When the Sea Turned to Silver

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When the Sea Turned to Silver Page 12

by Grace Lin


  When the rich lord turned sixty, he decided he would throw his most lavish banquet.

  “I have seen the Year of the Monkey five times!” the lord said with pride. “I shall have a celebration to match such an auspicious event!”

  So he ordered the slaughter of a ­half-­dozen pigs and a flock of ducks and arranged for the most luxurious ­long-­life robe to be made for himself. As he inspected the fabrics, a blue silk pleased him so much he decided not only to have a robe made of it, but also to use it to line the road to his house. It will be a fitting pathway to my home, he thought.

  However, the road outside the house was not in good condition, and the delicate silk wrinkled over the many cracks and holes in the street.

  “This will not do!” the lord roared, and he commanded his servants to even out the road by filling the gaps with uncooked rice.

  “But won’t people try to take the rice?” a servant protested.

  “Have anyone who tries arrested,” the lord growled. “No beggar is to steal even a single grain!”

  So the servants did as they were told, to the horrified awe of the people on the street. More than once, hungry beggars attempted to grab a handful of rice. But the lord’s servants promptly had them thrown in jail.

  When the servants finished their work and the silk lay smoothly on the road, an old man came walking down it, leaning on a stick. As he walked, the grains of rice made a crunching noise under his feet. He stopped in front of the lord’s house, raising his head to breathe in the delicious smells of the upcoming banquet.

  “Eight Treasure Duck,” the old man murmured to himself, licking his lips as is if he were tasting the savory flavors. “Lion Head Pork Meatballs…”

  “Away from here!” a servant cried. “Away!”

  “Please,” the old man said, stretching out an arm, “your master is having a grand feast. Surely you can spare a small bit for me?”

  “Go!” the servant yelled, waving a stick.

  “Perhaps,” the old man said, “I could just take a few grains of this rice, then?”

  And the old man reached down and plucked some rice from underneath the silk.

  “Thief!” the servants bellowed, calling for the others. “Thief!”

  With the other servants came the lord of the house, who was furious to be called away from his party.

  “You worthless body,” the lord screeched. “How dare you try to steal from me!”

  He turned to his servants. “Beat him until every part of him is bruised and broken!”

  The servants lifted their sticks, but instead of cowering, the old man stood calmly. The servants hesitated, but the lord snapped angrily, “Do as I say! Now!”

  They began striking him. The old man remained unmoved, but after the first few blows, the lord began to howl with pain. “Stop!” he cried. “Stop!” For each time they hit the old man, it was the lord who felt it. He collapsed, whimpering, on the ground.

  The old man continued to stand. “Goodbye,” he said to the stunned crowds. “I cannot say I enjoyed your company, but I shall leave you something to remember me by.”

  He walked down the silk pathway. When he reached the end of the silk, he turned to look at the staring servants and the sniveling lord and bent down. Then, as if breathing out a cloud, he blew.

  The silk lifted and waved, and the hundreds of thousands of grains of rice rose into the air. They whipped up into the sky and flew toward the lord and his ­servants like a swarm of mosquitoes. They cringed, but the rice fell upon them without mercy, melting into their skin. Immediately, their faces and bodies were covered with hundreds of white ­scars—­all shaped like the grains of rice that had rained upon them. They shouted in dismay and shock and looked for the old man. But the old man was nowhere in sight. Unlike the scars, he had faded away and was never seen again.

  “Yes, yes,” the woman said. “It was just like that. The old story had been whispered down through the House of Wu for generations, but none believed it happened or, if it did, that it could happen again. But it did, and almost exactly the same ­way—­except it was my mistress and she had a silk the green color of jade.” She shook her head. “How they love their jade.”

  “Then, did you… you…” Pinmei faltered.

  The scarred woman sat down heavily and looked at her empty hands, her ­bell-­shaped figure an iron shadow in the light of the lantern.

  “I was named after a great hero, you know?” she said softly. “And I always wanted to be the same. And back then, it seemed like I was. For I was as mighty as any man and just as proud.”

