Where the Mountain Meets the Moon

by Grace Lin

  And it was quite a chase, or it would’ve been if the beggar had realized he was being followed. He wove in and out, around people and bins of rice, each step taking them closer to the unused areas of the city. Behind a pile of discarded baskets, Minli thought she had lost him but luckily the gray sleeve of his loose jacket waved at her, and she saw him round the walled corner of the Inner City. As an abandoned wagon hid her from his view, she saw him push against a portion of the wall. With a slow groan, the wall moved!

  “It’s a secret door to the Inner City!” Minli gasped, and she was able to reach it just before it closed completely. With both hands she pressed hard against it and the door pushed open.

  And like a lid of a jewelry box, the door opened into a landscape of radiant colors. The bamboo, pine, and plum leaves seemed to shine in the sun as if carved from emeralds and the accents of the pink and red flowers were like nestled rubies. Steps away from her feet, Minli could see a patterned pathway made of water-worn pebbles. The central jade green lake mirrored the arching tiled roofs of the pavilions and the rough beauty of large weathered rock sculptures. A winding covered walkway lifted up from the cloudy water like a lotus flower. It could only be the Palace Garden.

  But Minli barely noticed this. Instead she stood with large eyes, staring at the figure in front of her. The beggar was wiping his face with a delicate white cloth and Minli saw again that he was not an old man at all. In fact, he was younger than Ba—the grey of his hair was wiped away with the cloth as well—and his beard and head were as glossy black as Minli’s. His gray rags had been cast off in a pile next to him and he was clothed in a bright yellow silk, the color of the sun. Intricate dragons and multicolored clouds that matched the designs of the gold bracelet he wore were embroidered on his robes and glittered in the light. There was no doubt now that he was the king.

  Then, the king turned around and saw her. At his glance, Minli shrank to the ground in a humble kowtow.

  “Your Majesty,” Minli breathed, and her knees could feel the thumping of her heart in her chest.

  “Caught!” Minli heard him say, and she peeked up to see the king looking at her with the same amused expression he’d had as a beggar watching the people eat the peaches. He shook his head at her. With his eyes twinkling at her, he could’ve been the young father of one of her village friends. “And by you,” he said, “my little benefactor. I knew you were a clever one.”

  “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” a chorus of voices came through the air toward them, and Minli could see a parade of servants in the distance running across the zigzagged bridge.

  “Well, you mustn’t be caught by them!” the king said to Minli. “Then they would find out all about my little adventures and then where will I be?” And he pulled Minli up to her feet and pushed her behind one of the giant gnarled stone carvings, kicking his rags over her. “Quickly, quickly!” he said. “And don’t say a word. I command you not to say a word or to come out until I say so.”

  Minli clutched the rough stone and made herself as small as possible. Hundreds of footsteps were approaching, like falling rain from a thunderstorm.

  “What is this?” the king demanded. “Has war been declared on the city?”

  “Your Majesty,” an out-of-breath voice said, “we have been searching for you…”

  “Searching for me?” the king said. “I have been here in the garden for hours.”

  “We… we must have missed you,” the voice stuttered. “None could find you… the guards had not seen you and we feared…”

  “You feared the King of the City of Bright Moonlight had been spirited away?” The king laughed. “Not this time, Counselor Chu. However, I do feel the wish to commune with the moon tonight.”

  “Your Majesty?” the voice said.

  “Yes,” the king said decisively. “Tonight, I wish to be alone in the garden with the moon. Have a meal brought to me in the Clasping the Moon Pavilion and do not disturb me until morning.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the voice said. And Minli couldn’t help but peek out. She saw rows and rows of finely dressed people kneeling with their heads on the ground in front of the king. Their rich silk clothing shimmered in the fading sunlight. One man, dressed in black, kneeled closer to the king, separate from the rest of the courtiers. Minli guessed he was Counselor Chu.

