by Grace Lin
“Did you see Mr. Shan?” she hissed at him.
Rendi shook his head. “Not yet,” he whispered. He looked at the crowd all around him. “I’ll go now.”
Peiyi, too, looked at the crowd and nodded at him. She began to cheer loud enough for two, and he scurried away, both of them hoping their questions could be answered by the old man by the moon.
CHAPTER
42
It was late in the day, and the air had cooled slightly. As Rendi walked quickly across the stone plain, a tender breeze stroked the earth, and the sun seemed to have softened its glare. There was still no rain, however, and the snail shells Rendi had dropped were brittle and dry.
And the questions in his head seemed to repeat with every step he took. Where was Madame Chang? Why did she leave? Was Peiyi right? Had Madame Chang lied to them?
A purple curtain began to drape over the sky, and Rendi’s thoughts stopped him in midstride. He didn’t believe Madame Chang had lied. She would not lie. She could not. All that he knew of her told him that her words were always pure and true. For her to lie was impossible. As impossible, Rendi thought grimly, as the moon falling from the sky.
He continued walking, and instead of thinking of Madame Chang, he began to think of Mr. Shan. Last night, Mr. Shan had looked at him with clear eyes full of endless wisdom, and Rendi began to feel hopeful confidence bubble inside him, like a flowing spring. Mr. Shan knew how to end the argument of the snails and how to save him from Fang and Liu. He seemed to know the answers to everything. Mr. Shan would know the answers now too.
However, as the tall tree came into sight, Rendi did not see what he had expected. There was no Mr. Shan sitting cross-legged reading his book with the toad croaking in his pocket, and there was no round, pearl-like moon glowing behind him. Where was Mr. Shan? Where was the moon? Rendi’s pace quickened to a run.
“Mr. Shan!” Rendi called. “Where’s the moon? Mr. Shan?”
Rendi was asking his questions to the sky, for only the soft breeze answered him. He darted to the tree, trying to will his eyes to lie to him.
But the place where Mr. Shan and the moon had sat was completely bare, except for two copper coins.
CHAPTER
43
Rendi held the two copper coins in his hand. How many times had he seen Mr. Shan jingle these same coins in front of the toad? Rendi collapsed against the tree, tears wetting his eyes. Mr. Shan and Madame Chang were truly gone.
But what about the moon? And the toad? He heard a faint croaking by the lake. Rendi slowly walked toward the bridge.
Had Mr. Shan and Madame Chang left together? Had they taken the moon with them? Maybe this was how Madame Chang planned to keep Jiming from leaving, by taking the moon instead. Mr. Shan was surprisingly strong, Rendi knew—perhaps he was rolling it now. Another croak came from the lake, in the shadows of the bridge.
Rendi peered under the bridge, kneeling on the damp bank.
“Toad! Toad!” Rendi called, and then grinned, remembering Mr. Shan’s pet name for it. “Rabbit!”
As Rendi moved closer, a strange thought came to him. In Madame Chang’s story, the old sage transformed a tadpole into a baby rabbit. Had that tadpole been a baby toad? Could that rabbit turn back into a toad? Was that why Mr. Shan gave his toad such an odd name? Rendi wrinkled his brow and called again, “Rabbit! Are you there, Rabbit?”
The rippling water cast a flashing light into the shadows, and Rendi saw a small green frog. It wasn’t Mr. Shan’s toad. But there was something. Above the green frog, there was a strange outline in the stone.
The lake glimmered in the setting sun, and the flickering, reflecting light was barely enough for Rendi to see under the bridge. The frog hopped away, but Rendi leaned out farther, squinting. Was it? Yes, on the underside of the stone bridge there were two deep indentations. They were in the shape of hands. Rendi lifted his own hands in imitation. Those handprints pressed in the stone looked as if they had been made by someone holding up the bridge. Mr. Shan’s handprints!
And just as Rendi realized this—splash!—he slipped and fell into the lake.
The soft, silver waves caught him gently and embraced him with warm arms. His clothes spread from him like an expanding flower, and as the water swirled, a confusing mix of memories flooded through him.
