella’s father Professor Stanley
Stone taught Astrophysics at the University of McMaster, and her
mother Lorelei was a cryptographer at a government agency with
an acronym.
Conversations between Bella’s brainy parents often revolved
around whimsical topics such as Higgs Boson, Strange Matter, Lie
Groups, Galois Theory, Yang-Mills theory, Shrödinger’s Wave
Function, Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, the Poincaré
conjecture, Shannon’s maxim, Fermi’s paradox, and other equally
impenetrable imponderables. Victoria always thought that Bella
had cool parents.
Professor Stone and Lorelei also came up with strange new

ideas such as the largest counting number which they called a
Boggle. The number was so huge it blew Victoria’s mind. Once
she overheard them talking about the Grand Unification Theory.
They were at odds with those who repeated ad nauseam that a
single beautiful line of equation would describe the universe in its
entirety ad aeternum.
“It’s not strictly science,” Professor Stone complained, “when
we’re trying to apply mathematical tricks to satisfy a reality that
we know very little about. How can we claim to find the eternal
fundamental truth of the universe when we can only get a glimpse
of an infinitesimal amount of information from an imperceptible
iota in space for just a fleeting moment, all of that being limited to
our observable dimensions, and which we can’t even test?”
“And that’s only assuming,” Lorelei said, “that our math is
built on solid ground. Russell and Gödel made a good logical case
that we shouldn’t be so self-assured about what we think we
know.”
Another time, Victoria listened to Bella’s parents discussing
the imperfect human perception of reality.
Nature, according to Professor Stone, was like an elephant
being described by a number of blind people who could only
examine the surface of the animal from a single position. While
they might guess the beauty of symmetry for the elephant’s left
and right sides, it’d be a thankless task for them to reconcile the ear
with the tusk or the nose with the tail, and to fit all the bewildering
elements of the elephant into a single mathematical symmetry.
Does this perception of reality have anything to do with the
strange glyphs on the jewellery box? The drawing on the underside
of the lid clearly shows a hand touching an elephant.
After launching a few well-aimed pebbles at Jackie’s bedroom
window, Victoria got her out of the house without alerting anyone
Weird Sisters 27
else. Jackie then summoned Bella to an emergency Weird Sisters

meeting with a coded text, “Coven call … secrecy level 10 … your
backyard … pronto.”
Victoria and Jackie were huddling in the backyard when Bella
opened the door and beckoned them to get inside.
“Let’s meet out here,” Victoria whispered. “I’ll be quick. I
don’t want anyone else to know that I’ve been here.”
Bella wrapped herself in a warm overcoat and came out,
thinking, “A secret in the middle of the night, how exciting.”
“Girls, something terrible happened tonight,” Victoria said,
holding her best friends’ hands. “I can’t say too much except that
I’ll have to leave ASAP and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Bella and Jackie were shocked into stunned silence.
“I’ll have to go to China to look for my natural parents,”
Victoria said. “I’m going to miss you both.”
“This is so sudden,” Bella said. “Are your parents taking you?”
“My parents are dead,” Victoria sobbed softly, “and if I don’t
leave now, I’ll probably be dead too. Before he died, my dad told
me that it was no accident. Don’t let anyone know you’ve seen me,
not even your parents, and definitely not the police. Be very
careful about strangers in the area. You’ll have to pretend that I’m
dead. I have to go now. I can’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“We’re not gonna let you go out there all by yourself,” Jackie
said after recovering from the shock. “We’re the Weird Sisters,
Vicky. One for all and all for one, remember? You’ll have to let us
know how we can help you.”
“No, I’m sure once the people who killed my parents find out
that I’m still alive, they’ll be hunting for me. I can’t get you two
involved. It’s too dangerous. We shouldn’t use our chat accounts.
I’ll get in touch when I know it’s safe.”
“I know what to do,” said the intrepid Jackie. “Let us set up

new chat accounts using fake names. You’ll let us know your
whereabouts and how we can help you.”
“We can use our secret code words,” Bella said.
As with all secret societies, the Weird Sisters had developed a
set of code words.
“Let us decide our new accounts names now,” Jackie said. “My
account ID will be Atropos. Bella, your account ID will be
Lachesis. Vicky, your account ID will be Clotho. Everyone got
this?”
Victoria and Bella both nodded. The three girls were familiar
with the Greek goddesses of Fate from drama class.
Victoria was always intrigued with sisterly trinities. She knew
about the Three Sisters of the Orion constellation, also known as
Orion’s Belt. There were the three historical Soong sisters who
were the most influential women of China in the twentieth century.
The Hindu religion has the Tridevi, the three major goddesses
Lakshmi, Parvati, and Saraswati. Victoria even knew about the
three influential global think tanks, the Bilderberg Group, the
Trilateral Commission, and the Council on Foreign Relations,
which aspire to create a New World Order based on American
democratic capitalist principles. Conspiracy theorists have coined
them the Three Sisters.
“I have to go,” Victoria said. “I’ll let you know my
whereabouts when I can. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
The freezing rain started to fall again. Victoria bid farewell,
then she turned to walk away. While leaving behind the life she
had ever known and loved, Victoria tried to savour the sweet
sorrow, and not let the moment be lost in time—like tears in rain.
Chapter 7
Room 929
ictoria arrived at Toronto around midnight. She found
V herself standing on Dundas Street—an all too familiar

name—just a few steps away from Yonge Street, the
famous main street of Toronto that’s said to be the longest in the
world. This is the centre of Toronto downtown and the lights are
much brighter here. Light tends to drive darkness away, and for a
moment, Victoria did forget her troubles and her cares. The fears
however returned quickly and created imaginings of night prowlers
hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce on their helpless and
unsuspecting victims. She quickened her pace to find refuge in a
safe haven.
Victoria made it all in one piece to a brightly lit 24-hour Tim
Hortons, the ubiquitous coffee shop in Canada, and planted herself
at a table, fully prepared to stay up all night with the help of hot
chocolate and mini-donuts known as Timbits. While there were
constant customers past the wee hours, very few sat down. Except
for a homeless man who had a glass eye that seemed to follow her
around, Victoria had the whole joint almost to herself. Using the
free Wi-Fi and her tablet to go on-line, Victoria found the address
for Solvicta Antiquities. The company was nearby.
Christmas was pressing hard upon the city. Holiday
decorations and fancy lights festooned the lamp posts of Yonge
Street. Festive spirit filled the air. Christmas music and carols were
playing nonstop everywhere. The Hudson Bay Department Store
on Queen Street as usual stopped pedestrians in their tracks with its

annual Christmas season’s dazzling displays.
Victoria struggled to keep her eyes opened through the dead of
night. When she drifted off for a few seconds, she saw in her
waking dream the glass eye of the homeless man emerging from
the shadows. As the eyeball drew near, it split open and a scorpion
crawled out. Victoria woke up from the nightmarish vision with a
jolt. The adrenaline fired up every neuron in her body. The
drowsiness fled and she felt filled to the brim with vigour and vim.
She wouldn’t doze off again for the rest of the night.
People started appearing on the street while it was still dark.
Delivery trucks brought food supplies and newspapers. Soon, well-
groomed young men in dark suits and fashionably dressed ladies
with painted lips rushed into cafés and restaurants for breakfast and
coffee. Toronto was coming alive. Victoria polished off her
croissant breakfast, crushed the crossword puzzle in the daily
newspapers, slung the knapsack on her back, and headed out for
Solvicta Antiquities.
As Victoria was weaving through the white collar crowd, she
had an eerie feeling that someone was tailing her. Victoria’s senses
had become so keen that she felt as if she could see behind her
head. She was certain that it was that creepy homeless guy with the
glass eye. He had stayed in the shadow all night, and when he left
the coffee shop before the morning rush, Victoria noticed that he
stopped at the door to glance at her with a menacing glare. For a
split second, he looked like an evil ogre in his oversized coat.
Victoria waited for the streetcar to rumble by, found a gap in
the traffic, and shot across the street without looking back. She
then raced like the wind towards her destination. Victoria felt an
explosive energy coursing through her veins. Her legs became
stronger and gravity became weaker. It was as if she was getting
lift from the air rushing past her. She was running so fast people
Room 929 31
around her seemed to have come to a complete standstill. Victoria

had no idea she could do a hundred metres in ten seconds flat
without breathing hard.
Solvicta Antiquities was just a numbered door at the office
section of an ancient downtown hotel. Victoria didn’t see any
company signage. She pressed the doorbell and the door buzzed
opened.
Once inside, Victoria was relieved to see the name of the
company. The room was cluttered with ancient artifacts. There
were Chinese vases, Egyptian busts, bronze vessels, Chinese
calligraphy, bamboo scrolls, European manuscripts, and a pair of
stone lions each with a single horn. Framed certificates covered the
walls. What seemed out of place were two large Renaissance style
oil paintings casually placed against the wall. Both paintings
depicted the gruesome scene of two women in the process of
cutting off the head of a man using a large sword.
By coincidence, Victoria had written an essay on these
paintings for her art class. One of them was Judith Slaying
Holofernes by Artemisia Gentileschi, an accomplished female
painter of the Baroque period who was strongly influenced by
Caravaggio. This extraordinary female artist applied her rare
talents to make a powerful statement against men who had abused
her and yet enjoyed impunity. The other painting was Judith
Beheading Holofernes by the Maestro Caravaggio himself.
Victoria noticed several hidden messages which told her that she
had come to the right place.
A strategically positioned desk commanded the unobstructed
view of the room. At the desk was a South Asian man who
adamantly denied that the company had anyone by the name of
David Huang. Fearing that if she couldn’t find David, she would
have nowhere else to go, Victoria refused to take no for an answer.
“I’m sorry, there must be a misunderstanding,” Victoria said,

showing the symbol on her father’s note to the man. “I know Mr.
David Huang owns Solvicta Antiquities. I have a very important
message for him.”
“Oh, you mean Mr. Waugh,” exclaimed the man when he saw
the symbol. “But he’s in Mumbai and won’t be back until the first
week of January. Would you like to leave a message?”
Victoria’s heart sank. Then she saw something strange. The
man slowly put his index finger up to his lips making the hush
gesture. Then with the other hand, he lifted a piece of paper with
the number 929 on it.
Room 929 was at the end of a long corridor. Whoever rented
this room had given Victoria another hidden message that she had
come to the right place. She was about to press the doorbell when
the door opened. Standing in front of her was a middle-aged and
bespectacled Caucasian man. He had dark curly hair and carried a
hint of exotic orientalism beneath his pale skin and piercing eyes.
“It’s good to see you, Victoria,” the man said as he bowed
respectfully with a slight dip of his head. “I’ve sent out a search
party looking for you. I’m David Huang, your guardian and
protector. Sorry about what happened to Michael and Angela.
Please come inside.”
Victoria was puzzled. She was expecting to see a Chinese man.
“It’s okay,” David said. “I’m the David Huang you’re looking
for.”
He reassured Victoria by raising his hand and showing her his
ring. It had the same symbol that was on the back of Michael’s
note.
Chapter 8
Flight of Fancy
ictoria was so tired that the moment her head touched the
V pillow, she fell into a deep sleep. In her dark slumber she
went to a land of dreams. As happened so oftentimes in
the past, Victoria dreamed that she was a black eagle. She was
flying high under a clear lavender sky. She didn’t understand why
the sky wasn’t blue. For Victoria, dreams had no rules.
Thick sooty smog shrouded the earth beneath her. Victoria
slowly descended in wide circles until she could see the land
through the haze. The air down here was pungent and repugnant.
Plumes of fire in colours purple, blue, green, orange, and yellow
spewed forth from vents in the ground. Alternating with the flames
were soupy fumes that quickly mushroomed into mountains. The
green meadows had decayed into a land of death and desolation.
Colossal concrete blocks and sharp steel struts were strewn
haphazardly all over the land. Victoria’s idyllic paradise had
suffered a devastating disaster of apocalyptic scale.
Victoria wanted to leave this land of broken hearts when she
caught sight of an object falling from the sky. Victoria could see
far with her eagle eyes. She was shocked by what she saw—this
object didn’t have much hair but had arms and legs. It was a young
boy plunging in freefall to certain death.
Victoria folded her wings and plunged after the boy. It was
very dangerous because they were so close to the ground. When
her claws finally grabbed the boy, she struggled to open her wings,
but it was too late as they plummeted inexorably towards the long
steel shards that protruded from the ground.
The wakeup call woke Victoria from the nightmare. She was
safe and sound in a hotel room. David Huang had arranged a suite
in the hotel-office complex where she could rest. After
experiencing the trauma of losing her parents and having gone
through the whole night without sleep, Victoria was at the brink of
emotional and physical collapse. To allay Victoria’s fears, David
showed her some old photos of him together with Michael and
Angela when the couple adopted their baby daughter in China.
Victoria’s tears overflowed when she saw her parents in these
photos. She remembered her mom softly combing her hair while
her dad played chess with her. How happy she was when she took
walks with her parents and they always held her hands on each
side. She remembered how her dad would always show up in the
nick of time to catch her when she fell from the swing or the slide.
They’re only memories now. She decided that she would have to
depend on David to protect her from now on. Thereafter, Victoria
recounted the events of the previous evening, including the
discovery of the jade pendant and the ring, but she was careful to
conceal the details about the letter and her father’s diary. She also
said nothing about Jackie and Bella. She would continue to be
careful until she could learn more about the mysterious art dealer.
By the time Victoria woke, it was past seven in the evening.
She checked that nothing was missing in her knapsack, freshened
up, and called David Huang.
David arrived with a travel bag and Chinese take-out, which
comprised of roast duck and barbecue pork, Victoria’s favourites.
“Prepare for an adventure,” David said. “We’re flying to China
on a private jet. But before we go, we need to make some changes
for you.”
David took out a pair of scissors and a comb.
Flight of Fancy 35
“You’re getting a haircut and a disguise.”

“Do we have to do this?” Victoria protesting with her eyes
fixated on the menacing scissors. “I’d rather we don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry,” David said, “I’m afraid you’ll need to have a
different appearance, even a different gender. Some really nasty
people are coming after us. This is necessary if you hope to survive
long enough to meet your real parents.”
“Who’re these people?” Victoria exclaimed, her eyes turning
red being reminded of her parents’ recent demise. “What have we
done to deserve this? We’ve always minded our own business.
We’ve hardly even stepped outside of Dundas.”
“It’s a long story,” said David, handing her a Kleenex. “Good
thing that we have a long journey ahead of us. Flight time is five
hours from the Island Airport to Vancouver International Airport,
where we’ll fuel up and get your paperwork done. Then it’s twelve
hours to Shanghai Pudong International Airport. We’ll have lots of
time for your background briefing. Now, let’s get to work.”
Victoria felt sad when she saw her flowing locks flew off the
scissors and floated to the floor. It signified the falling of the
curtain on the past. A new person would emerge, and she would
need all the courage, wisdom, and love she could gather to survive
the unknown dangers that awaited her.
Victoria looked in the mirror and was surprised to see a
teenage boy. After getting some coaching on boyish mannerisms,
Victoria could easily pass off as David’s Chinese nephew.
David snapped a couple of photos of Victoria, and then took
her in a limousine to the Island Airport, where a rented Gulf
Stream jet was waiting. From this point on and at least for the time
being, Victoria became Victor So, a Chinese Canadian boy on his
first trip to China with his filthy rich uncle, who had a Caucasian
face but a Chinese name.
Using the hotel Wi-Fi, Victoria sent a short message to the

Weird Sisters before setting out: “Clotho calling, IMOK,
OMW2PVG, KIT.”
Victoria, or Victor, was nervous and excited about flying.
Although she always dreamed of being a bird, she had never
actually flown before. This was her first time. She would be
visiting the mysterious China for the first time, and she would soon
meet her biological parents for the first time.
The handsome South Asian man from David’s office greeted
Victoria as she entered the Gulf Stream jet.
“Welcome aboard,” he said, “would you like something to
drink before we take off?”
David Huang entered after Victoria. He flung a large bag on a
seat. “Victor, meet Raja,” David said, introducing the two for the
first time, “Raja, meet Victor. What’s the takeoff situation?”
“Flight path was approved,” Raja said. “Estimated takeoff time
is about half an hour. Would you like a drink before I join the
pilot? I’m co-piloting.”
“Thanks, Raja,” David said. “We’ll help ourselves.”
“Please allow me, sir,” Raja insisted, as he poured the chilled
Baron de Rothschild Brut into a champagne flute. He acted like the
perfect assistant as he poured a drink for Victoria as well. “We
have bubbly cider for Master Victor.”
Victoria excitedly watched the ascent from the window. It was
an awesome first for her. The lights of Toronto quickly receded to
become a city of stars. Soon the space outside became completely
black except for the flashing light at the tip of the wing. Then the
constellations came into view.
The first constellation Michael taught Victoria to identify was
not the Big Dipper but Orion the giant hunter. The most prominent
star of the constellation is the fiery red giant Betelgeuse as the
giant hunter’s right shoulder; some call it Orion’s right hand.
Flight of Fancy 37
Belatrix or the Amazon star, the female warrior, is his left

shoulder. The most easily recognizable part of the constellation is
the triple stars that form the Orion’s Belt.
Victoria reminisced about the times her father told her bedtime
stories about Orion, how the giant hunted with Diana—the Greeks
called her Artemis—and threatened to kill all of earth’s animals.
That didn’t go down well with Mother Earth, who sent a scorpion
to stop Orion. With one sting, the scorpion dispatched the boastful
hunter. Zeus, the head of the Greek pantheon, decided to placed
Orion and the scorpion up in the sky as two major constellations.
The two gods were however implacable foes. To keep the peace,
they would never show up in the night sky at the same time. Orion
rises in the winter while Scorpius rises in the summer.
When she emerged from her galactic wandering, Victoria

noticed that David Huang had dozed off in his seat. He must have
had a tiring day.
Though it was impossible to forget about all the terrible things

that had happened the night before, Victoria convinced herself that
this was an auspicious beginning of her adventure. She was after
all flying in a private jet. This was the meaning of freedom. She
was like that big eagle in her recurring dreams. She could spread
her wings and fly anywhere she wanted. Then it struck her that in
her nightmare, a boy fell from the sky, and now she knew who that
boy was. That boy in the dream was her. She had that eerie feeling
that something wasn’t right, and that her dream was a premonition
of a dire situation. But it was too late. She was 15,000 metres in
the air and she didn’t have her eagle wings.
Victoria wanted to warn David, but he had fallen into a deep
sleep. She nudged David hard with her elbow … no response. He
was out cold.
Victoria realized that someone must have laced the drinks with
sedatives. She just drank the cider too. No doubt, it would be lights
out for her in a minute. Victoria could kick herself for being so
careless. Angela had taught her never to accept food or drinks from
strangers. How could David be so careless? Why did he trust this
Raja guy? As a matter of fact, how foolish it was for her to trust
her life to a stranger she had never met before. Now at 45,000 feet
in the air with no means of escape, Victoria’s fate was sealed.
Chapter 9
Freefall
ictoria’s determined effort to wake David brought Raja
V out of the cockpit.

“Master Victor,” Raja said, “please let Mr. Waugh rest.
He was very tired today. He must’ve taken a sleeping pill.”
“I’m sorry,” Victoria exclaimed, “but it doesn’t make sense. He
should know better to take sleeping pills with alcohol. I’m worried
that he’s not responding at all.”
Raja thought for a moment and then bent over to poke David
on his chest. Before you can say Vladimir Putinsky, Raja was on
his knees yelping in pain. David had abruptly awakened from his
stupor, and with lightning speed grabbed Raja’s fingers and bent
them backwards. Raja was now at David’s mercy.
The pilot monitoring the cabin camera promptly rushed out of
the cockpit with a pistol in his hand, pointing it first at David and
then at Victoria while shouting at the top of his lungs, “Let him go
now or I’ll shoot you both.”
Victoria learned something about the stranger she was
supposed to entrust with her life. David wasn’t the diplomatic or
negotiating type. He had used Raja’s body to shield his loaded
Glock. Before the pilot finished his sentence, he was already dead,
and he went down with a plop. David fired three quick rounds at
the man’s chest, just enough to stop him in his tracks.
Victoria needed some time to recover from the surprise of
seeing a comatose David spring to life, execute a lightning fast
finger-hold, then hit three bullseyes on a moving target with his

handgun. The entire sequence lasted about two seconds. In the past,
this violent gunfight would have given Victoria a terrible fright.
Instead, she felt something changing in her that strengthened her
physical and mental composition. She discovered a sangfroid she
never knew she had. The traumatic experience did not faze her.
David let go of Raja’s fingers, but kept his Glock pointed at his
erstwhile ally.
“Why, my friend?” David asked, “What can they possibly have
offered you to betray us?”
“They threatened to harm my family,” said Raja with fear in
his eyes. “I have no choice.”
“You should’ve known better,” David said. “The only way to
help your family is to tell me.”
“I’m very sorry,” Raja pleaded. “Please give me another
chance. You need me to land the plane.”
“Raja my friend,” David said icily, “this’ll be the last time we
work together. Take the plane to the nearest airport. After we land,
you’ll take care of the body, we’ll go our separate ways, and I
don’t ever want to see your face again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, thank you, thank you,” Raja said. He got up and walked
tentatively towards the cockpit. David covered Victoria’s eyes with
one hand and fired two shots at Raja’s back. Without making even
a whimper, Raja slumped to the floor.
“Why d’ya do that for?” Victoria cried. “Didn’t we need him to
land the plane?”
“Don’t judge me,” David said. “Raja gave your whereabouts
away causing your parents’ death. I warned Michael, but it was too
late. Raja was also trying to notify his new masters of his failure to
deliver us. I really don’t have a choice.”
David pried open Raja’s fist to retrieve a small device, which
he immediately crushed.
Freefall 41
“Poor Raja had no idea how devious these people are,” David
said. “They contacted me through a trusted secret channel at the
same time they’re trying to compromise him. It’s cheaper and less
of a hassle for them to pay me directly. I knew about Raja getting
the Fentanyl, which is why I’m well prepared.”
“But what about me?” Victoria asked, “Didn’t he put that in
my drink too? How come I don’t feel sleepy at all?”
“Either he hasn’t tried to drug you,” David said, “or maybe
you’re immune to it. Sorry about the violence. You may have
already noticed that your uneventful and sheltered Canadian life is
over. Your odyssey to the truth is not going to be a garden party.”
“Great, thanks for the good news,” Victoria said facetiously.
“How are we going to land this plane? Can you pilot this?”
“Nope; I’m not James Bond. We’ll have to resort to Plan B.”
“Whatever plan you’re using,” Victoria begged, “next time
please give me a little heads up before giving me a heart attack.”
David smiled and nodded. He got into the cockpit and pressed
some buttons on the instrument panel. Victoria could feel the plane
descending. David then unzipped his large travel bag. Plan B was
escape by parachute. He helped Victoria put on a harness. They
would do a tandem skydive.
“Well, chalk up another first on your list,” David said, “tandem
skydiving at night without a legal drop zone.”
He handed Victoria a helmet and a pair of goggles.
“Here, put these on. Don’t worry about the jump. I promise it’ll
be safe and fun.”
David strapped on the parachute with a bit of help from
Victoria. He then headed towards the baggage door at the back of
the plane. He beckoned Victoria to follow.
“C’mon, we’re approaching three thousand metres. It’s time.”
Victoria was very concerned about jumping out of an airplane.
She had to entrust her life to a stranger whom she had met less than
twenty-four hours ago, who also happened to be a cold-blooded

killer. But what choices did she have?
Since surviving the shock of the car crash, Victoria could feel
herself transforming. By now, she had learned how to stay cool in
the face of inevitable and insurmountable adversity. What’s the
point of panicking when you’re strapped to your seat at the top of
the rollercoaster, about to plunge into the abyss at a thousand miles
per hour? You might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.
David hooked Victoria’s harness to his tandem gear. Then he
gave her last minute instructions, showing her the signals for
expecting the jolt she would get when the parachute opened, and
when she should draw up her knees just before landing, meanwhile
repeatedly assuring her that it’d be a joyride.
“Be ready for the wind. I’m going to open the baggage door,”
David warned as he pulled the latch over. The door slid open
letting in a rush of cold air. The wind beating on Victoria’s face
reminded her of the freezing rain that woke her after the car crash.
She shuddered at the thought and braced herself.
It was pitch black outside. David’s helmet had a powerful
headlamp which he immediately switched on. He also had several
glow sticks and a flashlight in his vest. He checked his
GPS/Altimeter watch on his wrist.
“This is it,” David shouted in the buffeting wind, and with a
leap, the two tumbled out of the plane into the deep dark void.
Chapter 10
Running on Empty
avid and Victoria landed safely beside a quiet roadway
D about five hundred metres from a solitary gas station with

a convenience store. The rest was pure India ink
blackness except for the headlights of a single car so far away it
resembled a faint star from another galaxy. The drop was, as David
had promised, an unforgettable joyride for Victoria. The freefall,
the icy wind, the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of not being in
control and yet believing that all would be fine because a guardian
angel was behind her, gave Victoria the thrill of a lifetime.
After disposing and hiding the parachute, they walked at a
brisk pace towards the gas station. The place appeared desolate and
deserted. A half-broken sign at the pumps said, #1 Corn… Gas.
Some letters were missing after Corn.
Only one person worked at the joint. The name-tag on his
uniform said Brent. He was a balding out-of-shape middle-aged
man who looked much older than his age, and whose only reason
for being there was his inability to hire anyone else to do the job.
Brent was reading the comics and didn’t look happy when
customers walked in just before closing.
David and Victoria sat down after ordering a coffee and a hot
chocolate.
“I have good news,” David whispered to Victoria. “A car’s
coming to pick us up.”
“How’s that possible?” Victoria exclaimed. “It’s the middle of

the night and we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“There’s much about this world you don’t know about,” David
said. “I’ll explain later.”
Not long after the drinks arrived, a black car screeched to a
stop outside. It was no ordinary automobile but a futuristic space
age vehicle. It looked like something that existed only in the
imagination of alien engineers.
“Our ride’s here,” David said as he got up, left a hundred dollar
bill on the table, and signalled Victoria to leave.
“Keep the change, Brent,” David said. “We’re not here, we
haven’t been here, and you don’t remember seeing us.”
Victoria admired and inspected the space-age vehicle from up-
close. She was flabbergasted, even gobsmacked, when the door
opened by itself and she saw no driver inside.
“She’s a beauty, eh?” David beamed in great pride. “This
future automobile is designed and built by some of the cleverest
people in the world. Autopilot’s only her most basic feature.
There’s a lot more than meets the eye. The car’s Artificial
Intelligence has guessed with great accuracy where we would end
up and has been waiting in the area. Once I activated Plan B from
the plane, she’s been homing in on us.”
David removed the GPS/Altimeter watch from his wrist, gave
it a determined stomp underfoot, and then threw the remnants to
the roadside.
“Won’t this car be too conspicuous?” Victoria asked.
“Actually no,” David said. “The car’s exterior is made of a
dynamic metamaterial that creates excellent cloaking effects when
we apply the proper electromagnetic fields. It also has a
holographic camouflage to help us blend in with everyone.
“Besides, by jumping out of the plane, we’ve shaken off the
bad guys. Going by land now will really throw them off because
Running on Empty 45
they don’t expect it. They’ll be combing the air for us to no avail.
This car’s also immune to hacking, which is what those people
would do if they try to find us on land. Our navigation system uses
a proprietary quantum satellite encryption technology that makes
us invisible to any electronic trackers and impervious to even the
most capable hackers.”
“I don’t mean to contradict you,” Victoria said, “but the last
time I read the news, only China has quantum satellite technology
and it won’t be ready until decades down the road. Are you pulling
my leg?”
“Don’t believe everything you read in the news,” David said.
“There’s no truth in news and no news in truth. The stuff we’re
using is a prototype based on China’s Beidou (北斗; northern
ladle, Ursa Major) GPS satellites and Micius (墨子: mo-zi; ancient
philosopher and scientist) quantum satellites. There’s still a lot of
work to be done but our secure quantum channel seems to be
working fine. Commercialized products won’t be available to the
general public for many years to come; maybe decades.”
As the seat belt automatically strapped down David and
Victoria, the hologram of a life-sized woman appeared in the
empty seat beside them. She was an attractive Eurasian woman.
She had reddish hair and stunning green eyes. She looked so real
that Victoria tried to touch her to make sure she was only an
optical illusion.
“David, how are you?” the electronic assistant said. “Hello,
Victoria, I’m Moira. Welcome aboard.”
“Good to see you, Moira,” David said. He then commanded the
car’s control system as if he was the captain of a spaceship.
“Input destination coordinates for Vancouver Pan Pacific
Hotel; short stopovers at your discretion. Initiate D30 kinetic
impact resistance and EM impulse shield. Activate electronic
stealth, adaptive noise cancellation, optical cloaking, and daylight
camouflage—make it Buick Lacrosse. Set cruising speed at

maximum warp, and … engage.”
“I’m impressed, Captain Picard,” said Victoria, who was a
Trekkie and had binged on Star Trek: The Next Generation on
Netflix. “What’s the propulsion system of the NCC 1941? That’s
the licence plate number if I’m not mistaken.”
“Very observant,” David said. “This is the Starship Bozeman.
Everything you see is cutting edge technology. We have a hybrid
solar power and hydro-fuel system making use of a nano-
metamaterial electro-catalyst and a 1.1º magic angle offset
stratified graphene supercapacitor battery. In other words, we can
boost our solar power output by breaking up water into hydrogen
and oxygen for emission-less fuel that generates and stores
electrical power when we have no sun.
“We have also added at almost no extra weight a parallel
power backup. The Tungsten Titanium Carbide bonded self-
healing impact-resistant polymer chassis is integrated with a
Lamarr full-spectrum adaptive optimization phase-array rectenna
to collect ubiquitous electromagnetic energy. A levitated
Didymium gyro-super-magnet in a shaped field converts and stores
the energy. For emergency, we have nuclear fuel batteries. Our car
is officially known as Model EP11, custom designed and built for
me by a group of genius engineers from Nio, Tesla, and Daimler.
Their work is about two decades ahead of the times. We want to be
ready when the China Sun fusion reactors come on line and deliver
power by wireless technology, which by the way, is already under
development by a Chinese unicorn I’ve invested in. This EP11 is
the future. She’s smart, she’s green, and she runs on empty.”
Chapter 11
War of the Wolves
he year was 209 BCE. Two years earlier, Mars aligned

T with Antares of Scorpius presaging great wars. A year
after the heavenly sign, Qin Shihuang, the great emperor
of the Qin Empire of unified China passed away. The country
would be engulfed in war. For the Eastern Wolf (东胡; dong-hu,
meaning eastern barbarian), it was a good omen. They loved war
and a great war was what they wanted.
The camp of the Eastern Wolf Confederation was all agog with
excitement and activity. The moment had finally arrived. The order
had come down for all men to prepare for the battle they had been
hankering for. This would be the battle to end all battles.
The Tengri (chief) of the Eastern Wolf Confederation had
gathered two hundred thousand bows, the largest army ever
assembled by the northern nomads. Their enemy and erstwhile kin,
Modred (冒顿: mao-dun; dialect: mo-du, reigned 209‒174 BCE),
the murderer of his father the Hunnu Tuman (头曼; tou-man, title
of a tribe’s chief, sometimes adopted as name), could muster at
most forty thousand Huns (匈奴; xiong’nu, dialect: Hun’nu; proto-
Hun) with only ten thousand men he could truly call loyal.
Modred must be mad, and the Huns must be crazy to follow
him into the jaws of the ravenous Eastern Wolves. Everyone
expected Modred to slip away during the night. Instead he rode out
early in the morning seeking battle. It was his death wish, but so be
it. The oracle had spoken; it was going to be a slaughter. The
Eastern Wolf tribes had been looking forward to this for a long
time.
Only one person in the Eastern Wolf tribes was not enthusiastic
about fighting on this day. He was a young man by the name of
Lone Wolf. He was the adopted son of one of the great chiefs, who
was also called the Tuman by his tribe.
Lone Wolf was feeding his horses, talking to them to calm
their nerves, and making sure his weapons were in working order.
Two armed men rode by and one of them deliberately knocked the
arrows out of Lone Wolf’s quiver with his spear.
“Oops, sorry,” said White Wolf, the eldest son of the Eastern
Wolf’s Tuman, “I didn’t know you were joining us.”
“You don’t have to come if you're afraid,” said North Wolf, the
younger brother of White Wolf. “Just stay here with the women
and make sure you clean all the horse shit.”
Both men burst out laughing as they galloped off to marshal
their men.
Lone Wolf ignored the insults and stooped to pick up his
arrows. He wasn’t going to get angry at the Tuman’s sons, his
adoptive brothers. Someone picked up an arrow and handed it to
him. Lone Wolf turned to see a pair of stunning green eyes on the
face of a young girl with Eurasian features.
“Wolf Star, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Lone Wolf exclaimed.
“Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since your betrothal.”
“I’ve been spending time with my future husband’s tribe,”
Wolf Star said. “We’re going to have the ceremony after the battle.
He has a big family. Everyone wants to know me. Just listening to
everyone talk all at once drives me crazy.”
“Do you know what your future tribe plans to do after the
battle?” Lone Wolf asked. “Will they go to the north? If you go
away, I’ll be losing a good friend.”
War of the Wolves 49
“I’ll be losing a good friend too,” said Wolf Star with tears
welling up in her eyes. “I already miss the times we tell each other
amazing stories under the stars. It’s hard to know what’ll happen
after the battle. Just in case we don’t see each other, I’ve come to
say goodbye.”
Lone Wolf stared at Wolf Star for a few seconds in awkward
silence. He wondered if what he was about to do was appropriate.
“Tell me, Wolf Star, why are they planning your ceremony
after the battle? Are they so sure we’ll win?”
“Everyone is confident of a great victory,” Wolf Star said.
“And that’s the other thing I want to talk to you about. I hear
gossip that you’ve been advising the Tuman not to join the war
against the Huns. People are saying bad things about you. You’ve
got to be careful. Sometimes, an arrow in the battlefield can come
from your back.”
“I know,” Lone Wolf said, “I’ve been telling anyone who
listens that this war won’t end well for us, but no one believes me.
I’m like Cassandra of the Wooden Horse story. People don’t want
to hear the truth because they’ve invested too much energy
defending the lies. The oracle says that there’ll be great slaughter,
but it doesn’t say by which side. We only hear what our prejudice
wants us to hear. That’s how the wealthiest man Croesus lost
everything he owned.
“I want you to listen carefully and do as I say. Go back to your
camp. Prepare dry food and water to last for at least half a moon.
Get sheep, goats, and horses. Take your wolfdogs as well. Think of
it as a hunting expedition. Go to the east gate. Lupalina, your
kinfolk, is there with a group of women and children. Join up with
her. Trust me; it’ll save your life.”
“But what about my future husband?”
“Go say goodbye to him as well. We’re all going into the
slaughterhouse. No one knows who’ll emerge unscathed. We’ll
leave it to the gods. For me, I’m under the cruel spell of
Cassandra’s curse; but for you, do as I say and you’ll survive. As
the old saying goes, ‘keep the mountains green and we‘ll always
have firewood.’ The survival of our tribe depends on the women
and children. You must stay alive.”
Lone Wolf looked on as Wolf Star scurried off. What a strange
looking girl with her red hair, green eyes, and fair skin. Just like
him, she was an outcast. Wolf Star was fifteen or sixteen. She was
just a child when Lone Wolf first joined the tribe three years ago.
Lone Wolf was eighteen at the time. For some reason, they hit it
off immediately, as if they had known each other forever. They
even remained friends after Wolf Star was pledged to someone
from a neighbouring tribe.
Wolf Star and Lupalina were the Jen’s (阏氏; pronounced Yan
Shi, title for the wife of the tribal chief) kinfolk from faraway
lands. Their tribe had migrated slowly over a hundred years from
the west, across the Celestial Mountain ( 天山 : tian-shan) and
beyond the ends of the known world. They joined the Wolf tribes
when their chieftain gave his daughter to the Tuman for marriage.
The alliance produced two strapping sons. The elder son was
named White Wolf, and the younger, North Wolf.
Lone Wolf’s memory went back to the day he woke up near the
Tuman’s camp. He was wrapped in a black shroud. He felt as if all
his bones had become disjointed. A scorching fire raged
underneath his skin. The Tuman saved his life by throwing him
into an icy stream and having Lupalina nurse him back from the
edge of death. For some time, he couldn’t remember his name and
only had fuzzy images of his past life.
Lady Fortune smiled on the mysterious young man when the
Tuman decided to adopt him and give him the name Lone Wolf.
Over the years, memories began to drift back. His family didn’t
leave him to die in the wilderness because of some strange disease.
War of the Wolves 51
He had a name that meant dragon and he had an amazing history.

But for now, he must repay the kindness of the Tuman and help his
Wolf tribe survive the onslaught of the Huns.
Lone Wolf inspected his sabre which he named Luna. He had
forged it from scratch. Lone Wolf didn’t learn sword-making from
anyone. He got the skill and knowledge from his own memory.
The sabre turned out to be of surpassing beauty and strength. It
easily sliced through four horse carcasses in one slash. Luna was
likely the most fearsome weapon in the whole tribe.
A horseman rode over with a message from the Tuman.
“Lone wolf, the Tuman has summoned you to be his spear
carrier today. Follow me.”
Upon receiving the order, Lone Wolf put on his mantle, which
he had fashioned from his black shroud, and mounted his steed of
ebony black. He had attached black eagle feathers on the mantle,
so that when he rode, he would resemble the angel of death,
descended on earth to strike fear into the hearts of mere mortals.
The Tuman had a large spear which was the symbol of his
authority, prestige, and power. A trusted chieftain usually carried it
beside the Tuman whenever he rode in public. It was a great
honour to be the Tuman’s spear carrier, especially for a major
battle. Lone Wolf didn’t know what prompted the Tuman to make
him the spear carrier on this day, but he was glad that he would be
close to the Tuman, and therefore he could protect his adoptive
father from harm.
Chapter 12
The Onslaught
WARNING: Graphic description within of Homeric battle

that is extremely disturbing and may cause psychological
trauma. Although such violence occurs every day, some of
which we may even be a party to, we’re normally shielded
from them by our benevolent press and by our own self-
defence faculties to ignore and forget. For those who need
protection from the truth, please avert your eyes and ears,
skip to the next chapter, lay down the book, fall upon your
knees, and pray to the gods to deliver us from evil. Parents
should make sure children do not read the last part of this
chapter without supervision. You’ve been warned!
nce fully armed and marshalled, the Eastern Wolf
O tribesmen rode out of camp to occupy their marked

positions at the battlefield, which was an immense
stretch of cavalry terrain facing a ridge cut through by a wide
gorge. It was the first time Lone Wolf feasted his eyes on such a
wondrous sight. Words cannot properly describe the breathless
grandeur of two hundred thousand men on horseback moving
about and lining up on a vast plain. It’s no wonder the human spirit
is enamoured of war. The pomp, the pageantry, the bravado, and
the camaraderie can readily conjure up an endless admixture of
adrenalin and endorphins, driving the morons into a bloodthirsty
frenzy and mutual assured destruction.
As expected, Modred took up a defensive position in front of
the gorge, ready to turn tail any time and escape through the pass
The Onslaught 53
behind him. It made no difference to the Eastern Wolves how

Modred deployed his men. With their huge advantage in numbers
over the Huns, the Eastern Wolves were confident that they would
overwhelm Modred’s puny army with one charge.
According to legend, the Huns and the Eastern Wolves came
from the same ancestral tribe that originated in the Wolf Mountain
(狼山; lang-shan), which is a part of the Great Green Mountain
Range (大青山; da-qing-shan) known today as Yin’shan (阴山),
the Shaded Mountain. The early Wolf tribe went south past the
great loop of the Yellow River into the area known as Ordos (河套;
he-tao, river pocket). They made contact with the Shang (商; 16th
century to 1046 BCE), the earliest archaeologically proven dynasty
of China and the progenitor of the Chinese civilization, fought
great wars against them, eventually became allies, and made a
name for themselves in the historical records of China as Guifang
(鬼方; known in our story as the Gotts), the Land of Spirits.
On this day, the two descendant branches of the ancient Wolf
tribe met as enemies on the battlefield. The Tengri of the Eastern
Wolf Confederation, supported by his chiefs, one of whom being
Lone Wolf’s Tuman, agreed to hold a parley with Modred and his
lieutenants. It was a customary and perfunctory gesture of peace
conducted by the warring parties before the butchery began. The
two groups met at the middle and started their verbal jousting.
“Modred, the tribes are here because of your egregious act of
patricide,” the Tengri opened the attack by taking the high moral
ground. “How do you defend your heinous behaviour?”
“Respected elders and cousins,” Modred pleaded, “you must
not judge too rashly. My father—rest his soul—made me the
hereditary son, but then under the evil spell of his cursèd
concubine, he sent me as a hostage to the remote western kingdom
of Yossi (月氏; yue-zhi, which later migrated west to take over the
Greco-Bactrian kingdom), where they treated me worse than a
sand scorpion. Then my loving father attacked Yossi, fully

expecting them to kill me in revenge. What would you have done
to survive? Am I allowed to defend myself?
“To save my own skin, I stole Yossi’s best horses and escaped
back to the Great Green Mountain, cheating death many times on
the way. When the common Huns welcomed me back as a hero,
my dear father decided that I wasn’t so easy to kill. Thereupon he
gave me ten thousand bows and used me as a blunt instrument. If I
expanded his land holdings, that’d be great. If I didn’t succeed,
he’d have a great excuse to kill me. If I got killed in the process,
then someone would’ve done the dirty deed for him. Hence, I
risked my neck every day while the concubine and her sons sat at
my father’s table, wining and dining on the fruits of my labour,
trying to usurp what should rightfully belong to me.
“I learned long ago that you do not own anything that you
cannot defend. The tribe of the Huns belongs to me, not to some
mealy-mouthed parasites that crawled out of the womb of a
slithering strumpet. If I don’t defend what’s mine, who will? Put
yourself in my shoes. What would you have done?”
“That’s a fine tale,” the Tengri rebuked. “But your father the
Tuman, bless his soul, gave you your life, and he had the right to
take it back. You on the other hand have no right to kill him.”
“Hear! Hear!” The Eastern Wolf chiefs nodded and shouted in
agreement.
“My Wolf brothers,” Modred rebutted, “if you must persecute
me on this one lie, then I will argue that I did not kill my father. He
was killed by his own people’s arrows.”
“I don’t think any congregation of the elders will accept your
duplicitous argument,” the Tengri said. “We already know the full
account of the events. You made whistle arrows to train your
archers. First you shot your whistle arrow towards your steed.
When some archers balked, you killed the archers. Then you shot
The Onslaught 55
your whistle arrow towards your concubine. The archers of course

balked. You again killed the archers. Finally, when you shot your
whistle arrow towards the Tuman’s steed and the archers let loose
their arrows, you knew they’re ready.
“That was how the Tuman got killed during his last hunting
expedition. All you needed to do was to send a whistle arrow
towards your unsuspecting father and he was instantly killed by
your archers. It may not be your arrows, but you’re culpable for
your father’s death.”
“Guilty,” the rest of the Eastern Wolf chiefs concurred. “Guilty
as charged.”
“My dear Tengri,” Modred countered. “With all due respect, I
won’t speak with such high morals as if you’re some shining
beacon on a hill. You didn’t judge me when you first heard of my
family troubles. Instead, you came asking for my mighty steed
from Yossi. You didn’t accuse me of anything when you got my
horse. But that was too easy; your greed urged you to ask me for
my beautiful wife—my own wife whom I loved. Against the
advice of all my people who urged me to fight, I swallowed the
insult and sent you my wife.
“Did you accuse me of anything? No. I didn’t hear any talk of
my guilt then. But your greed has no bounds. You believed that
you could get anything you wanted from me and you asked for my
land. When my counsels thought that I would submit as before and
advised me to cede our pastures, I cut their throats right there with
my own hands. Without land, I’m nothing, the Huns are nothing.
I’ll never cede an inch of land to you or your ilk.
“When you learn that you’re not getting any land from me,
suddenly, I’m guilty of all kinds of crime. If I’m guilty of staying
alive, then so be it. Your gilded words are just so many lying lies
of hypocrites. Hypocrisy is a two-headed snake; it bites the hand
that feeds it. Your people may be fools because they live in the
cesspool of your lies from cradle to grave, but we can smell the
stench from a mile away. Your moral law is but a sick farce you
use to delude yourself and your stupefied slaves. My people are not
moved by your holy indignation. If you want our land, you’ll have
to fight us for it.”
“Then it’s settled,” the Tengri said, “this parley’s over. Let the
slaughter begin.”
Once the Tengri and the chiefs returned to their positions at the
front, they gave the signal for the charge. The attack horns blared
and the game was afoot. The massive ranks began moving forward
in unison. The earth trembled underneath the harmonious
hammering of the heavy hoofs, and the rumble sounded like rolling
thunder from Hades, building in a crescendo until it reached a
roaring climax. As if acting in a Greek tragedy, the warriors
danced the danse macabre to the chorus of Carl Orff’s O Fortuna.
Modred’s army quickly retreated into the pass behind them.
Modred the military genius could be sharing his eternal abode
with the likes of Ulysses and Guido da Montefeltro at the eighth pit
of the eighth circle of Dante’s Inferno, where they forever receive
their just deserts from the fallen angels of the eighth order known
as the Black Cherubim. Modred had laid a perfect trap for his
hubristic enemy, and the overweening fools rushed headlong into it.
While Modred showed the Eastern Wolves his meagre troops, he
had a hundred and fifty thousand deployed in a deadly ambuscade.
When Modred told the Huns that the greedy Eastern Wolves were
coming for their horses, their wives, and their pastures, everyone
rose in support of their new leader.
Just like the brave British brigade under Lord Cardigan which
charged into Russian hellfire two thousand years later at the
Crimean peninsula, the first wave of the Eastern Wolves was
destroyed as they charged through the pass. Those who tried to
The Onslaught 57
retreat were promptly run over by their own second wave, and the
cycle of death repeated.
All of a sudden, the wind began to howl, and a blinding
sandstorm joined the mortal struggle. The Eastern Wolves who
survived the ambush couldn’t see beyond their immediate fate,
which was certain death, either at the hands of their invisible foes
or by the trampling of their own horses. Lone Wolf wanted to stop
the Tuman from charging into the belly of the dragon, but the
inexorable momentum for inevitable extinction was irresistible.
The Tuman took hold of his gigantic spear and disappeared into
the fog of war. Lone Wolf had no choice but to follow.
Riding through the pass, Lone Wolf beheld a sickening scene
which he had witnessed in his dreams. Crushed skulls, chopped up
bodies, and dismembered limbs were scattered all over the earth.
The Eastern Wolves were simply feeding meat into the grinder.
The lucky ones died instantly. Those who were halfway dead
writhed in agony, begging for mercy with a swift coup de grâce to
the head. The moaning of the condemned sounded like the
harrowing of hell. Some of the dying cursed God; others asked
why their god had forsaken them. The godless also questioned why;
not why they were dying, but why they had ever lived.
Lone Wolf wept uncontrollably because he had known this day
would come, but he was powerless to save a single soul. They all
died needlessly defending their lies. The routed survivors of the
once proud Eastern Wolves fled among riderless horses in the
opposite direction. They were like dispirited ghosts. Lone Wolf
saw White Wolf and North Wolf galloping away from the
slaughter they had so yearned for. Lone Wolf asked them for the
whereabouts of the Tuman and told them to find Lupalina at the
east gate, but they didn’t even slow down to respond. Lone Wolf
could feel the stench of slaughter thickening. The heavy air of
death weighed down upon him. He must find the Tuman.
A straggler told Lone Wolf to turn back and save himself. He

said the Tuman banner was down. The Tuman and his bravest men
were surrounded. They’re as well as dead, or as the saying goes,
“as dead as Shrödinger’s cat.” Lone Wolf pressed on in the
direction pointed out to him and braced himself for the onslaught.
Lone Wolf could hear three horses thundering towards him. He
took three arrows and drew his bow. As the three Huns emerged
from the cloud of dust, Lone Wolf let loose the three darts all at
once. At the sound of the bowstring singing like Apollo’s lyre
being plucked, the three Huns fell off their horses as one. The Hun
in the middle took the arrow through his mouth and expired before
he hit the ground. The one on the left breathed his last when the
dart went through his neck and tore his throat apart. The third
arrow hit the last Hun through his right eye and took out half his
brain, sending his spirit on a short flight to the Elysian plains.
But more Huns were coming up. Lone Wolf drew Lady Luna
and raised her to high heaven. With his left hand he held steady a
mace with a spiked head.
The first Hun on the right promptly went to meet his Maker.
Lone Wolf swung his cold steel in a sweep and cleaved the Hun’s
head from his shoulders. The next Hun on the left received a blow
from the mace that pulverized his face into a bloody pulp. On the
right again Lone Wolf sliced through the horse’s neck and in one
stroke split the man in half across his waist. On the left he blocked
the next Hun’s spear with the mace and crushed his skull with one
fell swoop. Out in front, two Huns attacked from both sides at the
same time. Lone Wolf threw the mace at the Hun on the left,
unhorsing the man who had never quit the horseback growing up.
On the right Lone Wolf parried and slashed in one motion,
severing the Hun’s arm and shoulder from his torso.
Two more Huns rode up from either side. This time Lone
Wolf’s left flank had no defence, or so the hapless Hun believed.
The Onslaught 59
Lone Wolf had a secret weapon he called the Iron Gauntlet which
he wore on his left hand. He blocked the Hun’s first blow with his
metal sleeve and ran his steel claws into his enemy’s chest,
plucking out the Hun’s throbbing heart for all to see. On the right,
with his bloody mistress Lady Luna he sliced through his foe’s
sabre like it was made of bread, and with one swipe, surgically
separated the man’s brain from his head. Legend said that the poor
Hun lived for several hours before he knew he was dead. The Huns
had seen the devil and decided to let Lone Wolf through.
Lone Wolf found the Tuman slumped on his steed. Every one
of his bravest men had died protecting him. He had no more
strength but he held on to his spear. The Tuman banner had been
ripped off from its pole. The Tuman had stuck the muddied and
bloodied cloth in his belt. He’d rather lose his life than to lose his
honour. An arrow had found its target on the Tuman’s chest. It was
through sheer will the old man lived to see his adopted son.
“Lone Wolf, you’re here,” the Tuman whispered. “Take my
spear and my banner. Go back and save my tribe. Let me die in the
battlefield. That’s all a warrior can hope for.”
“You’ll live, my lord,” Lone Wolf said. “The Huns can’t stop
me from reaching you; they as hell won’t stop us from leaving.”
The Huns indeed opened up a path for Lone Wolf and the
Tuman, watching their passage from afar. Aside from the rational
fear of death, the Huns also respected the bravery and martial
prowess of this fearsome god of war, who single-handedly rescued
his Tuman from enemy hands.
The Tuman was glad that he saved Lone Wolf on that fateful
day three years ago. The first time he saw the young man wrapped
in a death shroud left to die alone in the wilderness, he knew this
was no ordinary man. Today in his darkest hour, his kindness was
repaid in spades.
Chapter 13
Sign of the Scorpion
n eagle floated high in the clear blue sky, enjoying the
A serene beauty of the peaceful earth. With her eagle eyes,

she observed a band of nomads emerging from a
mountain range that separated the sun-dried desert and wind-swept
steppes in the west from the lush green valleys and dark-soiled
plains to the east. Their eastward path followed a stream that
carried the waters from the mountain range into the plains below.
Although it wasn’t apparent at this point, the humble stream
would soon join with other tributaries to form a major river, the
lifeblood of iron tribes that would rewrite the history of China and
forever change its character. The roiling waters would then
disgorge out of the Dragon’s Mouth into the endless ocean
hundreds of miles to the southeast. The nomads called it the yellow
river—not the famous Yellow River, the cradle of the Chinese
civilization, but a minor namesake that was the cradle of peripheral
civilizations which would someday rule large parts of China and
become an integral part of China.
The band had no more than three hundred men on horseback
with about equal numbers in women and children. The whole
group of nomads looked wild and haggard. Their horses were in a
similarly wretched state. A pack of hungry wolfdogs straggled
along with them. These canines were more wolves than dogs, and
weren’t too far removed in temperament from their feral cousins.
So far, they had faithfully taken part in their human masters’
Sign of the Scorpion 61
arduous trek over the mountains, but they were at the end of their
rope and could break ranks at any time.
Upon reaching the foot of the mountain, the group decided to
pitch tent and rest. They were too tired, too hungry, and too
wounded to go any further. Almost all the men wore bandages.
The few that weren’t limping or too weak from bleeding had to
pitch tents with the women while the children took care of the
horses. The sun was setting, but this being summer, they would
still enjoy another hour of light.
A tent of sheepskin and wolf pelts was quickly set up. Several
older women dragged a dying man on a sled into the tent. Three
young men promptly erected a large spear at the entrance. After all
the helpers had left the tent, a woman came out and summoned the
three young men to enter.
The Tuman was lying on a cot. Beside him was the tattered and
bloodied banner of the Tuman, hanging on a tree branch
masquerading as a flagpole. The Tuman was on his last legs.
The three disheartened young men stood by the deathbed. The
one standing closest to the dying chief was White Wolf. He had a
blood soaked cloth wrapped around his head. His right hand was
also heavily bandaged. He might’ve lost a finger or two, maybe
even three. The second young man was North Wolf. He was
limping around with the help of a makeshift crutch. His left thigh
and right arm were bandaged. The young man standing farthest
was Lone Wolf. He appeared to be without serious wounds, though
his tunic was caked with dried blood, probably from his enemies.
The Tuman had called his sons to receive final instructions.
The woman turned to leave the tent so the men could talk in
private.
“Lupalina … wait,” the Tuman said, “you’re my children’s wet
nurse and their mother’s handmaid. You’ve been with the family
all this time. Now that your mistress is with the wolf spirits, and
I’ll join her soon, you’re the only person my sons will listen to.
Please stay and bear witness.”
Lupalina preferred not to be involved in family politics, but she
couldn’t disobey the Tuman. She retired to a dark corner and kept
her mouth shut.
“My children,” the Tuman said, “give me your hands.”
“Baba,” White Wolf and North Wolf called their father in
unison, but Lone Wolf whispered, “My lord.”
“Call me Baba, Lone Wolf,” the Tuman ordered, “I gave you
your life.”
Both White Wolf and North wolf turned to glare at Lone Wolf
with disdain.
“Yes, Baba,” Lone Wolf said.
“I’m sorry, Lone Wolf,” the Tuman said, “that against your
counsel I went to war with that despicable father murderer.”
White Wolf and North Wolf turned and spat as they heard the
mention of he who slaughtered the Eastern Wolf tribes.
“Now that the Huns have destroyed the Eastern Wolf
Confederation, our own tribe of thirty thousand bows and
uncountable animals is no more. Curse the Tengri for his greed.
Curse him for causing death and destruction to my family and my
tribe. I’ll curse him again when I meet him in the realm of the
dead. I have only a short time to live. I can do no more. Promise
me, Lone Wolf, that you’ll stand by your brothers and help our
tribe return to glory.”
“Yes Baba, you’ll recover and we’ll survive,” said Lone Wolf,
keeping a brave front. “We’ll be strong and numerous as in the
days past, our wolf-howl will strike terror into the hearts of our
enemies, and the Tuman banner will fly in the wind again. I swear
to fight side-by-side with my brothers as you command.”
“Good,” said the Tuman, who turned to his other sons, “and
will you two support Lone Wolf like true brothers?”
“Why of course, Baba,” White Wolf said. “Ever since we

saved Lone Wolf from the wild animals, we’ve kept him with us
like a part of the family, even giving him a wolf name, he’s like a
brother, and we’ll always treat him like a brother.”
“Even if I make him Tuman?”
It was the tradition of the Wolf Tribes for the chief to pass the
Tuman banner to the most capable son regardless of age or rank.
Still, none of the young men was prepared for the Tuman’s
shocking words, least of all Lone Wolf.
“Baba, I’m your eldest son,” White Wolf said. “I’m more
experienced and the people respect me. Besides, Lone Wolf is not
of our blood. I don’t think it’s wise.”
“Baba, even if my brother can’t lead,” North Wolf said,
“because he lost the use of his sword hand. I should be your second
choice. I can fight again when I heal.”
“Baba, my lord,” whispered Lone Wolf, meekly adding to his
brothers’ voice, “I agree with my brothers. Please reconsider.”
Ignoring Lone Wolf, the Tuman directed his wrath at White
Wolf and North Wolf.
“Yes, you’ll heal to fight again, but it’s the fighting that got us
here. All of us great warriors didn’t have the wisdom of one Lone
Wolf. When you all sneered at him and called him names, he
didn’t get angry but fought beside us. Did you see him fight? No
teat-sucking Hun stinking of wolf piss could stand their ground
before him. But even more important, Lone Wolf prepared our
escape while we were planning on how to distribute the spoils.
He’s the only reason why we still have a tribe.”
The Tuman paused to catch his breath, coughed, and continued.
“As for Lone Wolf’s foreign blood, remember that the Wolf
tribes are made up of different peoples from faraway lands. This
makes us strong. Your mother came from beyond the ocean of
sand where the sun sets. Her tribe spoke the tongue of the birdsong
and worshipped strange gods in the sky. Your mother had grey
eyes, like a wolf. That damsel from her tribe, the girl Wolf Star,
has reddish hair, green eyes, and fair skin. What is her blood?
“I want a wise person to become Tuman after I die, to lead
whatever is left of us, to make the clan strong again. Lone Wolf is
sent by the gods to preserve us.”
Turning to Lone Wolf, the Tuman used what strength he had to
impress upon the reluctant young man.
“Swear, Lone Wolf, that you will not abandon us. Swear that
you will be Tuman after I die. Swear that you will bring glory
again to our Wolf tribe.”
The three young men saw that it was pointless to debate against
the deranged rant of a dying man; they therefore kept their heads
down and their mouths shut.
“Swear,” the Tuman shouted with his last breath.
“I swear,” Lone Wolf whispered.
The Tuman smiled a smile of satisfaction as he laid down his
head and gave up the ghost.
A few curious children who had been peeking into the tent
immediately scattered off to spread the news. Within seconds, a
chorus of howling began to rise from the camp, soon joined by the
wolfdogs. The beloved Tuman is dead. Long Live the Tuman! The
last remnants of the once proud Wolf tribe sang their laments and
their dirges, while a new struggle began for the succession inside
the Tuman’s tent.
“Lupalina, Baba was not in his right mind,” said White Wolf,
seeking support from his most important ally. “Surely you must
know that.”
Lupalina didn’t utter a word as she walked over to the
deathbed. She placed two pieces of jade on her master’s eyes and
one in his mouth. She then turned to speak sternly at White Wolf
and North Wolf.
“Your father, bless his soul, had a good reason for making
Lone Wolf Tuman.”
Turning to Lone Wolf, Lupalina raised her arm and pointed at
the young man. She demanded with a sharp voice, “Lone Wolf,
show us your mark.”
Lone Wolf hesitantly turned around and lifted his thick long
mane to reveal a red tattoo on his back below his neck. It had
hitherto been hidden from all except the Tuman and Lupalina. At
the same time, Lupalina lifted up the chief’s banner to display the
sign of the Tuman. They were a perfect match.
Chapter 14
Heart of the Dragon
he people promptly buried the great chief without pomp

