The Emperor's Riddle

by Kat Zhang

  Mia shrugged. “Not really. Is Jake home?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Your brother really loves basketball, doesn’t he?”

  “Even more than he likes soccer.”

  “What sort of things do you like to do?” he asked her. “Do you play any sports? Your mother used to love running track.”

  Lizbeth was the sporty one of Mia’s trio of friends. Thea rode horses and wanted to compete more now that she was older, but Lizbeth was the one who’d played soccer since she was old enough to kick a ball and was, as even Jake admitted, a fiend on the softball pitch.

  When Mia played sports in PE, she found her thoughts drifting halfway through games. Besides, what point was there in trying when Jake was already better? He’d claimed the ball field as his territory before Mia had ever had a chance.

  She shrugged. “Sometimes I play.”

  She’d already started turning away when she got an idea.

  “Riddles,” she said. “I like solving riddles.”

  “What sorts of riddles?”

  “All kinds. I’m working on one now.” She hesitated. “Do you want to help me?”

  Her uncle set his newspaper aside and smiled. “Of course.” He tapped the side of his head. “As much help as this old brain can give you, anyway. What’s this riddle?”

  Mia closed her eyes and let the first riddle float to the top of her memory. After so many rereads, it wasn’t hard. Then she realized that she had memorized the riddle in English. Awkwardly, she translated it back into Chinese.

  “ ‘Two brothers stand, eye to eye, the fairer steady on the turtle’s back. Search for me low, on the heads of the darker brother’s feet, carved into a cheek like a scar.’ ”

  She looked at her uncle anxiously when she was done, hoping he wouldn’t laugh at her or her shaky transla­tion. “The answer is supposed to be a place around here, I think.”

  “Hmm.” He tilted his head and fiddled with his horn-rimmed reading glasses. “Two brothers? It sounds like it’s talking about statues of some kind.”

  Mia nodded. “And one of them is standing on a turtle’s back. Do you know any statues like that?”

  His forehead wrinkled. “I’m afraid not.”

  Mia tried to hide her disappointment, but she’d never been very good at concealing her emotions. They slipped out in the downward quirk of her mouth, in the pull of her brows and the flicker in her eyes.

  “Hey, hey,” her uncle said. “We’ve only just begun. You can’t lose hope so quickly. Let’s break this riddle apart. Where should we begin?”

  “The turtle,” Mia said. “That’s the weirdest part.”

  “A brother on a turtle’s back,” her uncle mused.

  “The darker brother.”

  “Yes, the—” A spark lit in her uncle’s eyes. “Wait. What if the riddle isn’t talking about people, or statues, but about buildings? Go fetch those brochures I gave you.”

  Mia ran to get them. When she came back, her uncle splayed them out on the coffee table and shuffled through them. He jabbed his finger at a photograph of a gleaming white tower. “There it is! The White Pagoda.”

  Mia frowned, trying to piece things together. “So?”

  “So,” her uncle said, pushing the brochure toward her, “read what it says in there. Does it tell you where the White Pagoda is located? I’m afraid my English isn’t very good.”

  Mia sped through the brochure until she found her answer. “It’s on a mountain,” she said slowly, translating aloud as she read, “called Yushan, which, from a distance, looks like—” She looked up, meeting her uncle’s twinkling eyes. “Looks like a giant turtle.”

  “I think we’ve solved half your riddle,” he said.

  “But how can a pagoda have a brother?”

  “A darker brother,” her uncle reminded her, inflecting the word just as she had. He flipped to the last page in the White Pagoda’s brochure. There, a small paragraph encouraged tourists to visit Wushi Mountain, as well, where—

  Mia was grinning before she got to the last word. “They’re twin pagodas,” she said. “The white one on Yushan, and the black one.”

  Her uncle winked. “And so you have your answer. Well, almost. What do you think of the last part of the riddle? The bit about searching for ‘me’ low, and something carved into a cheek like a scar?”

  “Oh,” Mia said, stumbling on her reply, “I don’t think that bit’s important. It’s just— I might have translated it wrong.”

  “I see.” He obviously didn’t believe her, and Mia flushed, but he didn’t press. He just laughed and said, “Are you going to be running off again, Mia?”

  Mia flushed even deeper.

  Her uncle turned hesitant too. He worked his next words around in his mouth a little before speaking them. “Do you want me to come with you to Wushi Mountain? It’s been a long time since I’ve been there, but I could still show you around, if you wanted.”

  “I—” Mia said. “I think I’m going to go with Jake.”

  For a second, he looked so disappointed that Mia wished she could take her answer back. Except, how could she properly look for the clue with her uncle around? Helping her solve the riddle was one thing. If he came with her to Wushi Mountain and watched her search for the missing pattern, he’d have to realize that something bigger was going on.

  “But only next time your mom’s distracted? What are you two up to, Mia?”

  “Nothing.” Mia hurried to her feet, the White Pagoda brochure folded up in her hands. She flashed her uncle what she hoped was a breezy smile. “Nothing at all.”

  16

  THE WORK CATASTROPHE, WHATEVER IT was, must have kept Mia’s mother up all night, because she didn’t get out of bed the next day until nearly noon. Even then, she seemed only half awake. She’d gotten invited to an early dinner with another group of friends, but she seemed less excited about it this time.

