Time Leap (23 page)

Apart from the question
of appearance, there was the problem (for me anyway) of language.
What tongue did the locals speak at that time? According to Niki,
modern Mandarin is based on the standardisation of the language
which the Qin Dynasty introduced, and understanding and conversing
with the natives in modern Mandarin would be something akin to me
having a chat in modern English with Bill Shakespeare. Her own
modern accent and speech would naturally seem strange; but with so
many different kingdoms incorporated into the Qin Empire in 209BC,
hearing another dialect might not seem so uncommon.

However,
written language would be more difficult. Written Chinese at that
time was in a sort of logographic style, as it had been in the
earlier Zhou Dynasty. Nik said she’d seen these old characters, but
had no idea how to read them; so we’d just have to wing it as far
as that goes. Anyway, hopefully we wouldn’t have to read or write
anything (it’s not like there’s going to be signs saying:
‘
This way to the secret
Mausoleum’
). So it was decided: our next
big jump would be to Xi’an, China, 209 BC. We didn’t realise at the
time that it could be our last.

***

Thirty–Three

The biggest part of this
trip was not the time jump but the flight to China. We found a
British Airways flight to Xi’an which stopped off in Shanghai,
enabling us to visit one of Niki’s relatives en–route. The total
flight time was just under seventeen hours. We were going through
our wardrobes, looking for suitable clothes for the trip, when Niki
had an idea.

“
Why don’t we
take Smirnoff?”

“
Smirnoff?
Why?” I said.

“
It could be
dangerous over there at that time. Did you know that
Qin Er Shi
used to bury
scholars alive if they didn’t hand in their books for
burning?”

“
What! It
seems a little harsh. They used to
burn
books?
What sort of books… stuff against
the government you mean?”

“
Yeah.
Anything that challenged the law or state,” replied Nik.

“
Well, it
still happens today in some parts of the World,” I
observed.

“
And you don’t
want to be late for work if you’re employed in Qin’s
government.”

“
Why’s that?
Do they give you fifty lashes?”

“
No, they kill
you.”

“
Jesus! So
that’s why you think we need a bodyguard?”

“
It’s just an
idea.”

We were quiet for a
while. For some reason, I didn’t want to take Smirnoff this time.
It added an unnecessary complication to what should be a routine
trip. We weren’t going to kill anyone or change history, after all.
Then I had an idea. “How about taking your cousin Jin He instead?
He’s from Xi’an, speaks Chinese, and he could watch our backs. It
would be an eye–opener for him too.”

“
Then you
don’t mind sharing our secret with someone else?”

“
No… he’s not
just someone else – he’s family!”

Niki smiled. “Okay, great
idea!” I guessed she’d thought of Jin already, and suggesting
Smirnoff was just to get me used the idea of taking someone else
along. I was right.

The next step was to try
to make me look Chinese. Because of my large Western nose, Nik said
it was best to disguise me as someone from the West of China, where
it’s common for men to have larger noses. In that case, my skin
needed to be quite a bit darker, and my hair should be jet black.
Niki said she could do all this by herself, with the right type of
make–up and hair colour; but it might be better to get it done
professionally. As it happened, Jin He’s mother (Aunt Peng) used to
do stage make–up in Xi’an. Peng therefore seemed the perfect
solution. I left Nik to contact both her Aunt and Jin He whilst I
booked the flights.

*

Being
virtually free agents, Niki and I could choose just about any day
to travel to China. It was mid–October now and getting colder in
London. We didn’t want to wait until the winter, so I booked our
plane tickets for the last week in the month. We needed to have
clothing for London, Shanghai and Xi’an. The peasants’ rebellion
began in Xi’an in July 209 BC and ended in December – so jumping to
1
^st
September, 209 BC, seemed a good date to choose. What would
the climate in that part of China be like at that time I wondered?
From scanning the internet, it seems to have been generally mild,
but cold in the winter. Niki says it’s always better to be too hot
than too cold, so we made sure we took enough warm under clothing.
As regards style, Niki had already talked to Aunt Peng about
costumes during the Qin Dynasty, and she said she could help with
that. Naturally, Nik did not tell her we would be travelling 2200
years back in time – merely that we had been invited to an
elaborate fancy dress party in Xi’an.

Nik had also
chatted with Cousin Jin He. Although he is from Xi’an, he was
currently working in Shanghai, and that’s where we would meet up
with him. Jin He had chosen the English name ‘Magic’ (after the
ex–American basketball player Earvin ‘Magic’ Johnson, who was now a
multi–millionaire). Basketball is extremely popular in China – as
is making loads of money – so Magic seemed a good name. He was
thrilled at the idea of helping us in Xi’an, though Niki had not
yet given him the details (and not mentioned ‘time–travel’ of
course). With Magic’s work commitments, a weekend was best for him.
This was not a problem for us, and we arranged to fly together to
Xi’an on late Friday afternoon, 31
^st
October.

This was the
trip I had been waiting for... I just
had
to get this one on
camera.

***

Thirty–Four

Shanghai is an amazing
city. It’s divided by the Huangpu River into two main regions –
Puxi and Pudong. Due to the very modern buildings in Pudong, the
views across the river from Puxi side have been used as a back–drop
for many futuristic Sci–fi movies. From Pudong side, gazing in the
opposite direction, you would think you were looking at the
waterfront of an old European city. Other parts of the city are
distinctly Chinese – notably Yu Yuan Gardens. Shanghai is not
really a cosmopolitan metropolis like London or New York, but it
has the greatest western influence of all Chinese cities. It’s also
home to around twenty–five million people; you are never alone in
Shanghai.

