The Dragon and the Stars

by Derwin Mak

  Yes, Ning realized. How could the pond water compare to the pond itself? Maybe Papa missed his pond.

  Papa wasn’t doing any better the next morning. Since she was off school on Saturdays, she put him in a bucket and carried him off on her bicycle. Luckily, Uncle was at work.

  “Papa,” she said, staring at him in the bucket. He looked up at her with his round black eyes. “I’m going to put you in your pond for a while.” She caught his slick body and plopped him into a shallow recess of the pond where the reeds were growing.

  Seconds after Papa landed in the water, he blazed like a lantern in silver and gold, red and orange. Squealing, Ning clapped her hands.

  “Papa!”

  As she was jumping and laughing, Papa shot off in a brilliant streak.

  “Papa?” She stopped jumping. “Papa!”

  Ning dropped to the ground. “Papa, please come back. Papa ...” She covered her face with her hands. “Uncle will kill me.”

  For hours, she sat by the pond beneath the burning sun. Sweat rolled down her neck and back. Her stomach rumbled. But after she spent two to three hours clutching her belly, her hunger pangs disappeared. Still no sign of Papa.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured repeatedly.

  She drew her knees to her chest and hugged herself. Uncle would never forgive her. She recalled Aunt was due in a month or two. Very likely, they would both be busy with their baby and forget about her. The thought was small comfort, however.

  She waited till the sun dipped below the horizon of bamboo before trudging away morosely.

  “How could you be so stupid?” Uncle banged his hand against the door as he stared at Papa’s empty tank. “Anything can happen to your Papa now that he’s out in the wild.” Aunt patted his shoulder, but he shrugged her hand off.

  Ning cringed. “Sorry,” she said, clasping and twitching her hands behind her back. “I just wanted Papa to get better.”

  The furrows in Uncle’s forehead deepened. “And now he may get eaten by an eagle. Or just turn up dead one day because he’s all alone and defenseless. Stupid, stupid! ”

  “Ning was so worried over her Papa,” Aunt said.

  Uncle banged the door again. “Worry should not make you switch off your head.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ning wished she could sink into a dark hole. “I’ll go to the pond every day till I get him back.”

  As Ning promised, she watched the pond daily. During the weekdays, she headed there straight after school, ignoring her friends, and on the weekends she spent her daylight hours sitting by the water. Sometimes, she spotted flashes of light flitting far within the pond. But though she called, Papa never came. When she got home at dusk, she had to suffer Uncle’s glares and curt remarks. Over the days, Aunt gradually softened him. His brother was where he was happiest, she told him, to which he could not help but nod.

  Ning cringed whenever Uncle yelled at her and called her stupid. She was sure once their baby was born they would remember she was just someone else’s child, or worse, their bad niece who had failed to take care of her own father. Aunt was, as always, sweet to her, but once she had her own baby she would have no time for anyone else.

  Each night, Ning lay staring in the darkness for over an hour before dozing off. Ning imagined that if Mama were her human self she would lie with her in bed and hold her tight until she fell asleep. Everyone was upset with her, including her friends, who thought she had abandoned them. Liwei had called Ning three times over the first few evenings, but Ning always felt too troubled to talk. Thereafter, Liwei stopped calling.

  What hurt Ning most was seeing Papa’s empty tank. For the first few days, she kept it filled with water, but mosquitoes began to breed, so she had to empty it.

  At least now, strangely, Mama was quiet. She even chirped and sang sometimes.

  Exactly two weeks after Papa’s disappearance, he came to Ning in a trail of light. She’d been fretting by the pond the whole morning when suddenly she opened her eyes and spotted the approaching light. Papa’s head bobbed out the water and their eyes met. Gasping, Ning leaned over and dove her hands in to grab him. To her surprise, he didn’t struggle.

  Now that Papa was home once more, Uncle was all smiles, while Mama was back to her squawking self. Ning was beginning to wonder if Mama was jealous.

  Papa no longer glowed. Though he wasn’t sluggish, neither was he as lively as he was back in the pond. Had she been selfish in taking him away? Mama kept squawking whenever Ning was in their room, making Ning feel knotted in the chest.

