by Grace Lin
A soldier in green? Pinmei shivered and looked at Yishan, who was remembering his own encounter.
“I know that soldier,” Yishan said. “He threw me with one hand as if I were a bug.”
“He threw Feng Fu the same way,” said the man, his eyes bulging at the memory. “With one hand. Huge Feng Fu! The man who strangled an ox with his bare hands! The emperor’s soldiers must have special powers. They are invincible.”
Soldiers, or just that soldier? Pinmei thought. She clasped Amah’s bracelet, the cool stone warmer than her fingers.
“Well, if the emperor’s soldiers didn’t do this to you,” said Yishan, nodding at the man’s injuries, “who did?”
“My horse,” the man said, and laughed.
“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” Yishan said.
“Well,” the man said, “about a month ago, our mare ran away, and I cursed our bad luck until Old Sai said, ‘You don’t know. This may become a blessing.’ ”
“And I was right,” Old Sai said, pulling up some chairs.
“Yes, you were,” said the man. “Because a few weeks later, the horse returned—bringing back with it a splendid stallion. I was pleased with our good luck, but Old Sai said—”
“I said, ‘You don’t know. This may become a disaster,’ ” Old Sai finished, setting a small table close to the bed.
“And he was right,” the man said. “Because a few days ago, when I was riding the stallion, it threw me and I broke both my legs. Again, I bemoaned my misfortune.”
“And again,” Old Sai said, sitting down, “I said, ‘You don’t know. This may become a blessing.’ ”
“And again you were right,” Suya said, bringing in the tea. As she handed the young man his cup, she tenderly straightened his hair in a motherly gesture as she propped up his head. “For when the soldiers came, they rounded up all the men of the village. When they saw Sifen like this, they said he would be useless and left him.”
“But all the other men were taken?” Yishan asked.
“All the other young men,” Old Sai said, nodding. “They only wanted those who would be useful for work. They didn’t take anyone old like me.”
“Except for Amah,” Pinmei said. Her voice had been faint, but they had still heard her. She felt their curious gazes as she whispered, “He took my grandmother.”
A piece of tattered paper from the window blew into the room, floating for a moment between Pinmei and the others. It fell to the floor like a white flower petal.
“From the mountain,” Old Sai said, slowly nodding. “Then, you are the Storyteller’s granddaughter. I should have realized.”
Storyteller, Pinmei thought. That’s what the soldier called Amah as well. Her finger slowly circled the bracelet around her wrist, and she held it as close to herself as possible.
CHAPTER
13
“I hope you were not expecting dinner,” the woman said. “We’re poor people and we don’t have food to spare.”
“Suya,” Sifen admonished. “These children are guests.”
Suya flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be so stingy. It’s just that the emperor’s men seized everything. We would have nothing at all to eat if I hadn’t managed to hide this.”
With those words, Suya bent to the floor and pushed aside the blankets on Sifen’s bed, revealing a wood plank on the floor. As she lifted the plank, Pinmei saw a stone had been removed from the floor to create a hiding space for a small jar. Everyone leaned in as Suya opened the jar and the uncooked rice began to fall from it like beads from a broken necklace.
“Oh!” Suya cried, and she quickly began to pick up the spilled rice. Pinmei knelt down to help her. Their eyes met and Pinmei felt a sudden kinship. She knew what it was like to be worried about rice in a jar.
“We can’t afford to lose one grain now,” Suya said to her. “After this is gone, we will have nothing.”
“I wish I could give you the magic red stone,” Pinmei said without thinking.
“Magic red stone?” Suya said.
“Oh, nothing,” Pinmei said, her throat tightening. She felt her words begin to hide, as if scurrying to the hole in the floor.
“Too bad. It sounded like something from a story,” Suya said with a wry smile. “We could use one. Sifen loves stories.”
“Yes, I do!” Sifen said, overhearing their conversation. “Especially these days, when I would do anything to think of something other than this.” He motioned to his bandaged legs and grimaced. “Come, Storyteller’s granddaughter! Do you have a story to share?”
