Eternal

by Grant, Alasdair

  I close my eyes and rub my fingers across my eyelids. Again my dreams and reality are intersecting, and, frighteningly, I’m starting to wonder if Jade’s the dream or if it’s me.

  I shut the book and shove it to the lamp table’s far edge. Yeye turns his cataract-clouded eyes toward me. I’m glad he can’t see me well, because, if he could, fear would be clearly written across my face.

  My dreams aren’t dreams. They’re real. I can no longer comfort myself by pretending they aren’t. My brain and my life are linked to an alternate self in an alternate reality.

  THIRTEEN

  十三

  JADE

  “Jade… Are you all right? Jade… Jade!”

  Lily holds me by both arms, shaking me. I blink and stare.

  For some reason, she’s frightened.

  “Where am I?”

  “Outside the Pagoda of Ages. We were on our way to history lessons with Master Ai. Don’t you remember?”

  I look around. Several other students have stopped to gawk at us. Among them are Opal, Willow, and Sage. Opal looks at me then exchanges a glance with Lily. Lily’s face darkens, and the muscles along her jaw harden.

  “Come on,” Lily whispers brusquely. “You need to get up.”

  She helps me to my feet and leads me firmly off the footpath.

  “What happened?” I ask as we move beneath a willow’s concealing branches.

  “You stopped walking, started staring into empty space, and… Well… You went stiff and fell.”

  I don’t remember any of that. I only remember the dream. But it isn’t nighttime. I haven’t been sleeping.

  “I think I should take you to the infirmary,” Lily whispers.

  I nod, and we walk there in silence, neither of us inclined to speak.

  “I’ll miss Master Ai’s lecture,” I say.

  “Don’t worry,” Lily replies. “I’ll share my notes. If Master Ai doesn’t bore me to sleep.”

  I look at her to see if I’m supposed to laugh, but Lily still has a hard, dark look on her face. She doesn’t look like Lily. She looks different. Older. Distant.

  I don’t have time to decipher her unusual mood because I have more pressing things to ponder. Why are the dreams now striking me in broad daylight?

  The infirmary is a stark white building tucked away in a tree-shrouded corner behind the Martial Pagoda. It’s square, unadorned, completely devoid of architectural beauty. Maybe that’s why it’s hidden.

  No one greets us when we arrive, which is odd because Mistress Tianshi, the academy’s gaunt auburn-haired nurse, is always bustling around the one-room building brewing medicines and scrubbing things. Mistress Song must have known Mistress Tianshi would be away. That’s why she sent me here.

  I glance at Lily. I need to get rid of her, but I feel guilty about doing it.

  “You’d better hurry to class,” I say. “Master Ai will be starting his lesson, and both of us need those notes.”

  “I don’t think I should leave you alone. What if you pass out again?”

  I try to think what to say, but a soft voice interrupts us before I can speak.

  “Student Lily… Student Jade… What are the two of you doing here?”

  We spin around. We bow to Mistress Song, and she returns our bow.

  “Something happened to Jade,” Lily says. “She… Well, we’re not exactly sure what happened. She went into some kind of trance then passed out and fell to the ground.”

  A shadow eclipses Mistress Song’s face. She stares at me several moments before saying to Lily, “You need to be in class. I’ll sit with Jade until Mistress Tianshi returns. Hurry along, Student Lily. Your teacher will be wondering where you are.”

  Lily looks like she’s about to protest, but you don’t question a teacher’s command. Frowning, she stiffly bows and departs. Mistress Song waits until Lily has disappeared beyond the Martial Pagoda before she turns to me to speak.

  “Over here,” she tells me, gesturing toward a wooden bench next to Mistress Tianshi’s medical table.

  I follow her and sit.

  “A trance?” she asks.

  I lower my eyes and nod.

  “Did anyone witness it? Anyone other than Lily?”

  “A few students. It happened outside between classes.”

