by Grace Lin
“Your Magnificence”—the emissary trembled—“as I felt the secret was for your eyes only, I did not read the paper before it was lost. However, as it was in the air, all could see that there was a single line of words on it.”
“What did the line say?” the magistrate demanded.
“I don’t know, Magistrate,” the emissary said, “but there was one soldier who almost caught it and was closest to it. Perhaps he was able to read the line.”
So the soldier was called in, and very humbly did he bow. He was little more than a boy and had only recently joined the magistrate’s army from a small, poor, faraway village.
“You,” the magistrate said, “you were the only soldier close enough to the paper to read the line. What did it say?”
The boy flushed and his head touched the floor as he bowed again.
“Great Magistrate, I am your poor servant,” he said. “I was close enough to see the line on the page… however, I cannot read. I do not know what the line said.”
Magistrate Tiger scowled with irritation and the emissary and the soldier shivered.
“I… I did notice something,” the soldier said.
“What?” the magistrate demanded.
“There was only one character on the page,” the soldier said. “The line was one word written over and over again, many times.”
“One word?” the magistrate snarled, and his anger seemed to burn deep in his eyes. “One word is the secret to happiness? It was a trick! The family must have thought they could deceive me! Emissary, gather all of my troops. I, personally, will get the secret of happiness and punish that family of lowly dogs!”
So, the next day, with Magistrate Tiger and his entire army prepared for destruction, the emissary led the way to the home of the happy family. But when they arrived, nothing was there! No house, no chickens or sheep, no family! Instead, there was only a flat plain, as if the whole home had been scooped from the earth.
Magistrate Tiger scowled at the blank ground with rage and vowed to punish the family for their dis-respect. But while he glared, the wind blew and covered him with a grayish green dust. As he stood like a green powdered statue, he felt as if the sky were laughing at him.
“So, I think Minli, like the secret word and the paper of happiness,” Ba said, “is not meant to be found.” He glanced at Ma and while she did not meet his gaze, she made no objection either.
“And, tomorrow,” Ba continued, gently, “we should return and wait for her to come home.”
Again, Ma said nothing but barely, perhaps only because he was looking for it, she nodded. Ba nodded back at her and quietly took some rice and dropped it into the fishbowl.
CHAPTER
16
Feasting on juicy peaches, Minli and the dragon walked through the woods for many days. At night, when the dragon slept, Minli missed Ma and Ba. “But this is for our fortune, so they don’t have to work so hard anymore,” Minli told herself when she thought about the worry they must have been feeling. “When I get back, Ba can rest and Ma will never have to sigh again. They’ll see.” But the lonely moon never seemed to gaze comfortably down at her.
One day Minli and the dragon came upon a body of water. In the distance, they saw the woods continue. As the compass pointed across the water, the dragon swam the inlet with Minli riding his back.
“How far do we go before we get to Never-Ending Mountain?” the dragon asked.
“Well,” Minli said slowly, “the fish said to go west until I reached the City of Bright Moonlight. Once there, I’m supposed to find the Guardian of the City.”
“The Guardian?” Dragon said. “Who is that?”
“I’m not sure,” Minli said. “The king of the city, I guess. Once I find him, I’m supposed to ask for the borrowed line, which, according to the fish, is something I’ll need for Never-Ending Mountain.”
“The borrowed line?” the dragon asked. “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” Minli said. “The fish didn’t tell me.”
“You did not ask?” The dragon almost stopped swimming in surprise.
“I didn’t want to delay her,” Minli said. “She was in a rush.”
The dragon shook his head and opened his mouth to say something when they both heard a strange sound next to them in the water.
“Aunt Jin! Aunt Jin!” a voice said. “Is it you? You came back like you said!”
Dragon and Minli looked in the water and saw a large orange fish with a black fin swimming next to them. It looked a lot like Minli’s goldfish but larger.
“I think you have me mixed up with someone else,” Minli said to the fish.