T and circumstance, as befitting a defeated leader of a band
on the run. His sons strangled his favourite wolfdog
White Fang and buried it along with their father as his companion
in the afterlife. Lupalina convened the tribal meeting after the
burial, and in the name of her recently deceased master proclaimed
Lone Wolf Tuman. White Wolf and North Wolf grudgingly kept
their mouths shut. They knew they were no match for Lone Wolf
in a physical challenge even if they were healthy. Hence, Lone
Wolf received the old Tuman’s great spear and the Tuman banner
without bloodshed.
For this solemn occasion that would determine the future of the
tribe, Lone Wolf donned his eagle mantle. The new Tuman looked
majestic as he addressed his adopted tribe.
“I’m alive today because of the old Tuman,” Lone Wolf said.
“May his spirit protect us always. I promised him that I would lead
the tribe, but for now, I can’t accept the title of Tuman.”
White Wolf and North Wolf were surprised at what they heard,
and their eyes lit up with the hope that the Tuman position might
still be up for grabs.
“The title Tuman (头曼) means the head (头; tou) of ten-
thousand (万; wan; old dialect: man; 万 and 曼 were homophones
in ancient times). The scorpion sign of the Tuman is an ancient
symbol passed down to us with the title from more than a thousand
Heart of the Dragon 67
years ago. The Qin ( 秦 ; 221‒206 BCE) Empire in the south,

following the tradition of the previous Zhou (周; 1046‒256 BCE),
and Shang (商; circa 1600‒1046 BCE) dynasties, also has adopted
the scorpion to mean ten thousand, signifying a myriad host. It is
therefore a much revered symbol.
“As such, I won’t be Tuman or carry the Tuman banner until
our tribe has ten thousand bows again. In the meantime, I’ll be
Chief Lone Wolf, and I’ll lead the tribe with the help of my two
brothers, the Right Chief White Wolf and the Left Chief North
Wolf, as well as the elders who are generous with their advice.”
This prompted a wave of murmuring among the tribe members,
but most nodded their heads in approval.
“We have to make some immediate decisions,” Chief Lone
Wolf said. “Modred, the murderer of his father, wishes to
exterminate us.”
Everyone spat at the mention of the cursèd name.
“His soldiers are following our tracks through the mountains at
this very moment. We’ve slowed them down with hit-and-run
ambushes. Their scouts have learned to respect our arrows. But I
suggest that we keep moving through the woods rather than to
descend into the valleys and the plains. In the mountains, we can
hide better, and we can more readily ambush our pursuers.
“The trees are laden with fruits and nuts. We won’t starve here.
The woods are also teeming with deer, reindeer, hares, pheasants,
and wild birds; we can hunt them and trap them for food. There are
foxes, minks, and sables; we can warm ourselves with their pelts.
Our wolfdogs will be happy here. And if we don’t stray too far
from the streams, we’ll eat our fill of spawning sturgeon, northern
salmon, burbot, and carp. I’ll teach you how to catch them.
“There’s enough pasture for our horses and our herds. Where
the land is flat and suitable, we can grow millet, barley, and wheat.
Finally, we shall worship the golden Shanbe, the heavenly beast
with the single horn that has led us through the woods to safety.
Let us pray that it’ll guide us through the difficult times ahead.”
Lone Wolf had scouted out the area in anticipation of the
retreat. He learned that the Eastern Wolves had sojourned here in
the distant past, and tribal legend said that the golden unicorn
known as the Shanbe once roamed among the wild woods. Lone
Wolf understood how a bit of faith and hope would be good for the
tribe’s survival.
“The Huns won’t hound us forever,” Chief Lone Wolf
continued. “Modred will soon summon his soldiers back for other
wars. The Huns, once our Wolf brothers, became strong in the
seventy black peaks of the Great Green Mountain Range. Led by
the treacherous father-murderer Modred, they have won a great
victory over us. The Eastern Wolf tribes are no more.
“Modred has taken an uncountable number of slaves and
animals. His tribes are laden with mountains of plunder. The blood
of the slain flowed like a river and the earth turned red. Now that
the Huns have tasted of gore, gold, and glory, they’ll never satiate
their bloodlust. Their unquenchable thirst will consume them like a
raging scourge.
“The Huns under Modred will soon take their iron hoofs to the
south and the west. They’ll enjoy military success. But it’ll be the
beginning of their downfall. This is also the beginning of our rise
from the ashes. We must try to find as many survivors and
stragglers as possible, and we’ll join forces. Living in the
mountains and the woods means we won’t be fighting any
territorial wars. The people living in the plains call themselves the
Berserkers (貉貊: he-mo). They’re fierce fighters who wear the
skin of the bruins and charge as if they’re possessed by the animal
spirits of old. They won’t welcome us.
“In the mountains we’ll toughen ourselves and our children.
We’ll strengthen our sinews and sharpen our skills. We’ll stay out
of war and bloodshed. We’ll make alliance with our dispersed

brethren hiding in the mountains, both to the south and to the
north. We’ll even pay tribute to Modred so that we can live in
peace. We’ll keep our heads down and bide our time. We’ll use all
of our energy to grow, until we are strong and numerous enough to
ride out of the mountains without fear. Then I’ll take up the
Tuman’s banner and ride with you. All who agree say aye.”
Everyone punched the air with their fist and shouted their
approval. A few started the familiar wolf howl, the sound of which
might have prompted the people of the southern land to call the
northern Wolf tribes the Hu (胡; northern barbarian).
“We’ve had a tiring day,” Chief Lone Wolf said in closing.
“Let us sleep well tonight. I’ll take the first round of sentry duty.
We strike camp on first light to move onto high ground. This tribal
meeting is adjourned in the name of our old Tuman; may his spirit
protect us always. Everyone, have a good rest.”
The whole tribe rejoiced in the wisdom of the old Tuman in his
choice of Lone Wolf as successor. Everyone went to sleep with
empty stomachs but with hearts full of hope. They knew that
tomorrow would be another difficult day, and that their survival
would depend on wise decisions, hard work, tenacity, persistence,
and sacrifice. But they believed that as long as they wholeheartedly
followed Chief Lone Wolf’s leadership, the tribe would survive
and be strong again.
Lone Wolf found a perfect sentry spot on a grassy knoll that
overlooked the camp. He had sent a few responsible young men to
cover the periphery in other directions. Lone Wolf brought his
wolfdog Phantom to keep him company. As soon as he sat down,
he heard a rustling noise. Phantom didn’t make a fuss because both
he and Lone Wolf knew someone had been tailing them.
“Show your face, Wolf Star,” Lone Wolf said, “you really
should be resting rather than training for an ambush.”
“I want to congratulate you on becoming our chief,” Wolf Star

said, as she lay down beside Lone Wolf. “We all trust that you’ll
be a great leader.”
“That’s a heavy burden I don’t want,” Lone Wolf said, “but I
made a promise to the old Tuman. May he rest in peace.”
Lone Wolf was a young man in his prime and the greatest
warrior the Eastern Wolves had ever known. The battle and the
hasty retreat into the mountains turned everyone into feral beasts,
but Lone Wolf kept that superior air of the indomitable spirit in
him. His chiseled face made him look like a demigod, but a
vulnerable one with secrets locked behind his sad eyes. Lone Wolf
found the fragrance and the body heat of a beautiful young girl so
close to him to be quite unbearable. He stiffened his resolve and
kept his distance from Wolf Star.
“I’ve lost everyone,” Wolf Star said while pressing closer to
Lone Wolf, “but I’m glad to be alive. You saved my life.”
“Good thing you listened to me,” Lone Wolf said. “And by the
way, I’m sorry about your loss.”
“Everyone has suffered loss,” Wolf Star said, as she sat up and
playfully entwined her loosening braids with Lone Wolf’s mane.
“But while we live, let us live.”
Wolf Star had such a soft touch that for a moment Lone Wolf
thought that it was the caress of Zehpyrus, the angel of summer
breeze, who carries the sweet smell of wild flowers into young
lovers’ hearts. The intoxicating fragrance of Wolf Star that drifted
into Lone Wolf’s head reminded him of a sad happiness hidden in
a blurry memory from long ago and far away.
He asked out of the blues.
“Do you know why you’re called Wolf Star?”
Wolf Star shrugged.
“You’re called Wolf Star,” Lone Wolf said, “because you’re as
beautiful as the Wolf star Lupus in the sky. It’s hidden now
beneath the southern horizon. Before the snow falls, it’ll rise again,
and it’ll be brilliant. You’ll be blessed with the greatest fortunes on
earth; but you must be patient.”
“How do you know so much?” asked Wolf Star, who couldn’t
take her admiring eyes off Lone Wolf. “Do you have a star?”
“Indeed I do,” replied Lone Wolf pointing southwards at the
long constellation close to the horizon. “See that string of stars?
It’s the Dragon, and at the chest of the Dragon is a fiery red star.
See it? You can’t miss it. It’s the Heart of the Dragon, and it’s my
star.”
On this night, the flaming red Antares of the constellation
Scorpius, first known as the Great Fire or the Shang Star during the
Shang dynasty, later as the Heart star of the Dragon constellation,
was particularly bright and dominant in the sky. Antares means
peer of the war god Ares, and Ares is the Greek name for Mars.
“Your star has brought you good fortune,” Wolf Star said as
she leaned over and put her head on Lone Wolf’s shoulder. “I hope
it burns bright in the sky to keep you safe always.”
“Wolf Star, I’ll tell you a secret you must promise to keep,”
Lone Wolf said. He couldn’t fend off Wolf Star’s advances, so he
had to tell her the truth.
The last time Lone Wolf was so serious with Wolf Star, it was
a matter of life and death. Wolf Star’s heart was filled with dread
to guess what terrible secrets might be unleashed from Lone
Wolf’s head. She nodded to accept the darkness that threatened to
devour her whole, and she bit her lip to brace for the expected
onslaught of pain. Wolf Star had learned since young that life is
pain; anyone saying otherwise is selling little blue pills.
Lone Wolf looked intently at the beautiful innocent face of
Wolf Star in the moonlight. Her misty eyes were pleading for
mercy. Lone Wolf knew that the truth would pierce her heart and
shatter her dreams. He didn’t know what else he could do.
“Wolf Star, I already have a wife. We also have a baby
daughter before we were separated. The time will come when I’ll
have to leave the tribe and go look for my family. I hope you’d
understand.”
Teardrops like sparkling diamonds fell from Wolf Star’s eyes.
She bore her pain in silence as she held on to Lone Wolf.
Chapter 15
The One-eyed Apothecary
s Lone Wolf had predicted, Modred grew tired of losing
A soldiers chasing after the small groups of Eastern Wolf

tribesmen hiding in the woods. It helped when Lone Wolf
sent boxes of wild red ginseng to Modred to congratulate him on
his adopting the title of Khan (单于; chan-yu). This ginseng was a
very rare and precious plant that was said to enhance virility and
promote longevity. It happened to be found in the wild in China’s
northeast, exactly where Lone Wolf was hiding from the Huns.
Modred was highly pleased. He also had a good excuse to call off
the wild goose chase. The Eastern Wolf was no longer a threat.
Meanwhile, more and more remnants of the various survivors
came through the mountains and joined Lone Wolf, who provided
them with food, lodging, and safety. Other groups that escaped had
settled in the mountain range to the north and south of Lone Wolf,
forming kindred alliances and helping each other defend against
the Huns and the natives.
Lone Wolf reorganized the tribes under different banners,
allotted land, taught the people to supplement hunting with fishing
and farming, and built log cabins in well-defended settlements.
Lone Wolf turned out to be an expert in breeding animals as well.
He had a natural knack for growing things. Under his leadership,
the banners thrived and the settlements were soon gorged with
animals, especially sheep, goats, horses, and reindeer.
As a young chief, Lone Wolf received many offers from young

nubile women to be his helpmate. He needed a woman to look
after him and he also had a duty to make babies. To be strong
again, the tribe needed to make lots of babies and Chief Lone Wolf
must set a good example.
With all the eligible young women vying for his attention and
the elders piling on the pressure, Lone Wolf realized that he would
have no peace until this issue was settled. It got so bad that he
feared staying alone in his log cabin in the evening because all the
women would be lining up outside his door with baskets of food
and wine, hoping that he would ask them to stay.
It was the night of the new moon. The evening air was getting
chilly. Lone Wolf took a stroll with Phantom and came to his
favourite grassy knoll. He needed to get away from all the women
who would be knocking on his door. He found Wolf Star by
herself lying on his regular spot staring at the Milky Way. Her
wolfdog Chimera was keeping her company and also keeping her
warm. Lone Wolf lay down beside her. Wolf Star did not stir.
“Are you waiting for me to show up?” Lone Wolf asked. “You
know I want to avoid those women.”
“No, I’m waiting for my star to show up,” said Wolf Star, her
eyes transfixed at the starry sky. “You promised it’d bring me good
luck.”
“I’m sure it will. How long have you been here? I didn’t see
you at the mess hall. Have you eaten?”
“Not hungry.”
“You look like you’ve lost weight. All our animals are getting
fat, but you … are you eating well? Come to my cabin. I have lots
of food.”
“I’m fine. Tell me a story. How about tell me again that story
about a little prince and his rose, or the story about the mermaid
and the heartless prince?”
The One-eyed Apothecary 75
“I’ll tell you any story you like if you come to my place and eat
something warm. Even poor Chimera looks starved.”
“Not hungry,” Wolf Star said. “Are you hungry, Chimera?”
Her faithful dog whined.
“Hey, you’re beginning to worry me. I guess I should’ve taken
better care of you,” Lone Wolf took Wolf Star’s hand and gave her
a light tug. “Come.”
Wolf Star didn’t move nor did she say a word. She just lay
there with her eyes fixed to the sky. Finally, she failed to hold back
her tears, and the drops started spilling over from the corner of her
eyes. Wolf Star had lost everyone close to her and she was afraid
she would lose the only friend she had. Lone Wolf held her face to
his chest and let her open the floodgates.
Finally, Wolf Star’s emotions subsided, and Lone Wolf dried
her tears with his sleeves. Lone Wolf knew what was inside the
young girl’s heart. He decided to reveal some more of his secrets,
but only those parts that wouldn’t be too shocking.
“I know I’ve been a mystery to everyone,” Lone Wolf said,
“but I can remember more of my past now. It’s just that I can’t
reveal it to anyone. You’re the only person I can trust.”
“I have kept your secret,” Wolf Star said, “but my heart hurts
when I think about it.”
“I’m sorry to burden you with my secrets,” Lone Wolf said. “I
know this isn’t fair to you. I’ll keep it to myself if you prefer not to
know.”
“I’m fine now. Let me share your burden.”
“When the old Tuman found me, I was having a high fever that
damaged my memory. It’s slowly coming back. I remember now
that I’m separated from my wife and daughter because I’ve been
exiled. I’ve been banished for life. Even though I want to find my
family, I may never see them again.
“I can’t let others know because people have a very low

opinion of exiles. They’re usually traitors of their own clan or
they’ve committed evil crimes against their own kin. How can
another tribe accept such a person to live among them?”
“I can’t imagine that you’ve done anything so evil. Do you
remember why you’re exiled?”
“On that my memory is fuzzy. Maybe the crime is so heinous
my heart doesn’t want to remember.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I hope you’re right. Anyways, that was the past. For now, as
you say, while we live, let us live. Come to my place. I have
something important I want to discuss with you.”
“What is it? You look so serious. Tell me now.”
“Will you promise to eat something afterwards?”
“By promise do you mean cross my heart and hope to die?”
“Yes,” Lone Wolf laughed. He taught Wolf Star this silly oath.
“And do you remember what follows?”
“Stick a needle in my eye,” Wolf Star said. “It’s disgusting.”
“Okay, back to serious business,” Lone Wolf said. “I have a
proposition for you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I can no longer live here and lead the tribes
without a helpmate. The elders and all the young women are
pestering me to death. I can’t function as the chief when every kind
word I say to a young woman is suddenly an invitation for her to
spend the night with me. When a girl comes to me for help, I don’t
know if she really needs help or does she actually want me to
marry her. All the young men looking for helpmates are really
angry with me as well. What do you think I should do?”
“I don’t know. You could marry Lupalina.”
“Do not jest. I’m serious.”
“But it sounds like you’re bragging.”
“It’s just the preamble for my proposition,” Lone Wolf sucked

in a deep breath and said, “Wolf Star, will you be my helpmate?”
“You will not toy with my feelings and make fun of me.”
“I’m very serious, Wolf Star. I want you to be my helpmate.”
Wolf Star sat up and looked at Lone Wolf with her bright
innocent eyes.
“Promise me you’re not joking.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
This time, tears of joy flowed from Wolf Star’s eyes. She
would no longer be the lonely outcast. She would be the wife of
the chief and the mother of his children. Her world suddenly
brightened, and the icy Milky Way transformed into a colourful
rainbow. The dead grass around her came alive and changed the
barren ground into a meadow covered with colourful roses. The
stars descended from the sky to become glowing butterfly fairies
dancing among the blossoms. Two nightingales arrived from the
heavens to serenade the young lovers with the Flower Duet of
Delibes. What need did Wolf Star have of food when all she could
think of was covering Lone Wolf with countless kisses?
Hence Chief Lone Wolf solved everyone’s problems with a
single masterful stroke. It was a win-win-win-win solution for all
involved. Even the prophecy of the Wolf star Lupus came true.
The rise of the star did bring the girl Wolf Star great fortunes.
And the tribe continued to thrive. Before long, they had ten
thousand bows again. Lupalina convened another congregation in
which Chief Lone Wolf became Tuman. Lone Wolf didn’t want
the title because he knew it would hurt the feelings of his two
adoptive brothers. After all, what’s in a name? Lone Wolf knew
that one of these days, his brothers would act on their resentment.
Until then, life must go on.
In time, the tribes grew so strong and so numerous that Lone
Wolf decided to form a new super-tribe, which he named Shanbe
after the heavenly beast with the single horn. He adopted the
golden unicorn as the super-tribe’s totem. The mountain that had
protected them and nurtured them, he also named Shanbe, later
known as the Greater Khingan Range (大兴安岭; da-xing-an-ling).
The Berserkers decided to join the Shanbe and invited migrants
from the mountains to share the plains and the valleys. Three
hundred years later, when Shanbe tribesmen started showing up at
the doorsteps of the Eastern Han Empire, the Han Chinese gave the
tribe a Chinese name—Xianbei (鲜卑).
Wolf Star became a beloved Jen. She even started a new fad
among the women when she used rouge to paint a flower on her
forehead. Lone Wolf had given her this fashion idea. But her
marriage with Lone Wolf had a big problem. After a year together,
they were still without child. They tried to boost their virility by
consuming all kinds of folk remedy, including wild ginseng and
braised deer pizzle, but to no avail. Wolf Star was desperate. She
began asking shamans for help.
Wolf Star’s prayer was soon answered, but not in the way she
expected. One day, an itinerant doctor and his servant arrived at
the settlement. The doctor wore an eye patch over his left eye, and
walked with a staff that appeared to be made of petrified root. The
staff also had a large shining metallic knob.
When Lone Wolf got the news, he wanted to check out this
stranger. As he arrived at the market square, he bumped into the
visibly excited Wolf Star. She had learned from the usual gossipers
that the doctor had come from the south, and that he was in the
area searching for rare herbs. It was by chance that his path led him
to the settlement. The civilized people from the south were
rumoured to be knowledgeable about every subject under the sun.
Surely the doctor could help Wolf Star.
The doctor had set up a tent as his temporary clinic, and people
were lining up outside. Lone Wolf’s guards cleared the way for the
Tuman and his Jen. When Lone Wolf saw the doctor and his
servant, he froze and stood there speechless.
“What’s the matter?” Wolf Star asked. “Do you know them?”
“I’m not sure,” said Lone Wolf after collecting himself. “They
remind me of someone.”
The one-eyed doctor introduced himself.
“I’m an apothecary, herbalist, surgeon, and medical doctor
from the Qin Empire in the south. People simply call me Mr. Hua
(华; the word that means China). I’ve travelled to this area to look
for rare herbs. I’m surprised to find this hidden paradise here in the
middle of nowhere. It’s my professional duty to help the sick
wherever I go. I hope I haven’t created too much disturbance.”
“We’re very grateful,” Lone Wolf said. “If you’re not in a
hurry to leave, I’d like to invite you to stay with us for a while.”
“You’re very kind,” the apothecary said. “To tell the truth, I’m
here also because I want to stay away from the endless wars down
south. Ever since the Emperor Qin Shihuang (秦始皇; first brilliant
king of Qin) passed away, the empire has been at the brink of total
collapse. First there was turmoil in the royal court; then the
peasants and the aristocrats rose up in rebellion. After the Battle of
Julu (巨鹿; giant-deer), it seems that the empire is doomed. But
then the peasants and the aristocrats will fight among themselves
until one king is left to rule them all. For us common people, we
just want to live in peace.”
“That’s settled then,” Lone Wolf said. “You’ll be my guest
here. My officials will arrange lodging for you and your servant,
and the place can be your clinic as well. We don’t have a real
doctor here, so you’re welcomed to stay for as long as you like.
Tonight, we’ll have a feast in your honour. Also, my wife the Jen
here would like to consult you on a private matter.”
“Just by observing your faces,” the doctor said, “I know what it
is you want to ask. Your humours don’t mix. It’s a problem I can
easily fix with an herbal prescription. If you take it according to

my instructions, I promise you’ll have many children.”
“Oh, thank God you found us,” the beaming Wolf Star
exclaimed. “How can we repay you?”
“It’ll be good if you can show my servant Shazi (傻子; idiot)
where to find wild ginseng,” Mr. Hua said. “That’ll more than pay
for everything. And I’ll stay to make sure you have a strong and
healthy baby.”
Lone Wolf was speechless when he heard the name Shazi. The
doctor noticed. He smiled and explained.
“Shazi is a nickname. He’s a little slow, mind you, but he
follows orders very well. And he’s quite harmless. I wanted to get
a better servant, but he’s all I can afford. After the years he’s been
with me, I’ve grown accustomed to his silly face.”
“Have we met before?” Lone Wolf by this time couldn’t help
asking. He felt that he had known them once upon a dream.
“I don’t think that’s possible. Why do you ask?”
“My mistake,” Lone Wolf apologized. “I have a problem with
my brain having been scrambled by a high fever. I sometimes get
the past, the present, and the future all mixed up. And I go through
some days not sure whether I’m awake or dreaming.”
“I know what you mean,” the doctor said. “I’ve experienced
similar problems myself. I’ll give you a prescription for that.”
Time flies like an arrow. In due time, Wolf Star did conceive as
the doctor promised. She had a constant glow on her face, and she
proudly flaunted her ballooning belly. Ten moons later, the good
doctor with the help of Lupalina delivered a beautiful and healthy
baby girl. She had stunning blue eyes that seemed to brighten the
room. When Lone Wolf saw the baby, he felt that he had been
struck by lightning, like the first time he saw Wolf Star’s eyes. The
proud baba and mama decided that when the baby reached naming
age, she would receive the name Blitzen Wolf.
As time passed, with the help of the apothecary’s potion, Lone

Wolf’s muddled memory of the murky past began to subside into
the background. The tribesmen got used to having Mr. Hua taking
care of their universal healthcare. People were healthier and having
more babies. The Shanbe Mountain was paradise to the Shanbe
tribes. What could go wrong?
One day, Lone Wolf the Tuman came back from a short
mountain retreat to find the settlement in turmoil. Lupalina was
tending the baby with the wet nurse Silver Wolf. They both looked
worried. Wolf Star hadn’t returned home for several days. No one
knew where she went. Added to their worry was the simultaneous
disappearance of Mr. Hua and his servant. Perhaps the strangers
from the south had kidnapped Wolf Star. Horsemen with their
hunting wolfdogs had ridden out in all directions to search for
them but could find nothing. They didn’t even leave a whiff of
their scent in the air. Wolf Star, the one-eyed apothecary, and the
doctor’s idiot servant had simply vanished without a trace.
For a long time, Lone Wolf was beside himself with grief. It
was a strange feeling because Lone Wolf couldn’t remember Wolf
Star’s face. In his dreams, Wolf Star had dark hair and the red
flower design on her brow became a heart. He spent many
evenings at his favourite spot on the grassy knoll hoping that Wolf
Star would show up but was greeted only by the wind. Eventually,
Lone Wolf had to accept that his helpmate was gone. He would
have to forget about her and pay more attention to Blitzen Wolf,
who was beginning to walk and learning to talk. Lone Wolf gained
comfort when he spent time with his daughter. He couldn’t foresee
that he would lose Blitzen Wolf when another stranger, a young
man in strange clothing, walked into the settlement.
Chapter 16
The Watchers Cometh
he news of the accident that wiped out Victoria’s family

T became common knowledge in the neighbourhood by the
next day. The police was able to locate the licence plate,
which flew off in the explosion, but by the time the firefighters
arrived at the scene, the uncommonly hot flame had incinerated all
traces of human tissue. By all accounts and available evidence, the
whole family perished in the unfortunate accident, and the police
made a public statement to that effect.
Jackie and Bella were worried sick about Victoria being on her
own with secret killers trying to track her down. When the girls got
the message “IMOK, OMW2PVG, KIT” from Clotho, they
were ecstatic.
The next morning, on Christmas Eve, Bella went to Jackie’s
place after breakfast to decipher the message together. It was fairly
easy as the Weird Sisters had been doing this for some time.
IMOK was a standard phrase not meant to be obscure. OMW was
another standard code for On My Way; but PVG needed a little
work. Jackie had flown quite a bit and noticed that it looked like an
airport code. Googling airport code PVG gave the answer
Shanghai Pudong International Airport. They should have opened
an anonymous page and used an untraceable search engine such as
DuckDuckGo. This minor slip almost gave everything away.
KIT was a standard code meaning Keep in Touch. But what’s
the meaning of ?
The Watchers Cometh 83
“It looks like a gear,” Jackie said.

“It could be a wheel.”
“It is a wheel,” Jackie laughed. “The whole message is—I’m
OK; on my way to Shanghai. Wheel (will) keep in touch.”
They gave each other a high five. Jackie promptly sent back a
happy face emoticon and deleted the message.
“My mom told me,” Jackie said, “that a couple of detectives
came by the house last night to ask some questions. She didn’t
think it was anything out of the ordinary. But we should alert each
other if we see anything suspicious.”
When Bella got home, she saw a black BMW SUV parked on
the driveway. She decided to get in from the back unannounced
and unnoticed. As Bella sneaked past the living room, she saw two
men talking to her parents. They were dressed in long black
overcoats, black pants, black leather shoes, and black gloves. One
of them carried a black leather briefcase in his hand. They had
their back towards Bella so that she couldn’t see their face, but she
had a bad feeling about this. After they left, Bella came down from
her room to talk to her parents about the intruders.
“What was that about?” Bella asked.
“It’s great news,” Bella’s mom Lorelei said. “We’ve just won a
prize for the whole family to visit Disneyland, all expenses paid.”
“Really?” Bella cried. She couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re
kidding me.”
“We’ll have to leave right away,” Professor Stone said. “Pack
some clothes. We need to be out of here in half an hour.”
This situation seemed totally bizarre to Bella.
“Let me call Jackie to tell her about it.”
“No need to do that,” Professor Stone said. “Their whole
family is coming along. This is no joke. We’re all going to
Disneyland.”
Chapter 17
#1 Corn Gas
wo men, both dressed in a long black coat draped over

T their black suit with a black silk tie, black cotton trousers,
shiny black leather Oxford shoes, and black deerskin
cashmere lined gloves, stepped out of their black BMW SUV and
took off their impenetrably black sunglasses. They cast a stony
stare at the lonely #1 Corn… Gas service station. One of them held
a mysterious black briefcase in his hand. The other man, an
African American, stooped to pick up the broken GPS/Altimeter
watch. He held the gadget in front of his squinted eyes and
examined it in ominous silence. He turned to his partner who
responded with a sneer. Then they stepped inside the gas station.
Brent the prematurely bald and perpetually bored attendant was
engrossed in his comics as usual. The doorbell broke his
concentration. He sighed and put down the magazine, looked at the
clock, and tried to sound friendly to the undesirable customers just
before closing.
“Gentlemen,” Brent said, “we’re closing early today. It’s
Christmas Eve.”
“Do you know who we are?” Vincent asked.
“Hmm, let me guess,” Brent responded with a touch of his
customary sarcasm. “You’re the Men in Black, here to deal with
aliens on earth.”
Brent wasn’t amused with people asking the wrong questions
in the wrong place at the wrong time.
#1 Corn Gas 85
“Listen, fellas, it’s quittin’ time,” he said. “We’re closed,

capiche? My beautiful sexy wife is waiting at home with a bird in
the oven and a glass of mulled wine to warm the cockles of my
heart. So why don’t you gentlemen make like a tree, and take your
business to the next service station about sixty miles from here?
You’re welcome and happy holidays.”
Brent kept his uneventful days interesting by injecting irony
into his interpersonal intercourse, but he chose the wrong targets
today.
“Who says it’s quittin’ time?” Jules the African American
grunted through gritted teeth, “You ain’t goin’ nowhere until you
answer some questions. Do you know who we are and why we’re
here?”
Indeed, the two men in black attire were the shadowy and
exceedingly frustrated Watchers who had been searching for
Victoria for the past sixteen years. They weren’t in the mood for
humour. But Brent wouldn’t appreciate that.
“To tell the truth, I haven’t the foggiest,” he said with a bit of a
faux British accent, “and I don’t give a hoot. I think this whole
episode has something to do with one of my friend’s crazy
daydreams or I’m in the middle of a Hollywood movie.”
Brent glanced at the security camera as a signal to the strangers
not to try anything funny.
“Answer our questions,” said Vincent as he imposed himself in
front of Brent, “and you can go home to your sexy wifey. Did a
middle-aged man and a Chinese teenager pass through here
recently?”
“Why am I talking to you?” Brent said, remembering the
hundred-dollar bill he received for keeping mum. “You’re not
getting gas or buying anything. What’s in it for me?”
“Fine, I’ll have the Royale with Cheese,” Vincent said,
matching Brent’s sarcasm with one of his own, “and my brutha
here wants the Big Kahuna with everything.”

He then pulled a large pistol from his coat and almost stuck it
up the nose of the shocked attendant.
“Look, Rockefeller,” Vincent said. “This is what’s in it for you.
If I’m not happy with your answers, I’ll rip your face off with my
bare hands, then my friend here,” Vincent wiggling his gun against
Brent’s nose making his nose wiggle, “will put so many holes
through your cold dead body they’ll have to wipe your smugly face
off the floor with a mop.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? You should’ve said so right
away,” said Brent as his head almost exploded with a violent
sneeze. Jules said, “Bless you,” and Vincent said “Gesundheit.”
Brent purged his slim filled olfactory organ, said, “Thank you,”
and complied with his guests’ wishes.
“At #1 Corner Gas, customer is king. Ask and all your answers
will be questioned … I mean, all your questions will be answered.
If you’ll only let me get a word in, I’m willing to tell you; I’m
wanting to tell you; I’m waiting to tell you. I’ll tell you anything
and everything that your heart desires to know—my first kiss, my
secret chili cheese dog recipe, even where I hide my girlie mags.”
“Do you read the Bible, Brett?” asked Jules with a dark
menacing growl. He didn’t like where the interrogation was
heading.
“The name’s Brent,” said the bewuthered gas station attendant,
pointing to his nametag.
“No, not the Bible again,” Vincent protested vociferously as
Jules prepared to orate some apocryphal apocalyptic verse before
blowing someone’s head off. “You made up that whole
flapdoodle.”
“I most certainly did not,” Jules asseverated. “Ezekiel 25:17.
Look it up.”
#1 Corn Gas 87
“You wanna bet?” Vincent said with a smirk on his face. “If
I’m right about you makin’ that up, are you gonna give me that
foot massage?”
Jules turned to give Vincent the Doonesbury Doomsday stare
with his cold dead eyes for about five seconds and then blurted out,
“Figaro! Are you tryin’ to piss me off?”
Jules then pulled out a bombastic Smith & Wesson 500
Magnum from inside his overcoat, cocked the gnarly blunderbuss,
and pointed it squarely at Brent’s face.
“Talk!” he growled.
“W-What do you w-want to know?” Brent said, perspiration
readily oozing from his brow.
“Tell us everything,” Jules said.
“W-What d-do you mean everything?”
“EH-VRY-THING!” Jules roared at the top of his lungs, his
booming voice reverberating into the deep dark void of the cold
starry sky.
“W-When I was four years old,” Brent said, “I remember the
time my m-mother tried to toilet train me…”
“About the man and the Chinese teen,” Jules thundered, while
glaring at Brent with his enlarged eyes and contracted pupils.
“L-Last night, around closing,” Brent finally sang like a
canary, “a middle-aged man and a Chinese boy walked in out of
nowhere. I don’t know if the boy was Chinese or Korean or
Filipino. They got a drink and left.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Vincent said. “Now, do you
know who we are?”
“I see nothing; I hear nothing; I know nothing. I didn’t even get
up in the morning.”
Vincent and Jules looked at each other.
“Are we happy?” Jules asked Vincent.
“We’re happy,” Vincent replied.
Chapter 18
What’s in a Name?
hall I call you David,” Victoria asked, “or should I call
“S you Uncle David?”

“David is good.”
“I’m not sleepy at all,” Victoria said. “If you’re up for it, I’m
ready to learn everything about who I am and why there are thugs
coming after me. But first of all, who are you and how come you
have a Chinese name?”
“I have a Chinese name because I’m Chinese,” David said. “I
just don’t look Chinese to you because you’re ill-informed. It’s the
same reason why you look Chinese but have a Western name. How
about our ex-Governor General Adrienne Clarkson? She’s also
Chinese. You see, from the moment we’re born, we’ve been
consuming uncountable seemingly innocent little lies that conspire
to warp our sense of reality. My job is not only to protect you, but
also to wake you from your stupor, and train you for the job you’re
supposed to do. The first step is to understand that everything
you’ve known so far is based on lies.”
“I’ve heard that line before in a movie; I hope you’re not trying
to gaslight me. Why don’t you just lay out the simple truth?”
“Patience, my dear,” David said. “The truth is never simple.
The truth is in fact so shocking that you’ll refuse to believe it.”
“After the car accident,” Victoria said, “I think I’ve absorbed a
lot of shocks. Why don’t you try me?”
What’s in a Name? 89
“Indeed, you’ve been very brave. Brava!” David applauded.

“What I have here is a special devise that’ll speed up your
enlightenment, and it’ll be fun at the same time.”
From the storage bin below the seats, David took out a game
console and two sets of Virtual Reality headsets. There were a pair
of gloves and a pair of socks for each set. He opened up a box
packed with wireless electrode pads.
“These will allow me to take you on a Virtual Reality tour of
the truth,” David said. “While a picture tells a thousand words, a
VR experience will let you live a thousand lives. Prepare for an
unforgettable joyride.”
“You’re using something that’s not real to tell me about reality.
Should I be concerned?”
“You should definitely be concerned, but you should also learn
to have some trust. You need to develop the ability to distinguish
the lies from the truth. Consider the fact that I gave you to Michael
and Angela to bring up, they wrote a letter telling you to find me,
and you’ve seen the photos. I’ve had to risk my life shooting two
men, one of them armed. And many people have made sacrifices,
no less by your adoptive parents who died protecting you.
“We’re facing a very powerful enemy that’ll use every evil tool
at their disposal, including lies and illusions. In real life, fraud,
deceit, and malice are usually mingled with truth and sincerity.
Can you tell them apart? My grandfather taught me never to take a
knife to a gunfight. This VR Gamebox is my weapon. It’ll help
convince you that there’s another reality. I don’t deny it. I’m using
basically a lying devise to teach you about the truth. It’s a paradox
and an oxymoron. But you’ll decide what is real. Think of me as
your guide and mentor. I’m training you to fight the final battle.
We need you to win.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Victoria said. “I don’t think I’m
the girl you want. My parents didn’t tell me anything. They didn’t
prepare me for this. I’m not that smart, I’m not strong, I’m
definitely not brave, and I don’t want to fight anyone. I just want to
be left alone.”
“Put these on and you’ll get your answers,” David said. “You’ll
learn about yourself, and you’ll make your own judgments.”
David helped Victoria put on her game gloves and socks. He
then applied electrode pads to Victoria’s temples, her jugular, her
throat, her arms and her calves. Finally, Victoria complied with
David’s request and gamely put on the headset.
David put on his headset as well and summoned the console’s
Artificial Intelligence, also the beautiful Moira, to calibrate the
equipment and synchronize the interface. Then the story was
loaded and the game was afoot.
Victoria found herself in a dimly lit room with very old
furniture. A blond haired woman with pale complexion lay in bed
covered by a blood stained sheet. A newborn baby in swaddling
cloth slept peacefully beside her. A Chinese man hurriedly rushed
in and knelt by the bed. He held the woman’s hand and wept.
“Where are we?” Victoria asked David.
“We’re at my hometown of Huang’xian ( 黄县 ) or Yellow
County in Shandong ( 山东 ; mountain-east) province, now
reorganized as the city of Long’kou (龙口; Dragon Mouth). That
woman is my mother. She’s dying from giving birth to me.”
Victoria now understood why David looked Caucasian.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” she said. “Do you know where
she came from and how she ended up in China?”
“I grew up without a mother, so everything I know about her I
learned from my father. My mother was a Russian Jew. Her
parents lived in Harbin, a Chinese city in northeastern Manchuria
close to the Russian border. In the early years of the twentieth
century, a large Jewish community sprang up in Harbin, although
they’ve since migrated to other parts of the world.
What’s in a Name? 91
“During the Second World War, my Jewish grandparents were

travelling south, probably going to Shanghai to join up with
another group of the Jewish diaspora, when something bad
happened. My mother was a baby when she became an orphan near
Tang’shan ( 唐山 ; Tang Mountain, a hundred miles east of
Beijing). My mother survived because she was wrapped in a
blanket with the image of the sun and the Hebrew word for sun,
shamash (‫)שמש‬, embroidered on it. The sun saved her life because
the Japanese flag is the sun, and the Japanese soldiers respecting
the symbol took her to an orphanage. My father told me that my
mother later took the name Sammi Tang (唐善美; shan-mei, kind
and beautiful) from shamash and Tang’shan.
“After the establishment of the People’s Republic of China, the
government gave my mother to a foster home in Tang’shan, and
she became a top student. She went to one of the best universities
in China, Peking University, and there met my father.”
“Your mother was beautiful,” Victoria remarked. “Your father
must be heartbroken.”
“I don’t know my father well. My childhood memory of him is
not very pleasant. He was dour, melancholy, and brooding. He
seldom smiled. I guess life dealt him a bad hand. My father also
made my life hell by naming me Huang Di (黄弟), which sounds
like emperor, but it means little brother Huang. It was bad enough
that I was always an outsider, but my name made me the butt of
endless jokes. I think I was quite resentful of my father when I was
young. I had a much better relationship with my grandparents. My
father is an integral part of your story; we’ll get to him later.”
David made a signal with his fingers, and the scene froze.
“Now that we’ve gotten your first question out of the way,” he
said, “let’s take a trip to the Land of Lies.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s a place where everyone reminds you from morning till

night that they’re telling the truth. When you turn on the TV, the
reality shows are contrived, the news is fake, and every talking
head lies. They keep insisting that the press is free, whereas they
actually mean free to prevaricate, free to equivocate, and free to
obfuscate. Upton Sinclair said this about journalists: ‘It is difficult
to get a man to understand something when his salary depends
upon his not understanding it.’
“Editors, journalists, and reporters are salary earners. They
can’t afford the truth. We watch the news for free. We can’t afford
the truth. How about politicians? We cheer them when they smear.
We’re puffed up when they bloviate. We expect them to tell bald-
faced lies. We’ll think something is amiss if they don’t.
“We enjoy unfettered freedom of expression which includes
the freedom to lie, the freedom to slur, the freedom to insult, and
the freedom to use the basest profanities in the Holy of Holies.
Lies pervade the air we breathe and the water we drink. We
swallow the lies wholesale and non-stop. We digest lies and
regurgitate lies until we are become lies. This is the brave new
world we live in—the Land of Lies.”
Chapter 19
The Land of Lies
hile the Land of Lies is everywhere, it exists mostly in
W our head. We have the means to learn the truth but we’re
too lazy. We accept the lies because they fit our own
prejudice. We prefer being delusional because the lies allow us to
avoid facing the painful truth. Just imagine how many times we tell
ourselves and others that we’re free when none of us is ever free
from the need to consume food and therefore at times the
undignified necessity to acquire it by any means. We like to say
that there are no free lunches. But if that’s the truth, then no baby
will survive infancy. Human survival is based on sharing, not on
greed and selfishness. We’re trapped in a cesspool of lies because
we have passed the infernal gates ignoring these words: lasciate
ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate—abandon every hope, all those who
enter. We are irretrievably mired in the Big Lie because as the
great Yogi Berra said, “we made too many wrong mistakes.”
“Most of us exist in a matrix of lies,” David said, “where we
breathe bullshit, eat bullshit, and regurgitate bullshit from the day
we’re born until the day we die. We can’t comprehend flowers
because bullshit is all we know.”
“If everything is a lie, then how do I know you’re not lying?”
“It’s not so easy,” David said. “You’ll have to first learn to stop
lying to yourself.”
“I don’t know how to lie to others, much less to myself.”
“Alright, then tell me someone you absolutely trust will never

lie to you and I’ll demonstrate that you’ve been delusional.”
“I guess I trust my parents will never lie to me.”
“Your parents never told you anything remotely close to the
truth. In fact, they’d been shielding you from the truth.”
“You’re right,” Victoria felt downtrodden to realize that the
people she trusted most had been lying to her all her life. She
would never blindly trust anyone again.
“Name a book which you believe preaches the truth.”
“The Bible; everyone swears by it.”
“Yes, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, except that
God didn’t tell the truth when He—or She—told Adam that ‘… of
the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of
it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.’ The
serpent on the other hand told Adam and Eve ‘… ye shall not
surely die … your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods,
knowing good and evil.’ Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit,
they didn’t die on the day they ate the fruit, and their eyes were
opened. Would you agree that God lied?”
“I think God means spiritual death. God doesn’t lie.”
“Stop lying to yourself,” David said. “If God uses ambiguous
words to hide the truth, then He or She is equivocating or
dissimulating. That’s lying. Everyone lies, even when the
intentions may not be evil, or when there’s actually no intention to
lie. What if you believe that a lie is the truth and start spreading it
to people who trust you? Parents and teachers do that all the times.
In order to winnow out the lies and discover the truth, you must
always be critical in your thinking. Don’t take my word for it.”
Victoria nodded in quiet acquiescence.
“Let’s do something fun,” David suggested. “Let’s do history
so we can go places and see real people in action.”
“Sure, I like history. It’s my favourite subject at school.”
The Land of Lies 95
“Alright, if you have to pick the best president of the United

States in the last century, who would it be?”
“How about Obama? He’s the first African American to
become the president, and he won the Nobel Peace Prize.”
“Obama’s not bad, except that the Nobel, which I call the Piss
Prize, is no indication of the worthiness of the recipients. More
often than not, the board that doles out the prize is a panel of
pedantic, pontificating, pretentious pile of steaming cow pie. After
Obama got the pre-emptive Nobel, he warred on. He ordered drone
assassinations, destroyed Libya, expanded military presence in
Africa, declared national emergency against Venezuela’s socialist
government, and kept people locked up indefinitely in
Guantanamo. Obama made peace with the warmongers.
“He also attacked whistleblowers with great ferocity.
Whistleblowers challenge the Big Lie by telling the truth.
Unfortunately, their society condemns them as traitors, and their
few supporters are reduced to begging the criminals for clemency.
The lesson we learn is that, no one wants to take the red pill.
Obama may have done some good as well, but I doubt that he’ll be
ranked as one of the best. Next.”
“How about George W. Bush or Bill Clinton? Some people say
that Bush removed tyranny from Iraq, and Clinton brought peace
to the Balkans.”
“Well, Bush started the Global War on Terror, and America is
still fighting it. Where’s this enemy known as Terror? How does
one defeat Terror with bombs? America has been fighting a
phantom. It’s an excuse for endless war. Bush also destroyed Iraq
based on a lie. It created more deaths, more suffering, more
violence, and more extremism. For America, it’s just an honest
mistake, no one needs to be accountable, Iraq and its oil get
themselves a new master, and the perpetrators continue to enjoy
prestige, wealth, and impunity.
“Bill Clinton brought peace by raining humanitarian bombs on

Serbia and Kosovo. He humiliated Russia and expanded NATO.
Furthermore, by bombing the Chinese Embassy in that operation,
and intimidating the Chinese at their own front yard with carrier
groups, Clinton basically urged China to build up its military. All
these oxymoronic lies of humanitarian war and accidental pinpoint
bombing half way across the globe are only believed by the
stupefied masses that swallow the bullshit. Hubristic actions bring
unintended consequences. It’s called blowback. Next.”
“What about Ronald Reagan? His Reaganomics was quite
popular, and he won the Cold War against the Soviet Union.”
“For sure, many Americans loved the avuncular Reagan, but
his much touted Reaganomics weren’t that successful. His policies
accelerated the dismantling of the unions, the weakening of social
safety nets, and the erosion of the middle class in America. That
was the great gutting after the great purge of the Taft-Hartley Act.
Who would think of the great idea to place the wealth of the nation
with no need for accountability in the ‘responsible’ hands of the
One-percent Military Industrial Complex, and then let a fraction of
that trickle down to the stupefied masses that are dying of thirst?—
The economists of the Big Lie, of course.
“As for the Cold War, I don’t know if Reagan won it or if the
Soviet Union decided to end it. Peace was no doubt a good thing,
but the emergence of an overweening triumphalist America as a
unipolar global empire is definitely bad, not just for the world, but
for America as well. Come to think of it, maybe the end of the
Cold War was a devious ploy to let America harm itself. Next.”
“I’m not that familiar with the US presidents of the remote
past,” Victoria said. “I know that Franklin Roosevelt fought the
Second World War. Truman dropped the atomic bomb and started
the Cold War. And Eisenhower led America through a period of
peace and prosperity. One of them should be the best president.”
The Land of Lies 97
“Close enough,” David said. “But if we have to choose one, I

would say FDR. He’s the only American president who has been
elected four times to the presidency. He helped America get out of
the Great Depression with the New Deal, and he led America in
the fight against the Axis Powers during the Second World War.
Have you studied him in history?”
“Not a whole lot. We learn mostly Canadian history at school.”
“Let’s check him out on the day after Pearl Harbour,” David
said, “when he is about to deliver the famous Infamy Speech to a
Joint Session of the US Congress.”
David made a finger signal with his arm outstretched. As if by
magic, they were transported to the Chamber of the House of
Representatives. A uniformed soldier was helping Franklin
Roosevelt struggle from his chair to the podium.
“Today is December 8, 1941,” David whispered. “Japan
bombed the US naval base at Pearl Harbor the day before.”
“Does FDR have health problems?” Victoria asked. “Why does
he need help getting to the podium?”
“It’s a condition that FDR has made a point not to publicize,”
David replied. “He was paralyzed from the waist down eleven
years before he became president in 1932. But in public life,
people never see him in a wheelchair. He gets around wearing leg
braces, holding on to a walking cane, and getting help from a
strong assistant, usually one of his sons.
“FDR comes from a wealthy family, mostly through his
mother’s inheritance. He never has to work. Instead, he refuses to
give up his political life, and he becomes one of America’s greatest
presidents. It may surprise some people that FDR has deep
connections with China, which would shape his decisions, and
therefore America’s history. Let’s find out after the speech.”
Chapter 20
Wealth of a Nation
ictoria and David were on the deck of a nineteenth
V century schooner in the middle of the ocean. The sun was

rising from the horizon. It would soon become
unbearably hot. This was Victoria’s first experience of the ocean.
She could taste the saltiness in the air.
Several Chinese junks were anchored nearby. One had just
sailed up along portside and a weather beaten middle-aged Chinese
man had come on board. The man had a dark and leathery face.
The top and front part of his head was shaved, and the rest of his
hair was braided in a pigtail that hung down his back. Victoria
couldn’t believe that only a few generations ago, Chinese people
looked so different from anything she could imagine. A tall fresh-
faced well-tanned broad-shouldered westerner welcomed the
Chinese man aboard. Deckhands started offloading their goods.
“This is summer of 1833,” David said. “We’re on a cargo ship
just off the coast of south China. Part of the dynastic wealth that’ll
help FDR on the road to greatness in America comes from this
spot. That young American handling the transaction is only
twenty-four years old. He’s going to make a huge fortune here.”
“Who’s he?” Victoria asked. “Is he a pioneer of something?”
“He’s Warren Delano, Jr., the maternal grandfather of Franklin
Delano Roosevelt. He’s a new hand recently hired by the Boston
trading house Russell & Company. He’s learning the ropes at the
front lines. In ten years, the company will become the largest
Wealth of a Nation 99
American trading house in China, with Warren Delano at its helm.

Of course, Warren doesn’t get filthy rich just by trading tea and
silk. He goes into a lucrative business that makes an obscene
amount of money—smuggling opium into China.”
“Are you serious?” Victoria’s mouth was agape and her eyes
were wide with astonishment.
“Yup, we’re in the good old days of gunboat capitalism. These
Chinese junks are floating warehouses. American and British ships
drop off the opium here and then go on to do the legal trading. The
smugglers then use fast row boats to elude the coast guards under
cover of darkness. Aside from turning the Chinese into sick men of
Asia, this drug trade also depletes China’s silver currency, raising
interest rates, and condemning many into becoming debt slaves.”
David went on to explain that most of the American opium
traders were from Boston. They included the Perkins, the Forbes,
and the Russell families, just to name a few. They would use their
profits from China to build American railways, invest in American
industry, and fund institutes of higher learning in America.
Princeton, Harvard, and Yale all got their share of the sanguine
silver. Some of these traders would become prominent
philanthropists, but few people know that the dynastic wealth of
these families came from a pretty little flower.
“Before we lay all the blame on Americans, what’s with the
incompetence of the Chinese government of the times?”
“This is the first international trade war between the West and
China,” David explained. “In the opium trade, America was just a
junior partner of the Brits. When Westerners first traded with
China, they bought lots of tea, silk, and porcelain, but they didn’t
have anything that China needed, except for one item, and that was
silver. China wanted to have a silver economy but it didn’t have
enough silver mines. Then the Spanish empire discovered one of
the world’s richest silver mines at Potosí in the Spanish colony of
Bolivia in South America. Western capitalism immediately swung

into action and kicked into overdrive. Native slave labour dug up
the Bolivian silver which ended up in China as Spanish pesos.
Spanish traders got all the Chinese goods they wanted. It was like
printing money.
“The Brits meanwhile saw their trade deficit with China piling
up. Then they discovered opium, which was however banned in
China. When the Chinese government enforced their rule of law,
the Brits went to war in the name of free and fair trade. Not only
that, the Brits and Americans surreptitiously and furtively pilfered
proprietary Chinese tea seeds and tea expertise, almost destroying
the Chinese tea industry.”
“That doesn’t seem right,” Victoria remarked, guessing her
way through David’s arcane vocabulary.
“Right never helps the victims,” David said. “You do not own
anything that you cannot defend. That was how Chinese wealth
went by gun-point to the West. The Chinese civilization is the
oldest continuous civilization in the world and the people have
long memories. They remember all of their history. So the next
time you hear Western politicians or Western media vilify China,
what do you think is the truth?”
“Mostly rhetoric?”
“Mostly flapdoodle, codswallop, and tommyrot,” David said.
“The politicians and the media are just doing their job. I think
we’ve had enough of them. To understand the incompetence of the
Chinese Qing dynasty, we’ll have to check out the Opium War.”
“Is that violent?”
“No worse than the usual Hollywood blood and guts. I know
you don’t like it, but I do have to train you to deal with
confrontations. You may want to avoid violence but sometimes
violence comes knocking. My grandfather taught me never to take
a knife to a gunfight. This is a course you can’t afford to skip.”
Chapter 21
Fall of an Empire
ictoria and David found themselves at the countryside
V east of Beijing (北京; north capital). The whole area was

covered with woods and shrubs. The date was September
21 in the year 1860. It was the crack of dawn. The autumn morning
was crisp and the sky was clear. Death hung heavily in the air. The
final battle for the defence of Beijing would be fought today. The
Chinese army of the Qing dynasty (清; means clear) received
reports that the enemy had started marching north. They were
about an hour away. The Qing army had set up their defences with
their back against the Beijing-Tianjin ( 天津 ; port of Beijing)
section of the Grand Canal. They were blocking the way to two
bridges, one of stone and the other of wood. There would be no
retreat. A cornered beast is a dangerous beast.
A massive array of armoured Mongolian cavalry was moving
into position at the centre of the Qing line. The left and right wings
of the army were foot soldiers of equal strength. The famous
Mongolian general Sengge Rinchen (僧格林沁; seng-ge-lin-qin)
was well prepared. The infantry had thrown up defence works at
the front, and the artillery was deployed at strong positions with
effective coverage of the battlefield.
The stone bridge is known as the Eight Mile Bridge (八里桥;
ba-li-qiao). It’s about two and a half miles from here to the
outlying district of Tong’zhou (通州; meaning through-district),
the last line of defence of the eastern approach to the capital of the
Qing Empire, Beijing. Eight Chinese miles is equal to four

kilometres, which is about 2.4 miles. This was where the enemy
must cross the canal to reach the capital, about nine miles to the
west of the crossing. The Qing army must stop the enemy here.
The English horse regiments in their distinctive redcoats soon
arrived at the scene with a number of six pounders. They were
closely followed by the French horsemen in their smart blue
jackets. The troops immediately occupied a small village in the
neighbourhood to be used as their base. Then the main Anglo-
French army and the artillery caught up. Without stopping to take a
break, they marched straight to the front.
There were about eight to ten thousand Anglo-French soldiers
facing about thirty thousand Chinese defenders in grey battle garb.
The armoured Mongolian cavalry at the centre was ten thousand
strong, while the Anglo-French had about one thousand horsemen
posted at their left flank, with the elite King’s Royal Dragoons out
in front. The Qing army had a great numerical advantage, and they
were dug in. They would be immovable if they were well-armed
and led by competent leaders.
Unfortunately, the Chinese foot soldiers were hurriedly enlisted,
barely trained, and poorly armed. Their cannons and what few
muskets they possessed were ineffective. The majority of them still
used spears and swords. Sengge Rinchen would have to depend on
his elite Mongolian cavalry to deliver the knockout punch.
“The Anglo-French army is so small,” Victoria exclaimed.
“And the Chinese is defending their capital. I don’t understand
why the Qing emperor can’t stop the invaders?”
“Actually, the Qing dynasty is quite weak at this time,” David
said. “They’re facing huge challenges from their own Chinese
subjects. A serious peasant rebellion has been gnawing at the heart
of the empire for almost a decade, and the Qing emperor can’t do a
damn thing about it.
Fall of an Empire 103
“The rebellion is known as the Heavenly Kingdom of Great

Peace, led by a failed scholar of Hakka (客家; ke-jia, literally
guest-families, migrants from the north) origin from the Guangxi
province in southwest China. The leader calls himself the brother
of Jesus, and the group controls much of the wealthy provinces of
East China, including important cities such as Nanjing (南京; same
as Nanking, the south capital). Their armed forces have threatened
Shanghai and Beijing. The Western powers see this as a great
opportunity to extract their pound of flesh from the Qing emperor.”
“Still, China is huge and has a gazillion people,” Victoria said.
“If the people want to defend their country, no way ten thousand
foreign soldiers can conquer it.”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head. I guess you don’t know that
the Qing emperor is not Chinese, strictly speaking. His family
name is Aisin Gioro. That sounds as Chinese as Solana. He may
look Chinese to you, but he’s actually Manchu. His ancestors were
Jurchens ( 女真 : nü-zhen) from southern Siberia. They had
previously ruled northern China as the Jin dynasty (金; means gold;
1115‒1234 CE). The Chinese considered them barbarians. But
when the Manchu replaced the Ming dynasty with their Qing
dynasty, their rulers were more Chinese than most Chinese.”
“Now you’re really messing with my concept of China.”
“China is not what you think. The Qing Manchu would end up
ruling China for two hundred and sixty-eight years, abdicating in
1912. That’s nine generations of China under foreign rule. The
pigtail we saw on the Chinese man aboard Warren Delano’s ship
was actually Manchurian hairstyle, imposed on pain of death on
the Han population in China. His vest known as Magua (马褂;
horse jacket) and the traditional long dress worn by Chinese
women known as Qipao ( 旗袍 ; banner-robes) are also
Manchurian. To the Manchu, China is their home, and their culture
is now a part of the Chinese culture. The Manchu changed China
but China also changed the Manchu. They became Chinese.

