by Grace Lin
“Story?” Peiyi asked as she brought the teapot to the table. “Like this morning’s story about the suns?”
“Yes,” Madame Chang said to her, but she was looking quietly again at Mr. Shan. “Have the old stories been forgotten already?”
Mr. Shan stared back again in his confused way and said senselessly, “I lost the book.”
Rendi swallowed an annoyed sigh. Mr. Shan was getting more witless every day.
“I want to hear it,” Peiyi said. Rendi was eager as well, for there had been few tales told in the dull Inn of Clear Sky, but he flushed when he saw Madame Chang looking directly at him.
“Would you like to hear it?” she asked.
Rendi tried to shrug indifferently. “I guess so,” he said.
THE STORY OF THE ROOSTER’S SONG
After WangYi shot down five of the six suns, the last sun fled from the sky. In fear, it hid inside a tall mountain.
Now, instead of boiling and burning, the people had another problem. The moon still floated in the sky, and its light made it possible for the villagers to see dimly, but it was not enough to warm the earth. The villagers huddled together as the plants and trees began to freeze.
“The sun must come out!” WangYi said.
Everyone agreed, but what could they do? They went to the mountain where the sun was hiding and threatened and pleaded and bribed to no avail. The sun refused to come out. But just as they began to despair, the wind murmured a message. “A friendly call will bring out the sun,” the Spirit of the Mountain whispered. “A friendly call.”
What did the Spirit of the Mountain mean? A friendly call? The villagers had tried sweet words and pleasant voices already, and the sun had not budged. It was WangYi’s wife who understood.
“The sun does not consider us friends. It will not answer our call,” she said. “We must find something that the sun thinks sounds friendly.”
First they brought out the cricket, which had a pleasant chirp. But its sound was faint, and the sun could not hear it through the stone of the mountain.
So then they brought out the tiger, whose loud, angry roars echoed across the land. But the sound enraged the sun, and it spit fire in annoyance.
They decided, then, to bring out the cow. Its relaxed lows were sure to be calming to the sun. And they were. The sun, inside the mountain, was lulled by the cow’s sound and almost went to sleep.
The villagers began to panic. “What sound will call out the sun?” they asked themselves. “What will sound friendly to it?”
“Let us try the rooster,” WangYi’s wife said.
“The rooster?” the others said, dubious. Most found the rooster’s voice to be grating and strident.
“It is loud enough to be heard through the stone,” she said. “And its voice is not full of anger or leisure. Let us try the rooster.”
So they brought out the rooster, which gave its loud, triumphant crow. The sun listened carefully. What a nice noise, it thought, and it peeked out of the mountain to see who was calling.
The sun’s first rays reached out and touched the rooster. In its light, the rooster turned a radiant golden color with a comb as bright and as red as a burning flame. When the villagers saw this, they realized the sun was coming out, and they cheered as if it was a grand celebration. The sun, now hearing so many friendly sounds, was pleased, and it came all the way out of the mountain.
That is how the sun returned to the sky.
“But the rooster, the one that turned gold—was it special, then?” Peiyi asked.
“Yes,” Madame Chang said, nodding. “It became the Celestial Rooster, and it is the sun’s friendly companion to this day.”
“And is this why the roosters crow in the morning?” Rendi couldn’t help asking. He was thinking about Widow Yan’s rooster, which woke him up every morning just as the night stopped its moaning and he was able to fall asleep. He disliked that rooster very much.
“Yes,” Madame Chang said, giving him a pleased smile. “The roosters are calling out the sun, just like the Celestial Rooster did a long time ago.”
“A long time ago,” Mr. Shan echoed unexpectedly. For a moment, Rendi saw a flicker in his eyes, a sharp brightness he had never seen before. But then it disappeared, and Mr. Shan slurped from his bowl, dribbles of soup falling into his beard.
CHAPTER
8
At night, the sky remained moonless, and the mournful sounds, as much as he tried to ignore them, kept Rendi awake in his bed. He gritted his teeth in frustration. How many nights had the sky wailed? How long had he been in this village? Would a new guest ever come?