Only a mountain can hold up the moon, Madame Chang had said, looking out into the orange sky. At this time. Do not forget.
A celebration at sunset, Jiming had said, laughing, A parade on the Stone Pancake!
It is time for all of us to return, Mr. Shan had said, the great, glowing moon behind him. You should go.
Then, a powerful current, like an invisible hand, curled underneath Rendi and pushed him upward until he burst through the surface of the lake, gasping. He dragged himself to the shore, his mind racing and repeating, It is time. You should go. It is time. He looked again at Mr. Shan’s handprints on the bottom of the bridge.
“Only a mountain can hold up the moon,” Rendi whispered. He looked at the violet sky, and the sun beginning to slip behind the horizon. Ignoring the heaviness of his dripping clothes, Rendi began to run.
CHAPTER
44
Rendi raced across the Stone Pancake, droplets of water flying from him like silver seeds. He ran as if he were one of WangYi’s shot arrows, and his feet scarcely touched the ground. His thoughts matched his quick steps. Could the mountain be…? If they returned at sunset…? Would the wedding parade on the Stone Pancake…? If so, how could he…? Even though Rendi could not even ask himself the full questions, he began to form a plan in his mind.
The sky above had turned a dusky purple, and the last slice of the sun radiated its rainbow of gold. In the distance, Rendi saw a parade of people and heard the dim noise of celebration. The bridal sedan with its red silk canopy brighter than a rooster’s crown was like a flaming peony on the stone. Rendi dashed toward it.
The raucous music and laughter paused in surprise as the people saw the strange, half-drowned figure of a boy running toward them. The sedan carriers stopped their march in shock as Rendi, barely recognizable with his wet and disheveled appearance, barreled toward the bridal sedan and split through the curtains of the canopy.
“Rendi?” MeiLan gasped, raising her hand in disbelief. She looked very beautiful, shimmering in her red silk dress, which was even more brilliant than the sedan chair, and her golden hairpins glittered in the dying sunlight. But it was the exquisite green jade bracelet that Rendi grabbed. With a quick motion, he slipped it off her delicate wrist and popped out of the sedan.
“My bracelet!” Rendi heard MeiLan cry out. He took a quick glance behind him and saw she had done as he hoped. I will not get married without it, MeiLan had said about her bracelet, and she had meant it. Because without hesitation, she had jumped out of the bridal chair and ran after him. The wedding parade, completely astonished, all began to chase the bride.
Rendi ran faster and faster, faster than if he were a thief trying to escape, faster than if there were a Noxious Toad behind him. MeiLan shouted, and he could make out the yells of Master Chao, Jiming, and Peiyi from the din that followed her. But he continued to run. He ran as far from the Stone Pancake as he could, over the mounds of dirt that covered the dried-up well and Fang’s forgotten belongings, through the garden of snails, past the line of firefly lanterns, and down the street away from the inn.
But on the dry, dusty road, his legs began to falter, and MeiLan’s voice grew louder in his ears. The sky dimmed darker and darker, the blackness of night pouring toward the earth as if from an overturned bowl. Rendi tried to keep running, but MeiLan’s fingertips clutched his flapping, damp shirt and…
BOOM!
A deafening, piercing crash like thunder echoed across the village. Louder than the wedding firecrackers or Magistrate Tiger’s roars, louder than even Jiming’s burp as a toad, the noise seemed to split the sky. Houses rocked, trees swayed, and all the villagers—Rendi and MeiLan included—f
ell to the ground. The ground trembled. Lanterns, fireflies, and stars disappeared, and for one moment, all was black and silent.
Then, “Look!” Peiyi said, her soft voice as loud as a yell in the stillness.
She pointed toward the sky, but her words and motions were unneeded. Everyone was looking. They were staring and gaping, wide-eyed and speechless.
Behind the Inn of Clear Sky, a mountain had grown. A never-ending mountain whose tip stretched high, so high into the sky that it touched the moon. For the moon had returned. It was above, a glowing pearl bathing all of them with light.