Pinmei opened her mouth, but no sound came out. A stone of ice began to grow in her throat, and she clutched at the jade bracelet. How she wished Amah were here! Amah would tell these people a story; her safe, soothing voice would wrap them in a warm blanket. Pinmei felt a longing wash over her, and she shook her head.
“Yes, you do!” Yishan said in his scoffing tone. “Pinmei, you know every story Amah has ever told.”
Pinmei felt everyone’s eyes on her, and the stone in her throat grew and pushed against her lungs and heart. She tried to gulp, but the air seemed to have turned solid. Amah! Pinmei thought desperately. I need you! Blindly, she turned to run from the room in panic.
But a hot hand grabbed hers. Pinmei looked down to see Sifen gazing up at her, the lines on his face painting a picture of his pain.
“Please,” he said. “Please, tell me a story.”
The heat of his hand traveled up her arm, and the ice inside her began to melt. Amah is not here, Pinmei thought. There’s only me. She looked again at Sifen’s pleading eyes and swallowed. When it is time for you to do something, you will do it. Amah’s words echoed, untying and smoothing the knotted string of Pinmei’s voice. Slowly, Pinmei nodded. Then she took a deep breath, and, with a whisper, she started the story.
After Nuwa, the goddess with the fish tail, mended the sky, there were still many problems. The sea overflowed with water from the Starry River of the Sky and churned with monstrous beasts. The waters were in complete chaos.
At that time, there was a young boy named Ku-Ang. His father had been a fisherman, so the sea’s transformation was devastating to them. What had once been home was now a place of peril and the family was poverty stricken.
To help, Ku-Ang gathered firewood to sell to other villagers.
One day, while collecting wood, Ku-Ang saw something red glittering on the ground. Curious, he picked it up. It was a red stone.
It was small and round and smooth, and while it did not glow, it was so shiny Ku-Ang could see himself reflected in it.
It was rather pretty, so Ku-Ang thought he would give it to his mother. He put it in his lunch bag and continued to gather wood.
However, at lunchtime, there were two dumplings in his bag instead of one. Ku-Ang scratched his head. He was sure there had only been one dumpling in the morning. Had the stone done something?
When he returned home that evening, instead of giving the stone to his mother as he had planned, he slipped it into the half-empty rice jar.
The next morning, before his parents awoke, Ku-Ang peeked into the rice jar. The jar was full!
“It was the stone!” Ku-Ang said. Laughing, he called out to his family.
But after Ku-Ang told his story, his father shook his head.
“That stone does not belong to us,” he said. “You must return it to where you found it.”
Ashamed, Ku-Ang returned to the mountain forest. When he arrived at the place where he had found the stone, he saw an old man sitting as if waiting for him.
“Was this your stone?” Ku-Ang asked as he bowed and offered the stone.
“There are three things of Nuwa left here on earth,” the old man said, ignoring Ku-Ang’s question. “A tear, a strand of hair, and a drop of blood. You are holding the drop of blood.”
Ku-Ang gasped and dropped the red stone in the old man’s lap. The old man looked into Ku-Ang’s eye
s.
“If you are pure of heart,” the old man said, “this stone will bring the Sea King to calm the waters.”
The Sea King? Ku-Ang’s eyes widened. If the Sea King could calm the waters, the monsters would stop coming to shore. People would not live in fear and his father could fish again. The world could return to normal.
“But to find him,” the old man said, placing the stone back in Ku-Ang’s hand, “you must bring the stone safely to the top of the mountain north of the village.”
Ku-Ang gulped. No one went to the Northern Mountain. Evil beasts plagued the way. But to have a Sea King! Ku-Ang turned and began to make his way to the Northern Mountain.
To get to the Northern Mountain, Ku-Ang had to cross the abandoned Black Bridge. As he stepped onto it, a monstrous snake sprang from the water, and Ku-Ang saw horrible, sharp teeth coming toward him. But right before they snapped upon him, the snake caught sight of Ku-Ang’s prize.
“The red stone!” it hissed. “You wish to go to the Northern Mountain?”
“Yes,” Ku-Ang said, his head high even though his legs trembled.
“Do you know horrible Haiyi?” the evil creature asked.
