by Grace Lin
Dragon looked at the older lions questioningly.
“About one hundred years ago,” the female lion said, “the king’s father fled his home village. A dragon had destroyed his palace and his people cast him out, saying he was bad luck. He came here, intending to make his home with his son and to live off his son’s wealth and power as the King of the City of Bright Moonlight. There were bad times here for the city, as the king’s father and the officials he brought with him were corrupt and greedy. We were very concerned.”
“You?” the dragon asked. “Why would it concern you?”
“Why would it concern us? It is completely our concern!” the male lion said. “We are the Guardians of the City. It’s our responsibility to watch and keep the city turning. To see it begin to crack alarmed us to no end.” And the lion held out the round ball he held in his hand and showed Dragon an old, deep fracture that was slowly being filled with the dust of the earth.
“What did you do?” Dragon asked.
A STRING OF DESTINY
We were afraid the city would break. As the times became more turbulent with secret meetings and violent outbursts, we watched the crack in our world widen. It was only a matter of time, we thought, before it would tear into two.
One night, as we despaired, we saw a figure walking in the moonlight. Bent and old, he glowed like a lit lantern. When we saw he was carrying a large book and a small sack, we knew instantly it was the Old Man of the Moon and called him over.
“Please help us,” we begged him, “we need to keep the city together.”
The Old Man of the Moon looked at us, our outstretched cracking globe, and our pleading faces. Without a word, he sat down before us and opened his book, leafing through the pages and stroking his beard.
After several minutes of consulting his book, he opened his sack and handed us a red thread.
“You are to hold this until it is needed,” the Old Man told us, and then slapped his book shut and walked away, ignoring our words of thanks.
We knew the Old Man of the Moon had given us a string of destiny, one of the very strings he used to bind people together. It was a marvelous gift. While he left us no instructions, we guessed that we were to use it to tie around the city if it looked as if it were to split.
After that, night after night, we watched our sphere, ready to use the string at the first signs of breakage. Unsure of its power or abilities, we dared not use it for anything but the direst of circumstances.
But the crack did not grow. Unexpectedly, the king renounced his father. He exiled him and his officials from the city and harmony returned. Slowly, the fracture has filled with the powder of earth and stone. And I have held the string, unused.
And as the male lion finished, he lifted his paw, to reveal a flattened line of red thread.
“The borrowed line!” Dragon said. “That’s it! Minli said she needed to get the borrowed line from the Guardian of the City! You’re the guardian and that’s the borrowed line we need!”
“I suppose it is,” the lion said, looking at the string. “So, perhaps I have been holding it all this time so I could give it to you.”
And the lion dropped the string into the dragon’s outstretched hand.
CHAPTER
25
Ma and Ba found the days without Minli long and difficult. In the morning, as soon as they woke up, they rushed to Minli’s bed to see if she was there. In the afternoon, they hurried from the fields, hoping to find Minli waiting at home. And at night, with a rice bowl and a set of chopsticks waiting for her at the table, they looked up at every sound of footsteps.
But an empty bed and house always greeted them, and the footsteps always belonged to a passing neighbor. While Ma’s anger had disappeared with the goldfish man, she grew a little thinner and paler every day, and Ba’s eyes no longer twinkled.
And one evening, in the middle of the night, Ba woke up alone in bed to a voice calling.
“Wake up, old man!” the fish said. “Wake up! Your wife needs you.”
Ba quickly rose and looked for Ma, who was sitting by Minli’s bed. In the stillness of the darkness, Ma shook with sobs.
“Oh, Wife,” Ba said softly, sitting next to her.
Ma turned to him, her face shiny from wet tears. “What if Minli never returns?” Ma said. “What if we are always without her?”
Ba put his hand over his face, brushing away the tears that were forming in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Neither do I,” Ma said, and she buried her face in Minli’s bed, crying in despair.
