The Crystal Ribbon

by Celeste Lim

  Wei dashed up the last few steps to reach the gong, and I called out, “Only once, Wei.”

  He turned to look at me, his left brow twitching a little. “Why? You love doing it yourself.”

  Now what could I do to deter him? I slid my shoulders back a little more so I looked taller. “I’m not doing it anymore. I don’t want Shenpopo to come at me with her walking stick. I heard from Lu Shang when he’d stolen peaches from the shrine that it hurts really bad…”

  Wei gulped and sullenly rang the gong just once. It produced a deep, reverberating chime. Great Golden Huli Jing, here we come.

  We stepped into the front yard where the stone well stood in the center. Wei and I reached into the bucket beside the well and tossed prayer coins into it. When mine made a little splash, I brought my hands together. I probably should have wished to never be married, considering our family’s unpleasant conversation earlier, but all I remembered was:

  I wish I had a prettier name that no one could make fun of.

  Then we headed into the shrine after the grown-ups, kicking off our fabric shoes before stepping onto the veranda. I followed the crowd toward the right side of the entrance hall, where the offerings were left so that Yue Shenpo could bless them later. I placed my box of tea leaves next to our family’s offerings. The air was thick with the rich smell of sandalwood from the incense that was burning.

  On the lacquered altar, behind rows of red candles and positioned between two giant sticks of incense thicker than my arm, was the statue of the Great Golden Huli Jing. It reached all the way up to the ceiling and looked old. Baba said that was because it was made of bronze, but that wasn’t the most peculiar thing about it. The statue had the head of a fox, set on the shoulders of a man clad in warrior’s armor, with five fox tails behind it. The sculptor must’ve been drunk while working on our statue, because it looked nothing like how Baba described the guardian, who looked like an actual fox, but stood as tall as a farming horse, with a snowy-white chest, a coat of brilliant golden fur, piercing emerald-green eyes, and five majestic white-tipped tails that fanned out behind it like a halo.

  Yue Shenpo was sitting at her desk next to the altar with a thick fortune-telling manual. People formed a line to have their fortunes told—something the grown-ups seemed to love. Wei and I never understood enough to care for that, but Yue Shenpo was a very important person in the village, second only to the chief. Baba said she was like a mix of priestess, healer, exorcist, and fortune-teller. But in her black shaman robe with her hair pulled into a dull gray bun, she looked more like a mix of cider, pickles, soy sauce, and sun-dried prunes.

  Someone behind Yue Shenpo waved at me, and when I stood on my toes, I saw Lian. She had been standing next to the doorway that led to the back of the shrine, handing out amulets. I turned to Wei.

  “Stay in line for the prayer mats.” I ignored his protest and darted over to Lian. She looked lovely today in a red apprentice hanfu dress, with her hair in two little buns on either side of her head.

  “You have to come down to the village this evening,” I said. Yi Lian was only twelve but had no family, so she had been taken in by Yue Shenpo and raised as her apprentice. I grabbed her hand that had several colorful amulets dangling from it. “Lu Shang says we’re having a tree-climbing match later. You have to come watch me beat that son of a hopping zombie,” I said. But Lian lowered her gaze.

  “The shrine is really busy today, I don’t know if Shenpopo will let me…,” she murmured.

  Lian fidgeted with the amulets. She really wanted to come. And why shouldn’t she if she managed to finish her chores? “I’ll help you. Come, let’s ask Shenpopo.” I pulled her over to where Yue Shenpo was waiting for the next villager.

  “Shenpopo, nin hao.” I bowed and greeted in my sweetest I-need-something-from-a-grown-up voice.

  Yue Shenpo looked up from her manual and gave us one of those smiles that always reached her gray eyes. “Ni hao, dear child. Have you presented your offerings?”

  I beamed. “I brought tea leaves that I dried myself.”

  It was nice to see Yue Shenpo nodding with approval.

  “That is very good indeed. The Great Golden Huli Jing will grant your family a bountiful harvest this year,” she promised, then opened up her thick manual and motioned for me to sit down. “Come.”

  I fidgeted with the green sash around my waist. Yue Shenpo was looking at me very closely. Could she really tell my future just by looking? If it was that easy, I could probably tell hers.

  When she reached out and swept aside the hair over my forehead, I knew she was looking for the little red mole that nestled right in between my eyebrows. “A divine symbol of purity, this little thing,” she said as her finger brushed over it. “But for you, Jing, it is a bringer of change.”

  Of course, the most obvious question to ask was, What kind of change? but before I could, Yue Shenpo had found the page she was looking for in her manual. She spun it around to face me. “You’ve never had your fortune told, so let’s start with the basics. Which character belongs to you?”

  I scanned the whole list of words that were all supposed to read jing. I had never been to school and might not recognize most of the characters, but I knew which one belonged to me. I found it near the bottom of the second column and pointed at the one that meant crystal.