  “To be honest,” Mia heard her say to her uncle, “I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep during a toast.”

  But five o’clock found her gamely in front of her vanity mirror, slipping in her earrings. Mia sat cross-legged on the bed behind her.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” her mom asked. “It could be fun. It’s supposed to be a really nice restaurant.”

  Mia shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ll just stay home.”

  Her mom gave Mia’s reflection a small, tired smile. “All right.”

  They hadn’t spoken, not really, since they’d argued at the mall, and for just a moment Mia almost changed her mind—almost said, Actually, I do want to go—take me with you.

  If her mom had asked again, she might have. But she didn’t, and so Mia just watched her leave.

  She waited five, ten, fifteen minutes. Long enough to be sure that her mom’s ride had whisked her away. Then she, too, pulled on her shoes and hurried down the stairs.

  She didn’t actually have any plans of staying home.

  Not when there was a clue to collect.

  * * *

  Mia heard the thumping of Jake’s basketball game even before she’d shut the apartment complex’s heavy outer door. There came the satisfying noise of a ball whooshing through nothing but net and the whoops of the scoring team. Mia fiddled with the strap of her messenger bag.

  Jake would want to come with her for this, wouldn’t he? They’d started this expedition together, and it only seemed right to continue it together.

  Her feet brought her to the edge of the basketball court. The game had paused to give the teams time to plan their next play—or maybe to just crack jokes and pound each other on the back, which was what they seemed to be doing. Jake fit in as well as he fit in anywhere—­which was to say, perfectly.

  Mia imagined herself clinking open the door in the tall, chain-link fence. Imagined herself walking step by
ponderous step to the middle of the court, waiting awkwardly for Jake or one of the other boys to stop laughing long enough to notice her. Then what? She’d have to ask Jake to stop in the middle of his game to come to Wushi Mountain with her.

  She rolled the question around in her head and couldn’t come up with a way to arrange the words so they didn’t make her sound like a child. Like a little kid who still needed her big brother to take her places.

  Her pride bristled.

  She turned on her heel and headed, alone, for the bus stop.

  But she couldn’t help hoping that Jake might notice her after all. She couldn’t help her ears straining—even after the game started up again and everything was drowned out by the thump of the basketball, the squeak of sneakers against pavement—for Jake calling out her name.

  Like their mother, he never did.

  Never mind, Mia told herself firmly. She’d always known she was different from Jake, and different from their mother. She’d always known they didn’t understand the things that were important to her—not the way Aunt Lin did. She didn’t need them to.

  Until she rescued Aunt Lin, she’d be fine on her own.

  * * *

  As Mia climbed aboard the bus to the Black Pagoda, she half expected the driver to ask her where she was going or if she was really traveling alone. Adults were always telling her she looked young for her age, and it wasn’t uncommon for store clerks or library workers to worry that Mia had gotten separated from her parents.

  Luckily, the bus driver only glanced at her before turning back to the road. Maybe he didn’t think it strange that a little girl would travel by herself. Or maybe he thought she was attached to the lady who boarded before her, or was traveling with the man who boarded behind.

  Either way, Mia encountered no trouble as she made her way to the back of the bus. There was an empty seat beside a sniffly young woman wearing a face mask. Mia took it when it became obvious that no one else was interested. It was hard to feel excited, the way she had during the bus rides to Gushan or to the Sanfang ­Qixiang district. Mostly, she just felt alone.

  Wushi Mountain—or at least the foot of it, where the Black Pagoda stood—wasn’t full of trees and natural scenery the way Gushan had been. In fact, it didn’t look much different from the rest of the city. And the Black Pagoda, Mia discovered as she peered out the bus window, was far taller than the Pottery Pagodas. It shot up above the lower buildings around it, seven grand stories of dark gray granite crowned by a black roof and a spiraling pinnacle.

  The long summer days meant that the evening sun still glinted off the surrounding skyscrapers, but the Black Pagoda soaked in the yellow light like a cold-blooded snake. There was something distinctly scalelike about the black ridges on its roofs. It gave the impression of an enormous, slumbering dragon wrapped around the tower, its head tucked out of sight.

  It was a quiet evening. Mia found herself one of only a few people milling about the tower’s base. She waited for a young couple to wander off, holding hands, before pulling her copy of Zhu Yunwen’s map from her messenger bag.

  She went over the riddle again in her head, just to make sure she had everything straight:

  Two brothers stand, eye to eye

  The fairer steady on the turtle’s back

  Search for me low, on the heads of the darker brother’s feet,

  Carved into a cheek like a scar.

  “Darker brother’s feet” had turned out to be metaphoric. But what about “cheek”? Mia stepped past the opening in the little stone fence ringing the tower’s base. There were stone figures carved at each corner of the pagoda. Each stood almost as tall as she did, their faces serene, their hands clasped around sheathed swords—or maybe they were scepters. The worn stone made it hard to tell.

  Mia ran her fingers over the warm, rough stone. Then she frowned. There was something off about the stone relief—something not quite right about its head. She propped herself up on tiptoe to reach its face, feeling the difference in the stone.