  One day, Ning unlatched Mama’s cage door on impulse and flung it wide open. Mama froze, as if stunned.

  “Mama, I don’t know what’s bothering you. I guess I wouldn’t be happy either if I was locked up. Do you want to fly?” Ning’s heart pounded in her ears as she spoke, but she steeled herself.

  Mama twitched her head, then pecked at the seeds on her cage floor.

  To show her sincerity, Ning strode to the window, and with trembling hands, slid it open. The cool night breeze swept in.

  “Mama, do you want to fly back to the bamboo?” Perhaps a trip there would make Mama happy. And perhaps, like Papa, she too might return freely.

  Mama remained calm and didn’t fly out.

  “I don’t know what to do anymore, Mama,” Ning said. Leaving the window open, she plodded to her room and took a warm shower.

  When Ning returned to check on Papa and Mama before going to bed, she spotted Mama perched on the edge of Papa’s tank. At the sound of Ning’s entry, Mama flew back into her cage. Ning lingered in the room for half an hour, but Mama stayed still and silent behind bars that no longer locked her in.

  The next morning, Mama was gone.

  “Do you hate your parents?” Uncle asked, glaring down at Ning.

  Ning shook her head, feeling lightheaded.

  “Yes, your Mama was making a lot of noise. But how could you throw her out?” Uncle’s eyes burned with anger and disappointment. “What would happen to you if we threw you out?”

  Ning’s skin prickled. “I’m sorry, Uncle. I didn’t know what was wrong with Mama. I didn’t know what to do anymore, and I—I—”

  “Now your Mama is at the mercy of the outside world! ” Uncle raised his right hand, making Ning shrink back for fear he would hit her, but he just let his hand drop.

  “I’m sure Ning has her reasons,” Aunt said as she stroked Ning’s back.

  Ning sucked in a deep breath and gathered her courage. “I just wanted to make Mama happy.” She went on to describe how Mama had stopped screeching once the cage door was open, and how she had hopped onto Papa’s tank and waited till the next morning before leaving.

  After Ning was done speaking, Uncle just looked away and stormed out the room.

  “I know you only did what you thought was best.” Aunt squeezed Ning’s shoulder, but Ning didn’t feel any better.

  Every day, Ning visited the bamboo grove. Sometimes, when she was lucky, she spotted Mama flying or perched amongst the slender bamboo. Occasionally, she heard her sing. Despite the vibrant yellow and orange of Mama’s feathers, there were days when Ning missed glimpsing her. She often called to Mama, asking if she was okay. Once, Mama replied with a melodious trill.

  Papa grew more lethargic by the day. Ning was so concerned she spent less and less time at the bamboo grove. She realized the situation was dire when he went a whole day without touching the flakes of food she had strewn into his tank. Even Uncle was worried.

  “Maybe he needs to go back to his pond,” Aunt said as they stared at Papa in his tank.

  Uncle pursed his lips and slowly nodded. “I had thought to care for him, but—” He drooped his head, sighing.

  Ning bit her lip. “It’s my fault. I must have done something wrong. He’s supposed to be happier with us family, isn’t he?”

  Aunt put an arm across Ning’s shoulder and hugged her gently, keeping her other hand over her huge belly. “No, you’ve always done what you thought was bes
t. I think you’ve done a great job. Walk me back to my room, then go with Uncle to take your Papa back to his pond.”

  Ning held Aunt’s arm and blinked hard, for her eyes were beginning to smart.

  While Aunt rested in bed, Ning left with Uncle for the bamboo grove. This time, Papa rode at the back of Uncle’s bicycle in the same red bucket Uncle had put him in two years ago.

  The bamboo grove was alive with the chirping of insects. The sound calmed Ning as they got off their bicycles and continued on foot.

  “Soon,” Uncle told Papa.

  Soon, Ning thought, Papa would be happily glowing again. She heard a familiar warbling. As she glanced skyward, she spotted Mama flying from branch to branch with another bird. Like Mama, the bird was golden yellow, but except for its black chest, it had no peculiar color markings.

  “Look,” Ning said, pointing.

  Uncle smiled. “She found a friend.”