Ba stroked her hair as she wept, occasionally closing his eyes as he fought his own gloom. Finally, as Ma’s crying slowed and calmed, Ba said, “Do you remember the story I told you about the paper of happiness? And the secret, which was one word written over and over again?”
The back of Ma’s head nodded and Ba allowed himself a small smile.
“I have thought a long time about what that word could have been,” Ba said. “Was it wisdom or honor? Love or truth? For a long time I liked to think that the word was kindness.”
Ma’s face remained hidden in Minli’s bed, but her sobs had stopped and Ba knew she was listening.
“But now,” Ba said, “I think, perhaps, the word was faith.”
A faint, gray light seeped into the room, as if the moon was escaping from the clouds. Ma lifted her head and looked at Ba again. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and gave him a small, sad smile.
“Perhaps,” she said, “perhaps, you are right.”
And she placed her hand, wet with tears, in his.
CHAPTER
26
The next morning, Minli woke up alone under a heavy, rich blanket. Even though she was on the floor of the garden pagoda, she had slept comfortably, and as she sat up she realized that was probably due to the silk pillows she had been lying on. The soft sunlight cast leaf shadows across her face and the wind made gentle ripples in the moss-colored lake in front of her. The Imperial Garden was just as beautiful in the day as it was by night.
On one side of her lay a small table with a small pot of tea, a bowl of rice porridge, and tea-stained eggs. “Breakfast,” Minli thought to herself, but before she reached for it she saw that a yellow brocade traveling bag lay on the other side of her. Inside the bag, Minli found her humble blanket, rabbit rice bowl (with needle and bamboo piece), chopsticks, a generous supply of cakes, and her hollow gourd full of fresh water. On the very top lay the gold threaded pouch that held the ripped page of fortune. Minli took the pouch and held it with two hands.
Well, I have the borrowed line, Minli thought. At least I hope it is.
So after a quick breakfast, Minli quietly left the pavilion. Part of her was tempted to explore the mosaic walkways through the jewel-colored leaves, but she knew being discovered by one of the king’s councilors would be disastrous. Also, she knew Dragon was patiently waiting outside the city. So, using the king’s secret door, Minli carefully left the garden and walls of the Inner City.
And when she was out of the garden, Minli realized it was very early morning. The Outer City was still sleeping; the stands were bare and the umbrellas were closed. Quickly, Minli scurried to the gate. With great effort she was able to get through—she had to use a metal pole she’d found on the ground to lift the lock and lever one of the doors open. Even then, she was only able to get it open a crack and had to squeeze.
As she fell through the gate, gasping for air, she was shocked to see Dragon lying in front of the stone lions, sleeping.
It took a couple of prods before Dragon woke, and his loud morning yawns almost put Minli in a panic, but they were able to get back to the hiding shelter of the forest before anyone saw them.
“What were you doing by the city?” Minli asked. “You were supposed to stay hidden!”
“I was getting the borrowed line,” Dragon said.
“What do you mean?” Minli said. “I have the borrowed line.”
And in a rush, the two of th
em told each other about their night adventures. Dragon stared at the ripped page from the book and Minli looked at the red cord in Dragon’s hand.
“So which is the real borrowed line?” Dragon asked Minli.
“I guess that is another question we’ll have to ask the Old Man of the Moon,” Minli said.
CHAPTER
27
With both borrowed lines, Minli and the dragon continued their journey. Minli remade her compass with her rabbit rice bowl and followed the needle’s pointed direction. As they traveled, the land became more barren, rocky, and steep. Without trees to tame it, the wind blew wildly, burning Minli’s cheeks red with cold. The icy air shoved and pushed them, as if trying to keep them back.
Late in the afternoon, after traveling up stony ground, Dragon made a noise. “Look up ahead,” he said.
Far ahead of them seemed to be a spot of bright yellow. Against the gray landscape it seemed like a fallen piece of gold.
“Is it a forest? Trees with yellow leaves?” Minli asked, then she looked at the gray stone surrounding them. “But what trees could grow here?”