But a new guest had come. For a moment, Rendi stopped his usual glowering and started to think about Madame Chang. She had brought no cart for him to hide in, but she had brought stories. And when she told them, Rendi had felt transported—away from the village and inn he despised and from unwanted memories. He remembered Madame Chang looking at him with that pleased, almost tender smile. It had been a smile that a mother would give her child, and it filled Rendi with a longing that made him turn and sigh in his bed almost as much as the groaning sky.
“Ooooooo-oooooohhh.” A muffled whine blended into the howls of the sky. But this moan had no eerie echo and came from right outside Rendi’s room. He rose from his bed and opened the door to see Peiyi huddled in the doorway of her room across the way with a lantern.
“It’s so dark,” Peiyi said. “The stars don’t really shine, and the moon is gone.”
Did she hear the wails? Was it not just in his head? Rendi began to ask but then looked at Peiyi’s small, upturned face. As her frightened eyes met his, he saw the start of tears forming. A wavering softness seemed to curl inside Rendi, like smoke from incense. Peiyi reminded him so much of… the memory stung him with a slapping pain. Rendi scowled.
“You probably just scared it away with your drippy pig nose,” he said.
Fear disappeared from Peiyi’s face as anger replaced it. “Horrible! You don’t care about anything!” she said, her white cheeks turning red with rage. “Everyone else leaves. Why won’t you?”
“Peiyi, why aren’t you sleeping?” Master Chao’s voice called from the stairs. As he came into view, Rendi felt himself flush. “And you too, Rendi?”
“We were just…” Rendi began, but Master Chao cut him short.
“Go to bed,” Master Chao said. “Both of you.”
They nodded, and Rendi silently retreated to his room. However, inside he was seething and wanted to scream with the sky. “Everyone else leaves. Why won’t you?” Peiyi had said. He would leave if he could! If only a guest with a carriage or cart would come. It wouldn’t matter where it was headed. Any place would be better than here! Any place but here, Rendi thought, or home.
But it was here he was stuck. The next morning brought the rooster’s crow, the hot sun, and a new chore, but no new guests. Rendi sagged at the table at breakfast.
“That old well in the back dried up for good last week,” Master Chao said. “And now it’s falling apart. I don’t want a guest taking a night stroll to fall into it. Rendi, you’d better fill it up this morning.”
“Fill it?” Rendi asked.
“I guess it’s the first well in the village to go dry,” Master Chao said. “If something doesn’t change, there’ll be more. Pretty soon, all the villagers will have to get their water from the Half-Moon Well like we do. Peiyi will show you where the shovel is.”
Moments later, with the shovel on his shoulder, Rendi followed Peiyi as she crossed the yard with skipping leaps. The sun seemed to be rising up into the sky by jumps and leaps as well because the top of Rendi’s head felt as if it were smoldering. Full of resentment, he thought of shaded pavilions and cool, iced plum juice brought by bowing servants.
What am I doing here? Rendi glared in disgust as he slowly began to dig the crumbly earth. The ground was surprisingly soft and light and without any heavy rocks or stones. More like dust than dirt, Rendi thought. He looked acro
ss to the barren plain of stone left by the missing mountain. “I guess all the stone is there.”
As Rendi dropped a shovelful of dirt into the well, it seemed to scatter down like drops of water being shaken from a tree after the rain. But as the earth fell, a strange, deep sound began to echo. “EERRR-rripp! EERRR-rripp!” groaned the well.
“Rendi!” Peiyi said as she threw herself on the ground and peered into the deep hole. “There’s something in there!”
CHAPTER
9
Rendi kneeled and looked into the hole. Peiyi was right. There was something there. In the blackness at the bottom, two beady eyes looked at him.
“EERRR-rripp!” it croaked up. Rendi almost laughed. It was a toad.
It was an old, ugly, warty toad, sitting on a rock in a dark puddle of water. The toad moaned again, reminding Rendi of the mournful sounds that kept him up at night. Was it this toad that had been making the wails in the sky? Impossible. Those sounds bellowed in his ears like loud thunder. This toad’s croak was at most a faded echo.
“It’s just a dumb old toad,” Rendi said, and threw in another heap of dirt. The toad groaned again.
