Starry River of the Sky

by Grace Lin

  “Yes,” he said. “I remember everything now. The secret to peace is forgiveness.”

  His words hung in the air like small, ripe apples dangling from a branch. All were silent, and Mr. Shan bowed his head and began to read again.

  Then Master Chao nodded at Widow Yan. Without a word, Widow Yan stepped forward, took MeiLan’s hand, and placed it in Jiming’s.

  CHAPTER

  38

  The next day, when the edges of the sky began to darken like a delicate cloth soaking in ink, Peiyi burst into Madame Chang’s room. Both Madame Chang and Rendi, who had been filling the lanterns with oil, looked at her in surprise.

  “Madame Chang!” Peiyi cried. “You have to fix it!”

  “What’s wrong?” Rendi asked, alarmed.

  “They think the moon should be taken to the city,” Peiyi said, “and the king should figure out how to return it to the sky! And Jiming is going to be the one to take it!”

  It took a moment for Rendi to untangle Peiyi’s words. The “they” Peiyi mentioned was most likely the crowd of villagers downstairs. The villagers had heard the story of Jiming and the moon as if it had been told by thunder, and, one by one, they had come to the inn to discuss, argue, and decide the fate of the moon. The dining room of the inn was now completely full.

  “The villagers think the moon should be brought to the king?” Rendi asked. “That is not a bad idea. Why is that a problem?”

  “It’s a problem because to take the moon to the king, someone has to roll it to the city!” Peiyi said. “And it’s going to be Jiming! He just got home! He shouldn’t leave again! Why is he leaving? Everyone leaves!”

  Peiyi began to sob and then threw herself into Madame Chang’s arms. Rendi stood awkwardly but looked at Madame Chang with worry.

  “Peiyi,” Madame Chang said, gently peeling away Peiyi’s arms so she could look in her eyes. “Sometimes people must leave.”

  “But why?” Peiyi wept.

  Madame Chang thought for a moment before she spoke. “For the night, there is the day. For the sun, there is the moon. For people to come, people must go,” she said. “It is part of the balance.”

  “Why do we need balance, then?” Peiyi said, her lower lip jutting out stubbornly.

  “Peiyi, it’s like the stories,” Rendi said, trying to be helpful. “When there were too many suns, people burned. When there was no sun, people were cold. It has to be even.” Then he had a sudden thought. If the sun was fire, then that meant the moon was water. Did the Village of Clear Sky, unlike everywhere else, still have water because the moon had been so near? And was there no rain because there was no moon in the sky?

  “Yes,” Madame Chang said, nodding. “We need balance to have harmony.”

  “But I don’t want it to be Jiming who leaves!” Peiyi wailed.

  “I know,” Madame Chang said, patting her head. “And this time, he won’t. Jiming will not have to leave.”

  “Really?” Peiyi sniffed.

  “Yes,” Madame Chang said. And then she added softly, but firmly, “And I will never leave. Every night of your life, I will be there for you.”

  She looked again into Peiyi’s eyes as if trying to fill her with light. Rendi watched as Peiyi’s tears disappeared and her hiccupping figure calmed into a peaceful stillness.

  Madame Chang sat Peiyi softly on the bed. “I will go talk to the villagers,” she said.

  “What will you say?” Peiyi asked.

  “The truth,” Madame Chang said. “Taking the moon to the king is the wrong thing to do.”

  CHAPTER

  39

  Madame Chang left the room with Rendi following close behind. Even before they were all the way down the stairs, they could hear the voices of Master Chao, Jiming, and the villagers.

  “The moon must be taken to the king immediately,” a villager said. “And if the king does not know what to do, then he can take it to the emperor. The moon must return to the sky without delay!”

  “Yes,” another villager said. “The king or the emperor must take action at once! The moon belongs to all the people, and they are responsible for the welfare of the people. The king and the emperor are responsible for the moon!”

  “They are not the only ones responsible,” Jiming said in a wry tone, which Rendi could understand. Until today, the villagers had been unconcerned about the missing moon, but now, as Madame Chang and Rendi stood in the room, they were all fervent and alarmed.