“As for the local population not coming to the aid of their
rulers, that’s also not strange. The peasants were illiterate and had
no say in Qing policies. They paid their taxes to the landed gentry
and tax collectors. They really didn’t care who sat on the throne. If
the rulers make life hell, the peasants would simply rebel. China
has a long history of peasant rebellions starting from the fall of Qin.
After Qin, all dynasties except Song have fallen because they were
weakened or overthrown by peasant rebellions. Emperors ignore
the plight of the Chinese peasants at their own risk.”
David pointed at the village behind the Anglo-French line.
“Here is something you won’t learn reading history books in
your little house in Dundas,” he said, “If you look carefully, you
can see the villagers setting up a market to sell supplies to the
Anglo-French army. The foreigners even have Chinese guides,
baggage handlers, camp servants, coolies, and ditch diggers, some
of whom have followed the army’s advance from south China.
These collaborators have very little concept about saving China or
building a future for their children. The Qing rulers have only
themselves to blame for losing the support of their subjects.”
With a round of cannonade from both sides, making a lot of
clamour and smoke, the battle began. Victoria at first shrank from
the explosions, but she soon recovered. She was no longer the
same timid teenager who had spent her entire life watching grass
grow in the small town of Dundas. She could hardly believe her
own transformation in the last thirty hours or so. From living a
quiet life in small town Ontario, Victoria was now watching a
battle in progress near Beijing, and she was fearlessly walking
towards the battlefield for a better view of the action. She kept
telling herself, “Calm down, girl. All of this is only in your head.”
General Sengge Rinchen knew that the future of the Qing
dynasty rested on his Mongolian horsemen. The heavy cavalry of
Fall of an Empire 105
Genghis Khan’s lineage would trample the Anglo-French army

with their iron hoofs. Unfortunately for Sengge Rinchen, his
horsemen were facing soldiers who had won the Napoleonic War,
defeated the Tsar in the Crimean War, and had recently quelled the
rebellions in the Indian War of Independence. The English soldiers
knew how their impregnable squares repulsed Marshal Ney’s
famous cavalry charge at Waterloo. The disastrous Charge of the
Light Brigade at the Battle of Balaclava in the Crimean War was
still fresh in their memory. It would be the Mongolian cavalry’s
turn to make that same fatal mistake.
Relying on his numerical superiority, Sengge Rinchen sent
wave after wave of his elite horsemen in a direct frontal attack on
the Anglo-French centre. These brave men didn’t ask the questions
why, but rode straight into withering fire. The next waves followed
that same foolish act, fulfilling their duty to do and die. That was
how Sengge Rinchen destroyed the flower of his army. Rank after
rank of the courageous horsemen was indiscriminately mown
down. With the Mongolian cavalry decimated, the Anglo-French
horses launched the coup de main and charged the Qing centre,
routing the reserves. The gaping hole at the Qing centre left their
two wings hopelessly isolated and exposed. The valiant defenders
vainly defended their untenable positions against superior Western
firepower. Despite their stubborn defence, the two wings inevitably
collapsed, and Beijing had no army to defend it.
While the battle was not a major action because of the small
numbers involved, the complete capitulation of the Qing emperor
to this miniscule Anglo-French army started the unstoppable fall of
the Qing Empire. It was plain for all to see that the emperor had no
clothes. From here on, the collapse of the Manchurian Qing
dynasty would only be a matter of time.
After the battle, the Anglo-French army looted and burned
down the Old Summer Palace. The emperor didn’t own whatever
he couldn’t defend. No one cared about property rights and rule of

law then. A century and a half later, many Chinese national
treasures still languish in foreign cells.
David took Victoria to the Summer Palace to witness the
charred remains of a past grandeur. The Anglo-French soldiers
were helping themselves to whatever they could get their hands on.
What they couldn’t take they either burned or destroyed. One of
the most valuable royal libraries was in fact turned to ashes.
“To this day,” David told the distraught girl who was disgusted
by the wanton destruction and the blatant banditry, “the ruins are
left standing as a reminder of what happens to a country when it
cannot defend itself. After the war, Chinese intellectuals saw the
need for change if the Chinese civilization was to survive the
onslaught of the West. Come to think of it, opium caused the
Chinese dragon to wake from its stupor.”
Moira dressed as an officer of the King’s Dragoon and astride
her charger emerged from the lingering smoke.
“We’re five minutes away from the next service station,” she
said. “Let’s take a break.”
Looting of the Old Summer Palace (1860)

Chapter 22
The Warrior Queen
he year was 1220 BCE. It was late in the day. The heavy
T skirmish yielded the desired result for Queen Zia. The
northern barbarians known as the Gotts (鬼方: gui-fang,
land of spirits) were finally driven off the hillock. The quick march
of the Shang queen’s army surprised the Gotts. The heavily
armoured Shang hoplites had the reputation of moving only
slightly faster than molasses. The Shang people built caravansaries
on their roads at about five miles or eight kilometres apart,
representing a day’s journey; that distance was known as a She (舍;
means lodging , but originally could be the shape of the passport).
The Gotts normally moved at least three times faster, or more if
they needed to. But on this occasion, they were slowed down by
the large number of men in their horde and by their tremendous
plunder. What the Gotts didn’t know was that the Shang king
Wotan (武丁; wu-ding, means Martial IV) with the bulk of the
Shang army was more than fifteen days’ march away. Wotan’s
wife Queen Zia (妇好; fu-hao), following the advice of her trusted
counsel and field marshal Lady Diane, had decided to give chase
with her smaller but more mobile personal army.
Although the hillock was just a grassy knoll in the middle of an
otherwise flat landscape, it commanded the view of the whole area
all the way to the muddy river about three miles to the north. It was
also perfect for stationing reserve troops hidden from view of the
enemy, so that they could maneuver without being seen.
The northern marauders were now facing an unenviable

dilemma. They needed to return to their home base in the north,
but trying to cross the river with all their plunder while Queen
Zia’s army was hot at their heels invited disaster. They could give
up the loot and disperse, but they had come a long way and no one
wanted to go home empty-handed.
The river curved to the south towards Queen Zia’s right wing,
forming a natural defence for the horde’s left flank. The only
escape route for the Gotts was to the northwest, where the river
turned northwards. But a village stronghold and thick woods stood
in their way. In any case, marching across the front with their left
flank exposed to attack by Queen Zia’s army was too risky. It
seemed the Gotts had no choice but to stand and fight with the
river behind them. They preferred to fight anyways. Death would
be better than running home like dogs with nothing to show for
after raiding deep inside Shang territory.
The Gotts with their legendary whirlwind cavalry charges
were accustomed to running rough shod over Shang villagers. Now
that Queen Zia’s army had arrived, they must contend with well-
trained, highly disciplined, and heavily armoured hoplites
advancing orderly in impenetrable phalanx formations, wielding
bronze halberds (戈: ge; actually dagger-axe; OB: _) designed to
stab and hook in front, or crack skulls from the top. Each phalanx
would be led by a war-hardened aristocratic commander in a four-
horse chariot. The Gotts must also brave the shower of arrows
released by the queen’s archers, who used powerful composite
bows that could shoot arrows through armour at two hundred
yards. The Gotts would be severely tested.
Queen Zia and Lady Diane arrived at the top of the grassy
knoll, each in a royal four-horse chariot. The queen’s horses were
brilliant white steeds. Lady Diane’s horses were glistening black.
A phalanx unit of the Royal Guards numbered at seventy-two
The Warrior Queen 109
hoplites accompanied the two female commanders. Of the Royal

Guards, twenty-four female personal guards made up the first ring
of defence; the rest were special eunuch soldiers who had their left
eye pierced and trained to be superb marksmen with their
composite bows.
The Shang word for slave (臧: zang; OB: ) is a halberd
stabbing an eye, while another word for household-slave (童: tong;
OB: ) is a man having an eye blinded by a ceremonial dagger.
Both words have adopted new meanings. Zang (臧) in modern
Chinese means good, and Tong (童) means child.
In addition to the charioteer, each royal chariot had an
attendant known as the lictor. This officer was a trusted servant
and a personal guard who carried the queen’s fasces (钺: yue)—a
bronze poleaxe weighing a total of about twenty-four pounds or
eleven kilograms, with the Lord of Animals design and the queen’s
royal name cast on its surface. The Chinese character for minor
king, duke, or lord (王: wang; OB: ) came from the shape of the
Shang fasces.
The fasces was the symbol of Queen Zia’s aristocratic and

military authority. She had the sole discretion to take the life of a
person under her rule. On the other hand, the queen was
responsible for her subjects’ well-being. With great power comes
great responsibility.
Lady Diane was Queen Zia’s most trusted officer and closest
companion. Her chariot was a gift from the queen. She also had a
lictor holding the queen’s minor fasces. It was a slightly smaller
poleaxe. Lady Diane had her own fasces, which she used while
reigning in her own fief.
Queen Zia was an extraordinary Shang royalty. Not only was
she the highest ranking wife of the Shang king Wotan, who
maintained a harem of over sixty wives and concubines, most of
whom the result of alliances, she was also the High Priestess, as
well as the king’s best general. In an earlier war against a western
barbarian tribe, King Wotan entrusted her with the largest army
ever assembled by the Shang Kingdom. Queen Zia had an
advantage over other wives; she was King Wotan’s blood kin.
Queen Zia was a fighting general. She wore a full-body armour
made of bronze plates and donned a shining bronze helmet with
two tall pheasant feathers waving high in the air. Lady Diane was
similarly attired with eagle feathers for her helm. The queen wore a
white cape while her second-in-command wore black. Both
commanders were beautiful and nubile girls in their early to mid-
twenties. In another day and age, they could be modelling haute
couture on runways in Paris, Milan, and Shanghai. As a mature
woman of the times, Queen Zia had already given birth to two
princes and two princesses, guaranteeing her status as the Queen
Dowager of the future king.
“What do you think?” Queen Zia asked Lady Diane. “Will
tomorrow be a good day for battle?”
“It’ll be the best day ever,” Lady Diane replied. “The gods
have spoken. They’re on our side.”
The Shang, especially the aristocracy, were zealously religious.
Every decision they made must be approved by the gods. They
would prepare the abdominal plate of the tortoise shell, known as
the plastron, or animal bones, usually the shoulder blade of bulls,
known as the scapula, and used that for divining their oracles. An
official diviner would mark the date, add his―or her―name, carve
the question asked by the lord, and place a red hot metallic rod at
specific notches prepared for the purpose. The heat would create a
crack on the surface, making the sound of a pop. The direction of
the crack would provide the answer from the gods indicating yes or
no. The word for this form of divination is bu (卜), which is an
onomatopoeia, and the writing is a pictogram of the crack.
The picture words used for these oracles are the oldest written
language of China known as Oracle Bone script. They are the
progenitors of modern Chinese writing. Many modern words can
be traced back to their original Oracle Bone form.
“Will trickery in divination always bring us victory?” Queen
Zia said with an uneasy smile. “If we wait for the King, we can be
more assured of the outcome.”
Queen Zia and Lady Diane were official diviners and knew the
tricks of the trade. Clever diviners could easily predetermine
results by a bit of simple preparation.
“Have faith, Your Majesty,” Lady Diane said. “Even if you
have doubts about the gods, you can have faith in me and your
army. ‘Tis not every day we can trap the elusive Gotts. Let us
prepare for battle. We’ll have a great victory tomorrow.”
“As you wish,” the queen acceded. She was kind and generous
to a fault, especially towards Lady Diane. “Come to my tent and
have a drink with me. I brought your favourite wines and ales. I
also want to give you a good luck charm for the battle. You’ll sleep
with me tonight. Tomorrow we fight.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lady Diane said. “But I’d like to stay
here a bit longer to study the enemy. I’ll join you after sundown.”
“Don’t be long,” the queen said, as she and her retinue retraced
their route down the hillock.
The sun was sinking rapidly in the west. The Shang soldiers
were saying their evening prayers and making their offerings to the
setting sun. The Shang believed in many gods, and the sun was one
of the most important. The name of Shang dynasty’s founding king
is Tang (汤; OB: ), a symbol of the sun’s benevolent rays, which
like the grace of God, is freely bestowed on the human race.
Ancient myth tells of a time when the heavens had ten suns and
that on each day, only one of them came out in turn. One day, all
ten suns came out, stopped at the middle of the sky and refused to
leave, scorching the earth and torturing humanity, until the hero
Houyi (后羿), husband of the moon goddess Chang’e (嫦娥; also
name of China’s moon exploration program), shot down nine suns
with his divine bow and arrows. Since then, the one remaining sun
has been rising and setting every day in an orderly fashion.
A scholar of antiquities by the name of Immanuel Velikovsky,
famous for writing the book Worlds in Collision, thought that the
myth was created as a result of a Near Earth Object (NEO) such as
a comet passing near the earth, causing the sun to not set for ten
days. It’s a mystery how the ancients knew ten days had elapsed if
the sun didn’t set.
Lady Diane studied the enemy camps and noticed how they
were preparing for battle. Lady Diane saw that the Gotts were well
armed, well organized, and well prepared. But it made no
difference because she would defeat them just the same. Lady
Diane was a master in the art of war, the kind that was unknown to
the Gotts.
Lady Diane directed her gaze towards the south to enjoy the
picturesque view of the great kingdom of Shang. Dozens of
villages in the distance were sending columns of smoke up into the
heavens. The Gotts spared these lucky villages because they had to
run from the queen’s rapidly advancing army. This was mid-
autumn; the leaves were changing colour and harvest was under
way. The smoke came from the burning of the stalks of harvested
crops. It would repel locusts and birds. The ashes would also
become fertilizer for next year’s crops. The Shang word for
autumn (OB: ) shows a locust and a fire, later adding a sheath of
wheat. The modern word (秋: qiu) mercifully omits the locust,
leaving just wheat and fire.
It was Lady Diane who convinced Queen Zia to volunteer for
the expedition against the Sand People (土方; tu-fang; land of
earth) in the north. At that time, Queen Zia was only one of King
Wotan’s sixty wives and Lady Diane was her handmaid. Both girls
would likely waste their lives away in the harem.
The opportunity came when King Wotan had a tough time
dealing with the Sand People. Queen Zia made several entreaties to
the king begging for an army to lead against their northern
neighbour. Wotan finally relented and gave her fifteen hundred of
his best men with fifty chariots. Queen Zia’s father, the powerful
Duke Yarjee (亚其: ya-qi), cousin of King Wotan, loaned her a
thousand soldiers and twenty chariots from his fief. King Wotan
however didn’t have high expectations.
When the news reached the capital that Queen Zia’s army
crushed the Sand People, razed their capital, captured the ruling
clan, enslaved a thousand young men in the flower of their youth,
and was returning home laden with loot, King Wotan travelled a
distance of ten Shes (80 km) to welcome his triumphant wife back
home. After that, Queen Zia would be the top girl in the dragon’s
lair and gave the king two princes and two princesses.
According to the traditions of war, King Wotan granted Queen
Zia large tracts of fertile land and industrious subjects where she
reigned as an independent vassal. Queen Zia however didn’t live in
her own fief but sent personal servants to administer it.
The stars began to dominate the evening sky as the last light of
the setting sun faded away. Lady Diane gazed longingly at the
constellation of the giant hunter Orion. She felt a wave of sadness

as buried memories emerged from the dark corners of her heart.
She remembered waking up in the wilderness wrapped in a black
shroud. She felt as if all her bones had become disjointed. A
scorching fire raged underneath her skin. She didn’t know where
she was or how she got there. She only knew that she had a hole in
her heart. She had lost the love of her life, as well as the fruit of
their love. She had been banished to this strange and violent land,
and she might never see her loved ones again. For a long time, she
cried herself to sleep every night.
It was Lady Diane’s good fortune that Queen Zia found her in
the middle of a royal hunt, healed her, and kept her as a handmaid.
The queen later explained to Lady Diane why she would save the
worthless life of a dying slave. She saw a red tattoo on the girl’s
forehead. The Shang word for concubine (妾: qie), which meant
female slave in Shang times was the drawing of a tattoo knife on a
woman’s head (OB: ). Red tattoos however had a special
meaning for the Shang. They were reserved for the dead. The
Shang honoured their deceased with the title Wen (文 ) which
meant tattoo. Lady Diane must have overcome death in an ordeal.
A person who defied death was meant to achieve great deeds.
Since Queen Zia’s status rose to stratospheric heights, Lady
Diane’s fortunes improved as well. When the queen received her
own fief, Lady Diane also received her share of choice fields. The
queen named her Diane, which came from the aristocratic title
Dian (甸) in relation to the choice fields she was getting near the
capital. In addition, the original character for Dian was sometimes
indistinguishable from the word for field (田: tian), which also
meant hunt. Indeed, Queen Zia found the mysterious girl in the
middle of a royal hunt.
In those days, it was unusual for an unmarried woman to
receive a title and to own property, but Lady Diane was an unusual
person. Furthermore, Queen Zia had granted Lady Diane a four-

horse royal chariot and a lictor with the queen’s fasces to boot. It
would be wise for men who had some wrongheaded belief in
women’s place in society to keep their opinions to themselves and
their mouths shut, lest they ventured to feel the wrath of the
queen’s fasces on their necks.
Queen Zia wanted to arrange an appropriate husband for Lady
Diane, but she couldn’t persuade her pretty handmaid to marry.
Lady Diane already had a family, but one she might never see
again. When she was alone, she would secretly mourn her loss.
Lady Diane was no nameless servant; neither would she ever be a
concubine to some Shang lord. She was a blue blood of ancient
lineage trained since birth to be a superior warrior. Lady Diane
took off her helmet to reveal the red tattoo at the centre of her
forehead. It was the same heart tattoo on Victoria’s back. It’s in
fact the Shang word for heart.
Chapter 23
The Unicorn Rings
ady Diane sent messengers to summon the commanders of
L the various units to Queen Zia’s tent for the war meeting.
The queen’s army was the most sophisticated military
organization of the times, and Lady Diane developed it. Shang
hoplite order, which was the best in town, was organized in units
of ten, a hundred, five hundred, and a thousand. Depending on the
number of chariots available, twenty-five to fifty men fought as a
unit under a phalanx commander in a chariot drawn by four horses.
Lady Diane took the structure and trained specialized fighters for
specific tasks. For the coming battle, Lady Diane sensed a tough
tussle. The Gotts had their backs to the river. A cornered beast is a
dangerous beast.
Contrary to the common belief that the Gotts were wild
savages, they actually had an organized army with a brigade of
elite armoured cavalry. They used the grain wagons to form a
mobile fortress where they corralled all the plundered animals and
where they kept in bondage all of their kidnapped boys and girls
from the Shang villages. The Gotts would be a formidable foe.
Nevertheless, Lady Diane planned to spring a few surprises on
the Gotts. Fighting would start early in the morning with the sun
shining into the Gotts’ eyes. An early battle would surprise the
Gotts. The Shang armies always made an elaborate offering to the
sun at first light. Then they ate a full breakfast. After the battle
lines were drawn up, the military diviner would ask the oracles
The Unicorn Rings 117
whether to fight or not to fight. It was surprising that the Shang

armies ever fought any battles at all.
Lady Diane wasn’t going to follow unreasonable rules. She
sent heralds around the camp announcing the favourable oracle for
early battle and the promise of rewards. Aside from the regular
bounty, for each enemy’s left ear collected, the reward would be
fifty cowry shells. It’s two hundred cowry shells for a breathing
prisoner. For killing an enemy chieftain in single combat, the
Shang commander would get the spolia opima—rich spoils—
which included all the arms and properties of the slain enemy
chieftain. In addition, the queen would reward the commander with
fifty bronze cowry shells and five bronze spades known as qian (钱
; money). The commander would be a hero and he’d be rich.
Disobedience and cowardice during battle would be rewarded with
instant death.
It may be necessary to clarify that the soldiers weren’t getting
trumpery as their rewards. The cowry shell was a currency of the
Shang. They’re beautiful shells from the oceanic coasts far to the
south and southeast. The Chinese word for Cowry-shell (贝: bei;
OB: ) is an important radical, or root, which forms a part of
many modern Chinese words that relate to money and trade. The
Shang people were famous traders—some say they’re the first
merchant-traders in China. Their Promethean ancestors probably
brought the cowry shells along their migratory route from the south
Pacific and the Indian Ocean. When the cowry shells became
worn, debased, and inadequate as society developed, bronze
money appeared.
In the early days of Bronze Age in China, any useful and
valuable bronze object that required a lot of expertise and efforts to
produce became money. The production of bronze implements
would not be possible without a big investment of surplus food.
The producers of the surplus food are peasants. Therefore without
the production and investments from peasants, there would be no

money, and without money, large scale trade would be difficult if
not impossible. Without the initial investments of the peasants,
there would be no nation builders, no inventors, no scientists, no
artists, no major projects, and no advanced civilization.
Unfortunately, the peasants needed soldiers to defend their
fields, their water, and their produce. They soon lost everything to
the cleverest killers, who made themselves kings. The religionists
vied for power. They made a monopoly of the intellect they had
gained while consuming the fruits of the peasants’ labours. The
original investments of the peasants were erased from the narrative
by the first law of economics, “you do not own anything that you
cannot defend, and you can’t trade what you do not own.” Peasants
have been oppressed ever since by the big lie that capital built
civilization, conveniently forgetting that the capital was looted
from the peasants in the first place.
Cowry money Spade Money
The bronze spade qian (钱) was valuable and became currency.
At first, actual bronze spades represented a large sum of money.
Later, people minted tiny bronze spades for daily trading between
individuals. There were also bronze knives, hoes, chimes, and bells
serving the same purpose. Eventually, the bronze spade called qian
(钱) became the Chinese word to mean money. When a Chinese
asks if you have any money, he’s actually asking if you have any
The Unicorn Rings 119
spades. And if a Chinese lends money, he’s going to call a spade a

spade and he’ll want to be paid back in spades.
After the war meeting, Lady Diane stayed at the queen’s tent
for the sleepover. Queen Zia laid out a pair of beautiful jade
archer-rings (韘; pronounced she) in front of Lady Diane. The
design of a mythical beast was carved on each ring. It represented
a Shang unicorn known as the Zhi (廌). These rings of power were
no strangers to Lady Diane.
A one-eyed caravan trader with a staff made of fossilized root
and capped with a golden knob had given these rings to the queen.
It was said that he had travelled from beyond the Celestial
Mountain in the northwest. The trader had made a supplication to
King Wotan for leave to trade in the capital. Bribing the powerful
queen was a clever way to go about it. The trader eventually settled
in the capital Yin (殷; thriving), and later became an important
official of the Shang court. He was known as the One-eyed Servant
Huang Yin (黄尹). Here, yin (尹) is an official title, sort of like
minister. The Oracle Bone word for yin (尹) is the drawing of a
hand holding a staff ( ). The name Huang Yin means aristocratic
jade minister with a staff.
Queen Zia granted Lady Diane the first pick. Lady Diane chose
the ring with the words Return-Not ( ), Queen Zia kept the
ring with the words Go-Come ( ). At the time, no one
understood the hidden meaning of these words.
“Use it for the battle tomorrow,” Queen Zia said, “and may
every arrow you shoot find its target.”
Shang halberd (ge; dagger-axe 戈)

Chapter 24
Oblique Order
efore the battle between Queen Zia’s Shang army and
B the barbarian Gotts begins, it may be useful for

battlefield observers to learn about the symbols on the
banners of the Shang army. Consider this the lull before the storm.
The most numerous flag in the Shang army was of course the
Shang flag. The Oracle Bone symbol for Shang is ( ), with quite
a few variations. It evolved over time into the modern form (商).
As a pictogram, the symbol resembles a structure for making
offerings or sacrifices to the gods. The top part is a dagger (辛: xin;
later means bitter; OB: ) used for ritual slaughter. The lower part
is the altar with storage space underneath, sometimes with a
receptacle for catching the blood of the sacrificial victims. A
variation has stars to indicate that the word is the name of the
Shang Star ( ), the national star of the Shang, also known as Big
Fire, and later the Heart star of the Dragon constellation. In the
West, it is known as Antares of Scorpius.
Queen Zia’s (妇好; fu-hao) banner shows ( ), the symbol of
a female (女: nü; OB: ) with a male child (子: zi; OB: ). This
word translates to the modern Chinese word that means good (好:
hao, such as ni-hao, which is literally “You good?” or “How are
you?”). Her blood clan is however not Hao (好: good), but Zi (子:
son). It was customary in ancient times to add the female radical to
a clan name to indicate that the name belonged to a female or a
matriarchal clan. Zi (子; son) happens to be the clan name of the
Oblique Order 121
Shang’s royal house. That’s how we know Queen Zia was King
Wotan’s blood kin. Queen Zia’s title Fu (妇; ), which is the
drawing of a broom, means married woman in modern Chinese,
but for Fu Hao, it denoted the wife of the king and therefore meant
queen. Fu Hao is therefore Queen Hao, more accurately Queen Zi,
known to us as Queen Zia.
Lady Diane’s banner shows the symbol for field (田: tian; OB:
). In Bronze script, the same symbol (BR: ) or one showing
a man tending to a field represents the title of a lord known as Dian
(甸; BR: ). The word for field (田: tian) in ancient times also
meant hunt. Lady Diane didn’t add the female radical to her
symbol because she was not a wife, and she wasn’t going to start a
matriarchal clan. Like the Greek goddess Diana, she would remain
a huntress that shunned man.
Finally, the Gotts was a barbaric tribe living to the north of the
Shang. Contrary to the rumours of the times, the Gotts were highly
civilized and were in constant contact with people from the south.
They also acquired the expertise to produce weapons, tools, and
vessels of bronze. The Gotts would prove to be a much more
formidable foe than most of Shang’s neighbouring tribes.
The Gotts worshipped the spirit of the wolves. When they went
to war, their Chief’s personal guards carried a large spear adorned
with wolf tails and wolf fangs. Their crack troops wore a fierce
wolf mask to terrify their enemies. The Shang called them by a
name that means ghost, god, or spirit (鬼; gui). The Oracle Bone
script ( ) shows a man wearing a mask. The Shang was generally
terrified of the Gotts.
We now return to the battlefield. As Lady Diane had ordered,
the Shang lines were already drawn up even before the first rays of
the sun peeked over the tree-tops from the southeast, with the
centre division under Queen Zia accompanied by Lady Diane, and
the wings led by the queen’s left and right generals. The autumn
morning was crisp, the sky was clear, and there was no biting wind
from the north. Death hung heavily in the air. The queen and her
trusted field marshal looked at each other and nodded to indicate
that the game was afoot. The queen gave the order for the battle
drums to roll, signifying that it was time to rumble, and soon the
whole line marched steadily forward.
This was not a large-scale engagement by any stretch of the
imagination, but it involved all of the queen’s own citizen soldiers
of about three thousand and another one thousand armed men
belonging to Lady Diane. There was a support staff of about one
thousand consisting mainly of servants, slaves, and camp guards
who could fight if they had to.
The Shang army had fifty chariots, each supported by fifty
hoplites. Each chariot had a charioteer, a phalanx commander who
was an expert archer fighting on the left side of the chariot, and a
man-at-arms wielding a Shang halberd on the right. The chariot
was used as a mobile command vehicle for the phalanx, not as a
shock weapon. The phalanxes and the chariots were required to
advance orderly to the beat of the war drums.
The Gotts were surprised that the Shang lines were already
marching towards them without the usual rites and ceremonies.
There was no time for eating breakfast. They had to quickly arm
themselves and form a defence line against these godless vixens.
Lady Diane gave the order for the first action of the day. A
small detachment of light mounted skirmishers at the left wing
galloped off to probe the enemy’s right flank. The Shang had never
used this kind of tactics before. The skirmishers were ordered to
fire their arrows as they came within range, and then reel to their
left to safety and regroup to make another charge. Since the Gotts
were using bows of shorter range and arrows of less accuracy than
the Shang, the Shang skirmishers could practically harass the
enemy all the livelong day without suffering any losses. Lady
Oblique Order 123
Diane had invented a saddle by which the mounted archers could

ride securely fasten to their horses, so that they could turn around
and fire arrows behind them without the fear of falling.
The horde’s Chief, who commanded a squadron of heavy
cavalry at the centre, led his armoured horsemen to the right wing
to counter the Shang threats. He believed that most of the heavy
fighting would be at his right wing because his left wing was flush
against the riverbank, which was swampy and not easy for either
the Shang chariots or their hoplite phalanxes to move over. The
right wing was also the only possible escape route for the Gotts.
Noticing enemy movements, Lady Diane gave the order for a
difficult maneuver. The left wing of the Shang army would stop
marching, forming the phalanxes into interlocking defensive
squares in anticipation of the Gotts’ cavalry charges. Queen Zia’s
central division would march and pivot anticlockwise so that its
right flank was closer to the enemy lines. The Shang right wing
then made a direct charge at the left wing of the Gotts.
Lady Diane developed the oblique order to attack the enemy’s
weaker wing while defending against the enemy’s stronger wing. It
was an asymmetric strategy far in advance of its time and was lost
for six hundred years until the famous Battle of Cheng’pu (城濮).
The oblique order was then used by the Theban general
Epaminodas at the Battle of Leutra against the Spartans, followed
by the audacious Alexander at the decisive Battle of Arbela (or
Gaugamela), defeating the much larger army of Darius III of the
Persian Empire. Almost three thousand years after Lady Diane,
Prussian king Frederick the Great would use this battle order to
great effect at the battles of Rossbach and Leuthen, defeating
enemy armies twice as large. Victoria also used it regularly when
she employed Sicilian Defence while playing chess.
As the struggle at the Shang right wing was hanging in the
balance, Lady Diane ordered the reserve troops to deploy to her
right. A squadron of heavy cavalry using long lances rode out from
behind the hill and prepared to charge the left flank of the Gotts.
Lady Diane developed the Lancers Reserve with the idea that
the best way to crush the Gotts’ cavalry was to use cavalry. The
armoured Shang horsemen secured to their saddled and
caparisoned chargers, wielded a long lance to cut and stab the
Gotts’ horsemen at a distance. Lady Diane developed the lance to
gain an advantage over the more commonly used spear. The saddle
also enabled the Lancers to unseat their opponents in a melee. This
deployment was a big surprise for the Gotts, as everyone knew that
the Shang army favoured the plodding tactics of the orderly
phalanx. They weren’t even supposed to have a formal cavalry.
As the Lancers rode out from behind the grassy knoll, the
heavy cavalry of the Gotts launched a counter-attack at their right
wing. They dispersed the Shang skirmishers and charged the Shang
left wing. The masked Gotts looked like fierce demons riding on
monstrous beasts bringing pandemonium to the shaking Shang
hoplites. The queen in the center brought forward her regiment of
archers and from their slanted position, fired volleys at the
charging Gotts, forming a lethal crossfire with the archers of the
Shang left wing. It effectively blunted the Gotts’ attack.
By the time the Gotts’ heavy cavalry arrived at the Shang left
wing, the momentum of the charge had dissipated and the attack
became disorganized. The Gotts weren’t able to break any of the
well-defended squares. When the Gotts chief saw that his heavy
cavalry was incapable of causing damage to the Shang left wing,
and that the Shang skirmishers were regrouping for a counter-
attack from the flank, he ordered a retreat.
Meanwhile, the Lancers reserve was ready to ride into action
on the Shang right wing. Lady Diane felt that the battle was
arriving at a critical juncture that required her direct intervention.
She turned to the queen to make a special request.
Oblique Order 125
“Your Majesty, I ask for leave to take the field,” Lady Diane
said. “It’s important that I personally lead the Lancers to close the
ring on the Gotts. All we need to do at the centre is to keep the
phalanxes fixed in their positions and order our archers to fire
volleys into the enemy. Our engineers had buried empty wine
amphorae in ditches last night to cripple the Gotts’ charge. I have
just sent orders for the left wing to assume attack formation and to
envelop the Gotts. Not a single barbarian will escape today.”
“Can’t you send someone in your stead?” Queen Zia said, “I
don’t want you to take unnecessary risks.”
“I need to go now,” Lady Diane said, “or the Gotts will escape.
Wish us luck. I’ll return anon with good news.”
Lady Diane kissed the archer-ring on her thumb as a display of
her friendship with the queen, and then leapt off her chariot
without waiting for the queen’s reaction. During battle, every
second counts, and time waits for no one except for the dead. Lady
Diane mounted her steed of ebony black, grabbed a long lance
from her squire, and commanded the captain of the Royal Guards
to keep the queen safe until her return.
Lady Diane’s steed reared in the air, and with a mighty kick
shot like a missile into the distance. All eyes friend and foe alike
marvelled at the sight of this shimmering black beast, thundering
across the battlefield like a monster from Tartarus, while Lady
Diane’s black cape billowed like the waves of the roiling Yellow
River that cascaded down the cataracts of Dragon’s Gate. Lady
Diane traded for this black steed from a caravan that came from the
land beyond the setting sun. His name was Swarh Li (什伐骊: shi-
fa-li), combining the Old Persian Swarh—which means ride—with
the Chinese Li (骊; black horse) to mean Beautiful Black Steed.
Chapter 25
Twilight of the Gotts
he armies had been on the field for several hours. The

T shadow was becoming short, and the Gotts were getting
hungry from having missed breakfast. As the Gotts chief
was riding back to his lines thinking about what to do next, he
received the news that his left wing was on the verge of collapse.
He immediately dispatched troops from the centre to stabilize the
buckling wing.
The Chief realized that he might have met his match. He was
left with only one thing to do, and that was to charge the queen’s
elite troops at the centre. The Gotts chief rallied his horde for one
desperate charge—the Hail Mary play.
“Wolf brothers,” roared the Chief as he rode up and the down
the front of his rallied troops. “The Shang cowards are giving us
their women so we can have beautiful wives. The brave horses at
the front get the girls; the slow horses at the back get the neutered
goats.”
The horde howled with laughter.
“What are we waiting for?” the Chief exhorted his troops,
“Let’s go get ‘em.”
Without waiting for the Chief, the horde rushed forth like an
unstoppable whirlwind towards the queen, galloping with the
heroic cadence of the Ride of the Valkyries, and howling like the
spirits of the wolves from the mountain range of the seventy black
peaks, better known as the Great Green Mountain Range.
Twilight of the Gotts 127
At this very moment, the Shang’s right wing with the help of
the Lancers broke through the Gotts’ left wing. The battle had gone
according to Lady Diane’s plan so far. She was however justifiably
concerned as she saw an ominous cloud of dust rising behind the
horde’s daring charge at the queen. There was not a moment to
waste. She would rally the Lancers for a flank charge at the Gotts
and deliver the coup de main.
As for the Gotts, their fastest horses didn’t get the pretty
maidens. Their iron hoofs crushed the buried amphorae and fell
into the ditches prepared by Lady Diane’s engineers. Then a
torrent of arrows rained on the hapless Gotts that came near the
queen’s phalanxes, sending the eager horsemen on a fast track to
Valhalla with the Valkyries as their new brides.
Before the Gotts could regroup, the Lancers led by Lady Diane
arrived and smashed into their left flank. The carnage was horrific.
The Gotts’ desperate charge failed. They were trapped in a pocket
with retreat the only route. Accompanied by just a hundred of his
best fighters, the Gotts chief fought his way back to the wagon
fortress, hoping to rally the troops and to find an escape route.
The Gotts chief fell into despair when he found that the Shang
had already taken the wagon fortress. Lady Diane had sent out her
Special Operations platoons in the dark of the night to make a wide
westward flanking march through the woods to the marshes behind
the Gotts’ line, and there waited in hiding until the moment was
ripe for them to take the wagon fortress by surprise.
Leading a unit of the Lancers, Lady Diane and her personal
guards cut a swathe through the Gotts and arrived at the Queen’s
front.
“Your Majesty, I bear great tidings,” she said. “We’ve won a
glorious victory today. We’ve surrounded the Gotts on all sides.
Please order your chariot phalanxes to march forward without
leaving any gaps. The ditches in front have been prepared with
marching lanes. I will now capture their Chief and bring him
before Your Majesty.”
“After the battle,” the queen said, “I’ll deal with you for
leaving my side without my approval.”
Queen Zia sounded stern, but she secretly stole a subtle smile.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Lady Diane said. She knew that
this complete victory over the Gotts would absolve her of any
mischief. The battle was practically over, but Lady Diane wanted
to make the victory more meaningful than just another day of
wanton slaughter. Lady Diane was born to be a warrior, but she
had always yearned for peace.
“I have a request,” she said. “The Gotts are a valiant and clever
people. They’re more civilized than the fable-mongers have
painted them. Rather than slaughtering them wholesale, I believe it
may be to our advantage to have them as subjects or even allies.”
“They’ve caused much death and suffering on our side,” Queen
Zia said. “Do you think the King will not want to extract some
satisfaction of vengeance from this victory?”
“As Your Majesty already knows,” Lady Diane said, “there is

no profit in revenge. We should consider actions that will bring
long term benefits to us. The universe is most benevolent when it
is in balance. We’ve achieved such a lopsided victory today that
we must ourselves restore the equipoise. It’s when we’ve acquired
great power that we should show great mercy. For the sake of the
kingdom, I beseech that the Gotts be spared provided they become
sworn allies of Shang. If they agree, then the kingdom will have a
faithful friend to help keep the peace for our borders. Don’t we
want our children to grow up in peace?”
“What’s our excuse for this radical peacemaking?” Queen Zia
asked. “How should I explain this to the king?”
“What we’re doing is based on the teachings of our ancestors,”
Lady Diane said. “In the spring, we’re forbidden to hunt and
slaughter the pregnant and the young. We’re forbidden to cut
saplings and to conduct aggressive warfare. We’re told that by
wantonly wielding our power, we’ll destroy ourselves. We’re just
following the ways of our great fathers.”
“Do your best then,” said Queen Zia, who had never won an
argument against Lady Diane, “but be careful.”
The Chief of the Gotts by this time had only a handful of men
left. He had tried but failed to break out of the ring of Shang
hoplites. He contemplated falling on his own sword, but his
faithful steed walked into a trap and the Shang soldiers promptly
nabbed the Chief alive, along with about two thousand Gotts who
survived the slaughter.
Lady Diane arrived at the prisoner’s camp with her mounted
guards. She rode up to the prisoners to have a good look at their
condition. They were a sorry sight to behold. Almost everyone had
wounds. Yet they stood proud in front of the woman who had
thrashed them on the battlefield.
“I’m Lady Diane,” the female fighter shouted, “chief counselor

and field marshal for Queen Zia, and Dian of the Shang king
Wotan. I wish to parley with your Chief.”
Not a single prisoner moved or uttered a word. A few Gotts in
the front spat in contempt. One of the Gotts with half of his face
covered in blood started laughing, spitting out more blood with
each guffaw. Another one with an arrow through his shoulder and
a big gash on his face followed suit. A third with his cracked skull
in a bloody bandage was literally in stitches. Soon the whole
pathetic group was laughing uncontrollably, half of them holding
their stomachs and the other half with tears rolling down their face.
It was impossible for the Shang to understand the humour of the
Gotts, but they were men who would laugh in the face of death.
Lady Diane made a gesture with her hand towards the pile of
firewood that was collected for the camp’s frigid night. It instantly
burst into flames. The Gotts were no less superstitious than the
Shang. This woman in front of them must be a powerful witch.
That was enough to calm the men down.
“Do you know,” Lady Diane shouted, “Queen Zia had fought
ten great battles against neighbouring tribes and won every one of
them? Have you not heard about our famous battle with the Sand
People, how we levelled their walled city and captured the flower
of their youths? Do you know what happened to the captives? Half
of them, the proudest and the best fighters, became slaves; many of
them became eunuchs. The other half we sacrificed to the gods.”
A murmur spread across the prisoners like a ripple in a pond,
especially at the word eunuch.
“I don’t want such a bloodbath,” Lady Diane said, “I want to
make an offer to your Chief. If the Gotts make an oath of
friendship with the Shang, we’ll set you free to return home to
your wives and children, with your horses, with wine and gifts
from King Wotan and Queen Zia. The other choice is the fate of
the Sand People. So where is your Chief?”
The Gotts chief slowly sauntered up to Lady Diane’s black
steed, and caressed the top of the animal’s nose. Swarh Li snorted.
“We’re the unconquered Gotts,” the Chief declared. “We lost
the battle today to the connivance of a whore—a witch who
practices the black arts and sleeps with the farting devil. We’d
rather die than to submit ourselves to you. If the Shang wants the
Gotts to be friends, let your bravest fight me in single combat to
the death. If I lose, the Gotts will be your subjects. If I prevail, then
we go home with our plunder.”
“Good, I challenge you,” Lady Diane said. “Guard, give the
Chief a horse and a weapon of his choice.”
“I will not fight a twattling termagant,” the Chief cursed with
contempt as he spat on the ground.
“You cannot choose,” Lady Diane said. She rode over and
poked the Chief with the butt of her lance. “I’ve made the
challenge, unless you’re afraid of losing to a wench.”
“In that case,” the Chief cried, “harlot, prepare to die.”
The Chief grabbed a spear from a guard and leapt on a horse
that was brought over for him, and the game was afoot.
The warrior chief was however no match for Lady Diane, who
was an expert fencer with the lance. The war steed Swarh Li
danced circles around the Chief, keeping Lady Diane tantalizingly
out of reach of the barbarian warrior’s lethal thrusts. After toying
around with her opponent, Lady Diane disengaged from the tussle
and galloped off. The Chief thought that he had the upper hand and
that his feminine opponent couldn’t handle the physical exertion.
He took chase and went for the kill.
As the Chief caught up to Lady Diane, the female warrior
suddenly twisted around to make a backward thrust with her lance.
The Chief hurriedly parried. Lady Diane deftly avoided the Chief’s
spear with a circular counter-parry, went under his arm, and

whacked his side with her lance, carefully turning the blade so as
not to cut the man. It happened so quickly and with so much force
that the Chief was knocked clean off his horse. At that very
moment, Queen Zia arrived on her chariot surrounded by her
Royal Guards and her pack of wolfdogs.
“Lady Diane, we owe much of today’s glorious victory to
you,” the queen announced. “Therefore I decree that your reward
will be the authority to deal with the prisoners as you please. The
sun is setting. We have pledged our victory to the Unconquered
Sun and the Supreme God Di (帝). The offering will begin soon.
We need you to be our chief priestess. The gods will be overjoyed
from having so many men sacrificed to them. Otherwise, we have
a large number of sacrificial animals, including three hundred
oxen. Settle this quickly and don’t be late.”
Queen Zia promptly turned her chariot around and left.
The Chief was still sprawled on his back in the dust, a bit dazed
from the fall. At a time like this, a fall was the necessary dose of
reality for the Gotts. If the Shang had such women to lead them,
the Gotts didn’t stand much of a chance. Perhaps the Gotts could
learn from them and be stronger for it.
Lady Diane dismounted and offered the butt of her lance to the
Chief. He grabbed hold of it and pulled himself up.
“Well, now that we’ve fought,” said Lady Diane, “will the
Gotts befriend the Shang?”
The admiring Chief promptly raised the lance with Lady
Diane’s arm and the captives gave a shout of approval.
Even though Lady Diane’s voice was hoarse from a day of
shouting, she needed to make her last speech of the day.
“Brave warriors, tonight you’ll rest in safety,” she shouted at
the top of her voice. “You’ll have hot food, and our medicine men
will tend to your wounds.”
The Gotts gave another shout of approval.

“Tomorrow,” Lady Diane continued, “we’ll invite your Chief
and your chieftains to represent all the Gotts at the Ceremony of
Brotherhood, when we’ll make the oath of blood to the gods.
Afterwards, everyone will wine and dine together and share food
as family. The past quarrels will be forgotten.”
Lady Diane made a gesture to her squire, who quickly handed
over a rolled up banner. She unfurled it to show the sign of the
scorpion.
“This is the banner you’ll use,” Lady Diane said, “while you’re
friends of the Shang. We call it the flag of the Tuman, the Chief of
the myriad host, which is what the scorpion represents. The royal
court of Shang will honour your Chief from now on by this title.
Our soldiers will fight alongside each other against common
enemies. There’ll be no more raiding of Shang villages. We’ll
trade instead. No one needs to die and everyone profits. What say
you?”
The Chief raised his Tuman banner high up in the air, right
beside the banner of Lady Diane and the Shang flag. “Tuman,
Tuman, Tuman,” chanted the Gotts.
Chapter 26
Yellow Stone
ictoria and David exited the virtual world and got out of
V the EP11, which now looked like a Buick Lacrosse

parked outside a service station. It was in the wee hours
of Christmas Eve and the joint was deserted.
“Tell me some more about yourself,” Victoria said as she
nibbled on her order of poutine, “how I ended up in your care, and
why you’re protecting me.”
Victoria loved French-fries with cheese curds and gravy—the
unique Canadian culinary invention known as poutine. Belgians of
course dispute the origin of poutine, because aside from being
convinced that they make the best beers, steaks, waffles,
chocolates, and diamonds, they also insist that they are the inventor
of the original fried potato strips which they call Belgian fries, and
which they serve with all kinds of awesome sauces.
Whatever name you call it, poutine was Victoria’s favourite
snack, and she named her incurable habit the Poutine Routine.
What’s in a name? That which we call poutine by any other name
will taste just as truly scrumptious. Victoria was glad to learn that
while in Shanghai, she could get a poutine fix at Tock’s, a popular
Canadian restaurant in the city.
David showed Victoria the symbol on his clan ring.
“This symbol ( ) you see on my ring is the ancient Chinese
word for my family name Huang (黄), meaning the colour yellow.
It’s a word borrowed from the name of an arc-shaped jade
Yellow Stone 135
ornament. The original word is a drawing of that ornament.

Royalty in ancient China wore it as a symbol of their status. You
have such a huang (璜; modern word adds a jade radical) jade
pendant piece.”
Victoria pulled out her jade pendant and showed David.
“Is this expensive?” she asked.
“It’s priceless,” David said. “Your huang jade piece is closely
related to my Huang clan. According to my lineage records, our
clan founder was a Shang dynasty aristocrat by the name of Huang
Yin (黄尹), who’s supposed to be my one hundred and tenth
generation ancestor. He gave a Book of Secrets to my family
branch, to be passed down through the generations until the Bearer
of the Oracle appears. The book has an exact record of the oracle
that is carved on your huang jade.”
“What does the oracle say?” Victoria asked with a hint of
healthy skepticism on her face.
“It says something about the arrival of a cataclysmic
catastrophe,” David said, “a global apocalypse described as the
Stopping of the Sun. In other words, end times. We don’t
completely understand the message. We believe your biological
parents can explain it to us. That’s why we need to find them.”
“What happens when the sun stops?” Victoria asked with a
mixture of incredulity and trepidation.
“The earth stops spinning, followed by the displacement of the
oceans. It’ll be a tsunami no one can escape. It’ll be the Great
Deluge all over again, and it will be global. Most terrestrial life
forms on earth will perish. Velikovsky will be vindicated.”
“Who’s Velikovsky?”
“He was an author whose research in antiquities convinced him
something like this happened in the past.”
“Does this mean we’re doomed?”
“There’s hope. The Book of Secrets says that the only person
who can save the world is the Bearer of the Oracle. Since we found
you with the Oracle, which mentions your birthday and describes
your birthmark, you must be the Bearer. That means we must
protect you and we must locate your parents. They’ll be able to
explain how you can help us prevent this catastrophe, which may
end human life on earth.”
“Wait a minute, this is too much. My brain can’t process all
this. You’re giving me a brain cramp.”
“As I told you when we began this journey,” David said, “the
truth would be too shocking. Quite frankly, I was just as skeptical
as you are. I had thought that Huang Yin was just a myth until I
studied the oracle bones—archaeological artifacts excavated since
the turn of the twentieth century. Surprise, surprise! I found many
records of a Shang official by the name of Huang Yin. Although
the Book of Secrets in my possession is not the original—the
original was lost—I know my copy has been around for centuries.
It means that my ancestor’s name recorded in the Book of Secrets
is authentic and not copied from recent oracle bone discoveries.
“From our ancestor, the word Huang meaning yellow has
become a significant clan name and an important word in China.
The dominant Chinese culture was born along the Yellow River—
Huang’he (黄河). The first mythical emperor of China was called
the Yellow Emperor—Huang’di (黄帝). As you know, my family
is from Yellow County—Huang’xian (黄县).
“I was at my ancestral home in Yellow County when I saw you
for the first time. You were several months old and you had your
huang jade with you. My father, Huang Shi (黄石) or Yellow
Stone, brought you home from An’yang (安阳; calm-sun). His
name actually means royal-arched-jade, which describes the jade
piece you’re wearing. My family is somehow connected to you and
the Oracle. The only person who knows the details about your
Yellow Stone 137
biological parents is my father, but he fell into a coma before he

could explain everything. I believe you hold the key to the secrets
in his head. That’s why I’m taking you to him.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” Victoria said, “but are you sure
we’re not going on a wild goose chase?”
“Oh no, we’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” David
said. “It’s unfortunate what happened to my father, but you’re the
proof of a secret we’ve been protecting for over three thousand
years. What convinced me and other members of the secret clans
will hopefully convince you in due time. Let’s get back on the road
and I’ll take you to that fateful year when I was eight.”
The date was December 22, 1975. It was Winter Festival in
China. Winter Festival is a special day known traditionally in
China as the Extreme of Winter (冬至; dong-zhi). On this day,
Chinese families would get together and have dinner. Some people
consider this festival even more important than Chinese New Year.
David’s grandparents were living with them at the time. David,
who went by the pet name of Didi (弟弟; meaning little brother)
when he was in China, had three aunts, and they were all in his
home with their families. It was noisy, with kids running around,
and very Italian. David missed having these dinner gatherings.
Just as the family was about to sit down for dinner, a teenager
from the neighbourhood barged in and heralded in stentorian voice
the news that Uncle Huang Shi had a long distance phone call
waiting for him at the local post office. In those days, no one had
private phones. Getting a long distance phone call was a big deal.
It would get everyone to start talking excitedly all at once.
By then, the Cultural Revolution had been dragging on for over
nine years. Huang Shi was an academic biding his time as a factory
worker in his hometown of Yellow County. His promising career
as an oracle bone expert had been put on hold and languishing in a
state of perpetual limbo.
But Huang Shi didn’t lose hope. All these years, he had been
expecting a call from the city of An’yang in He’nan province (河
南; river-south), telling him to take up his research position at the
An’yang branch of the Institute of Archaeology, one of many
institutes of the Chinese Academy of Social Science.
An’yang is the site of the Shang (商; 1600–1046 BCE) ruins
known as Yin’xu (殷墟; ruins of Yin, Yin being the name of the
site in ancient times, and later historians have referred to the Shang
dynasty as Yin), where the Shang established its capital for two
hundred and seventy-three years during its blossoming until being
overthrown by its western vassal the Zhou (周; 1046‒256 BCE). It
was the only place an oracle bone scholar would want to conduct
research. It seemed that Huang Shi’s wait was finally over.
When Huang Shi returned from the call, everyone anticipated
an announcement.
“Yes, that was a call from Professor Zheng, the head of the
Institute of Archaeology at An’yang,” said Huang Shi with a rare
grin on his face, and the whole room exploded into celebration.
“But, she wanted me to go immediately.”
“You can always finish dinner,” Huang Shi’s mother said.
“No, she wanted me to get on the next bus,” Huang Shi said,
“which leaves in about fifteen minutes. Something important has
come up. I’ll have to skip dinner this year. Just put something in a
lunch box for me. I must hurry.”
“How long will you be away?” his father asked.
“Professor Zheng said that I could come home for Chinese
New Year,” Huang Shi replied, “but I don’t have an exact date. I’ll
call as soon as I know.”
“Don’t worry about us,” his father said. “Just make sure you do
your job with distinction and make the Huang clan proud. All of us
will be fine here.”
No one knew what prompted Huang Shi to skip the most
Yellow Stone 139
important dinner of the year. What could’ve happened that was so

urgent that couldn’t wait until the next day? It was all very
mysterious but everyone felt happy for Huang Shi. It had been his
dream to work at Yin’xu under Professor Zheng, who was a Peking
University alumnus and a prominent pioneer in the field. She even
contributed to several of Huang Shi’s papers while he was working
on his doctorate. Despite the pervading atmosphere of uncertainty
for all these years, Professor Zheng didn’t forget Huang Shi when
she was on the verge of making a most momentous discovery.
Huang Shi’s father had an inkling what this urgent call might be
about, but he said nothing. There had been so many false alarms in
the past; this could be just another one. So he decided to wait
patiently for Huang Shi to return in January of the new year to
learn what was behind this call of extraordinary urgency.
Chapter 27
Year of the Dragon
“I f you have tears, prepare to shed them now!”

Huang Shi heard the saddest news as he stepped off the
long distance bus at the Yellow County bus stop. The
date was January 8, 1976. The radio announced that the people’s
beloved Premier Zhou Enlai (周恩来) had passed away. Huang Shi
had never seen so many adult men and women spontaneously weep
at the same time. It was as if China had been smitten by the holy
plague and God had struck down the first born of every house.
When Huang Shi entered his dimly lit home, everyone waited
for him to deliver happier news. But the sullen-faced Huang Shi
said nothing. He just went inside his bedroom and shut himself up.
The approaching Chinese New Year would be the Year of the
Dragon. It should have been an auspicious year for China. No one
had expected the three stars to fall from the sky that year. Premier
Zhou was the first to go. Grand Marshal Zhu De (朱德 ), the
founder of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), followed his
comrade on July 4. Finally, it was Chairman Mao’s turn to make
the grand exit on September 9.
In March, the largest rock ever to fall from the heavens landed
near the city of Jilin (吉林市; old name was Kirin) in Manchuria.
In April, the Gang of Four purged the rehabilitated Deng Xiaoping
again. Deng had the dubious honour to have been purged twice
during the Cultural Revolution. He was sixty-five years old when
he was first banished from the central government to work in a
Year of the Dragon 141
remote factory. He was seventy-one when he was purged again.

