Lee’s villa was just outside of the city, on one of a ring of hills that dominated the view of Wangchung and its harbor.  Jian was lucky to get a taxi, and it took some persuading (and a large tip) to convince the driver to take him there.
        The feline was freshly bathed and wearing his best suit, a formal black affair bought for him by Lee.  His brown headfur was carefully combed back and his shoes were shined to a high gloss.  He looked like a rather successful young businessfur or one of the many prominent government types that frequented the Governor’s Palace complex.
        But for all that, he felt very conspicuous as he walked alone through the entrance.  He nodded to the liveried servant just inside the foyer, who nodded back and winked at him. 
        Jian rolled his eyes and walked in.
        Soft music sounded throughout the house, and several couples were dancing to the latest records from America.  The small hired orchestra hadn’t started playing yet but could be seen tuning up in another room.
        He politely accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped at it, giving a gracious smile to several furs as they walked by.  A few others knew him from work, and eyed him as they walked past.  Jian stepped back to stand against a wall where he could try to remain unseen.
        “Alors, l’petit petasse.”
        Well, so much for staying unseen.
        Jian put his best smile on his muzzle and bowed politely as Lee’s wife, Lee Ching, strolled past on the arm of a rakish red panda wearing a formal Army uniform.  The doe had been educated by French tutors and rarely let anyone forget it, salting her Chinese with French expressions despite the fact that few could understand her.  She was dressed in a fine creamy yellow silk gown that accentuated her figure and set off her medium brown fur. 
        He had to admit that she was very attractive.
        He also had little idea what she called him, but knew that it probably wasn’t complimentary.
        “Jian!” her husband said, and he shifted the champagne glass to his other paw in order to shake paws with his superior.  Lee was dressed impeccably, a rose in his lapel and a tumbler of imported Scotch in his paw.  “I see you made it.  Very good to have you here.”  His paw lingered in Jian’s for a brief but significant moment.  “Very good.”
        “Thank you, sir,” the feline said, the tip of one ear flicking as his boss walked off to greet the Governor, who was just arriving.  The giant panda was ushered forward to be met by the real guests for tonight, a small collection of furs from Nanking.  After greetings and perhaps an hours’ worth of small talk were exchanged, dinner was announced.
        About time, Jian thought, I’m starving.
        The dinner ran through seven courses, with imported wines and delicacies that eventually sat in the young feline’s stomach like lead.  The unfamiliar liquor made his head buzz uncomfortably and his place at the table (in direct line of sight with Lee and, unfortunately, his wife) gave him the impression that he was a bug under a microscope.
        There was a pause after the meal so that the men could talk among themselves while the women went to freshen up.  Jian found himself mingling with the other men, talking about business.
        “I don’t care what anyone else says,” a low-level functionary from the War Ministry was saying.  The canine took a gulp of his whisky and added, “All the trends I’m seeing in my office say that we’ll be at war within two years.”
        “With who?” countered a red panda Jian recognized from the Trade Ministry.  “The mainland?”
        “The Japanese,” the canine said.  “Everyone knows they’re hungry for our resources.”
        The red panda seemed unimpressed.  “Everyone wants our resources.”  He seemed to notice Jian standing nearby, and pointed.  “Let’s ask him.”
        Jian glanced around and asked, “Me?”
        “Sure.  Guofeng and I are discussing whether we’ll be at war soon,” the panda said.  “You work in the Governor’s Office, Jian - what do you think?”
        The feline took a sip of his wine and thought for a moment before replying, “Neither – we’ll see the economy straighten itself out first.”
        “Why?” the canine demanded.
        “All the trends are heading in that direction,” Jian explained.  “Production’s starting to go back up, and more people are going back to work.  If we’re prosperous, we can afford to build up our defenses, so the Japanese won’t attack.”
        “And the mainland?”
        Jian grinned.  “They need us, and those old dragons in Nanking know it,” his voice lowering as he referred to the Nationalist regime.  “They wouldn’t risk a war on yet another front – their paws are already full with the Japanese and the Communists.”
        The red panda nodded, while the canine looked unconvinced and was about to raise another point when the orchestra started to play a lively tune by Vole Porter. 
        The women reappeared, led by Mrs. Lee who walked straight up to her husband and took his arm.  The look she gave Jian as they walked past to the dance floor made his ears want to go back, but he resisted the impulse.
        The music was good, though, and as the night progressed he put the best face on it.  He even mustered up enough courage to ask a young woman for a dance.  Jian wasn’t a bad dancer, and his relationship with Lee kept him aware of the latest steps. 
        When the dance ended, he got another drink and stood watching the other dancers when he felt a paw glide across his back and shoulders.  “You dance very well,” Lee whispered in his ear, “but I hope you have enough energy left to dance with me.”
        He resisted the sudden urge to stare down at the musk deer.  Lee was about an inch shorter than the feline, but made up for his height with his personality and his position of authority.  “H-here, sir?  That would be rather obvious.”
        A soft chuckle.  “No, silly.  Later.  My room,” and the paw slipped from his shoulder after giving a gentle squeeze.