  “Yes.” Ning clapped her hands. “Mama, now you have someone to talk to.” How Papa and Mama must have suffered all along—so close to each other, yet separated in more ways than one. Though they still couldn’t be together, at least they’d have their own companions.

  Uncle grinned even wider when he saw Papa lighting up the water around him. “I’m sorry, you were right,” he said as the beam of light that was Papa cut across to the other side of the rippling pond.

  When they got home, Ning immediately picked up the phone and called Liwei. “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? We can watch TV later.”

  “Sure,” Liwei said after a moment’s silence. “What’s the occasion? You’ve been so busy these days.”

  Ning grinned. “Now I’m free.”

  For the next few days, Ning went out with her friends after school. Aunt and Uncle thought she spent each afternoon at the bamboo grove, but though Ning made it a point to visit, it was only for half to one hour before dusk. That really didn’t give Ning sufficient time to look for Papa or Mama, but it was enough for her just to be there. Ning didn’t tell Aunt about this. She didn’t want Aunt to think she cared any less for Papa and Mama. She knew, in the same way, just because Papa and Mama wanted to live out on their own didn’t mean they loved her any less. She remembered how Papa had come back for her sake and sacrificed his freedom, albeit temporarily.

  On Saturday morning, Ning decided to spend some quality time with Papa and Mama, assuming of course she could find them. She happily hummed Papa’s favorite tune as she rode her bicycle and carried seeds for Mama and fish food for Papa, although she didn’t know if they’d still care for such ordinary fare.

  When she reached the pond, she spotted flies buzzing about the water’s edge. Curious, she skipped over.

  Something was floating amongst the reeds.

  She screamed.

  Papa. His once bright black eyes were now sunken, his skin and scales were no longer incandescent, and his stomach was bloated. She stooped down, hands quivering as she lifted his lifeless body off the water. Her stomach churned.

  “Papa,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. What had happened? If she had only spent more time here yesterday and tried to look for him, she could have seen what was wrong. She bit her lower lip until she tasted blood.

  Ning sat for over an hour, staring at Papa as she swatted away flies and insects. A rank, fishy odor emanated from his motionless body.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a cracked voice she barely recognized. At the back of her mind, she knew Uncle would be furious, but she was too upset to feel afraid.

  The least she could do was give Papa a funeral. She carried his bloated body to his favorite spot along the banks where he used to sit and fish during his last life. There, she stooped down and clawed a hole in the ground.

  “Papa, wherever you’ll go, whatever you’ll be, I hope you’re always happy.” She pushed the dark, damp soil over him.

  Ning’s face was wet and smudged with dirt. She walked off, feeling numb. She stumbled a few times and tripped over a loose stone, grazing her knees and elbows. As she picked herself up, she heard Mama’s twitter. Glancing up in a daze, Ning spied her colorfully feathered Mama squatting in a nest wedged between several slender branches of bamboo.

  “Mama,” Ning said, and then her face contorted.

  Another bird chirped. Through bleary eyes, Ning saw beside Mama the same black-breasted yellow bird Uncle and she had seen the other day. It dawned on her that Mama had found a mate.

  Ning ran off, stomach churning. What about Papa, she wanted to shout. Poor Papa. He was dead, while Mama had a new love.

  When Ning returned home, the house was dark. She dashed about, bumping against doors and furniture, but she couldn’t find Aunt anywhere. At last, tired and bruised, she staggered into the kitchen and washed her face in the sink, which was still stacked with breakfast dishes. With a dripping face, she yanked open the freezer door and grabbed the tub of chocolate ice cream. As she slammed the door shut, she spotted a note Uncle had scrawled and stuck to the refrigerator with a frog magnet. In unusually haphazard writing, Uncle said tersely: Going to hospital.

  Ning dried her face on her sleeve. What had happened with Aunt? Would Aunt lose the baby just weeks before it was due? This was a day of ill fortune.

  Ning sprinted out the house, leaped onto her bicycle, and pedaled frantically. In less than twenty minutes, she was at the hospital.

  She found her uncle and aunt on the third floor. Aunt was sharing a room with a few other patients. She was sitting in bed without her glasses and cradling a bundle swathed in red cloth.

