You Must Fall In Love

Chapter Forty-Two

Out of all the non-Jen people in Whitetail Student Lodge, Christine had the least feelings about old Kang.

This wasn't to say that she didn't like any of them — far from it. She hated August, didn't mind Yusuke, and was starting to have disturbingly cordial feelings for Rob. But old Kang was different.

Because Kang was, by definition, old, Christine still felt some form of instinctive respect for him, a respect not so much earned as beaten into her head by all of Singaporean society. She reserved most of her ire for people her age, as a rule, because she felt like giving the elderly what-for was more of a reflection on her own character, and at any rate, they tended not to fight back.

Christine understood intuitively that in order to be a successful prickly person, one had to pick targets that were capable of scratching back; otherwise, that simply made you a bully.

Christine had no intention of being a bully. She was a grump of great righteousness, and besides, he had fixed the bed.

"You called, Miss Lam?"

And there he was, standing at the doorway, hands in his sleeves as always, looking about as imposing as a coat-hanger. Christine cleared her throat and assumed the most polite position that she knew, a ramrod-straight, bright-eyed go-getter kind of posture.

Her back and mouth started hurting after two seconds, but she figured that if she stopped now, it would be a complete waste of her valuable efforts.

"I did," she said. "Thanks for coming, Mr. Kang."

"Kang is fine."

His gait was tranquil, with nothing casual about it — like he was in a nice flower garden instead of a dingy, stale, and slightly musty room.

"Miss Lam, you do not have to smile because of me," he said. "I see that you are troubled."

"What? I'm not..."

She really hadn't been, up until he had mentioned it. But the mere possibility sent a general malaise curling over her gray matter, like sweat in the middle of the night, until it became completely true and the smile dropped off her face like a stone.

"I am here to serve, Miss Lam. You can tell me your needs."

Christine rubbed the back of her neck. Her head felt heavy. She didn't want help, but as Jen had so helpfully pointed out, there was no-one else who could get her out of this magical dead-end.

"Kang, you were a priest, weren't you? A Taoist one?"

"I fulfilled the same role as a priest for my village," said Kang. "It is hereditary in our family. But I am a Taoist, yes, even though there are many senses of the word."

To Christine, Taoists were either a) the men in blue dress who flicked the horsehair brushes around in wuxia shows or b) the spellcasters, quite real, who used charms and amulets like Mum and Lawrence did.

How many other senses of the word were there?

"I'm not too sure what it means myself," she said. "I was hoping... look, I'm trying to get my amulets to work, but Jen told me that I'd have to get the meaning behind the spell before getting it to work, and now it doesn't work, so..."

Kang picked up a wadulet, tugged on it until it returned to something of its previous state, then nodded.

"I see. Yes, I understand what you mean now. When I was a boy, I had to deal with the same thing."

"You wrote amulets?"

"Your magic derived it from my religion, Miss Lam," smiled Kang. "Then again, my religion is not entirely an original creation."