  She pulls her lips into a tight, straight line, gives her head a barely perceptible shake.

  “Master Ning was right. We must train you quickly.”

  She ponders a moment then retrieves something from her robes’ voluminous folds and presses it into my hand.

  “Wear this under your qipao. Keep it with you day and night.”

  The object is cold and hard, and it’s attached to a braided leather loop. I know what it is before I open my hand.

  “Jenna’s pendant,” I say.

  Mistress Song arches her thin eyebrows.

  “From my dream,” I explain. “I…I saw a necklace in a dream. It’s for protection, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I’ll explain the why and how of it later. First, tell me everything you remember about your dreams.”

  Guilt washes over me. I know Mistress Song and Master Ning aren’t opposed to dreams, but dreams are still unlawful, and, no matter how harmless I think mine are, I should have brought an end to them long before this. Mistress Song reads my thoughts and lightly touches my knee.

  “It’s all right, Jade. Dreams must be kept secret, but they aren’t wrong. You’ll understand soon enough why the Emperor fears them.”

  Fears them? I thought his thirteenth Glorious Virtue was ‘fearless.’

  I take a deep breath. He might think he’s fearless, but I don’t entertain any such delusions about myself. Lately I’m feeling fear about a lot of things.

  Mistress Song is still watching me, waiting to hear, and I decide it might ease my burden to tell her, so I take a deep breath and begin.

  “When I dream,” I say, “I visit another world. A world with no Eternal Emperor.”

  Mistress Song sits a little taller, leans toward me.

  “A world where he never existed?” she asks.

  I remember Jenna’s World History class.

  “No. I don’t think so. It’s a world where he never became…eternal.”

  “Describe this world. What is a world like when it’s not ruled by an Eternal Emperor?”

  “Different,” I say. “Jenna doesn’t have to follow the rules I do. She doesn’t bow to her teachers or lower her eyes to show respect. There are boundaries, but they don’t seem as strict as ours.”

  “What else?”

  “Her world seems…faster.”

  “In what way?”

  “Busier. Everything is rushed. People travel at high speeds in noisy metal carts and fly in giant cylinders that look like silver fish with wings. Everyone carries tiny tablets—I don’t know what magic they use—but the tablets send voices and written words to friends in distant places. Sometimes Jenna’s world overwhelms me.”

  Surprisingly, Mistress Song looks neither shocked nor disbelieving, merely interested in—and perhaps a little pleased by—what I’m saying.

  “You see this world through the other girl’s eyes,” she says. “You know her thoughts and emotions, and she knows yours.”

  “Yes.”

  “How much has Master Ning explained about the linking process and its effects?”

  “Not much. Only that it happens through the Fifth Amplitude, and…and that people who are linked become immortal…”

  I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that last part. No one lives forever. No one but the Eternal Emperor.

  “For the time being,” Mistress Song says, “that’s all you need to know. Speak about it to no one but Master Ning or me. A misspoken word could bring death to you and anyone who hears it.”

  Made nervous by her own warning, she stares out the infirmary’s open door and lowers her voice. “Return to the art pagoda after evening meal. If it appears safe to proceed, we’ll continue y
our training.”

  “Yes, Mistress Song.”

  I see a movement outside the door. A shadow? But when I blink and look closer, I see nothing.

  Just my jangled nerves. I’m sure I’ll be dealing with a lot of that in the foreseeable future.

  FOURTEEN

  十四

  JENNA

  The tiny souvenir shop is crowded like Yeye’s apartment. You can hardly turn without knocking a T-Shirt from its hanger or bumping something off a shelf. I grab a box of colorful Chinese ‘handcuffs’ before it hits the floor and return it to its place by the cheap paper fans. Not everything here is inexpensive. Hidden among the clutter, one can find what appear to be authentic and beautiful pieces. I pause to admire a hand-carved miniature landscape sandwiched between two glass sheets. It holds a tiny pagoda that dominates a backdrop of rocks, trees, and bushes all carved from a single piece of cork.

