Chapter 4

The following day, Quin took Petra to Tiananmen Square. They stood in the centre of the vast enclosure while Quin gave Petra some background information. "This is the largest square in the world. It can hold over a million people. This monument we're standing beside is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, to remember those who fought gallantly during the war and the Great March. But it has deeper significance, because in the time of Imperial China, this spot was believed to be the navel of the world."

Petra looked around her and then up at the towering needle of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Standing in the centre of this vast space, she began to have a feel for the size of the stage on which the history of China had been played. But Quin, Petra noticed, was still very much focussed on her role as tour guide. "To the right of the square is the museum, to the left the government buildings. It's difficult to get the scale of these buildings inside this huge space, but the banquet hall can sit five thousand. Behind us is the mausoleum where Mao's body is kept, and ahead of us is the Gate of Heavenly Peace, the entranceway to the Forbidden City, which is not a city at all, but the private residence of the Emperors of China."

Petra looked at the long line of Chinese already waiting to enter the mausoleum to pay their respects to Mao. "With the changes in leadership and the denouncing of the Gang of Four, is Mao still seen as a hero?"

Quin looked across the square at the quiet line. "Mao's policies are open to question and criticism today, but he'll always be known as the leader who threw off the shackles of the West and made China great. I believe he will always be a hero of the people."

Petra nodded. No country could be comfortable living under the shadow of another's culture. Governments, monuments, ideologies, and trends would come and go, but the last thing a race would give up was its culture.

"Are you ready to go see the Forbidden City?" Quin asked.

"It's hard to believe that the massacre happened here."

Quin turned and pointed. "The tank came across the square to where we're standing now. The students tried to get away by climbing the monument to the Unknown Soldier. The only time you see soldiers here now, other than ceremonial guards, is on the date of the student protest. Then the square is closed and there's a heavy military presence. The government wants to make sure that another very public display of repression never happens again."

Quin started across the square to buy their entrance tickets to the Forbidden City. Petra took one more look around. She said a silent prayer for those who had died or were in prison still, and turned to follow. China was a much bigger concept than Petra had realized.

The Forbidden City, Quin explained, had been started in 1406, during the Ming Dynasty. It was said to have nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine rooms, nine being a number associated with good fortune. The grounds consisted of a series of towering gates, each one leading into an area more private than the pervious one. At the far end of the Forbidden City were the Emperor's private gardens.

It had taken them three hours to walk through just the main sections of the Forbidden City, marvelling at the beautifully carved marble and wood, the complex glazes on the vases, and the grand scale of the bronze pots and statues. At one time, the Emperor had thousands of people working on staff. Even the last Emperor had over seven hundred people to care for him.

By the time they made their way to the Emperor's garden, Petra was feeling light-headed and slightly ill. The day had been oppressively hot and humid, and she was still adjusting to the time change.

Quin stopped to take a swig from her water bottle. Petra was glad to stop. She felt pale and dizzy.

Quin reached out and offered her support. "Hey, are you okay?"

The world circled a few times, and then by sheer willpower, Petra brought it back into focus.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Too much heat, I think, and a bit of jet lag, too."

Petra's water bottle was long empty, and she accepted with only a split second's hesitation when Quin offered hers. She drank gratefully from Quin's bottle. It bore the faintest taste of Quin's lipstick on the rim. It made Petra remember other times, happier times, when she and Val would go for long walks. Quickly, she blinked back tears.

Quin took Petra's arm and led her through the shade of the garden to a quiet bench where they could sit.

"I'm sorry. I should have been more considerate. The temperature today is predicted to hit 112 degrees Fahrenheit. I'm so used to the heat that I forgot you'd find it very difficult." As she talked, she poured some water onto a tissue and offered it to Petra to wipe her face. Petra smiled weakly.

"Thanks. One hundred and twelve. My God. Is this usual?" Petra laughed thinly, trying not to show how rough she was feeling.

"In the summer, yes. China is a land of extremes. Listen, you take a little break here. I need to go and see about a few things. I'll be right back." Quin strode off without waiting for an answer.

Petra watched her go, impressed by her cool energy despite the stifling heat. Petra sighed; so far, she hadn't represented Vossler Engineering very well. First, I get into a disagreement with Quin over human rights, and then I nearly faint into the woman's arms. Damn. She closed her eyes and leaned back, enjoying the cool breeze through the old cedars.

Her mind drifted from one thought to the next. She had fitted neatly under the crook of Quin's arm. Quin had felt muscular and cool. It had been a nice sensation to have physical contact in her life again. How different Quin was from Val. Short, wiry Val, who was always laughing and filled with nervous energy.

Petra opened her eyes and sat up straight. What was she doing, comparing her father's regional manager with her late partner? She must have a touch of sunstroke to be allowing her mind to wander down a path like that.

It was a good half hour before Quin returned. Petra was feeling somewhat better. "I've arranged a private tea room for us. The tea will cool and refresh you. Are you ready? It's not a very long walk."