“Stop!” Peiyi said, jumping up. “You’ll kill it!”
“I’m not killing it,” Rendi said, irritated. “I’m filling the well. I’m doing what your father told me to do.”
Rendi tossed in another pile of dirt, and “EERRR-rripp! EERRR-rripp!” the toad wailed, over and over again, as if now realizing what was happening. The cries were like the sounds of a funeral horn.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Peiyi screamed, grabbing his arm. “You’ll bury it alive!”
“Who cares?” Rendi sneered, and pushed away Peiyi’s hands. The sun was scorching his head and arms, and he was burning inside as well. He didn’t care about anything in this hot, dried-up village. If he could, he would bury all of it! Everything! Anything to make his past, the crying night, and the Village of Clear Sky disappear.
“What is wrong?” Madame Chang said, her gentle voice blowing over him. As he and Peiyi turned around, Rendi again felt as if they should kowtow on the ground before her. She stood there gracefully, her dark eyes gazing down upon them, and Rendi felt ashamed.
“Rendi has to fill the old well, but there’s a toad down there,” Peiyi said in a pleading tone. “If he fills it, he’ll kill the toad.”
“I see,” Madame Chang said. Careless of the fabric of her silver-gray robe, she kneeled beside the old well, looked in, and smiled. “Too hot for fur?” she said to the toad. Peiyi gave Rendi a confused look, and he shrugged.
The toad continued its melancholy song, and Rendi wondered what Madame Chang would do. The well was too deep for her to reach the toad, even with a stick. Would she ask him to get a rope and climb down? He cringed. The decrepit old well was cracking and breaking—it was likely that part of the well would collapse with him in it.
Suddenly, the toad was silent. Madame Chang stood up. “You can continue your work, Rendi,” she said.
“But if he fills the well, the toad…” Peiyi sputtered, torn between her manners for a guest and her feelings.
“Don’t worry,” Madame Chang said, gently putting her hand on Peiyi’s shoulder and leading her away. “The toad will be fine.”
Peiyi looked doubtful, but as she continued to look at Madame Chang, her expression slowly cleared and transformed into one of puppylike adoration. If Peiyi had admired pretty MeiLan as a lady, she was now worshipping Madame Chang like a queen. Rendi stared at their backs as they both walked away.
In silence, he shoveled earth into the well. Madame Chang’s appearance had been like a soft wind cooling his anger, and now Rendi began to feel troubled. Each drop of earth weighed upon his conscience. Was he killing the old toad? Why was the well quiet? Had the toad found another way out? Or was it dead already? Finally, Rendi looked over the edge.
His mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe what he saw. The toad was sitting cheerfully on a pile of dirt—the same dirt that Rendi was flinging into the well. Rendi tossed in another mound and then watched as the toad shook it off and vigorously jumped, patting the earth down into a surface. The toad was making a hill from the dirt that was filling the well. With each shovelful Rendi threw in, the toad rose higher.
So Rendi continued to dig. His hands were chafed raw, and he had been obliged to dig farther and farther away from the well in order to not create another hole. The sun made his head feel as if it were a burning blister, and sweat dripped from his brow like a melting icicle.
Finally, the toad was getting closer to the top of the well. Now Rendi could see it sitting attentively on the dirt pile, its brownish green warts making it look like a piece of rotten wood covered with mushrooms. The toad’s black eyes were flashing in eagerness.
Just when it was high enough for the toad to see out of the well, it gathered itself like an expectant warrior. With one last shake, the ugly, ancient toad gave a bellowing croak, a war cry, and with a powerful leap, jumped onto solid ground next to Rendi’s feet.
“EERRR-rripp!” the toad burped.
CHAPTER
10
The toad looked up at Rendi triumphantly, as if expecting applause. Rendi could only stare. The toad gave another burp, this one sounding a bit offended. It turned away from Rendi and began to gaze at the stone field. It sat listening to the light breeze, its neck strained forward as if a voice was calling to it. Rendi looked at the toad again. It seemed ordinary enough, mold-colored, fat, and lumpy. If anything, it was uglier than most toads. But Rendi had never seen a toad act like this.
