“Mother, I would like you to meet my brothers,” Hok said. She pointed. “This is Seh, this is Malao, and this is Fu. Everyone, meet my mother.”
Seh blinked. The woman did look a surprising amount like Hok, especially with them both wearing matching head wraps.
Seh bowed.
“Your mother?” Malao said. “Wow! Nice to meet you!”
“Yes,” Fu said. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Hok's mother replied.
“Hey!” a young voice shouted. “What are all those boys doing here?”
Seh turned to see the outer edge of the circle part. A girl about five years old ran toward them. Jogging next to her was the single lion dancer from the performance, still in full costume.
The girl ran up to Hok's mother, while the lion dancer stopped next to Hok. The lion dancer put his arm—which looked like a lion's front leg—around Hok's waist. Seh felt his face suddenly flush. What did that dancer think he was doing?
The little girl stomped her foot. “Isn't anybody going to answer my question?”
“Mind your manners,” Hok's mother said. She rested her hand on the girl's head, and Seh noticed that the girl's hair was brown. He had never seen anyone with brown hair before. And although the little girl's eyes were Chinese in shape, their color was light brown instead of dark brown or black like everybody else's.
“These boys are your sister's friends,” Hok's mother said to the girl.
“You have a sister, too?” Malao said. “That's great!”
Hok nodded, smiling.
Seh pointed at the lion dancer. “Is this your brother?”
“Hardly,” the lion dancer replied. At least, that's what Seh thought he said. It was difficult to tell because the dancer spoke with a thick accent Seh didn't recognize. The lion dancer removed the costume head, and Seh did a double take.
It was a teenage boy with very pale skin— even paler than Hok's. He had small red dots and splotches across his nose and cheeks, and his hair was almost white, like rice. Stranger still were his eyes, which were almost completely round, like the moon when it was full. And they were blue. Like the sky. He was so … ugly.
“You're a guai lo!” Malao said in Cantonese.
The boy didn't respond.
“You're a ghost boy,” Seh said in Mandarin, and the boy's round eyes narrowed. He took a step toward Seh.
Hok put her hand on the ghost boy's shoulder. “This is Charles,” she said.
“What's a ‘Charles’?” Fu asked.
“Charles is his name,” Hok said. “He's my friend, so be nice to him.”
Charles stared hard at Fu. Fu growled.
The pit of Seh's stomach began to tingle, and the snake on his arm shivered. Seh focused on Charles, but he didn't sense anything. Something else was wrong. There was a commotion behind them.
The boys turned toward the river, and Seh noticed that five of the dragon boat teams that had been practicing had beached their boats on the southern shore, about two hundred paces from Hok's camp. The team members were coming ashore quickly, and they were lining up in ranks—like soldiers. People in the crowd began to stare and point.
A solitary dragon boat remained in the water behind the men in formation. The steersman stood up and removed his silk hat ceremoniously. A long, thick ponytail braid flopped out and bounced off his chest. He smiled at Seh and shouted across the space between them, “Remember me?”
Seh stared at the man but didn't respond. The man felt extremely familiar.
“Tonglong!” Fu said.
“Very good, Pussycat,” Tonglong shouted. “Now it's the serpent's turn to talk. You have something that I want. Give it to me and we'll be on our way. Deny me and—”
Tonglong snapped his fingers. The twenty costumed men in his boat each raised a qiang and pointed it at Seh.
The entire southern shoreline erupted into chaos. The crowd dispersed in a thousand directions like an exploding firework. Women and children screamed and men cried out as they slipped and fell and were trampled by hundreds of fleeing feet. Desperate voices of every pitch and volume implored the heavens to protect them from the qiangs.
Seh scanned his immediate surroundings. Next to him were Fu, Hok, Hok's mother, Hok's little sister, and Charles. Malao was gone.
Seh began to scan farther out. Most of the people were heading away from the river onto the main thoroughfare, ducking into the side streets that intersected it. At the same time, a group of five individuals was heading in the opposite direction—directly toward him. Seh turned his focus on them. It was Mong, Sanfu, Hung, Gao, and NgGung.
“Don't give up that scroll!” Mong shouted to Seh, his deep, booming voice overpowering the shrieks and cries of the panicked crowd.