“I was speaking to the dragon,” the fish said, “but you must not be Aunt Jin either.”
“Well”—the dragon looked down at the fish with a wry smile—“either one of us would be a very strange relative to you, Fish. Why did you think I was your aunt?”
“Because Aunt Jin always said she would come back to show us the Dragon Gate was real,” the fish said.
“What do you mean?” Minli asked. “Dragon Gate? What’s that?”
THE STORY OF THE DRAGON GATE
Even though no fish has seen the Dragon Gate, we all know about it. Perhaps the story was told to us through the waves of water while we were eggs or whispered to us by the roots of the lotus flowers.
We all know that somewhere in one of the rivers of the land, there is a great and powerful waterfall; it is so high and so vast that it is as if water were gushing from a cut in the heavens. At the top of that waterfall, beyond anyone’s view, is the Dragon Gate.
The Dragon Gate is an entryway to the sky. It is old, so old that it’s possible that the gray stone columns grew from the mountain it stands on. Wind and time have worn and smoothed the gate’s tiered placards that barely show the old carvings of the five colored clouds of heaven.
Above the placards are the tiled arches the same color as the misty sky. Nine hundred and ninety-nine small dragon ornaments perch on the ridges of those tiled roofs. Each one is intricately formed to the smallest detail and, even weathered as they are, the black pearl eyes still flash with a mysterious power. That is because these dragons are not mere decoration—they hold the secret to the Dragon Gate.
For if ever a fish is able to swim up the waterfall and pass through the gate, the dragons will shake with power. As the fish goes through, its spirit enters the gate and bursts out of one of the ornaments—changing the fish into the form of a flying dragon!
“So the Dragon Gate transforms fish into dragons, a wish many of us hold deep in our hearts,” the fish finished. “None know who first told the story, or if it is even a story at all. But Aunt Jin was determined to find out. She said she was going to search all the rivers of the land for it and if she found it she’d come back here as a dragon, to show us. That’s why I thought you might be her.”
“Did your aunt look like you?” Minli asked, “Orange with a black fin?”
“Yes,” the fish said, “but much smaller, the size of a copper coin.”
“It doesn’t seem likely that a fish that small could swim up a waterfall,” Dragon said. “Even if she does find the right river, she might not be able to get to the gate.”
“If there is a gate, Aunt Jin will find a way through it,” the fish said. “She’s very wise. If you knew her, you’d understand.”
“Maybe I do know her,” Minli said softly, thinking hard about the goldfish she’d set free. Could it be that her goldfish, who had swum all the rivers except one, had been Jin searching for the Dragon Gate?
“If you are not Aunt Jin,” the fish said to the dragon, interrupting Minli’s thoughts, “why are you swimming across the river? Why don’t you just fly?”
“He can’t fly,” Minli answered for the dragon, when she saw his discomfort. “We are going to go see the Old Man of the Moon to ask him how to change that. But we have to cross the river to get to the City of Bright Moonlight first.”
“Old Man of the Moon?” the fish
said. “Good luck! Finding him will be harder than finding the Dragon Gate!”
Minli and the dragon looked at each other and shrugged.
“But the City of Bright Moonlight is just past the forest, over there,” the fish continued. “Swim over to this side and you can see it in the distance.”
And, just as the fish said, Minli and the dragon saw the city. An enormous wall, like a giant patchwork curtain of stone, surrounded the thousands of houses of the city. And almost glowing with the splendor of its red columns and golden top, a palace stood up over the clusters of buildings in the far center—like a glorious boat floating above the waves of the scalloped rooftop tiles. Even from a distance, the city looked majestic.
“If you are stopping at the City of Bright Moonlight,” the fish continued, “I think Dragon here should probably try to stay hidden. People of Bright Moonlight might be shocked to see a real dragon. The last dragon sighted was about a hundred years ago—and it destroyed the king’s father’s palace in a city in the East. They might not take too kindly to you.”