Then, with a clumsy Plop! the toad jumped. Hop! Plop! It began to make its way toward the Stone Pancake—it was easy to see that the toad meant to cross it. Rendi quickly moved.
“Don’t go there, you dumb toad!” Rendi said, placing the shovel in front of its path. “It’s miles of hot stone. You’ll just get lost and cooked.”
The toad made another insulted-sounding croak but looked again at Rendi as if reconsidering. Rendi felt curious and impressed at the same time. Then, as if a decision had been made, the toad turned around and hopped to the back door of the inn.
“EERRR-rripp!” the toad said loudly.
“Did you want to go in?” Rendi asked.
“EERRR-rripp! EERRR-rripp!” the toad said impatiently.
“It’s lunchtime, anyway.” Rendi shrugged and opened the door.
The toad began to hop into the inn. Rendi couldn’t help following, matching his steps to the toad’s jumps. Where was it going? He felt as if he were tied to the toad with an invisible thread.
The toad turned toward a room Rendi had never entered before. “I don’t think you should go in there, Toad,” Rendi said. But the toad was not listening. He disappeared into the room, and Rendi, after hesitating a moment, followed.
It was a small, dark room, and the light from the doorway poured into it like spilled water. The harsh daylight was softened, diffused by the dusty ashes of incense floating in the air. It skimmed gently over the short, narrow table lined with incense holders and the row of gray slabs of stone that leaned against the wall. The stone tablets were carved with names of dead ancestors and blackened by smoke. This was the Chao family’s shrine room.
The toad plopped before a tablet and gave a sad, mournful croak—again reminding Rendi of the sad cries he heard from the night sky. Rendi stepped closer and caught his breath as he read the name of Peiyi’s mother. He hadn’t really thought about Peiyi’s mother until that moment, he realized, and a sudden guilt filled him. “Everyone leaves,” Peiyi had said, and she had meant her mother as well. However, Peiyi’s mother had not only left but was also never coming back. All that Peiyi saw of her mother now was a carved name on a cold, dark stone.
“EERRR-rripp!” the toad said. Rendi saw that the toad was leaving the room. He followed.
The toad turned into the hallway, leaping confidently. Rendi felt his amusement returning. Hop! Plop! Hop! Plop! Each jump gave a resolu
te thud, and the toad continued forward with a determined air. As they got closer to the dining room, Rendi could hear people talking.
“… He’s always angry. He doesn’t care about anyone except himself. He hasn’t ever smiled or laughed or been nice since he’s been here!” Peiyi was saying.
“Never smiled?” Madame Chang said thoughtfully. “He’s too young to be that troubled.”
Rendi realized they were talking about him and tried to retreat, but it was too late. “EERRR-rripp! EERRR-rripp!” the toad called loudly, announcing their presence. Everyone turned toward them, and Rendi froze in the entryway.
But no one was looking at Rendi. All eyes were on the toad. Despite Master Chao’s look of horror, it was gleefully leaping across the floor, making croaking sounds like guffaws of laughter. With a last great joyful spring, the toad bounded into the air and onto Mr. Shan’s ragged, unkempt lap.
CHAPTER
11
Rendi looked down at his rice. He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that he was sitting at a dining table reserved for guests or that Madame Chang was smiling. Because instead of being disgusted that a fat toad had landed next to her, Madame Chang had beamed as if greeting an old friend. Her welcome had included Rendi, who she had insisted sit with her, Mr. Shan, Peiyi, and the toad for lunch. Master Chao had shrugged permission, Madame Chang’s choice of a chore boy as a dining companion as perplexing to him as her choice of the toad.
However, the toad’s company seemed to be more appreciated than Rendi’s. Peiyi clapped her hands, and Mr. Shan had brightened and smiled at it. Looking more awake and alive than Rendi had ever seen him before, Mr. Shan had petted the toad and then reached into his pocket and took out two copper coins tied together with a red string. He rattled it in front of the toad, like a toy in front of a baby. Instead of groaning painful sounds like the ones Rendi heard at night, the toad was now gurgling and giggling.