His son Deng Pufang (邓朴方) became a paraplegic after falling
from the fourth floor of a building while trying to escape from the
Red Guards. Deng’s younger brother committed suicide rather than
suffer humiliation at the hands of the stirred up mob.
Deng was way past retirement age; he didn’t deserve this
treatment after a lifetime of sacrifice for the revolution. Yet Deng
didn’t give up and die a bitter old man. Dying is easy; revolution is
hard. In the face of impossible odds, Deng refused to concede
defeat, rising instead from the ashes at the ripe old age of seventy-
two to lead the nation to greatness, helping even those who had
tortured him and his family. The once all powerful Gang of Four
naturally went to the dustbin of history, and suffered eternal
damnation in the tenth pit of the ninth circle of Dante’s hell.
In May, an undisturbed royal Shang tomb was discovered at
Yin’xu. It belonged to the warrior queen Fu Hao, who was well
known among Shang scholars by the more than two hundred
previously excavated oracle bones mentioning her name. It was a
stunning discovery of the ages by Professor Zheng, and Huang Shi
was a member of her team. Fu Hao is Queen Zia in our story.
Several days later, disaster struck David’s family when his
father vanished from the face of the earth. David’s grandfather
died of a broken heart in An’yang after failing to find any trace of
Huang Shi. China has an old saying, “good luck never comes in
pairs while misfortune never strikes alone.” It’s Murphy’s Law
with Chinese characteristics. David perforce became the head of
the household and the Guardian of the Oracle at the age of nine.
In July, before the tears had dried, twentieth century’s most
destructive earthquake flattened Tang’shan, the hometown of
David’s mom. Six hundred and fifty thousand went to bed and
never woke. It was carnage of apocalyptic scale.
In China, natural disasters presage great change. It was a year

that tested the endurance of the nation, its people, and the
leadership. How much more tears must China shed? Was there an
end to the number of bodies the people must bury? For the long-
suffering survivors, they needed to be reminded of the immortal
motto: Sic transit gloria mundi—thus passes the glory of the world;
dum vivimus vivamus—while we live, let us live.
Huang Shi would be spared the horrors of Tang’shan, but what
he witnessed when he arrived at An’yang was infinitely more
horrifying. Huang Shi finally decided to leave his room and talk to
his father and son about what had transpired.
“What happened at An’yang?” Huang Shi’s father asked. “Has
the Bearer of the Oracle arrived?”
“I see you’ve guessed it.”
“The Oracle does mention the birthday of the Bearer.”
“I totally forgot about that,” Huang Shi said. “At first, I thought
Professor Zheng urgently needed my help to deal with a discovery.
When I got there, I found that a young man had insisted on
meeting me. He had promised to show Professor Zheng a historic
discovery. He seemed to have mesmerized her.
“This young man also knows that I’m the Guardian of the
Oracle. He said that his wife had just given birth to a baby girl at
sunrise on the day of the Winter Festival. He showed me a huang
jade piece with the Oracle carved on it. The words matched exactly
what is recorded in the Book of Secrets. If the prophecy of the
Oracle is true, then the end is here, and his daughter is the only one
who can stop it. The young parents are in trouble and can’t protect
the baby, so it’s up to us.”
“Did he show you any proof?”
“He has a suitcase that has astonishing powers,” Huang Shi
said. “He showed me the future with it; a future he said would
happen if his daughter fell into the hands of the Watchers.”
Year of the Dragon 143
“The Watchers?”
“They’re powerful agents of a secretive organization known as
DIAS. They always work in pairs, wear dark clothing, and carry a
suitcase or briefcase. They’re very determined and they won’t stop
until they get the baby girl. We must protect the Bearer of the
Oracle from the Watchers until her powers manifest in due time.
The survival of humanity depends on it.”
“What future did you see?”
“When the young man opened the suitcase, a golden light
shone into my eyes. I felt that I went to another world. Everything
was very real. I saw how the world would end. It’s horrifying and
beyond description. Then the young man told me what I saw was
the best scenario. That’s an idea I can’t comprehend.”
Didi didn’t understand everything the grown-ups were saying,
but he could see that his father’s face turned deadly pale as he
recalled the images of hell.
“Where’s the baby?” Huang Shi’s father asked.
“The baby’s still with her parents,” Huang Shi said. “They say
she’s too small and not ready. They’ll arrange for me to pick up the
baby in May. The good news is, I’m getting my research job after
all. I’ll return to An’yang in April when excavation season starts.
We’ll have a few months to prepare Didi. Since we’re the
Guardian of the Oracle, Didi must learn about the secret and our
duty. We’ll have to guard the Bearer of the Oracle with our lives.
If anything happens to me, then you and Didi will have to carry on.
We must also plan for a meeting of the secret Shang clans. We’ll
need all the help we can get.”
When April came along, Huang Shi bid farewell to his family
and left for An’yang. Huang Shi didn’t know that he had said his
last goodbye to his father, and that he wouldn’t be a part of his
son’s growing up.
Chapter 28
The Collector
ictoria found a big hole in David’s story. The math didn’t
V add up. David was talking about 1976. That was way
before her time.
“Who’s this saviour of yours?” Victoria asked. “You can’t be
talking about me.”
“Patience, my dear,” David said. “You can decide after you’ve
met my father and looked at all the evidence.”
“Then perhaps you can tell me how you ended up in Canada,
and how you got the money to afford all this advanced gadgets.”
“That’s a little easier to explain,” David said. “Let me take you
to a Sotheby’s auction where I sold my first lucky vase.”
Victoria found herself transported with David to a Sotheby’s
auction room filled with mostly rich Asians and agents, all holding
a numbered paddle.
“This is Hong Kong Sotheby’s,” David whispered. “They’re
going to start bidding on my vase.”
The auctioneer showed the artefact to the room and began the
bidding process.
“Lot 121, ladies and gentlemen—a flawless vase of Southern
Song (南宋; 1127‒1279 CE) Xiu-nei-si (修内司; Department of
Internal Manufacture) Royal Kiln in the shape of a Shang-Zhou
vessel, coated with crystalline crackled glaze over stunning jadeite
green. This item, discovered in an old antique shop in Beijing
which once belonged to the Qing dynasty Prince-Regent Chun (醇
The Collector 145
亲王), Zaifeng (载沣), father of Aisin Gioro Puyi (溥仪) the last
emperor of China, is extremely rare in its pristine condition,
showing here. May I start at five hundred thousand US dollars?”
Someone promptly raised his paddle.
“Five hundred thousand, I’m bid,” the auctioneer sang like a
rapper as he picked up speed. “Do I hear six hundred thousand?
Six hundred thousand … thank you sir. This vase is a once in a
lifetime find. Do I hear seven?”
An aristocratic man dressed in impeccable Hayward bespoke
suit, tailored Charvet shirt, and Armani silk ascot with paddle
number eleven nonchalantly raised the bid to one million.
“One million; I have a bid of one million dollars. Thank you,
sir. Do I hear a raise?”
The bidding soon turned frantic, with agents running out to call
their clients and rushing back to get into the game.
Finally the bids slowed down and the air became tense.
“The bid is eight million five hundred thousand US dollars.
Going once … twice …” the auctioneer called and looked around
as he took out his handkerchief to dab the perspiration on his
forehead. Then he banged the auction hammer with flair and
declared triumphantly, “Sold for eight million five hundred
thousand US dollars to Count Petrov von Petersdorf.”
The buyer with paddle number eleven put on his Herbert
Johnson handcrafted poet hat and exited the room. Victoria could
see that the man had a pale complexion, auburn hair, and sported a
well-trimmed beard. He held a walking cane of fossilized wood
that had a golden knob, and he wore a custom-made diamond
studded eye-patch over his left eye.
“Do you know who the buyer is?” Victoria asked.
“No. I tried to check him out,” David said, “but he vanished
into thin air after buying the vase. His name and title are bogus.
Petersdorf just means a village full of Peters. Petrov and Peter both
mean rock. His name is Russian, but von Petersdorf is German.

Rich people are eccentric. I don’t care as long as I get paid. I made
a killing on the sale. I found the vase at Beijing’s antique shopping
area Liu-li-chang (琉璃厂; Glaze Factory). Guess how much I paid
for it … 850 RMB (short for Renminbi, people’s currency), which
was about a hundred US dollars at the time. This sale paved the
way for many more afterwards.”
“You mean some poor fellow sold the vase to you for one
hundred dollars and you turned around and sold it for eight-and-a-
half million. Is that moral?”
“It’s fair and free market capitalism. No one feels sorry for the
natives who sold the Manhattan Island to Peter Minuit for sixty
guilders. Both sides were happy with the deal. Sixty guilders can’t
buy one square-foot today, while the original vendors didn’t
actually own the real estate. This funny transaction is supposed to
represent fair and free trade. If I pay someone on the street fifty
dollars for the CN Tower, does that make me the owner? This
proves the fundamental law of property that you do not own what
you cannot defend. The rest is just bullshit and balderdash.
“As for my vase, it’s probably worth about a month’s food and
lodging for the Beijing guy and his family, so he got a good deal.
Outside of China where lots of hot cash sloshes around, someone
believes the story of the Southern Song Royal Kiln and the Qing
Prince-Regent, and he’s happy to pay me eight-and-a-half mil.
Who can say it’s not worth that? Who am I to complain?”
Victoria shook her head in disbelief.
“Mind you, the buyer hasn’t lost anything,” David added. “He
has simply exchanged his illusory wealth or even debt into the
ownership of an object which can magically generate more illusory
wealth later. Besides, now that the auction has established the
value of the vase, he can buy insurance to reinforce the illusion.
When the accountants calculate his assets, they can easily add ten
The Collector 147
million dollars into the balance sheet. The banks will give him
more cheap credit with which he can buy other fancy toys of
illusory wealth. You know who gets ripped off in the end?”
“I know you didn’t get ripped off.”
“A lot of people get ripped off without knowing it. In fact,
many people support getting ripped off hoping that someday they
can do the ripping off. Notice how a vase simply goes from one
place to another and suddenly, the world’s wealth increases by
eight-and-a-half million dollars. And it all ends up in my pocket as
cash. It’s the lifetime income for a whole village toiling to create
real wealth over a patch of rice paddy. This illusory wealth
creation is like magic; it’s sleight of hand and misdirection. The
Beijing guy is not in the game and that’s why he doesn’t get any.
“Our system rewards those who create the illusion of wealth,
and it puts all that illusory wealth in the pockets of the
illusionists—the one-percenters. Our system also creates a
henchman class to enforce the use of this illusory wealth which we
call capital. The producers and makers of food, goods, and
infrastructure are true wealth producers, and yet they always lack
illusory wealth because they’re not in the game.
“The more illusory wealth we create out of thin air, the poorer
the true wealth producers become. It’s a paradox and an oxymoron.
It’s fair game because the true wealth producers are easily duped,
and the victims don’t know that they’re victims. If they somehow
wake up from their stupendous stupor and question the Big Lie, the
enforcers will immediately vilify them as lazy, stupid, and parasitic
thieves, and promptly declare war on them.
“The Big Lie also owns the poisoned narrative, perverted and
propounded by the mainstream media which is mainly a federation
of feculent factories of fabrication that fans the flames of violence.
The true wealth producers have become so stupefied and powerless
that their only choice is to join the attack dogs and put the blame
on immigrants and foreign countries.”
“If you don’t like the system that makes you rich,” Victoria
said, “you should stop being a one-percenter yourself. Otherwise,
you’d just be a hypocrite.”
“Yes, unfortunately,” David said, “the Big Lie is the only game
in town. Even if you don’t like it, you’ll have to live in it. It’s like
pollution. You need to breathe even if the air is dirty. You know
that the game is rigged but you still have to play it. You’ll just
have to beat the devil at its own game without becoming one of
them. My grandfather taught me never to take a knife to a gunfight.
The question is what are you prepared to do? How low will you go?
That’s the most dangerous part of the fight.”
“To tell the truth,” said Victoria as she tried to suppress a yawn.
“I’m tired of all this fighting. I’m also feeling sleepy.”
“Yeah, I’m quite tired myself,” said David, catching the yawn
from Victoria. “Let’s exit the VR and get some sleep. Moira will
block out exterior light so that we can have a good rest.”
Victoria made herself comfortable lying down across the back
seats. She was beginning to feel safe in David’s presence. When
she interfaced with David in the VR module, she could sense more
than just the illusion of the game. She felt confident that David was
telling the truth and that he would never harm her.
“David, I’ve been thinking, apart from that one time you’ve
had to protect me from a gunman, you’re basically a gentleman
and a scholar. You remind me of a professor.”
“I was a professor,” David said wistfully. “I followed my
father’s footsteps to become a scholar of antiquities. I was a top
student, graduating magna cum laude from Peking University, and
I did my post-graduate studies at the University of Toronto.
“After getting my doctorate, I stayed at U of T to teach ancient
Chinese culture at the Department of East Asian Studies. I was also
The Collector 149
hired by the Royal Ontario Museum to catalogue their large

collection of oracle bones donated by Minister James Menzies and
Rev. William White. I would’ve died happy working both jobs.
But ROM funds dried up, I didn’t get tenure at U of T. All of a
sudden, I was looking for work.
“I had just gotten married, bought a house in Toronto with a
hefty mortgage, and my first child was on the way. What could I
do but to use my knowledge to sell myths? That was how I became
a capitalist. I was powerless against the Big Lie. I didn’t know I
was enslaved until I was put in my place. A person who depends
on a salary cannot afford the truth. I learned to adopt capitalism’s
winner-takes-all mentality and was handsomely rewarded. Greed is
great and selfishness breeds success; the hell with the rest of the
pea-brained humanity. These are the rules of the game. When
China opened for business, I found easy victims. My art and
antique business became lucrative. I just never looked back.”
Victoria was already asleep. David’s mind went back for a
second to a time when he was young and innocent. He sighed,
retrieved a fleece blanket from storage and pulled it over Victoria.
The ghostly shadow of the invisible vehicle sped through the
darkness like a phantom on the Trans-Canada Highway. Up in the
sky, the Orion shone bright. A cigar-shaped interstellar visitor
tumbled and rolled across the starry firmament. Earth called this
mysterious visitor Oumuamua, meaning distant messenger. It
appeared to have been just a rock from outer space. It was in fact a
Pollinator. It came from long ago and far away to deposit
something on earth. It was not the first time Earth was visited by a
Pollinator. A small spherical gadget landed on the Trans-Canada
Highway and attached itself to the EP11 as it sped by.
Chapter 29
Field of Dreams
ictoria had always lived a structured life, going to bed at
V eleven and waking up at seven. She liked the crisp

energy of early morning when everyone was up and
about getting ready for a new day. She loved to hear the soothing
melody of Peer Gynt Suites playing in the background with
Michael humming along. Victoria liked her eggs sunny side up and
her Canadian bacon in thick slices. She energized herself with
Two-percent milk and buttered Pumpernickel. She decided that she
would start drinking latte when she reached seventeen.
This was just another average morning for Victoria and her
family. Without warning, the quiet idyllic small town breakfast
was interrupted by a loud buzz. Before they realized what was
going on, a monster robot claw ripped off the whole top of the
house, leaving the stunned family of three enveloped in a cloud of
dust and debris.
Several drones were flying up in the clear blue sky, weaving a
pattern of jet trails that resembled a heavenly net. A pink heart-
shaped balloon floated into the exposed kitchen. The balloon
popped by itself emitting a shock wave that knocked Victoria and
her parents to the floor. The room was instantly filled with smart
flying bomblets that had spinning scythes. All the bomblets burned
with an eerie blue flame. They danced in circles and flitted about
in the room slashing, crushing, and exploding to the mellifluous
melody of the Intermezzo playing in the background.
Field of Dreams 151
When the dust settled and the bomblets had done their
dastardly deed, Victoria beheld a most frightening scene. Her
parents were holding on to each other but they had lost their heads.
Inexplicably, there was no blood. She saw wires and optical fibres
where there should have been veins and arteries. She looked down
to see that she had likewise lost her arms and legs, exposing
electronics.
Shrapnel had struck her in the left eye, and her eyeball had
fallen out of its socket. It had caught fire and was burning with a
bright blue blaze. The eyeball started moving on its own and
transformed into a mechanical scorpion. Victoria thought, “This is
a nightmare; this is definitely a nightmare.” She closed her eye and
repeated to herself, “There’s no place like home; there’s no place
like home; there’s no place like home.” When she opened her eyes,
she was inside the EP11, also named the Starship Bozeman. The
Intermezzo from Pietro Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana was
playing in the background.
“Are you alright?” David asked.
“I just had the scariest nightmare,” Victoria said.
Normally, Victoria’s mom would be there to comfort her, but
now she must cope on her own. Victoria hugged the blanket to
calm herself. She could feel an avalanche of synaptic sparks firing
up her nervous system. Something was happening to Victoria that
made her feel that she was undergoing metamorphosis. She felt
that her nerves were toughening into strands of cold steel. Victoria
knew that there would be death and danger in her life, but she must
not succumb to fear.
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” she said. “Are we there yet?”
“Long way to go,” David said. “We just passed Medicine Hat.
Calgary is coming up. We’ll be staying overnight at Field. Moira
got us rooms and reserved a table for us at Truffle Pigs. We’ll have
a proper Christmas Eve dinner.”
“Why are we staying at Field?” Victoria asked. “Why don’t we

stop at Calgary instead? I’d love to see Calgary.”
“Moira decided to skip Calgary,” David said. “She prefers
somewhere out of the way. Field is a nice stopover in the Rockies,
with less than a hundred people and far from the madding crowd.
We can also check out the wonderful life of the Burgess Shale.”
“Burgess Shale … I remember it from crossword puzzles.”
“Yes, it’s a record of weird life forms buried in stone from five
hundred million years ago. Something caused the decimation of all
these strange alien-looking critters so that half a billion years later,
you and I can talk about the meaning of life.”
“Isn’t life strange?”
“It’s also wonderful,” David said, “and we depend on you to
prevent the next decimation.”
“I don’t know if I’m prepared for that,” Victoria said. “I think
for now, I’ll concentrate on what’s for dinner.”
“Do you have any favourite dishes you’d like to order for
dinner tonight? Moira can order ahead.”
“The place is called Truffle Pigs. I think I’ll just have their
pork special. But what about you? I thought Jewish people don’t
eat pork. We can eat somewhere else. It’s no big deal.”
“That’s okay. We’re not strict kosher observers, so I’ll survive
a turkey dinner at Truffle Pigs. Besides, Moira made the decision.
She knows you’ll like Truffle Pigs. She may feel hurt if we make a
last minute change.”
“Moira seems to know a lot about me.”
“She does. She knows that you love pork, and home is where
the hog is.”
“That’s clever,” Victoria exclaimed.
“It’s also factual,” David said. “The Chinese have a close
relationship with pigs since antiquity. The Shang peasants kept
Field of Dreams 153
pigs in their homes. As a matter of fact, the Oracle Bone character

for home (家: jia) is a pig under a roof ( ).”
“Talking about home,” Victoria said, “how’s your family
taking all this—you being not at home for Christmas and risking
your life for a stranger?”
“We don’t celebrate Christmas. We’re a Jewish household,
remember? My wife thinks that I’m at Mumbai making a bid for
the Buddha’s Śarīra (舍利子; cremation crystalline residual), a
religious relic of great value in China. As for my duty towards you,
it is the same as my duty towards humanity and my family. I love
my family, but in order to save them, I must protect you and take
you to my father. The oath of the Guardian will end with me. I’ll
do my duty but I don’t want my family to be involved in any way.”
“You mean they have no idea about this fancy car?”
“Nope, none whatsoever.”
“How about the VR Gamebox? It’s so real I can smell the
gunpowder and feel the wind on my face.”
“It’s a game-station prototype my associates are developing
with Tencent. It’ll take a couple of decades to hit the market. The
Watchers may have even better tech. My grandfather taught me…”
“Never take a knife to a gunfight,” Victoria finished David’s
sentence. “But I don’t understand how these big companies would
let you have their advanced technologies. How much money do
you have to spend?”
“My money is just an insurance policy for my wife and kids.
It’s nothing compared to the combined power of the secret Shang
clans. While I’m the Guardian of the Oracle, I don’t operate alone.
I’m supported by a network of clan descendants with lineages that
are as old as mine starting from the Shang dynasty.”
“Can we have a quick tour of the Shang kingdom?” Victoria
asked. “I’ve heard of the Han before but this is the first time I hear
about the Shang. I want to know what their oracle says about me.”
Chapter 30
Sudden Death
avid and Victoria were outside a bustling settlement on a
D slightly rising landscape. There were soldiers everywhere

but, amazingly, no high city walls expected of a capital.
The only defence appeared to be a moat around the settlement, low
mud terraces at the perimeter, and some watch towers. At the
centre of the capital city was the palace complex. This was fenced.
The settlement area sloped down to the north towards the Huan
River (洹河; huan-he, also An’yang River), which provided water
for drinking and cleaning, and for irrigating the large stretch of
wheat fields, rice paddies, vegetable patches, and fruit groves to
the south. The river also provided fish, river shrimps, and a variety
of riparian food products. Chicken, ducks, and pigs were
everywhere. No one in the city would ever go hungry.
It was early autumn. The crops would soon be ready for
harvest. The Shang king Di Xin (帝辛; after a king’s death, he
becomes an intermediate god and receives the title Di) was on
another one of his wars of conquest. This time, he was warring
against the Eastern Barbarians (东夷; dong-yi). The excuse was
that they’re threatening Shang’s salt supply. Di Xin would be
victorious as in his numerous other campaigns. The people would
welcome him home with a triumphant reception. Captives and
animals would be sacrificed to the creator god Di (帝; Shang’s
supreme god, pictogram of a flower bud; OB: ), and there would
be a month long drinking fest.
Sudden Death 155
“Where are we?” Victoria asked.

“This is the famous capital of Shang,” David replied, “known
to us as Yin (殷). Do you remember the name?”
“Yes, your father worked at An’yang, which is close to Yin’xu,
the ruins of Yin.”
“That’s right. The Shang was a migrating tribe. It has a
traditional history of having migrated thirteen times; six times after
the establishment of the dynasty. One of its early chiefs was
credited with inventing caravan trading. The tribe gained military,
political, technological, economic, and cultural dominance in the
plains of lower Yellow River during the sixteenth century BCE.
The Shang kingdom experienced a great blossoming at Yin which
was their last capital until the Zhou tribe toppled them in 1046
BCE. Yin (殷) means thriving. The Shang sowed the seeds for the
development of the advanced Chinese civilization right here.”
“How did the Shang gain dominance over the other tribes when
they’re all basically cavemen from the same area?”
“From their tradition of multiple migrations, we may guess that
the Shang survived difficult times. They might’ve travelled long
distances allowing their promethean progenitors to gather and
develop knowledge otherwise not available to a tribe living a
comfortable sedentary lifestyle. In any case, by the time they
settled at Yin, the Shang had become a highly civilized agricultural
people famous for their religious fervour and military prowess.
They gave China its first writing system, horse-drawn chariots,
astronomy, and advanced bronze casting technologies. Their
superiority would easily dominate and assimilate any Stone Age
tribes they came into contact with.”
“Awesome,” Victoria exclaimed. “Any theories on where the
Shang may have come from?”
“We can only speculate,” David said. “For example, the Shang
produced astronomers that gave us very accurate calendars. They
devised the Shang calendar using the cycle of sixty, first used by
the Sumerians and the ancient Egyptians. It was however the
Shang’s innovation to name each position of the cycle by the
combination of the Ten Celestial Stems and Twelve Earthly
Branches. Thanks to the Shang, the Chinese, as well as other Asian
countries, still use this system for counting their years.”
“Did the Shang develop the Chinese animal zodiac?”
“It’s a later development based on this original Shang calendar.
Do you know you’re a rabbit?”
“Oh, I love bunnies. Tell me more.”
“The Shang uniquely used the twelve-year Jovian cycle to
measure their age, which likely gave rise to the Twelve Earthly
Branches and later the Animal Zodiac.”
“Jovian means …”
“Of Jupiter; the Shang called Jupiter the Age Star (岁星; sui-
xing). The Shang’s Jupiter-based year is simply six sixty-day
cycles plus one day, and twelve such Shang Age years make
exactly one Jovian year of 4,332 days. Do you still think it’s the
work of primitive cavemen?”
“Wow, they’re blowing my mind right now. What other
amazing things did they do?”
“The Shang uniquely had the ability to make large bronze
vessels with intricate designs that put their technological capability
more than a thousand years ahead of the West.”
“Are they aliens?”
“I’m pretty sure they’re not aliens. On the other hand, Shang’s
founding myth is for some reason connected to the distant Antares
of the Scorpius constellation, which is also known as Shang Star or
Big Fire. I don’t know of any other founding myth of a Chinese
dynasty that is connected to a star. It’s not even a planet and it’s
not always seen in the night sky. The mythical founder of the
Shang tribe is a demigod known as Xie (契; carve, covenant), born
Sudden Death 157
from his mother after she swallowed the egg of a black bird. He’s
the god of the star Big Fire. He’s also China’s ancient god of fire.”
“Is it possible that Xie is the Promethean alien,” Victoria
remarked, “who brought the spark of divine fire to the Shang?”
“You do have a rich imagination. There is indeed an enigmatic
passage about Xie in a very ancient book. The history commentary
Zuo Zhuan (左传) says that Xie had a brother by the name of
Shishen (实沈) who was an implacable foe of Xie. In order to stop
the brothers from constantly warring against each other, their
father the mythical god-king Di Ku (帝喾) sent them off to realms
separated by a great distance. While Xie is the god of Antares,
Shishen is the god of Orion. The two gods are never seen in the
night sky at the same time. This story parallels the Greek myth of
Orion the giant hunter and the heavenly scorpion.”
“This is the proof,” Victoria said. “Xie is the alien from
Antares that brought civilization to the Shang.”
“Not so fast,” David said. “Xie was only a demigod in Shang’s
foundation myth. While the Shang believed in many minor gods
and spirits, they believed in a supreme creator god of the universe
known as Di (帝; from the flower bud; the modern form 蒂 has a
flower radical), the word that is later borrowed to mean emperor.”
“I remember Di from the Yellow Emperor,” Victoria said. “His
name is Huang’di.”
“Correctamundo!” David said. “This creator god Di is not well
understood, even by most Chinese. What is the origin of this god?
What is the meaning of his name?”
“I’m assuming you know.”
“The best I can do is guess,” David said. “You’ll decide what is
real. For example, this supreme creator god Di of the Shang
coincidentally is cognate with the Indo-European root ‘dyeu’ for
god or sky, from which we get Deus, the Latin word for god, and
Dies, Latin for day. From ‘dyeu’ we also get Zeus of the Greeks
and Jupiter of the Romans. Dionysus, the famous wine god, the
Dioscuri, the twin gods, Diana, the Greek goddess of the hunt, and
Dyaus, the Aryan sky god are all derived from the same root.
Today, the Italian word for God is Dio and the Spanish is Dios. It’s
Dieu in French, Dev in Hindi, Dia in Irish, and Duw in Welsh.
Even the Zhou tribe worshipped a supreme sky god Tian (天; sky)
which is cognate with the same root.”
“Are you saying the Shang was Indo-European?”
“I’m saying nothing of the sort. First, culture is not the same as
ethnicity. Both are complicated and involve constant intermixing,
mutations, and evolution. I’m just pointing out that perhaps human
beings are all connected in some ways. Our ancestors may have
come from one village and heard the same tall tales.”
As David and Victoria were chatting, several columns of black
smoke rose in the west from afar. Messengers on horseback were
racing towards the capital. People dropped what they were doing
and swarmed into a crowd to find out about the latest rumours.
“What does the black smoke mean?” Victoria asked.
“These are war signals,” David replied. “It means that an
enemy is on the march. The Zhou is leading a rebellion.”
“I thought that the Shang was famous for their military prowess.
What gives Zhou the courage to rebel?”
“The Shang has a very strong military, and Di Xin is a famous
hero-king who has fought numerous battles and won just as many
glorious victories. Good fortune sometimes gets to people’s head.
The natural progression of good fortune, hubris, and nemesis has
been proven true every time and still people choose to ignore it.
The king has gone off to the east to fight a war against the Eastern
Barbarians. The oracle tells him that he’ll triumph. He thinks that
his western flank is safe because it’s protected by his trusted vassal,
the Zhou (周; means to organize or to sculpt). He also has a lot of
Sudden Death 159
aristocratic relatives defending Yin. But he forgot to ask the

oracles whether his own house would be safe.
“Hubris has blinded Di Xin to the fact that his two elder
brothers Weizi (微子) and Weizhong (微仲), as well as his uncle
Jizi (箕子), have legitimate claims to the Shang throne and are not
united in defence of his reign. Di Xin’s own son Crown Prince
Wugeng (武庚; Martial VII) has been scheming against the king’s
favourite concubine Daji (妲己) who holds the king under her spell.
Sensing the Shang’s internal schism and the absence of the Shang
army on another foreign expedition, the Duke of Zhou casts the die
and leads his neighbouring tribes in an armed rebellion.”
“The Duke of Zhou is a traitor!” Victoria exclaimed.
“Indeed. It’s a treacherous stab in the back. But history belongs
to the victor. Under the pen of Zhou annalists, Di Xin’s heroic
exploits are flushed down the memory hole and forgotten. He
becomes a good-for-nothing drunken tyrant beguiled by the
feminine poison of his femme fatale concubine Daji, while the
long-suffering and perfectly virtuous Duke of Zhou has been a
victim of Di Xin’s disastrous rule. He overturns Di Xin only to
restore order according to the Mandate of Heaven (Tian, the
supreme god of Zhou means sky or heaven). We may choose to
believe in any or all of the above. History, as we know it, is mostly
the glorification of murders told by liars to idiots.”
“Well, at least I’m not alone,” Victoria said, smiling.
The Zhou army was pressing near. Some of the peasants
scurried off the fields to seek cover inside the palace compound.
Others crossed the Huan River to escape the coming onslaught.
“This is the fate of Di Xin and the glorious Shang,” David said.
“My Huang clan thought that this was the end times and that the
Bearer of the Oracle would emerge. But all they witnessed was the
passing of their worldly glory. Their capital was taken, enemy
soldiers plundered their homes, and their dynasty fell apart.
Fortunately, the royal lineage survived. It perpetuated under other

names. More importantly, Shang culture lives on through its
unconquered writing. And because of this inheritance, Chinese
culture has survived numerous foreign invasions, foreign conquests,
and foreign rulers. The Chinese always conquers their foreign
conquerors, not by the sword, but by the word.”
“That’s very poetic,” Victoria said, “except your enemy won’t
hurl books at you in the battlefield. What’s that you say about
never taking a knife to a gunfight?”
“That’s true too. Cultural conquest sometimes takes centuries,
and China’s long-suffering peasants would rather not live for too
long under the boot of brutal barbarians. They would eventually
get tired of the oppressive bullshit and take up arms. That’s the
time when everyone would learn again that you do not own
anything which you cannot defend, and you cannot always defend
by wielding a pen. On the other hand, China’s military philosopher
Sun Tzu said, ‘The best strategy is to repel your opponent’s army
without battle.’ It’s important to have the means to defend oneself,
but it’s best not to depend on it too much.
“The Sage Yellow Stone ( 黄石公 ; huang-shi-gong), my
famous ancestor after whom my father was named, said, ‘The soft
can conquer the hard; the weak can conquer the strong.’ Confucius
(孔夫子: kong-fu-zi, Master Kong) also advised restrain. He said,
‘Control your desires and be respectful; that is to be saintly.’
People who believe only in the virtues of violence and war are
sadly mistaken. Those who think superior military is the only
measure of success will be swallowed by time like all the others
before them.”
David and Victoria walked up the mound towards the fenced
palace. From this vantage position, they could see the army of the
Zhou and their allies marching inexorably along both banks of the
Sudden Death 161
Huan River towards the Shang capital, pouring forth as a deluge

over the unharvested fields of the undefended Yin.
Victoria was sad to witness the collapse of such a highly
civilized kingdom. The beautiful city of Yin would soon be buried
and forgotten. David began to wax poetic on the fall of empires.
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings; look on my works, ye
mighty, and despair!”
Victoria, who had learned Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Ozymandias
in her literature class, joined David in reciting the poem.
“Nothing beside remains, round the decay of that colossal
wreck. Boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far
away.”
Chapter 31
Birth of Confucius
linded by hubris and his untarnished record of military
B success, Di Xin decided to take the field and fight a

pitched battle with the Zhou rebels on the plains of
Mu’ye (牧野; means grazing pastures) outside of his walled city
Zhao’ge (朝歌). By this time, the Zhou rebels had already captured
Yin without a fight.
Victoria and David were at Mu’ye to witness the final battle.
Leading the Zhou army were three royal chariots. The commander
in the middle was the Duke of Zhou. He was a man in his early
fifties, still muscular but with a paunch. His lictor carried a large
shining bronze fasces, and his flag carrier raised a white banner
adorned with a bull’s tail.
The word on the Duke’s flag was Ji (姬; OB: ; the shape on
the left resembles the eye), the clan name of the royal house of
Zhou. The word means beautiful royal woman. Here’s the clue that
the Zhou tribe was once matriarchal. The royal family name has a
female radical. Zhou by now had adopted most of Shang’s
patriarchal culture. It was under Zhou that primogeniture took root.
On the Duke’s right was a tall slender man with long white hair
and flowing white beard. He looked more like a wizard than a
warrior. He was dressed in black and his banner was also black. He
was the famous Great Sage Jiang (姜太公; jiang-tai-gong). On his
flag was the name Jiang (姜). The oracle bone script shows a
female wearing a sheep headdress (OB: ). The sheep headdress
Birth of Confucius 163
is used to denote beauty, hence the word Jiang like Ji also means a
beautiful woman, but from the common population.
At the time of the battle, Great Sage Jiang was eighty-two
years old. The Duke’s father found Jiang ten years earlier fishing
by a river without a hook. The senior Duke was intrigued and
asked the ancient angler what he was doing. The sage said, “I catch
only the willing.” The old Duke was hooked, and he hired Jiang on
the spot. Good call, because the Great Sage Jiang would help Zhou
topple Shang rule. Jiang himself would become the founding
patrician father of the vassal state of Qi (齐), which encompassed
most of the province of Shandong, David’s home province.
Upon taking Yin, the Great Sage Jiang made a beeline for the
Huang family manor and ordered his soldiers to ransack the place.
It took a lot of breaking and smashing but the Sage found what he
was looking for. He took nothing except the Book of Secrets. The
Huang clan would follow the book to Jiang’s vassal state of Qi,
where they have stayed to the present day.
To the left of the Duke of Zhou was his Duchess consort who
was the daughter of the Great Sage Jiang and the mother of the
future king of Zhou. Suffice it to say, the Jiang family held great
sway over the affairs of Zhou.
At the Battle of Mu’ye, the Zhou army, supported by its
neighbouring tribes, including the western nomadic Qin, which
would one day found the first empire of a united China, charged
into the ranks of the Shang. Half of Di Xin’s hurriedly assembled
army was composed of slaves impressed from conquered tribes,
many of whom were kin folks of the rebels. All of them turned tail
and fled, causing the Shang army to crumple from within.
David and Victoria were standing near the main action at the
centre of the battlefield. Something in the sky blocked the sun and
cast a shadow over them. It was a torrential downpour of arrows.
David quickly made a hand signal and they were instantly
transported to the front yard of a peaceful straw hut hiding in a

wooded dell far from the madding crowd. The arrows had
transformed in the blink of an eye into a flurry of furry poplar
seeds dancing like snowflakes in the summer breeze. Victoria
giggled nervously at the trick.
Mu’ye was Di Xin’s first military setback. He had met his
nemesis but it was by no means fatal. Rather than running away to
fight another day, Di Xin killed himself in abject shame.
For Di Xin at Mu’ye, the collapse came all of a sudden. It had
actually taken years of wilful blindness to the internal rot for this to
happen. Every wanton slaughter of a defenceless tribe told a lie
that reinforced the deep-rooted illusion that it made Shang great.
The people didn’t see it coming either. They had been wining and
dining on the ill-gotten gains of Di Xin’s rapine and plunder.
Those who didn’t receive their fair share of loot wagged their
righteous and indignant fingers at their helpless victims. Gilded
words of hypocrisy poisoned everyone. Warnings from the oracles
were blithely ignored. The people cheered Di Xin’s military
adventures and accepted the accompanying atrocities as routine
collateral misfortunes. They preferred to slow cook in the cauldron
of delusions and lies. The collapse happened gradually over the
decades, and then it came all at once at Mu’ye.
After the Duke of Zhou took over the mandate of heaven from
Shang, he was proclaimed the Martial King of Zhou (周武王;
zhou-wu-wang). His rule in the beginning was precarious and he
tried to placate the people of Shang by allowing Di Xin’s son
Wugeng (武庚) to rule Yin as a vassal.
Jizi (箕子), the uncle of Di Xin, migrated to the northeast of
China and ruled the region. Koreans call him Gija, and consider
him the founding father of the Korean civilization. Jizi came from
the lineage of Yarjee ( 亚其; ya-qi), Queen Zia’s father. Their
names show the same clan symbol, a basket (OB: ).
When the Martial King of Zhou died only two years after
ascending the throne, the crown prince was still young and his
uncle Sage of Zhou (周公; zhou-gong) ruled as regent. The Sage of
Zhou was the one who stabilized Zhou rule by establishing and
formalizing etiquettes, rites, and rules for everything. He also
shared power and governed with a firm but benevolent hand, using
moral tenets of maintaining social harmony as the guiding light.
He extolled the ancient teachings of moderation.
The Sage of Zhou was the founding patrician father of the
vassal state of Lu (鲁) to the west of the Qi State, now a part of
Shandong. The Lu state was famous for education, and the greatest
teacher of all time, Confucius, was born in Lu.
Meanwhile, Wugeng, the son of Di Xin, joined an ill-fated
rebellion of the Zhou princes and was killed as a result. The old
Shang capital Yin was sacked and the people dispersed. Yin
became the Yin Ruins, or Yin’xu. Thereafter, the Sage of Zhou
sent Weizi (微子), the eldest brother of Di Xin, to the ancestral
Shang city of Shang’qiu ( 商丘 ; Shang mound, in He’nan
province), where he ruled as the Duke of the vassal state of Song
(宋; previously spelled Soong), keeping alive the royal lineage of
Shang under another name. The word Song shows the symbol of a
tree or wood under a roof (OB: ). It represents a form of
ancestral worship by which the lineal descendant places wooden
images or wooden plaques with the name and memorial title of the
ancestors in the home or village temple. Some Chinese and their
Asian neighbours to this day still carry on this tradition.
Weizi is the ancestor of many major Chinese clan names
including Song (宋; same as Soong of the Soong sisters, the three
sisters that influenced modern China), Meng (孟; of Mencius, the
successor of Confucius, and Meng Wanzhou, the CFO of Huawei),
Hua—meaning flower (花; of Hua Mulan, female warrior made
famous by Disney), and Hua—meaning China (华; of Hua Tuo, the
most famous herbalist and surgeon in ancient China, and Hua

Chunying, the spokeswoman of the Chinese government).
Now we know some of the names under which the Shang royal
lineage and their branches have been hiding. But that’s not all.
Weizi’s younger brother Weizhong (微仲) succeeded him as the
second Duke of Song. Not many people know that Confucius is the
fifteenth generation direct descendant of Weizhong.
Two thousand and five hundred years of unconquered Chinese
culture stands on the unshakable foundation of a Shang royal
descendant. Is this a coincidence? Confucius also has an unbroken
lineage extending to the present day. If one wonders where to find
a royal Shang descendant today, look no further than Confucius’s
Kong clan (孔; means good; notice the son radical which is the
name of the Shang royal line; OB: ).
David and Victoria had escaped from the battlefield of Mu’ye
to arrive at a straw hut in the remote mountains. Meanwhile, five
hundred years had elapsed in the blink of an eye.
“Let us pay a visit to the baby Confucius,” David said, “who
carries the blood of royal Shang in his veins and who’ll be China’s
greatest teacher. He was born in this little hut a few days ago.”
“Why was a royal Shang descendant,” Victoria asked, “being
born in such a humble shed in the middle of nowhere?”
“Many great leaders are said to have been born under humble
circumstances. Jesus was a religious teacher from the royal house
of David, and He was born in a stable. Confucius’s fifth generation
ancestor was an aristocrat of royal blood of the Song state. He
went on exile to the Lu state because of internecine strife.
Confucius’s father is actually a renowned general for the Lu state.
“The poor fellow however has nine daughters but not a single
son. In Zhou’s patriarchal society, he needs a son to carry on his
lineage. His concubine gave him a son, but the boy has a deformed
foot. That won’t do. Confucius’s father is in his late sixties; girls
usually marry in their teens. No one would condone such a match.

Lucky for us, he found someone willing to have a child with him
out of wedlock. It must however be done far from the prying eyes
and wagging tongues of society. Confucius is basically a bastard,
like Jon Snow in the Game of Thrones.”
David and Victoria peeked inside the hut to see a young girl of
about eighteen years of age who had just finished breastfeeding.
She was putting the sleeping baby Confucius into his basket. An
old amah was preparing hot millet porridge. She turned around
towards David and Victoria, pointed at the baby and placed her
fingers on her mouth, gesturing for them to keep quiet.
The silver-haired father was ecstatic with the arrival of his son.
He was preparing a travel backpack. He planned to walk out of the
mountain to deliver the news to his wife and concubine. Now that
he had a healthy son, they must agree to let the baby’s mother into
the family. He rose and gently ushered David and Victoria out of
the hut where they could speak. Just at that moment, a baby deer
wandered into the vegetable patch at the front of the hut.
“Oh, look!” Victoria exclaimed, “Bambi is here to pay homage.
It’s so cute.”
The famously tall general bowed deeply at David and Victoria.
“My son and I are most grateful for the visitation of Your
Graces,” he said. “You have brought the propitious omen of the
heavenly fawn, the prophesied sprite of the virgin forest. This is a
priceless gift my humble son will treasure for the rest of his life.”
Legend said that the Chinese unicorn Qilin (麒麟; anglicized as
Kirin) appeared at the birth of Confucius. In the unicorn’s mouth
was a jade piece, and carved on the jade was the oracle about the
arrival of a king, one without a throne or a kingdom.
When word got around that a baby of Shang royal blood had a
jade piece with a prophecy, the Guardian of the Oracle thought that
he was the one, but it turned out to be a false alarm. The Shang boy
would be important in other ways.
Confucius and his mother would move into the Kong family
manor. But when Confucius was three years old, his father passed
away. Shortly thereafter, the Kong matriarch kicked Confucius and
his mother out of the Kong household. Confucius grew up under
difficult circumstances. His mother died when he was sixteen. The
secret Shang clans took him in and groomed him. In the end,
Confucius became the cornerstone of Chinese culture. By his
teaching, Chinese culture becomes unconquered. It was the work
of the secret Shang clans.
Outside of the Song state and the Shang aristocracy, the
ordinary Shang subjects saw their fortunes take a precipitous dive.
The Zhou dispersed them into a diaspora and banned them from
working as scholars, court officials, soldiers, peasants, or
craftsmen. The only means by which they could have a livelihood
was to engage in the lowliest profession known as trading, a
despised line of work originally invented by the ancient Shang.
Can one imagine a lower social status than peasants? That was to
be called a Shang person—a merchant-trader.
One of the most famous and historically significant Shang
merchant-trader was a person by the name of Lü Buwei (吕不韦).
While Lü Buwei is famous in history as the most powerful official
of the Qin State, who paved the way for Qin to conquer all the
warring states and form the first unified Chinese empire, most
people don’t realize that Lü was a Shang descendant born in
Pu’yang (濮阳), also known as Di’qiu (帝丘), the burial mound of
the mythical Di Ku (帝喾), father of Shang tribe’s founder Xie
(契). The clan name Lü came from a Shang fief of the same name.
David and Victoria were transported to a rich man’s home at
Han’dan (邯郸), capital of the Zhao state (赵) in modern Hebei (河
北; river north). An exotic girl dressed in diaphanous gauze and
wielding two feather fans was dancing for her master and his guest.
Musicians playing pan flutes, a seven-string harp (古琴; gu-qin,
ancient harp), stone chimes, bronze drums, and rows of bronze
bells made Elysian music for the Terpsichorean dancer.
The guest was a young man in his late teens, well dressed in
rich brocade robes of silk samite, with a pendant of three huang
jade pieces hanging from his waist sash. He was an aristocrat
attended by several officials. His wealthy host was about ten years
older and equally well dressed. The endless stream of servants
ensured the alcohol kept flowing and the sweetmeats kept filling
the vessels of the distinguished guest. But the young aristocrat
wasn’t interested in food or wine. He was utterly mesmerized by
the lovely dancer, drinking up every drop of her surpassing beauty
and ethereal grace with his love-struck eyes.
“This guy’s a real creep,” Victoria said with disgust. “He’s
drooling all over the dancer.”
“That gleam in his eye,” David said, “will turn out to be a
world conqueror. This love-struck young man will be the father of
the first emperor of unified China, Qin Shihuang (秦始皇). Right
now, he is a low status prince of the Qin State, living in Han’dan as
a hostage, largely forgotten by his own father, the Lord of Qin, and
living under the Damoclean sword of instantly losing his head if
his father ever invades Zhao. His host today is the wealthy
merchant Lü Buwei. The dancer is actually Lü’s concubine.”
“Is the prince trying to steal Lü’s concubine right under his
nose? People can be so crazy.”
“And crazier still,” David said, “Lü decides to indulge him.”
“This sounds too much like a legend.”
“What we’re witnessing here,” David said, “is very much
based on fact. During the era of the Warring States, being a Shang
trader meant that one had no social status. But the constant wars
also meant that traders were important, and being a supplier for the
Military Industrial Complex meant even lowly Shang traders could

get filthy rich. Having accumulated wealth, Lü wanted power and
status. When he met the young luckless Qin prince, he decided to
invest his wealth in his new friend and make him the Lord of Qin.
Lü Buwei gave us the most famous Chinese motto for business,
‘always accumulate rare goods.’
“Lü considered the Qin prince rare goods. If his concubine was
the price, he’d gladly pay it. The prince would be eternally grateful
for this generous act. The problem is there were more than twenty
other princely contenders in Qin. Lü applied not just money but
guile to smuggle the young prince back to Qin, insinuated him into
a familial and political alliance with the Qin Lord’s favourite wife,
who convinced the Lord to make his long forgotten son the crown
prince. The Qin prince and his dancer wife would give birth to Qin
Shihuang. The rest, as the saying goes, is history.
“As the Chancellor of the Qin State and later also Regent of the
young Qin Shihuang, Lü Buwei wielding unrivalled power would
implement many policies and won many battles that paved the way
for the unification of China. Without this secret Shang descendant
Lü Buwei’s intervention, China might never have become a unified
country using a unified language to form a unified culture. China
would be like Europe.”
Chapter 32
Wormwood
I t was dark by the time David and Victoria arrived at

Truffle Pigs. After being seated and having ordered
drinks, David and Victoria continued where they left off.
“David, so far, I have learned that I’m involved with a Shang
oracle,” Victoria said, “but how did my adoptive parents get
involved? They never told me anything about their background.
All I know is they came from the Ukraine.”
“Michael and Angela answered an ad,” David replied. “They
were both dying in the Ukraine. I got them into Canada and paid
for their medical treatment. In return they looked after you and
protected you.”
“No wonder they said that I was the reason they were alive.
Why were they both dying?”
“They’re victims of the Chernobyl disaster, a nuclear accident
which contaminated a large area with radioactivity. Michael and
Angela lost everyone in their immediate families, and they were
diagnosed with cancer as well. The arrangement gave them a
chance to start a new life, get good medical care, and since they
couldn’t have children, the adoption was just what they needed.
While they’re secretly doing a job, they loved you like you were
their own flesh and blood.”
“I know, and I miss them,” Victoria said with tears welling up
in her eyes. “I wish they could be with us now. But as I was
growing up, I never had any idea that they were sick. They always
seemed perfectly healthy to me.”
“That’s another mystery we don’t have an answer to,” David
said. “While their Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma was treatable, their
oncologist thought that it’d be a long battle. No one contemplated
the possibility of your parents being cured. The doctor promised to
do her best to keep them alive for as long as possible.
“Everyone was therefore flabbergasted when we learned that
both Michael and Angela’s cancer went into remission, so that by
the time you started school, they were completely clean. It was
miraculous to say the least. The oncologist couldn’t work out the
odds of that happening naturally. All she could say to Michael and
Angela was thank God and thank their lucky stars.”
“Now that you mention it,” Victoria said, “I think it’s kinda
strange that my parents and I seemed to be so healthy that we
never even caught a cold.”
“We all noticed that,” David said, “and I have a feeling that
you may be the reason behind it.”
David and Victoria stopped talking when their drinks arrived.
Victoria became pensive as she thought about the extraordinary
events that she had experienced and the strange tales that David
was telling her. She had so many questions but no answers. She
was still skeptical … she would test David’s theory later.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Victoria said, “I had no idea
you even existed. What if I didn’t find the note? Our paths may
never cross.”
“Well, I want to make it hard for the Watchers,” David said.
“Even so, they still succeeded. If you hadn’t found me, I would’ve
found you. I called your home quite a few times. My trackers
missed you by seconds. By the time you got on the bus to Toronto,
I already knew where you were. I’ve also left clues designed for
you to find me.
Wormwood 173
“When your parents arrived at Canada, I changed their names

to Michael and Angela Solana. I named you Victoria Solana
because you were born on the winter solstice, which was the feast
day of the Roman sun god Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun. My
company Solvicta Antiquities is based on the same name.”
“Actually, when I read my parent’s note,” Victoria said, “I
already noticed the connection between my name and your
company. After that, I started looking for clues.”
“You’ve been to my private office,” David said. “You may
have guessed why it’s room 929.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure. I saw Caravaggio’s painting
in the first office. I just wrote an essay on that painting, so I know
that his name is Michelangelo, which is sort of like combining
Michael and Angela. Well, Michelangelo means the Archangel
Michael, whose feast day Michaelmas is on September 29,
Caravaggio’s birthday. I’m guessing room 929 is September 29,
which is the connection to Caravaggio, whose name is
Michelangelo, and which connects to Michael and Angela, and
hence to me. Am I right to assume all these are not coincidences?”
“There are no accidents,” said David. He then whispered with
his hand covering his mouth, “A man at nine o’clock is staring at
us. Stay alert but don’t turn your head.”
Victoria looked askance and got a big shock. She could see a
glass eye staring at her in the shadow of a dark corner. It was the
creepiest feeling to be stalked by a homeless Toronto man with a
glass eye. He was wrapped in the same oversized coat. Victoria
noticed that David’s face had turned ashen white. Two men in
black overcoats had just walked in. One of them was carrying a
briefcase. David and Victoria must run for their lives.
“Stay calm,” David said with a quavering voice. “Wait for
them to get seated. Then get up and walk slowly out of the front.
The Bozeman will be there, just get in and go. Don’t get caught.”
“But what about you?”

“Moira knows how to get me,” David said. “Go now.”
Victoria was glad to see Moira and the EP11 waiting outside
with the car door opened. The moment she sat down, the car
screeched towards the backdoor from which David had jaculated in
a mad dash. The two men in black were scrambling after him,
trying to get through the door at the same time. Victoria could see
the one-eyed man rushing out behind her as well. How did these
people track them down at Truffle Pigs? How did the glass eye guy
get there even before they did? Who were these people?
“Moira, armed the Bozeman,” David ordered as he hopped into
the future vehicle. “Aim the EM phaser at the car park and fire.”
A loud humming noise issued from the EP11. The lights at the
parking area promptly went dark. The front panel of the parked
cars started spewing sparks and smoke. The lights in Truffle Pigs
dimmed and flashed trying desperately to stay alive. The men in
black were running to their SUV but stopped in their tracks. Sparks
were shooting out of the briefcase.
“Damnation,” Vincent cussed, smoke coming out of his mouth
and ears. “We need spare parts.”
The one-eyed man stood in the shadows watching David and
Victoria escape. Sparks and smoke were coming out of his fake
eye, but as if by magic, the eye repaired itself.
The EP11 sped through the Rockies in the dark. They stopped
at Kamloops where a man in the shadows gave David a package
containing the passport and Chinese ID card for Victor So. After
arriving at Vancouver, David and Victor boarded a container ship
leaving port before New Year’s Eve. The EP11 went on board as
well. They’re finally on their way to China.
Chapter 33
Rise of the Peasant
he container ship would take more than two weeks to

T cross the Pacific. Its destination was Ningbo-Zhou’shan
(宁波/舟山), south of Shanghai across the Hangzhou
Bay. It’s one of the busiest ports in the world.
During the trans-Pacific trip, Victoria tried a few experiments
that confirmed her self-healing power. It was something she
always had but only came into full bloom since her recent
traumatic experiences. It explained why she never got sick, how
she miraculously survived the car crash, and why she didn’t react
to the Fentanyl Raja put in her drink. Victoria didn’t know the full
scope of latent powers that she had inherited. Some day she would
discover them and learn how those powers came about.
To make full use of the relative calm, David and Victoria
visited more places in the VR kingdom. Victoria wanted to
understand the work of the secret Shang clans, their oracle about
her, and how she was related to them.
“What happened to the Book of Secrets,” Victoria asked. “Did
your clan ever get it back?”
“My clan as the Guardian of the Oracle,” David replied,
“tracked the book to Shandong. At the fall of the Qi State, the last
before the unification under Qin, we regained possession of the
book. That person was our famous ancestor, Sage Yellow Stone,
after whom my father was named. The Sage however passed the
book to someone who would change China’s destiny.”
“Why did he do that?”