"I'm fine now," she said, although she was still feeling slightly sick and dizzy. Quin took her arm and set a slower pace over to the teahouse. It was crowded with tourists, but Quin and Petra were met by the manager, who led them to a small room open on one side to a shady garden and lined on the other three walls with sandalwood. The delicate, spicy smell was soothing, as was the cool breeze that rustled through the trees.

They sat on the floor beside a beautiful piece of twisted cedar wood. Large and highly polished, it served as a tea table. The heavy knots became mountains, and the coarse grain were rivers over an undulating landscape of wood. Petra made up her mind to try to buy such a table and ship it back home.

Quin selected tea from one of the many wicker and bark containers that were clustered nearby. Each one was woven with different handles and patterns and they were not only functional, but works of art.

"There are hundreds of types and blends of tea in China. Each one has a specific taste and properties. Huang Qui, the woman who raised me, insists that I drink a lot of green tea because it's good for controlling the fire in the liver."

"There's something wrong with your liver?" Petra asked, while she watched Quin spooning loose tea onto rice paper with a wood scoop.

"Not in the western sense of medicine, but in the East they believe there must be a balance between the Yin and Yang forces for the body to be healthy. I have way too much Yang, and that makes my liver hot. A hot liver makes you quick tempered." Quin used a bamboo knife to sort the dried leaves on the rice paper so that the fine grained ones went into the clay teapot first and the thicker twigs later. The heavier leaves would prevent the smaller pieces from rising and flowing into the teacups when the tea was poured.

"Are you bad tempered?" Petra asked. She watched in fascination as Quin took hot water and poured it from a foot or so above the pot in a circular pattern, first warming the outside clay and then letting the water run down the sides into the pot. The teapot sat on a high point of the thick table and the water spilt and splashed down, swirling along the grains of the wood and disappearing down a drain cleverly hidden in one corner.

"I can be, if 1 don't drink my tea," Quin said.

Quin proceeded to direct Petra through a ceremony of drinking the tea she had chosen for them, a bittersweet blend. Petra marvelled at the nuances and details Quin shared with her as they drank the warm, soothing liquid.

When they were ready to leave, Quin handed Petra her water bottle, now freshly filled with cold water.

"Try the water," Quin said.

Petra did and gasped in surprise. The water tasted sweet, like a soft drink back home in Canada.

"That's the sweet part of bittersweet tea. When you drink water after you have the tea, it will taste very sweet. The effect lasts about twenty minutes."

Petra wondered what went on behind the perfectly controlled facade. Surely that hot liver of Quin's must stir up hot passions, too. "Thanks," was all she said.

"If you need to rest, we could go back to the hotel," Quin said.

"No way am I going to wimp out. I'm here to see China."

They left the Forbidden City to take a cab to a local restaurant, where they ate in a room with rosewood furniture and rice paper walls. Then Quin surprised Petra by renting a pedicab, a rickshaw attached to a bicycle frame, to drive them around some of the backstreets of old China. Quin told her it wasn't only a pleasant way to travel on a hot day, but it allowed them to get down old, narrow streets where even the smaller modern cars couldn't go.

Petra saw a side of China that she wouldn't otherwise have seen. They stopped to visit a woman who was an old school friend of Huang Qui, Quin's step-mother. The homes were in pods of six to eight, with a small courtyard in between each pod. The exterior walls were windowless, and a thick wood door in an archway allowed the families to close themselves off from the narrow street.

The home they visited was small, but clean. It consisted of a tiny kitchen, living room, and bedroom. The home was owned by the government; Wang Li and her husband rented, which was unusual. Wang Lu was a police officer, so he was able to rent.

Wang Li and Quin chatted in Cantonese. Quin translated the main points of the conversation to Petra. "Wang Li tells me that her daughter, Zheng, is working as a teacher in a nearby preschool. Would you like to visit there?"

They climbed into the pedicab, and their driver wheeled them several blocks to the school compound. The single-story school was built in a square. Petra and Quin entered through sturdy double doors. The school compound was small and shaded by two trees. Inside the basic classroom it was snack time, and the preschoolers sat quietly at their seats eating.

Zheng showed them her classroom. The main teaching aids consisted of a worn blackboard, a few handmade exercise charts, and an old world map. At the back of the classroom was a cloak area with a toilet and large porcelain sink.

Zheng answered Petra's questions through Quin's interpretation.

"Yes, parents pay to send their children to the preschool. The parents must work, and schooling is important. They are happy to pay, although it costs them a lot of money."

"Ask Zheng how she would handle a child who was misbehaving" Petra said.

After some thought, Zheng answered Quin.

Quin translated for Petra. "The children are behaved because they know their parents would want them to be. She said if she ever had a problem, she would take the child aside and tell him or her that they must act properly."

Petra thought about students in North America and how some skipped classes, made excuses for not doing their work, and blamed the teachers when they didn't get good marks. They had everything in the way of opportunities and resources, and so many of them simply didn't care. These Chinese children made do with anything they could find to get the education they so desperately wanted.