  “Actually, bring me two meals,” the king said, and glanced toward Minli. She caught his eye and quickly shrank back out of sight.

  “Two meals, Your Majesty?” Counselor Chu asked with just the faintest question in his voice.

  “Yes, two meals,” the king said. “I shall honor the spirit of the moon with her own meal, since she will be keeping me company. It is only fair.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the counselor said. Minli could only guess how puzzled he was, but he was well trained enough to keep it out of his voice.

  “In an hour’s time,” the king said, “I shall be at the Clasping the Moon Pavilion. I want the food waiting for me and nothing else. I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone this evening.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the voice said again, and Minli could hear the shuffling and swishing of silk as the group rose and took leave of the king.

  “They’ve gone,” the king said in a low voice. “You can come out now.”

  Minli crawled out from behind the sculpture.

  “Well, my little friend,” he said to her, “now that you know who I am, come walk with me and tell me who you are.”

  CHAPTER

  23

  Minli and the king walked through the garden and she told him her name and where she was from and about her journey. Remembering the fish’s warning, she carefully didn’t mention Dragon waiting for her in the forest. As they walked, the patterned stone pathways gently massaged her feet and the sun seemed to disappear like a closing flower. When they finally approached the pavilion, night had fallen.

  “So,” the king said, “now you have come here to find the Guardian of the City.”

  “Yes,” Minli said, and looked at him expectantly.

  “And you think the guardian is me,” the king said.

  “Yes,” Minli said. “Do you know what the borrowed line is? May I have it?”

  “The borrowed line,” the king repeated, and they stopped in front of the pavilion. The moon’s reflection fastened onto the water’s surface, and Minli saw why the pavilion was called Clasping the Moon. The image of the moon lay protected in the water like a glowing pearl, and the king stared at it deep in thought. “Come, let’s eat and then we’ll see what can be done about your borrowed line.”

  Minli entered the open-air pavilion. At the center, two stools and a small table of elaborately carved gingko wood waited for them. A large, finely woven bamboo basket as tall as Minli’s waist stood next to the chairs. The king eagerly lifted off its lid and rich, warm aromas floated in the air, making Minli’s stomach grumble.

  The king took out the plates of delicate pink shrimp dumplings, savory noodles and pork, dragon’s beard bean sprouts, emerald green chives, and a bowl of white jade tofu soup. A pot of tea and an assortment of cakes sat on the bottom layer of the basket, to finish off the dinner. The king handed Minli a pair of intricate gold chopsticks that weighed heavily in her hands, and with his urging, Minli began to eat what was easily the most delicious meal she had ever had.

  “I’m not sure what the borrowed line is that you are looking for,” the king told Minli as he sipped his tea. They had finished eating the main meal and she was enjoying a turtle-shaped cake filled with sweet and soft red bean paste, a taste not known to her before. As she swallowed, its richness seemed to warm her from her throat to her stomach. “But I think I can guess.”

  With great effort, Minli stopped eating and looked at him. “You can?” she asked, and suddenly a hope filled her. “What do you think it is?”

  “Do you know why this city is called the City of Bright Moonlight?” the king asked.

  Minli shook her head.


  “My great-great-grandfather changed the name of this city. It used to be called the City of the Far Remote. But after he came to power, he changed it to the City of Bright Moonlight,” the king said. “Most people thought it was because he had a poetic heart. But it was more than that. Have you heard the story of the magistrate that tried to outwit the Old Man of the Moon?”

  Minli nodded, “He tried to kill his son’s destined wife, but they ended up together anyway.”

  “Ah, you know the story.” The king smiled. “That magistrate was my great-great-grandfather’s father. And this city is the city that his son became king of through the marriage.”

  “So the story is real!” Minli said.

  “Well, it is a story that has been passed through my family for generations,” the king said. “But there’s more to it than what most have heard.”