  “I will roll the moon to the king,” Jiming continued. “But it is a long journey to the City of Far Remote, especially on foot, and it is unknown when I’ll return. So before I leave, I insist that I am allowed to marry MeiLan and, in my absence, that she is treated as my honored wife.”

  More than anyone, Rendi could hear sorrow and the brave sadness of sacrifice in Jiming’s voice. Rendi remembered the yearning in Jiming’s eyes when he had been a toad. Jiming had wanted desperately to return home, but now he was leaving again.

  “We can have the wedding tomorrow,” Master Chao said, and all the heads in the room nodded in agreement. Except for Madame Chang’s.

  “Jiming should not move the moon,” Madame Chang said, and they all turned to look at her. “The king can do nothing. Only a mountain can hold up the moon.”

  “But then it is right for Jiming to take the moon,” Master Chao said in his self-important way. “Our ancestor moved a mountain. Jiming will move the moon.”

  “Your ancestor did not move the mountain!” Madame Chang said in a voice louder than Rendi had ever heard her use before. Madame Chang slowly looked at each villager, and one by one, each dropped his or her eyes and fell silent, overwhelmed by the force of her gaze. It was as if Madame Chang had removed a translucent veil. Her smooth, pale face seemed to illuminate the room, and Rendi again felt the awe-inspiring sensation of wishing to kneel at her feet.

  “Poor villagers of Clear Sky,” she said in a softer voice, “it has been so long, yet you still do not see. Your sky is not clear. Your sky is empty. Let me tell you the true story of your mountain.”

  THE TRUE STORY OF THE MOUNTAIN THAT MOVED

  This village was once the Village of Endless Mountain, renowned for its peace and wisdom. The Moon Lady above was responsible for the peace, but the wisdom was mostly because of the sage Spirit of the Mountain, who often took the form of a human bestowing advice on those who sought him. Endless Mountain was honored and revered by all.

  But time passed and people slowly began to forget about the Spirit of the Mountain and even about the Moon Lady. The villagers became thoughtless and began having small, foolish arguments. And when a new family moved to the village, none noticed the warnings of their approaching fate.

  The wife and sons were loyal and humble, but the father was domineering and thoughtless. On a whim, he decided he wanted tea made from Nan Ling water and forced his sons to carry him to the Long River and stupidly risked all their lives as they rowed him into the fierce waves. If he began to lose at a game of chess, he promptly quit playing. When two baby oxen were born, he was so impatient to get them to his stable that he tied them by the tails and dragged them home. The Moon Lady and the Spirit of the Mountain looked down at him with disapproving eyes.

  But one day, the man decided that the mountain, the great, never-ending mountain whose tip touched the moon, was a hindrance. “This mountain blocks my view!” he sputtered. “We must move it!”

  So he gathered shovels and pails and ordered his obedient sons to dig. All day, the sons and even the wife carried away rock and dirt one bucket at a time. As the sun sank behind the mountain, the workers cast silent, pleading eyes up at the sky. So saddened by their plight, the Moon Lady entreated the Spirit of the Mountain to interfere.

  The Spirit of the Mountain had barely noticed the buckets of rock that had been moved, feeling it the way one of us would feel the loss of a single hair. But the Moon Lady’s appeal had roused him, and he found himself surprised and curious. Villagers had taken to watching t
he odd labor, some to jeer and some to encourage. But none tried to stop it. Taking human shape, the Spirit of the Mountain went to visit the man.

  “Why are you trying to move the mountain?” the Spirit asked. “Why spend your every hour, every day of your life on something so meaningless?”

  “This mountain of annoyance will be moved!” the man swore. “If I do not move the mountain in my lifetime, my sons will continue my work and their sons afterward, until this mountain bothers no one again! It is this stupid, unnecessary mountain that is meaningless!”

  And with those words, the Mountain Spirit felt an anger build inside him, a cold, hard anger like a rock freezing in ice. The mountain was unnecessary? He was stupid and meaningless? For countless generations, the Spirit had guided and helped the villagers, and now they wished to cast him away like refuse from a chamber pot? The Spirit of the Mountain filled with bitterness and resentment. He could not stay. He would leave. The mountain would be an annoyance no longer.