“I think there is a village,” Dragon said, squinting his eyes. “If there is, we can get you some warmer clothes.” Even though the cold hadn’t bothered the dragon, he had noticed her shivering.
“We won’t reach it before night,” Minli said, “but I think there’s a cave up ahead. Let’s stay there for the night and tomorrow we’ll try to reach the village or whatever it is.”
The dragon agreed and they made camp in the cave. The king’s supply of traveling cakes saved her and Dragon from hunger, but Minli wished for the thick silk blanket. Even in the shelter of the cave, away from the wind, the earth was stark and cold. Minli built a fire as quickly as she could and sighed as its warmth slowly heated the air.
But that night, Minli could not fall asleep. Even with the dragon snoring behind her, the fire crackling, and her blanket around her shoulders, her eyes did not close. Like the stone dust that the wind blew, thoughts kept circling in her head. She kept thinking about Ma and Ba and the orphan buffalo boy. With pangs of guilt, she thought about how Ma and Ba pushed her to go home early from the field, how her rice bowl was always the first filled, how every night when she went to sleep in her warm bed she knew they were there, and how worried they must have been that now she was not. The buffalo boy didn’t have that. Instead he had a dirt floor, a pile of grass for his bed, a muddy buffalo, and a secretive friend. Yet he turned away her copper coin and laughed in the sun. Minli couldn’t quite understand it and, somehow, felt ashamed.
But just as Minli shook her head with confusion, there was a sudden sound outside the cave. What was that? She cocked her head. There it was again, like a low grumble of thunder. Was it going to rain? Minli quietly got up and slipped out of the cave to see.
But when she got outside, she screamed! The noise had not been the grumble of thunder, it had been a growl of a TIGER! The giant tiger snarled and then jumped right at Minli!
CHAPTER
28
The wind screamed as Ma and Ba ate their dinner. The shutters of their house waved and slammed, shaking the house, and the light from their lantern wavered. They looked at each other and wordlessly went to the window.
“There is fear in the wind,” the fish said, “great worry.”
“Is it a storm?” Ma asked.
Ba looked at the fish. It stared at him with big eyes.
“I’m not sure,” Ba said.
The tree branches bent in the wind violently, as if being shaken by the sky. The wind shrieked again, and the cold air gusted into the house. The water in the fishbowl rippled and the fish swayed in the bowl. Both Ma and Ba shivered.
“Do you think Minli is outside in this…” Ma faltered.
“I hope not,” Ba said. The wind continued slap the house and trees, the whole earth seemed to shudder at the screeching wind. Only the moon above was still.
Ba looked at Ma and saw her soundless lips move as she gazed at the moon. He knew what she was doing and did the same.
“Please,” he implored the moon, silently, “please watch over Minli. Please keep her safe.”
The moon continued to shine.
CHAPTER
29
Minli’s scream seemed to freeze in the air. The tiger leapt at her, his scowling mouth glittering with pointed teeth, his blade-like claws rushing toward her. Minli knew there was no escape.
But! A flash of red violently knocked the attacking claw away. Minli gasped as Dragon roared, the tiger’s claws ripping into his arm. With the brutal force of his other arm, the dragon threw the tiger back—forcing it to fly in the air.
“GO AWAY!” Dragon thundered, in a voice that even made Minli quake. She would never have imagined Dragon could speak that way.
The tiger glared like a spoiled child. Minli could now see it was not an ordinary tiger. It was bigger than a horse or buffalo and it was a dark, dusty green like the color of sand dirtied from ocean foam. Even in the dim light of the moon, Minli could see its eyes glower with malevolence.
“GO!” Dragon commanded again. Minli realized she had forgotten how big Dragon was. The tiger was large, but Dragon was bigger—though the viciousness of the tiger’s expression made them seem evenly matched.
But the tiger gave another malicious snarl and turned away. Dragon stood his full height until even the tiger’s moonlit shadow disappeared from view.
“Are you all right?” Dragon asked finally.
