by Jeannie Lin
“I’m going to be taking a trip tomorrow,” I told my brother once the kitchen was tidied.
“Where to?”
“Changsha with Merchant Hu. Now time for bed.”
Tian didn’t move. “Why Changsha?”
“This is an adult matter.”
That meant that there would be no more discussion. He was still my little brother, and with Mother—with Mother the way she was lately, I was the head of the household.
An eight-year-old boy shouldn’t need to worry about the price of rice and eggs. When I was a child in the capital city, clothing had appeared like magic. I was never afraid that the dinner table would be empty.
Tian closed his notebook and rubbed his thumb over the spine in disappointment. He was growing old before his time, watching and listening to all around him. This village was too small for him.
My brother belonged in the academies of Peking, studying mathematics and the sciences. He should be groomed for the engineering exams once he reached manhood. It was in his blood, but it wasn’t possible. Not here.
“To bed, Tian.”
My voice cracked. My brother didn’t seem to notice, or at least pretended not to. Good boy. He brushed the back of his knuckles over his bruised cheek, tucked his books and writing case close to his side, then headed out toward the room that he shared with Nan. I watched him disappear into the house while I breathed the evening air in deep and let the coolness of it sting against my skin.
Sometimes, through the mist in the autumn or while my eyes were closed at night, or even while they were open and staring at the herbal cabinets in Lo’s shop, I could almost see the gilded buildings of Peking; the sprawl of the city with its towering pagodas and sparkling ponds. Once more, I walked through the hallways of the Ministry of Science as I’d done as a child. I could smell the sharp, chemical perfume of the laboratories.
I needed to wake up. Wake up. Even though I knew I was no longer sleeping.
Beyond the walls of our humble home were the tiny shops and homes of our farming village. Thatched rooftops, dull wooden hovels. Narrow streets of packed dirt and straw.
The house was quiet now, which meant Mother wouldn’t stir for several hours. Maybe when she woke again, I could get her to eat something.
With the oil lamp in hand, I went to the storeroom beside the kitchen. The space was kept desolately clean with the bins and jars mostly empty. Even mice sought better prospects. The basket in the corner held a layer of rice that was no more than a finger deep. The entire province was feeling the aftermath of a poor growing season.
The wooden panel at the back of the storeroom creaked as I pried it open. I wedged my arm through the opening and rummaged around until my fingers wrapped around a solid object.
Over the last years, we had gradually sold and bartered away our family treasures except for the few trinkets kept hidden here. I pulled out a bundle wrapped in green silk.
Brushing away the dust, I untied the cloth. The light from the lamp flickered across the polished steel inside. Even after all this time, it remained untarnished.
A puzzle box, my father had called it. The cube was the size of a large grapefruit and appeared to be made of several panels all welded perfectly together.
I rotated it in my hands, running my fingertips over the surface. On first glance, the sides appeared uniform, but as I turned it, the light reflected off to reveal a geometric pattern of shaded squares and diamonds. Yet the metal was smooth to the touch and seamless to the eye. Only the right combination would open it.
I tightened my grip and the honed edges cut into my palms. When the Emperor had stripped my father of his title, all of his inventions and records were seized and destroyed. His name was removed from the records of the imperial exams.
The imperial guard had come to our house after Father’s arrest and ransacked his personal study. The metal puzzle box had always been kept upon his shelf, but on that day, it wasn’t there. I found it later, forgotten in a trunk of clothing that had been hastily packed.
All I had left of Father was this trinket. I found the secret panel and slid it forward, activating the mechanism inside. With a whir of gears, the box shifted and opened only to reveal another closed compartment. A puzzle within a puzzle. I had loved this box so much when Father had first shown it to me.
“It’s very valuable,” Father had warned, putting it up high so I couldn’t snatch it up in my little hands whenever curiosity struck.
The memory faded, leaving only the threat of tears. I pinched two fingers to the bridge of my nose until the stinging in my eyes went away. Enough. There was nothing else to be done about it.
What good were such memories anyway?
I had decided what needed to be done earlier that day when Old Man Lo had counted out my earnings. He wasn’t stingy. On the contrary, he had given me more than my share.
Physician Lo was a generous man who operated on the old tradition by which his patients only paid him when they were well. Thus he always had a stake in bringing his patients back to good health.
Payment only sometimes came in the form of copper cash. Often he would be paid with a cup of rice or a quantity of salt or eggs. Whatever the villagers had to spare. Lately food was scarce and, as could be expected when the elements were unbalanced, sickness was common. For the last month, every coin Lo sent my way had been charity and I knew it.
I had gone to the provincial capital of Changsha several times before. Usually when we needed to sell something that we had brought with us from Peking. There was no market for finery in Linhua.
Someone in Changsha had to be willing to pay something for Father’s box this time around. It was the only thing we had left of any value.
USA Today bestselling author Jeannie Lin grew up fascinated with stories of Western epic fantasy, Eastern martial arts adventures, and romance novels. Formerly a high school teacher, Jeannie is now known for writing groundbreaking, award-winning historical romances set in Tang Dynasty China, including her Golden Heart award-winning debut, Butterfly Swords, The Dragon and the Pearl, My Fair Concubine, and The Lotus Palace, as well as the Gunpowder Chronicles, which began with Gunpowder Alchemy.
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