After lunch we wandered through the packed streets to the Pak Tai temple. The bun towers stood proudly outside the temple, enormous ten-metre-high bamboo cones held by a bamboo scaffold. The buns were strung around the outside of the cones.
The tradition was that at the end of the festival, after midnight on the final day, young men would climb the towers to retrieve the buns for the crowd; a good-luck race. But in 1978, one of the towers had collapsed and some of the bun racers had been killed. Since then the buns had been distributed to the islands residents by the clergy of the temple.
John wouldnt talk about what had happened in 78. Apparently he hadnt been present that year; normally he would have been there to make sure that nobody was injured. But in 78 he hadnt been able to make it, and wouldnt say why. It may have had something to do with him losing the Serpent about that time, but with a creature as strange as him it was impossible to tell.
Three enormous effigies had been constructed out of bamboo and brightly coloured paper, about five metres tall. They were of a black-skinned demonic-looking deity with horns; a benign elderly scholar with a flowing white beard and traditional robes; and another demonic-looking red-skinned figure. They were Dei Ching Wong, Ruler of the Underworld; Do Dei Gang, the Kitchen God; and Shang Shan, the God of Earth and Mountains.
There was no effigy of Pak Tai; he was far too awesome to be shown like that. But he would have his chance later.
After wed lit some incense at the temple and John had bought Simone a brightly coloured good-luck pinwheel, we wandered back to Johns house on the island. No motorised vehicles were permitted on Cheung Chau, so the streets could be very narrow.
We stopped at a plain concrete three-storey village-style house on the main thoroughfare. John pushed the door open.
The lower floor of the house was paved with pale green tiles and had bare concrete walls. The living room was minimally furnished with old-fashioned rosewood furniture and a stained coffee table, with a folding mah jong table. A set of rusting metal bunk beds with faded silk quilts folded at the feet stood against the wall on one side. It appeared to be a typical island village house, like many rented out for holiday weekends. John led us up the stairs to the second floor.
The second floor was plushly decorated with smooth cream Italian floor tiles and textured wallpaper. A comfortable leather lounge and a wide-screen television stood to one side and a rosewood six-seater dining table to the other. A well-fitted kitchen was at the back of the house, and Monica was already busy in there.
John opened the French doors onto the balcony. The balcony overlooked the main street of Cheung Chau, a perfect location for watching the parade. John gestured for me to sit at the outdoor table there, on one of the comfortable plastic chairs. Simone climbed into Johns lap and leaned on the railing. Monica brought us iced lemon tea; the day was already very warm and humid.
A lion dance led the procession, with three lions: one gold, one black and one red. The drummer did his best to bring down the houses, banging for all he was worth. A martial arts troupe followed, performing acrobatics as they passed us on the street.
Any of them ours? I said.
John shook his head.
A small altar followed, carried by four proud young men. I peered down to see inside; it held an effigy of a god seated on a throne with his hands on his knees, his black robes flowing around him and his long hair over his shoulder. His face was square and dark, and his bare feet perched on a snake and a turtle.
John squeezed Simone. She whispered in his ear and he nodded. She leaned back to stare at him, incredulous, and he nodded again. She collapsed over his lap laughing.
John and I shared a smile.
About twenty people followed, all holding lanterns with good-luck characters on them.
The next altar contained a serene goddess sitting on a lotus flower, wearing flowing white robes and holding a small bottle in her hand.
Aunty Kwan! Simone yelled, pointing.
Thats right, John said.
The next altar contained a goddess with colourful flowing robes and a benign smile. She wore a hat with a square brim with beads that hung in front of her face.
Tin Hau? Simone said, naming the Goddess of the Sea.
John nodded.
Do you know her? she said more softly, barely audible over the noise of the drums and gongs. John nodded again.
Do you know her? she said more softly, barely audible over the noise of the drums and gongs. John nodded again.
Simone turned back to the parade and jiggled with excitement in Johns lap.
The final altar contained Guan Di, the red-faced God of Justice, holding a huge halberd and glaring fiercely.
Hes actually a very nice man, John said into Simones ear. But he doesnt come for this. This is mostly for me.
Why you, Daddy?
A long time ago, a vicious band of pirates was attacking this island. The peaceful fishing folk here had no defence against them. The pirates attacked again and again. So I came down and had a small chat to them about their behaviour. They went away, and the people of the island built the temple for me, and hold the festival every year.