  Uncle and Aunt smiled at Ning, their brown eyes sparkling. Ning forced a smile back.

  “His name is Mingliang,” Uncle said, wrapping a warm hand around Ning’s left arm.

  Brightness. Ning’s eyes started welling up with tears again. Uncle had named his son for luminescent Papa, not knowing what had befallen him. She resolved not to tell them yet. A birth and a death—the two should not mix. She couldn’t ruin their happiness.

  “Why are you crying?” Aunt asked, brushing her fingers against Ning’s cheek.

  “My good niece is so happy, she weeps,” Uncle said, throwing an arm around Ning’s shoulders.

  “Look at him.” Aunt moved her sleeping baby closer to Ning. Mingliang had rosy cheeks and a round, chubby face that warmed Ning’s chest.

  “He’s cute,” Ning said, despite her churning stomach.

  The baby’s eyes fluttered open. As his dark brown eyes met hers, she felt a tingle, and a wave of warmth rushed through her.

  She knew him....

  “How are your Papa and Mama?” Uncle asked.

  Ning smiled, still staring into Mingliang’s eyes. “Happy.”

  Běidŏu

  Ken Liu

  IN 1590, the daimyo Toyotomi Hideyoshi completed the dream of his dead liege lord, Oda Nobunaga, and unified Japan by conquest. As kampaku to the figurehead Japanese Emperor Go-Yozei, Toyotomi was ruler of all Japan. Seeking to engrave his name eternally in history, he turned his eyes west to the glory of Joseon Korea and the beauty of Ming China.

  In 1591, Toyotomi demanded Korea’s surrender and aid in the conquest of China. King Seonjo refused, as Korea was a close ally of China. Toyotomi raised an army of one hundred and sixty thousand veterans hardened by decades of battle in Oda’s and Toyotomi’s domestic campaigns and invaded Korea in 1592. It was the largest army ever deployed in Northeast Asia up to that time.

  Within a few months, Hanseong and Pyongyang fell, and Toyotomi’s army occupied most of Korea. Villages burned while starving refugees streamed across the Yalu River into China. Only the tactical brilliance of Admiral Yi Sun-sin and his destruction of the Japanese fleet on the west side of the Korean Peninsula halted the Japanese advance. King Seonjo fled to the Chinese border and rushed waves of emissaries to Beijing for aid.

  In the private audience chamber of the Forbidden City, Tan Yuansi was struck by the youth of the Wanli Emperor. Save for his yellow robe and je
wel-encrusted belt, the Emperor could pass for any of the young xiùcái, the scholar-gentlemen who had passed the first level of the Imperial Examinations. The Emperor’s unlined face was kind, his eyes on the verge of a smile.

  “You know,” the Emperor said, “You are not supposed to look directly at me, and you haven’t properly paid me the respect of Five Bows and Three Kowtows.”

  Cold sweat broke out along Yuansi’s back, and the twenty-year-old infantry commander silently cursed himself. Not paying the Emperor the proper respect was not only discourteous, it indicated a rebellious heart. Immediately, Yuansi lowered his eyes, fell to his knees, and rushed to dip his head to the ground.

  But before his forehead touched the ground, a pair of strong hands held him up by the shoulders.

  “It’s all right,” the Emperor said. “I like the simple manners of soldiers, unadorned by the slavish habits of the Court. There was a time when an emperor and his general would sit on the floor as equals, but our simple Confucian ideals have become corrupted in these latter days.” He lifted Yuansi until he was standing. Then he pointed at a chair to the side. “Sit, and let’s talk about the situation in Korea.”

  Yuansi bowed and sat. “Bìxià, Your Imperial Majesty, I do not believe that Korean reports of the Japanese invasion force being but ‘a few thousand greenhorns’ are true. When I was a child, the Japanese wōkòu pirates who plagued my village in the Zhoushan Archipelago abducted me on a raid, and for many years I lived as one of them, learning their language and ways. We would beach our boats in a village, and swift-footed villagers would run to the local garrison to get help. We learned that those villagers always underreported the number of pirates who attacked them. If there were ten pirate ships, they would say there were only three, and if there were three pirate ships, they would say there was only one.”