“That tiger…,” Minli said in a daze, “that tiger was going to kill me!”
“I know,” Dragon said. “That tiger was truly evil. When you screamed, I could feel it.”
And strangely, without knowing why, Minli burst into tears. The tiger’s roars still echoed in her ears and she could still see his cruel claws and eyes. Now that he was gone, her terror flooded out of her.
“It is okay,” the dragon said, gently putting his arm on her shoulders.
It was then Minli saw the four long gashes bleeding on Dragon’s arm. The tiger’s claws had been sharp and the slashes were deep. Minli shook herself and brushed her tears away. “You’re hurt,” Minli said, looking at the cuts, which were already starting to swell.
“It is all right,” Dragon said. “Don’t worry. Dragons heal quickly.”
They walked back into the cave and Minli poured water on the wounds to clean them. She wrapped her blanket around Dragon’s arm, but it continued to slowly bleed. As he lay down, Minli noticed Dragon’s eyes fade and blur.
“I am starting to feel strange,” Dragon said huskily. “Perhaps I will sleep.”
“Okay,” Minli said, “you sleep. Maybe when you wake up, you’ll feel better.”
But Minli felt as if she had swallowed a frozen rock. Something was wrong with Dragon. She knew it. Throughout the night, his breathing grew hoarser and his skin was damp. Every time she unwrapped the blanket, she grimaced—the ugly wounds had turned black, and evil-looking liquid was starting to seep. Minli shivered, and it was not from the cold.
He’s getting weaker, Minli thought. Something is very wrong. I have to do something. Dragon needs help. But I don’t want to leave him. What am I going to do?
By the time the first light of the sun crept into the cave, Dragon’s breathing was rough; when Minli shook him, he did not wake up. Minli felt a surge of panic. I don’t know what to do, she thought desperately. Her quickthinking mind darted like a flustered butterfly. I know, she thought. I’ll go to that village. Maybe someone there will know what to do.
Minli stood up and whispered into Dragon’s ear, “I’m going to get help. I’ll be back soon, I promise. Just hold on until then, okay?”
But Dragon did not respond and Minli felt tears start to form in her eyes. Quickly, without even gathering her things, she turned and left.
It was mid-morning outside and Minli squinted in the sun. The wind still blew bitterly, but she didn’t even notice. Instead, Minli began to run toward th
e patch of yellow in the distance.
CHAPTER
30
Minli’s feet pounded against the rocky ground, fighting the uneven earth as she climbed upward. It was difficult. The wind-carved rocks and boulders seemed to grow from the ground like trees, confusing her way and disrupting her balance. Minli was so intent on her movement that she almost didn’t notice a low growl. But she halted as soon as she heard it. The tiger!
She could see the tip of its green tail ahead over one of the large misshapen rocks. Quietly, she grabbed a sharp-looking stone from the ground and crept forward.
There it was, in a clearing of flat stone—the evil animal was pacing back and forth as if it were waiting. Minli tightened her grip on the stone.
Then she gasped. A plump little girl, dressed in brilliant red, was running toward the tiger! Before Minli could scream a warning, someone from behind her pulled her down and covered her mouth.
“Shhh!” the voice said, and Minli looked into the eyes of a small boy, who seemed to be the same age as the girl. Underneath a gray blanket he was using like a cape, she could see flashes of quilted red clothing that matched the girl’s. His face was round and pink, as if it were more used to laughing than the serious frown it wore now. She nodded at his panicked gestures to keep quiet.
“Oh, Great Green Tiger!” The little girl threw herself on the ground in a trembling kowtow before the beast. “Powerful Spirit of the magistrate my worthless ancestors angered! My brother and I were sent to you as the sacrifice you demanded.”
The tiger roared furiously and the girl cowered.
“I’m sorry,” the girl said, her voice quivering. “My brother and I were both sent to you, but on the way here, another monstrous beast attacked us! He took my brother and so there is only me.”
The tiger made an outraged sound.