I look once more and see something else—bruised circles under my eyes. The moment I get home, I’m taking another nap. Preferably a dreamless one this time.
THREE
三
JADE
When I open my eyes, I feel instant confusion. I’m staring at an elaborately painted ceiling in a room I’ve never seen. The ceiling depicts a historical event. Three ships on an indigo sea, curling waves with frothy crests lapping at their sides. In the distance, a chartreuse island climbs out of choppy water. Its snowcapped peak punctures a robin’s-egg blue sky.
Where have I seen this before?
In a textbook.
World History.
Textbook? I shake my head. What’s a ‘textbook?’ Something from my dream.
Maybe I’m still dreaming. Maybe this room isn’t real.
“Ah! Our sleeping bear cub finally awakes.”
Lily—the genuine Lily—sits in a low chair in front of a crimson wall. Her pale hands are nervously folded in her lap, and they twitch when I move my head toward her.
“As I told you, Student Lily,” the friendly voice says, “a case of nerves. Our Jade Blossom will be fine.”
Jade Blossom. That’s what my mother used to call me—her “little Jade Blossom.” Who’s calling me that now? I blink fog from my eyes, look at Lily again, and her blue eyes flicker toward the voice. I follow her gaze to a tall, thin man standing at the foot of the bed. He has a drooping moustache with pointed ends that reach all the way to his waist, and he’s dressed in a government official’s red robes. A high-ranking educator’s gold-trimmed black cap perches atop his shaven head. High Master Ning. I’ve only seen him twice before and both times it was from a distance. An aura of deep mystery hangs over him.
“How do you feel?”
“I…I’m f-fine.”
First I pass out and now I stutter. I’m a disgrace to the Hua family name.
The High Master walks to the bed and offers me his hand. His fingers are long and bird-like, but he has a surprisingly strong grasp.
“Would you like some tea?” He helps me to a sitting position. “Perhaps some sesame cakes to settle your stomach?”
I shake my head. For a few moments, he smilingly observes me then turns to address Lily again.
“Student Lily, I thank you for your assistance. Would you mind waiting downstairs a few minutes while Student Jade and I discuss something in private?”
Lily stares at him, eyes blank, then his words register and she lurches to her feet. She bows, the High Master escorts her to the door, and I take advantage of the distraction to stand and absorb my surroundings.
We must be on the pagoda’s uppermost floor because through the open window I see treetops. The room’s walls are red, trimmed with gold, and it bears all the markings of a scholar’s quarters. One wall is taken up by cubicle shelves, each cube the home of a yellowing scroll. Near the shelves stands an ornate lectern. Its legs are carved to represent curling bearded dragons. A heavy scroll rests, half unrolled, across its top.
The next wall is devoted entirely to science. I admire a beautifully painted astrological chart with vivid renderings of the Four Symbols. A different symbol dominates each compass point: the Azure Dragon of the East, the Black Tortoise of the North, the White Tiger of the West, and the Vermillion Bird of the South. There’s also a table of the five elemental groups—wood, fire, earth, metal, water. It’s no coincidence these same elements provide the Amplitude’s names on the colored diagram of the human brain. I’m so engrossed in my examination I don’t see the master returning until he’s standing right behind me.
“You’re wondering why I’ve called you here.”
I jump, and he chuckles and pats my head. It’s been a very long time since someone patted the top of my head. It feels like a grandfatherly gesture, and I’m not sure I like it.
“Allow me to put your mind at ease,” Master Ning says. “You aren’t here for any wrongdoings. Rather, I wish to meet with you because of certain exceptional talents you possess.”
Exceptional talents? There’s nothing exceptional about me. He must have me confused with another student.
“It has been written,” he says, “that a woman who stands too close to a mirror can be blinded to her beauty and see only flaws. Sometimes one must take a few steps away from the mirror to see things more clearly. Recite for me, if you would, the Five Amplitudes of Higher Thought.”