  The Moon Lady was alarmed, for she knew, without the mountain to anchor it, the moon could fall from the sky. But the Mountain Spirit, too angry and hurt, did not hear her words. He refused to stay where he was unwanted.

  So the next morning, the Village of Endless Mountain was no longer. The never-ending mountain left, leaving behind only the flat bare stone. The land was empty, just like the sky.

  “ ‘A clear sky,’ your great-grandfather said,” Madame Chang told Jiming, who had listened with sudden understanding. “And this place was then called the Village of Clear Sky. But that is also when people began to leave this village, and now it is becoming empty, just like the Stone Pancake and the sky above.”

  “That’s just all the more reason to return the moon,” a villager said. “The king—”

  “The king cannot do anything!” Madame Chang said, as if declaring a proclamation. She looked out at the sunset. “But everything will return. Tomorrow, at this time. Do not forget.”

  And with those words, Madame Chang turned and left out the back of the inn, her hair floating around her pale face so that it looked like the moon itself in a midnight cloud.

  CHAPTER

  40

  Rendi ran out the door to follow her. Madame Chang was already walking across the Stone Pancake, her figure a silhouette against the bursting orange sky.

  “Madame!” he called, but when she turned and waited for him, his mouth was as dry as a summer road. As Rendi walked with her across the flat plain, he opened and closed his mouth several times until, finally, he asked, “What happened to the Spirit of the Mountain?”

  “The Spirit of the Mountain was so hurt and angry,” Madame Chang said softly, as if talking to herself in a dream, “that he left his home. He wanted to leave it all behind.”

  Rendi looked at Madame Chang, but her eyes were as unreadable as stones as she looked off into the crimson and molten gold of the sky.

  “But he carried that anger and unhappiness with him, and he could never really rest, never truly find peace,” Madame Chang said. “He wandered the world, letting himself be called by many different names and acting the role of another. All he wished was to forget. Until finally, he did.”

  Rendi followed her gaze to where the line of the land cut the sun so that it looked like a sliced orange. They continued walking, and her pace did not slow.

  “But in his quest to forget, he let himself forget everything,” Madame Chang said. “Instead of losing his unhappiness, he lost himself and the things he held dearest.”

  With each step they took, the fire of the sun burned away and the night began to unroll across the sky like a length of black fabric.

  “And we,” Madame Chang said, “lost the moon.”

  But the moon was found and now it was before them, its steady glow thinning the sky around it to a silver mist. Like a carved wooden statue, Mr. Shan sat cross-legged and was reading. His blue cloth bag, brought to him earlier by Madame Chang, lay limply beside him. As they approached, he looked up and met Madame Chang’s eyes.

  “When?” Mr. Shan asked.

  “Tomorrow,” she said, and Rendi looked at them both curiously, feeling as if he was at a meeting not meant for him.

  But the old man looked at him, his gaze piecing and powerful but not unkind.

  “Rendi,” Mr. Shan said, “it is time for all of us to return.”

  Rendi knew that was his sign to leave, but when Madame Chang handed him a lantern to light his way back to the inn, he could not help asking another question.

  “Madame Chang,” Rendi asked, “why did you want me to tell stories?”

  “Because I wanted to know you,” Madame Chang said, “and when people tell stories, they share things about themselves.”

  Rendi looked into her eyes, the light in them illuminating his own thoughts.

  “My stories were about me,” Rendi said slowly. “Were your stories about you?”

  Madame Chang smiled, put her hands on Rendi’s shoulders, and touched his forehead with hers. “Goodbye, Rendi,” she said softly. And then she released him into the night.

  CHAPTER

  41

  The next morning, Rendi awoke to a sad knocking on his door. When he opened it, a tear-stained, miserable Peiyi stood in front of him.

  “She lied,” Peiyi said, her lip trembling as a fresh tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Who lied?” Rendi asked.

  “Madame Chang!” Peiyi said, a sob threatening to take over. “She’s gone! She left! Even though she promised!”

  Rendi rushed to Madame Chang’s room. Peiyi was right. Madame Chang was gone. The room was empty except for the beams of the sun that draped themselves on the carved wooden table and bed. Peiyi joined Rendi at the door, and they both stood, staring.