  A few feet further I come across an entire shelf devoted to Chinese meditation balls. I take two from their open case and rotate them around and around my palm. This set is fashioned from a marbled green and white stone. Lily would like them, but they’re kind of expensive.

  And then I find it. The perfect gift.

  “Do you think Lily would go for this?” I ask Mom.

  I hold up a dark red silk blouse—a qipao?—with a high collar, yellow trim, and a plum blossom pattern.

  “I think she’ll love it,” Mom says. “But it won’t be complete without one of these.”

  She picks up a conical straw hat—the kind you see in pictures of Chinese farmers— places it on her head, and models it for me.

  “Lily’s too Caucasian to pull that off,” I say, “but it’s darn sexy on you, Mom.”

  We both laugh. It feels good to see her being playful. She’s always so serious, like she’s waiting for the worst to happen.

  “And what about you?” Mom says.

  “Wear one of those? I don’t think so.”

  “No. I’m meaning is there anything you’d like to take home? How about this cute navy cheongsam?”

  Mom shows me one of the oriental blouses. Cheongsam. Jade must speak Mandarin, not Cantonese. She and Mom have different words for everything.

  “It’s nice,” I say, my fingers straying to Yeye’s jade pendant, “but I think I already have something to remember this trip by.”

  Mom nods. “It suits you well.”

  “Was it a family heirloom?”

  “Not one I’ve ever seen. But it is now. Maybe you can pass it on to your great-granddaughter someday.”

  “That would be cool.”

  I try to imagine myself old and withered like Yeye, handing a small box to one of my own posterity. I quickly chase the image out of my head. The thought of me that ancient is too disturbing to consider.

  “Before he grew too ill to run his business,” Mom says, “Yeye collected and sold oriental antiques.”

  “That’s why his apartment is so crowded with all that stuff?”

  Mom smiles. “He was always a pack rat. It used to drive Yingying crazy.”

  “Yingying. Your grandmother, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I stare at my jade pendant and ask a question that has bothered me ever since we came to Chinatown. “Why did you stop seeing Grandpa and Yeye? What happened between you?”

  “It’s complicated,” Mom says, and she wears the same pinched look I see any time my dad is mentioned. She doesn’t want to discuss it, so I reluctantly change the subject.

  “Will we come back again when he dies? For his funeral?”

  “No.”

  I’m glad. I don’t deal well with death. I’ve hated it since I was seven years old when my blue parakeet died. I never asked for another pet.

  “I prefer to remember Yeye the way he was when he was alive,” Mom says. Apparently she feels she has to explain it to me. “And who knows how long he’ll go on living. Sometimes I think Yeye is immortal—that he’ll live forever.”

  I flinch. Immortal. Strangely, that word now bothers me as much as its antonym.

  “We have about an hour before we need to get back to the hotel,” Mom says. “I’ve scheduled another cab to take us to the airport. Have you made up your mind about Lily’s present?”

  “The… What did you call it? Cheongsam?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’ll flip out when she sees it. And the Chinese hat. Even though she’ll probably look ridiculous in it, I have to get her the hat! By the way, did you know you’re still wearing it?”

  Mom touches the brim with both hands, looks momentarily startled, laughs at herself and removes it.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to buy you something?”

  “I’m fine. Remember? I have the necklace Yeye gave me.”

  “All right. Let’s pay for these things and be on our way. If we hurry, we might have time to visit another store or two.”

  Mom goes to the checkout counter, and I wander to a rotating postcard rack. I find a picture of Chinatown’s Dragon Gate and turn the card over to read the caption. As I’m returning it, I notice a grungy man at the storefront window staring in at me. The postcard flutters slowly to the floor. The man at the window grins, showing me his yellow teeth.