A test! I sensed one coming. My pulse quickens, I start to perspire, and, for a moment, my brain stops functioning.
Meditative breathing. Master Ai, the history teacher, begins every lesson with a few minutes of it. I take a deep breath, hold it a second, and finally produce words.
“First Amplitude,” I say. “Wood. The second is Fire. The third is Earth. Number four is Metal, and the last amplitude, the Fifth, is Water.”
“Very good. And which is most powerful?”
Is this a trick question? I search his face, but he stares serenely back.
“Huo. Fire.”
“And why is this?”
“Because fire is masculine, and the masculine amplitude is more pure and powerful.”
It always leaves a sour taste on my tongue to say that, but it’s the answer my teachers want.
“You remember Master Yao’s lessons well.”
If so, why is the High Master frowning?
“And the weakest Amplitude?” he asks.
“Shui. Water.”
These are the correct answers, but if his deepening frown is any indication of how I’m doing, I must be failing his test.
“Shui,” he repeats. “The feminine Amplitude. Or so you’ve been taught. Tell me everything you know about the final amplitude.”
I take a deep breath, determined not to disappoint him this time. It’s a simple matter of reciting rudimentary information, and yet the Master’s wise gray eyes make me uncertain about everything I think I know.
“Shui waves,” I begin, “are the product of our deepest moments of sleep. They’re building blocks for nightmares and dreams. They weaken the other Amplitudes and dull the senses. They’re also known to contribute to poor health and a shortened life span. Because of this, the most essential part of Focused Thought Training is to learn to repress these waves.”
I obliquely watch his face, searching for any sign of approval or disapproval, but he stares past me, not noticing my terrible breach of etiquette.
“Is there anything else?”
My heart deflates. I forgot the most important fact.
“It’s the only higher level of Focused Thought Training,” I reply, “that females are allowed to receive.”
“Very good. Master Yao has flawlessly taught you according to Imperial agenda. The Eternal Emperor, I’m sure, would be pleased with your education.”
I nod, secretly hoping he’s finished quizzing me.
“Unfortunately,” he says, still watching, “everything you’ve been taught about the Fifth Amplitude is a complete and utter lie.”
I again forget to avoid eye contact, and this time the High Master stares back.
“You will return tomorrow at this same hour,” he says, “so we can correct that unforgiveable gap in your education. Thank you, Student Jade. I think that will be all.”
FOUR
四
JENNA
My cell phone wakes me with a rendition of Fireflies by Owl City. It’s Lily’s ringtone, and it’s rescued me from a confusing continuation of my earlier dream. I feel around under an open textbook’s curled pages until my fingers locate the source of the noise.
“Hello?”
My voice is thick with gravelly traces of sleep.
“Snoozing again?” Lily asks. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”
“No,” I answer through a gaping yawn. “At least I don’t think I am. It’s been a long week. It feels like it should be Friday already.”
“Only Wednesday. Two days to go.”
I check my alarm clock’s glowing face. Already four o’clock! I’ve been asleep for over an hour. I don’t remember all the details from my latest dream, but it was real enough to exhaust me, and its sensations linger like clinging shadows.
A scent of mint tea. The silver whispers of window chimes. I still remember the mural and posters from Master Ning’s room. It’s as if I wasn’t dreaming—as if I were actually there in the flesh. I quickly shake my head to drive that crazy thought away.
“My dad said he’s driving us to the mall in the ‘Yellow Beast,’” Lily says, her voice yanking me back to the real world. “Is your mom home yet? Maybe she’ll have mercy on us and take us in her car.”
“Sorry,” I reply. “She’s working late. Some research article she has to have ready by tomorrow morning.”
“All right.” Lily gives me an exaggerated sigh. “I guess that means we’re going in the ‘Beast.’ I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Wear hiking boots, because I’m not letting my dad drop us off anywhere where someone might see us in that horrible car.”