  “I can’t believe it,” Rendi said, his voice as hollow as he felt inside. Even though the villagers had largely disregarded Madame Chang’s words after she had left the inn, he had believed her. But now she was gone.

  “Can’t believe what?” Jiming’s voice said behind them. They both turned and looked up at Jiming, dejected.

  “Madame Chang left,” Peiyi said, tears threatening again. Without Madame Chang, Jiming’s departure was now certain.

  “Hmm.” Jiming frowned as he glanced at the bare room. “Did she pay her bill?”

  “Yes!” Rendi said indignantly. “She even paid in advance!”

  “Well, then it’s nothing to get gloomy about,” Jiming said in a jolly tone. “Sometimes people have to leave.”

  “But…” Peiyi started.

  “Come on, baby sister!” Jiming said, swinging Peiyi up in the air. “No sad faces! Your brother is getting married today!”

  In spite of herself, Peiyi laughed. Jiming had to leave as well, but he had obviously decided to enjoy the day as much as possible. Peiyi landed on the floor, and Rendi watched as she set her face into a grim smile. He knew she was determined not to spoil Jiming’s day.

  The whole village was attending the wedding, and the day was full of hectic activity. Rendi was sent hurrying back and forth for water while Jiming and Master Chao butchered a pig for the evening’s wedding banquet. Peiyi was sent to help MeiLan, who was frantically sewing.

  “We’re breaking many traditions,” Widow Yan said, shaking her head as Master Chao, Jiming, and Rendi brought over tea and wine as betrothal gifts. “No matchmaker, no bridal cakes! We don’t even know if this is an auspicious day!”

  “It’s auspicious,” Jiming said. “Any day I get married is auspicious!”

  They all laughed, but underneath the laughter there was a stream of sadness. When Rendi brought some red thread for Peiyi and MeiLan’s sewing, he saw a silver tear sneak out of the corner of Peiyi’s eye. As the tear fell, it made an unnoticed stain on the crimson silk, like a drop of blood. Rendi frowned. Where was Madame Chang? Had she really left? It was impossible! Yet “Goodbye,” she had said. And he remembered the solemn finality of her farewell, like the tolling of a bell. But what about the
moon? And Mr. Shan?

  Rendi sidled next to Peiyi. “As soon as I can,” he said to her in a low voice, “I’m going to go out to Mr. Shan. He’ll know what happened to Madame Chang. Maybe she left a message with him.”

  Peiyi’s face filled with sudden hope, and she nodded. “Yes! He’ll know! Maybe she went to get something or…” Peiyi trailed off, unable to imagine why Madame Chang would leave. For a moment, Peiyi and Rendi stared at each other, both at a loss. Then Peiyi nodded again at Rendi and returned to her sewing.

  But Rendi could not leave. Master Chao and Jiming kept him in a rush without a moment of rest. When Rendi was sent to hire the sedan chair and musicians, he tried to protest.

  “MeiLan lives right next door!” Rendi said. “Why do you need a wedding procession to get her? It’ll be the shortest parade ever!”

  “We’ll make a couple of circles on the Stone Pancake,” Jiming said in a jolly tone. “The whole village is coming out. We’re going to make it a celebration at sunset!”

  Rendi tried again.

  “I should go out and check up on Mr. Shan, though,” he said. “He watched the moon all day yesterday, and no one has seen him at all today.”

  “He’ll be all right,” Master Chao said. “We gave him enough food and wine to last a week. It is too bad he will miss the wedding, but someone must watch the moon.”

  “And,” Jiming said, a grimness creeping into his grin, “he will not have to watch the moon for much longer, anyway.”

  Rendi’s tasks were finally finished when the sun hung above the horizon like a golden peach ready to fall. Villagers gathered before Master Chao’s inn and lit firecrackers, loud and deafening, as the rented bridal sedan arrived.

  Jiming, dressed in his finest, inspected the red embroidered silk canopy and the costumed carriers with mock discipline.

  “Only the best to pick up my bride!” he said.

  As Jiming and the villagers joked and laughed, Peiyi found her way to Rendi’s side.