Horrible Haiyi? He was the wicked bully of the village. Ku-Ang knew Haiyi and his cruelty all too well.
“Yes.” Ku-Ang nodded.
“I will let you pass if you agree to bring me the ears of horrible Haiyi’s old mother,” the enormous snake hissed. “Or I will kill you right now!”
“Never!” Ku-Ang shouted instantly. “I have my own mother, and I will never harm another’s!”
“Then die!” the snake hissed, and it seized Ku-Ang with its knifelike teeth, lifted him up into the sky, and flung him away with all its might.
Ku-Ang landed painfully on the ground, across the lake, bleeding and gasping. But the stone was still in his hand, so he pushed himself up and began to stagger toward the Northern Mountain. He had only made it halfway across the plain when a large black shadow began to circle around him. Clutching his injured side, he looked up.
Above him was a gigantic, vile bird, green poison shining on its feathers. With a horrible shriek, it landed in front of Ku-Ang, its foul smell making him flinch.
“The red stone!” it screeched. “You wish to go to the Northern Mountain?”
“Yes,” Ku-Ang said.
“Do you know horrible Haiyi?” the bird screamed.
Ku-Ang nodded.
“I will let you pass if you agree to bring me the bones of horrible Haiyi’s younger brother,” the evil bird screeched. “Or I will kill you now.”
“Never!” Ku-Ang shouted. “I have my own brother, and I would never harm another’s!”
“Then die!” the bird shrieked, and it grabbed Ku-Ang with its stabbing claws, flew into the sky, and flung him away with all its might.
When Ku-Ang was finally able to open his eyes and sit up, he saw he sat on the Northern Mountain. The sea stretched below him, the red stone was in his hand, and the top of the mountain was not far away. Although he sobbed with pain, he knew he could not give up now. Swaying and stumbling, he made his way toward the top of the mountain.
Just as he was reaching the top, he heard a loud shout that filled him with dread. It was horrible Haiyi!
“Ku-Ang!” Haiyi bellowed. “Give me that stone!”
Ku-Ang clutched the stone. He could not let Haiyi have it. Should he throw it into the sea? But then I’ll never find the Sea King, Ku-Ang thought. “What should I do?”
The ruffian had almost reached him. His ugly face jeered as he saw that Ku-Ang was trapped. “Give me that stone,” Haiyi called, “or I’ll get you!”
“Never!” Ku-Ang shouted, and he put the stone in his mouth and swallowed it.
Immediately, an excruciating pain burned inside him. A noise bellowed from his throat, startling Haiyi and himself. Ku-Ang fell backward off the cliff, slowly turning and spinning in the air.
The sky seemed to embrace him, for the wind blew around him as if coating him with a new skin. The pain from the stone began to dissipate, but Ku-Ang could still feel its power pulsating; his whole body felt as if it were bursting.
Ku-Ang stretched his hands in front of him, and, with shock, he saw they had turned into claws! His arms were covered in scales! And as he plummeted downward, he saw his reflection in the strangely still water. He had turned into a dragon!
The sea stirred. A wild whirlpool began to spin, its white waves becoming a herd of longma—dragon horses—racing to herald him in. When Ku-Ang touched the water, a crashing roar echoed and the entire sea opened, as if welcoming an honored ruler.
For it was. Ku-Ang, the Sea King, had arrived.
“So the boy turned into a dragon and found himself the king of the sea,” Old Sai said.
Pinmei looked at him in surprise, her eyes refocusing. She had gotten so lost in telling the story she had forgotten people were listening.
“That was great!” Sifen said, his face glowing. “You truly are the Storyteller’s granddaughter!” And Pinmei felt a shy smile creep onto her face.
“That red stone,” Yishan said. “I know we’re not sure about the dragon’s pearl… Do you think maybe that’s the stone the emperor is looking for?” He looked at her.
Pinmei slowly shook her head. “The red stone never glowed,” Pinmei said. “It would never have lit the night like the one the emperor keeps asking for.”
