by Grace Lin
“Nonsense!” the old man said, finally looking up. “You fool. This is the Book of Fortune. It holds all the knowledge of the world—the past, present, and future.”
The magistrate looked again at the marks on the page. “I cannot read it,” he said.
“Of course not,” the man said. “But I, the Old Man of the Moon, Guardian of the Book of Fortune, can read it. And with it, I can answer any question in the world.”
“You can answer any question in the world?” the magistrate scoffed. “Very well. Who will my son marry when he is of age?”
The Old Man of the Moon flipped the pages of the book. “Hmm,” he said to himself. “Yes, here it is… your son’s future wife is now the two-year-old daughter of a grocer in the next village.”
“The daughter of a grocer!” the magistrate spat.
“Yes,” the Old Man of the Moon continued. “Right now she is wrapped in a blue blanket embroidered with white rabbits, sitting on the lap of her blind grandmother in front of her house.”
“No!” the magistrate said. “I won’t allow it!”
“It’s true,” the Old Man said. “They are destined to be husband and wife. I, myself, tied the red cord that binds them.”
“What red cord?” Magistrate Tiger demanded.
“Do you know nothing? I tie together everyone who meets with these red threads.” The Old Man sighed, holding up his bag full of red string. “When you were born, I tied your ankle to your wife’s ankle with a red thread, and as you both grew older the line became shorter until you eventually met. All the people you’ve met in your life have been brought to you by the red cords I tied. I must have forgotten to tie the end of one of the lines, which is why you are meeting me now. I won’t do that again.”
“I don’t believe you,” the magistrate said.
“Believe or don’t believe,” the Old Man said, standing up and putting the big book on his back. “We have reached the end of our thread and I will now leave.”
The magistrate stared in dumbfounded silence as the Old Man of the Moon walked away up the mountain.
“Crazy old man,” the magistrate said finally. “What a waste of my time!”
The magistrate returned to his carriage and continued on. But as they drove through the next village, he saw an old blind woman holding a baby girl in front of a house. The girl was wrapped in a blue blanket embroidered with white rabbits, just as the Old Man of the Moon had said.
Magistrate Tiger burned with anger. “I will not let my son marry a grocer’s daughter!” he vowed. So, after he arrived at his guesthouse, the magistrate secretly ordered one of his servants to return to the grocer’s home and stab the girl with a knife. That will take care of her, he thought to himself.
Many years later, Magistrate Tiger had his dream fulfilled. He was finally able to obtain a match for his son with one of the emperor’s many granddaughters, and his son would inherit the rule of a remote city. On the wedding day, Magistrate Tiger bragged to his son about how he had arranged the marriage and outwitted the Man of the Moon. The son (who was not like his father) said nothing, but after the wedding ceremony, sent a trusted servant to find the grocer’s family to make amends. In the meantime, he became acquainted with his bride and was happy to find that both were pleased with each other. He found his new wife beautiful, the only oddity about her being that she always wore a delicate flower on her forehead.
“Dear Wife,” he said, “why do you always wear that flower? Even to sleep, you never remove it.”
“It is to hide my scar,” she said, touching her forehead in embarrassment. “When I was a child no older than two, a strange man stabbed me with a knife. I survived, but I still have this scar.”
And at that moment, the trusted servant came rushing in. “Master,” he said, “I made the inquiries you asked for. In a flood many years ago, the grocer’s family perished—except for the daughter. The king of the city (the emperor’s ninth son) then adopted the daughter and raised her as his own… and that daughter is your wife!”
“So the Old Man of the Moon was right!” Minli said.
“Of course he was,” Ba replied. “The Old Man of the Moon knows everything and can answer any question you ask.”
“I should ask him how to bring fortune to our house!” Minli said. “He would know, I’ll ask him. Where do I find him?”
“They say he lives on top of Never-Ending Mountain,” Ba said. “But no one I have ever spoken to knows where that is.”