  The fire in the cookstove flickered and wavered, making noises like the opening of a crumpled paper. Outside, the black sky began to thin.

  “But that was only on the outside,” the scarred woman said, her huge shoulders slumping. “Inside, I was weak and cowardly. I was too scared not to follow the commands of my masters. I beat the beggar.”

  The woman lifted her head. Night was fading, and faint gauze ribbons of light stretched through the window toward them.

  “When I heard you calling for help,” she said, putting her hand on Pinmei’s cheek, “I knew this was a chance to make amends for my past shame. I could not be a coward again. You have thanked me, but it is I who thank you.”

  Outside, the sun rose and the soft light streamed in. The gray glow of morning did nothing to disguise the scars on the woman’s face, but they could see the gentle look in her eyes.

  Pinmei felt tears beginning to sting. The woman’s hands were warm and wrinkled, touching hers with a tenderness so much like Amah’s.

  “You are tired,” the woman said. “Come and rest.”

  Pinmei let herself be led to a large pillow next to the stove, its heat bathing her in warmth. Her weary legs and arms were limp and all but collapsed onto the padding.

  “Who was the hero you were named after?” Pinmei asked, her eyes already beginning to close.

  “The great Haiyi,” the woman said. “He was one of my ancestors.”

  “But he…” Pinmei began, but a yawn interrupted her words.

  “Shhh,” the woman said. “It matters not.”

  Pinmei’s words and fears melted in the warmth of the woman’s kindness, and she did not try to say more. She was so tired.

  “Now,” the woman said, “just rest.”

  So Pinmei did.

  CHAPTER

  41

  Who should he call? He did not know if he was in the sky, the earth, or the sea. It did not really matter. Whomever he called, someone would come. But, before this, he had last been swimming in the lake, so he would call the Sea King.

  But how to reach him?

  None had heard his cries. However, even to his own ears, his bellows seemed muffled. Perhaps, outside this golden emptiness, his sounds were stifled to silence.

  He would have to send a message directly.

  The Black Tortoise hesitated. Was it the only way?

  It would not hurt him and he would heal immediately, he knew. But still, it was… unpleasant.

  He looked around again and saw only the bare brilliance. He twisted his arms and legs, feeling the emptiness.

  Yes, it was the only way. Very well.

  He stuck out his tongue, stretching it as long as he could. Then, with a powerful snap, he bit off his tongue with his own teeth.

  It fell on the gold ground, only to bound back up as if springing from a cushion. It began to roll and twist, lengthening and thinning, until it looked like a long black cord knotted at one end. Finally, it made a sinuous curve toward him, the bulbous knot resembling a head.

  The Black Tortoise blew on it, a calm, controlled gust of air. The black coil trembled. From its knotted head, two eyes opened. Something tiny, like a frayed string, flicked from its mouth.

  His tongue had turned into a snake.

  CHAPTER

  42

  “What is this? Who is that?” a sharp voice shouted. ­Pinmei woke up as if she had been slapped. She open
ed her eyes and saw Haiyi, the servant, cringing in the corner, and two richly dressed figures standing over her. As one of ­them—­a puny man heaped with lavish fur and ­silk—­turned to glare at her, Pinmei could see they were as scarred as the servant. Their opulent clothing, elaborate and glittering, could not hide their disfigurement, and their unpleasant expressions made them hideous. Pinmei knew immediately these were the masters of the House of Wu.

  “You’re always helping little beggars to our property!” screeched the other of ­them—­the woman—as ornate gold pins in her hair shook. She threw a bowl at the servant. It broke against the wall next to Haiyi’s head, the cold soup splashing everywhere. “Rice porridge! Dumplings! I’ve seen you!”

  “I’ve only given my portion!” Haiyi protested, not even bothering to wipe the liquid from her face.

  “And now you even let them into our house!” shrieked the man, grabbing the broomstick leaning against the wall. He raised it wickedly, his silk sleeve falling to reveal his hairy, wiry arm. “How dare you!”