“That is good to know,” Minli said. “It might be better if I go into the city by myself.”
“Yes,” the dragon agreed, “I can hide at the edge of the forest and wait for you.”
“They close the wall at night,” the fish said, “so if you are in the city at night, you have to stay until morning.”
“Do not worry,” Dragon said to Minli, “I will wait.”
“Well, you’re almost to land,” the fish said, “so I’ll leave you. If you ever see another dragon, find out if it’s my Aunt Jin. Hope you get to meet the Old Man of the Moon. Good luck!”
Minli and the dragon watched the fish swim away. Then they made their way to the land and the City of Bright Moonlight.
CHAPTER
17
Minli gulped as she walked toward the gray stone wall of the city. As she passed the two stone lions marking the entrance, she glanced behind her. Even though she only saw the trees and shadows, she knew the dragon was hidden there. Quickly, she pushed through the doors of gate, leaving the forest and the dragon behind her.
As the gate closed, Minli stared. The streets were crowded and bustling; the city seemed to be bubbling with people like boiling rice. Vendors selling fruit and shoes called out their wares while people rushed past—some pushing wheelbarrows or balancing baskets on their shoulders. A large muddy water buffalo, led by a boy perhaps a year or two older than Minli, wandered through and was ignored as a commonplace occurrence.
“Watch out, Little Mouse,” a gruff man said behind her, his baskets of cabbages driving her into the crowd. As she was shoved and pushed, Minli grabbed the arm of the boy with the water buffalo.
“Hi,” she said. “If I want to see the king, where do I go?”
“The king?” The boy looked at her in surprise. “You’d have to go to the palace.”
“How do I get to the palace?” Minli asked.
“Just follow the black stones,” the boy said, pointing at the road paved with polished bricks. “They’ll lead you to the City.”
“Wait,” Minli said, “isn’t this the City? The palace is in another city?”
“You must not be from around here,” the boy laughed, “the City of Bright Moonlight is divided into two. This is the Outer City, where anyone can live and travel. The Inner City is where the palace is, where the king and officials live. You have to have permission to go into the Inner City. If you don’t, you’re not going to be able to see the king or the palace. There are thousands of guards protecting the Inner City; they won’t let anyone through without permission.”
“I’ll find a way,” Minli said, confidently. “Thanks.” And she let go of the boy’s arm and headed toward the black road.
However, as Minli got closer to the Inner City, she realized the boy was right. The red walls of the Inner City loomed tall and forbidding, and every gold-studded gate door was guarded by at least two soldiers, their silver armor reflecting in the hot sun. It would be a daunting task just to enter the Inner City, much less find the palace and the king.
“But I must,” Minli said to herself. Regardless, the guards’ faces were stern and hard, and she quaked inside. If I ask to go in, Minli thought as she hung back amongst the fruit stands and fish vendors, they’ll ignore me or force me away with their swords. And either way, I won’t be able to see the king. What should I do?
“Not as easy as you thought, huh?” a voice said next to her. Minli turned and saw the buffalo boy standing next to her.
Minli gave him a wry look. Boys, she thought to herself, always thinking they know everything. Still, she had to admit, he was right. She had no idea how she would see the king. “They must let people into the Inner City sometimes,” Minli said.
“They do,” the boy said. “Once a year at the Moon Festival, they open the gates to everyone.”
“When’s the Moon Festival?” Minli asked.
“Already happened,” the boy said. “You’ll have to wait until next year.”
Minli bit her lip in frustration. What was she going to do?
“I don’t know why you want to go in there so badly,” the boy said. “The buildings and clothes are nicer, but the people! A bunch of puffed-up frogs! At the Moon Festival one of the stable men wanted to order me around and thought he could trick me into thinking he was the king. But when I asked why he wasn’t wearing a golden dragon, he knew his prank wasn’t going to work. Did he think I was stupid? Everyone knows a golden dragon is always and only worn by kings and the emperor. The people in there think we’re a bunch of dumb oxen.”