  THE UNKNOWN PART OF THE STORY OF THE OLD MAN OF THE MOON

  After the Old Man of the Moon told the magistrate that his son would marry the daughter of a grocer, Magistrate Tiger flew into a rage. With both hands he grabbed the page and tore it from the book. But before he could rip the page in two, the Old Man’s eyes stared into his and the light of the moon seemed to bind the magistrate still. As the silence hung in the air, Magistrate Tiger’s anger turned to fear.

  But, finally, the Old Man of the Moon nodded at him grimly. “Pages of the Book of Fortune do not tear easily, but that paper was being sent to you before I borrowed it,” the Old Man said. “So perhaps it is only fitting that you finally receive it. Take it. The Book has bestowed some extra qualities to it, though they will be as useless to you as the original paper would have been.”

  And without another word, the Old Man of the Moon stood up and walked away up the mountain. The magistrate could do nothing but stare, clutching the ripped paper in dumbfounded silence.

  “He tore a page out of the Book of Fortune?” Minli said.

  “Yes,” the king said, “but he, himself, was never able to read it, so it remained useless to him just as the Old Man of the Moon said it would be.”

  “Come,” the king said as he walked out of the pavilion onto the bridge under the moon. As Minli followed, he reached inside the breast of his shirt, slowly took out a gold-threaded pouch, and said, “This is the ripped page. It has been passed down from generation to generation, studied by the kings of the City of Bright Moonlight. None of us has ever understood what the Old Man of the Moon meant when he said it was borrowed.”

  Minli watched, fascinated, as the king took from the gold pouch a delicate, folded piece of paper. Paler than even the white jade tofu she had eaten for dinner, the paper seemed to have a light of its own, dimming the gold threads of the pouch that held it.

  “It was my great-great-grandfather,” the king said, unfolding the paper, “who realized that the words on it can only be seen in the bright moonlight. He renamed the city the City of Bright Moonlight as a reminder for the kings that followed him.”

  Minli looked at the paper as if in a daze. In the moonlight, the page glowed. A single line of faint words, as if written with shadows, was scrawled upon the page in a language Minli had never seen.

  “So, I think this paper, which the Old Man of the Moon said he borrowed,” the king said, “this written line torn from the Book of Fortune is ‘the borrowed line’ you seek.”

  “Of course,” Minli said, and excitement bubbled inside of her, “it must be!” But her excitement popped as she looked at the carefully preserved page and remembered how the king had had it on his person, carefully and preciously kept in the pouch around his neck. It seemed impossible that he would give her such a cherished treasure.

  “It was only after much study that my great-great-grandfather was able to decipher the words,” the king said. “And that is when he realized that the words changed according to the situation at the time. From then on, whenever a King of the City of Bright Moonlight has had a problem, he consults the paper.”

  “And it tells you what to do?” Minli asked.

  “Yes.” The king gave a wry smile. “Though not the way you think. Sometimes the line on the page is more mysterious than the problem.”

  And with that, the king looked down at the line. As he read, a startled expression came across his face.

  “What does it say?” Minli asked.

  “It says,” the king said slowly, “You only lose what you cling to.”

  The king’s words seemed to hang in the air. All was silent except for the soft rustling of the page in the gentle breeze. Minli, unable to speak, watched it flutter as if it were waving at her.

  “So, it seems your request,” the king said, “deserves consideration. The line tells me as much. Let me think.”

  Minli looked at the king, quiet but puzzled.

  “For generations, my family has prized this paper; we have honored it for its spiritual power and authority. It has been passed on and studied and cherished and revered. It has been valued above gold or jade,” the king said slowly. “But what is it really?”

  Minli shook her head, unsure if she should respond.

  “It is, actually,” the king said, “simply proof of my ancestor’s rudeness, his unprincipled anger and ruthless greed. Yet we’ve disregarded that—instead we guard and protect this written line so dearly that the rulers of the City of Bright Moonlight carry it at all times, not daring to let it out of their possession.”

  The moon seemed to tremble as ripples spread over its reflection caught in the water. The king continued, again, speaking more to himself than to Minli.