“Maybe we can find out,” Minli said.
“Oh, Minli!” Ma said impatiently. “Bringing fortune to our house! Making Fruitless Mountain bloom! You’re always wishing to do impossible things! Stop believing stories and stop wasting your time.”
“Stories are not a waste of time,” Ba said.
“Stories,” Ma said, slapping her hands against the table, making the water in the fishbowl sway as she stood up and left the table, “are what wasted money on this goldfish.”
Minli stared down at her rice bowl; the few white grains left sat like precious pearls at the bottom of her bowl. Ba patted her arm. “Eat all your rice, Daughter,” he said, and with his shaking hands, he scooped the last of his own rice to feed the fish.
CHAPTER
4
That night Minli could not sleep. Ma’s words echoed in her ears and when she closed her eyes she saw Ba’s hand, shaking from hard work, feeding the goldfish.
Ma is right, Minli thought to herself. The goldfish is just another mouth to feed. I can’t let Ba feed the goldfish. Ma and Ba work so hard for every grain of rice, Ba shouldn’t have to feed the goldfish too.
Minli slipped quietly out of her bed and crept to the table where the goldfish was. They stared at each other and Minli knew what she had to do. Quickly, slipping on her shoes and jacket, she took the goldfish and left the house.
It was late. The village was quietly asleep and the stars above filled the sky like spilled salt on dried seaweed. Minli’s footsteps seemed to hush the night as she made her way toward the Jade River.
At the edge of the river, Minli looked at her goldfish one last time. The moon shone above so even in the darkness of the night, the fish seemed to burn a bright orange. Its black eyes sparkled at her.
“I’m sorry I can’t keep you,” Minli whispered. “I hope you will be all right in the river.” And with those words, she emptied the bowl into the water. For a moment the fish seemed shocked and was still, like a flickering flame on a match. Then it wiggled in the water and swam in circles, a joyful fire twirling in the water.
Minli watched it and sighed. As the sound faded into the night, Minli realized it was an echo of her mother’s impatient, frustrated noise. “Ma will never stop sighing unless our fortune changes. But how will it ever change?” Minli asked ruefully. “I guess that is just another question for the Old Man of the Moon. Too bad no one knows how to get to Never-Ending Mountain to ask him anything.”
The fish stopped swimming and looked up at Minli.
“I know where it is,” it said. The female voice was high and soft, like the wind whistling through the reeds of the water.
Minli stared. “Did you say something?” she asked.
“Yes,” the fish said. “I know how you can get to Never-Ending Mountain and ask the Old Man of the Moon a question.”
“You’re a talking fish?” Minli asked, her words tumbling into each other with excitement. “How can you talk?”
“Most fish talk,” the fish said, “if you are willing to listen. One, of course, must want to hear.”
“I do,” Minli said, enthralled and eager. This was just like one of Ba’s stories! She bubbled with excitement. “How do you know the way to Never-Ending Mountain?”
“I’ve swum all the oceans and rivers, except for one,” the fish said, “and on my way to the last, the goldfish man caught me. I despaired in his cart, for I have seen and learned much of the world, including the way to Never-Ending Mountain. Since you have set me free, I wil
l tell you.”
“You’ve swum all the oceans and rivers?” Minli asked. The questions spilled like overflowing water. “Which river haven’t you seen? Why have you traveled so much? Where is Never-Ending Mountain? When did…”
“This river is the one river I have not swum,” the fish interrupted, “and I have waited a long time to see it. So I would like to start as soon as possible. You can ask the Old Man of the Moon all your other questions. Let me tell you the way to him so I can be off.”
Minli nodded and asked no more. She realized she was having a conversation with a goldfish, which was very unusual, so she decided to listen.
CHAPTER
5
The next morning, Minli felt as if her head was spinning with thoughts and plans. She was so busy thinking and plotting that she barely noticed her parents nodding sadly at each other when they saw the empty fishbowl. And in the fields, when Minli worked as if in a daze, her parents said nothing about her slow and messy planting.