The buffalo beside the boy gave a snort at that. “Sorry,” the boy said, patting the buffalo on the nose, “you know I didn’t mean that.”
But by this time, the Inner City guards had seen them lingering by the gate.
“You there, kids,” one of them barked. “Move along!”
“Come on,” the boy said, tugging Minli’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”
Minli followed him and the buffalo. “Where are you going?” she asked him.
“I’m going home,” he said. “You can come too, if you want.”
And since Minli had no place else to go, she did.
CHAPTER
18
Minli followed the boy through the maze of streets and alleyways for what seemed like a long time. If it wasn’t for the big buffalo that was always in view, Minli would’ve easily lost him many times. “Not too far now,” the boy said to her.
Minli realized that the boy lived very far from the Inner City. The road was no longer stone, but dirt. Even from a distance, she could see that the Outer City wall was cracked and broken. “I live over here,” the boy said, pointing. And Minli looked down a muddy path that led to a shabby, rickety hut that looked as if the first strong wind would blow it away.
The boy brought the buffalo right into the hut, and Minli went in after. She looked around the small, meager home. The only furnishings Minli could see were two wooden crates and a rough stool. On one side of the hut a crude metal grate stood in the fireplace with a well-worn pot on it. The other half of the hut was divided into two piles of dry grass. Minli watched as the buffalo went directly to one pile and lay down. The boy gave it an affectionate slap on the side and dragged the rough wooden stool across the floor to her.
“Here, have a seat,” he said as he sprawled onto the other pile of grass, “and tell me why you want to go to the palace so much.”
“It’s not the palace,” Minli said as she sat on the stool, “I want to see the king.” And she told the buffalo boy the whole story. She saw his face wrinkle with disbelief when she talked about the fish and he shook his head when she told about the dragon, but he didn’t interrupt once.
“I don’t know how you are going to see the king,” the boy told her when she finished. “Even if you do see him, I doubt you’ll be able to ask for a borrowed line, especially when you don’t even know what it is!”
“But I have
to,” Minli said. “There must be a way.”
“Well, I always think better after I’ve eaten,” the boy said, and he stood up and opened one of the crates. “Let’s have dinner.”
While he fried the plain bamboo shoots in the pot over the fireplace, Minli looked around the bare room.
“Do you live by yourself?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.” The boy nodded. “My parents died four years ago. Ever since then, it’s been me and the buffalo.”
He spoke almost carelessly, without anger or self-pity. Suddenly, Minli thought about her own home—the wood floor always swept by Ma, the extra blanket Ba put over her when the wind blew cold—and she felt a strange tightness in her throat.
The boy finished cooking and pushed the cooked bamboo, like thinly sliced pieces of yellow wood, onto a plate. He only had one plate so he set it on the stool next to the three peaches Minli had left, and both sat cross-legged on the ground. She took out her chopsticks (he only had one pair of those as well) and each picked and ate with the stool as a table and the single plate between them.
“You don’t have any aunts or uncles?” Minli asked. “Other family or friends?”
“Well,” the boy said, tossed a peach to the buffalo, and then hesitated. “I do have one friend.” And Minli was surprised to see his face change unexpectedly. The sharpness of his expression softened like a flower blossoming, his small smile gentle.
“Who is it?” Minli asked.
THE STORY OF THE BUFFALO BOY’S FRIEND
Sometimes, during the hot summer days, there is not enough water for my buffalo, so I like to take him out of the city into the surrounding forest to drink in the stream there. One day, I brought him to the forest and he kept pulling and pushing me away from the stream. No matter what I did, he refused to go in my direction. So finally, I just let him lead the way.
And he brought me to a part of the forest I had never seen before, a part I don’t think anyone from the city has ever seen before. The trees seemed to reach the clouds, the green grass felt like a silk blanket, and there was a lake of clear water, so pure and clean it looked as if it were a piece of the sky. But the most beautiful things there were the seven girls swimming in it.