  “We have clung to it, always afraid of losing it,” the king said. “But if I choose to release it, there is no loss. ”

  Minli felt her breath freeze in her chest. She knew the king’s mind was in a delicate balance. If he refused to give her the line now, she knew she would never get it.

  “And perhaps it was never meant for us to cling to. No matter whom the paper originally belonged to, this is a page from the Book of Fortune—a book that no one owns,” the king said. “So, perhaps, it is time for the paper to return to the book.”

  A wind skimmed the water, and Minli could see her anxious face as pale and as white as the moon reflected in it.

  “You only lose what you cling to,” the king repeated to himself. He glanced again at the paper and then looked at Minli. A serene expression settled on his face and then he quietly smiled and said, “So, by choosing to give you the line, I do not lose it.”

  And, with those words, he placed the paper in Minli’s trembling hands.

  CHAPTER

  24

  Outside the city, Dragon waited. Even after Minli had disappeared, the dragon still watched from the trees. He had felt odd when she had passed the old stone lions and the door had closed behind her. He realized that he had never had a friend before, and what a nice feeling it was to have one.

  And perhaps that was why the second night, when the sky darkened and the moon rose, Dragon crept out from the shadows of the trees and approached the closed, sleeping city. While he wouldn’t admit it, Dragon thought just standing by the walled city might make him feel just a bit less lonely.

  The silver moon cast a frosted glow upon the rough stone wall and guardian lion statues. Dragon stared at them as he approached the gate. Their stocky, heavily built bodies seemed to weigh down the stone platforms they sat upon; and the darkness of the night made their stiff, curly manes look like rows of carved blossoms. One lion held a round ball underneath his forearm; the other held down a lion cub that seemed to be grinning at him. In fact, all the lions seemed to be grinning at him as if he were a secret joke they were watching.

  “Am I so funny?” Dragon asked them as he passed.

  “YES!” burst out the small lion cub, wriggling free of his mother’s paw. “You’re very funny!”

  As Dragon jumped back in surprise, the lion cub laughed out loud, obviously highly amused at the dragon’s shock. But with his laugh, both adult lions shook themselves from th
eir platforms.

  “Xiao Mao!” the mother lion scolded. “Don’t laugh at the lost dragon. Besides, you know the rules. No moving in the presence of others.”

  “But it’s a dragon,” the cub said, “not a people. He doesn’t count for the rules, does he? Besides, he is funny! Big dragon trying to tiptoe like a mouse!”

  “Xiao Mao,” the deep, male voice of the other lion boomed in the air. The cub gave a halfhearted look of shame and was immediately quiet and still.

  By this time, Dragon had found his voice.

  “You’re alive, then,” he said.

  “Of course we are,” the male lion said, scrutinizing the dragon with interested eyes. “Everything’s alive—the ground you’re walking on, the bark of those trees. We were always alive, even before we were lions and were just raw stone. However, carving us did give us a bit more personality.”

  “You’re a fairly young dragon, aren’t you?” the female lion said kindly. “You seem only a hundred or a hundred and fifty years old. Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon enough.”

  “A hundred!” the lion cub said. “I’m much older than you. I’m eight hundred and sixty-eight!”

  “And you still have not attained wisdom,” the father lion told him. “Don’t tease the young one.”

  “Well, what are you doing here?” the cub asked, not unkindly. “Dragons don’t usually come down to the earth much. Are you lost?”

  Though unusual, the lions weren’t unfriendly, so Dragon settled down and told them the whole story—being born, living in the forest, meeting Minli, and now their travels to find the borrowed line and the Old Man of the Moon. The lions didn’t interrupt once, though the cub did snicker from time to time.

  “You belonged to Magistrate Tiger?” the cub said when Dragon had finished. “That means you’re the terrible dragon! You’re the one that destroyed the king’s father’s palace. What a lot of trouble you caused!”