They said their good-byes, climbed back into their pedicab, and took the shady road that led along the moat of the Forbidden City. People relaxed in small groups. Some played mahjong or card games; others talked or swam illegally in the moat water; some found a quiet, shady place and just slept. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Quin in the pedicab, Petra felt she was as close as she could possibly be to seeing the real China.

Quin paid their driver and then hailed a cab to take them back to the hotel. "I hope you'll bill my father for any out-of-pocket expenses, Quin." Petra said as she exited the elevator.

"Of course," Quin said, as they walked down the hall to their suite. "I don't think I quite understand what your role with Vossler Engineering is," Quin said as she slipped in their security card to unlock the door.

Petra considered evading the question and then decided to be as honest as she could. "I'm on the Board of Directors, and I'm also an advisor to the personnel department and evaluate the work performance of all senior administration."

Quin, halfway across the room, stopped dead in her tracks and spun around. "I'm being evaluated?"

"Yes."

"On being a tour guide?" Quin snapped.

"No, on how you deal with people and your knowledge of the division you head." Petra paused before lobbing a loaded question. "Are you still going to make a play for me?"

"I'd be a damn fool to do that under the circumstances. Tell me, would you have let me know I was under the company's scrutiny if I hadn't asked?"

"Eventually, yes. Neither my father nor I play dirty with our employees." Since Quin had no idea what this was really all about, she couldn't say too much without violating the trust her father had placed in her. She walked past Quin and dropped her bag on a chair. She looked back at Quin and asked, "Drink?"

Quin's sat down and crossed her legs. "Thanks," she responded. "A Bloody Mary, and I might make that pass after all."

"Would that be straight up, or would you like it over ice?"

"Oh, straight up. I can handle my fruits," Quin said.

Petra mixed the drink and handed it to Quin. She got a rum and Coke for herself and carried it over to where Quin sat on the sofa. She curled up in the other corner. "I'm not available."

"I didn't know that."

Petra willed her voice to be steady as she spoke. "I lived with the same woman for many years. Val died three years ago in a car accident."

"I'm sorry. Can I ask you a question?"

"You can. I don't know if I'll answer, though."

"What is love? I don't think I've ever been in love. Infatuated now and again, but not really in love. I'm not even sure I know what it means to be in love." Quin lounged comfortably on the couch.

It was the last question Petra had expected, and it took her a few seconds to respond. "It's more than an attraction. It's as though the person is the other half of you. You're simply meant to be together." Tears welled in her eyes.

"Do you think a person can only really love once?"

"I think so. Val made me promise that if anything happened to her, I'd leave my heart open to love. It was as if she knew she'd die young." Petra fought back tears. "I just can't imagine myself ever wanting to be with anyone else or replacing Val's memory in my life."

Quin put her empty glass down and stood. "Val was a very lucky woman to have found someone so loyal. I suggest a nap. If you're up for it, we'll go to a dinner show tonight, and you can get a taste of China's folk operas."

"I'd like that," Petra said.

Quin looked as though she were going to say something, but changed her mind and walked out.

That evening they walked to a nearby hotel and had dinner before watching a Chinese Opera. Petra thought it was a bit like Gilbert and Sullivan, only with a Chinese flair. The costumes were beautiful, the juggling, acrobatics, and dancing, superb and the skits funny. One was about a woman escaping a nunnery to follow her lover down the river by boat. The funny interplay between the naive woman and the good-natured but silly boatman needed no translation, but Quin gave a running commentary anyway. The second musical was a story taken from the famous legends collectively called Journey to the West. It was the story of how the immortal Monkey King escaped the fires of the furnace to defeat the local king.

After the show, in the cab back to the hotel, Quin demonstrated more of her knowledge of Chinese culture by telling more of the story of the Monkey King.

Petra showered, thinking about Val and the exotic and breathtaking images of Beijing that she had seen today. There was so much to recall after only one day in this amazing culture. Val would have loved being here. Why hadn 't we travelled more?

She lay awake for a long time thinking over the day. Would Quin be concerned about why she was being evaluated? Whether the company had felt she had made a mistake? Perhaps she already suspected that Petra's father was preparing the way for a successor. One thing was for sure: Quin would be far more on her guard than she had been before Petra's revelation about the reason for her visit.

She could see why her father had concerns about Quin. There was always Schumann. He had the experience, and although not imaginative, he would show steady and reliable leadership. Or they could bring someone in from the outside.

Petra's hunch, though, was that when Kurt Vossler left, so would Quin. She must have had several good offers over the years. She probably stayed because of loyalty and respect for Kurt. Wisely, if with some concerns, Kurt hadn't interfered in the way Quin had run the Far East division. Quin wouldn't easily accept a new boss, especially one who tried to rein her in.

Petra's thoughts drifted to the conversation that she'd had with Quin about love. It said something about Quin that she had no real idea what it would be like to be loved deeply by someone. She wasn't sure that she had answered Quin's question well. How did you explain the heady feeling that came with being totally in love? The vulnerability that was scary and wonderful at the same time? Was Quin capable of that kind of profound love? And why did Petra care, anyway?