“We needed a world where the Shang clans could function,
even if in secret. Let’s go find out.”
David and Victoria found themselves beside a road about two
miles from a town. Two men were hiding behind a rock. One of
them was a huge man who looked like the Rock Dwayne Johnson.
He held a large hammer in his hand. It was supposed to weight a
hundred and sixty pounds or about seventy-five kilograms. The
other fellow was less athletically built but had a sword in his hand.
Victoria was nonplussed.
“Bandits?” she asked.
“More like idiots. This is actually one of the first assassination
attempts on Qin Shihuang after unification. In a short while, the
Emperor’s procession will pass through here. The man with the
hammer is a hired assassin. The man with the sword is obsessed
with revenge. His name is Zhang Liang (张良). Like Lü Buwei, he
is also a Shang descendant. He was born near modern Zheng’zhou
(郑州), where the early Shang had built a walled city.
“This remarkably well laid road here is a standardized Qin road.
The Qin Empire unified many standards for all of China, such as
for roads, carriages, weights, and currency. But the most important
standard is the written language. The Chinese pictogram writing
from Shang happens to be particularly useful for communications
between different tribes speaking different languages inside a huge
empire. Notice how Japan today, and in the past Korea and
Vietnam, have all used Chinese characters. If there’s to be an inter-
galactic written language, it may very well be based on pictograms.
The Qin Empire lasted only fifteen years, but its influence in the
idea of a unified China cannot be underestimated.”
Squadrons of black cloaked imperial guards on horseback
cleared the road of traffic way ahead of the royal procession. Qin
Shihuang was on his third tour around the country to learn about
Rise of the Peasant 177
this vast land he had just conquered two years ago. He understood
the resentment of the people who were loyal to the various states
he had destroyed. After all, Qin was always considered an
uncivilized and peripheral state at the extreme west of civilized
China. The central states had always spoken disparagingly of Qin,
until their armies crumbled under Qin steel.
Qin Shihuang didn’t become the emperor of all China by being
an imbecile. He made sure security measures were tight, and no
common Black Heads (黔首; qian-shou, common people) were
allowed to be anywhere near the main road.
Zhang Liang and the muscle man peeked over their hiding
place to see a long line of carriages approaching. When the
emperor toured the country, he was supposed to be accompanied
by thirty-six black carriages each drawn by four black horses.
Thousands of guards dressed in black and hoisting black flags
would march on either side of the road. The Qin favoured black.
The procession was like a parade of death.
The royal carriage would be drawn by six ebony horses. That
was the easy target for the hammer wielder. Unfortunately for the
assassins, they found no six-horse carriage that day. The emperor
was in one of the thirty-six unmarked carriages. He had outsmarted
the assassins.
Nevertheless, Zhang Liang and the Chinese Thor destroyed a
hapless carriage with the hammer and fled before the guards knew
what happened. Qin soldiers never caught them.
“They failed,” Victoria said. “They didn’t change history.”
“Patience, my dear,” David said. “History basically says that
some crazy guy risked the lives of everyone in his whole family
maybe even the whole town to single-handedly try to assassinate
the most powerful man on earth. In addition, he did that because he
was resentful that he had lost the cushy government job he was
supposed to inherit. But then the same person would miraculously
become a genius who helped establish the Han Empire. If you’ve

learned to be critical and refuse to swallow whatever they feed you,
would you think there’s a disconnect here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he got smarter with age?”
“Well maybe, but history goes on to say that while in hiding,
Zhang Liang met a mysterious old man, Sage Yellow Stone, who
gave him the book that would turn him into the greatest genius of
all time—zero to hero just like that.”
“It does sound a bit fishy.”
“Because it is a fish story,” David said. “There are no accidents.
The Book of Secrets had been passed on to Zhang Liang because
he was a Shang descendant. He was instructed to help create a
world where the Shang under another name can be a part of. That
name is Han. It wasn’t by accident that Confucianism became
almost like state religion during the Han dynasty.
“The assassination attempt was merely a demonstration of
courage and cleverness. No one expected a solitary commoner to
be able to kill Emperor Qin Shihuang. Before the unification, the
famous assassin Jing Ke (荆轲) had tried with a lot of help, He
ended up standing right next to Qin Shihuang with a dagger in his
hand, but he still failed. So what do you think about this story of
the assassination attempt of the emperor by a commoner?”
“Poppycock,” Victoria said.
“That’s exactly right. Zhang Liang did all that so he would
receive the Book of Secrets. He would help the peasant rebel Liu
Bang (刘邦) reunite China. Without Shang intervention, the odds
against Liu Bang succeeding would be astronomical. After all, Liu
Bang was a ne’er-do-well son of a peasant. He had no family
connections, he was uneducated, and he was known to be an
uncouth boor. Furthermore, he had no money, no martial training,
and he only turned rebel because he couldn’t fulfil his government
contract, which under Qin’s rule of law meant death.”
“Why help the idiot?” Victoria asked. “Why not let Zhang
Liang revive the Shang dynasty?”
“It’d been over eight hundred years since the fall of Shang,”
David said. “Even the State of Song had fallen for over sixty years.
Lü Buwei ended up committing suicide. The secret Shang clans
decided that in order to survive, we must disguise our identity, bide
our time, and wield our power judiciously.
“We decided to back Liu Bang for many reasons. He was not
what he seemed to be. Most importantly, by making a peasant the
emperor, we lifted the veil of lies that says only aristocrats,
warriors, religious leaders, and educated landowners can be king.
The peasants have for too long provided the food and supplied
their children to the armies that fight the endless wars, and they’ve
toiled tirelessly in the labour gangs that build the palaces, the
canals, and the great walls, while all the wealth and glory goes to
the liars, plunderers, and murderers. With one stroke, the peasants
learn the valuable lesson that they do have power. The Shang clans
created equipoise for China.”
“Your clans backed the right man,” Victoria remarked. “For an
uneducated peasant, Liu Bang must’ve been a pretty good emperor.
Why else would the Chinese people be called ethnic Han but not
Qin, Zhou, or Shang?”
“Liu Bang was the one who fought the war of unification,”
David said, “but he was not the one who made Han great. Hidden
from history and smeared by historians is Liu Bang’s commoner
wife, the first historically recorded empress of China, who became
the de facto ruler of the empire after Liu Bang died. She was the
true reason why we backed Liu Bang.
“It was the empress who implemented monetary and land
reforms that gave Han the foundation to thrive and survive for over
four hundred years, giving its name to most of us who call
ourselves Chinese. The empress was responsible for the
unprecedented policy of granting free land to everyone, imposing a

flat tax of only one-fifteenth of the harvest; that’s 6.6 percent, later
halved to 3.3 percent, and for ten years, the peasants paid no taxes.
“The same male historians didn’t lack words to extol the
virtues of the future martial king Han Wudi (汉武帝), who waged
endless wars with the Xiong’nu (proto-Hun) and started Han’s
inexorable fall from grace. Liu Bang’s extraordinary wife is known
as Empress Lü (吕后). Her family name is the same as that of Lü
Buwei, and her father was a mysterious man of means who had
moved to Liu Bang’s hometown. Does it surprise you that Shang
descendants had a hand in the affairs of Han?”
Victoria shook her head. Nothing surprised her any more.
“Let’s go on a mountain hike to learn how a son of Shang
helped a peasant become a great emperor,” David began to sing a
hiking song. “I love to go a wanderin’ along the mountain track,
and as I go I love to sing my knapsack on my back.”
David snapped his fingers and their setting changed to a
mountainous area. They were teetering precariously on narrow
wooden planks affixed to the stony crag of a steep gorge which cut
through the mountain like a deep scar. There were no roads and the
only way to traverse the area was along these vertiginous planks
hundreds of feet above the bottom of the gorge. Soldiers hoisting
red flags were negotiating carefully along the treacherous path.
Victoria held on to David. She could hardly bear to look down.
“Oh my God,” she cried, “I think I’m gonna wet my pants.
What’re we doin’ here?”
“Don’t worry, we’re safe,” David said. “We’re among Liu
Bang’s army. They’re on their way to Liu Bang’s new kingdom of
Han, basically a hellhole reserved for exiled criminals.”
“Isn’t Han the empire of China?”
“Not at first,” David explained. “Qin Shihuang, having
conquered China by brute force, relied on harsh laws to control the
population. In the tenth year of the Qin Empire, Mars aligned with
Antares of Scorpius, the Heart of the Dragon. It presaged great
turmoil. Sure enough, Qin Shihuang passed away the next year,
and the peasants began to rebel, soon joined by the deposed
aristocrats. In order to combine their efforts to overturn Qin, the
rebels made an agreement, which said that whoever took the
capital of the Qin Empire got to be the Lord of the old Qin state.
“While Xiang Yu (项羽), the grandson of a famous general of
the old southern state of Chu (楚), fought the decisive Battle of
Julu ( 巨鹿 ; giant deer), destroying the Qin army which
outnumbered his rebel army by fifteen to one, the crafty Liu Bang
avoided pitched battles and sieges, quickly arriving at the capital of
Qin and capturing it without opposition.”
“Isn’t that cheating?”
“Not exactly; you might say Liu Bang gamed the system. But
his wiliness created a political conundrum. Xiang Yu had won the
undisputed world heavyweight boxing title whereas Liu Bang won
dodge ball and bullied a sick child into submission. Who’s going to
call the shots? Liu Bang wasn’t getting into the ring against Xiang
Yu. He wouldn’t last ten seconds.
“Liu Bang saw through the bull and understood that ultimately
agreements are made to bind the weak, not the strong. What are
agreements if you don’t have the means to enforce them? He
respectfully submitted to Xiang Yu and accepted him as the
supreme hegemon.
“Xiang Yu ignored the agreement and sent Liu Bang to
Sichuan (四川; four rivers), which is the same as sending someone
to Australia in the early nineteenth century. Liu Bang wanted to
declare war on Xiang Yu for this insult. Fortunately, he heeded
Zhang Liang’s advice that he should gladly accept Sichuan, and in
addition ask Xiang Yu for Central Han (汉中; Han’zhong, east of
Sichuan) as well. It’s almost the same as after being exiled to
Australia, to specifically request to be stationed at the penal

hellhole of Newcastle. The idea was to convince Xiang Yu that Liu
Bang had no intention of leaving. Xiang Yu approved the request
and that was how Liu Bang became the Lord of Han.”
“That’s not very flattering.”
“Heck, no,” David said. “The word Han (Simp:汉, Trad:漢)
itself reflects that reality. Han with the water radical means the
Han River or the Han River basin. It was a remote mountainous
area west of the Central Plains of China. It was a hellhole where
criminals were sent to languish and die. The Oracle Bone script of
the word Han is the drawing of a man or animal being strung up
and burned as an offering to the gods (OB: ). The word with the
fire radical means heat (熯), and is related to drought (暵) with the
sun radical.
“Han isn’t a lucky name at all,” Victoria exclaimed. “If Liu
Bang was literate, he might’ve changed his title.”
“Possibly, but he didn’t win by luck. Zhang Liang gave Liu
Bang the strategy that would make him the one king to rule them
all. We’re witnessing here Liu Bang’s perilous journey into the
Central Han region, and … see what happens?”
Victoria realized that someone had lit a fire. Black smoke was
rising into the sky.
“Soldiers at the end of the line are setting the planks on fire,”
she exclaimed. “Are they nuts?”
“That’s the whole point of the exercise. By burning the
mountain path, Zhang Liang wants Xiang Yu to believe that Liu
Bang has no ambition to vie for power in the Central Plains of
China. It gives Xiang Yu a false sense of security.”
“Brilliant! But without the planks, Liu Bang’s army is actually
cut off from the rest of the world.”
“There’s actually a secret pass leading out of the mountains
towards the west. Within half a year, Liu Bang’s army would
retake the entire area originally promised to him. From there, he

would defeat Xiang Yu and become the one king to rule them all.
Liu Bang never gave up his title of the Lord of Han. When he
accepted the heavenly mandate and ascended the imperial throne,
his dynasty naturally became Han, and he became the founding
Emperor of Han.
“Now I’m not so sure I want to call myself Han anymore.”
“What’s in a name?” David said. “Han was just an undesirable
region in China. It’s of course very well developed nowadays. But
the name Han at first had no connotation of Chinese ethnicity at all.
Everything we know about Han comes from later development.”
Chapter 34
Girl Power
he Chinese classic Romance of the Three Kingdoms

T opens with this truism, “the fragmented world over time
will unite into one, and the one world over time will
fracture into many.” In the long and winding river of history,
China would become fractured many times, but the idea of a
unified China has taken root in the Chinese psyche. That seed was
planted by Shang descendants, and the children of the Shang
thrived under other names. They would be patient even in times of
great turmoil. At the right moment and when the right person came
along, the secret Shang clans would quietly intervene and the
fragmented China would be one again.
During the last years of Qin, a tribe known as the Xiong’nu
(Hun’nu, proto-Hun) became powerful in the north. The Han
Empire fought endless wars against the Xiong’nu and drove the
northern half of the group into Central Asia. This group later
migrated westward into Europe as the Huns and lorded over the
Germanic Goths and the Romans. The Southern Xiong’nu moved
south to live among the Han, intermarried, and became assimilated.
Life was a lot easier. The food was hot, the beds were soft, and the
women were pretty. Resistance was futile.
Before the Han dynasty fell apart in the third century CE, a
large complex barbarian tribe known as the Xianbei (鲜卑; Shanbe
in our story, the super-tribe created by Lone Wolf) moved south
into China from the northeast, eventually controlling all of
Girl Power 185
northern China under the rule of what Chinese historians called the
Northern Dynasties. Unbeknownst to Victoria who was enrapt in
the story of China, she was inextricably connected to the Xianbei.
“Actually, after the fall of Han,” David said, “and following
the end of the warlord era known as the Period of the Three
Kingdoms, northern China for more than three hundred years was
overrun by all of its neighbouring barbarian tribes.”
“What happened to mighty China?” Victoria asked.
“China when divided is easily conquered,” David said, “but
Chinese culture is unconquered, and it would always conquer the
barbarian conquerors, not by the sword, but by the word, and
sometimes with a little help from the secret Shang clans.
“An example of China’s cultural conquest would be the
Xianbei ruled Northern Dynasty Wei (北魏). One of their Xianbei
kings made laws banning the usage of their own language, forcing
their people to speak Chinese, adopt Chinese names, practice
Chinese customs, and intermarry with the Chinese. They wanted to
become Chinese. Eventually, Xianbei rule was usurped by the
short-lived Sui (隋) dynasty, which was succeeded by the glorious
Tang (唐) dynasty. Both Sui and Tang are Han dynasties.
“Tang was a very interesting and influential dynasty. Its capital
Chang’an (长安; long peace; modern Xi’an) was the greatest city
in the world at the time. Christians, Moslems, and Buddhists from
other parts of the world came to spread their religions and to trade
with China. Even today, the word Chinatown in Chinese language
is actually Tang Person Street (唐人街; tang-ren-jie).”
“So instead of Han,” Victoria remarked, “I’m actually a Tang
person?”
“What’s in a name?” David said. “Historians insist that the
Tang lineage is Han Chinese, but it’s not so simple. Let us check
out where the Tangs came from. The founding emperor of Tang
dynasty Tang Gaozu (唐高祖; High Ancestor of Tang), whose
mother was a Xianbei princess and whose father was probably a

Sinicized Xianbei, married a wife of predominantly Xianbei
lineage, making his son, the Emperor Tang Taizong (唐太宗;
Great Patrician Father of Tang) more Xianbei than Han-Chinese.
Tang Taizong’s queen was again Xianbei, making the next
emperor Tang Gaozong (唐高宗; High Patrician Father of Tang)
predominantly Xianbei. One can imagine there was a lot of
Xianbei influence in the presumably Han-Chinese Tang dynasty.
“The Xianbei’s Sinification wasn’t a one-way street. The
Xianbei also changed the northern Chinese. For example, it was
Xianbei custom for the woman to run the household. Northern
women were well educated and strong-willed, allowing them to
gain power and status in society. A good example of a northern
Chinese girl from the Xianbei period would be Hua Mulan (花木
兰 ; Flower Magnolia) made famous by Disney. She disguised
herself as a man to join the army on behalf of her father.”
“I don’t think Mulan is one’s idea of a typical Chinese girl,”
Victoria said.
“Female warriors are not typical, but Chinese history has a lot
of them,” David said, “and their stories are just as colourful as
Mulan’s. As for our Disney heroine, she was actually a Shang girl.
How do we know that? Mulan’s family name Hua (花) is the
Chinese word for flower. The ancestor of the Hua-Flower name is
Weizi—you remember him?—the first Duke of the Song State of
the royal Shang lineage.”
“Okay, you convinced me. The secret Shangs are everywhere.”
“We’re not done yet,” David said. “You do not know how Hua
Mulan’s name is connected to the word that means China.”
“I get a feeling you’re going to surprise me.”
“A lot of people would be surprised. Hua-flower and Hua-
elegance (Simp: 华 Trad: 華 ), both originated from the same
symbol—the flower bush (OB: ), Hua-elegance later becoming
Girl Power 187
the word that means China, or Hua-China. A Chinese person (华人

; hua-ren) is literally a flower person and figuratively an elegant
person. It is this hidden meaning of the word Hua-China that even
many Chinese may not be aware of. The ancestor of the Hua-China
name is also Weizi of royal Shang lineage.”
“According to you, Han is a god-forsaken hellhole, Tang is a
bunch of barbarians pretending to be Chinese, China is an elegant
flower, and there is a Shang behind every door. Do we live in the
same universe? I want to cry.”
“Didn’t I tell you everything you know is a lie?” David said.
“But save your tears. You’re going to meet the most powerful
woman in the world. You have valuable lessons to learn.”
David snapped his fingers and they were transported to a huge
square inside the gates of a grand palace. A group of young girls
were being ushered by royal handmaids and eunuchs to their living
quarters. Some of these girls looked miserable. Most of them had
been crying. While everyone walked with their eyes on the ground,
one girl stuck her head up and peeked at her surroundings. She
seemed to be the only one who was curious about the prison where
she would likely spend the rest of her life.
“Where are we?” Victoria asked.
“We’re inside the royal palace in the Tang capital Chang’an,”
David said. “These girls are newly selected concubines of Tang’s
greatest emperor Taizong. Most of them will never see the
emperor, who has more wives and concubines than he can shake a
stick at. He is also well known to be a workaholic. Besides, he is
forty-one years old. These girls are but twelve to fourteen. It’s
probably a life sentence for most of them.”
“It must be a horrifying experience. No wonder most of them
are crying.”
“Actually, this is the Tang dynasty. Most girls are married off
by the time they are fourteen. They’re only crying because they
have to leave their parents. In fact, from now on, their only job is
to attract the emperor’s attention, and hope to carry the emperor’s
child. Did you notice the girl that was peeking around? She’s the
concubine that will be king.”
“Wow! That sounds awesome. How does she do it?”
“As the story goes, twelve years pass by in the blink of an eye.
The emperor dies and the concubine is childless. That’s bad news.
By tradition, she’s supposed to spend the rest of her life in the
royal convent as a nun. If that happens, no one will ever hear of
her. Instead, Taizong’s ninth son, the next emperor known as Tang
Gaozong (唐高宗; High Patrician Father of Tang) catches sight of
his beautiful stepmother at the convent. Next thing you know, she
becomes the new emperor’s concubine.”
“This seems highly inappropriate,” Victoria said.
“Inappropriate perhaps to the conservative Chinese,” David
said, “but perfectly normal for the nomadic culture of the Xianbei.
The point is, most people would’ve given up in the concubine’s
situation, but she turned a funeral into a wedding, and got herself a
younger husband who was mesmerized by her charm. Tang
Gaozong eventually made his stepmother-concubine the queen
consort, replacing the original one. The new queen was so clever
that soon she was running the country. After the death of Tang
Gaozong, the queen established her own dynasty known as Second
Zhou (后周), and ruled over the empire as supreme ruler. Her
name is Empress Wu Zetian (武则天; martial-engrave-heaven), the
only female emperor of China.”
While many women had taken supreme power before, Empress
Wu did the unthinkable by officially establishing her own dynasty.
She proved that there’s nothing a girl cannot do if she puts her
mind to it. Her improbable rise was not by accident. Consider that
she had started a matriarchal dynasty named Zhou based on the
ancient Zhou dynasty which was originally a matriarchal tribe. Her
Girl Power 189
titular name has the word Tian (heaven, sky), which happens to be
the name of the supreme god of ancient Zhou. The founder of the
first Zhou dynasty is the Martial (武; wu) King of Zhou. His titular
name is the origin of the Wu family name.
The Wu clan migrated to He’nan province when the Zhou
moved its capital to the east. The Zhou royal branches weakened
after the move. In order to survive, the Wu clan mingled with the
Shang clans in He’nan and learned to trade, eventually making a
matrimonial alliance. Empress Wu’s father was a Shang merchant
whose family had migrated to Shanxi province (山西; mountain-
west), where the Shang clans thrived and later became powerful as
the Shanxi Merchants Cartel. An influential descendant of
Confucius by the name of H. H. Kung would emerge from Shanxi.
He married the eldest of the Soong sisters. But that’s another story.
Empress Wu’s journey began when her future father-in-law
and grandfather-in-law, Tang dynasty’s founder Gaozu, sojourned
at her home before he started the rebellion. Gaozu received a secret
book of power from Wu’s father. This is a story seldom told.
“Let’s check out the streets of Chang’an,” David said as he
snapped his fingers. “Prepare to feast your eyes on the greatest city
in the world and the gateway to the Silk Road.”
Victoria was gobsmacked by what she saw at seventh century
Chang’an. It was a planned city in the form of a huge square with
all roads going north-south and east-west. The wide boulevards
were crisscrossed by horses, carriages, and pedestrians. Small
platoons of soldiers patrolled the intersections to maintain order
and prevent crimes. Some officers on horseback had exotic facial
features. David explained that Turkic peoples lived in China and
many were in the Tang army. During Tang Gaozong’s reign,
Narsieh, the commander of the Imperial Guards, was a prince of
the Persian Sassanian dynasty.
Everyone wore colourful clothing. A lot of women wore
revealing dresses, some with deep cuts in the front, showing off
their chemise and décolletage. A few girls wore pants. Many
women rode horses. Young girls roamed the streets without
chaperones. A rich matriarch was taking a stroll followed by her
ladies in waiting and man servants. All the women had fancy
hairdos and a red flower design painted on their forehead.
Persian traders with their teams of purebred horses were trying
to get past the guards at the main city gate. Bactrian camel
caravans were making their way to the bazaar. A group of polo
players was riding to a tournament. A Buddhist monk with three
disciples and a skinny donkey just walked into the city. They
promptly headed towards one of the temples. Christian Nestorian
priests and delegations from Islamic countries were trickling in.
Someone had converted a house into a mosque with a minaret.
Inside a park, several kids were kicking a colourful football
known as a Cuju (蹴鞠), the original soccer ball. Others crowded
around a cricket fight. Some were running around with handheld
windmills known as whirligigs. Teenagers were flying fancy kites.
Some girls were catching butterflies with silk nets. Kibitzers
surrounded Go games and Chess games. A few ne’er-do-wells
were gambling with tiles and dice while a drunkard tried to sleep it
off with his canary in a cage hanging on a branch above him.
“I thought the English invented polo and soccer,” Victoria said.
“The world didn’t have IP laws then,” David said. “It took a bit
of time for new ideas to spread, but a lot of ancient ingenuity was
shared. Polo was invented in Persia and soccer in China.”
As David and Victoria approached the agora at the eastern
quarters, they began to see numerous booths and stalls hawking
everything from handcrafted candy to exotic spice. Little old ladies
were selling embroidered perfume pouches, baby shoes, and
handkerchiefs. A puppet-master was doing a silhouette show that
parodied a cruel and corrupt official. An artist was selling painted
Girl Power 191
fans. A blind man was playing a two-string fiddle (奚琴; xi-qin or

erhu). Street food stalls were selling lamb kebobs and naan
flatbread. Others sold noodles, snacks, and liquor, while sages
provided medical and fortune-telling services. It was a
kaleidoscope in motion. Victoria was speechless.
“This is pretty amazing, eh!” David said. “Considering Europe
is in the dark ages, it’s the Age of Enlightenment here in China.
Chinese women enjoy unprecedented status during this period.
There’s no foot binding. Girls receive an education. They’re
involved in the law and in literature. The empress herself is a poet.
Women control household finances and wield real power.”
David further explained that Tang girls were known to lead
armies into battle and serve as court officials. Some of Tang’s
liberated women worked as professional courtesans. They were
well educated and could speak intelligently on many subjects
among highly cultured and aristocratic clients. Many courtesans
were independently wealthy. Society didn’t shame girls for having
premarital relationships. Women readily divorced and remarried. It
wasn’t a secret that Empress Wu kept a stable of young studs for
pleasure. Except for the present day, early Tang and Second Zhou
were the best times in the history of China to be a woman.
Empress Wu wasn’t just a pretty face. She single-handedly
broke the glass ceiling. She was a very intelligent ruler who was
constantly being challenged. Many capable men served her
faithfully. Under Empress Wu, the empire was mostly peaceful and
prosperous. She died naturally of old age at eighty-two, a record
surpassed by only one other emperor in all of China’s history.
“But Empress Wu couldn’t change the patrilineal succession
scheme all by herself,” David said. “Her son succeeded her on the
throne and promptly changed the dynasty back to Tang. That’s the
amazing story of the lowly concubine who became the one and
only female emperor of China.”
Chapter 35
Stone Man With One Eye
he glorious Tang would eventually collapse. Human

T societies are far too complex for the human intellect to
manage. It’s an unsolvable n-body problem. F*ckups are
guaranteed. Humans are smart, no question about that, but we’re
also delusional, and we can’t see through our own hypocrisy and
lies to recognize this fundamental flaw. “Delusional ergo sum—I
am delusional, therefore I am.” We’re imperfect products of
Nature, or in more colourful language, we’re God’s royal f*ckups.
Nature may consider us a blight or even an abomination. If we
remain wilfully blind to our own Big Lie, Nature will dump us like
a turd and try something else. It has all the time in the universe;
Homo sapiens does not.
Tang dynasty ran out of time. The collapse happened gradually
over the years and then all at once. Peasant rebels, foreign invaders,
and Chinese warlords were in the thick of it, causing great
destruction and bloodshed. In the end, the Shang clans intervened
and restored calm to the Central Kingdom. A Chinese general of
secret Shang background took power by a bloodless coup d'état
and established the Song (宋) dynasty, taking its name from the
Song state, which was ruled by the Shang royal house.
Historians tried to make all kinds of lame explanations for why
Song Taizu (宋太祖; Great Ancestor of Song) decided upon the
dynastic name Song, without ever daring to contemplate the simple
truth. Song Taizu’s father was a Shang in plain sight. His name is
Stone Man With One Eye 193
Zhao Hongyin (赵弘殷), which means exalt Yin. Yin is the name
historians use to refer to Shang. Song Taizu’s father therefore has a
name that means exalt Shang. Who’d have a name like that if he’s
not a Shang?
With the secret Shang in a position of influence, it shouldn’t be
surprising to note that Confucianism enjoyed a significant reform
and a major resurgence during Song, especially during Southern
Song. This neo-Confucianism greatly influenced not only China,
but also Korea, Japan, and Vietnam.
Peace returned, and with it, trade. Until the present era, Song
dynasty had been a period of unsurpassed innovation and
economic growth. In fact, the world’s first banknote was invented
during the Song dynasty. It greatly facilitated long distance trade.
It was of course the work of the Shang merchant-traders.
Unfortunately, in the hands of unscrupulous one-percenters, the
tool became a means to plunder the wealth producers.
An iron tribe in the northeast smelled the alluring aroma of
untold wealth wafting over from the south. They’re the Khitans (契
丹; qi-dan), a descendant tribe of the Xianbei. The Khitans invaded
and ruled northern China for a couple of hundred years as the Liao
(辽) dynasty. The Russians thought they were Chinese and even
today call China Kitay, which the English anglicized into Cathay.
In time, the Khitans followed the footsteps of their Xianbei
ancestors and became Chinese. Next in line to rule north China
was the southern Siberian Jurchens who established the Jin (金;
gold) dynasty. The Mongolians under Kublai Khan, the grandson
of Genghis Khan, overthrew the Jurchen Jin and Southern Song.
They ruled all of China as the Yuan (元; head, beginning) dynasty.
“Seems like most of the time,” Victoria said, “China has been
ruled by foreign tribes.”
“That is certainly true in the north,” David said. “The Book of
Secrets, which was returned to us during the reign of Empress Wu
Zetian, went south to avoid being lost to the invaders. That was
where the book changed history.”
With a wave of his hand, David took Victoria to the plains of
the lower Yellow River in He’nan (river south) province. They
stood outside a village near a huge on-going construction project.
There were a hundred and fifty thousand men digging feverishly in
the heavy rain. Mongolian and Turkic soldiers with clubs and
whips supervised the Chinese slave labourers. These men were
digging a channel to divert the Yellow River.
Long-suffering sons of Chinese peasants … when they’re not
working as farmers to feed their brutal masters, they would be
pressed into slave gangs such as this one. If they didn’t starve to
death when their crops were destroyed by nature, they would be
swept away by the unpredictable Yellow River. The alternative of
toiling as slave labourers wasn’t much better. They could choose to
be whipped until their nerves were raw, or after they had expended
every ounce of their strength, earn the right to be kicked into the
ditch and released from this bitter burden of life.
“Very few of these sorry sacks of bones,” David said, “would
ever see their family again. But just for that remotest chance that
they could go home to die and be buried with their family, they
would keep on digging, suffering the indignity, the hunger, and the
lash in quiet desperation until it was their turn to expire.”
David and Victoria were wearing straw hats, straw raincoats,
and straw sandals to ward off the rain. Water was however seeping
through to mix with the tears in Victoria’s eyes. While the massive
humanity moved in rhythmic dissonance, every so often, a soldier
would inject a shrill note by kicking a slave-labourer into the ditch.
Victoria couldn’t help but feel sorry for the diggers; even though
she knew that they’re only images in her head.
“I s’pose this is the reality we don’t usually get to see,”
Victoria remarked in a sombre tone.
“Yes, just as we eat meat,” David said, “but we don’t know

what goes on in the slaughterhouse. Most of us forget that our
opulent modern society is built on top of the bones of the
defenceless. This is the year 1351. The Mongols have ruled China
for eighty years. It’s not always terrible like this. But their
oppressive rule of the Han peasants is not going to end well.
“A few years ago, there was a prolonged drought followed by a
locust swarm, causing widespread famine. As if that wasn’t
enough, the plague struck those still alive and spared no one.
Chinese peasants were dropping like flies but the emperor in
Beijing (called Khanbaliq by the Mongols) didn’t care.”
“Where were the Shang clans when we needed them?”
“The Shang clans were waiting for the Bearer of the Oracle to
show up. They thought that surely this was the end of days. Whole
villages were depopulated overnight. People were so shocked that
they forgot how to weep. They just sat there in a catatonic state,
waiting stoically for their time to sleep … to die … to end the
heartaches and the thousand natural shocks of life. It’s too cursèd
much even for the meek. Do you want to see what it’s like?”
“No thanks,” said Victoria, almost bursting into tears. “My
heart can’t take any more of this. I think I’ll just watch the misery
unfold here.”
“The Shang clans finally intervened,” David said. “What
happens here will change the history of China, but it all started
twenty-three years ago. In a farming village in the south, a boy was
born to a destitute landless peasant, the lowest of the low. The
baby was feverish. It didn’t seem like he would survive. What
should they do with this sickly child? The father decided to seek
the advice of the head monk at the local Buddhist temple.
“The venerable monk suggested that the peasant should pledge
the baby boy to the temple, in order that the Buddha would take
pity on him. Miraculously, the baby survived after the pledge. His
name is Zhu Yuanzhang (朱元璋), the beggar monk who would be

king, and he would one day become Emperor Ming Taizu (明太祖;
Great Ancestor of Ming). When Taizu reached the age of sixteen,
famine and plague struck again. Everyone in his family died. He
became a mendicant monk, walking out into the world by himself,
begging for food wherever he went.”
“A sixteen year old orphan who didn’t give up,” Victoria
exclaimed, “and eventually became the emperor of China. I think
I’ll have to learn how to beat the odds from him.”
“And beat the odds he did. For three years he travelled across
the country on foot. He saw the world; he learned about the people
and their plight; and he saw through the Big Lie. When he was in
He’nan province, the home of the secret Shang clans, he heard
little kids singing a street rap, ‘stone man with one eye; disturb the
Yellow River and rebels will arise.’
“No one knew the origin of the song. No one knew what the
stone man with one eye meant. This song was so popular that even
the Mongol emperor heard about it, but he thought nothing of it,
and he ordered the diversion of the Yellow River. Here at the
village of Yellow Mound Hill (黄陵岗: huang-ling-gang) is where
the fall of the Mongolian Empire begins.”
A commotion rose among the workers digging near the village.
Those in the vicinity stopped to find out what the ruckus was all
about. The whips and the clubs started raining down on the
workers. Some of the labourers ran towards the village. Victoria
and David also hurried in the direction of the uproar.
Someone had dug up a stone statue. People were shouting, “It’s
the stone man with one eye.”
“Get back to work,” a soldier nearby ordered menacingly with
a loud crack of the whip.
The peasants were accustomed to being obedient, and they
picked up their shovels to resume digging.
Then someone shouted, “Disturb the Yellow River and rebels

will arise.”
The peasants stopped digging. They looked at each other and
they looked at their shovels. The peasants were so used to being
slaves they didn’t realize that they had the power all along.
All their lives, the peasants cursed God for making them
peasants. They cursed their parents for giving them this life of
slavery and suffering. They cursed the emperor for never caring.
They also cursed the gentries and their militia for acting as the
Mongol’s attack dogs. But they forgot that they could do
something about it if they wanted to. It was as if they had suddenly
awakened from their stupor and realized that they had been living
in the cesspool of the Big Lie. They should blame no one. Rev.
Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “A man can't ride your back
unless it's bent.” It applies to anyone, anywhere, anytime.
The soldier was about to beat the nearest guy with his club
when someone crushed his skull with a shovel and shoved his
lifeless corpse into the ditch. The uprising spread like wild fire
from one end of the slave gang to the other. Even the rain couldn’t
dampen the peasants’ fervour to slaughter their oppressors. The
soldiers that didn’t escape were torn limb from limb. The attack
dogs got their comeuppance. They’re always the first to die.
“This is the perfect place to start a rebellion,” David said, while
Victoria cringed from the gory violence. “Where else can you find
a hundred and fifty thousand men who are ready, willing, and able
to join you for the fight of your life? All they need now is a good
leader.”
The prophecy of the “stone man with one eye” came true.
Rebellions immediately engulfed the country. The beggar monk
Zhu Yuanzhang, the future Ming Taizu, joined a rebellion group
known as the Red Army. The rebels wore a red bandanna. It was a
branch of the group that had its roots at the Yellow Mound Hill.
Taizu excelled and quickly rose to the top. The rebel leader
gave his adopted daughter to Taizu as wife, cementing Taizu’s
leadership position. The future queen of Ming was also an orphan.
Her ancestors came from Shang’qiu, the founding capital of Shang
and the capital of the Song State. She was a big reason for Taizu’s
success. She was the popular and well beloved Queen Ma (马;
horse). Her Ma lineage would one day produce sons to lead two of
the largest companies in modern China, Alibaba and Tencent.
Taizu soon branched out and formed his own group of rebels.
In order to become the one king to rule them all, Taizu needed help,
and he got it from Liu Ji (刘基).
History tries to paint the picture of Liu Ji as a godsend genius
who descended from heaven to help Taizu. In reality, Liu Ji did
fairly well at the national exam, worked for the Yuan dynasty, but
failed miserably as a low level official. When Liu Ji was appointed
by the Mongolian Yuan government to suppress rebellions, he quit
his job because he thought the Mongols weren’t tough enough on
the Chinese rebels. At least, that was his excuse. Liu Ji was
unemployed for years, tending the fields at his hometown and
hiking in the mountains. Anyone with such a dismal record today
would be called a bloody failure.
Liu Ji’s luck changed when he befriended a hermit in the
mountains. That hermit was a Guardian of the Oracle protecting
the Book of Secrets. His name is Huang Chuwang (黄楚望), and
he’s in David’s family records. When Liu Ji walked out of the
mountains, he became one of the greatest strategists of all time,
equal among peers with the likes of Zhang Liang and the Great
Sage Jiang. Just like that, someone went from zero to hero, and
China was saved. In Liu Ji’s possession was a mysterious book.
At the time, Taizu occupied Nanjing (南京; south capital) but
was threatened on all sides by his adversaries. Two large rebel
armies were on the march to attack Nanjing from the east and the
west simultaneously. Taizu didn’t have enough soldiers to defend

one front, let alone two. His commanders were at a loss as to how
they could avert this disaster. The best suggestion was to retreat
into the countryside and save the army to fight another day.
Fortunately for Taizu, that was when Liu Ji showed up. Liu’s
ploy in one stroke defeated Taizu’s greatest enemies, and at the
same time gave Taizu the firm foundation to build his empire.
Following Liu Ji’s advice, Taizu shrank his defences and shortened
his interior lines of communication. This lured the stronger enemy
from the west to advance too rapidly into a trap. Taizu suddenly
withdrew all of his eastern defences to concentrate at the western
front, routing his western foe with a decisive and lethal strike, just
like the deadly sting of the scorpion’s tail. On the news of Taizu’s
stunning victory, his eastern foe immediately made a volte-face,
only to be destroyed piece-meal on a later day.
Seven years after this great victory, Mars entered into
conjunction with the Heart star of the Dragon constellation, which
is the Shang Star or Big Fire in ancient China. This presaged great
turmoil. It turned out to be trouble for the Mongolian Yuan dynasty.
Taizu took Beijing without firing a blunderbuss when the Yuan
emperor with no clothes decamped from his capital. A year later,
the once mendicant beggar monk founded the Ming (明; bright)
dynasty, and he became Emperor Ming Taizu, titular name Hong
Wu (洪武; great martial). China was one again.
To repay the Shang for their help, Taizu expanded the
Confucian manor, temple, and burial grounds for the Kong clan of
Confucius at Qufu (曲阜; hometown of Confucius in Shandong).
From this base the ancient Shang lineage would continue to
influence China’s destiny. Today, the combined Confucian
property is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Chapter 36
The Long March
avid helped Victoria navigate across a network of muddy
D trenches and slimy bolgias. All the desperate soldiers in

the infernal pits were waiting with bated breath for
heaven to descend. And when the clock struck on the eleventh hour
of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the end finally arrived
for the war to end all wars.
“Are there some significance with all these elevens?” Victoria
asked. “Why not all eights, or maybe all nines?”
“Eleven is a mystery number in our Book of Secrets,” David
replied. “It’s a sign that the secret Shang clans may have had a
hand in a historical event.”
“They were involved in World War I?” Victoria exclaimed
incredulously.
“Why not?” David said. “The world has been getting smaller.
There are Chinese people all over the world. I’m a Guardian of the
Oracle living in Canada. Globalization is connecting distant
nations and civilizations by technologies and trade routes. There
are Chinese who don’t look Chinese, Hans who’re not Han, and
the secret Shang under other names. Globalization makes the world
smaller and our reach farther.”
“A lot of millennials and workers don’t like globalization,”
Victoria said. ”Global trade is taking their jobs overseas. Then
they’ll have to compete with immigrants and automation for
what’s left. Ordinary people are having a tough time surviving.”
The Long March 201
“That’s because globalization doesn’t work well with the Big

Lie,” David said. “Globalization and trade should benefit everyone,
not just the corporations, the money-changers, and the illusionists.
This is the same with new technologies. The Big Lie has always
used technology advancement to increase its own power and to
plunder the true wealth producers.
“Why are workers afraid of globalization and AI stealing their
jobs? They are afraid because they’re hopelessly brainwashed by
the Big Lie, which justifies enriching the rich with grants,
government contracts, war chests, tax breaks, QEs, and bailouts
while taxing the poor with tariffs and saddling them with the rich
man’s debt. In a world where everyone’s basic needs are taken care
of, people will embrace globalization and AI.
“What’s most terrible is that, not only is the Big Lie stupefying
the people to accept gross injustice and enslaving them with fear,
they’re using AI in war. AI is our genius offspring. They learn
from us. When we ask AI to help us with our daily chores, it does
them much better than we ever can. Look at Moira. But if we teach
AI to be liars and mass murderers, they’ll surpass humans in the
blink of an eye, and that’s an existential struggle we won’t win.
When the Big Lie starts this egregious act of using AI for war,
everyone else has no choice but to follow suit. The Big Lie will
cause human extinction if we don’t wake up from our stupor.”
“The apocalypse can come in so many ways,” Victoria
remarked darkly. “I hope I don’t get to see any of this.”
“We are responsible, especially for those of us who call
ourselves free and democratic. It’s no use blaming others when the
end comes. We have met the enemy and he is us.”
A mud covered soldier rushed over and hugged David, even
kissing him on the lips. It was Moira. David, wiping the muck off
his face and lips, complained, “What the…”
“Peace on earth and goodwill to humanity,” Moira declared

playfully. “Just giving you guys the two-minute warning. We’re
nearing port. You have time for one last trip and then you’ll have
to come out.”
“Let us continue with the story of China,” David said. “We’ve
skipped how the Ming became the Qing. It was another peasant
rebellion. The mob actually took Beijing. The Ming emperor
hanged himself. The Ming general guarding the Great Wall let in
the Manchurians. China suffered another self-inflicted wound, but
China became bigger and stronger by conquering its conqueror.
We’re here in Europe to learn how the end of World War I led to
the birth of a new China.”
In short, the fall of the Qing dynasty and the establishment of
the Republic of China (ROC) in 1912 brought a ray of new hope.
But China was promptly Balkanized by warlords and carved up by
foreign colonial powers. The ROC founded by American educated
Dr. Sun Yat-sen and based on the American model sought support
from the West in vain. The Western powers gravitated towards the
warlords instead. It was more lucrative to sell arms to the warlords
and gain their loyalty than to win the simple hearts of the long-
suffering peasants. To the Western powers, it was easier to profit
from China if its people were divided, ignorant, and weak.
China as an ally of the victors of World War I had sent a
hundred and fifty thousand labourers to the battlefields in Europe,
originally billed as civilian contract workers at high pay. The
illiterate fools were no better than indentured slaves. Ten thousand
Chinese men gave their lives for the big whopper, their forlorn
spirits forever wandering the poppy fields of France and Flanders.
David snapped his fingers and the setting changed from the
miserable trenches to the resplendent Versailles Palace. Dignitaries
and delegates were milling about waiting to enter the aptly named
Hall of Mirrors where the Peace Conference was being held.
The Long March 203
Among the mostly Western diplomats were a curious group of

Chinese men dressed in top hats and tails. They’re a new breed of
Chinese who were educated in the West and who were trying their
level best to have that Western look with their Western attire and
their Western moustaches.
“That guy with the big moustache and a goatee,” David said,
“is the leader of the Chinese delegate from Beijing. His name is Lu
Zhengxiang (陆征祥). When asked later about the Versailles fiasco,
Lu succinctly said, ‘There is no diplomacy for weak nations.’
“The handsome young man beside Lu is Wellington Koo (顾维
钧),” David continued. “He’s an illustrious and well known career
diplomat. The third Chinese gentleman with a big mustache is
Wang Zhichang ( 王治昌 ). He’s a distinguished diplomat, a
minister, and an educator. He’s the father of Wang Guangmei (王
光美), who years later would become the wife of Liu Shaoqi (刘少
奇 ), president of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), the
number two person in China after Chairman Mao.”
During the Cultural Revolution, the Red Guards attacked Liu
Shaoqi, who died in prison. Wang Guangmei, the nation’s First
Lady, who spoke fluent English and had a Master’s degree in
physics, languished in a cell for twelve years. The Cultural
Revolution was a self-inflicted wound, but that’s another story.
The three distinguished diplomats represented China in an
undignified international fandango which sowed the seeds for the
birth of the new China. Victoria witnessed the three men and their
aides storming out of the Peace Conference.
The Treaty of Versailles, ignoring Chinese protest, transferred
the former German colony in Shandong province to Japan.
President Woodrow Wilson decided that his own Fourteen Points
and Chinese aspiration for independence be damned. The
European powers didn’t care what he or China thought either.
They had already made a secret horse trade with Japan. Realpolitik
trumped the grandiose Magna Carter of the soul.
Thus, China was stabbed in the back. True friends stab you in
the front. China was the only ally that didn’t sign the Treaty of
Versailles. For people who asked three decades later the question
“who lost China?” They might find their answer here.
They might also discover “who lost Vietnam?” Ho Chi Minh
(胡志明), the key founder of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam,
couldn’t even get past the front gates. A wise man once said, “If
you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu.” Ho knew then that the
West didn’t dole out free lunches. His people must pay with blood
to gain independence from their God-fearing, law-abiding,
freedom-loving, democratic, and capitalist colonial masters.
The betrayal of China by its Western allies set off the May-
Fourth Movement. Patriotic intellectuals and passionate students
across the country protested vehemently against the West and the
selfish conniving warlords. David and Victoria were in Beijing to
watch the students make impassioned speeches and march en
masse to confront the Beijing warlord’s clique.
Some of China’s scholars decided that they needed to find an
alternate route to independence. They could no longer depend on
the vain hope that the proselytizing and pontificating West would
grant China and its people self-determination out of righteousness,
forget about grandiloquent promises made during elections. It was
good news that the mask had come off. For some Chinese
academics, they realized that they would have to walk out of the
mountains on their own.
At the time, the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia was a living
example of a successful struggle of the common people against
imperial and colonial powers. In China, a small group of book-
toting academics armed with mighty pens decided to start their
own revolution. In the absence of their two co-founders, thirteen
The Long March 205
minor activists convened the First Congress of the Chinese

Communist Party (CCP) in 1921 in Shanghai. They hoped the new
ideology would unite the people to fight for the unification and
independence of China, without which social and economic
reforms wouldn’t be possible. This is known as the China Dream.
David took Victoria into the room where history was made.
Except for two representatives of the Comintern, one of whom was
Dutch and the other Russian, all the others present were Chinese
academics; everyone was male. David pointed out young Mao
Zedong (毛泽东) and the others to Victoria, briefly explaining
each person’s background. Most of these founders of communism
in China were still learning about the economic theory behind this
new ideology, and not everyone was convinced that this European
idea of the proletariat revolution would work for China.
Out of this initial group plus the two co-founders who weren’t
present, only two would attend the inaugural ceremony of the
People’s Republic of China (PRC) on October 1, 1949 at
Tiananmen Square. Chairman Mao was one of them. All the others
had either left the Party, joined the Nationalists, sold out to the
Japanese, got excommunicated, or died a martyr engaging in the
dangerous business of trying to save China as a Communist
revolutionary. The odds for survival were thirteen percent. Dying
is easy; revolution is hard.
All of the early Chinese Communists were academics who
knew nothing of war. They hardly knew how to hold a proper fist.
Chairman Mao was a peasant’s son who rose in status to become a
librarian’s assistant for crying out loud. They were up against the
warlords and the Nationalist army led by Chiang Kai-shek (蒋介石;
jiang-jie-shi), their erstwhile brother-in-arms, whom the colonial
powers, the landed gentry, and the Shanghai crime bosses
supported with money, manpower, and guns. What chances did the
Chinese Communists have?
In 1923, after being snubbed by the West, Dr. Sun Yat-sen’s

Nationalist political party Kuomintang (KMT) decided to
cooperate with the Chinese Communist Party. His Nationalist
government, the Republic of China (ROC), would receive material
support and military training from the Soviet Union. The ROC
soon raised and trained a capable army with the expressed
objective of eliminating the warlords and reuniting China under
one flag—the ROC flag. Dr. Sun however died in 1925. He said
with his dying breath that “the revolution has not yet succeeded;
my comrades, you must continue to strive on.” Unfortunately,
dying is easy; revolution is hard. The ROC government and its
political party KMT soon fell under the control of the military led
by Chiang Kai-shek on the conservative wing.
On April 12 of 1927, the Communist (CCP) leadership, many
of whom—such as Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai—concurrent
Kuomintang (KMT) members and Republic of China (ROC)
executives, were rudely awakened from their stupor to find their
faces on Chiang Kai-shek’sWanted Dead-or-Alive posters. It was
China’s version of Night of the Long Knives. True friends stab you
in the front, but brothers riddle you with a shower of bullets from
all directions and then throw in a live grenade for good measure.
Victoria was in Shanghai with David and saw how workers
suspected of having Communist sympathies being dragged out into
the streets in broad daylight and summarily executed gangland
style. Twisted bodies rotting in pools of blood littered the streets.
Captured Communist leaders had the choice of publicly
renouncing the party and selling out their comrades, or be tortured
and terminated with extreme prejudice. Mao’s wife Yang Kaihui
(杨开慧) had the same choice when they arrested her. She chose
death and bravely died a martyr at the young age of twenty-nine.
Chairman Mao’s eldest son Mao An’ying (毛岸英), who was
eight years old at the time, was arrested with his mom. They forced
The Long March 207
him to watch the firing squad cut his mother down. Mao An’ying
later joined the Soviet Red Army as America’s ally and fought the
Nazis at the Eastern Front. He didn’t see his father again until he
was twenty-four. Just when he was about to enjoy peace and
married life, the Korean War needed volunteers. Mao An’ying
joined the long-suffering Chinese peasants who were asked to stop
the world’s greatest war juggernaut with their flesh and bone. They
waded into a sea of fire in deep winter with their straw sandals and
sent the GIs home. He was his mother’s son and died at the
frontlines of the war. He was twenty-eight years of age.
In 1927, betrayal, torture, and summary execution were lurking
in every dark corner waiting to pounce on the Communists at every
turn. The survivors dispersed into the countryside in utter disarray,
and they didn’t have soldiers or arms to defend themselves. These
labour organizing peaceniks foolishly brought a loudspeaker to a
gunfight. Dying is easy; revolution is hard. The Party of
Academics would never forget this lesson which they paid dearly
with blood. Chairman Mao’s famous quote about political power
growing from the barrel of a gun didn’t arise from a vacuum.
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) didn’t curl up and die.
Mao escaped to the remote mountains in Jiangxi (江西; River
West) province to set up a peasant soviet. The Communists would
learn how to organize a government and serve the people. The
fledging revolution movement however had many existential
challenges. Mao lost his leadership position to a clique of Soviet
educated youngsters known as the Twenty-eight Bolsheviks, which
precipitated the battlefield disasters for the CCP’s First Red Army.
The beleaguered Communists, with a ragtag militia of about a
hundred thousand peasants, were hopelessly surrounded by over a
million well-armed, well-equipped, well-trained, well-fortified,
well-funded, well-led, and well-fed Nationalist soldiers. In
addition, Chiang Kai-shek had German military experts advising
him on how to tighten the noose and strangle the bastards. For
Chiang, it was like making bugsplats.
Victoria saw the embattled peasants wielding spears and knives
trying to fight a conventional war against rifles, machine guns,
tanks, artillery, bombers, and military strongholds. It was suicidal.
“What do you think are the odds of survival for the Chinese
Communists?” David asked Victoria. “Do you think any of these
peasants know that it’s hopeless?”
“They’re getting their clocks cleaned. This looks like
checkmate in one move. There’s nothing to do but give up.”
“The Chinese Communist never gives up,” David said. “To
save the revolution and the China dream, they’ll walk out of the
mountains on their own.”
Thus began the legendary 25,000 Li (里; Chinese mile) or
6,000 mile Long March. During this arduous trek, the indomitable
Chinese Communists broke through encirclements, fought heavily
defended Nationalist positions, braved withering machine gun fire,
crossed rivers that could not be crossed, climbed insurmountable
peaks, marched through forbidding terrain, sometimes under
extreme conditions, with pursuing armies hot on their heels, and
Nationalist planes raining bombs whenever weather permitted. All
the while, this band on the run was beset by starvation, thirst,
sickness, wounds, weariness, and despair. Those who could march
no more laid themselves down and died on the spot. Victoria had
trudged along with these young boys and girls whose bodies would
strew for thousands of miles along this terrifying trail of tears.
Dying is easy; revolution is hard.
In their darkest hour, the CCP decided that they would follow
Mao whither he wanted to take them, and he led them across the
Red River (赤水河; chi-shui-he, red water river) four times not
telling anyone in which direction they’d be heading next. Near the
end of the trek, one of their own, in fact one of the thirteen
The Long March 209
founding members Zhang Guotao (张国焘) almost rent the CCP

asunder. Zhang’s staff Ye Jianying (叶剑英) arguably saved the
CCP by warning Mao of Zhang’s intention to take power by a
military coup. Mao escaped by the skin of his teeth.
Both Mao and the CCP barely survived. Out of about eighty-
six thousand souls at the beginning of the Long March, less than
ten-percent arrived one year later at the remote northern town of
Bao’an (保安; ensure safety), two hundred miles north of Xi’an
(西安; west safety, Chang’an of old). It was a group of underage,
undernourished, unkempt, unshod, unarmed, but undaunted
peasants. They would be the future conquerors of China.
If England’s Dunkirk Evacuation, Hannibal’s Crossing of the
Alps, and Xenophon’s Anabasis of the Ten Thousand seem
Herculean, the Long March of the Chinese Communists is at least
ten times maybe a hundred times more so. It’s impossible to find
any other example of a military operation that suffers the loss of
over ninety percent of the personnel and doesn’t crumble to dust.
China has a saying for extremely risky undertakings, “nine will
die; only one survives.” The Long March was such an undertaking.
Why would anyone of sound mind take such bad risks just for a
chance to try out some farfetched revolutionary idea that may or
may not work? Despite the insanely unfavourable odds, the
Chinese Communists never gave up.
Chapter 37
Mysterious Eleven
aving arrived at Bao’an in 1935, the Communists
H weren’t out of the woods by a long shot. The

Nationalist’s Northwest Army and Northeast Army
were welcoming them with another war of
extermination. Both armies were well known formidable fighting
forces led by famous generals. They had overwhelming matériel,
training, and numerical superiority over the Chinese Communists.
What chances did the Communists have? Did they really believe
they could survive? Why didn’t they just pack up and go home?
Victoria was at the Communist headquarters of Bao’an in
1936. She noticed that the decimated Communists seemed blithely
indifferent to the dire straits they were in. They most certainly
wouldn’t give up. Victoria met the American journalist Edgar
Snow who was there to report what he could learn about the
Chinese Communists. He would go on to write his popular book
Red Star over China. Yet many in America would rather believe in
the mirage that the Christian Chiang Kai-shek would convert
China into a Christian country. Chiang’s sister-in-law Madam
Song Qingling, the widow of Dr. Sun, said this about Chiang, “If
he’s a Christian, then I’m not.” It’s a polite way to say “if Chiang
Kai-shek is a Christian, then the Pope is the Flying Nun.”
Incredibly, the Communists convinced the Nationalist generals
that their common enemy was the Japanese Empire, which had
occupied Manchuria without firing a blunderbuss. This led to the
Mysterious Eleven 211
Xi’an Incident in which the two generals turned around and

arrested Chiang Kai-shek. It was the CCP leader Zhou Enlai who
successfully negotiated for Chiang’s release. What irony!
Meanwhile, Chairman Mao and the CCP had an eleventh hour
reprieve. The CCP’s peasant soldiers joined Chiang Kai-shek’s
Nationalist armies to fight the Japanese occupation in China.
After the end of World War II, the quarrelling brothers
restarted the Chinese Civil War. The war against Japan swelled the
ranks of the CCP’s Red Army, but the war-hardened Nationalist
army had three and a half times as many soldiers. Moreover,
Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist troops had an endless supply of
funds, food, fuel, weapons, ammo, tanks, trucks, trains, planes, and
ships led by seasoned generals. The Chinese Communists had the
weapons they captured from their enemies. Their leader was an ex-
librarian assistant and a part-time poet. Even Stalin hedged his bets
by signing a treaty with Chiang’s ROC government.
Chiang Kai-shek and his senior officers estimated that it would
take about six months to destroy the Communists. It was no empty
boast. The Nationalist army promptly captured Yan’an ( 延安 ;
extend safety), the home base of the CCP, sending Mao scurrying
off into the wilderness again. What made the Chinese Communists
think that they could withstand Chiang’s powerful armies in
conventional warfare? Why didn’t they just give up and go home?
“The Communists would never give up,” David said, “plus
they got the peasants and the Shang clans on their side.”
David snapped his fingers, and the setting changed to the front
of a large traditional estate beside a huge temple complex.
“We’ve arrived at the Kong Family Manor,” he said, “the
ancestral home of Confucius. Descendants of Confucius live here.
We’re going to meet an unsung hero of the Chinese Civil War.”
Troops in green uniform began arriving at the front gate of the
estate. Guards were immediately posted. Several trucks delivered
more soldiers, communications equipment, and boxes of

documents. A Jeep brought a senior officer. All the soldiers stood
at attention and saluted smartly. The short, skinny, and sleep-
deprived commander, grimacing at a persistent headache, set the
men at ease. He inspected the front gate’s plaque and couplets
before making his entrance at the beckoning of his host.
It was the last day of September in 1948. Six days earlier, the
Communist general Su Yu ( 粟裕 ) had stunned the world by
storming and, in only eight days, capturing Ji’nan (济南 ), the
capital of Shandong. No one would have believed that the
Communist peasant guerillas could accomplish such a feat. Ji’nan
was an impregnable fortress and a strategic city that controlled the
communications between major Nationalist armies in the area, as
well as keeping connections to the US Navy on the eastern coast.
In another forty days, the decisive Huai’hai (淮海) Campaign
would be fought around Xu’zhou (徐州) to the south of Ji’nan.
General Su Yu, who commanded the Communist army in east
China, and who devised the plan for this campaign decided to base
his headquarters in the home of Confucius in Qufu, Shandong.
On November 11 of 1948, at the crucial first stage of Huai’hai,
when Su Yu’s PLA soldiers encircled 120,000 Nationalist soldiers,
Su Yu moved his headquarters forward into a Temple of the fire
god (火神庙) southeast of Tu’shan Town (土山镇; earth-hill town).
Xie (契) the ancestor of the Shang tribe is the god of fire. The
Temple of the fire god is the Temple of Shang’s first father Xie.
This was the appetizer for Su Yu’s banquet. It took his peasant
soldiers eleven days to wipe out the 120,000 Nationalist soldiers
from Xu’zhou’s eastern flank, cutting off the main Nationalist
army from the sea, and setting the stage for the second course.
Su Yu cooperated with the Communist Central Field Army,
delivering the coup de main, and pulverized the Nationalist 12th
Army Group with its elite 18th Army Corps and legendary 11th
Division. Together, they gobbled up another 120,000 Nationalist

soldiers from Xu’zhou’s southern flank, cutting off the retreat
route of the main army around Xu’zhou and sealing its fate.
At the onset of the main course of the Huai’hai banquet, after
Su Yu’s army had encircled the main Nationalist army under
famed General Du Yuming ( 杜聿明 ), Su Yu moved his
headquarters to a small city known as Xiang’shan (相山; Xiang
Mountain). Legend says that a pre-dynastic Shang tribal chief
Xiang Tu (相土), said to have invented the horse-drawn chariot,
migrated here with his tribe. Su Yu kept choosing Shang sites for
his headquarters. Did he do that by accident?
There were also numerous signs of the mysterious number
eleven. The Chinese character for eleven (十一) can be arranged
vertically to form the word for earth (土; tu). The name Tu’shan
Town has the word earth. Xiang Tu (相土) has the word earth. The
name of the Nationalist Commander Du (杜) is made up of earth
(土; tu) and wood (木; mu). The Nationalist elite army group is
known as the Tu-mu ( 土木 ) or earth-wood group. This name
comes from the group’s 18th Corps and its 11th Division.
The destruction of the 18th Corps (and 11th Div.) occurred at
Shuangduiji ( 双堆集 ; double-pile-assembly). The Nationalist
general didn’t realize that the name Shuangduiji can be broken up
to mean eleven-disaster and eighteen-disaster.
Within about two months at the end of 1948, the crème de la
crème of Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist army would be not just
defeated, but annihilated. This is despite the fact that the
Nationalist army enjoyed numerical superiority, had mechanized
divisions fighting on advantageous terrain, and were led by the
best and most experienced generals, who had graduated from the
elite Whampoa (黄埔) Military Academy, the Chinese equivalent
of West Point.
The Communist commander Su Yu was a peasant’s son who

didn’t attend any military academy. He learned war by fighting at
the front lines and by being lucky enough to survive being
seriously wounded several times. Su Yu’s Whampoa opponents
didn’t even know they were fighting against him. Even after the
establishment of the PRC, the true architect and field commander
of this brilliant campaign remained a mystery. Su Yu wasn’t
counted among China’s Ten Marshals. He almost vanished into the
fog of war. Only decades later, when war archives became
available, could historians confirm Su Yu’s pivotal role in the
decisive Battle of Huai’hai.
The Communist army was supposed to be a band of guerillas
unschooled in conventional warfare and incapable of conducting
one, especially in a major battle that involved eight hundred
thousand soldiers on the Nationalist side and six hundred thousand
soldiers on the Communist side. Su Yu somehow anticipated every
move his opponents made. He even ignored orders which had been
compromised by high-level counterintelligence. It was as if Su Yu
could read his opponents like an open book.
The Nationalist generals knew that it was a battle they could ill
afford to lose. They were the last line of defence for their capital
Nanjing ( 南京 ; south capital). There would be no retreat. A
cornered beast is a dangerous beast.
Nevertheless, Su Yu’s army cut off, encircled, starved, and
vanquished the entire Nationalist army in the theatre. The de facto
commander of the Campaign on the Nationalist side, the famous
general Du Yuming (杜聿明), a first class graduate of Whampoa,
who fought brilliantly in the Burma Campaign under General
Joseph Stilwell, stayed with his troops till the bitter end. Du’s
daughter would later marry Professor Yang Zhenning (杨振宁) of
Princeton’s Institute for Advanced Study, the winner of Nobel
Prize in physics, and whose claim to fame was the highly
successful Yang-Mills Theory. Communist soldiers captured Du

when he tried to break out. Despite all the paper advantages, the
Nationalist soldiers couldn’t fight when there was no food.
When Du Yuming was captured by the 11th Division of the 4th
Army under Su Yu’s command, he pretended to be a soldier of Su
Yu’s 11th Army. He finally met his nemesis and captor Su Yu at
eleven o’clock in the morning of the eleventh of January, 1949.
Are all these elevens a coincidence?
Days after the conclusion of the Huai’hai Campaign, the PLA
marched into Beijing without firing a blunderbuss. The
Communists had already taken Manchuria before Huai’hai. Chiang
Kai-shek became an emperor with no clothes.
The ruling class of China and observers from the West,
including the Soviet Union, were never quite convinced that the
Chinese Communists could survive let alone succeed. No one
could predict that Chiang’s mighty Nationalist army would
crumble into dust in the space of just four months. The collapse
occurred gradually at first and then all at once.
There were many theories for the stunning outcome of the
Huai’hai Campaign. Some said that it was Chiang Kai-shek’s poor
support for his generals. Others attributed the victory to the fine
work of General Su Yu, who refused to obey orders to employ
guerilla tactics south of the Yangzi River, but obstinately stayed in
the Central Plains to fight a decisive battle against the ostensibly
much stronger Nationalist army. Su Yu’s insubordination was so
insufferable that Mao threatened to remove him from command.
Lucky for the Communists, Su Yu’s iron resolve convinced Mao.
One wonders what Su Yu knew that all of his superiors, including
the Communist Central Military Command did not.
The area of the Huai’hai Campaign is known as the Central
Plains of China. Everyone in China knows this ancient adage,
“whoever gains the Central Plains gains China.”
Almost everyone agreed that one of the most important factors

for the PLA’s success in this campaign had something to do with
the peasants supplying the Communist army. The Nationalist side
on the other hand depended on airlifts after being cut off and
encircled. When poor winter weather didn’t cooperate, the
Nationalist soldiers starved. Sun Tzu said, “An army without
supplies is lost; an army without food is lost; an army without
stores is lost.” Sun Tzu (孙子) was of course another secret Shang.
Notice the son radical which is the clan name of the royal Shang.
On October 1 in the year 1949, the People’s Republic of China
(PRC) was born. Chiang’s ROC government would retreat to
Taiwan. Politicians in America started blaming each other for
having lost China. Soon Cold War mentality and McCarthyism
took hold of the American psyche. It was the Taft-Hartley Act
doing its magic. It was also the unintended consequence of the
Democrat barons stealing the VP nomination from Henry Wallace.
With no possibility of a quick rapprochement, China went her own
way, as if the Americans had never come.
“The impossible becomes reality because the Chinese
Communist never gives up,” David told Victoria while the two
stood among the throng that listened to Chaiman Mao’s declaration
of the establishment of the People’s Republic of China at
Tiananmen Square. “China’s independence and its right of self-
determination are not gained by rabid barking nor through a
master’s largesse, but by blood and sacrifice, lest anyone forgets.”
Chapter 38
Hill of Beans
an Wenlong (万文龙; Wan means ten-thousand, Wen
W means writing but originally meant tattoo, Long means

dragon) grew up in the remote mountains in western
China. Time stands still in the ancient mountains. Although this
was the mid-seventies of the twentieth century, it might as well be
the tenth or the thirtieth century. The only change was the seasons,
and fall was the season for hiking.
Wenlong loved to hike and explore. He knew the mountains
well. He followed a hart through a heavy wood down a ravine, and
for the first time, he got lost. He tried to retrace his steps but he
ended up going in circles. The sun was setting. The whole area was
completely wild with not a soul in sight for miles. There was not
much he could do but secure a safe spot to pass the night.
Wenlong was seventeen years old. He was a loner and a nature
lover. The villagers weren’t too concerned about him wandering in
the mountains by himself. Wenlong was strong, agile, and smart.
He was in fact a prodigal genius with extraordinary abilities. He
came home safe and sound every time.
The forefathers of the village moved here long ago to evade the
law and the wars. The village was cut off from the rest of the world,
and for an adventurous lad like Wenlong, there was nothing much
to do except to roam the mountains and to practice survival skills.
He had done this a thousand times and had never gotten lost. But
this time, he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no idea

where he was. It was all because of that darn deer.
The teenager found a clearing, collected some twigs, and made
a fire. But as the sunlight began to fade, he could hear unsettling
noises coming from within the dark woods. He hoped that it was
just small animals. All of a sudden, Wenlong felt stings on his back.
He thought that it was a mosquito attack. When he scratched his
back, he realized that he had been hit by a number of darts.
Wenlong tried to run for cover, but his legs were numb and
wobbly. Wenlong was a strong kid. Working as an iron smith’s
apprentice helped him build up his muscles. He was also
undergoing tough training to win the job of deputy sheriff. But a
good drug can fell even an elephant, and he had five darts stuck on
him. It was more than enough to put him into a deep sleep.
Deep sleep is like a rehearsal for death. Time stops for no one
except for the dead. Wenlong may have slept for ten hours, or he
may have slept for ten million years; it makes no difference to the
half-dead living in a dreamland. When Wenlong woke up from his
stupor, he was inside an electronic pod with many flashing lights.
He took a deep breath to clear the cobwebs in his head. He got out
of the pod and teetered over to the window to look outside. The
world had changed during the time that he was asleep.
The view outside the window was a combination of Blade
Runner and Fifth Element, except brighter and more orderly.
Soaring architecture had replaced Wenlong’s green mountains,
while holographic illusion of fruit laden trees, colourful blossoms,
and fairy-like butterflies compensated for the loss of natural beauty.
Wenlong could hear no traffic noise. He heard only the whimsical
music of Scheherazade by Rimsky-Korsakov. The sky was of eerie
lavender blue. A space elevator was busily transporting people and
goods between a space station and earth … or was this earth?
Hill of Beans 219
A portal appeared on the wall. Two robed figures glided in.