Magic lived Puxi side in
an area called Hongqiao, not far from one of the two international
airports in the city, and also the high–speed rail hub. He was
currently working at an American bank in Shanghai, and got off
early that Tuesday afternoon to meet us at Pudong International
airport. It was great to see him again.

“
Joe… long
time no see!”

We had just met at the
arrivals section of the airport. Magic was looking well, and more
grown up than the last time we met. His English (Americanised) was
pretty good too. He’d studied in the US and clearly picked up both
the accent and a lot of self–confidence. He sat in the front seat
next to the driver, whilst Niki and I sat in the back.

“
So glad you
guys came over here!” he continued.

“
Thanks,” I
said. “We thought it was about time for a visit.”

“
Ling Ling –
nide toufa ting haode!
” he said to Niki,
complimenting her on her hairstyle. Then he turned back to me. “Hey
Joe – tell me about this project of yours – the one in
Xi’an.”

“
Oh, the
historical production! It’s going to be very, very authentic.
You’ll think you’re really back in 209 BCE China – trust
me.”

“
I’d no idea
you were into that sort of stuff! I thought you were just a money
man.”

“
Who says I
don’t want to make money doing this?” I replied.

Magic laughed and
continued to talk to Niki in Chinese for the rest of the journey.
By the time we arrived at his apartment, we were both very tired
and went for a rest in Magic’s spare bedroom. The clock said 6pm,
but we hadn’t slept well on the plane overnight due to the
turbulence (despite travelling first class). We fell fast asleep
very quickly and didn’t wake until 8am the next morning – we’d
slept for fourteen hours.

Magic had gone to work by
the time we were up. He left a note telling us to help ourselves to
breakfast and saying where everything was. We arranged to meet him
for dinner later that day after he’d finished work.

The next couple of days
were spent shopping (one of Niki’s favourite pastimes) and
preparing for our trip to Xi’an. Niki phoned Aunt Peng, who said
she’d booked a hotel for the two of us not far from her home. Magic
would stay with Peng, his mother. Friday came round quickly, and it
wasn’t long before we were on our way to the airport. This time we
didn’t need to travel all the way to Pudong, we could fly from
Hongqiao – just ten minutes on the Shanghai metro from Magic’s
apartment.

Magic was good company
and a great help. With Xi’an being his hometown, he was used to the
trip to Central China, though he would usually take the overnight
train rather than fly. It was so much more convenient to travel on
the new high speed railway system that had developed so quickly
across the country – no delays and without the high security checks
common at airports these days. But it still took a lot longer on
the train to Xi’an compared to the plane – so hence the reason we
flew.

After arriving at Xi’an’s
international airport, we took a taxi to Aunt Peng’s house. This
was situated in the south–west of the city, not far from the
Olympic Park. Since the Olympic Games in 2008, many parks across
China received the name ‘Olympic’, though it didn’t mean they were
used for the Olympic Games.

Aunt Peng was delighted
to see us. I’d just met her one time before – at our wedding – and
it was good to catch up. My Chinese is, well, crap, so Niki and
Magic translated for me defaulting to Chinese after a while, which
left me rather out of things. But I’m used to that when we visit
China. It was getting late by this time, so Magic took us to our
hotel. We arranged to see Aunt Peng at 10am the next
morning.

*

“
I can’t quite
believe we’re going to do this Nik,” I said as we lay in bed the
next day.

“
Do
what?”

“
Go back in
time and see Emperor Qin’s tomb.”

“
Don’t get too
excited – it might be the last thing you see!”

I wasn’t really worried
about the possible danger. I thought we’d be safe as long as the
three of us kept together.

“
Magic will
look after us,” I replied confidently, adding, “how are you going
to tell him about us travelling more than two thousand years back
in time?”

“
Oh, I’m
leaving that to you Joe.”

We had breakfast in the
hotel, and then ambled over to Aunt Peng’s. The story Nik had given
both Peng and Magic was that we were taking part in an historical
enactment of the death of Emperor Qin Shi Huang at the site of his
tomb. They didn’t question it, and Peng said she was glad to help
with make–up and costumes. She used to work part–time at the
Shaanxi Grand Opera House in Xi’an, and was very used to preparing
actors for performances of Chinese Opera. Magic was rather
reluctant to take part in our enactment at first, thinking that we
were going to look like old Opera stars (not very cool), but we
told him it would be nothing like that: we’d look like normal
people two thousand years ago. It would be fun – and we’d say
nothing to his friends or colleagues at work.

Apparently, Aunt Peng was
a master of her trade. Nik explained that I wanted to look Chinese,
and Peng suggested making me up like a Muslim from Xinjiang
Province in the west of China. There have been Muslims in that area
for more than 2000 years, she said, and it would not be so unusual
to see one in or around Xi’an. Peng agreed with Nik that my skin
needed to be a lot darker, and suggested a black wig, plus some
false facial hair. She said this was common in the make–up
department at the Theatre, and suggested we go there that
afternoon. As regards clothing, the way people dressed in those
times was well known to Peng, and she said we could borrow
something suitable from the Theatre using her contacts
there.

The Opera House is
situated very close to the south section of the old city wall. It
was a bright afternoon, and we walked along part of the wall en
route. It was in remarkably good condition, given that it was more
than 600 years old. Inside the theatre, Aunt Peng was clearly
well–known to the staff, and she had no problem taking us back
stage to the costume and make–up area. A big smile came over Nik’s
face as she saw the extensive wardrobes.

“
Women and
clothes, hey Magic?” I said to the young man. He had been unusually
quiet every since we arrived at Aunt Peng’s – not the outward,
funny young man who travelled with us from Shanghai. He just smiled
at my remark. “Everything okay?” I asked.