I heard you cured a plague, I said.
That too, John said, smiling. Im not sure if any of us remembers the exact origin of the festival. There were a few things. But the talk with the pirates is the one that sticks in my mind the most. He gestured over the balcony railing. Here come the Floating Children.
Floating Children? Simone squealed, standing to see better.
The five- or six-year-old children wore elaborate costumes and make-up. They were poised on the end of long steel poles, making their feet level with the heads of the crowd. But the poles were invisible, camouflaged by complicated accessories that matched the childrens costumes. The children appeared to be standing, but it was obvious that they sat on chairs inside the costumes.
The costumes depicted traditional mythical characters as well as modern celebrities and politicians. One little boy dressed as a fireman sprayed water into the crowd from his miniature fire hose, making the audience scream with delight. Many of the girls were dressed as fairies and spirits in flowing robes.
Uncle Sun! Simone yelled, pointing to a little boy who was dressed as the Monkey King.
It was dusk by the time the procession ended. Simone yawned furiously. We moved inside and Monica presented us with a vegetarian meal that we ate at the dining table next to the upstairs living room.
Later, as we shared a pot of tea and discussed the parade, a chorus of thumps echoed on the door downstairs. John nodded to Monica, who went to open it.
John rose and stood to one side, his face fierce. He gestured for me to stand next to him, and I did.
Monica led a Taoist priest up the stairs. He wore the full regalia of a senior practitioner: vividly coloured robes with yin-yang symbols on them, and a high, square black hat. The face under the hat was mid-forties, with a kind, jolly expression, and I liked him immediately.
When he reached the top of the stairs he took two steps into the room and then fell to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor. Man shui, man shui, man man shui.
Hei sun, John said, his voice clipped.
The priest rose, then bowed slightly from the waist, very serious. Celestial Highness. Welcome.
John gestured towards me, still very formal. This is my chosen, Lady Emma.
The priest bowed slightly to me as well, saluting. Maam.
Simone didnt bother with the formalities; she ran to the priest and raised her arms. Uncle Ming!
The priest lifted her, sat her on his hip, and kissed her on the cheek. He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a bun for her, which she accepted with delight. It was one of the buns from the three bun towers outside the temple; it had been stamped with a red good-luck motif. He carefully lowered Simone.
John gestured towards the couch and we all sat. Monica brought tea, and the priest poured. John nodded as he was served. Now the formalities were over we could all relax.
Its a tremendous honour to have you back here with us, Highness, the priest said. Its been a while.
Circumstances are quite difficult right now, John said. Even worse than 78. But in a couple of years I will be gone for a very long time. He lifted his tea cup and gestured towards me with it. Emma will be Regent.
The priest was obviously taken aback. The Celestial will permit a wedding in these circumstances?
No. But she will be Regent regardless.
You always were one for breaking the rules, Highness, the priest said, shaking his head with disbelief. He smiled at me. Did you have any idea what you were getting into?
No idea whatsoever, until it was too late. I shrugged. And now its definitely too late.
Kwan Yin herself has sponsored the Lady Emma, John said. She is one of the most talented practitioners of the Arts I have seen in centuries. She loves Simone as her own. She is my chosen.
I glanced at John, but he concentrated on the priest.
The priest bowed his head slightly to me. I will be honoured to serve you, my Lady.
John relaxed almost imperceptibly. Hed obviously been worried about the way the priest would receive me, but there didnt seem to be a problem. I was relieved as well.
Come up to the temple after the noise has died down and were not so busy, the priest said. Say hello to the acolytes. The renovations are finished, as well.
Do they know too? I said.
The priest smiled. Im the only one who knows, my Lady. It is a trust handed down to each senior priest of the temple as they take the post.
One of the most fun parts of the job, John said with amusement.
Oh, definitely, the priest said. My Master took a photo when the Dark Lord revealed his true nature to me, and had it over his desk for a long time.
That was the look I normally get, John said.
I was dying to ask about the arrangements that John had with the temple but it wasnt the polite time to talk business yet. Small talk for a while, still.
How go things on the Celestial? the priest said.
All is well. But, John leaned back slightly, there is a particular Demon Prince, number One Two Two, who has decided to make a bid for my head. His human name is Simon Wong.