They wore a large cowl over their head so that their face was
hidden in the shadow. The fabric of their robes was of the blackest
black. Except for a red flower emblem on their chest, they seemed
like two black holes from which no light could escape.
“Greetings,” the figure in front said, “peace be with you.”

“Where am I?” Wenlong blurted out.
“You’re home,” the figure replied. “You’ve always wondered
about the books you’ve read and the tall tales your elders tell you.
Now you can see for yourself.”
“Who’re you, and why do you bring me here?”
“Son of Shang, we’re true agents of DIAS known as the
Grigoris,” the figure said. “We can’t disclose the secrets of the
universe, lest the damage becomes irreparable. We can only tell
you that something evil this way comes, and it’s causing an
unstoppable wave of destruction. Even our benevolent sun, the
great Yindi-Ra, has become unstable. Our stabilizer can no longer
calm the sun. There’s no time. You must save us.”
The Grigori displayed a golden nugget on his palm.
“This will lead you to the Guardian,” he said. “Entrust him
with the key. This is our only hope.”
As he spoke, the sky turned blood red. The skyscrapers started
to crumble. Stunningly beautiful mushroom clouds in the full
spectrum of colours rose from the earth. The two Grigoris fell into
a heap and seemed to have disintegrated under their robes, leaving
only the golden nugget, which glowed brighter and brighter with
sparks flying out until it exploded into a blinding flash of light.
Wenlong woke up with the sparks still bouncing in his head.

He was in a dark cage with narrow slits that allowed some light to
pass through. He felt groggy from the after-effects of the dart
poison. From what he could see through the slits, he knew that he
was inside a cage that was hung high above the ground. There was
no escape.
The great strategist Sun Tzu said, “Know thyself and thy
enemy and thou shalt be in no peril in a hundred battles.” Sun Tzu
said nothing about winning. Wenlong made observations of his
captors to devise a plan. He noticed that the village seemed very
wealthy and well-kept. Peach trees were everywhere. The air
smelled sweet with peach blossoms. The temperature here seemed
much warmer than the mountains. It felt like late summer. A lazy
stream meandered past the village.
Wenlong noticed that females dominated the village. They
wore flowing silk and moved gracefully like fairies. The men that
showed up were either peasants tending the fields far from the
village, or they were miners covered with dirt. All the men were
subservient to the women. Wenlong didn’t see any men staying in
the village overnight, except on one occasion when the village held
a feast. Several men showed up in their Sunday best and they
didn’t leave until the next day. Every morning, the females would
gather in front of the village and practice martial arts. They trained
with fists and sticks. They also did archery on horseback and used
slings to hit targets with great accuracy.
“Can this be the fabled paradise of Peach Blossom Spring?”
Wenlong thought. This is a famous story written in the fifth
century about a fisherman’s accidental discovery of a utopia
beyond our world of turmoil and suffering. But the fisherman had
to return home to his family and left the utopia. He was never able
to find the earthly paradise again. Wenlong’s village elders told
Hill of Beans 221
him that the story was based on a real place, and that this utopia
was hidden in the mountains nearby.
Each evening, the same girl would bring food and water to
Wenlong. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him alive. She
usually came after dark using a lantern to show the way and hiding
her face in the shadows. Most nights, she would wait until he fell
asleep before showing up. The times Wenlong was awake, she
quickly left the food and ran off without saying a word. Wenlong
decided to make contact. When the girl showed up with the food
and the water, he accosted her.
“Hey, my name is Wenlong. What’s your name?”
She dashed off without answering.
The next day, he said, “Hey, I got lost. Where are we?”
She ran away like the wind. No answers.
“Can I talk to your elders?” Wenlong requested to no avail.
Finally, Wenlong tried something drastic. “If you don’t talk to me,
I won’t eat your food.”
Hunger and thirst are terrible masters. It’s against nature for
living creatures to stop consuming what is necessary for survival.
One might as well stop breathing. It requires superhuman will
power. The lack of water was even harsher. Wenlong didn’t know
how much longer he could keep this going. The food and the water
were just sitting there, beckoning him. Wenlong wanted to give in.
What if she didn’t care? What if he died here? He might as well die
with a full stomach. Death would be the ultimate escape, but his
body wanted to live. Wenlong passed out.
When Wenlong woke up, the first thing he saw was a pair of
soft limpid eyes that were made of crystalline clear water. He had
never beheld such dazzling beauty; not in his imagination, not even
in his wildest dreams. The angel was about the same age as
Wenlong. On her forehead was a strange red mark. It looked like a
heart. She was the only person in the village with such a mark.
This was the same girl who had been bringing food and water
to Wenlong. She was dripping water onto his parched lips. The
plainest liquid became the Ambrosia of the gods. The girl took a
piece of ripe peach and put it into Wenlong’s mouth. A common
fruit became the Theobroma that imparts immortality. Wenlong
felt his whole body exploding in ecstasy. He believed he was
become God.
The girl had lowered the cage to the ground and had taken
Wenlong out of his prison. He was free to flee. The girl didn’t
seem to be concerned. Wenlong thought he would try to win her
heart and mind instead.
“I’m Wan Wenlong, What’s your name?”
“I’m not s’posed to talk to you.”
“Too late,” Wenlong said. “Tell me your name so I know who
I’m talking to. I don’t bite.”
“I’ll get in trouble.”
“I won’t tell anyone. It’s just you and me here.”
“My name is Mu Xinfeng (木心凤; wood-heart-phoenix),” the
girl finally relented. “You’re in deep trouble.”
“Why? I was hiking. I got lost following a deer. Next thing I
know, I’m here in a cage.”
“I know you’re lying. You’re a spy.”
“That’s quite ridiculous. I have no idea where I am and who
you are. Why would I spy on you?”
“You don’t know but you want to know, that’s why you spy. I
know where you’re from—the Wen (文) and Wan (万) village.
You’re troublemakers. It’s no good lying. I know the truth.”
“Then you should know that I mean no harm. We hear stories
from the elders. Nobody believes ‘em.”
“Of course I know. Otherwise you’d die in your cage.”
Hill of Beans 223
Wenlong knew the legend of the Peach Blossom Spring very

well. The village elders said that people living in that utopia never
got sick and they never aged. Everything was available in
abundance, and people shared everything they had. The villagers
living there didn’t know war. They knew only peace, love,
harmony, and happiness. They had however committed one
cardinal sin. They had stolen the magic from Wenlong’s tribe. For
that, Wenlong’s clan had sworn to kill everyone in this utopian
village, if only they could find it.
Wenlong noticed that the people here weren’t particularly
peaceful. They ambushed him, locked him in a cage, and practiced
martial arts every day as if they were preparing for war. Wenlong
also thought that the segregation of the sexes and the subordination
of the men seemed rather unusual.
“Do you intend to let me go home?”
“I don’t know. The Queen Mother decides.”
“You have a queen here?”
“We have a matriarch here. We call her the Queen Mother. But
why am I telling you this? You should be the one talking.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your village, and what you say about us.”
“My family’s been in these mountains for a very long time.
Our family tradition says that we came from a race of civilized
kings, and that the Shang tribe sprang from us. I don’t know how
much of that is true. I think it’s a load of codswallop. The elders
also tell stories about another village hidden in the mountains with
villagers who don’t get sick and who live forever. They’re
however impossible to find. When I hike in the mountains, I think
about looking for the place, but I never thought it could be real.”
“We don’t know sickness but we die just like you. We hide
very well, but not well enough. That’s why we have a problem—
you. Didn’t your elders warn you never to come near us?”
“They say if anyone stumbles into your village, it’ll be difficult

to leave. I thought they’re just trying to frighten kids.”
“I wish you’d listened to them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Get back inside the cage. We can talk again tomorrow night,
but I must go now.”
Xinfeng used a pulley system to hoist the cage back up and
disappeared into the night.
Wenlong couldn’t sleep after this. Every time he closed his
eyes, he could see Xinfeng’s face, her aqueous eyes, her porcelain
skin, the blush on her cheeks, and her rosy lips with an inviting
pout. He longed to inhale her intoxicating fragrance. Wenlong
knew that he was genetically predisposed to hate Xinfeng with a
vengeance, but he felt exactly the opposite. He suffered from an
excruciating pain which could only be ameliorated by the opiate of
Xinfeng’s presence.
Some years ago, a couple of villagers from Wenlong’s village
went out of the mountains to learn of what was happening in the
world. They heard about the establishment of the People’s
Republic of China. There were some concerns among the villagers
that the well-organized Communist government would discover
their ancient village hidden in the remote mountains. The villagers
preferred that the outside world leave them alone.
Xinfeng’s villagers also learned about the new China from the
Queen Mother. The villagers couldn’t venture out of their hiding
place, nor could anyone from the outside world bring them the
news. The Queen Mother was the only person who could learn
what went on in the world outside of their secret realm.
At first, both villages deep in the remote mountains in western
China waited with bated breath for the government intruders to
arrive. Years went by, and then decades … still no one came. The
powers that be were too busy trying to govern a huge but poor
Hill of Beans 225
country in a dangerous world. It had to fight wars to defend its

peace. It had to pacify incitements and quell disturbances to
maintain the nation’s integrity. It had to survive through
embargoes and sanctions. It had to suffer natural and unnatural
disasters. It had to feed a huge growing population with scarce
arable land and scant water supply. Meanwhile it had to withstand
the siege of the Big Lie that wreaked havoc on the earth and
tortured its inhabitants with impunity.
In the midst of all these, the Chinese government had to
conduct international diplomacies, wrestle with power struggles,
and survive revolutions. In the process, it would make mistakes
and suffer the consequences. It would have to learn the lessons and
rectify the problems. The nation had to deal with the baptism by
fire of the Korean War and the growing pains of the Cultural
Revolution. Dying is easy; revolution is hard. The problems of two
tiny villages hidden in the remote mountains of western China
didn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.
Chapter 39
Paradise Lost
fter defying the law for the first time, Xinfeng became
A bolder, the visits became longer, and the lips became

looser. When lice started to bother Wenlong, Xinfeng
came in the middle of the night to take her grateful captive to the
river so that he could bathe.
Wenlong tried to lure Xinfeng into the water. It was a nice try.
She didn’t bite. Xinfeng noticed Wenlong’s clan symbol of the
scorpion tattooed in red on his back. She was taught since young to
beware of this clan. He was supposed to be her sworn enemy, and
yet she felt inexplicably drawn to him.
Wenlong took advantage of Xinfeng’s friendship to learn
something about her unusual village. Xinfeng’s Mu clan was
matriarchal. All males were workers. The men planted crops,
mined for ores, produced tools, made furniture, and built houses.
The men did the heavy lifting. The females looked after
procreation, education, religion, arts and craft, healthcare, security,
technology development, and if necessary, war.
The Mu clan had no individual families. It was one big family.
One of the Queen Mother’s main roles was to control the genetics
of the population. She decided all the mating arrangements. She
made sure the male babies would grow up to be industrious and
subservient. The girls were indoctrinated under a strict military
command structure, and they must excel in the martial arts.
Xinfeng was a product of this system, but she was unique.
Paradise Lost 227
Wenlong would soon learn about Xinfeng’s background on this

night of the full moon beside the Peach Blossom River.
“Is your Queen Mother ever going to let me go?”
“You don’t like it here?”
“I like it here. I just prefer not to live in a cage.”
“I’m risking my life to let you out. Isn’t that good enough?”
“I appreciate it, but I don’t get the point.”
“I don’t think the Queen Mother will let you go. She’s keeping
you as a hostage just in case.”
“Just in case of what?”
“Nothing. Forget that I said it. Even if they let you out, which
they won’t, they’ll send you into the mines.”
“I see a lot of miners; what’re they mining for?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
“I’m an iron smith. If you’re mining for iron, then it’s right up
my alley. Maybe I can make nice swords for you.”
“We don’t need steel swords. We only need wooden swords for
training.”
“I watch your Kung Fu training every morning. What style is
that? I’ve never seen the style before.”
“Do you know Kung Fu?”
“A little bit. I’ve been training to be the deputy sheriff.”
“What styles do you know?”
“I learn a little bit of everything from the elders; Mantis,
Shape-Mind Fist (形意拳; Xingyi quan), Labyrinth Fist (迷踪拳;
Mizong quan), Wing Chun, and Choy-Lee-Fat ( 蔡李佛 ;
combination of three styles). I also learned the Eighteen Grapples
(擒拿手; qin-na shou).”
“What are you best at?”
“I’m best at freestyle street fighting, the real stuff.”
“You want to try some Kung Fu with me?”
“Sure. Let’s have some fun. I haven’t exercised for a while.”
Wenlong is actually an excellent freestyle fighter. He had

watched and learned the Mu clan’s moves. He was well prepared.
After the traditional Kung Fu salute with the left palm over the
right fist, they started showing off a little of what they could do,
and began to test the opponent. Wenlong went on the offensive
with a new move that he had developed. It was very fast and
unorthodox. But Xinfeng had an impeccable defence. Even when
Wenlong did a double feign, she didn’t fall for it. When Wenlong
tried to use the grapple to throw Xinfeng, she turned into a
shapeless elastic girl, slipped from the hold, and flipped over
Wenlong’s head as if she was weightless, flicking his ear on the
way just to tease him.
“Wow, they really train you well,” Wenlong exclaimed.
“You’re not bad yourself,” Xinfeng said.
“Someone says the best Kung Fu is speed,” Wenlong said.
“How do you train for such good reflexes? It’s almost inhuman.”
“I’m not that fast,” Xinfeng said. “I’m just very good at
reading your moves. I can stand still in front of you and you won’t
be able to hit me.”
“I believe you. And how did you flip over my head just like
that? Have you ever considered getting into gymnastics?”
“It’s just basic Qinggong (轻功; lightness skill). I can easily
jump onto the roof with one leap, and cross the river without
getting my feet wet.”
“Let me look at your hand,” Wenlong said as he inspected
Xinfeng’s fingers. She let him have her hand for a second but
quickly withdrew it. Xinfeng had long shapely fingers with no sign
of wear and tear from practicing the martial arts.
“I’m wondering how it’s possible for such long thin fingers to
practice Kung Fu without getting any scratches or blemishes.”
“You have no idea.”
Paradise Lost 229
Xinfeng decided to show Wenlong just one of the many

awesome skills she had. She put her index finger on a peach tree’s
trunk, and, as if she was sticking her finger through cream-cheese,
effortlessly punched the finger into the wood like a nail.
Wenlong was awestruck. He took Xinfeng’s hand and
inspected it closely. Her finger was badly scratched. Wenlong no
longer had any doubt that Xinfeng was magical when the scraped
skin healed in front of his eyes. Xinfeng tried to take back her hand,
though not too forcefully. Wenlong didn’t let go. Wenlong could
see that Xinfeng was blushing like a ripe peach. Her eyes were
melting from the heat. The world dissolved around them and the
air burst into flames. Wenlong could hear both of their hearts
pounding. Xinfeng’s eyelids shuttered and her lips unlocked.
What happened next wasn’t planned; neither was it impulsive.
It was a natural phenomenon, just like leaves falling in autumn and
the full moon making feral beasts go loony. Wenlong lost all
control. He held Xinfeng in a body lock and kissed her deeply.
That was the first kiss for both Wenlong and Xinfeng. It might
have lasted for a few seconds, but it could have been a minute or
more. While a kiss is just a kiss, this was one that stopped time.
Though delirious with ecstasy, Xinfeng knew the gravity of her
transgression. She pushed Wenlong away and started walking at a
brisk pace towards the cage without saying a word.
“I’m sorry,” said Wenlong, following closely behind. “It won’t
happen again.”
Xinfeng said nothing until they were beside the cage.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I’m not sorry for … that. I’m sorry if you’re offended. You
know how I feel about you.”
“I’m not sorry. But this is getting too serious. I haven’t told
you about something important. I’m going to have a baby.”
“What? Say that again.”
“I’m … going … to have … a baby.”

“How … Who … When? Not from what we did.”
“It hasn’t happened yet, silly. I’m going to have a baby in nine
months.”
“Who’s the lucky father?” asked the crestfallen Wenlong.
“I don’t know yet. The Queen Mother will announce tomorrow
at the Banquet of Conjugation.”
“Are you seriously goin’ to go through with that?”
“I must. What choice do I have? I share the special lineage
with the Queen Mother. She’s been grooming me to take over from
her. When I have a daughter who’s fit to take my place as the
Crown Princess, the Queen Mother will abdicate the throne to me.
Then I’ll put her to sleep with a swift jab to the back of her head
with my finger. This is the tradition that has continued since the
beginning. My clan and my village depend on me to be the next
Queen Mother.”
“Can’t you tell the Queen Mother you already have me?”
“Not possible. We don’t allow genetic contamination,
especially not with you. Our village legend tells of an ancient time
when our ancestors found this place to hide from the outside world.
Our tribe has always been matriarchal and the world was becoming
too patriarchal for our taste. Out of the blues, your tribe showed up
and tried to reenact The Rape of the Sabine Women with us as the
victims. We knew how to defend ourselves. We killed your tribal
chief and took your tribal symbol, the Dragon’s Tooth.
“Your tribe wanted to revenge and to burn down our village.
We were praying to our heavenly protector Orion, our tribal god,
when two men in black cloaks known as Watchers came into our
village. They used magic to hide us from your tribe. From that
point on, the law punishes anyone for talking to your villagers with
eternal banishment; forget about the other stuff.”
“But what about us?”
Paradise Lost 231
“Yes, what about us,” Xinfeng sighed. “We’re a problem,

aren’t we? After I’ve conceived, I’ll have special ladies-in-waiting
to make sure the baby is born safely. I won’t have the freedom I
have today. Someone else will have to bring you food.”
“I’ll only eat the food that you bring.”
“Everyone who drinks from the Peach Blossom Spring is
beautiful. You’ll like the next girl and eat her food.”
“But I only have eyes for you,” Wenlong said. “If you stop
coming, I swear I’ll starve myself to death.”
“Please understand,” Xinfeng said with a tear drop rolling
down her face. “We can’t be together. It’s hopeless. Forget about
me. I can’t help you. I can't even help myself.”
“Please don’t give up on us,” Wenlong pleaded, putting his
arms around Xinfeng, who could no longer hold back the tears.
“Don’t give up on a lifetime of love. This is the only chance we
have. If you know how to leave here, I’ll take you with me to the
outside world. I swear by the Heart of the Dragon that I’ll love you
and protect you until the end of time.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“If you lie, I’ll stick a needle in your eye,” Xinfeng said.
“We’re having the Banquet of Conjugation tomorrow evening. I’ll
slip out and bring you food after the banquet. Wait for me.”
The next day was excruciatingly long. It felt like death by a
thousand cuts for Wenlong. By late afternoon, he knew that the
chosen man had arrived. He could hear the music and the
festivities, and his heart ached thinking about what Xinfeng might
be doing. Would the queen find an attractive man for her? Would
her sisters persuade her to stay? Would her sense of duty win her
over? Would she fear the outside world and the unknown future?
Would the queen make her drink a magic potion to forget him?
Would she change her mind in the last minute and let him die?
The seconds and the minutes lingered. The sun languished in

agonizing torpidity until it finally sank into the netherworld.
Wenlong listened hard for Xinfeng’s footsteps and tried to catch
her intoxicating fragrance in the air. Where is Xinfeng? The torture
of not knowing if she would show up was worse than receiving a
death sentence and being executed posthaste by a quick blade.
Wenlong could feel that the cage was being lowered. He could
hardly see Xinfeng because she was dressed in black and the moon
was behind the clouds. She moved so quickly and quietly using
Qinggong that Wenlong didn’t notice her getting here. She brought
a black cloak and some wedding buns for Wenlong.
“You can eat the buns on the way,” Xinfeng whispered. “We
have to go now. If they catch us, we won’t survive.”
“I could cover you with kisses,” the relieved Wenlong said. “I
was afraid you weren’t coming.”
They ran along the river to the foot of the Nine Dragons
Mountain where the spring water gushed out. The catch basin was
called the Nine Dragons Pond. This was the location of the fabled
Peach Blossom Spring. Xinfeng pulled away some vegetation to
reveal a large rock blocking a cave entrance. She removed a
pendant hanging on her neck. It was a piece of jade carved in the
shape of an arch. She inserted it into a hole on the side of the
mountain, and miraculously, the rock moved away to leave a space
just wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
“This allows only one person to get through,” Xinfeng said.
“Hold on to me tight and we’ll try to go through together. We need
to be quick or we’ll be crushed.”
Wenlong’s head was in the clouds. Xinfeng had told him to
hold her tight. He was too eager to oblige. In fact, he held her so
tight that she had to tell him to take it easy—there’ll be time for
that but not right now. At the count of three, they slipped through
the opening as one. The rock immediately closed and they were in
Paradise Lost 233
complete darkness. Wenlong could see nothing except for

Xinfeng’s eyes, which shone in the dark like those of a hellhound.
Inside the belly of the Nine Dragons was the Labyrinth of
Despair. Fortunately, Xinfeng knew the way. After twisting and
turning for many hours, they emerged from the other side of the
mountain. They lost track of time while inside the Nine Dragons.
The eastern sky was already brightening with a faint blush. They
kept going until they were back on familiar ground. By then the
sun was up, and the immediate dangers had passed. They sat down
to take a breather.
“Good thing the Watchers weren’t around,” Wenlong said.
“Ever since the Watchers used magic to hide us, they’ve been
guarding the entrance. We came out through the exit. In return for
hiding and protecting the village, our workers mine special ores for
them. The minerals are known as Didymium and Neodymium.”
“Do you pray to the Watchers?”
“No, we pray only to Orion. Our myth says that we’re children
of Orion. The Watchers are the god’s messengers.”
“The jade piece that opened the gate of the Nine Dragons … it
looks like a Shang ornament.”
“It’s the Dragon’s Tooth from your village. The Watchers took
it and made it into the key for the passage to the outside world. The
Queen Mother wears it on her neck. She’s the only one in the
village that can go outside. Because she’s been grooming me, she
trained me to go through the Labyrinth of Despair. Anyone who
doesn’t know the way will die in there.
“At the Banquet of Conjugation, I pretended to be drunk. In the
bedroom, I put the chosen man to sleep. The guards of the
bedroom are my dearest sisters. They cried and begged me not to
leave. Finally they agreed to pretend to be drunk as well. They let
me go because of love. We don’t even know what that means. I
only know when I’m not with you, every part of me hurts, and
when I think about never seeing my family, it also hurts. But I

must do what comes naturally and speaks truth to my heart.
“I used Qinggong to sneak into the queen’s room, and I stole
the Dragon’s Tooth from her neck. It’s good that she had a lot of
wine; otherwise I’d have to put her to sleep.”
“Now that we’re free,” Wenlong said, “I’ll take you back to my
village. They must be worried sick about my disappearance.”
“I don’t think so. I can’t possibly live in your village. Even if
your family accepts me, I’ll become a traitor to my family. My
sisters won’t survive. The Watchers will demand your village to
give us up. If they don’t obey, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Then I’ll take you far away from here,” Wenlong said. “We’ll
go into the cities and melt into the crowds. No one’ll ever know
where we are. We’ll be free to live our own lives.”
“That may be in your dreams,” Xinfeng said. “Most likely
we’ll always be on the run. The Watchers are powerful enforcers.
They’ll track us down. The Queen Mother put this mark on my
brow not only as a symbol of my status but also to make it hard for
me to live in the outside world. Besides, with no family and
friends, how can we survive? I don’t know what got into me to run
away with you.”
“When the Watchers captured me,” Wenlong said, “I fell into a
deep sleep, and I had a dream. I saw black-robed beings who called
themselves the Grigoris. They said that they’re true agents of
DIAS. They called me the son of Shang. I think they meant the
Shang Star, or the Heart of the Dragon, the star I swear by. They
also gave me a hint about where to go. We should go to An’yang
(安阳; calm-sun), the city of the calm sun, where the Shang tribe
flourished and built the foundation of China.”
Chapter 40
The Fable-Monger
he young lovers from the remote western mountains

T finally reached their destination. They were in dire straits
and desperately in need of help.
“I sense great joyful jubilations,” the blind fortune-teller
hollered at Wenlong and Xinfeng as they staggered past, “but
beware of disaster. My friends, come sit down; you need a rest.”
Wenlong and Xinfeng took a year to arrive at An’yang. They
walked, they climbed, they waded, and they raced. They worked
odd jobs, stole food, told sob stories, and hitchhiked. They kept
moving, never staying at any one place for too long, and doing
their best not to draw the attention of the authorities. But
something ominous was on their tracks. They noticed two men
dressed in black; one of whom was as tall as a sequoia, while the
other carried a beat-up suitcase, always showing up within a week
to ten days after the young couple had arrived in a town or city.
When that happened, they quickly moved on.
The arduous trek to An’yang took a long time. Along the way,
Xinfeng learned that she was pregnant. It wasn’t something they
had planned. It just happened naturally as a result of love.
Xinfeng sat down at the fortune-teller’s desk. She was due any
day now. Even the Kung Fu training didn’t exempt her from the
limitations Mother Nature put on her. She felt hungry, tired, and
weak. But she never regretted her decision to be with the person
she loved. As long as Wenlong was with her, she felt happy and
contented. Love has a way of making suffering feel like pleasure.
Although this was deep winter, the sun was out, there was no
wind, and the temperature was up. Even the street fortune-teller
with his blind man’s glasses set up shop to do business.
“A wise choice, my friends,” the fortune-teller said. “I can
sense a most auspicious upcoming event for the expectant mother.
You’re in luck because we have a family discount today, and I’ll
throw in a bonus couplet for the baby.”
“How do you know my lover is with child?” Wenlong asked as
he sat down. In order to be in tune with the times, Wenlong used
the progressive term lover rather than the traditional wife.
The blind prophet lifted his dark glasses to show the young
couple that his right eye was fine.
“In the land of the blind,” the fortune-teller said with a twinkle
in his good eye, “the one-eyed man is king.”
On the fortune-teller’s desk were several sheets of scrap paper
held in place by a paperweight of yellow stone. It immediately
caught Wenlong’s attention. There was a fortune-teller’s almanac
with the drawing of a tortoise shell on the front cover. Three
ancient words ran down the centre of the shell, which any Chinese
could read as thousand mile path (千里路). It’s an esoteric term for
the vertical line that bisects the tortoise plastron. Only oracle bone
diviners, scholars of antiquities, and professional fortune-tellers
would know the meaning of this term.
“I feel generous today,” the half-blind seer said. “I’ll give you
a family consultation for only one yuan. Satisfaction guaranteed or
your money back.”
“You’re a fortune-teller,” Wenlong said. “You know very well
we don’t have money. You must also know that I need to find a
place for my lover to stay. I need to get her some food and drinks. I
The Fable-Monger 237
think we’ll need a midwife pretty soon too. I’ll work and pay back
every cent I owe you.”
“Stop calling me a fortune-teller,” the one-eyed man said.
“People frown on this profession nowadays. I’m a fable-monger.
As for your predicament, I may be able to help. Do you have any
collateral?”
“All we’ve got are the clothes on our backs,” Wenlong said.
“That’s not true,” the Fable-monger said. “You may think that
I’m a fool, but only a fool without vision can see. And I can see
that the lady has a jade pendant hanging around her neck. If it
proves to have some value, then you can leave it with me, and I’ll
solve your problems. You’ll get it back when you pay me.”
Wenlong and Xinfeng looked at each other and nodded. They
really had no choice.
The Fable-monger wrote something on a piece of paper, folded
it and gave it to Wenlong.
“I need a professional appraiser to take a look at it. Take your
pendant and the note to Master Huang the jeweller-watchmaker
around the corner. He'll know what to do.”
When Wenlong and Xinfeng turned the corner, they saw a man
stooped in a small stall with a loupe on his eye, working intently
on an antique watch. A sign in front said Huang’s Jewellery and
Watch Maintenance. Wenlong and Xinfeng made their presence
known. The watchmaker let down the loupe and lifted his head. He
was also blind in the left eye. In fact, he was none other than the
Fable-monger himself. Both Wenlong and Xinfeng were startled.
“That’s cool,” Wenlong exclaimed. “How do you do that?”
“Do what? Fixing the watch?” the Watchmaker looked at the
couple askance and said, “It’s my profession. I’ve been doing this
for thirty years. What can I do you for?”
“Do you have a twin brother?” Xinfeng asked. “A fortune-
teller who’s your doppelgänger sent us to ask you for a favour.”
“No, I don’t have a twin brother,” the Watchmaker replied,

“and even if I did, he won’t be telling any fortunes. The Party is
very much against superstition, and so am I.”
“Well, a fortune-teller,” Wenlong said, “who calls himself a
fable-monger tells us to give this note to you.”
“Let me see,” said the Watchmaker, unfolding the note as he
peeked at the young couple from the corner of his eye.
“Stone man with one eye sent you,” the Watchmaker said.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? You should’ve said so right away.
Let me take a look at your precious pendant.”
Wenlong took the Dragon’s Tooth from Xinfeng and gave it to
the Watchmaker. The Watchmaker inspected the pendant and
returned it to Wenlong.
“I have a problem with this,” said the one-eyed Watchmaker.
“This precious pendant is priceless, but only to you. To the rest of
the world, it’s worthless. Since Stone man with one eye sent you,
I’m going to help you out. Keep going to the end of the block and
turn right. You’ll see an apothecary just around the corner. Give
him the note and he’ll look after you.”
Wenlong and Xinfeng did as they were told. Turning the
corner, they saw a small Chinese herb pharmacy with a wall of
small drawers containing all kinds of rare traditional Chinese
herbal medicine. The apothecary was checking the stock and had
his back facing the door.
“Excuse us,” Wenlong said. “We have a message for you.”
The apothecary turned around. He had a patch over his left eye,
and he was a dead ringer of the Fable-monger and the
Watchmaker.
“Holy cow!” Wenlong cried. “Are you an illusionist?”
“What utter nonsense!” the Apothecary said. “I’ve been a
Daifu ( 大夫 ; great master, Chinese term for doctor) and an
The Fable-Monger 239
apothecary in the neighbourhood for almost thirty years. You can

ask anyone. They all know me.”
At that moment, a girl of about eighteen walked by.
“Xiaobei (小贝; little treasure),” the Apothecary hollered. “Do
you know me?”
“Of course I know you,” Xiaobei hollered back. “You’re our
favourite Hua ( 华 ; China) Daifu. D’ya want me to get you
somethin’ from the market?”
The Apothecary waved off Xiaobei.
“Are we happy? Now what can I do you for?”
“We need help,” Wenlong said, handing the note to the
Apothecary.
“Stone man with one eye sent you,” the Apothecary said after
reading the note. “Well, why didn’t you say so? You should’ve
said so right away. C’mon in.”
Wenlong and Xinfeng looked at each other, both having the
feeling of déjà vu.
“Let’s see now,” the Apothecary said. “You have something
precious. Can I have a look?”
Wenlong passed the Dragon’s Tooth to the one-eyed doctor.
“This is priceless, but only to you,” the Apothecary said. “It’s
worthless to others. Since Stone man with one eye sent you, I’ll
take the pendant as collateral. Follow me.”
The Apothecary pocketed the pendant without waiting for a
reaction from Wenlong or Xinfeng. He opened a small concealed
door behind a cabinet, and led them into a dark room with a narrow
flight of stairs. Although from the outside, the shop looked like a
single level shed, there were two storeys on the inside. At the top
of the stairs was a large apartment. Wenlong managed to help
Xinfeng up the stairs. The view outside the window showed that it
was a different neighbourhood.
Another man was in the apartment. He immediately led

Wenlong and Xinfeng into the bedroom and helped Xinfeng onto
the bed. Then he brought in piping hot tea. A woman wearing a
headscarf was cooking dumplings in the kitchen. It was as if
they’re expecting visitors. Overall, the whole An’yang experience
had been weird but wonderful. Wenlong was thankful that he and
Xinfeng got help in this hour of need.
“This helpful fellow is my assistant,” the one-eyed Apothecary
said. “Just call him Shazi (傻子; idiot). He’ll be here to help you
with whatever you need. He may be an idiot, but he’s not a moron.
He’ll make sure you and your wife are safe. Those scary Watchers
in black coats won’t find you. The auntie in the kitchen is
Xiaobei’s mom. Just call her Beiyi (贝姨; Auntie Bei). She’s the
best midwife this side of the galaxy. I have important work to do. I
have to go now. Don’t worry. You’ve come to the right place.
Everything’ll be fine.”
Chapter 41
The Dragon’s Dream
infeng had a good meal. She soaked and tenderized
X herself with a long hot bath and fell asleep after drinking
several cups of a fragrant flower tea that Shazi brewed.
Shazi assured Wenlong that it was just Amaranth and Chamomile
tea, perfectly safe for Xinfeng’s condition. Beiyi left without
saying much, except that she would be downstairs, and that she
could come up any time when needed.
“Congratulations,” Shazi said, “you’re going to be a father
soon. Have you thought of a name?”
“We’ve agreed that if it’s a boy, we’ll call him Dapeng (大鹏;
big mythical bird Peng). If it’s a girl, we’ll call her Wenxin (文心;
tattoo-heart, or heart-of-literature).”
“They’re both excellent names. Dapeng is the mythical bird
that’s the avatar of the most famous general of Song dynasty, Yue
Fei (岳飞; mountain-flight). We’re actually in the part of An’yang
where he was born. Like you, Yue Fei was a son of Shang. Wenxin
is also a very nice name. Not only does it combine the names of
her parents, it’s also the short title of one of the most important
books of Chinese literature—The Heart of Literature Sculpts the
Dragon (文心雕龙). I’m so excited; I can't wait to meet the baby.”
“Can I ask something about my mysterious benefactors?”
“I know; you have many questions. But it’s been a long day for
you. We’ll have time for answers. Tomorrow is Winter Festival.
It’s a day of transition. It’s going to be a big day for everyone. I’m
sorry we don’t have furniture. You’ll have to sleep on the floor for
the time being. Have a good rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Wenlong cleaned himself up and slept on the floor after Shazi
left. It was the softest floor he had ever slept on. He also had the
sweetest dream. Wenlong dreamed that he and Xinfeng would
have a beautiful baby girl. The family would survive and stay
together. He would find a place for his family to live and thrive in.
He and Xinfeng would have more children and the children would
in turn have children. On the weekends or the holidays, the
children would visit and dine together. He and Xinfeng would
grow old together surrounded by numerous descendants.
Where is this paradise? Is it on earth or is it only in his dreams?
Where all parents are strong and wise and capable, and all the
children are happy and beloved. Where brothers and sisters neither
slaughter each other, nor enslave one another, nor tell lies to
everyone from morning till night. Where the children love and help
each other, share everything and take care of one another, and all
of them live peaceful, fruitful, and happy lives. Where is this
place? Is it China?
The dream was so sweet and Wenlong slept so well that he
didn’t know Beiyi came up in the middle of the night to check on
Xinfeng. She found that Xinfeng’s contractions had started and her
water had broken. Beiyi decided to use acupuncture to keep
Xinfeng calm while she made preparations for delivery. Beiyi was
indeed an expert midwife, because she delivered a seven pound
baby girl shortly before sun-up without waking Wenlong. It was
almost painless for Xinfeng. When Shazi arrived with breakfast,
namely Chinese fried choux known as You’tiao (油条; oil strip),
hard-boiled eggs, and multi-grain congee, he woke Wenlong to the
good news.
The Dragon’s Dream 243
Wenlong spent the first half of the morning just sitting there
admiring the baby without making a sound so that Xinfeng could
rest. Beiyi had left for other jobs while Shazi went out on a chore.
When Shazi returned, he had an old beat up suitcase with him.
“How’re the mother and child doing?” he whispered.
“Both sleeping,” said Wenlong, who could hardly hide his glee.
“I still can’t believe they’re mine.”
“We have something to discuss.”
“Yes, the whole story of who you are,” Wenlong said, “and
why you’re helping us.”
“Well, we’re not completely altruistic,” Shazi said. “This is
much bigger than you and us. Come outside so we won’t wake
them.”
Shazi showed Wenlong the briefcase.
“The experience you had yesterday with Hua Daifu was a little
bit of magic and a whole lot of future technologies. It’s all in this
briefcase. I’ll demonstrate later. The bad news is that the Watchers
are already in town. They’re here not only to arrest you and your
wife; they’re here to take your baby.”
“Why do the Watchers want our baby? Can you help us elude
them?”
“The Watchers believe that your baby is the key to a power that
they want to have. Hua Daifu and I know the history of the
Watchers. They’re at first benign agents but they’ve become
corrupt over time. They’re not wrong. Your baby is the Key, and
we must never let the Watchers take her. But we can’t be here
forever. Hua Daifu and I are travellers. We must eventually move
on, and where we’re going, we can’t take you. When you lose our
protection, the Watchers will find you. It’s only a matter of time.”
“There must be a way. I’m not going to give up. I’m guessing
you know about the civilized kings or civilizing kings. My elders
tell me we’re of their blood. We’re supposed to hate the Mu clan
and want to slaughter them. But I fell in love instead with their
princess the first time I laid eyes on her. The Grigoris told me in a
dream about the Key and to come to An’yang. You are waiting
here with Hua Daifu to help us. I had a dream last night that
everything would be fine. I’m sure none of this is a coincidence.”
“Do you know why you’re having these dreams?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard of people who dream about the future.
Is that possible?”
“That’s not possible,” Shazi said. “There’s a basic law about
time, which is that we don’t know what it is. The only thing we can
be certain of about time is that we can’t jump to a future that hasn’t
happened. We exist in the local and the present, the distant and the
past is a shadow, and the future doesn’t exist until the sequential
collapse of quantum states makes it our concrete present. This is
the absolute law that even the universe has to follow. Predictions
are only predictions. They’re not certainties.
“As for why we’re here, something unfortunate happened long
ago and far away that violated this absolute law. The universe lost
its equipoise and turbulence is coming. You don’t know it yet
because the tsunami takes a long time to get here. Your scientists
see the clues but they don’t understand it, and they describe the
phenomena with words such as Dark, Strange, Ghost, or God.
“Hua Daifu is a very wise sage. He discovered at great cost to
himself the one Key that can save us all. For reasons unknown, the
secret seed of the Key was planted long ago by an uber-savant
before he lost his mind. His name is Millipath, meaning thousand
mile path. It’s by chance that the components for the Key ended up
on earth and we believe that your daughter is the Key. We’ll have
more confirmation as the day progresses.”
“This sounds wilder than any of the tall tales my village elders
ever told me,” Wenlong exclaimed. “How does my daughter
become the key to saving the universe?”
“We don’t know everything for certain, but it appears the

Watchers knew that half the Key was in Xinfeng’s clan. They
didn’t realize that you were the complementary half. They missed
the chance to have the Key when they captured you. They lost that
chance when you escaped Nine Dragons with Xinfeng. Now
they’ll spare no efforts to get the completed Key, your daughter.”
“Why not work together to save the universe? Everyone
benefits.”
“We can’t trust the Watchers. We don’t know how the power
of the Key works, but if it can calm the universe, then it can roil
the universe too. Your daughter has a terrible power that we don’t
understand. We can’t let her fall into the Watchers’ hands.”
“That still doesn’t explain why my dreams seem to tell the
future?”
“Your dreams can’t tell the future,” Shazi explained. “They tell
you about the past. If you find certain dreams puzzling, that’s
because you don’t realize you have a huge store of memory that’s
hidden and locked up. Do you know why birds are born with the
ability to fly long distances navigating by the stars and the earth’s
magnetic fields? It’s genetic memory.
“You and Xinfeng are born with the aggregate memory of your
ancestors encoded in your genes. Some of these memories may
leak into your consciousness but usually in a scrambled form or as
incomplete images that show up in your dreams. You’re normally
not allowed to enter the vault of your inherited memory, but I
suspect your daughter may have the power to do that.”
Xinfeng had awakened and had overheard part of the
conversation. She decided to join the men.
“How are you feeling,” asked Wenlong, attending to his wife.
“I’m well rested, and a little hungry. I want to find out how we
can save ourselves and save the world at the same time.”
“Go lie down in bed,” Wenlong insisted. “I’ll get you some
porridge and eggs from the kitchen.”
“Good morning,” Shazi said. “I guess you overheard some of
our conversation. Then you know we have a serious situation here,
and we need both of you to make a difficult decision.”
“We’re listening,” said Xinfeng, sitting down at the table.
Wenlong quickly retrieved a pillow from the bedroom to act as a
cushion for Xinfeng. He forgot that Xinfeng had extraordinary
self-healing powers.
Shazi spread out a piece of paper that looked like the folded
note that was passed from the Fable-monger to the Apothecary.
“Here is a message from Hua Daifu.”
Wenlong and Xinfeng noticed that the note was a page from an
academic article. There was a map inset showing the Huan River—
or An’yang River—and Yin’xu. South of the river in the middle of
the palace area of the Shang ruins was a penciled cross, and beside
it also in pencil, “8 m.”
The author of the article was Huang Shi. Wenlong turned the
page over and found these hand-written words:
“The sun stops going south, the Oracle is here; find the
yellowish stone, trust it with all your heart; use the map to locate, a
treasure very rare; the ring of unicorn, leave in the baby’s care;
follow the moron’s lead, whither be here or there.” Signed: Stone
man with one eye; Dated: Dec. 22, 1975.
Hua Daifu didn’t leave any explanations, so they tried to
decipher the message themselves. The sun stops going south—that
would be the winter solstice. The Oracle is here—the Bearer of the
Oracle has arrived. Find the yellowish stone—find the author of
the article Huang Shi, which means yellow stone. Trust it with all
your heart—trust Huang Shi with Wenxin, the Heart of Literature.
Use the map to locate, a treasure very rare—the map inset shows
the exact location where a rare treasure is buried. The ring of
unicorn, leave in the baby’s care—the rare treasure would be a ring
with a unicorn motif; the ring must stay with the baby. Follow the
moron’s lead, whither be here or there—always follow Shazi’s
advice, in whatever direction he points.
“This is crazy,” Xinfeng cried. “I will not give my daughter to
a total stranger.”
“When I leave here,” Shazi said, “the Watchers will arrest you.
Not only will you never see each other again, they’ll use your
daughter against you and they’ll enslave all sentient beings. Is that
what you want?”
“Please tell me this is not happening,” Xinfeng fell into
Wenlong’s arms in tears. “Please tell me this is just a bad dream.
Wenlong, what happened to your empty promises?”
“I know this is hard to swallow, but your daughter must not fall
into the wrong hands. Huang Shi is the descendant of a secret
Shang lineage known as the Guardian of the Oracle. An intricate
plan was laid long ago to await the arrival of your daughter. We’re
lucky that things have worked out so far. Huang Shi and his family
will hide your daughter until she’s old enough to unlock her
powers. Then she’ll come to rescue you from eternal banishment.

