My shoes keep slipping. I grab a fistful of grass beside the path and just avoid landing in the mud. Zuobituo stops at the bend below me. Once I'm steady, she starts down again.
The dogs are still barking. Beyond the last trees the river gets suddenly louder, and I can see a cluster of wooden houses on its bank. A muddy track curves past them to a bridge.
People. A cart. Nobody going anywhere.
Three armed men block the approach: one leaning on a staff, a tall one sitting beside a battered table shaving a sliver of wood with his knife, and a third standing near the bridge with a hand on his scabbard.
An old man in a straw hat bends down beside the cart, trying to catch rice spilling from a torn sack underneath it. The grains are wet with mud. He can't scoop them up, so he gathers what he can into the front of his robe. The man with the staff has his foot on a corner of the sack, pulling the tear wider.
‘But we agreed,’ the old man says, looking up. ‘I've paid. Why do you want more?’
The staff nudges his hand away.
I take a step. Zuobituo moves too. I touch her arm, stopping behind one of the houses.
No one is blocking the bridge itself, and the road on the far bank is clear. But the entrance is narrow; the cart takes up most of it. People with baskets and bundles crowd behind it. A woman grips a child's hand. He keeps trying to crawl underneath.
‘Can you hold those three off?’ I whisper.
‘Yes. If they separate, I may not reach everyone in time.’
I look from the bridge to the old man crouched beneath the staff.
‘I'll try talking. You look after the people over there. Help them get away if you can. Okay?’
‘Yes. Do not go too far from me.’
‘They're going to stop him, aren't they? He can barely push that thing.’
I glance towards the corner of the house. Two stone steps sit under the eaves, still dry. The mud in front gleams under a thin layer of water.
‘If they start something, I'll back over there and draw anyone chasing me away from the bridge. You get the others across.’
‘Yes. Stop when you reach the steps. Do not go round the back of the house. I will keep you in sight.’
I nod and let go of her arm. Wind off the river chills my wet cuffs. I wipe my hands on my trousers and step out from behind the house.
‘Excuse me. His rice is spilling. Can you let him tie the sack up first?’
The man standing on it turns. A black iron band circles his wrist, joined to grey-green plates with a piece chipped off the edge. Leather straps hold them tight. The end of his staff is still beside the old man's hand.
I stop two paces away.
‘He can pick it up when he's paid the rest of the crossing fee.’
‘Hasn't he paid?’
‘For himself. Not the cart.’
The old man wipes his forehead with his arm. A few grains roll out of his gathered robe.
‘Brother Cao Wu, that wasn't what you said. I paid for myself and the cart.’
‘Passage for a man is one thing, old fellow. Passage for goods is another. Don't mix them up.’
Strings of coins lie on the battered table, with a knife beside them.
Footsteps behind me. Cao Wu looks up and abruptly lifts his staff off the sack, holding it across his body.
The old man clutches his rice and shrinks towards the wheel. The woman pulls her child into her arms, muffling his cries against her clothes.
I turn. Zuobituo has just stepped out from under the eaves. Water still clings to the metal chrysanthemum of her face.
‘What… what is that?’ Cao Wu takes half a step back. ‘What's wrong with its face?’
‘Hey! You could try being polite. She's…’
I stare at that face full of metal petals. My throat catches.
‘An actress. It's a costume.’
‘A what?’
‘For a play. You know. Clothes you act in.’
The tall man gets up from the table. Metal covers both his forearms; a cracked plate of glaze armour hangs from his left shoulder. His knife stays in one hand while the other closes round the iron ring at his wrist.
‘Where do they put on plays like that?’
‘Um… Taipei.’
Zuobituo turns towards me. I quickly look back at the man with the knife.
‘Up north, are you?’ Cao Wu looks her over without lowering his staff. ‘That explains it. A strange pair, the two of you.’
The man with the knife jerks his head towards the bridge. ‘Tian Shu. Watch the crossing.’
The man holding his scabbard moves to the entrance, his eyes on Zuobituo's hands.
‘Want to cross? Pay.’
Cao Wu opens his mouth, closes it and turns back to me.
Zuobituo stops beside the cart, her hands at her sides.
‘The sack is torn. I can tie it for you.’