  Yue Shenpo peered closely at the inscriptions under my name. “You were aptly named, child. And you should know that a good name holds great power and often carries with it its owner’s destiny.”

  Grrr. I had had about enough of grown-ups telling me to like my name.

  As though she’d read my mind, Yue Shenpo smiled. “Lian often complains about how they tease you. But I can say this: It wasn’t by chance that you were named thus.” She took my hand and patted it. “Fate is yuan, and yuan is fate. It is like a ribbon that binds things together. And you, child, happen to share a lot of yuan with our guardian huli jing. This ribbon of Yuan that binds you together suggests an intertwined destiny.”

  “What kind of destiny, Shenpopo?” It was difficult to imagine that my fate could be in any way bound to something I had never even seen, but Shenpopo seemed determined to be what most grown-ups loved to be—overly mysterious.

  “We shall know as life unfolds,” she said as she turned the pages of her manual. “But you can be assured that because of yuan, the guardian will watch over you closely. And I believe you are going to need it, because it seems you have a rare calling.” Yue Shenpo stopped at a particular page, and continued. “A calling that will lead you to many places, and bring good to those around you…anyone but yourself.”

  What kind of calling was that? It didn’t sound nice at all. Would it be rude to tell a shamaness that you didn’t quite appreciate the fortune she told?

  Probably reading my thoughts again, Shenpopo said, “I know this sounds horrid, but dear child, no matter what happens in our lives, if we seek the home where our spirit belongs, we will always find refuge. And it’s no use asking me where you’ll find it, because not only is it different for everyone, it is one of those things you will have to figure out for yourself.”

  I didn’t quite know what else to say other than the obvious “Thank you, Shenpopo.” So this was why only grown-ups consulted the oracle—it was simply too difficult to understand! But now that this was over and done with…

  “Shenpopo, I was wondering whether you could allow Lian to come play this evening. I know the shrine is busy, but if I stayed and helped Lian finish her chores before sunset, could she please come?”

  Shenpopo waved her hand dismissively for the next villager in line. “I can handle a few dozen visitors without my apprentice. Just place the amulets in the basket by the main entrance and run along with Jing after she’s done with prayers,” she said to Lian, then added, “Be home before dark.”

  As we went back to the doorway, Lian’s face brightened so much I could almost see drops of sunshine squeezing out of her eyes. “Thank you, Jing!”
she said.

  “I want you to come as much as you do,” I said. When I turned to go, Lian tugged on my sleeve.

  She held up the little fabric amulet bags in her hands. “Here, take an amulet for blessing,” she said, then added with a wink, “Or two, since it’s your birthday. But don’t tell Shenpopo.”

  I picked out one of the red ones with pink plum blossoms embroidered on it. “What’s this one for?” My guess would be love or something.

  “That one’s for romance and marriage,” said Lian, making a face. “You don’t want that. There are also amulets for health, studies, wealth, and protection,” she said, holding up the other colors.

  Marriage, hmm…I stroked my chin. Only boys went to school, so getting the amulet for studying was silly. I took one of the bright yellow amulets with Chinese gold ingots embroidered on it. “I’ll take the one for wealth,” I said, then stuck out my tongue as I took a red one as well. “And a red one, only because it’s my favorite color.”

  “Liar!” Lian laughed as I ran back to where Wei was.

  I stuffed the amulets under my waistband. I didn’t care if I got teased; maybe this amulet could protect me from having to get married before I was ready. When it was our turn to pray, I lit my incense and kneeled on one of the moth-eaten cushions in front of the altar. I held up my three incenses—one for the body, one for the mind, and one for the spirit.

  I closed my eyes.

  Great Golden Huli Jing, I am sorry for the way I have been disrespectful toward you before today. I will continue to bring my own offerings to you from now on, and will try not to hate my name if you make Lu Shang stop teasing me about it. I suggest visiting him during the night and giving him a good scare. And if we really do share a lot of yuan, please let me stay with my family forever. And help Wei and me win the tree-climbing match later. The prize is a big, fat, juicy peach.

  Ai, ma! What did I just see? I rubbed my eyes and looked again. The statue couldn’t have grinned, could it?

  Wei was still praying. I scrabbled onto my tiptoes. The statue had a long snout and a mouth that pulled all the way back. But there were no teeth, and never had been. So had I imagined that big toothy grin a moment ago?

  Shenpopo said that like most jing in general, the fox jing was an elusive creature. Since its glorious deed thirty years ago, the Great Golden Huli Jing had only shown itself again once when the village was attacked by a pack of wolf jing during the Ghost Festival fifteen years back. So, like most of the other kids, I had never seen our guardian in the flesh.

  But now I had! Or at least a hint of it. Maybe what Shenpopo said was true; perhaps the ribbon of Yuan did connect us. Wait till I told everyone! But would they believe me? Wei might, if I could make the statue move again. Perhaps if I concentrated hard enough…

  I gazed so intensely at the statue I must’ve looked as though I was glaring at it. Didn’t work. Was there something I wasn’t doing right? But before I could try anything else, Wei tugged on my sleeve.