        Jian drifted awake, aware of a pressing need to use the bathroom.  It was pitch black in the bedroom but he knew where everything was.  As he gently disentangled himself from Lee's grasp and slid from the bed, Jian's eyes adjusted to the darkness, making out the almost luminous white silk sheets covering the bed and his underwear contrasting against the dark carpet.  He reached for and put on his boxer shorts and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
        A few shafts of light showed under the door to Madam Lee’s bedroom, just down the hall.  He moved as quietly as he could to the bathroom, grateful for the chance to breathe a bit of fresh air.  One of the great disadvantages of musk deer is their rather strong scent, and he knew he would be spending some extra time in the morning scrubbing his fur to get the smell off.
        He had finished what he needed to do and was tiptoeing back to Lee’s room when the other door opened, transfixing him in a pool of light.  “So,” Lee Ching said, “I thought I heard someone.  Come in; I want to talk to you.”
        “Madam Lee – “ Jian started to say, but went quiet as she held up a paw.  His shoulders slumped as he followed her into the room and stood as she sat down.  He fancied she could hear his heart hammering in his chest from nervousness.
        Her bedroom was just as opulent as her husband’s, done in a creamy shade of off-white.  A book lay open on the bedside table, along with a glass of wine.  “I didn’t get the chance to speak to you during the party,” the doe said, “and it’s bad manners to offend a husband’s slut in public.”
        So, that was what she called him earlier.
        His ears laid back at the epithet, but he controlled himself.  “Madam Lee, your husband came to me, not the other way around.”
        “Hmm.”  She sounded unconvinced as she crossed her legs, a slipper dangling from one hoof.  “Nevertheless, you seem to be doing rather well for yourself,” she observed.  “And to be truthful, I’m glad Piao found you.”  A small curl of a smile.  “It gives me the chance to sleep.”
        Jian swallowed.  How brazen could the woman get?  “Um, I guess I should be getting back then.”
        “Of course, of course,” and Ching waved a dismissive paw.  “One night you will have to stop by and show me what you have that attracts my husband away from his place at my side, young Jian.”  With those words in his ears, the feline practically ran from the room.
        Once back in Piao’s darkened bedroom he got his breathing and his heartbeat under control before slipping off his boxers and getting back into bed.  As soon as he was comfortable he felt the buck roll over and drape an arm around his waist.
       

        Lee had left standing orders with his staff that Jian be driven back to his apartment early in the morning, so he would be able to show up for work on time.  Lee kept a more flexible schedule which was one of the prerogatives of being so close to the center of power.
        Jian opened the windows as soon as he entered the office since it promised to be yet another hot day.  He took his suit jacket off as well to enjoy the breeze coming in the windows and sat down to check over the items in his inbox.
        There were already several memos waiting for his superior to read, and he set these aside, then set about opening the morning mail.  He slit one envelope open and studied the contents.
        It looked like complete nonsense to him, just a jumble of English letters, so he refolded the letter and replaced it in the envelope.  After reviewing the rest of the mail he placed it on Lee’s desk and started reading a report from the Ministry of Agriculture.  Lee would want a summary typed up.

        The musk deer entered the building more than three hours later, and smiled at Jian as he walked into his office.  A few moments later and the feline’s ears perked as he heard Lee call out, “Jian!”
        “Yes, sir?” he asked as he walked in.
        “Close the door behind you,” and when the feline had done so the musk deer buck asked in an unexpectedly angry tone, “Who told you to open my mail?”
        “You did, sir, last month,” Jian replied.
        The reply brought Lee up short; he thought a moment, then nodded.  One of his ears flicked and his tail was flagging in agitation.  “I did, didn’t I?  Must be getting old.  Jian, what do you make of this?” and he flourished the letter with the strange writing on it.
        Jian replied, “Just gibberish, sir.  I figured it was private, which is why I put it back in the envelope instead of just putting it on your desk.”  His tail gestured toward the collection of letters on the desk blotter.
        “You were right, it was private.  I apologize if I sounded angry, Jian.  If you see any more like this, don’t bother opening it – just put it on my desk.”
        “Of course, sir.”
        The buck smiled.  “So, did you sleep well last night?” he asked, sitting down and gazing up at his subordinate.
        “Quite well, sir,” Jian replied.  “Your cook fixed me some breakfast before I left.”
        “Good.  I’d left instructions about that.  I’ll need that report summary as soon as possible, and I think we’ll be working through lunch today, Jian.  Have the kitchen staff prepare something.”  Lee started going over the rest of his mail as the feline bowed and left the office.
        Jian picked up the phone and made the necessary call downstairs, then busied himself with his paperwork.  Work helped push away the nagging feeling that he was somehow a bad person for allowing himself to be used.
        At lunch a white-coated member of the kitchen staff entered, pushing a small cart.  Jian thanked the cook and pushed the cart into Lee’s office. 
        He closed the door behind him.

        Several staffers shivered uncomfortably and avoided each others’ gazes as a series of rhythmic sounds penetrated the heavy wooden door, punctuated by the occasional pained moan.


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