When the sun began to set and Minli went home to make dinner, she quickly washed and made the rice. Then she set the table for two people, sat down and wrote this note:
Dear Ma and Ba,
I am going to Never-Ending Mountain to ask the Old Man of the Moon how I can change our fortune. I might be away for many days, but don’t worry, I will be fine. When I come back, we will be able to fill our house with gold and jade.
Love, your obedient daughter,
Minli
The obedient part isn’t completely true, Minli thought to herself, as she knew her parents would not be happy to find her gone. But it’s not false either. They didn’t say I couldn’t go, so I’m not being disobedient.
Still, Minli knew that wasn’t entirely right either. But she shook away her uneasy feelings and prepared for her journey. On a blanket, she put:
a needle
a pair of chopsticks
her white rabbit rice bowl
a small piece of dried bamboo
a hollow gourd full of water
a small knife
a fishnet
some uncooked rice
a large pot
and the one remaining copper coin
Then she wrapped her blanket into a bag, tied it on her back, and took a last look at the shabby house. Through the window, Fruitless Mountain stood like a shadow, but Minli closed her eyes and imagined the house shimmering with gold and the mountain jade green with trees, and smiled. Then, she opened the door and left.
CHAPTER
6
As Minli left the house, she was afraid some of her neighbors would stop her or ask where she was going. She felt she must look mysterious, with a large bag on her back and full of excitement. But no one noticed her. The neighbors kept sweeping their doorways, hanging their laundry, and preparing dinner. A boy and girl continued their fight over a pretend feast of mud. When the mother called them for dinner, both refused to move, each clinging to their dishes of wet dirt; Minli had to smile at their foolishness.
So Minli walked right out of the village without causing a second glance. At the edge of the village, she turned toward Fruitless Mountain.
At the bottom of the mountain, she unwrapped her blanket and took out her knife, needle, rice bowl, bamboo piece, and jug of water. Then, trying to remember all of the goldfish’s instructions, she cracked off a small bit of stone and rubbed it up and down the needle ninety-nine times before tossing it back to the ground. Then she filled her rice bowl halfway with water and let the bamboo float in it. After that, she picked up the needle and looked at the white rabbit on her bowl.
“Okay,” she said to the jumping rabbit, “lead the way.” And she placed the needle onto the bamboo. Like magic, the needle spun around. Minli smiled.
“Thank you,” Minli said again to the painted rabbit. “Now, I’ll follow where you want me to go!”
Minli packed up her things and, carefully holding the bowl in her hand, walked in the direction of the needle, past Fruitless Mountain. “Goodbye, Jade Dragon,” Minli said as she left. “When I come back I will know how to make you happy again!”
Minli walked and walked and the stony land slowly turned into forest. Even when the moon was high in the sky, she continued. “I want to make sure I walk far enough that if Ma and Ba begin to look for me, they can’t find me,” Minli said to herself. The fallen leaves made a soft carpet for her feet and the night birds flew into the sky as she passed. Only when the sky lightened to gray and the sun began to peek over the horizon did Minli sit down and rest against a tall tree. She had traveled deep into the forest, far from her village and her home. She was so tired that she quickly fell asleep.
CHAPTER
7
The sun had set and the moon was just beginning to rise in the sky when Ma and Ba returned home from the fields. Even though they could smell the steam from the rice cooking, they noticed the house was strangely dark and quiet.
“Why is Minli sitting in the darkness?” Ma wondered as they approached the house.
“Perhaps she is sad about giving up her goldfish,” Ba said as he shook his head.
“Can our fortune be any poorer?” Ma sighed. “We cannot even feed a goldfish for our daughter.”
But as Minli’s parents entered the house and read her note, Ma made a noise like a shrieking cat.