  “No, please, master!” Haiyi begged, cowering. “Please!”

  But before the man could lower the stick, Pinmei rushed forward.

  “Stop!” she screamed, placing herself between the man and Haiyi. “Stop it!”

  The man sputtered in shock and outrage, and Pinmei could only stare back. He looked more like an animal than a man. His ­rough-­skinned face was purple with rage, and the veins in his eyes bulged like tiny red worms. Pinmei paled, but she did not move.

  “You want a taste of the stick too, you little beggar?” the man sneered, spitting drops of saliva.

  “I’m not a beggar!” Pinmei said, raising her voice to hide its quavering. Without thinking, she took the jade bracelet off her arm and held it up.

  The green circle seemed to glow. Vibrant and clear, the sunlight glided through it, making an emerald ring of light on the wall. Even from a distance, all could see the bracelet’s exquisite beauty and were, for a moment, stunned into silence.

  Yishan and Lady Meng, awakened by the noise, came in from the other room, but Pinmei barely saw them. Her eyes were fixed on the masters of the House of Wu. Their heads looked small sticking out of their extravagant fur collars, but their mouths were wide open.

  Their expressions shifted, and Pinmei watched their shock transform into desire. The woman’s eyes glittered like black beetles in her ravaged face, and the man licked his lips as if hungry. Pinmei swallowed.

  “Do you want this?” Pinmei said, holding the bracelet higher. The polished stone glinted, and Pinmei felt as if she were offering a treat to rabid dogs. “Then promise you will never hit her again and you’ll leave us alone!”

  Almost panting with greed, the two quickly nodded and Pinmei slowly held out the jade bracelet. They pounced toward her, and Pinmei felt a sharp, sad pain in her chest. How often had she clung to this bracelet? The jade, so pure and ­clear—­like Amah’s voice waking her in the morning. And the cool, strong ­stone—­like Amah’s hand steadying her across the ice. Could she really let these… these beasts have it? Her hand tightened around the bracelet and its perfect circle pressed back into her fingers as if resisting. Amah would want me to, Pinmei thought. She closed her eyes and released the bracelet.

  The couple clutched it together, pushing each other away to examine it closer. Pinmei turned away. She knelt beside Haiyi, reached into her sleeve, and gave the scarred servant her handkerchief to wipe the spilled soup from her face. Yishan and Lady Meng quickly joined them.

  “Pinmei, you…” Yishan said to her with admiration. “You were really great.”

  “Was I?” Pinmei said faintly, and she found that she was trembling. “I didn’t think.… I just wanted to make them stop.”

  “I’m sorry you gave away your bracelet,” Lady Meng said, looking in distaste at the masters of the House of Wu. They were inspecting the bracelet at the window, the man biting into it to test the stone.

  “You’re a brave girl,” Haiyi said, lifting her face from the cloth. “Much braver than…”

  The other three gasped. Haiyi stopped at the sound and saw they were staring at her.

  “Your… your face!” Pinmei breathed. “Your scars are gone!”

  It was true. The raised white scars had disappeared. Instead, the woman’s face was as smooth as the inside of a seashell.

  “My scars?” Haiyi said, and her fingers stroked the even skin on her face in disbelief. She opened her other hand and, from Pinmei’s handkerchief, hundreds of rice grains fell onto the floor like a sudden rain shower.

  But it wasn’t Pinmei’s handkerchief! Pinmei cried out in astonishment. It was the Paper of Answers!

  CHAPTER

  43

  Pinmei had given Haiyi the Paper of Answers by mistake! And it had wiped away her scars! How could that be possible? But it ­was—­the skin of Haiyi’s face was even and unblemished, and a puddle of uncooked rice lay at her feet.

  “What is going on over there?” said one of the hideous masters of the House of Wu, alerted by Pinmei’s yelp. His beady eyes glittered and the woman raised her head as if smelling a feast. “What are you doing?”

  They scampered over, leaping over furniture in their eagerness, but stopped abruptly when they saw their servant.

