Where the Mountain Meets the Moon
Page 14
The goldfish man, speechless with surprise, let himself be led through the gate doors. Was this the mother with angry eyes he had met in the woods long ago? Yes, this pleasant-faced woman, her plum-colored coat embroidered with flowering trees, was the same person. He shook his head in disbelief.
As he glanced upward, he realized the courtyard was like a well for the sky—the stars and night seemed to flow into it endlessly. Was the courtyard built for just that purpose? he wondered. Light from the house streamed through the lattice-patterned doors, illuminating the enclosure like a lit lantern. There, the father was surrounded by visiting children, whom the goldfish man recognized as his earlier customers. Some of the children were playing on the ground with clay toys of boys, buffalo, monkeys, and rabbits while others were being served tea by the father. “This tea is a gift from our faraway friends,” the father was saying as he handed a child a cup. “They call it Dragon Well…”
“Husband,” the woman called. “Husband! Look who is here!”
As he caught sight of the goldfish man, the father stopped in mid-sentence, and his face broke into a wide smile. “Ah!” he cried. “Dear friend!”
And like the mother, before letting him bow politely, the father embraced him warmly. “Come,” the father said, “have some tea. My wife will bring out some cakes and snacks.”
The goldfish man finally found his voice. “I am glad to see you and your wife so happy and prosperous,” he said. “I only stopped to see if… last time we met… how is your daughter?”
“Minli?” the father said, laughing, waving his hand toward the house. “She is in the back. She will be happy to see you too, but she will come out later. This is the time of night she likes to watch the moon.”
“She returned, then?” the goldfish man asked. “I thought she would. What happened?”
“Ah, my friend.” Ba laughed again. “You have come at the right time. Why do you think these children are here? They come here every night because they want to hear the story again—the story of Minli’s journey to and from Never-Ending Mountain! Come, sit! You can hear it for the first time.”
The goldfish man sat down willingly on a stone seat and found a fragrant cup of tea in his hand. The children clamored around Ba, each more excited than the last and eager for the story to begin. But as Ma went inside the house to get refreshments, she left the door wide open and the goldfish man could not help peering in.
He could see all the way through the house to the back courtyard, where the figure of a young girl sat on a bench, a small pond of fish at her feet. The moonlight washed over everything like a rich bath of gold and silver, making the fish shimmer like pearls and the girl glow with a magical glory reserved for the stars of heaven. But Minli was obviously unaware of all around her, lost in faraway dreams. For even in the misty light, the goldfish man could see her smiling a secret smile up to the sky to where the mountain meets the moon.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
By the age of eleven, I had fully disregarded my Asian heritage. My wise mother, knowing that any type of forced cultural exposure would lead to scorn, silently left half a dozen Chinese folktale and fairy-tale books on the bookshelf. Unable to resist the pull of a new book, I very quietly began to read them.
At first I was disappointed. The translation from Chinese to English had left the stories extremely thin and at times rough and hard to understand. There were hardly any details or descriptions and the plain illustrations would be best described as rudimentary.
But slowly I began to overlook these flaws. Even in the barest of states, the timeless stories had a charm of their own—and I began to add my own details to the stories. My imagination disregarded dynasties and historical elements, and I filled the stories with my own images and fanciful layers.
Over time, I began to embrace my roots. I visited Hong Kong, Taiwan, and China and was able to steep myself with the vastness of those lands; the stories that I had read and imagined seemed to come alive again. But the stories continued to deviate, tinged with my Asian-American sensibilities. I found myself enjoying the Chinese tradition of homophonic puns, but I conceived them in English. I invented storylines for one-sentence legends, created histories for nondescript mythical characters, and pictured a Chinese girl free of real-life cultural limitations as a spirited heroine.
And these are the stories and characters that make up Where the Mountain Meets the Moon. It is a fantasy inspired by the Chinese folktales that enchanted me in my youth and the land and culture that fascinates me in my adulthood. I hope there is magic in it for you as well.
Some of the books that inspired
WHERE THE MOUNTAIN MEETS THE MOON
Birch, Cyril. Tales from China (Oxford Myths and Legends). New York: Oxford University Press, 2000.
Editorial Committee of The Overseas Chinese Library. Folk Stories Number 2002. Taipei: The Overseas Chinese Library, 1985.
Editorial Committee of The Overseas Chinese Library. Stories From Classical Allusions Number 3001. Taipei: The Overseas Chinese Library, 1985.
Editorial Committee of The Overseas Chinese Library. Stories From Mencious Number 2003. Taipei: The Overseas Chinese Library, 1985.
Fang, Linda. The Ch’i-lin Purse, A Collection of Ancient Chinese Stories. New York: Farrar Straus Giroux, 1995.
The Frog Rider—Folk Tales from China (First Series). Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1980.
Hume, Lotta Carswell. Favorite Children’s Stories from China and Tibet. Rutland, Vt.: Tuttle Publishing, 1962.
Kendall, Carol and Yao-wen Li. Sweet and Sour, Tales from China. New York: Clarion Books, 1978.
Roberts, Moss, trans. Chinese Fairy Tales and Fantasies. New York: Pantheon Books, 1979.
Various. Folk Tales of the West Lake. N.p.: Olympia Press, 2007.
Wang, Gia-Zhen. Auntie Tigress and Other Favorite Chinese Folktales. New York: Purple Bear Books, 2006.