  Effort had been made to make things blend in, but the stone composing the figure’s head seemed a little smoother. A little newer.

  “You noticed too?” a voice called out.

  The couple was back, hovering just beyond the stone fence. The man smiled at her. He was the one who’d spoken.

  Mia blinked at him.

  “The heads,” the man said. His left hand was entangled with that of the woman next to him, but he waved his right one at the stone-relief statues. “They used to all be broken off, but the city recently repaired them. They say they look the way they used to now, but who knows? I think they’re a little off.”

  “Hush,” his girlfriend said, fond and chiding. “She didn’t ask for a history lesson.”

  “Maybe she likes history,” the man protested, laughing. But he turned from Mia as he spoke, and the two of them wandered away, lost in each other, before Mia could say yes, yes she did—couldn’t he tell her more?

  Alone now, she circled the base of the tower. Each of the figures had the same offness about their heads and faces. Had they really been broken off, once upon a time, like the man said?

  “Carved into a cheek like a scar,” the riddle said. What if the restorers hadn’t made the heads exactly as they’d been before and the clue was gone? Mia’s fingers tightened around her messenger bag, twisting the strap in her hands. It seemed heavier than it had just moments ago. Everything seemed heavier—her chest, her feet, the hot, humid air.

  The horizon ignited red and yellow with sunset. Mia had set out later than she should have, and now she didn’t have enough time to properly study the pagoda before night fell. She didn’t know how late the buses ran. What if she missed the last one? She didn’t have enough money for a taxi.

  She backed away from the tower, torn. If she left without the clue, who knew when she’d be able to return?

  But she didn’t like the idea of wandering about the city at night, alone and without even a cell phone.

  So she made one last trip around the tower, searching desperately for any sign of Zhu Yunwen’s clue.

  Then, heavyhearted, she headed back to the bus stop.

  17

  LUCKILY, THE BUSES WERE STILL running. Mia’s jolt of relief didn’t last long, though. By the time she got off at the stop near the apartment, her mood was as gloomy as the murky twilight. She walked with her eyes on the pavement and hardly noticed the other ­people sharing the sidewalk until one nearly ran into her.

  “Mia!” he said. Mia looked up.

  It was her uncle. They stood outside a small restaurant, both of them bathed in yellow lamplight and the sizzling smell of day-old oil.

  “I was getting worried,” her uncle said. He wasn’t angry, as her mother would have been, or gently chiding, as Aunt Lin would have been. Mostly, he sounded relieved.

  “I’m sorry.” Mia scuffed her shoe against the pavement, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke or moved. “Is my mom home?”

  “Not yet,” he said.

  Another moment passed, this one interrupted only when they shuffled aside to let someone exit the res­taurant.

  “Well,” Mia’s uncle said finally, “you caught me on my way to the store. Want to come with me, if you aren’t tired?”

  Mia nodded, and they fell into step together. The streets were lively even after sundown, people taking advantage of the cooler temperatures. They strolled toward the river, which stretched dark and mysterious into the distance, lit only in glinting patches by the city lights.

  “Did you enjoy your trip to the Black Pagoda?” he asked.

  There was no point in pretending that that wasn’t where she’d run off to.

  “I guess.”

  That was all she’d planned to say, but her uncle glanced down at her and seemed to expect more. A few days ago, she might have stayed quiet anywa
y. But he had helped her solve the riddle in the first place, so maybe she owed him a little more. Besides, it felt nice to have someone to talk to.

  “There was something I wanted to see that was destroyed—at the bottom of the pagoda,” she added when he raised his eyebrow. She gestured with her hands. “There are those stone figures, right? But a lot of them had their heads smashed off.”

  “Ah,” he said. “I do remember that, actually. Aren’t they renovating them now, though? Most of them should be repaired.”

  “I wanted to see the originals,” Mia said, and he laughed.

  “You sound just like your aunt.”

  Mia smiled, too. It was something she could imagine Aunt Lin saying. Her aunt had loved visiting ­museums and historic sites. Can you imagine? she’d say, her feet planted in the aisle of an ancient church. Think of all the things that have happened here. All the other people who came here before us. She understood when things weren’t exactly the way they used to be—sometimes old things needed to be restored or repaired. But nothing made her eyes light up like something that had survived the centuries intact and untouched.

  “Do you know how the statues got damaged?” Mia said.

  “You know, I think I remember someone telling me that it happened during the Cultural Revolution. I don’t know the details. A lot of things were destroyed back then—especially historic places.”

  “Why?”

  The Chinese Cultural Revolution shaded the background of Aunt Lin’s stories about her childhood. She mentioned it when talking about the books that had been banned, or the patriotic songs they’d learned in school, or the ration tickets she’d needed to buy necessities like food or cloth. It was the reason she’d gone to do farm work in the countryside—where she’d met Ying and found Zhu Yunwen’s well.

  But despite all the bits and pieces Mia had heard about the Cultural Revolution, she’d never truly understood it. It wasn’t like the history that was taught in school, summarized into reading chapters and monthly quizzes. It seemed bigger. Messier.