  “Y-your scars…” the man stuttered. “How did you…”

  “You wiped them away!” the woman shrieked. “It must be that cloth! Give it to me!”

  Before the other could even shout, they fell upon their servant, snatching the Paper from her hands. Without hesitating, they began to rub their faces vigorously, each after the other.

  But when they raised their hands to touch their skin, their scars had not disappeared. Instead, their faces were puckering and shriveling, their fur collars almost swallowing their heads. No, it wasn’t their collars! The man and woman were sprouting fur! Their faces, arms, and legs were covered with dark brown hair the color of rotting wood. And it wasn’t just their ­faces—­their whole bodies were shrinking too! They grew smaller and smaller until their fine silk capes and robes and hairpins fell on the stone floor and covered them. Four dark hands reached out and pushed the silks open, and two small furry heads thrust out. The others cried in shock.

  The masters of the House of Wu had turned into monkeys!

  The two monkeys glowered, their eyes full of fury. ­Pinmei could only gape, her mouth a round circle, her head dizzy with astonishment.

  Haiyi stood and grabbed the broom. “Shoo! Shoo!” she said. Yishan opened the door and Haiyi swept at the monkeys. “Out!” she scolded. “Out!”

  The monkeys chattered angrily, spitting and clawing, but their former servant was persistent, pushing and shoving with the broom until both monkeys were out the door. Finally, the monkeys scampered into the ­snow-­covered courtyard and over the wall, sputtering outraged noises.

  Pinmei continued to stare at them, sinewy black shadows against the snow. Before they disappeared behind the wall, one turned and shook its fist at them, a brilliant green flashing from its hairy arm. Yishan slammed the door.

  “Monkeys are always such a nuisance,” he said, shaking his head.

  CHAPTER

  44

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Haiyi said with a broad smile. Now that her scars were gone, Pinmei could see her wide, pleasant face, dimpled with laughter. The woman swept away the broken bowl with a flourish, almost dancing with the broom. Still smiling, she looked at the others. “And what are your plans now, my friends?”

  “First, we have to get out of the city,” Yishan said. “How far are we from the Outer City gate?”

  “Oh, very close!” the woman said, pausing in her sweeping to pick up the Paper from the floor. She handed it to Pinmei with another smile. “The emperor left this morning, while you slept. The emperor has left orders to have you killed if you are found, of course, but when he heard you were children, he didn’t feel he needed to waste any more time or men on you. I’m sure we could sneak you o
ut easily now.”

  “After we leave the city, I am going to the Vast Wall to find my husband,” Lady Meng said.

  Haiyi stopped sweeping and looked at Lady Meng, her eyes full of sympathy and dismay. She opened her mouth to say something, but Lady Meng’s head rose defiantly. She looked out the window, her figure shrouded in a gauze curtain of cold white light. Haiyi closed her mouth and looked at the children. “And you two?” she said finally. “Surely you will not be going to the Vast Wall as well?”

  Pinmei shook her head, but neither she nor Yishan gave any other answer. The dragon’s pearl was not the Luminous Stone. Amah was not here. They had come to the City of Bright Moonlight for nothing. What were they going to do now? As Haiyi swept, the pieces of the broken bowl clinked together and made a hollow sound.

  “You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish,” Haiyi said. She lifted a large pot of soup onto the stove and looked at her reflection. “I was never a beauty,” she said, touching her face, “but now I would not trade with the goddess Nuwa.”

  “That’s good, because you’d have to have a fish tail,” Yishan said almost absently as he gazed at Lady Meng, “which would better if you were in the sea instead ­of—”

  “Yishan!” Pinmei said, sitting up. “Do you remember what the emperor said to the king about the stone? How the king would understand if he went to Sea Bottom?”

  “Yes,” Yishan said, turning toward her. “I don’t remember everything, but I do remember that. So?”

  “I think,” Pinmei said, “the emperor was saying that the Luminous Stone is at Sea Bottom.”

  Yishan stared at her, a grin growing on his face.

 

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