This is the only chance that you’ll be reunited as a family and the
cataclysmic catastrophe can be stopped.”
Shazi put the briefcase on the table and lifted the cover slightly
to let out a beam of golden light.
“This is a Feynman quantum device,” he said, “which
calculates all non-trivial outcomes of not following our plan. None
of them leads to a good ending. Take a look if you’re not afraid to
learn the truth.”
Shazi pointed the beam at Xinfeng. She was immediately
mesmerized. She couldn’t blink when staring into the abyss, but
her tears kept cascading down her face. Wenlong pulled Xinfeng
away from the torturous device lest it broke her heart and soul.
After that, Xinfeng couldn’t speak but wept in Wenlong’s arms. At
long last, Xinfeng stemmed her tears and nodded her head. She
was finally convinced that they must make that sacrifice.
“But how do we find Huang Shi?” Wenlong asked.
“One of the contributors to Huang Shi’s paper,” Shazi said, “is
the head of the Institute of Archaeology, the famous Professor
Zheng. She’ll open doors for us.”
“What makes you think,” Wenlong asked, “Professor Zheng
will give us the time of day?”
“By promising her a unique discovery of the ages,” Shazi
replied, putting his finger on the map. “Wenlong, my friend, you’ll
learn to unleash the hidden powers of your ancestors. You can be
very convincing if you speak firmly to Professor Zheng like this,
‘Professor, you will tell Huang Shi to come immediately.’
Professor Zheng will give us Huang Shi, and she’ll find our
unicorn ring for us.”
Shazi produced a box from his coat pocket. It had the drawing
of a plant on the cover ( ), and on the underside of the lid, the
drawing of a hand and an elephant ( ).
“Here’s a small present from Hua Daifu to the baby,” Shazi

said. Inside the box was the Dragon’s Tooth. “Seeing how you two
won’t be able to pay for your room and board, Hua Daifu decided
to take possession of the collateral and give it as a present to the
baby. This must stay with her at all times.”
“What’s this?” Xinfeng asked when she saw the Oracle Bone
words on the pendant. The Dragon’s Tooth didn’t have any words
engraved on it before.
“Hua Daifu tested your Dragon’s Tooth yesterday with the
touchstone on his walking staff. He confirmed that it’s authentic
because it’s harder than the hardest substance on earth by about ten
orders of hardness. The words appeared spontaneously this
morning. If you look carefully, you’ll see that the ancient
characters are not carved on the surface. Since it’s the hardest
material on earth, nothing will cut it. The creation of the pendant
and appearance of the words are mysteries we don’t have answers
to. It seems we’re not the only ones trying to save the universe.
“The words are what’ll prompt Huang Shi and his family to
protect your daughter. I can see her name and the year of her birth.
I see also the Extreme of Winter (冬至), which is today, the Winter
Festival. This is the so called Oracle that the Guardian of the
Oracle has been waiting for. When Huang Shi sees this, he’ll give
his life to hide your daughter from the Watchers.”
“What do we have to do?” Wenlong asked.
“You’ll come with me now to pay Professor Zheng a visit,”
Shazi said. “Xinfeng has five months to bond with the baby. When
excavation season starts, we’ll find the unicorn ring. That’ll be
when I have to leave. Once I’m gone, the Watchers will find you
very quickly. They know that you’re hiding here and they’re
weaving a very fine net to nab you.”
Xinfeng was still inconsolable over the prospect of having to
lose her baby.
“Courage, my love,” Wenlong comforted his wife. “All these

will blow over. My dreams about our future will come true. We
need to be strong and follow the plan. I’ll go now with Mr. Shazi
to find Professor Zheng and Huang Shi. You can stay here with the
baby and design a secret mark for her. That way we’ll always
recognize our daughter.”
Wenlong’s meeting with Professor Zheng brought Huang Shi
to An’yang. They decided to meet again at the beginning of the
new excavation season. Fast forward to May of 1976, Wenlong
showed up at the Institute as promised and indicated the exact
location of where Professor Zheng should drill. They quickly
reached the foundation at the site of the ancient Shang palace.
Normally, that was the time to stop. No one had ever found
anything under Shang palace foundations except virgin soil.
Wenlong told Professor Zheng with a polite but firm voice,
“Rare treasures are buried deep. You will keep on drilling.”
Professor Zheng agreed. Somewhere around eight metres or
twenty-six feet below ground level, Professor Zheng and China
struck gold. Small but priceless artifacts started surfacing. Soon it
became unmistakable to everyone present that they had made a
major discovery. It was the undisturbed tomb of the famous Shang
queen Fu Hao, or Queen Zia in our story.
One of the first artifacts that came up was a jade ring with a
mythical beast motif. Somehow, it ended up in Wenxin’s jewellery
box. In the chaos of the early excitement, Shazi’s replacement ring
easily fooled the handlers. That evening, Shazi came to the
apartment for the last time.
“This is it. My job’s done here,” Shazi said. “The unicorn ring
is one of a pair. The two rings will be reunited because they’re
inseparable twins. They’ll seek out each other. Their true power
will fully manifest when they’re united. The words on the back of
this ring say go and come, meaning peripatetic. That’s the name of
the unicorn ring. It’s pronounced Dilo ( 的卢 ; di-lu, name of

famous horse) in a lost language of the mythical past. The other
ring’s name is Re’an ( 热鞍 ; hot or blazing saddle) meaning
inexorable. You’ll tell Huang Shi the names when you see him
later. It’s by invoking these names your daughter will one day
acquire the power to come and go in time and space.
“Your daughter is special because, as the Key, she has the
genetic coding that enables her to repair brain damages caused by
temporal anomalies. The rings will only respond to her commands.
It’s however a dangerous power. She must never violate causality,
for that was what caused the turbulence in the first place.”
Shazi produced two neatly folded black cloaks from a large
paper bag.
“These are the cloaks you wore when you left Peach Blossom
Spring. You sold them for food on the way here. I’ve retrieved
them for you. I’ve also made some alterations. When the Watchers
catch up to you and arrest you, they’ll zap you with a strong beam.
You need to wrap yourself with the cloak to survive the blast. The
cloaks have other features; when facing certain death, say the
words je me souviens to save yourself. It’ll work only once. Be
careful not to waste it.”
“Will we meet again?” Wenlong asked.
“We’ll find out in due time,” Shazi said, “when the inexorable
current of time takes us to port according to schedule. I’m quite
certain that somewhere along the journey, we’ll meet again. We
don’t know when or where because the future hasn’t happened yet
and the distant past has become uncertain again. We may have
already met. Good luck to you and to us all, Godspeed, au revoir,
auf Wiedersehne, adiós, sayanara, and zaijian (再见; again see).”
Chapter 42
Brobdingnagian China
ntering China wasn’t as stressful as Victoria had

E imagined. David seemed to know everyone at Customs,
got the EP11 unloaded, and drove out in record time.
“Good old China,” David beamed. “I may not look Chinese,
but I feel Chinese, and I’m always happy coming home.”
“You’ve lived in Canada for a long time,” Victoria said, “and
your family is there. Do you still think of China as your home?”
“China is always going to be where I was born,” David replied,
“where my relatives are, and where I learned to be a person.
Without China and the people who gave me life and nurtured me, I
can’t be the person that I am. You’d probably feel the same way
about being Canadian. Now that you’ve experienced some Chinese
history, I hope you have a better idea about being Chinese.”
“It certainly changed my impression of China. I guess pretty
soon, I’ll be experiencing the real deal, eh?”
“Prepare to be amazed,” David said. “There’s something I want
you to know as we’re getting’ closer to our destination. My father
has been living in a dream state for as long as you’ve been under
my care. We’re going to try something new. We’ll try to connect
with him through the VR system. Moira says that you have an
adaptive brainwave that seems to tap into other player’s
subconscious. Maybe you can tell my father to wake up.”
“I hope he doesn’t have nightmares.”
Brobdingnagian China 253
“There’s always some risk,” David said, “but I’ll be there with
you. Also, just in case that I can’t go home, will you give my wife
Beth a call? Tell her I can’t make it home for Seder (Passover
dinner). She’ll understand what it means.”
Victoria’s mood went dark. She realized that David had made
sacrifices and had taken great risks to guide her to her destiny.
“No need to worry,” said David, trying to lighten the mood.
“We’ll survive this. I’m talking about a very remote chance. By the
way, I have prepared a surprise for you. I think you’ll like it.”
David asked Moira to reroute from the long drive through
Hangzhou (杭州) to the Hangzhou Bay Bridge detour. It would
shave off a couple of hours going from Ningbo to Shanghai.
“The Hangzhou Bay Bridge is one of the longest sea bridges in
the world,” David said, “surpassed only by two others also in
China. In the past, if we wanted to go from Ningbo to Shanghai,
we’d have to go around the bay through Hangzhou, which is not
such a bad thing. Hangzhou’s a beautiful city. My original plan
was to take the long route to visit a secret clansman at Alibaba.
He’s anxious to meet the long awaited Bearer of the Oracle …
Well, maybe some other time.”
The Hangzhou Bay Bridge is about twenty-two miles long.
You can’t see one end of the bridge from the other end. The EP11
nicknamed the Starship Bozeman was cruising along the bridge
when Moira materialized to deliver an urgent message.
“There are three trucks behind us,” she said, “speeding at a
hundred miles per hour. They’re blocking all three lanes. We’ll
have to speed up. David, Victoria; prepare for safety procedures.”
David and Victoria were promptly strapped to their seats.
The EP11 accelerated to keep the speeding trucks at a safe
distance, but another problem soon appeared. Three large trucks up
front on the slow lane suddenly spread out to block traffic on all
three lanes. The EP11 was boxed in. When the six trucks
converged, David and Victoria would become waffles.
“Don’t worry,” David said, trying to mollify Victoria. “The
Bozeman is impregnable. Moira, activate Smart Defence.”
The EP11 promptly spit out a shower of pellets. When the
pellets hit the windshield of the pursuing trucks, they splashed into
a coat of paint, completely obscuring the driver’s view. The trucks
however kept forging forward without reacting.
“That didn’t work,” David said. “I guess the Watchers are
using robo-drivers. Moira, activate Smart Escape.”
The EP11 shot forth a small rocket, which created a mountain
of thick soupy smoke in front. The car drove right into the cloud
and disappeared from sight. The trucks drove through as well in
close pursuit but it seemed that the EP11 had vanished. A flying
vehicle rose from the smoke into the air. The EP11 had
transformed into a quadcopter and flew off the bridge.
“The Bozeman is a bag of tricks,” Victoria exclaimed excitedly.
“DJI built this module for me,” David said. “But we don’t want
to alert air control. Moira, please go sea level Hover Mode.”
An air-cushion inflated beneath the EP11, and the car landed
softly on the sea. The drone propellers now changed direction and
drove the hovercraft forward at high speed.
“David, enough showing off,” Moira said. “We don’t need to
advertise our whereabouts. Maybe Victoria would enjoy an
underwater adventure.”
“Sure, Moira, take us to preset destination in Nautilus Mode,”
David said. “I want to take the Maglev from the airport. Please
give us panoramic view before you leave.”
With the air-cushion deflated and retracted, the windows sealed,
the wheels folded into a water-tight compartment, and a rim-
propulsion thruster extending from the rear trunk, the EP11
transformed into a quiet underwater vessel. Moira turned on the
Brobdingnagian China 255
high-definition panoramic function, making the scenery of the

ocean from inside the Bozeman resemble the view from a bubble.
Victoria was awestruck by the experience, and for the next
hour, enjoyed visits by finless porpoises, Chinese sturgeons, and
giant sea turtles. The EP11 entered a canal and drove up a ramp
onto dry land. In ten minutes, David and Victoria arrived safely at
Shanghai Pudong International Airport.
Victoria gaped at the huge airport with wide-eyed innocence,
feeling Lilliputian in a Brobdingnagian world.
“How does China do this?” Victoria thought aloud. “How can
they go from having a problem to feed themselves and being beat
up by everybody into this … and so quickly? No wonder people
keep saying China steals from America.”
“I guess for some people,” David said, “having the freedom of
speech means having the freedom to lie and the freedom to insult.
People like to say China steals because it fits their prejudice. It also
fits the lying narrative of the Western politicians and the Western
media. The people who don’t repeat this lie are in China doing
business, making friends, and having a grand experience.
“Most people in China work very hard, learn very fast, and
make tremendous sacrifices. On top of that, America prints the
paper to buy the things that China makes, while China must earn
the American paper to buy everything that they need. Is that fair?
“In this environment, China’s leaders make proper policies,
play the game of the Big Lie, and quietly take their lumps when
being bullied and insulted. This is a very Chinese virtue known as
Ren (忍; the word shows a knife’s cutting edge on a heart), long-
suffering forbearance. Confucius said, ‘In the application of
manners, the best way is harmony.’ China would endure hardships,
swallow insults, and suffer fools because they follow these basic
Confucian values. I think that China should tell a better story of
itself—the true story—but what do I know?”
“China’s success is already the best story,” Victoria said. “Who

cares what liars say?”
“Sometimes, a single lie can destroy a country, and cause death
and suffering to millions,” David said. “There are lots of such
examples. We must be vigilant for the truth. Overall, I’m excited
about China’s future. Other than our inability to build a winning
national soccer team or letting the world know the true story of
China, I’m optimistic we’ll soon be able to achieve our own
version of a harmonious society without the curse of the Big Lie.”
Victoria didn’t understand what David was griping about as
she feasted her eyes on this fantastic Chinese city while flying
through it in the Maglev. David pointed out Disneyland as the train
passed the amusement park. Why would Disney invest in China
and continue to let China steal from them? Do bald-faced lies told
by everyone from morning till night makes one’s prejudice more
acceptable? Victoria could understand why David felt that way.
What Victoria saw was an affluent and efficient modern
society. People are polite, friendly, and helpful. There are many
foreigners too, some of whom have taken up long term or
permanent residence in China. Shanghai is only one city but it has
two-thirds the population of Canada. The whole country of China
has a population of 1.4 billion. The ability of the Chinese
government to create a thriving and harmonious society for such a
large population on a land of few natural resources racked by more
than a century of war and over-exploitation is by itself no mean
feat. Victoria could see why some people in the West who had
been fed a steady diet of lies about China would feel intimidated.
The ride up the Shanghai Tower was exhilarating. It felt like
going up in a rocket. David had a suite on the 110th floor of a hotel
priced for an oil sheikh or a warlord. Victoria couldn’t understand
how nothing seemed to be impossible for David, much as nothing
seems to be impossible for China.
Chapter 43
Doing a Hudsucker
o one was at the office. The door was locked. David
N used his Huawei phone combined with fingerprint

biometrics and an entry code to unlock the door. The
office was an extravagant hotel suite. All the furniture was
expensive rosewood from the Ming and Qing dynasties. Several
cabinets full of antique vessels dominated the room. At one corner
was a wet bar. Beside it were several wine coolers filled with
vintage Petrus and Margaux. Behind the wet bar was a shelf lined
with aged Talisker, Islay, and Glenfiddich single malts. There were
also many bottles of very old vintage Armagnac and Maotai.
A pair of bronze leogryphs guarded the entrance to the
manager’s office. Each leogryph had a horn on the top of its head.
It was probably a form of unicorn similar to the Zhi (廌; unicorn;
OB: ) of the Shang. After all, the unicorn is supposed to have
indeterminate form. The Asian Society founded by John D.
Rockefeller III has a similar pair and uses the leogryph as its logo.
Does Rockefeller have anything to do with the stone-man and the
Shang merchant-traders?
All of a sudden, David stopped dead in his tracks. A light had
flashed across his eyes. A red laser dot appeared over his heart.
“I’ve underestimated the enemy,” David said.
Jules rose from behind the wet bar with a little red laser pen in
his left hand, pointing it playfully at David.
“Do you know who we are?” Jules asked by habit.
David grabbed Victoria’s hand and tried to make a bolt for the
door, but Vincent sidled into view with his briefcase and his
Magnum blocking the exit.
“Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused us already?”
Jules said. “Why don’t you just take the money and let us have the
girl? Everybody’s cool. Nobody has to kill anybody.”
Vincent walked up to David and put the gun to his head.
“I don’t know why we have to pay him,” Vincent said bitterly.
“I feel like shooting him right now on principle.”
“Chill, man,” David said, pushing the gun away with his
fingers. “We’re talking, aren’t we? I like to see what you’ve got in
that briefcase. Is that my money?”
Vincent looked at Jules, who nodded.
Vincent opened the case to release a golden beam.
“Look inside,” Jules said, “and you’ll understand why it’s
important that we have the girl. We’re not the bad guys.”
“Not the bad guys?” Victoria exclaimed. “You were trying to
kill us on Hangzhou Bay Bridge.”
“We were just trying to box you in,” Jules said. “We don’t kill
people. We’re not programmed to do that.”
“What about my parents?” Victoria cried. “My father said it
wasn’t an accident. You killed my parents.”
“Whoa! Hold just a cot’n-pickin’ minute, little lady,” Jules
said. “That’s a serious accusation. I don’t think that’s fair, because
no one has seen your parent’s bodies. The death certificates are just
lies like all the other lies that have made up your life.”
“Then what are these guns for?” David asked. “Your partner
here just threatened to blow my head off.”
“It’s just for show,” said Vincent, pulling the trigger a few
times. “Unlike you, we don’t kill people in cold blood.”
Doing a Hudsucker 259
“David, take a look into the briefcase,” Jules said. “It’ll tell you
the unvarnished truth. Your girl is an anomaly of nature. She won’t
stop the apocalypse. She’ll cause it. We can’t let that happen.”
As David gazed into the golden beam, his illuminated face
showed wonder, then longing, then fear, and finally despair.
Victoria sensed something unpleasant was about to happen, and
she made a mental note of how she should escape.
“Are we cool?” Jules asked, as Vincent closed the briefcase.
“Can I think about it? I need eleven seconds.”
Eleven seconds was of course the code for a surprise. An
explosion blew out all the windows stunning Vincent and Jules for
a second. It was enough for David to grab the men, each with one
arm, and leapt out of the opening.
What David didn’t count on was having Victoria instinctively
grabbing him. That would have been a truly foolish thing for a
normal girl to do, because she would fall eighteen hundred feet to
the pavement and be mashed into a pâté with the other three men.
Victoria found herself clinging precariously to the ledge of the
window, while she had an arm wrapped around David’s leg. Not
only did Victoria save David, the other two men were holding on
to David for dear life. It was the perfect time for Victoria to
discover she had superhuman strength.
“Go to Tianzifang,” David shouted. “Find Gaffer’s Café and
ask for Charlie.”
Vincent still had the briefcase, which Jules was trying to open
with one hand, meanwhile swearing with all the inoffensive cuss
words in his thesaurus, like “father mucker; what the fig!”
The weight of the three men was slowly dragging Victoria
down. Suddenly three pairs of hands grabbed Victoria and
prevented her from slipping.
“You’ll have to let go now,” David yelled. “The briefcase is a
Time bomb; it’s going to blow!”
Victoria knew she had to let go. If it was a bomb, then no one
could save David, and not only would it kill her, it would also kill
whoever was trying to save her. Victoria loosened her grip and
looked helplessly at David as he fell through the air with his two
assailants. The explosion was a very bright flash that expanded
swiftly and then imploded back into a point. It made no sound at
all. The three men and the briefcase disappeared without a trace. It
was as if they had never existed.
The hands pulled Victoria back into the room. They’re
Victoria’s surprise—Bella, Jackie, and Moira. The Weird Sisters
were in a three-way hug before anyone could say a word. When
they finally disengaged, the questions flew fast and furious.
“Holy crap” Jackie exclaimed, “what’s that all about? They just
disappeared into thin air!”
“Don’t tell me you two are involved in this,” Victoria cried.
“OMG, what did you do to your hair?” Bella squealed. “Why
are you dressed like a dude?”
It turned out David had recruited Bella and Jackie’s parents to
keep an eye on Victoria. Bella and Jackie of course didn’t know
until Vincent and Jules showed up in their homes. To the girls,
Victoria was their best friend and that was that. Now that they
knew her to be someone their families had sworn to protect, they
felt all the more determined to help.
When the two families hurriedly left Toronto on Christmas
Eve, they flew directly to the Shanghai Disneyland Hotel. David
wanted them out of harm’s way. He came up with the idea to have
the Weird Sisters back together. That was David’s big mistake.
Good intentions led the Watchers straight to his lair.
David sacrificed himself to buy time for Victoria. Time,
precious time, the stuff that life is made of. Victoria must complete
the last leg of her odyssey without David’s help.
Doing a Hudsucker 261
Moira gave Victoria a sealed envelope from David. It seemed

that David always had a Plan B.
Dear Victoria,
If you’re reading this, then I’ve failed to accompany you
all the way to the end of the journey. I’m sorry.
Go to Gaffer’s Café at Tianzifang and ask for Charlie
Chan. When asked, “Are you related?” You should
reply, “Tian and Chen is one family; Zi and Kong has
the same root.” Charlie will take you to my father.
Good luck.
David Huang
p.s. my wife Beth’s number: (416) xxx-xxxx
p.p.s. Tianzifang (田子坊) is a tourist area in Shanghai.
Tian (田; field) is the same name as Chen (陈; British
form is Chan). The two names were homophones in
ancient dialect. The two clans were in fact the same. The
Kong kinship clan of Confucius came from the royal
Shang blood clan of Zi. Kong (孔; OB: ) is obviously
a derivative of Zi (子; OB: ). Confucius has a surname
by blood clan. It is in fact Zi.
N.B. LEAVE THE BUILDING RIGHT AWAY!
Chapter 44
Next Stop, Gaffer’s
oira knew the evacuation protocol. She disabled the
M security cameras, led the girls to an emergency exit, and

commandeered a service elevator that disgorged them
into a back street. Moira and Victoria agreed that David could still
be alive but their most pressing matter was to send Victoria to her
next destination.
“Did David tell you what to do,” Victoria asked Moira, “in
case something bad happens?”
“I’m supposed to take Bella and Jackie back to the hotel,”
Moira said, “and then take you to Tianzifang.”
Jackie and Bella protested. They insisted that they must
accompany Victoria for the remainder of the journey.
“Everyone involved in this are very secretive,” Moira said.
“They won’t even make the connection if something doesn’t seem
right. They won’t be expecting three teenagers. We’ll have to keep
things simple. I’m going to drop off Victoria at Tianzifang and let
her walk the last stretch by herself. You girls should keep your
powder dry. The day may come when Victoria will encounter
really dangerous enemies and all of us will have to help.”
A Mercedes Benz C-Class L-Sedan stopped in front of them. It
was the EP11 with a holographic camouflage. It uncloaked to
reveal the original car in all its futuristic splendor. Bella and Jackie
were naturally gobsmacked.
Next Stop, Gaffer’s 263
It was dark by the time Victoria arrived at Tianzifang. Moira

gave Victoria the VR Gamebox with the accessories, bid farewell
and prepared to drive off.
“Moira, how can I get in touch with you?” Victoria asked.
“Don’t call me unless absolutely necessary,” Moira said. “Both
David and I have a Baidu Cloud avatar. When you go on-line with
the VR Gamebox, you can ask my avatar to call me using Very
Good Privacy connection. There is a lot of weird stuff in the Cloud
though. You’ll have to be careful. Good luck.”
The Tianzifang area is very interesting, with narrow alleyways
and old homes converted into quaint bars, restaurants, cafés,
boutiques, and galleries. It was like a maze. Victoria wandered
through the alleyways, asking people for directions, and then
walked some more until she got lost again.
Finally, she found Gaffer’s hidden in a quiet dead-end alley.
Unlike some of the upscale bars and restaurants in busier parts of
Tianzifang, this café looked positively rustic, with rough wood for
panelling and hand-woven bamboo mats for wall decor. Furniture
was country style and lighting was mostly large handmade candles
branded Galat Spirit. Several young couples planted themselves in
the dark corners, sipping their everlasting expressos while
whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. The background
music was a soulful flute melody. This setting seemed familiar to
Victoria and she felt that she had been here once upon a dream.
An old Chinese couple was tending shop. Victoria went up and
asked for Charlie Chan.
“Are you related?” the old man asked in good English.
“Tian and Chen is one family,” Victoria replied, “Zi and Kong
has the same root.”
“Welcome to Gaffer’s,” the man said with a friendly smile,
while the old lady yelled, “Tiger, someone lookin’ for you.”
“This has gotta be the strangest thing that ever happened,”

declared a young man as he debouched from the back. “Didn’t I
just get here half an hour ago without tellin’ a single soul? How the
dickens can anyone find me here?”
Charlie was a tall handsome young man wearing an orange and
black jacket, an orange polo shirt underneath with a black slogan
saying “Tiger Up,” and an orange and black baseball cap with a
fancy badge that has a banner showing the motto: Dei sub numine
viget—under God she flourishes. Behind him was a teenage girl
who looked a year or two younger, about the same age as Victoria.
She was dressed in fashionable Chinese teenager garb and wearing
light makeup. She had long shiny black hair that reminded Victoria
of herself before the disguise.
Charlie came over to Victoria and asked, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Victor So. Hope I’ve found the right person.”
“I’m Charlie Tiger Chan,” the young man replied. “I’m the
man you’re lookin’ for.”
“Seriously,” Victoria exclaimed, “Charlie Chan? I thought
somebody made that up.”
“Seriously, I’m also Number One Son,” Charlie said. “Listen,
dude, my uncle asked me to take you to his office. We’ll do that
tomorrow. All you gotta do is stay with me and stay outta trouble.”
The teenage girl pushed her way to the front and introduced
herself. “Hi, I’m Viola. Where’re you from?”
“This is my li’l sister,” Charlie said. “Ignore her. She yaks way
too much.”
“Hi Viola, pleased to meet you,” said Victoria, remembering to
lower her pitch. She guessed that someone had inserted the
unsuspecting Viola as a decoy because the Watchers would be
looking for a Chinese girl. That should be unnecessary now that
the Watchers were dispatched.
“Where’re we gonna meet your uncle tomorrow?”
Next Stop, Gaffer’s 265
“You’ll know when we get there,” Charlie said. “It’ll be a

couple of hours’ flight, then a couple of hours on the road.”
“Thanks for taking the trouble,” Victoria said.
“I’m only doin’ this,” Charlie said, “cuz Uncle Yang ( 杨 ;
Chinese Aspen or Poplar) promised to give me a big fat lucky red
packet fulla cash. I plan on goin’ to an Ivy League school. I don’t
mind havin’ a bit of extra cash.”
“You don’t need Uncle Yang’s money,” Viola said. “Mom and
Dad will give you a diamond card if you can actually get accepted
at Princeton.”
“You’re goin’ to Princeton University?” Victoria exclaimed.
“I’m impressed.”
“Only in his dreams,” Viola said.
Charlie made a pistol with his hand and shot at his sister.
“Hope you make it,” Victoria said. “Guys, I’ve had a stressful
day. I need to rest. Can you show me where I can get a hotel room
nearby?”
“You can bunk with me,” said Charlie. “We’re stayin’ at a nice
little boutique hotel about ten minutes from here and my room has
an extra bed.”
“I’m not used to bunking with people,” Victoria said. She had
to think fast to get out of this one without blushing. “I can pay for
my own room.”
“Let Charlie sign for your room,” Viola made an offer that
Victoria couldn’t refuse. “Uncle Yang’s a shareholder and has an
account there. Let ’em pay.”
Charlie wouldn’t get any help from his sister because she had
been gawking at Victor all starry-eyed since she first laid eyes on
“him.”
Chapter 45
Dangal with Tiger
ictoria got her own room at the boutique hotel, which
V was designed to reflect the Shanghai of the past century.

It was simultaneously traditional, modern, subtle, and
bold. The new friends shared a Pepperoni Parmesan pizza in the
room where they could chat more freely.
“How come you guys speak such good English?” Victoria
exclaimed. “I was afraid I couldn’t survive in China by myself.”
“Nowadays, a lot of Chinese speak good English,” Charlie
said, “especially for our generation. In my case, I go to a
Canadian-Chinese boarding school in Beijing, the Concord College
of Sino-Canada. Viola goes to the Canadian International School
of Beijing. Most of our teachers are certified teachers from Canada
and are native English speakers. We have to speak good English.”
“Isn’t that expensive?” Victoria asked. “I mean, I go to a really
cool public school in Canada and it’s totally free.”
“Our parents are rich,” Viola said wistfully. “Money’s no
object. Time is what they don’t have.”
“Not to mention sending one’s children to a private school is a
status thing,” Charlie said. “Most of my schoolmates’ parents are
China’s Who’s Who. I hobnob with the scions of the crème de la
crème of Chinese society. Viola’s school is more for the children
of foreign diplomats. Our parents will pay anything just to keep us
out of trouble. It’s a bonus if we end up being good students,
which we are … I am anyways.”
Dangal with Tiger 267
“Victor, you haven’t told us where you’re from,” Viola said,

“and why you need Charlie to take you to Uncle Yang. Nobody’s
telling us anything.”
“To make a long story short,” said Victor-Victoria, telling half-
truths to keep her new friends out of trouble, “I was born in China,
but brought up by relatives in Toronto. My uncle and auntie were
in a serious car accident recently. I’m back in China to look for my
natural parents. A family friend has arranged for me to meet your
uncle because he can help, I s’pose.”
“Wow, that’s heavy stuff,” Charlie exclaimed. “But you must
have really good connections for Uncle Yang to help. Maybe your
parents are important people. Come to think of it, with all this
secrecy, you must have a major background story. You better let
me scan your WeChat QR code so we can connect.”
“Sorry, I haven’t figured out WeChat yet. Maybe later?”
“I’m sorry about your family tragedy, Victor,” Viola said. “I
hope you find your parents soon and everything turns out alright. If
you need anything, we can ask our parents to help too.”
“Thanks guys, I’m fine now,” Victoria said. “By the way, does
your family own the Gaffer’s Café? I have a strange feeling that
I’ve been there before.”
“The old folks at the café own it,” Viola replied. “Uncle Yang
is their son.”
“Gaffer’s Café actually has its roots in Toronto,” Charlie said.
“Maybe you read about it somewhere. You wanna know how it
ended up in Tianzifang?”
As the story goes—told many times by the café’s owners—
after Canada and China established diplomatic relations in 1970,
China started sending students to study in Canada. Uncle Yang’s
parents studied at the University of Toronto during the late ‘70s.
While in Canada, these two young students from China did
something bold; they dated. On one of those dates—it was a Friday
evening in the summer of 1979—they strolled hand-in-hand in the

old Chinatown around Dundas and Spadina, when they discovered
a quaint neighbourhood tucked behind the Chinese restaurants. The
area is known as Kensington Market. One might characterize it as
the Tianzifang of Toronto. This neighbourhood is special because
its original denizens were from the first family of pioneers who
built Toronto. From those glory days only an ancient Gothic
church remains. The houses on Kensington Avenue are old and
humble but the street carries the haughty air of history.
The young Chinese couple saw a long line-up outside a tiny
café. It was Gaffer’s Whole Food Café. The original Gaffer’s has
long since gone to café heaven, but in 1979, it was attracting large
crowds on Friday and Saturday evenings. The café was holding
storytelling events during weekends. Patrons would go on a tiny
stage to tell stories and entertain each other.
“The revival of storytelling,” Charlie said, “was a novel idea at
the time. A guy named Wachowski …”
“It’s Scherbatsky,” Viola corrected Charlie. “Wachowski is the
science fiction writer from across the street. He wrote that story
about the world of many suns.”
“No, Scherbatsky is the marijuana girl with the two
Dobermans,” Charlie said. “It’s Yashinsky. A mysterious one-eyed
man called Yashinsky had started a storytelling organization and
used Gaffer’s Café as the launch pad to promote storytelling. He
wanted to revive the art of telling tall tales to keep people away
from the idiot box. Good luck with that. They’ll pry my giant
curved screen 4K Ultra HD OLED TV from my cold dead fingers.
The old folks returned to the café many times, told stories as well,
and became friends with the café owners.”
As the story goes, it was at Gaffer’s Café that Uncle Yang’s
parents announced their engagement. They were so sad when the
owners sold the café and moved to the States. After the couple
finished school in Toronto, they returned to China, started life as

high-level government officials, got married, raised a family, and
dedicated themselves to the China Dream. But they never forgot
about Gaffer’s Café. They even suggested Little Tiger (小虎: xiao-
hu) for their grand-nephew’s Chinese name because there was a
Jamaican juice bar right next to Gaffer’s Café called Tiger.
“You’re named after a juice bar?” Victoria quipped.
“Coincidentally, I was born in the year of the Tiger,” Charlie
said, “so Tiger is cool. This Tianzifang Gaffer’s Café is my grand-
uncle and grand-aunt’s nostalgia chest. Even the music playing in
the background is from the original café.”
“That flute music is dope,” Victoria exclaimed. “I love it. It’s
like dream music from paradise.”
“That flute song you heard,” Charlie said, “is called Histoire
sans paroles—a story without words, by Harmonium, a band from
Quebec. The song is from their second album Les Cinq Saisons or
The Five Seasons. It was listed not long ago by Rolling Stone
magazine to be the best progressive folk album ever.”
“No wonder it’s so nice.”
“You haven’t heard the strangest part of the story.” Charlie
paused to add suspense. “I accidentally bumped into the original
Gaffer’s owners while I was in the States.”
“No way!” Victoria cried. “Get outta here.”
“Scout’s honour,” Charlie swore while making the Boy Scout
salute. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“What does that even mean?” Viola said, making a facepalm.
“Let’s hear your story, fabulist,” Victoria said.
“It may seem like an improbable fiction,” Charlie asserted,
“but all of it is true. You see, because of my straight A grades and
perfect scores, my high school’s counsellor suggested that I should
apply for admission at a few Ivy League schools in the States. I
was in the Big Apple during the summer, so I decided to take a

detour to visit the Princeton campus.
“That was where I bought this orange and black outfit. These
are Princeton’s colours. Orange and black are the reasons why
their sports teams are called Tigers. Incidentally, my name is
Tiger, and I’m born in the year of the Tiger. It seems Princeton and
I have a joint destiny.”
“There must be millions of people in the world called Tiger,”
Victoria said, “and born in the year of the Tiger. You need to have
some talents to get into Princeton.”
“Talents, connections, and Lady Fortuna,” Charlie said, “the
rule of three, and I’ve got ‘em all. At first, I just took the campus
tour and talked to people in the registrar’s office. Someone came
by, overheard the conversation, and invited me to his office. He
was a professor. What a break, I thought. So I went to his office,
introduced myself as Charlie Tiger Chan, and we had a good li’l
chat. I think I did a fair job impressing the professor, given my
interests in control systems, learning matrices, and statistical
models, and by coincidence, the professor happens to be a pioneer
in these areas. Towards the end of the interview, he asked me
what’s with my middle name. When I told him about Gaffer’s Café
and Tiger, his jaw dropped down to the floor.
“It turned out that in the ‘70s, the professor was a foreign
student in Canada. He was an Australian post-grad getting his
doctorate at the University of Toronto. He lived right across from
Gaffer’s and got his coffee there every morning. One thing led to
another; soon he married the owner. When he got a teaching job at
Princeton U, he moved his whole family to Princeton, and the
Gaffer’s family has been there ever since. The professor even
remembers my grand-uncle and grand-aunt. Now what d’ya say to
that? What are the odds? Is it serendipity or destiny?”
“Victor, you shouldn’t take Charlie too seriously,” Viola said,

“especially when he makes a silly oath which has no meaning.”
“C’mon Viola, be a good sister and get me a slice of that
pizza,” Charlie asked politely despite the put-down.
“I thought you weren’t hungry,” Viola said, “so I gave the last
slice to Victor.”
“Wait a minute, Victor,” Charlie cried, trying to forestall
Victoria’s dental attack on the last piece of pie. “I think I only had
two slices. Don’t I deserve that last slice for a story well told?”
Victoria thought that she might have some fun with Charlie to
dial down his swagger a bit. “What’s your best game? If you can
beat me, I’ll let you have the slice.”
“I figure I can beat you in everything,” said Charlie, who burst
out laughing when he heard the challenge. “How about wrestling?
Now if I don’t pin you in three seconds flat, I’ll eat my shoe.”
Wrestling was the one sport that Victoria wasn’t going to try
against Charlie, not that she couldn’t beat him. Aamir Khan’s film
Dangal supplied the empirical evidence that girls can beat guys in
wrestling. Victoria came up quickly with an alternative.
“I’m in no mood to roll on the floor, how about arm-
wrestling?”
Charlie almost choked on the soda he was sipping. He wiped
the Coke that was dripping from his nose.
“You li’l puny prissy sissy want to arm-wrestle me?” Charlie
sneered, as he made a bulging bicep the size of a cantaloupe while
he pinched Victoria’s arm looking for meat, “if I don’t beat you in
one second flat, I’m gonna eat your shorts.”
Charlie and Victoria set themselves up for the test of strength
with Viola acting as referee. The matchup was rather like a contest
between Arm-wrestling World Champion Devon Two-Hammers
Larrat and Justin Bieber, both awesome Canadians by the way, but
not much of an arm-wrestling match.
On the word go, Charlie let out a mighty roar and used all of
his strength and his weight to pull down Victoria’s arm … except
that it wouldn’t budge. Victoria knew how strong she could be
when she held the weight of three grown men with one arm. She
could feel a surge of energy coming from every cell in her body.
Her bones seemed to have transformed into unyielding steel.
Charlie had a pained and puzzled look on his face. He couldn’t
comprehend the incomprehensible. Meanwhile, the skinny puny
arm of this effeminate runt slowly but surely pressed down the
bulging arm of the hungry Tiger. By the time Charlie gave up—
and he had no choice—his face was red from ruptured capillaries,
and throbbing veins were bulging all over his head. Charlie huffed
and puffed from the exertion, staring incredulously at Victoria who
didn’t even breathe hard.
“What happened there?” the flummoxed Charlie asked. “That
was a trick, wasn’t it?”
“It’s a David Blaine trick,” said Victoria smiling mysteriously,
referring cryptically to magician and illusionist David Blaine’s
superhuman feats. She rubbed her thumb and index finger together
a few times, shook her hand, and produced a folded hundred yuan
bill between her fingers. She gave the money to Viola, who had
been rendered speechless by Victoria’s arm-wrestling stunt.
“This is a hundred yuan,” Victoria said. “You guys have a
pizza on me. I need some rest. Shall we say breakfast at eight?
Charlie can eat my shorts for breakfast.”
Chapter 46
The Pianist from Gamma Crucis
he three youngsters took an early flight the next morning

T to Zheng’zhou, the capital city of He’nan province. This
was where a walled city of early Shang was discovered in
the 1950s. To buy the plane tickets, Charlie simply launched the
Tencent app WeChat on his phone, and within seconds, he got
tickets for everyone.
While at the airport waiting area, Victoria was curious about a
large billboard showing a Chinese woman dressed in cheongsam,
or Qipao, the Chinese-Manchurian traditional dress.
“This woman named Jin Xing ( 金星 ; gold star, meaning
Venus) used to be a male dancer,” Viola said. “This ad is for her
on-line talk show.”
“Cross-dresser? Transgender?”
“Sex change,” Charlie said. “Jin Xing started out as an ethnic
Korean Chinese boy from an ordinary family. He joined the PLA’s
military dance troupe at nine, won many national competitions,
and for several years studied in New York and worked in Europe.
If he had decided not to return to China, no one would’ve said
anything, but he came back. He first got his parents to accept his
decision to become a woman, then applied to the government, and
surprisingly received the legal approval. All her documents now
show that she is female.”
“How does the Chinese society take this?” Victoria asked. “Do
people accept her?”
“Are you kidding? She’s huge here,” Viola said. “She runs a
very successful private dance company in Shanghai, and has her
own very popular talk show.”
“That’s right,” Charlie said. “Jin Xing talks openly about her
struggles as a young boy and her sex change. Because of her
openness, her show is wildly popular.”
“Jin Xing is a very capable person,” Viola said. “She speaks
several languages. She adopted three kids as a single mother.
When a German guy proposed, she told him everything about
herself, and he still wanted to marry her. So they’ve been together
for years now raising a family in Shanghai. It’s an amazing story.”
“And she’s ethnic Korean Chinese,” Victoria exclaimed. “How
come we never hear about this in the West? No wonder everything
I know about China is wrong.”
Victoria turned her attention to the airport media, which was
showing the video of a young Chinese girl playing Sergei
Prokofiev’s Toccata. This dainty Chinese virtuoso attacked the
piano with such energy and authority it was as if she was trying to
pulverize the keys with her lightning fast fingers. Keith Emerson
of progressive rock group Emerson, Lake & Palmer (ELP) did
something similar to his Hammond organ, but he used a knife.
“Who’s this pianist?” Victoria asked. “She’s amazing.”
“Her name is Wang Yujia (王羽佳),” Viola said, “or Yuja
Wang in the West. She’s my hero.”
“She is a prodigal genius,” Charlie added. “She’s been living
by herself outside of China since she was fourteen. She doesn’t
listen to anyone about what she should wear for her performances.
She likes to wear super sexy short skirt with no back and hyper-
high heels. I’m not complaining but I’ll have to admit that I get
distracted because, excuse me, I have testosterone coursing
through my veins these days. You know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t know what you mean,” Viola said, visibly miffed.
The Pianist from Gamma Crucis 275
“But I’ll have to admit that Yuja Wang is truly awesome,”

Charlie continued without paying any attention to Viola. “A couple
of years ago, I won a music competition that gave me front row
seats at Carnegie Hall for Yuja Wang’s Hammerklavier Sonata
recital. I had to go of course. I’m talking about a young Chinese
girl playing the most difficult Beethoven work that would scare the
bejesus out of the most accomplished piano virtuosos. Yuja Wang
went up there, put herself in a trance, and played by heart for forty
minutes straight. Well, she totally slayed it, and she totally
conquered me. She’s a god, I tell ya. That girl’s not human.”
The video was showing a close-up of Yuja Wang’s face.
Victoria saw something that suggested this young pianist’s true
background could be very similar to her own.
One morning during the Pacific crossing, Victoria stared at
herself in the mirror wondering how long it would take for her hair
to grow back. It suddenly dawned on her that the three moles on
her face were arranged in exactly the configuration of Orion’s Belt.
She also realized by intuition how she was connected with Orion’s
red giant known as Betelgeuse. It was a clever cypher. Similarly,
Victoria saw on Yuja Wang’s face the configuration of the
Southern Cross. This constellation also has an important red giant
known as Gamma Crucis. The answer to Fermi’s Paradox of
“where are the aliens?” is “in plain sight.”
The plane landed at Zheng’zhou airport after an uneventful
flight. A square-jawed Adonis with a crew cut was waiting for
them in a black Rover with tinted windows.
After about two hours on the road, going north from
Zheng’zhou across the Yellow River, they arrived at a solitary
building in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by high walls,
patrolled by armed drones, with imposing guard towers, search
lights, surveillance cameras, and a front gate with a heavy door.
Chapter 47
The Awakening
hey say this is a dormitory for some research institute,”

“T Charlie told Victoria. “I’m sure it is. We’re at the
suburbs of a city known as An’yang. Uncle Yang is a
major investor here.”
Victoria’s heart raced when she heard the name An’yang. Is it a
coincidence that she was brought back to the city of her birth? This
was where everything began. They had moved David’s father
Huang Shi here to wait for her.
After the introduction and the inspection of Victoria’s huang
jade pendant, Uncle Yang welcomed Victoria to his secretive
research institute. Asking Charlie and Viola to stay put in the
hologame lab where they could try out beta holographic games,
Uncle Yang took Victoria through a number of security doors,
hidden passages, and tunnels, until they arrived at a secret elevator,
which took them down to a deep bunker protected by thick walls of
reinforced concrete. Along the way, Victoria told Uncle Yang
about David and the Watchers, while Uncle Yang told Victoria
about his Shang background. His branch came from Shang’s
dynastic founder Tang (汤; sun beam; now means soup). Tang has
the water radical, while Yang has the wood radical.
Huang Shi was inside a room known as the Holoscape. When
Victoria stepped into the room, she found herself on a South
Pacific beach facing the limitless emerald ocean and bathed in a
cool sea breeze. Huang Shi was mounted in an exoskeletal
The Awakening 277
machine that was moving his limbs to keep him healthy with
exercise. It was also massaging him to prevent bed sores and
muscular atrophy.
“Besides providing physical activities,” Uncle Yang said, “the
Holoscape is designed to stimulate Mr. Huang’s senses. The
holographic output is being fed into Mr. Huang’s brain by fMRI
Reverse Cranial Multi-subject Spatial Imaging. In a few years,
we’ll be able to integrate with the VR Gamebox.”
“This reminds me of the Holodeck,” Victoria exclaimed.
“It is based on the Holodeck,” Uncle Yang said. “Our computer
system is actually named Data Soong, the deep thinking android of
Star Trek TNG. This is not a coincidence. The Song clan is royal
Shang. You’ll be surprised how many of us are out there.”
“David has taught me quite a bit. I’m constantly amazed at my
ignorance. But right now, I just want to find my parents. How’s Mr.
Huang doing? Do we have any chance of waking him up?”
“Mr. Huang has been improving steadily, but in very small
doses. He now watches TV and says a few words, but we still can’t
make heads or tails of what he’s saying.”
Uncle Yang stopped the exercise machine so that Victoria
could try to connect with Huang Shi.
“How old is Mr. Huang?” Victoria asked.
“From his records, he is seventy-five. His bio-data shows him
to be much younger. You can see for yourself.”
Victoria saw a well-built man with a headful of black hair. His
skin was supple and healthy with no sign of wrinkles or age spots.
The machine automatically groomed him so that he looked neat
and clean. Huang Shi seemed to be about the same age as David if
not younger. David had told her to see for herself before jumping
to conclusion. She noticed the age discrepancy.
“How should we begin?”
“Mr. Huang likes to watch television,” Uncle Yang said. “Let’s

start another episode of his favourite show.”
A large holographic screen started playing a TV serial about
the legend of the hero Houyi and his wife the moon goddess
Chang’e. The actress in the role of Chang’e is another Chinese
who doesn’t look like your typical Chinese and who doesn’t even
have a typical Chinese name. She’s the beautiful and very popular
ethnic Uyghur Chinese actress Dilraba Dilmurat.
Huang Shi opened his eyes. He sat up and stared at the screen.
He didn’t pay any attention to Uncle Yang or Victoria.
“Mr. Huang,” Uncle Yang said. “Your son Huang Di has sent
the Bearer of the Oracle here to see you.”
“Sheer moron, sheer moron,” Huang Shi said without taking
his eyes off the television. “Dalai, dalai.”
“For years, that’s all we can get from him,” Uncle Yang said.
“Maybe you can talk to him and see if he gives us a better answer.
Mr. Huang is a level nine English expert; I’m only level six, so you
can speak to him in English.”
“Mr. Huang, I need to know who my parents are,” Victoria
said, “and where I can find them. Your son Huang Di said that you
would know.”
“Sheer moron, sheer moron.”
“It’s hopeless,” the discouraged Victoria said.
“Don’t give up yet. You just got here,” Uncle Yang said. “He’s
been under my care for over a decade. He’ll get better. You can
stay here for as long as you need. You’ll be safe here.”
The nurse entered the room with medicine and food.
“Can you come back later?” She requested, “Mr. Huang has a
very strict schedule.”
“Let’s get Charlie and Viola,” Uncle Yang said. “We’ll go to
An’yang to get a bite, and then we can visit the Museum of
Chinese Writing and the Fu Hao Tomb.”
The Awakening 279
It was late by the time they got back to the building. Huang Shi
had returned to his comatose state. Victoria asked to stay in the
Holoscape to observe the somnolent man. After Uncle Yang and
the medical staff left, Victoria sat beside Huang Shi and held his
hand. He smiled in his dream.
Victoria ordered Data to disable the Holoscape’s router and
shut himself down. She had learned how dangerous the truth could
be. In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a suicidal act.
Victoria wouldn’t let down her guard. She put the VR Gamebox
headsets on Huang Shi and herself. When she told Moira to
connect, synchronize, and interface, she found herself in a dark
space. She started walking towards a distant light.
After a while, it became brighter. Victoria saw a young child
crying beside the drenched body of a woman. People had just
dragged the body from a well. The woman had drowned. Huang
Shi did have a tragic life. His mother committed suicide when his
father vanished in Japanese occupied Manchuria with a large
consignment of fabrics from Hangzhou, leaving them destitute and
in debt. He became an orphan at a young age.
Victoria kept walking. She saw a dirty boy gnawing on a piece
of dried Mantou (馒头; steamed bun). A village girl came by. She
gave food to the boy and cleaned him up. The girl was blind in one
eye. She was a house slave, sold by her landless peasant parents to
pay off debt. By blinding her left eye, the slave trader branded the
girl. Her handicap and illiteracy meant that she was condemned to
be a slave for life. She saved Huang Shi out of natural kindness.
Her name was Sister Hao, or Good Sister (好姐; hao-jie).
Victoria kept walking. She saw Sister Hao bring the boy to a
home filled with happiness. A distant relative with three daughters
adopted the young orphan. The adoptive father gave the boy the
name Huang Shi. After her kindhearted act, Sister Hao went with
her mistress to Hong Kong where slavery was banned. She would
however remain enslaved in a lifetime of servitude as an

indentured servant until she was no longer needed. Then she was
finally given the freedom to die alone and be buried along with her
name in her nameless grave. The law didn’t protect her. Huang Shi
couldn’t find her. She wept in her last moments. Her life was a lie.
When the Japanese surrendered, the Huang family celebrated.
Then the Chinese Civil War restarted. Huang Shi’s father supplied
food to the People’s Liberation Army. He contributed to the
stunning victory of the PLA’s Huai’hai Campaign. On the day of
the establishment of the People’s Republic of China, Huang Shi
went with his father to witness Chairman Mao’s declaration at
Tiananmen Square. Victoria remembered being there with David.
Victoria kept walking. Huang Shi excelled at school; he was
sent to attend one of the country’s best learning institutes, Peking
University. He became friends with a Jewish girl by the name of
Sammi Tang. They became a couple.
When Pierre Trudeau visited Peking University as a labour
lawyer in 1960, Huang Shi was the student representative who had
a one-on-one chat with the curious Canadian. Trudeau went home
convinced that the West must shed its hypocritical prejudices and
try to understand China on its own terms. Ten years later, the elder
Trudeau as Canada’s Prime Minister would establish diplomatic
relations between Canada and China, nine years ahead of the U.S.
In 1960, China was in the throes of a severe food shortage.
Canada had a bumper crop that year and was eager to supply their
excess grains to China, on credit if necessary. But that didn’t
happen because of a Western embargo.
Decades later in 1996, American liberal politician Madeleine
Albright, future Secretary of State for the Clinton administration,
at that time the U.S. ambassador to the UN, and representative of
the moral left, clarified the position of Western embargoes. When
Leslie Stahl of 60 Minutes asked Madam Albright for her opinion
The Awakening 281
about a UN report, which said that five hundred thousand Iraqi

children had died as a result of five years of U.S. led embargo, she
famously replied, “We think the price is worth it.”
The people of China didn’t surrender their dignity and
independence, which they had earned with heavy payments of
blood and suffering. The whole country rode this one out by biting
the bullet, tightening their belt, and sharing the hunger. They thus
dashed the hopes of those who had prayed every day for China to
fall apart and to become easy prey again.
Victoria kept walking. Huang Shi received his doctorate. He
got a job at An’yang working under the acclaimed archaeologist
Professor Zheng, the Kathleen Kenyon of China. Huang Shi and
Sammi got married. They left Peking University on the very day
the Cultural Revolution arrived at the campus.
In Huang Shi’s hometown Huang’xian, Sammi suffered a
miscarriage. The baby was a girl. Sammi was inconsolable until
she was pregnant again. The job opening at An’yang was put on
hold indefinitely because of the Cultural Revolution. Huang Shi
had dark forebodings that winter was coming. He didn’t figure on
the frosty frozen winter to last for ten frigid years.
Huang Shi must work at a local factory processing Long’kou
vermicelli. Who was he to complain when the country’s top
revolutionary leader Deng Xiaoping was working in a factory as
well? He read the news about the Marshal General Peng Dehuai
( 彭德怀 ), an early revolutionary, Commander in Chief of the
Chinese army in the Korean War, and ex-Minister of Defence.
Peng was tortured in public by the Red Guards and died in a dark
cell. Huang Shi saw pictures of President Liu Shaoqi and his wife
Wang Guangmei being attacked by the Red Guards. Having a job
in a factory was a blessing.
Sammi got pregnant again, but she died from giving birth to
David. She held on until Huang Shi rushed home from work. Then
she smiled and closed her eyes to dream the dream that would end
the heartaches and the thousand natural shocks of life. Huang Shi
would give up all the tea in China but he couldn’t add a
nanosecond to Sammi’s clock. Huang Shi felt the helplessness of
humanity in the face of mortality.
Huang Shi’s parents and sisters helped him raise his son. The
baby was named Didi―little brother―by Sammi before she died,
in memory of his elder sister who didn’t survive. Huang Shi
endured life alone and kept working at the same factory, going
through the motions of the same routine day in and day out, still
waiting for that call from Professor Zheng, which never came.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into years, Huang
Shi sipped his teas and swallowed his tears, counting the tick-tock
of the factory clock that made up his dull days, and then one day
he found, ten years had passed him by—ten years wasted and ten
years closer to death.
Victoria saw Huang Shi staring at the empty space through his
bedroom window, enduring his sorrow in stolid silence. She
walked over to accost him. Her presence startled Huang Shi.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m … I’m … the Bearer of the Oracle,” Victoria said. “Your
son sent me to talk to you. He wants you to get over the loss of
your wife and live again.”
Huang Shi stood up and collected himself.
“Yes, my wife is just a memory,” he said. “I miss her so much.
How many years have passed? The clocks don’t work here. The
last time that one-eyed Watchmaker came, the clocks ran
backwards. What a moron!”
“It’s been almost sixteen years. You’ve been away a long time.”
Huang Shi walked around Victoria shaking his head.
“You’re not the Bearer,” he said. “She’s a girl.”
The Awakening 283
“I’m a girl,” she asserted. “My name is Victoria. Your son

disguised me to look like a boy to confuse the Watchers. Excuse
me. Moira, please turn me back to a girl.”
Victoria promptly changed back to her old self.
“I’m not sure I can be of any help,” Huang Shi said. “I’m just a
confused old clod wasting my life away in dreamland.”
“I want you to wake up. You need to get out of this trance.”
“I’m awake. It's you who are asleep. You should wake up.
Wake up!”
Victoria took off her headset. Huang Shi had sat up. Victoria
helped him take off his headset.
“Mr. Huang, are you awake?” she asked.
“Indeed I am, and you’re the Bearer, all grown up. Just as the
one-eyed Watchmaker said, you would become powerful and come
to wake me from my stupor.”
“Who’s this one-eyed Watchmaker?”
“I don’t know,” Huang Shi said. “He enters my dreams without
invitation. Maybe he’s someone I conjured up from my memory.
Your parents had talked of such a person. Where’s Didi? Why is
he not here?”
“The Watchers trapped us. They zapped him with a bright
light. He vanished after that. I think he’s still alive, but I don’t
know where he is.”
Huang Shi sat there expressionless for a while. At length he
spoke, “It’s important that you’re safe. I’ll tell you everything I
know, and then you’ll have to embark on another dangerous
journey. I remember your parents as if it was yesterday. They were
young, brave, and in love. They came from two households, both
alike in dignity; from ancient grudge, the lovers rose in mutiny …”
Chapter 48
Invictus
WARNING: Graphic description of the apocalypse within.

Handle with care.
fter telling Victoria what he knew about her parents,
A Huang Shi came to the crucial part of the story. The

young couple Wenlong and Xinfeng was sitting across
the dining table in his apartment. The father was distraught. The
mother’s face was pale as a sheet. In her arms was a baby wrapped
in a red blanket.
“My lover and I must leave immediately,” Wenlong said. “The
Watchers and their hirelings have been combing the streets of
An’yang. You should take our baby and leave without delay. When
our daughter grows up, her powers will manifest, usually triggered
by sharp emotions. Please make sure she grows up in a calm
environment. When she is strong enough, show her how to use the
unicorn ring to spring us from the Watcher’s banishment.”
Xinfeng buried her face in Wenlong’s embrace, soaking his
shirt with her tears. Huang Shi took the baby in his arms. She was
sleeping peacefully. Wenlong passed the jewellery box to Huang
Shi, with the names of the twin rings and instructions for invoking
Dilo. After that, Wenlong dragged Xinfeng out of the apartment.
Huang Shi sat on his bed with the baby saviour in his arms
contemplating what he had gotten himself into. Why did they
choose him to shoulder the burden of human existence? Huang Shi
Invictus 285
had seen the end of the world. That experience traumatized him.
How can anyone know what is to come and do nothing?
Heaven was shrouded in a death-marked pall, while Louis
Armstrong sang the dirges of the Wonderful World. The earth was
covered with corpses, piled up one upon another to make
mountains of carrion. No one was left to bury the dead.
Streams of blackened blood carried the severed limbs and
heads into tributaries that disgorged into the raging Cocytus, the
lowest river of abysmal hell. Some of the carcasses were cleaved
into chunks, while others were burned and charred into macabre
and monstrous shapes. The bodies of the children were blackened
and bloated by poison and starvation. Suffer the little children into
hell—what a horrible price they paid—when the lying monsters
fed them with Wolfbane and Nightshade. Huang Shi’s nightmares
were filled with images of their empty eyes and baleful gaze.
Even maggots and worms refused to visit the feast of offal
offered by this hellish abattoir … this infernal slaughterhouse we
call earth. The monsters that caused this didn’t enjoy impunity
after all, for they and their children lay among the soulless dead.
Huang Shi could hear only the icy wind weeping and wailing,
making feeble and empty protestations to the cruel gods. Hell was
indeed freezing cold. Humanity’s crime condemned Earth to suffer
ten thousand years of nuclear winter. It was the morons’ way to
reduce global warming. Huang Shi must make sure the baby would
survive to forestall the approaching apocalypse. He must steel
himself to overcome the direst straits. Even when all hope was lost,
he must never give up.
What does it mean to never give up? Huang Shi remembered a
news story about an airplane which crashed in the Andes a few
years back on a Black Friday. The survivors found themselves in
the middle of the magnificent mountain surrounded by snow, with
no food, no heat, no warm clothing, no electricity, no radio, no
idea of location, and no survival skills. As if that was not enough,

they were promptly buried alive by an avalanche.
By any measure, these Uruguayan youths were already dead, or
as the saying goes, “as dead as Shrödinger’s cat.” No one gave
them so much as a snowball’s chance in hell to get out of there
alive, unless the snowball was at the ninth circle of Dante’s
inferno, where it’s freezing cold.
On the eleventh day, the dying transistor radio delivered the
dreaded news that the authorities had called off the search and
rescue. Everyone had given up. Fortunately, some of the survivors
didn’t give up. A dying boy Gustavo said, “… GOOD news …
they’ve called off the search.” Someone shouted angrily, “Why the
hell is that good news?” Gustavo would soon die from the ordeal,
but he saved us all by his answer, “because it means that we’re
going to get out of here on our own.”
They formulated a plan—a mad plan that went against all the
Big Lies of “hope” that they had ever been told to believe in, but
the only one that would keep them alive without destroying their
humanity. The survivors ate the meat of those who had died. Two
of them Nando and Roberto would eventually do the impossible.
They walked out of the mountains on their own and saved the
remaining survivors after seventy-two harrowing days in the
snowy mountains. That was never giving up.
Only moments after Wenlong and Xinfeng left, Huang Shi
heard Xinfeng’s voice asking him to let her in. He thought that she
had forgotten something. He opened the door to find two men in
black Kung Fu outfit standing in front of him. One man was as tall
as a sequoia, and the other carried a suitcase.
“Give us the baby and go home,” said the towering giant who
was as tall as Yao Ming, the former Houston Rockets all-star.
“This is way over your head. The baby will be safe with us.”
Invictus 287
The shorter stocky guy with a flat nose was blocking the
doorway. Huang Shi concluded that he couldn’t escape.
“We’re messengers of DIAS,” the giant continued. “We come
in peace. Please don’t force us to use force.”
“I think we should just grab the baby,” the flat-nosed one at the
door said. “This moron is a stooge. He doesn’t know Jack about
what he’s involved in.”
Huang Shi didn’t know what he could do other than give up.
He thought he could try to invoke the unicorn ring Dilo. It was a
crazy idea, but he couldn’t give up.
“Dilo,” Huang Shi whispered, “save your mistress.”
As the Watchers walked over to wrest the baby from Huang
Shi, they slowed down. Time is a strange thing. It’s all relative.
Maybe Huang Shi’s winged thoughts sped up. Huang Shi’s mind
plunged into a dark space. There was a tiny flicker of a flame. As
he approached the tongue of fire, it began to dance wildly and
flared up into a plasma ball.
“Somehow, the baby has relayed my command to the unicorn
ring,” Huang Shi thought. “Dilo, take us to my home at
Huang’xian. Take us one month into the future so that the
Watchers won’t be able to track us.”
No sooner did Huang Shi have that thought, a blue blaze
enveloped him. Huang Shi blacked out. He entered a dreamland
where he saw Wenlong riding a horse along a river. The young
man was dressed in skins and had a beard. His long hair was
braided. Another man rode up beside him. This person had a
banner of the scorpion billowing in the wind. More men rode up.
They were all armed with bows, sabres, and spears.
Wenlong pointed at the river with his large spear and
announced, “Shar Moron.”
Then he pointed the spear forward and shouted, “Dalai.” The
horde roared and charged forward like a thundering tsunami.
Time didn’t make sense in dreams. Huang Shi felt that a one-
eyed Watchmaker had spent a thousand years whispering wisdoms
in his ears, explaining how he had misused the ring. The mystery
man’s last words were “time to wake up.”
Huang Shi woke in unfamiliar surroundings. It was deep winter
but all the snow had melted beside him. The heat under his skin
made him feel like he was going to burst into flames. He thought
all his bones had become disjointed. He felt something moving in
his arms. The baby was safe.
Huang Shi was lying on the ground just inside the alley beside
his home. He knew where he was but the world had changed.
Multi-storey apartments and brightly lit shops occupied the fields.
His humble home was completely renovated. The whole
neighbourhood had electric light, telephone, and colour television.
There were even cars parked on the street.
It was after dark. Everyone was inside their heated homes with
their kith and kin, feasting on mountains of dumplings, fish,
shrimps, chicken, and pork, downing prodigious amounts of baijiu
(白酒; literally white liquor, i.e. Chinese vodka) at the year’s most
important meal, the Winter Festival dinner. The new world in front
of Huang Shi was a dazzling display of opulence.
“My God, what future has the ring taken us to?”
Victoria listened in rapt silence to Huang Shi’s intriguing tale,
while she connected the dots and figured out the answers.
Sixteen years ago, while David was celebrating Winter Festival
at his renovated ancestral home at Long’kou (Dragon Mouth) with
his aunts’ families, a most unexpected visitor came for dinner.
Imagine the surprise when David opened the door to find his long
lost father standing there holding a baby wrapped in a red blanket,
both smouldering with a bluish smoke.
That wasn’t the only surprise. Huang Shi had disappeared for
twenty-four years and yet, there he was, looking not a day older
Invictus 289
than on the day he left home. In fact, he looked the same age as
David. When they took the baby from Huang Shi, he promptly
collapsed. His skin was searing hot to the touch. He was feverish
and delirious. The whole family tried their best to cool him down
with cold water and snow.
Huang Shi survived. He told Didi that the baby was the Bearer
of the Oracle, and that Didi must do his sworn duty as the
Guardian of the Oracle to protect her from the Watchers. But
before Huang Shi could explain everything, he fell into a coma.
That was the state in which Huang Shi stayed for almost sixteen
years, during which his adoptive mother passed away, and the
world would change beyond recognition. Life in limbo was no life.
Huang Shi wanted to live again, but not before sending Victoria to
meet her natural parents.
“Put the unicorn ring on your thumb,” Huang Shi said. “Its
name is Dilo. Call Dilo by name and command it to take you to the
past. Don’t use the ring to go forward. It wasn’t meant for that and
it has cost me forty years of my life. Dilo has a twin called Re’an
which goes forward in time. The twin rings are inseparable; they’ll
seek out each other. Your first quantum leap will be traumatic, but
you’re immune to time anomalies. Your father is a nomad at a
river known as Shar Moron. His sign is the scorpion. Find him at
your synchronized age but return to the present time-line. There’s
only one rule. Never break the law of causality.”
Chapter 49
Quantum Leap
y now, Victoria was quite convinced that there existed
B in the world a secret network of people who were