The old man clutches his robe tighter, looking between her and Cao Wu. Rice is still falling, grain by grain.
I crouch, pick up the end of the cord by his foot and put it in his hand. ‘Let's get it closed first.’
He holds the cord for a moment, then slowly offers it to Zuobituo. Only when she has taken it does she crouch and lift the mouth of the sack. He pours the rice from the fold of his robe. She winds the cord round the sack.
Cao Wu's staff follows her down. I stand, and he looks at me again.
‘You paying for him?’
‘He's paid once already. If that rice gets any wetter, he'll have made this trip for nothing. Can't you let him go?’
Cao Wu taps his staff against the ground. ‘So concerned for him? Pay for him. No money? Then move. You're holding up the rest.’
Nobody behind the cart comes forward. The woman draws her child against her skirt. A few spring onions trail from her basket into the mud.
I edge towards the old man. The staff bars my way at waist height.
I stop. Don't touch it.
‘Money out,’ the tall man says.
Cao Wu withdraws the staff and holds out his hand.
Zuobituo has lifted the fallen sack back onto the cart. The old man takes it and pushes it further in, head bowed. His hands are shaking so badly she keeps her hand underneath and waits.
I pull my backpack round to the front. ‘My money's different from yours. What's the exchange rate here?’
‘The what?’
‘How much of your money do I get for mine?’
Cao Wu looks at my bag and suddenly smiles. ‘Northern money? Two of you. Two fees. Don't come up short.’
‘I never said we were crossing.’
‘Set foot in Liudu, you follow Liudu's rules.’
A crossing fee. Now you don't even have to cross.
I unzip the front pocket. My keyring catches in the zip and takes two tugs to get free. Cao Wu cranes forward, his staff resting by his foot.
I take a hundred-dollar note from my purse and hold it open by the corners.
‘This. One hundred.’
‘A hundred what?’
‘Dollars. Taiwan dollars.’
He takes it, turns it against the light and rubs it between his fingers.
‘Seriously, it's real. Tilt it. The ink changes colour.’
Something gives a faint knock by the cart. I almost turn, but Cao Wu is still holding the note up, tipping it back and forth.
‘It does! These northern dollars really are something. Hu Geng, have a look.’
Hu Geng comes over. Cao Wu turns the note towards him, and the two of them block half my view. I shift sideways just enough to see Zuobituo turning the old man's cart towards the bridge.
‘Why's there a man drawn on it?’
The brim of the old man's hat tips up. He's looking our way.
I don't dare wave him on. I look down instead, rattling the loose Taiwan coins in my purse. ‘I've got smaller ones too, if you need change.’
‘Silver!’ Hu Geng pushes the note away.
‘If you've silver, get it out. What sort of money's this scrap of paper?’
Cao Wu shakes my hundred about until it crackles. I reach for it, stuff it into my pocket and feel the edge of my EasyCard.
Behind his shoulder, the woman with the basket has taken her child onto the bridge. Zuobituo is supporting the cart. A wheel catches in a gap between the stones at the entrance; she lifts it a little and the old man hurries to push.
Tian Shu steps back beside the railing. His scabbard is still held across his body.
I pull out the card.
‘No notes? Then—then, then how about this? EasyCard. Just tap. Beep.’
Cao Wu turns it halfway round. Hu Geng glances down.
‘What's this worth, then?’
‘Whatever I put on it.’
‘Where's the money?’
‘Inside.’
He picks at the edge with his fingernail. I resist snatching it back, keeping the straw hat in the corner of my eye. The wheel clears the gap and rolls onto the first plank.
Just a few more steps.
‘Who said you could go?’
Tian Shu strides across, catches the old man by the back of his collar and raises his metal-covered arm. Before I can reach out, Zuobituo has his wrist.
She steps aside to let the old man past, turns Tian Shu's arm behind his back and supports his shoulder with her other hand, pressing him to his knees, then down to the ground.
‘Please stop.’
Cao Wu whips round, drops his staff and snatches the knife from the table. I pull my card free and take a step towards the stone steps at the corner of the house. Hu Geng swings his blade across my path.
A red line lights along the back of Hu Geng's blade. Tian Shu's wrist guard lights too, with him still pinned to the ground.
The people on the bridge stop. Zuobituo looks up at me.
Two blades between us.