“I spoke too soon,” Ma cried. “Our fortune is now the worst, for our only daughter is gone!”
“Quiet, quiet, Wife,” Ba hushed her. “If we move quickly, we can find her and bring her back home.”
Ba hurriedly took out his cloth sack and gathered blankets and filled an empty bottle with water. “She has had almost half a day to travel ahead,” he said. “It might take us some time to find her.” Ma watched him and then began to pack the cooked rice into a traveling box. But she continued to weep. “It is all the stories you told her,” Ma sobbed. “She believed them and now is looking for fairy tales.”
Her words cut into Ba like slices from a knife but, even though his face was pained, he said nothing and continued to pack. His hands trembled as he tied the bag closed, but they were gentle when he put them on Ma’s shoulder. “Let us go,” he said.
As they left the house, many of their neighbors poked their heads out their doors. They had heard Ma’s scream through the thin walls of their closely spaced houses and wanted to know what had happened. When Ma and Ba told them, it seemed as if the whole village poured out from their homes.
“Never-Ending Mountain? The Old Man of the Moon? Changing your fortune?” the neighbors said, “You better go find her or else she will never return. Foolish Minli! She is trying to do the impossible!”
Each villager pointed and nodded toward the direction they had seen Minli last. Some had seen her heading home, others toward the rice fields. But finally, a small boy was heard. “Minli left toward Fruitless Mountain,” he said. “I saw her with her pack. She went that way.”
So with the villagers waving them goodbye, Ma and Ba walked toward Fruitless Mountain, their dark shadows trailing behind them in the moonlight. But when they reached the mountain, they looked at each other uncertainly.
“Where did she go from here?” Ba wondered and he lit the lantern in his hand. The soft light seemed to warm the air and soften the growing darkness.
“Here!” Ma cried out, pointing to the ground. “There are footprints going toward the woods. Maybe they are Minli’s!”
Ba looked at the footprints. There was another mark accompanying them, a long pulling line. Ba pointed at them, “But what is that?” he wondered.
“Maybe Minli was dragging a walking stick,” Ma said. “The footprints could be hers.”
Ba looked again at the footprints. They seemed small and nimble. “Perhaps they are,” Ba said. “Let’s follow them.”
And so they did.
CHAPTER
8
Minli woke up when the sun was high in the sky and burning with light. Even in the shade of the forest, Minli’s bl
ack head burned hot. As she woke up, she looked at her jug of water. Since she had used some of it for her compass and had drunk some during her night walk, it was only half full. She sipped it and tried not to think about Ma and Ba finding her note. “I hope they understand,” Minli said to herself, shifting the weight of the water jug on her shoulders uncomfortably.
Minli walked west again. A couple moments later, she sipped her jug again. She tried to drink sparingly, but even through the leaves of the trees, the yellow sun glared down at her. Soon, her empty jug was bouncing against her arm when she heard a faint noise running through the trees.
“That’s water trickling!” she said to herself as she turned toward the sound. “There’s water here somewhere.” Soon she noticed a small stream, running with clear sparkling water. She eagerly bent down to drink and fill her jug, but as soon as Minli tasted the water she spit it out!
“Salt water!” Minli exclaimed. “This water is salty!”
As she sat back, Minli began to wonder, “How is this stream salty? I am far from the ocean. This is very strange.” And unable to contain her curiosity, Minli forgot about her thirst and began to follow it.
The stream widened and deepened, becoming more of a river than a stream. Just as Minli began to think that she should return to her journey, she began to hear deep moans that gently shook the earth.
“Who’s there?” Minli shouted.
“Help!” a muffled voice whimpered. “Can you help me?”
“I’m coming!” Minli called. She quickly put down her compass on the side of the water, and waded in. The water was warm, like bathwater, and clear as glass. Minli could see her feet and all the stones and leaves at the bottom of the stream. As she moved toward the voice the water rose higher and higher, to her knees and then almost to her neck.