“I’ll be ready,” I say, grinning. “See you in fifteen.”
The phone disconnects, and I topple onto my rumpled pillow.
I haven’t finished my homework. Mom won’t be happy about that, but it’s not like the questions at the end of the chapter will get lonely without me. I wonder if Jade’s strange school gives her homework. If so, how big a pain is it to carry a pile of scrolls to class every day?
I shake my head. I need to get that dream out of my brain. Frighteningly, I’m beginning to think about Jade as if she’s a real person—an alternate version of myself.
I roll to my feet, grab a brush from my chest of drawers and run it through my hair. My unplanned nap has given me a hairdo to rival Frankenstein’s bride’s. I wince as I snag a thick snarl.
A haircut would help, but I like my hair long. It’s my one physical feature I don’t completely hate. While I work on it, I critically examine the rest of myself in the mirror. Eyes: Dark brown. Not nearly as interesting as Lily’s pale blue eyes. Complexion: Milk has a better tan than I do. Hair: Not bad except a little too straight and too dark. Lily’s jealous of my Asian features, but I’d do anything for a little of the natural wave in her hair.
What did the High Master say about mirrors? Something about standing too close to them and seeing only flaws?
There I go again! I can’t escape the dream even when I’m awake. A couple hours at the mall are definitely in order.
Once I’m groomed and dressed, I wander into the living room and play a few chords on the piano. Later, when Mom asks about it, I can nod and hope she doesn’t demand to know how long I actually practiced. The old AMC Pacer Lily’s dad drives announces their arrival by backfiring like a six-shooter.
“Quick!” Lily calls out when I step out the front door. “Get in! Two of your nosy neighbors are already looking out their windows.”
“Hey! My car isn’t that loud,” her dad protests. “Hi, Jenna.”
“Hi, Mr. West. Thanks for taking us to the mall.”
“No problem.”
The passenger door squeaks and groans like an unoiled Tin Man, and Lily scrunches low in her seat.
“I hate this car,” she mutters. “Do you hear me, car? I hate you!”
“Be polite to the old girl,” Mr. West warns. “You’ll be driving her when you get your provisional license. This model has great crash test ratings. Someday she might save your life.”
Lily grimaces. “Yeah, like that will ever happen.”
In response, the Yellow Beast belches an indignant cloud of oily exhaust.
“Dad won’t buy another car,” she complains in a loud whisper. “Asking him to sell the Beast is like asking him to abandon his favorite child.”
“I heard that.”
Mr. West pretends to glare at Lily through the rearview mirror. She sticks out her tongue, and I laugh. The two of them are always teasing each other. It puts a small ache in my stomach. I wish I had a dad. It would be nice to even remember what my father looks like, but Mom destroyed all his pictures when he left. The only thing I know about him is he lives somewhere in Oregon with the woman he left us for. Mom is the gentlest, most beautiful, most patient woman I know. I don’t understand what would make him decide to leave her.
It’s about five miles to the mall. True to her earlier threat, Lily makes her dad drop us off in the most isolated spot she can find.
“Maybe if you park it someplace with the keys in the ignition,” she tells him, “someone will take this piece of junk, and the insurance company will give you a check to buy a cute Volkswagen Beetle.”
The Beast responds with a bang from its rusted exhaust pipe, making both of us shriek. Mr. West laughs, waves at us, and pulls slowly away. “I’ll be back for you girls in two hours,” he shouts as the Yellow Beast sputters angrily across the parking lot.
“Sometimes I could swear that car’s a living thing with a personality of its own,” Lily says. “It hates me. It hates me almost as much as I hate it.”
A living machine. The suggestion sends a cold chill up my spine. I steer the conversation to something less creepy. “Tell me about that boy in your geometry class. What’s his name? Andrew? Do you still think he’s cute? Has he talked to you again?”
“We got caught passing notes to each other,” Lily says, blushing. “Mrs. Arias took fifteen points off our participation.”