  Mom’s talking to the clerk, a young woman in a Cal State T-Shirt. Behind the counter, a pair of tasseled butterfly swords hangs on the wall. I consider lunging for the swords before he enters and attacks me, but when I turn back to the window, the homeless man has vanished. A shudder starts at my toes and travels slowly through my frame.

  There’s no question about it. He’s the man from the airport—the same one who crashed the car outside our hotel yesterday. But who is he? And how does he keep finding me? Goose bumps prickle up my arms.

  “Ready?” Mom asks.

  “Um… Yes.”

  I pick up the dropped postcard and put it where it’s supposed to go. A small bell chimes as we exit the shop. On the street there’s no sign of my sinister stalker, but I get a prickly feeling on my scalp that makes me think I’m being watched.

  Strange dreams. Creepy stalkers. I’ve had enough of it. I’m ready to go home.

  FIFTEEN

  十五

  JADE

  Lily remains unusually quiet as we kneel in the dining pavilion balancing small rice bowls in our palms. Instead of jabbering about school work or attractive boys, she alternately prods her rice and stirs it with her chopsticks.

  “What did Master Ai lecture about while I was at the infirmary?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I was distracted.”

  Her crisp reply startles me.

  “I never got the chance to thank you,” I say. “You know. For walking me to the infirmary. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She doesn’t acknowledge my thanks. Instead, she impales an innocent water chestnut with her chopsticks’ blunt tips.

  “Mistress Tianshi came back about five minutes after you left,” I continue. “Master Ning wasn’t feeling well, so she was at his pavilion checking on him.”

  More silence.

  “When she came back, she gave me a cup of chamomile tea to ‘calm me’ and sent me to class.”

  All this is true, but I can’t tell Lily I think Master Ning’s ‘illness’ was orchestrated so Mistress Song could talk to me. I can’t confide anything. My insides are twisting with guilt.

  Lily stops torturing her dinner and noisily places her bowl on the bamboo deck.

  “What’s wrong, Lily? Why are you mad at me?”

  “Don’t you have some place you need to be?” she snaps.

  “Yes. I’m supposed to meet Mistress Song for…”

  I let my sentence trail off.

  “Is that why you’re angry?” I ask. “Because I have a special art class with Mistress Song? Because I have one and you don’t?” The injustice of her resentment ignites my own temper. “It’s stupid for you to be jealous. You don’t even know—”

  Lily stands and cuts me
off.

  “No! You don’t know. You don’t know half as much as you think you know! But there are things I know. Your ‘art’ lessons for instance. I know what you’re really studying when you meet with Mistress Song!”

  I gape at her and then cast a quick glance around. Other students have stopped eating to stare.

  “Lily,” I say, keeping my voice low. “What are you talking about? I—”

  She storms away before I can form my lie.

  She’s halfway to the girl’s dormitory when I start thinking clearly enough to get up and follow. In my haste, I spill my rice over the girl nearest me.

  “Hey!”

  I apologize, trip over the boy seated next to her, and apologize again. By the time I reach the dining pavilions’ far edge, Lily has already disappeared.

  She knows. And if she knows, who else realizes I’m receiving illegal training? My heart hammers so hard it shakes my body. I have to catch her and find out who told her. Surely she won’t turn me in once she calms down enough to realize what that would mean.

  She isn’t in our assigned sleeping area when I search there. I run through the other partitioned rooms also finding nothing. In desperation, I even search the bathing hall, looking behind terra cotta water pots, parting privacy curtains, and opening tall linen closets. I finally realize she probably came through the front entrance and went straight out the back door. No sign of her out there. My heart constricts. If she tells anyone else…

  Panic is crushing my chest, forcing the air from my lungs.

  Don’t you have some place you need to be?

  Yes, I do. And it’s the only place I can think to go for help.

  In my imagination, I already hear the bingmayongs’ tramping feet as they come for me.

  SIXTEEN

  十六

  JADE

  I’m so distraught I don’t remember to bow when I enter. I don’t remember to leave my sandals at the door or demurely lower my eyes.