The Third Messiah by Christopher West

Author:Christopher West
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 1999-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Wang wasn’t sure who to talk to first. In the end, chance decided. He called for the Master, but instead Sister Modesty appeared and told him that the Master was meditating and mustn’t be disturbed.

“Maybe you can help,” he replied, adapting his plan at once.

She forced a smile onto her face and stammered a positive reply.

“I want to have a look at the storerooms,” he continued. “You have the keys, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Will you come with me and open them?”

“If you wish it.” Wang was a little surprised by Modesty’s change of attitude. She was still finding it hard to co-operate, but was clearly now trying so to do. Why?

The two of them walked to the stores round the outside of the farmstead, as Modesty didn’t want to walk through the men’s section and didn’t want a policeman walking through the women’s section. When they reached the outbuildings, she fiddled slowly with her huge bunch of keys before finally unlocking the door. Wang observed this ritual with interest – keys might be important in the story – then entered the shed.

The place was dark inside, and had no lighting of its own. The small torch Wang always carried in his uniform belt illuminated a collection of items: digging tools, a row of sacks, a roll of polythene and some metal hoops, a shelf full of jars and, in one corner, some barrels. He crossed to one of the latter and sniffed the air around it, rumpling his nose with distaste.

“What’s in this?”

“Weedkiller,” Modesty replied calmly.

“Where did it come from?”

“A local farmer.”

“Name of…?”

“I don’t know. The Master dealt with him.”

“With no assistance?”

“He protected us from the world. Many of us have been cruelly treated by it.”

“I understand that,” said Wang. If he could get a proper conversation going with this new, friendlier Modesty, he might learn a lot. “Who among you handled the weedkiller?”

“Anyone leading a work party. That would be myself, Sister Verity, Qingai, Brother Reliant.”

“And nobody else? Who brought it to the shed?”

“It was delivered.”

Wang paused. He didn’t want to ask too many overt questions about the weedkiller. “Tell me more about your incense sticks,” he said instead. “What happens to them when they leave New Tianjing?”

“I don’t know.”

“What form do they leave in?”

“Bundles.”

“How many in a bundle?”

“I don’t know. Ask Sister Virtue, she’s in charge of the workshop.”

“Do you receive money for them?”

“Yes,” said the Sister, with a trace of shame.

“Do you know how much?”

“No.”

“Not even approximately?”

“I think it’s about a yuan a bundle.”

“One yuan?”

“Yes. It doesn’t sound much, but it mounts up.”

“I’m sure.” Wang tried to recall how many bundles there had been in the box he’d opened at Unit 32. A lot, certainly. And there had been columns and columns of boxes… “Tell me how the stick-making began.”

“The Lord Ye Huo Hua told us to start making them.”

“How?”

“Through the Golden Master’s dreams. The Lord Ye Huo Hua always spoke to us that way.” Modesty then looked at him and gave a sigh. “Ai, I can see you don’t believe me.

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