“Maybe you should pay attention to her lessons and stop passing notes to boys.”
“I need some way to entertain myself. That class is boring!”
We’ve entered the mall now, and I stare at a display and freeze.
“What’s wrong?”
“Bingmayong,” I whisper.
“What?”
I tear my eyes away from the faceless mannequins.
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
I blink and force a smile.
Lily halfway closes an eye in a doubtful scowl, and I quickly walk past her and remove an Easter-yellow blouse from a rack.
“Look at this one, Lil. It would go great with my white skirt.”
“What was that word you said?”
“The blouse is on sale, too.”
Lily stares at me and follows my involuntary glance toward the mannequins.
Bingmayong.
I don’t know what it means. And I’m sure I don’t want to.
FIVE
五
JADE
When I sleep, I live an alternate life. Sometimes it’s a happier or merely more interesting one than my own. I call those dreams back as often as I can. I’m not supposed to do it because it’s illegal and would bring severe punishment if I’m ever found out, but sometimes the dreams let me see my mother—at least a comfortingly familiar version of her—and that makes her loss a little less unbearable.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been taught that dreams are inherently evil and must be suppressed, but even before the High Master dismissed this theory I had doubts about those lessons.
I’m still distracted by yesterday’s interview. So distracted that I incorrectly draw the bow across my erhu. It produces a discordant note that immediately draws Mistress Jiu-Li’s attention.
She waves a graceful white hand, silencing the room.
“Student Jade. I’m surprised.” Her piercing brown eyes bore into me. “You know to pull your bow inward across the D string. Please concentrate more carefully on the music.”
A row away, Opal, Willow, and Sage turn to smirk at me. I ignore them, inclining my head toward the teacher with just the right amount of obligatory meekness.
“Yes, Mistress Jiu-Li. My apologies to you and to the class.”
“If you’re done gawking now,” she says, glaring at Opal and her grinning associates, “we’ll return to the last hua yin and continue from there.”
I lightly grasp the erhu’s graceful neck and readjust its octagonal sound box to a more comfortable position acros
s my left thigh. Mistress Jiu-Li nods, we pull our bows across the strings again, and the erhus’ python-skin membranes vibrate to produce music.
There are no boys in this class. They have less frivolous pursuits to occupy their time. At this moment, Master Xin trains them in the Martial Pagoda, giving them necessary preparation for the two years mandatory service each male graduate must give the Imperial Army. I wonder if cold fear fills their stomachs when they think about fighting Dikang rebels in distant provinces. It can’t be any colder than the fear I feel when I consider my possible fate upon graduation—a forced marriage to a fat old Imperial official.
Mistress Jiu-Li strides between the rows and pauses next to me. She’s tall and graceful and would probably be beautiful if not for her pinched nose and perpetually stern expression. She senses my inner distraction, and I concentrate on the music until she moves away.
The boys are learning how to be warriors. I’m learning how to sing, dance, and make beautiful calligraphy. I’m training for the possible marriage to that fat official, and I hate it. I’d rather die in a bloody battle fighting rebels.
I glance at the ceiling where the paper lamps hang obediently on strings, and I experience the same impulse I felt in Master Yao’s class. A little Jinshu manipulation—that’s all it would take to bring them down across the first row’s heads. I imagine it happening and smile a little. Snap! A string breaks. A carefully strung line falls in slow motion. Rice paper orbs bounce harmlessly off unsuspecting heads, and Willow drops her erhu as the students around her let out startled screams.
It takes me a moment to realize this isn’t just happening inside my head. Mistress Jiu-Li is calling for order as she examines the fallen lamps.
“Silence, please! I will have you conduct yourselves with dignity!”
The afflicted students straighten their hair, and Willow snatches her erhu off the floor. The pagoda quiets, and that’s when we hear the rhythmic tramping of heavy feet.
Eternal Page 2