“The moon!” someone whispered. “The mountain!” and the voice broke into a smothered sob of joy. All of them stood breathless, drinking in the sight they hadn’t realized they had been so thirsty for. The pure light of the moon cascaded upon them, reshaping and filling them until Rendi felt transformed and bursting. He glanced at the row of villagers, at MeiLan, Jiming, Master Chao, Peiyi, and Widow Yan. Their eyes were large and luminous, and a wetness spilled onto his cheeks.
But was he crying? Because at that moment, the sky brightened with tiny, twinkling lights as if hundreds of lanterns and firecrackers were lit in celebration, and sparkling drops of water sprinkled from the sky.
It was raining. It was a gentle, soft rain that kissed the earth. The dry grass, leaves, and people eagerly stretched upward, reaching to catch the happy, laughing tears from the mountain and the moon.
CHAPTER
45
It was crisp and cool the next evening as Rendi walked down the road. Billowing violet clouds were edged with pink and gold as the sun made its farewell. Small blades of grass, already green, had sprouted through the stones and made a soft carpet for his feet. His bag, slung over his shoulder, was not light but easily carried. He smiled at himself proudly, remembering his weak, feeble arms when he had first arrived at the inn. Now he felt strong and able to carry almost any burden.
“Rendi! Rendi!” A small figure ran after him. He turned and gave a crooked smile. Peiyi was going to say goodbye after all. When he had made his farewells to the others, she had closed herself in her room and refused to come out and he had had to say goodbye to her through her door. But perhaps that was better, because now she was glaring at him.
“You’re really leaving!” Peiyi said accusingly. “After everything! After saving all of us when the mountain came back, after seeing the moon and the rain come again! Now you’re leaving! Everyone leaves!”
Rendi’s bag suddenly felt heavier. Peiyi reminded him so much of his sister, and his chest filled with both remorse and longing.
“It’s time for me to go,” he said, and then he remembered Madame Chang’s words. “Sometimes people must leave.”
“But why you?” Peiyi said, crossing her arms.
“Before, I didn’t leave right. I was angry. I have my own family… I have to go home…” Rendi started, but he confused himself with his own explanation. Finally he said, “Right now, I’m not leaving. I’m returning.”
Peiyi sniffed, her lower lip sticking out, but the hard line of her shoulders softened.
“You know that Madame Chang didn’t lie to you,” Rendi said, “don’t you?”
They both looked up at the deepening blue sky, the pale moon already above and watching. Across the Starry River, a reddish-orange light, the color of a rooster’s comb, streaked from the departing sun straight toward the moon.
“I know,” Peiyi said, her eyes staying on the moon. Rendi swallowed, but the sad weight upon him lessened. He took his bag from his shoulder and opened it.
“Here,” Rendi said. “This is for you.”
He handed Peiyi his rice bowl. The gold had been all but rubbed away, but the fine blue-and-white porcelain gleamed in the moonlight, and the creamy whiteness was as smooth as the inside of a shell. In Peiyi’s hands, the painted rabbit seemed to tremble.
“Rendi,” Peiyi whispered, her voice tremulous, “is this the emperor’s… Magistrate Tiger’s…? I can’t take this!”
“It’s a gift,” Rendi said, grinning. All of a sudden, he felt as light as a butterfly. He reached into his bag and pulled out Mr. Shan’s two copper coins and dropped them into the bowl, laughing. “If you can’t take it, give it to Jiming and MeiLan! They can give it to their first child, and their child can pass it on to their children, and the bowl will go on forever and ever!”
“A wedding gift?” Peiyi said, still awed and unsure. Her fingers ran around the thin, delicate edge of the bowl, making a round circle.
“No,” Rendi said, suddenly serious. He looked into Peiyi’s eyes as Madame Chang had looked into his that last night. “It’s a thank-you gift.”
Peiyi gazed back, suddenly full of wisdom beyond her years. She gave a small nod and then, unexpectedly, threw her arms around Rendi in a rough hug, her face buried in his chest.
Then, without another word, she pushed herself away, turned, and ran. Rendi watched as she ran down the moon path back to the inn, the Inn of Never-Ending Mountain, stopping only once to wave goodbye.