“And what would the emperor want with a stone that doubles rice and dumplings? He has plenty of both!” Suya said, but she was looking at Sifen’s changed face with a smile. She turned to include the others, and Pinmei saw that unlike her earlier close-lipped smile, this one was soft and kind.
“Maybe the emperor would want it so he could be transformed into a dragon,” Old Sai suggested.
“I doubt it,” Sifen said. “Besides, didn’t the old man say you had to be pure of heart? You couldn’t say that about the emperor.”
“Shh! Sifen!” Suya said, looking as if she were afraid a soldier would jump out of a wall. She stood up and shook her head. “I’ll go start dinner,” she said, and then added, with a warm glance at the children, “for all of us.”
CHAPTER
14
Amah fell on the stone floor of the dungeon. The guard said nothing but lifted her so she sat against the wall and locked a long leg chain around her ankle. Then, as if ashamed, he took off his outer garment and laid it over her. Feeling its warmth on her, Amah looked up at him gratefully, but he did not meet her eyes. Instead, he turned and closed the door.
“Ah, another lucky one,” a weak voice said.
Amah turned toward the voice, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. A man sat on the opposite side like a stick of bamboo leaning against the wall, his leg also chained.
“Are we lucky?” Amah said.
“Yes,” the man said. “We are prisoners. It is obvious the emperor does not keep many. He prefers to send them to work or have them killed.”
Amah looked at him, noticing the whiteness of his skin and his gaunt face.
“You have been a prisoner a long time,” she said.
“I was imprisoned by the emperor when he was still known as the Tiger King,” the man said with a bitter laugh. “While the Imperial Palace is supposed to be grander, the dungeons are all the same.”
“The emperor took you with him?” Amah asked.
“Strange, is it not?” the man said. “But he thinks he might have need for me in the future. He said as much when he had the guards take me away. First he ordered me executed, but then he changed his mind.”
“Changed his mind?” Amah said. “Why were you being punished to begin with?”
“Well,” the man said, “a giant white stone washed up from the sea and the Tiger King ordered me to make a sculpture of himself on a horse from it.”
“And you didn’t?” Amah said.
“Oh, I did,” the stonecutter said. “My daughter and I worked on it for months. But when we finished,
my daughter said, ‘Father, the horse is so beautiful, but the man is so ugly! He ruins it!’ And I could not help but agree. Finally, we could not bear it, so my daughter and I smashed the man off the horse. Of course, the Tiger King was not happy.”
“So he was going to have you executed.” Amah nodded. “Then what happened?”
“I remember it well,” the man said, as if in a dream. “The guards were just about to drag me away when the Tiger King said under his breath, ‘He said I would not learn from my mistakes. Bah!’ And then he ordered the guards to stop and said, ‘Put him in the dungeon. I may have need for him later.’ ”
“Ah, I see.” Amah nodded again. “How interesting. The past repeats itself.”
“The past?” the stonecutter said, looking at Amah. “You know of another stonecutter who shared my fate?”
“Almost,” Amah said. “The story is very similar.”
“Tell me,” the stonecutter said.
Long ago, a strange stone from the sea rolled up onto the shore. It was smooth, pure white, and the width of a gang of wine. The townspeople were sure it was lucky—perhaps even a gift from the Sea King himself. Finally, word of the stone came to the ears of the magistrate of the town.
The magistrate was well known for his ruthlessness, as well as his greed. He was powerful, so powerful! The magistrate was said to have the ear of the emperor’s most trusted advisor, and his own son was king of a neighboring city. As a result, he ruled his area with absolute power, roaring his orders so constantly the villagers called him Magistrate Tiger.
When Magistrate Tiger roared for the stone, his subjects brought it without delay. The magistrate marveled at the stone’s beauty. Immediately he called in the most skilled stonecutter in the village.
“Carve me a dragon from this stone,” the magistrate ordered. “An immortal dragon of power cut from this stone will be a fitting sculpture for my formal chamber.”
A dragon! The stonecutter gulped. Only the imperial family was allowed to use an image of a dragon. The magistrate’s imperial connection was only by his son’s marriage—not considered strong enough to claim a dragon! But he knew better than to protest, so he nodded and took the stone to carve.