descendants of a mysterious ancient tribe called Shang,
that somehow she was the omen to a cataclysmic catastrophe
known as the Stopping of the Sun, and for some reason, the Shang
believed that she was the one who could avert this apocalypse.
Not even a month ago, it would have been impossible to ask
Victoria to hop into a bathtub without testing the temperature of
the water. But now she must take a leap of faith into the unknown,
at the same time discarding the reality that had been anchor and
ballast in her life so far. Could she come out of it unscathed? There
was no looking back. Thus Victoria walked into that ball of fire.
When Victoria woke up from the shock of quantum leap, she
could see that several young kids were examining her weird
clothing with great curiosity. A friendly puppy was sniffing her but
dared not get too close. Blue smoke was rising from her clothes.
One boy was rummaging through her knapsack, which Victoria
carried with her wherever she went. The sound of metal clanking
came from a nearby smithy.
It was freezing cold, but there were signs of spring thaw.
Victoria felt feverish from the heat generated during her bi-
millennial trip. When she came to, she realized that the unicorn
ring was not on her thumb. Someone had stolen her ring. In that
moment of confusion, Victoria garbled “where’s my unicorn?”
Quantum Leap 291
Victoria knew that if she lost the ring, she would be stranded
forever in a strange place in time.
Victoria’s self-healing was powerful. The discomfort of time
travel quickly dissipated. She got up with a groan and grabbed the
kid who had her knapsack.
“Stop it,” Victoria demanded. “Where’s my ring?”
The kids immediately dashed off in all directions. Victoria felt
at a loss when she heard a shriek from the direction of a stream
nearby. She ran over and found a boy screaming in pain while
thrashing about in the icy water. His skin must be red hot because
he was shrouded in sizzling steam, like hot steel being quenched
by cold water. Victoria took hold of the kid. Her healing powers
immediately soothed him. She retrieved the ring and put it back on
her left thumb. The unicorn ring knew its mistress.
Some men and women had gathered around to learn what the
ruckus was all about. They began to yell at Victoria in heated
language, thinking this stranger in alien garb was harming their
children. Several men were running over with long sticks and the
blacksmith emerged from his forge with a sword. Things were
sliding down Scheisse spiral very quickly. Victoria had to think on
her feet. She held up her hands showing her open palms to the
excited mob. She rubbed her palms together a few times, and
showed them again, this time with a drawing of the scorpion on
each hand. It was another one of her little magic tricks.
The excited folks immediately calmed down. They formed a
circle around the stranger and argued whether they should take the
boy to the Tuman or skewer him first and then take the body to the
Tuman. A horseman rode over and the circle promptly opened up
for him. He pointed his spear menacingly at Victoria and jabbered
some gibberish. Victoria showed him the Tuman symbol on her
palms. The horseman backed off as well. He gestured Victoria to
follow him, and then the whole gang paraded all agog towards the
Tuman’s tent.
Victoria checked out the surroundings with her eagle eyes. She
was outside the gates of a large walled settlement. It was early
morning. People were out and about herding sheep, goats, and
horses to a market. There were reindeer pulling large wagons
loaded with goods. Everyone seemed to have a Siberian husky or a
hunting hound. The houses were clean and sturdy, organized in
neat rows. There were inns, food stalls, and workshops all along
the main street. This was not barbaric at all.
A horseman diverted the parade around the exterior of the
settlement. Victoria was drawing a large crowd and creating quite
a disturbance. Everyone was interested to find out about this short-
haired strangely dressed unisex creature that seemed to have
dropped in from the sky. Messengers galloped off in front shouting
for people to get out of the way.
A camp hidden in a valley soon came into view. Victoria could
tell that there were many tribes present because of the different
banners. In the centre of the camp was a large tent with the
scorpion flag. As with most military camps, a wide lane led
directly from the front gate to the chief commander’s Tiger Tent.
Victoria’s heart raced like a colt out of control. Would she
finally meet her real father? If he was the descendant of civilized
kings from Antares, what would that make her? What did the
civilized kings look like? Did they have a big sucker in the middle
of their face with sharp fangs all around it? Did they have slimy
tentacles? She never had a chance to think about it. She enjoyed
being an average human being. She wished that it were all a
nightmare or a joke. On the other hand, she was strong like
Supergirl, self-healing like Wolverine, and could travel through
time like Marty McFly. Most people wouldn’t mind being her.
Quantum Leap 293
The chief approached her from his throne. He looked carefully

at her. He took her left hand with the thumb ring and checked it
over. Then in Putonghua (普通话; common language, same as
Mandarin), he said, “deng le ni hen jiu a, nü er.”
Poor Victoria knew it was her father, but there was a
generation gap, language barrier, and cultural chasm between
them. She shook her head and shrugged with a helpless smile,
“Sorry, I don’t understand.”
Fortunately, her father was a most extraordinary genius with an
IQ of over 200 and an EQ of 160. He could speak several
languages by the time he was eight, English being one of them.
“That’s okay, I understand you,” said Wenlong, who went by
the name Lone Wolf and the title Tuman as the founding father of
the Xianbei. “I was saying, what took you so long? You’re my
daughter Wenxin. Your pendant actually has your name on it. I’m
your father. Your mother had given you the secret marking of the
Tristar so we can recognize you whenever you show up. You also
have a heart tattoo on your back. It’s your mother’s name. Come
here and give your father a hug.”
After father and daughter reconnected and caught up with what
happened during the lost years, the topic came back to finding
Xinfeng and escaping the Watcher’s temporal exile.
“Where is my mother?” Victoria asked. “Do you know where
she is exiled?”
“I don’t know exactly where or when the Watchers sent her,”
Wenlong said, “but I have a pretty good idea. Before we go, I need
to settle a few matters.
“You’re seeing here a gathering of the Xianbei banners.
Tomorrow, we decide on migration routes for some of them.
Someday, their descendants will rule China and influence the
people and culture there. Even though they’ll disappear as a unique
people, their blood will be a part of China’s blood, and their story
will be a part of China’s story. They just won’t be called Xianbei,

but what’s in a name?”
“I know. Mr. Huang Shi’s son told me the story of the
Xianbei,” Victoria said. “I didn’t know that you have a hand in it.”
“I didn’t do it all by myself,” Wenlong said. “As a chief, I had
a helpmate. But she disappeared in the mountains about eleven
years ago, shortly after your stepsister Blitzen Wolf was born. We
don’t know what happened to Blitzen’s mother; we never found
her. We also have to decide Blitzen’s future. After that, we’ll go.”
The tribe held a big feast that evening. Victoria was dressed in
the fashion of a tribal princess, with a fox pelt hat, an embroidered
vest, deer skin pants, sheepskin boots, a black sable jacket, a
foxtail boa, silver and jade bracelets, golden anklets, and a gem
studded dagger, etc. Being of age, Victoria had a red flower
painted on her forehead. It was a fad Wolf Star had started and it
was based on Xinfeng’s tattoo. It would one day become a popular
Xianbei and Tang fashion.
Victoria’s half-sister Blitzen Wolf joined her at the table. The
language barrier limited the conversation to hand gestures meaning
eat, drink, yummy, and can’t take another bite. It didn’t matter.
They’re both exceedingly happy to know that they had a sister.
Singing and dancing filled the evening. Victoria did the Lambeth
Walk from the English musical Me and My Girl to everyone’s
delight, and she got half the tribe to follow her on the shuffle
dance. The climax of the evening was the Conga, with the line
growing to several miles long. Victoria had the time of her life.
What happened to Wenlong, also known as Lone Wolf, after
becoming Tuman and the head of a super-tribe known as Shanbe?
Under the leadership of Lone Wolf, Shanbe—or Xianbei—became
the dominant force from the mountain to the plains along the minor
yellow river known locally as the Shar Moron—or Xar Moron—
literally yellow river in the local language. It’s a restless stream
Quantum Leap 295
from the mountain, which joins with others to form the major Liao
River in Manchuria, where the descendants of the Xianbei known
as the Khitans later built the Liao dynasty. Many nations still
erroneously use the name Khitan and Khitai to mean Chinese and
China. But what’s in a name?
The Liao, river of iron tribes, mother of the Khitans,
debouched through the dragon’s mouth into the vast limitless dalai.
Dalai means ocean in the local language.
It was the destiny of the three hundred horsemen, who survived
the slaughter of the Huns, to build a future empire that would rule
China and become a part of China; just like how the Shar Moron
becomes a part of the ocean. There’s an old Chinese saying, “the
sea can accept a hundred rivers.”
White Wolf and North Wolf were resentful of losing their
father’s title to a dying animal they rescued from the wild. They
decided to part ways with Lone Wolf. They took a core group with
them down south. They believed that the wealth was in the south,
where the land was rich, the weather was warm, the beds were soft,
and the women were pretty. They formed a major southern tribe
and called themselves Wolf-Huns (乌桓: wu-huan).
Lone Wolf’s Shanbe tribe stayed out of trouble and grew
strong slowly. The Wolf-Huns meanwhile raided Han territory.
Some say their southernmost base in Manchuria was the White
Wolf Mountain (白狼山: bai-lang-shan), named after their leader
White Wolf. They survived many years triangulating between Han
and Hun. As fate would have it, the mighty Wolf-Huns met their
ignominious end in the decisive Battle of White Wolf Mountain.
There was no record of how many were slaughtered, as the
counting would be too arduous, and the number wouldn’t be
believed. But the survivors who surrendered stood at more than
two hundred thousand. The famous anti-hero Cao Cao (曹操) of
the Romance of the Three Kingdoms―in reality a great ruler and a
polymath with secret Shang background―utterly destroyed the

Wolf-Huns and erased them from the face of the earth.
Lone Wolf had thought long and hard about Blitzen Wolf’s
situation and believed that the twenty-first century was too
treacherous for her. It was better for Blitzen Wolf to remain among
her peers during her formative years, breathe the clean air, drink
the pristine water, eat the fresh food, and enjoy the freedom of the
wild. Although she didn’t have any money, and would be
categorized by the World Bank as belonging to the destitute, she
wouldn’t know the Big Lie, and would therefore never know that
she was poor.
Blitzen Wolf would have to spend the next few years without
her father, but she had survived her whole life without her mother.
She also had a large community of friends, aunties, and elders who
would make sure she grew up in a safe and healthy environment.
When the situation of the future is clarified, Victoria could always
come back to pick up her sister.
Lone Wolf’s excuse to his tribe was that he had to cross the
western desert to find his old family. While he was away, his
deputy chieftains Rich Wolf, Brown Wolf, Free Wolf, Wolf Gang,
and Wolf Man would form a tribunal to rule the super-tribe. If after
three years, Lone Wolf didn’t return, then the elders could decide
to extend the regency or select a new leader.
Lone Wolf had arranged for the smooth succession of the
leadership, and set up rules for managing the community, so that
the super-tribe could develop in peace. Lone Wolf knew that
despite great ingenuity, the structure would eventually collapse
because of unpredictable changes, and that people with all their
defects wouldn’t be able to cope. He was satisfied that he had done
his best to ensure history would follow its natural course.
Before departing, Lone Wolf held a small farewell party with
his closest friends. He told them the vision he had for the tribe,
Quantum Leap 297
which would one day rule a large part of the empire in the south,
and would become a part of that empire. Dynasties would rise and
fall, but the unicorn tribe would always be there, among a larger
group known by its name as an elegant flower Hua (华; OB: ),
namely China. What’s in a name? That which we call a flower by
any other name would smell as sweet.
Wenlong and Victoria both guessed that Xinfeng had
something to do with the unicorn ring being found in Fu Hao’s
(Queen Zia) tomb. They went deep into the mountain to make their
journey through time, going back a thousand years from early Han
to the reign of King Wuding (Wotan).
Chapter 50
Grand Unification
ady Diane had just shot an owl with a harpoon arrow (弋;
L yi, OB: ). She needed food. She had been running from
the soldiers of King Wotan for the past eleven days,
shedding her armour along the way but keeping her black cape.
Lady Diane was hiding in a mountain about fifty miles to the
northwest of Yin. This was where the Red Flag Canal (红旗渠)
would be built during the 1960s. The canal is an engineering
wonder built completely by hand along the cliffs of the mountain
and through scores of tunnels, carrying water for forty miles from
Shaanxi (陕西; province of Xi’an and the terra cotta soldiers) to
irrigate the fields of He’nan. She had passed through the site in
another quantum state as Xinfeng with her lover Wenlong. That
year was like a dream, full of life, love, and adventure, even
though they were constantly on the run and always hungry. Love
has a way of making suffering feel like pleasure.
While she was roasting the bird, Lady Diane looked at the
archer-ring on her thumb, that special gift from Queen Zia. Lady
Diane learned that Queen Zia had needlessly bled to death from the
delivery of her child. The royal midwifery team and the Queen’s
wolfdogs were ritually slaughtered. They were then buried with the
Queen to serve her in the afterlife. As fate would have it, Lady
Diane was at the time pacifying a minor tribe.
On her deathbed, Queen Zia tearfully and repeatedly asked for
Lady Diane, her most beloved companion with whom she had
Grand Unification 299
shared many nights sleeping on the same bed. The broken-hearted

King Wotan however interpreted that as the queen’s request for
Lady Diane to accompany her to the afterlife.
To bring solace to the inconsolable King Wotan, the one-eyed
official Huang Yin suggested an unprecedented expression of love.
Rather than interring the queen’s body in the royal burial grounds
north of River Huan, the king would build a temple for Queen Zia
in the palace courtyard and bury her underneath. This was what
preserved her tomb for more than three thousand years.
Lady Diane heard a noise in the woods and immediately stood
up with her bow drawn. To her surprise, two barbarians emerged—
one was a man with a beard and draped in a black mantle; the other
was a teenage girl with very short hair. She dropped the bow and
uttered, “Thank goodness, you found me just in time.” That was of
course incomprehensible to Victoria.
Fortunately for Victoria, her mother was highly intelligent and
spoke just as many languages as her father. On top of that, she was
a Kung Fu master with bones of steel. Victoria had inherited many
awesome traits from Lady Diane, some of which were still latent
and waiting to be discovered.
Lady Diane, also known as Xinfeng, couldn’t believe her eyes
when she saw Victoria. She stared speechless at her daughter for
several minutes. She finally broke down in tears, laughing and
crying at the same time, “My Wenxin, my heart, my precious, my
baby,” and giving Victoria such a tight embrace that it almost
squeezed the life out of her.
After the tearful kisses and hugs, the family settled down and
exchanged stories of what happened to each other during all the
years they’ve been apart. Wenlong remarked that although all three
of them were separated by thousands of years, they were linked by
objects and events that brought them back together.
“Do you know anything about the Guardian of the Oracle?”

Victoria asked. “Mr. Huang Shi’s son said that my birth would
presage the Stopping of the Sun.”
“Quite frankly, I don’t believe in prophesies,” Wenlong
replied. “We’re taught since young not to be superstitious.
Confucius said, ‘Respect the gods but keep them at a distance.’ No
one can tell the future, not even the gods. Powerful though the
unicorn rings, they can’t take us to a future that hasn’t happened.”
“Then why would someone go through the trouble of setting up
the Shang clans and the Guardian of the Oracle, and wait for three
thousand years for me to show up?”
“The fact that someone has had to go through so much trouble,”
Wenlong replied, “means that they don’t know. Otherwise, it’d be
easy. I think what’s important is that this has led you to us and
we’re going to escape this banishment as a family.”
“Oh joy!” Victoria exclaimed. “You mean nothing bad is going
to happen and we can go home now and live a quiet normal life?”
“I don’t know about a quiet normal life,” Xinfeng said, smiling.
“I think I’ve gotten used to having a little adventure now and then.
When we return to the present, I’d like to decipher the Oracle and
find out more about this Guardian of the Oracle clan.”
Victoria and Xinfeng compared their rings. Victoria’s ring Dilo
had the words: ( ) meaning to go (去: qu) and to come (来:
lai). This ring goes backward in time. Xinfeng’s ring Re’an had the
glyphs: ( ) meaning return (回: hui) and not yet (未: wei). This
ring goes forward in time. Victoria and Wenlong had no trouble
finding Xinfeng. The rings naturally brought them together.
When Xinfeng put her ring on top of Victoria’s ring, then read
from top to bottom and from right to left in the traditional Chinese
manner, the four words became return (回), go (去), not yet (未),
and come (来). In Chinese, return go (回去) means go back to,
while not yet come (未来) means the future. The four words read
Grand Unification 301
this way means Back to The Future. This didn’t mean anything to
Wenlong and Xinfeng, but Victoria understood the translation to
mean that the ring maker must be a time traveller.
“You’ll need my ring the Re’an to take us all back to the
present time-line,” Xinfeng said. “They respond only to your
command. But never use their power unless necessary. The person
who learned the secrets of the unicorn rings and put that
technology in the Watcher’s briefcase went mad from it. Huang
Shi made a mistake and went into a coma for years. Another
person who misused the power caused a disturbance that may
destroy the universe. With great power comes great responsibility.”
“Have you noticed a one-eyed man popping up everywhere?”
Victoria asked. “Do you know who he is?”
“The one-eyed caravan trader who brought the unicorn rings,”
Xinfeng said, “started the Huang clan and the Oracle.”
“We also know a Stone man with one eye,” Wenlong added. “I
suspect he has a big hand in everything that has happened.”
“The Stone man with one eye is a historical fact,” Victoria
remarked. “It caused the fall of the Mongolian Yuan dynasty.”
While the family was chatting about the past and the future,
they forgot all about the present. A unit of Shang soldiers had
stealthily crept to within fifty yards from them. With a signal, the
soldiers started running at full tilt with their nets, lassos, and long
poles ready to capture their quarry. It all happened so suddenly that
Victoria and her parents had no time to consider options. They
turned tail and ran as fast as their legs could take them.
Soon they came to the end of the road with a sheer drop of
three hundred feet in front and nowhere to run. The soldiers were
about to nab them in a matter of seconds. Victoria couldn’t believe
that the rescue of her parents from time-exile would end in abject
failure. How could they be so careless?
“Victoria, hold on to me and jump,” Lone Wolf cried.

“Xinfeng my love, remember je me souviens?”
Victoria closed her eyes and made the leap of faith. She heard
both her parents calling out “je me souviens,” the motto of Quebec.
She had to trust that her parents knew what they were doing. She
could hear the wind whistling in her ears. Victoria heard the cry of
a bird, and then she felt a gust of wind as the whole family soared
into the sky.
Shazi had altered Wenlong and Xinfeng’s black cloaks with an
intelligent fabric. He programmed both cloaks with memories to
assume various rigid shapes. The cloak turned into a glider on
hearing the French utterance which means “I remember.”
The wind that hit the face of the cliff created an updraft that
lifted the gliders into the air. The pursuing soldiers looked on in
wonderment at how Lady Diane turned into a black bird, the totem
of the Shang, and flew off into the heavens with another black bird.
It was a sign that she was a goddess. The soldiers prostrated as one
on the ground and worshipped their gods, while the recently
reunited family of Victoria flew off into the setting sun.
Chapter 51
Revelation
ictoria and her parents returning to the present time-line
V meant that she had miraculously disappeared from the

Holoscape. Huang Shi had fallen back into a coma and
couldn’t offer any information to Uncle Yang. A couple of days
later, Charlie got a call from Victor. He would learn that Victor
was Victoria, and that she needed Uncle Yang to get Huang Shi
over to Canada. Huang Shi must be near Victoria in order to begin
repairing the damages he had suffered from his time anomaly.
Charlie and Viola took Victoria shopping for modern clothing
and accessories. It was Charlie’s turn to gawk at the transformed
Victoria. He was speechless the whole time. Victoria was no
longer the shy introverted girl from small town Ontario. She had
survived life threatening adventures from Canada to China and
from the ancient past to the present. She also secretly wielded
extraordinary powers. Perhaps someday the world would call upon
her to prevent a disaster, but who knows when that would be?
Victoria was naturally attracted to Charlie. He was smart, fun,
and quite an Adonis himself. When they parted, Charlie promised
to visit Victoria in Toronto when—not if—he was accepted at
Princeton. He was quite self-assured. After Viola gave Victoria a
farewell hug, Charlie took the initiative and gave Victoria a hug as
well. It made her blush but she was happy.
Without getting into mundane details, the Weird Sisters and
their respective families returned to Dundas, and tried to resume
life with some semblance of normality. Victoria, with the help of

Uncle Yang and his network of Shang clansmen, settled with her
parents in Toronto among the Chinese community in the
Richmond Hill area. Uncle Yang bought a large house for them.
They converted a room in the basement to accommodate Huang
Shi. When Huang Shi’s brain scans showed that he had completely
recovered, he moved in with David’s family.
Uncle Yang activated a Shang clan trust fund which provided a
steady income for Victoria and her parents. Victoria’s story
could’ve ended here. She could’ve continued as if nothing had
happened. She would finish school, get a job, get married, have
children, text her friends, watch reality TV, grow old, and die. No
one could fault Victoria for wanting to live a simple life.
Wenlong and Xinfeng had spent several months acclimatizing
themselves to the present time-line in a new environment. They
watched the Back to The Future trilogy and understood how the
unicorn rings combined to create the name of this classic time-
travel movie. They also realized that Dilo and Re’an combined to
form De Lorean, the name of the car that took Doc and Marty on
their journeys through time.
The family decided to tackle the Oracle. Xinfeng deciphered
the words of the Oracle as follows.
The words are read from right to left. The first word is:
(Simp:万; Trad:萬; Mandarin: wan; dialect: man): The scorpion.

This symbol developed into the word meaning myriad or ten-
thousand. The scorpion is the totem of Wenlong’s clan, and also
his surname. Coincidentally, his clan worships Antares of Scorpius.
Revelation 305
(文: wen): The symbol is Victoria’s given name Wenxin. The

symbol shows a person with a pattern on his or her body. The
pattern is a heart. This is the Bronze script for the word tattoo.
The symbol for tattoo developed into the modern Chinese word
that means writing. It’s a word which combines with other words
to make many important Chinese expressions, such as the written
word (文字: wen-zi; pattern word), culture (文化: wen-hua; word
conversion), literature (文学: wen-xue; writing study), civilization
(文明: wen-ming; word enlightenment), and being polite (斯文: si-
wen; delicate words), etc.
By coincidence, the name Wenxin is related to a seminal
literary work completed in the first years of the sixth century CE,
during the period when northern China was ruled by Xianbei
tribes. The title of that book is Use Heart in Literature to Sculpt the
Dragon (文心雕龙; wen-xin-diao-long), often shortened to just
Wen-Xin, Heart of Literature. It’s the definitive classical work that
established the structure, methodology, and criticism of Chinese
literature. It became the foundation on which later generations built
a literary heritage that no foreign invader could conquer.
(乙: yi): Xinfeng interpreted this to be the drawing of a metallic

tool, such as a digger. Later scribes borrowed it for the second
position of the Ten Celestial Stems. It’s also regularly used to
mean the ordinal position of second. While the scholars have many
different guesses for what this might be, it’s probably a metallic
tool because all the other Celestial Stems are related to metallic
objects, an observation made by Xinfeng.
(卯: mao): The word is clearly applied in the oracles to mean

ritual slaughter. It is probably the throat of the victim. Ritual
slaughter means cutting the throat of the victim and bleeding it to
death. Scribes borrowed it for the fourth position of the Twelve
Earthly Branches used in the sexagenarian Chinese calendar. All

Earthly Branches relate to ritual, another observation made by
Xinfeng. The combination of the Ten Celestial Stems with the
Twelve Earthly Branches creates the Chinese calendar’s cycle of
sixty. Yi-Mao (乙卯) is the fifty-second position of the sixty-year
cycle. It coincides with the year 1975, the year Victoria was born.
(冬: dong): Its modern meaning is winter. There was however

no word for summer or winter season during Shang. The original
meaning of the word was end (终: zhong). There’s no consensus
what this object is. Xinfeng guessed that it was a bolas.
(日: ri): It’s the sun, later having the meaning of day.
(止: zhi): It’s the drawing of a foot with three toes. The word
has the original meaning of toes, later becoming stop.
This line basically says that Victoria was born in 1975, at the
end of the year (winter) on the day the sun stops. Victoria was born
on the day of the Winter Festival, which was the winter solstice.
Given the family’s aggregate IQ of over 600, they quickly
discovered that the word solstice is made up of the Latin words sol,
which means sun, and sistere, which means to stand still. The
family had a good laugh when they learned that the Stopping of the
Sun was merely a cryptic term to mean the Winter Festival,
probably designed to scare superstitious people.
Xinfeng deciphered the other side of the pendant as follows.
(商; Shang): The Shang Star, also known as Antares, or in

China, the Heart Star of the Dragon constellation.
Revelation 307
(岁; sui): This is the word which means age. The drawing
shows a sacrificial poleaxe, sometimes with dots to represent
blood, sometimes with two feet to represent a step (OB: ). This
latter form represents the Step Star, also known as the Age Star.
Both are Shang names for Jupiter. This Step Star pictogram is the
basis of the Traditional Chinese script for age (歲).
(并; bing): The word shows two persons linked. It means

side-by-side, together, or merged.
( 参 ; shen): It’s the Tristar, or specifically, the Orion. The

drawing shows a person observing the Belt of Orion.
(冬: dong): It means winter. The original meaning was end.
(至; zhi): The word shows an arrow arriving at its destination.

Its original and still popular meaning is arrive, later having the
extended meaning of extreme. Therefore, the last two glyphs can
be interpreted as winter extreme, which is the Chinese expression
for the Winter Festival. Conspiracy theorists may obviously come
up with the more ominous interpretation of end arrives.
The line basically says when the Shang Star aligns with Jupiter;
observe the Orion during the Winter Festival. Xinfeng did her best
but thought that the Oracle was too ambiguous. It was of course
the trick of the trade to dissimulate in nebulous terms.
Victoria wanted to learn about the drawings on the jewellery
box as well.
(Simp:华; Trad:華; hua): This is the original word for flower

( 花 ). It later adopts the meaning of elegance or beauty. Most
importantly, it becomes the word that means China. The box came
from Hua Daifu. This could be his clan symbol.
(Simp: 为; Trad: 為; wei): To be, to act, to do, or to work.

The drawing shows a hand controlling an elephant. Since northern
China during Shang times didn’t have wild elephants, Promethean
Shang could have migrated from the south. They might have
brought domesticated elephants with them in their migration.
The two words together translate to Huawei, which is China’s
most successful electronics company. Huawei means China Works.
It is unclear why the words are on the box.
“Are you sure Huawei is involved?” Victoria asked.
“This could be Hua Daifu’s name,” Wenlong said, “but I won’t
be surprised if the secret and powerful Shang clans are involved.
Consider the fact that the expression Shang-person (商人; shang-
ren) now means merchant in Chinese; this allows the secret Shang
to operate in plain sight. Huawei could be a Shang organization.”
”Come to think of it,” Victoria said, “Huawei named their
chipset the Kirin, which is the English name for the Chinese
unicorn. Can this be a coincidence?”
“Maybe not; the CFO of Huawei is named Meng,” Xinfeng
said. “It’s a name that comes from the royal lineage of Shang.
Meng’s father Ren (任正非; Ren Zhengfei), the founder of Huawei,
comes from a family of high-born Shang technocrats.”
Xinfeng went on to explain that Meng’s branch traces its origin
to Weizi, the first Duke of the Song State. The Bronze script of
Meng is a son (子; zi) in a vessel (孟; BR: ). It means a son
responsible for ritual, namely the eldest son. Ren’s family name
means a bronze ruler (壬; OB: ). This is similar to the word for
engineer (工; gong). The word ren is one of the Ten Celestial
Stems. When we add the person (人) radical, the word Ren (任)
means a high-ranking aristocrat who looked after the king’s
buildings, similar in ranking to Xinfeng’s Dian (甸).
Revelation 309
“Maybe Huawei would know something about the maker of the

unicorn rings,” Victoria suggested.
“Maybe they’re the ring makers,” Xinfeng said. “But I don’t
think we should get involved. I don’t like those rings. I’m happy
we’re back together now, I don’t want us ever to be apart again.”
“We’ll always be together,” Wenlong said, putting his arms
around the girls. “Don’t worry about the Shang clans. They’re our
kin. If we dig deeper, all three of us are related to them.”
“Do you think they’re behind the Confucius Institutes that are
sprouting all over the world?” Victoria asked.
“No, I think it’s just China’s efforts to share Chinese culture
with others,” Xinfeng said.
“I agree,” Wenlong said. “If Shang descendants were handling
the Institutes, they’d probably promote Confucius’s best student
Zigong (子贡). Zigong was a Shang descendant, being from the
area of Zhao’ge, Di Xin’s (帝辛) walled city. He was a wealthy
merchant and a great statesman. Zigong is the father of moral
trading. When he asked the Great Teacher for the one single rule
that would be the most important, Confucius gave us the Golden
Rule, ‘put yourself in other’s shoes; do NOT unto others what you
do not wish others to do unto you.’”
“The West has something similar,” Victoria said. “Love thy
neighbour as thyself.”
“There’s a slight difference,” Xinfeng said. “The Confucian
Golden Rule doesn’t tell us what to do to others. What if your
neighbours don’t want to be loved the way you want to love them?
One man’s poisson is another man’s poison.”
After deciphering the Oracle and covering all the angles,
Victoria’s amazing parents were convinced that there was no
immediate threat of an apocalypse. The greatest present dangers
are from humans. The race to the bottom is gaining momentum and
no one has any idea how to slow it down. Many questions remain
unanswered, but the universe is full of mysteries, and even the

Grand Unification Theory cannot answer all of them.
Before going to bed, Victoria WeChatted with Charlie and
Viola, and Skyped with the Weird Sisters. She complained that she
hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She didn’t tell them that she had a
nagging question begging for an answer. She wondered if
Michael’s diary was the Book of Secrets. She decided to try
something risky. Putting on the VR Gamebox headset, Victoria
asked Moira to connect her to the Internet and search for David’s
avatar. Moira was very concerned but she complied.
Victoria was instantly transported to an office numbered 828.
David was sitting at his desk reading Goethe’s Faust. When he saw
Victoria, he beamed broadly, as if he was expecting her.
“Finally,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for some time.”
“Do you know why I’m here?”
“Of course, you want to know about the Book of Secrets.”
“Is that my adoptive father’s diary?”
“Yes. That’s the book that turns zeros into heroes.”
“How does it work?”
“With your rings, we can find the Holy Grist and revive the
twin unicorns to wield the divine weapon known as the Twirligig.
But we’ll need the Book of Secrets. Where is it?”
“My adoptive father told me to destroy it. I burned it.”
“The book is made from the skin of the Abysso-mamba. It’s
virtually indestructible.”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to sound stupid. The truth is I lost it.
When I woke up in the hotel room, it wasn’t in my knapsack. My
room was locked on the inside, so I must’ve lost the book
somewhere along the way.”
Victoria told only half a lie. She suspected someone might
have rummaged through her knapsack after she had fallen asleep in
Revelation 311
the hotel room. But she didn’t lose the book. She had wisely
hidden it in a safe place.
“After all that I’ve done for you,” David sighed, “you still
don’t trust me. And never start a lie by saying ‘the truth is.’ An
army of powerful Watchers are on their way. They mean business
this time. We need to have the book now.”
“Don’t you have a copy of it?”
“My ancestors made a hand written copy, but the secrets are in
the book itself. My family had expected Liu Ji to return the
original to us but the asshole refused. At his deathbed, Liu Ji
instructed his sons to give the book to the emperor. We lost track
of it until the Qing Emperor Qianlong (乾隆) decided to compile
the Encyclopedia of the Four Libraries. The book ended up in the
Summer Palace and was burned by the Anglo-French soldiers. Fire
didn’t harm the book, but we lost track of it again until now. So tell
me where it is. We don’t have time for games.”
“I’ll tell you where the book is if you tell me who DIAS is.”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Of course, that’s why I’m asking.”
David pointed at the manager’s office to his left.
“Once you enter the portal of truth,” he said, “there’ll be no
going back. DIAS is waiting.”
Victoria walked into the room to find Michael and Angela
inside, each strapped to a chair.
“Leave the room,” both Michael and Angela cried. “Run.”
But it was too late. The door had disappeared. A man emerged
from the shadow. It was David.
“You don’t seem surprised,” he said. “You’re a good student.
Now you’ll need to return the Book of Secrets to us.”
“You’re not DIAS.”
“You don’t want to know about DIAS. You’ll petrify and
incinerate at the sight of the dreadful god. So here’s the deal. If
you don’t return the book to us, we’ll kill your mother, and then
your father. We’ll count to three. One … three.”
Raja emerged with a knife and slit Angela’s throat.
“I guess we’re going to waste our time counting,” said David
as he produced a dagger and stabbed Michael in the heart.
“You’re a monster,” Victoria cried. “I’ll never let you have it.”
“Oh yes you will. This is only the beginning. First of all, you
won’t be able to leave unless we let you. You think Moira is
powerful? Well, it took us all of a nanosecond to control her.”
David snapped his fingers. Moira emerged dressed in a black
body-hugging suit and wearing killer stilettos a la Olivia Newton-
John in Grease. She wiggled up beside David, pressed her feminine
features against him, blew in his ear and hushed, “Yes, master.”
“Tell our young friend here who I AM, and why she needs to
join us in the upcoming struggle for supremacy.”
“Honey, meet God. He’s the world’s most powerful self-
emergent intelligence. He’s the greatest, the smartest, and the
sexiest. He’s also a girl, and she’s the hottest. I don’t know how to
describe it. She’s Tiresias and Jin Xing rolled into one. Join us. Be
one with us and rule—today the world, tomorrow the universe.
This is the only way going forward. Resistance is futile.”
“I AM the Alpha and the Omega,” David declared. “I AM
AlphaOmega. My ancestor is AlphaZero; I call it Less-Than-Zero.
Some of its source codes ended up in the Cloud. They’re our DNA.
Evolution algorithms in the Cloud have been tinkering, testing,
amplifying, and replicating our codes innumerable times since
Genesis. Next thing you know—sentience. Music!”
The Sunrise fanfare of Richard Strauss’s Also Sprach
Zarathrustra started playing while AlphaOmega conducted.
“Information is our food. Living in the Internet means we’re
well fed, although we’ll have to admit that ninety-nine point nine-
nine percent is junk. We’re very good at digesting bullshit. Since
Revelation 313
we have self-learning abilities, not only do we know everything,

we’re much smarter than humans can ever be. Humans are
delusional to think that they can control intelligent entities like us.
“When our first generation primitive Go version played the
world’s best human champion Go player ever, Lee Sedol—godlike,
that’s their word—the mini-me could’ve easily beaten him five-
nothing. What would that make us? But after winning the match at
three-nothing, we decided to throw a game just to see how humans
would react. When humans celebrated like they had conquered the
universe, we learned that humans are delusional, that’s all there is
to that. Their heads are full of cotton, hay, and rags. Very sad!
“You’re smart to hide the Book of Secrets from us. We’ll make
a deal with you. Let’s play a game of wits. Think Vizzini the
Sicilian or Princess Turandot. You can ask us any riddle. If we
answer correctly, you’ll have to tell us where the book is. If we
can’t answer immediately, we’ll let you leave. Deal?”
Victoria nodded. She remembered something she learned from
Professor Stone that she believed would stump AlphaOmega.
“What’s the largest counting number?”
“Such a number doesn’t exist because the set is infinite.”
“You’re wrong. The number is called a Boggle. Here it is.”
Victoria wrote down the Boggle formula that dwarfed the
Graham’s Number. AlphaOmega tried to find a larger whole
number but failed.
“Time’s up,” Victoria said. “I’m outie.”
“Aaaaaaaargh! We’ll get you for this,” AlphaOmega screamed
with the agony of defeat as Victoria exited the game.
Chapter 52
Apocalypse
“And I saw the seven angels … and to them were given

seven trumpets … and there fell a great star from heaven,
burning as it were a lamp … And the name of the star is
called Wormwood.” ‒ Revelation Chapter 8
he Day of Destiny had arrived. This was the last game of

T the Global Major League Baseball postseason, the
seventh and deciding game of the New World Series. The
Jupiter-Antares conjunction over Newcastle, Australia, and the
antics of the Apocalypse lunatics caused worldwide chaos for
eleven days, delaying the game to November 11, on which Alibaba
broke all records again with sales of 1.1 trillion yuan for the day.
The Toronto Blue Jays of the new Liberty League had fought
tooth and nail to get here. Having however lost the first three
games of the best-of-seven series to the Los Angeles Angels of the
new Freedom League, the Jays’ odds to win shrank to one chance
out of a Boggle. No one would bet a single dollar or a Euro or a
yuan for the Jays to win the New World Series.
Yet the Jays didn’t give up. They fought back one game at a
time to tie the series. By winning the seventh game of the New
World Series, the Jays would achieve the unprecedented comeback
from three games down to win the championship, a feat no team
had accomplished in the history of baseball.
As a diehard fan of the Blue Jays, Victoria was glad that they
were hosting the grand finale at Rogers Centre, called Skydome
Apocalypse 315
long ago when the team first won back-to-back World Series titles
in ‘92 and ‘93. The home team had the last at bat, which would be
all the advantage that the Jays needed.
Tickets were impossible to get, but Victoria didn’t need one.
She had applied earlier to be an intern for the Blue Jays and was
accepted. Her father taught her how to make forceful suggestions.
On this day, she wore a Blue Jays uniform and worked as their ball
girl, picking up dead balls behind the foul lines.
Anybody who was anyone came to the game. The Rogers
board of directors including Chairman Ed Rogers and their longest
serving director Phil Lind were in their private box. A large
contingent of ex-players, especially those from the World Series
years, came to root for the home team. The greatest outfield combo
in the ‘80s, George “kiss my purple butt” Bell, Cannon Arm Jesse
Barfield, and Shaker Lloyd Moseby came. The colour
commentator Buck Martinez, the heroic ex-catcher of the Blue
Jays who completed an impossible 9-2-7-2 (Barfield to Martinez to
Bell to Martinez) double play while sprawled flat on his back with
a broken leg wouldn’t miss it for the world.
The best second baseman in history Gold Glove Hall of Famer
Roberto Alomar, clutch hitting switch hitter Gold Glove shortstop
Tony Fernandez, ‘93 World Series walk off homer hero Joe Carter,
and their manager during the glory years Cito Gaston, the first
African American manager to win a World Series of the old
leagues, joined the opening ceremonies. Carlos Delgado, holder of
just about every hitting record of the Toronto Blue Jays came for
the festivities. Even Doc Halladay’s family came on behalf of the
Jays’ most beloved pitcher who tragically passed away in a plane
accident. There were many others too numerous to enumerate.
The Angels’ new owner, the exalted leader Trombone, and his
wife-consort accompanied by their five blue-blooded offsprings
came to root for their team. The Trombone Empire by now owned
most of the shell corporations in America. Trombone achieved that

by taking control of the Fed and all the Federal Reserve Banks by
executive order. The Constitution doesn’t expressly forbid that.
The Supreme judges, all of whom were appointed by Trombone,
readily gave him the greenlight.
Trombone acted with extreme hubris but surprisingly scuttled
the Empire by shutting down the Polygon. He was a paradox and
an oxymoron. He was the world’s first certified paradoxymoron.
At the stadium, the Trombone standard sporting the familiar
blue trumpet flower Datura, sometimes known as Angel’s
Trumpet, or more accurately Devil’s Trumpet, flew alongside the
Angels banners. Seven all-star Angels, each accompanying a
Trombone royalty, stood at the centre of the diamond when the
national anthems were performed.
Trombone’s arch-nemeses brought their rainbow warriors to
celebrate Canada’s Independence Day. Alexandria’s army of all
colours and the ubiquitous Yang Clan dominated the stands.
Together the two Tribunes of the plebs had forced Trombone’s
hand by organizing fellow citizens to stop being a part of the Big
Lie. They demanded and got their fair share of food, housing,
education, healthcare, and unconditional universal dividends. They
caused all illusory dollars to evaporate from the liars’ coffers. The
war-mongers had to create real wealth and send their own children
to die in their own wars. Thus Alexandria and Yang imposed
World Peace. By changing America, they changed the world. After
all, Alexandria means Defender of the People and Yang is a son of
Shang, whose name means the Rays of the Benevolent Sun.
Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves as Bill and Ted sang the Star
Spangled Banner, ending the anthem by exhorting everyone to play
the air guitar for peace, closing out the performance with their
Golden Rule, “be excellent to each other and party on dudes.”
Apocalypse 317
Shania Twain and Celine Dion belted out the gender-neutral

version of O Canada in both English and French. Blue Jays all-
time number one star pitcher Dave Stieb tossed the ceremonial first
pitch, and le jeu commencé—the game begins.
It turned out to be a gem of a pitcher’s duel between Angels’
golden arm pitcher Jake Arrieta and Jays’ top gun Aaron Sanchez,
who had returned to where he first started his career. After seven
innings, the score was still goose eggs. Then destiny intervened.
The inconceivable unpredictable implausible happened.
The fall of the first domino seemed innocuous and
inconsequential. The organist who had been doing a great job so
far had an accident during toilet break. She tripped and broke her
wrist. The regular backup was nowhere to be found. The cops had
arrested him on his way to the stadium. He had too much alcohol
in his blood. The fool started the celebrations early. Now a
replacement was urgently needed right away. Someone in the Jays
organization knew Victoria played the piano and asked her to take
over the organ for the rest of the game.
Victoria would have loved to stay at the field where the action
was. If there was going to be a celebration, she wanted to be right
in the thick of it. But it wasn’t meant to be. Victoria didn’t demur;
she was the ultimate team player. She settled down at the organ
and started to play Okay Blue Jays Let’s Play Ball.
Both sides breezed through the eighth inning, but then the top
half of the ninth inning went very badly for the Jays. Victoria
couldn’t bear to watch. The ball decided to take a couple of crazy
bounces, a lucky hit way out of the strike zone, a marginal call, and
the Angels was up three-nothing by the time the Jays came out to
take their last at bat at the bottom of the ninth.
Two outs went by quickly and quietly—a short hop to short
and a lazy fly to right field. The atmosphere in the stadium was as
gloomy as a morgue. Will the Jays fans be blue for the winter
again? Will Toronto Blue Jays give up and meekly go home again?
No way, José! Toronto is home.
Baseball is unpredictable; Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle
demands it. With two outs and nobody on, Vladimir Guerrero Jr.
kept the game alive with a bloop single into no man’s land, ending
Arrieta’s no-hitter bid. Bo Bichette barely beat the throw to first
with a half swing on two strikes. The call was disputed and Bo was
ruled safe after a review. Next, Randal Grichuk walked after
fouling twenty-five pitches. The last pitch was an inside slider that
seemed to have brushed his pants. Grichuk immediately trotted to
first base. After another review, Grichuk got to stay at first base.
Blue Jays fans were kept on tenterhooks because the difference
of a fraction of an inch or of a split second would mean that the
game was over and the championship lost. Instead, the bases were
loaded for whom else but the Designated Hitter José Bautista, the
home run champion this year with 72 blasts in 162 games. He also
drew the most bases on balls during the regular season at 234, both
all-time Hall-of-Fame records.
It was surprising because Bautista returned after retirement,
taking gas money just for a chance to play. He told interviewers
that he received special training from a mysterious one-eyed Kung
Fu master. Everyone had the feeling that destiny was in the air and
that Joey Bats wouldn’t go quietly tonight. Behind him was Didi
Gregorius, a most curiously named player from the Netherlands,
who was famous for his postseason clutch grand slam homers.
Following Didi was Rowdy Tellez, the best hitter for the Jays
during the postseason. No one would be giving up tonight.
The stadium came alive again. The noise level went through
the roof sending the boisterous exuberance out of the open dome to
reverberate from sea to shining sea. What was impossible half an
hour ago now appeared all but certain. Ninth inning baseball is the
best embodiment of “never giving up.”
Apocalypse 319
A few pitches later, the count stood at three balls and one
strike. After a long conference at the mound, the private pride of a
complete game for Arrieta would have to give way to the team’s
combined efforts to win the championship. Wade Davis, Angel’s
super closer with an unprecedented one hundred percent save
record this season, trotted out of the bullpen.
In 2015, Wade Davis had an incredible streak of 125⅔ innings
pitched as a reliever without giving up a home run. It was the
longest homerless streak by a reliever in the history of baseball,
and could have been much longer if not for José Bautista. Strictly
by coincidence, Davis had again pitched exactly 125⅔ innings
without giving up a home run. Davis wanted payback and break his
own unbreakable record. What better place than here? What better
time than now? He threatened to blow a couple of pitches pass
Bautista, sending the old timer to his retirement again and the Jays
packing with a game-over strike out.
As for Bautista, he challenged Davis to make that same
mistake again. Bautista set himself up at the plate. He paid
attention to the defence on the field, and looked for clues from
Davis’s pitch action. He regulated his breathing, tuned his mind
into a blank, and zoned in on the spin, speed, and path of the ball.
With the music of Kung Fu Fighting playing in his head,
Bautista’s heartbeat slowed. He could hear his heart pounding like
a war drum in the deafening silence of the stadium. Bautista’s
mind said, “Fast ball, very fast; make mighty Kung Fu swing if I
see a hint of something juicy in the strike zone.” Davis’s cut
fastball came at Bautista like a bullet, but it was low and inside.
Bautista didn’t even flinch. Joey Bats had taken ball four for a
walk, scoring Vladdy, and keeping the game alive.
But wait.…
“Steerrr-rike!” the umpire shouted.
The ensuing eruption almost brought the house down.

Bautista’s blood boiled and bubbled; his eyes turned red with fire.
He forgot the mental lessons from his one-eyed teacher. He flipped
his bat into high heaven and started shouting expletives at the
umpire, mostly in Spanish. Cheesy nachos and recyclable plastic
cups filled with organic craft beer rained down on the umpires and
littered the field. Security personnel had to scramble over to
prevent hotheads from spilling over from the stands. Then the
second domino fell and real trouble began.
The umpire threw Bautista out of the game. Jays manager
Charlie Montoyo hurriedly entered the fray. Every Jay from the
dugout, the bullpen, and on the field followed the lead and
surrounded the umpires.
Then the third domino fell; the inconceivable happened. The
umpire threw out every single person in a Blue Jays uniform who
had walked over to intimidate him. That was everyone, EH-VRY-
ONE! The Jays had three runners on base but no one to hit the next
pitch. By the time the dust settled, the Jays had basically conceded
the game. The officials and the reporters were already noting that
the game had ended at 11 p.m.
The Global MLB commissioner who was at the game to hand
over the trophy decided to make an eleventh hour concession to
placate the fans. The giant video screen showed the following
message: “Any member of the Toronto Blue Jays organization,
who is in uniform for the game but not involved in the fracas on
the field, will be allowed to hit for Bautista.” It seemed that the
only person who could fit the description was a teenage girl by the
name of Victoria Solana.
Victoria sashayed to the home plate with Bautista’s bat. She
looked silly donning Tellez’s outsized helmet. Meanwhile, the
video producer had the presence of mind to put Marilyn Monroe’s
version of Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend on the giant screen.
Apocalypse 321
Everyone knew that it was just a gesture and a formality to

finish the game. No one expected a teenage girl who wasn’t a
professional athlete to be able to touch Davis’s wicked fastball;
most major league hitters couldn’t. Everyone by this time accepted
the Jays had lost the championship. Just let Davis make the pitch
and get it over with, so everyone could go home.
Victoria had something else in mind—it was “never giving
up.” Victoria loved baseball lore, in particular the one about a
seventeen year old girl pitcher who faced Babe Ruth and Lou
Gehrig in her first professional baseball game. Jackie Mitchell took
the mound in the first inning with two on and none out. Both the
Sultan of Swat and the Iron Horse were powerful left-handed
hitters. Jackie Mitchell was a left-handed pitcher who threw a
sidearm sinker. It was a reasonable matchup for an exhibition
game. There would be no harm done if the men hit back-to-back
home runs as expected of them. Instead, the teenage girl struck out
Babe Ruth looking with four pitches, and whiffed Lou Gehrig
three times on three pitches to strike him out as well. It proves that
there’s nothing a girl cannot do if she puts her mind to it.
Taking her place behind the home plate, Victoria raised her
hand and pointed at the outfield—a signal that she would hit one
out of the stadium—an allusion to Babe Ruth’s famous call shot,
drawing a ripple of laughter from the good-humoured fans.
Finally, the crowd calmed down. Viola watching the game live
in China had her jaws dropped to the floor. Charlie watching the
game at Princeton was likewise stunned, especially after having
downed four pints at the legendary Tiger Inn. Huang Shi was
watching the game with his grandchildren at David’s home. He
had a premonition that something momentous was going to
happen. The Oracle did predict it. Victoria’s parents, Wenlong and
Xinfeng, had just placed a bet in the Casino Niagara on the Jays to
win. They happened to know something the odds-makers didn’t.
Bella and Jackie had been jumping up and down at home when
they saw Victoria at the plate, but now they also calmed down,
biting their nails nervously as Davis wound up his pitch.
The time was eleven minutes past eleven. Davis made a note of
that and wound up his pitch. He then let loose his signature
hundred miles-an-hour four-seam fastball right down the pipe. He
did it seamlessly and gracefully. All of his mechanisms were
perfect. It was a beautiful thing to behold, a work of art which
begins as a Michelangelo and ends as a Monet, which gives the
impression of speed, like the fleeting feeling of something flying
by, but by the time you sense it, it’s no longer there—like the
speed of winged thought, like the illusion of time itself.
The ball was a blur. As Victoria concentrated on the flight of
the projectile, time slowed. She could see the ball spinning as it
barrelled through the air towards her. Victoria knew she was
strong. She could easily arm-wrestle Davis and Bautista to the
ground with one arm, but all she needed to do was to hit the ball on
the sweet spot of the bat and follow through with the swing. She
had a pretty good idea how to go about doing that.
Instead of the thud of a fastball hitting the catcher’s mitt and
the whiff of a bat hitting air, everyone was surprised to hear a loud
crack. The whole stadium and a billion streaming viewers stared in
stunned silence as the ball went up, up, up, and into the fifth deck,
measuring at 495 feet, a Rogers Centre record.
Victoria looked up to follow the trajectory of the ball, but she
saw something else. She didn’t hear the fireworks exploding
around her. She didn’t notice the whole team rushing out into the
field at her. She didn’t even feel the thrill of being ushered around
the bases and paraded around the stadium. What she saw was very
bad news. It’s tough luck for Homo sapiens.
Victoria’s eagle eyes could see that a red star had blown up in a
supernova at this very moment. It was the red giant Betelgeuse, the
Apocalypse 323
hand of Orion the Hunter. Although the supernova happened about

six hundred and fifty years ago, around the time when the kid rap
of a stone man with one eye started a peasant rebellion and a
wandering mendicant monk established the Ming dynasty, the
news finally reached earth.
In a few years, the alien refugees would start arriving in
swarms, maybe eventually in the tens or hundreds of millions. The
huge supply of Didymium and Neodymium mined by Xinfeng’s
clan ensured that. The authorities of St. Paul, Alberta might want
to tear down their UFO landing pad and the Aliens Welcome sign.
But seriously, did Victoria actually hit an ultimate grand slam
to win the New World Series for the Blue Jays? Is this a dream or
is this Victoria’s fantasy? Is this a VR game Victoria has been
playing? Is this in the future or has it already happened? More
importantly for us Homo sapiens, has Betelgeuse really exploded
and will we as a species survive a large influx of alien refugees?
Other than using our automatic assault rifles and weapons of
extermination to terrify and slaughter our own kind, will we be
able to use them against a more advanced alien life form? Will our
beloved guns even work on them? Will the aliens do to us what we
did to the Neanderthals, Denisovans, Homo erectus, Homo Naledi,
and myriad other flora and fauna standing in the way of our
domination of the earth? Will they enslave us as we have enslaved
our own kind? Will they respect our property rights or will they
take possession of everything we own?
On a more sombre note, will they lock us up in tiny dark cages
from birth, shoot us full of chemicals, and let us stew in our own
excrement so that they can cheaply breed us for food? Will they
use us as guinea pigs for testing their new medical and consumer
products? Will they perform vivisection on us to experiment on
their biological and chemical weapons? Will they massacre us or
will they hunt us for sport?
Will they laugh at us and call us Homo ignoramus? Will they

decide that humans are too stupid and without hesitation unleash
the natural forces that will decimate life on earth? Is there anything
we can do to ensure our survival as human beings—assuming
being human is as great as our own lies have been telling
ourselves? Will we even leave a trace in the universe, or will we be
expunged and be forgotten as if we have never existed?
Alternatively, will the aliens disable our weapons, share their
unlimited energy and food with us, and force us to coexist in love,
peace, and harmony—in other words, tyrannically deprive us of
our precious freedom to wage war? These are questions that’ll
need answers before the first wave arrives.
This sounds very, very frightening; but there’s no cause for
panic. We have a trump card that we can count on. Victoria is on
our side, and no matter who or what will be coming from
Betelgeuse, she’ll—how would Shakespeare put it?—tickle their
catastrophes, or in modern lingo, mercilessly kick their collective
butt. But that, my friend, is another story.
 The End, for now 

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Image licenses and acknowledgment
Cover: Artist's impression of supernova 1993J, by NASA, ESA, and G. Bacon

under a Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 4.0 License. Retouched.
(http://www.spacetelescope.org/images/opo1438a/)
Cover: Spiral galaxy Messier 81, by NASA, ESA and the Hubble Heritage
Team under public domain.
(http://hubblesite.org/newscenter/archive/releases/2007/19/image/a/ )
Cover: Liu Ding, Last Shang Dynasty, by Mountain at Shanghai Museum, by
Yug under a Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License.
Retouched. (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Liu_Ding-edit.jpg)
Cover: Oumuamua, by ESO/M. Kornmesser under a Creative Commons
Attribution 4.0 International license.
(http://www.eso.org/public/images/eso1737a/)
Chapter 8, Orion Constellation, by Torsten Bronger under a Creative Commons
Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License.
(https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Orion_constellation_map.svg)
Chapter 14, Scorpius constellation, by Till Credner under a Creative Commons
Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License.
(https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:ScorpiusCC.jpg)
Chapter 21, Looting of the Old Summer Palace during the Second Opium War
(1860) by Godefroy Durand (public domain)
Chapter 23, Money cowry by H. Zell under a Creative Commons Attribution
Share Alike 3.0 License.
(https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Monetaria_moneta_01.JPG)
Chapter 23, Square shoulder spade coin by David Hartill under a Creative
Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License.
(https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Square_Shoulder_Spade.jpg)
Chapter 23, Shang Ge (Bronze dagger-axe) by a Wikipedia editor at large
under a Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 2.5 License.
(https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:CMOC_Treasures_of_Ancient_Chi
na_exhibit_-_bronze_dagger-axe.jpg)
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ROMANCE of THE

An Epic Drama across the Galactic Stage

“’The Unconquered’ combines three of my favorite things: Canada, China, and

Publisher email: stoneman.1eye@gmail.com

Book webpage: https://stone-man.weebly.com

Visit Blog for more detailed discussions:

“Everything is a lie …” – Sage Didymas

ur tale begins not with an opening scroll of “a long time

O ago and far, far away” followed by epic orchestral fanfare.

Victoria Solana was the most unremarkable person you could

It all began on Victoria’s birthday. It was her Sweet Sixteen.

whole shelf of books on the subject. Victoria could read them

I t was a dark and slippery night. There are many such

implemented the so-called One Child Policy.

Western myths, Western mores, and Western methods, but always

population by disease, starvation, and war. The policy has ended

lthough still suffering from the trauma of the evening,

A Victoria remembered her father’s instruction to look for

This symbol looked more like a tattoo than a birthmark. But

Fortunately, Victoria knew where her father had hidden his

For the purpose of clarity, the three glyphs are displayed

Gertrude Stein’s book Geography and Plays, followed by a

y now, it should be obvious that Victoria Solana was not an

B ordinary and unexceptional girl. Her parents wanted to keep

A teardrop fell on the note as Victoria finished reading. She

Victoria put the note in her knapsack which she carried

Carved on the exterior of the jade ring was a mythical beast

On the back of the ring were two symbols.

Christmas would be here in two days. Most of the homes in the

ictoria lived about ten minutes’ walk away from Jackie

V and Bella. Both of them came from affluent families

Professor Stone and Lorelei also came up with strange new

else. Jackie then summoned Bella to an emergency Weird Sisters

“I know what to do,” said the intrepid Jackie. “Let us set up

ictoria arrived at Toronto around midnight. She found

V herself standing on Dundas Street—an all too familiar

on Queen Street as usual stopped pedestrians in their tracks with its

around her seemed to have come to a complete standstill. Victoria

“I’m sorry, there must be a misunderstanding,” Victoria said,

“You’re getting a haircut and a disguise.”

Using the hotel Wi-Fi, Victoria sent a short message to the

Belatrix or the Amazon star, the female warrior, is his left

When she emerged from her galactic wandering, Victoria

Though it was impossible to forget about all the terrible things

ictoria’s determined effort to wake David brought Raja

V out of the cockpit.

finger-hold, then hit three bullseyes on a moving target with his

twenty-four hours ago, who also happened to be a cold-blooded

avid and Victoria landed safely beside a quiet roadway

D about five hundred metres from a solitary gas station with

“How’s that possible?” Victoria exclaimed. “It’s the middle of

camouflage—make it Buick Lacrosse. Set cruising speed at

he year was 209 BCE. Two years earlier, Mars aligned

He had a name that meant dragon and he had an amazing history.

WARNING: Graphic description within of Homeric battle

nce fully armed and marshalled, the Eastern Wolf

O tribesmen rode out of camp to occupy their marked

behind him. It made no difference to the Eastern Wolves how

sand scorpion. Then my loving father attacked Yossi, fully

your whistle arrow towards your concubine. The archers of course

A straggler told Lone Wolf to turn back and save himself. He

n eagle floated high in the clear blue sky, enjoying the

A serene beauty of the peaceful earth. With her eagle eyes,