He watched her small figure disappear and brought the bag back to his shoulder to continue onward. But before he took another step, he looked at the tall mountain that touched the moon, its peak soaring into the sky as if holding it up. Misty clouds draped softly, but up where the mountain met the moon, Rendi thought he could still see what he expected to be there.
There was old Mr. Shan, the Spirit of the Mountain, who sat at the mountain’s tip with the book in his lap. The three-legged toad hopped next to him. At least, it was the three-legged toad part of the time, because it kept transforming into a jade-white rabbit. As it jumped up and down, it calmly changed back and forth. Toad. Rabbit. Toad.
Above them, thousands of stars circled the moon, like twinkling fish leaping and dancing to a song of harmony that only they could hear. Madame Chang, the Moon Lady, having finished granting their secret wishes, now waited as the Celestial Rooster streaked across the sky carrying her husband, WangYi, to her. The moonlit clouds floated as if on gentle waves of water.
In the shimmering, silver light, Rendi smiled up at all of them. They were all at home, all at peace, and finally all returned to the Starry River of the Sky.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
As I mentioned in my author’s note in Where the Mountain Meets the Moon (this book’s companion), I spent most of my childhood resisting my parents’ efforts to teach me about our heritage. It was only when I grew older that I began to value what I had learned and mourned what I had not. So, as an adult, I tried to rediscover my roots by visiting Taiwan, China, and Hong Kong. During those travels, I found myself creating stories inspired by Chinese myths I had read in my childhood.
These new stories permeated my soul and consumed my thoughts. All stories authors write, regardless of the inspirations, characters, or settings, are personal. At least they are for me. And my journey to write this book was much like Rendi’s—starting with confusion and doubt and ending with wonder, strength, and self-discovery.
When I began writing, I worried that, as an Americanized Asian, some might think I had no right to reinterpret these Chinese folktales with my own modern sensibilities (disregarding historical details such as foot-binding, for example). Many might be offended that the myths were changed or altered at all. My worries made me hesitant to continue.
But then I remembered my travels. During my trips to Asia, I visited many temples, all of them still used for worship. I was struck by the paper offerings being burned there. Instead of just the traditional paper ghost money, paper replicas of computers, cell phones, and even electric toothbrushes were now being set ablaze. I realized that people had allowed their customs to change. The tradition had grown to fit the modern world.
I thought this was fascinating and wonderful—how myths and beliefs are and can be transformed over time. Somehow, to me, it made these beliefs more real, more “living.” And suddenly, I saw that the Asian culture was just like the characteristics that are attri
buted to bamboo—strong and flexible. My small adaptations would be at worst harmless and at best a new fresh sprout—and neither could injure the original stalk.
So, with those thoughts, I found peace to continue writing my stories and this book. Obviously, my intent has never been to replace the traditional retellings of Chinese folklore—in fact, I hope my book makes those unfamiliar with the tales curious to read them. For those who already know the mythology, I hope that prior knowledge only makes my version more enjoyable. However, for all readers, my not-so-secret wish is that this book gives you the same wonder, faith, and peace that writing it gave me.
Some of the books that inspired STARRY RIVER OF THE SKY
Asiapac Editorial. Origins of Chinese Music. Singapore: Asiapac Books, 2007.
Asiapac Editorial. Origins of Chinese Tea and Wine. Singapore: Asiapac Books, 2004.
Carpenter, Frances. Tales of a Chinese Grandmother. Rutland, VT: Tuttle Publishing, 1973.
Conover, Sarah and Chen Hui. Harmony: A Treasury of Chinese Wisdom for Children and Parents. Spokane and Cheney, WA: Eastern Washington University Press, 2008.
Fang, Linda. The Ch’i-lin Purse: A Collection of Ancient Chinese Stories. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1995.
The Frog Rider—Folk Tales from China (First Series). Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1980.
Han, Carolyn. Tales from Within the Clouds: Nakhi Stories of China. Translated by Jaiho Cheng. Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1997.
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.
Lin, Adet. The Milky Way and Other Chinese Folk Tales. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1961.
Lobb, Fred H. The Wonderful Treasure Horse: Mongolian, Manchu and Turkic Folktales from China. Xlibris Corp., 2000.