  “Jie! What’re you doing? Tree. Match. Peach. Now!” he cried and dashed out of the shrine with me and Lian after him. Mr. Huli Jing would have to wait for another day.

  I never did get a chance to solve my little mystery of the grinning statue. Compared to things like the Lunar New Year, harvest season, and Wei’s birthday, it wasn’t very high on my priority list, yuan or no yuan. And so, spring came and went, bringing with it fair amounts of rainfall, and when the time for harvest came, Aunt Mei returned from town one fine day with the most exciting news I had ever heard from her.

  “I’ll be heading up to Xiawan early tomorrow.”

  “Xiawan?” Grandmama murmured, fanning off the afternoon heat with her straw fan. “It’s that big city beyond the next mountain. It’s a good place.” She nodded approvingly.

  “Yes,” said Aunt Mei, then jabbed her chin in my direction. “Jing could come along with me if she’d like to.”

  I almost dropped Pan. Oh, would I love to! I wouldn’t give this up for the emperor. “Yes!” must’ve been written all over my face, because Aunt Mei said, “You’ll like it; it’s a lot bigger than Baihe town at the foot of the hill.”

  At this, Wei jumped up. “I want to go, too! Please, Aunt Mei?”

  “Certainly not. You have school, and you are not about to miss classes for something like this,” Aunt Mei scolded.

  “Well…can’t we all go during the weekend?” I asked, keeping my voice tiny so Aunt Mei wouldn’t think I was challenging her. I’d love for Wei to join us, but I didn’t want to jeopardize my own chances of going.

  “Ai tian!” Aunt Mei threw her hands up in the air. “This isn’t a vacation, child. We’ll be running errands for your baba, and that cannot wait,” she said, giving Baba a nudge. “Isn’t that right?”

  Baba gave a tiny nod, but when Aunt Mei nudged him again, he said, “Be good, and listen to your aunt.” He did not look at me when he said this, but at that time, I only vaguely wondered why.

  It was hardly past the hour of the ox when Aunt Mei shook me awake. The sun wouldn’t even rise for ages. But today was special, and the earlier it started the better! I hopped out of the bed I shared with Wei, who was still snoring underneath the goatskin rugs.

  I clawed at the itchy spots on my back that came from sleeping on a straw bed, then threw on a white linen robe. The autumn breeze attacked me as soon as I stepped out into the darkness. I wrapped my braid around my neck like a scarf and sprinted for the nearest public well. Unlike the nice prayer well at the shrine, this was just a hole in the ground built up with a couple of wooden beams. The flat wooden surface next to the well was where people showered and did their laundry, and a drain led the water out to the farmlands.

  I grabbed one of the buckets on the side and lowered it into the well. When I emptied half its content over my head, I braced myself.

  “Ai, ma!” I gasped. The water felt like a sheet of ice daggers. And my bathrobe now stuck to me like a second layer of skin. I scrubbed myself with a rag and as much haste as I could before emptying the rest of the bucket onto myself.

  When I arrived back in our hut, Aunt Mei already had a fire going in the stone hearth and was making congee.

  “Zao an, Aunt Mei,” I greeted her before darting into my room.

  “Put on your hanfu,” Aunt Mei said. “We’re getting a new one for you this year, so we’ll need your measurements.”

  Did Aunt Mei really say new hanfu? I bundled up my robe and squealed into it. Hanfu were fancy, semiformal clothing that men and women wore during major festivals, and the ones sold in bigger towns were expensive. The only one I had was one Grandmama had made me for my eighth birthday. It had a white, cross-lapelled top and a pale orange full skirt with motifs of pink and purple peonies above a white underlayer. The skirt had a yaoqun that went around the waist like a thick band and was secured in place with a pale green sash.

  It’d be nice to do a simple little faji to match my dress, so I grabbed a couple of ribbons and began to braid the topmost portion of my hair. It occurred to me as I brushed the rest that eleven was beginning to feel like an age of breakthroughs—tea-drying for the first time, my first offering to the guardian, visiting a new city, getting a new hanfu…new adventure, new experiences!

  I had no idea then how true my thoughts were to become.

  Aunt Mei and I set out downhill for Baihe town before sunrise. We spent almost an entire day on a horse carriage that went straight to Xiawan. By the time our vehicle passed through the towering stone-carved gates of the city, my behind already felt like it could use a trip to the acupuncturist. I couldn’t bear to sit on it a moment longer. Besides, there was too much to see out the window. Xiawan was so huge and vibrant. Baihe town, where our family sold our produce every weekend, wasn’t even half the size of this one.

  “Aunt Mei, look! There’s a man doing kung fu on the streets.”

  I shifted onto my knees in my seat and turned to look behind our carriage as we passed a crowd gathered around a bur
ly, half-naked man who was flourishing a Chinese broadsword. “Look at that huge weapon he’s wielding! Aren’t yamen officials the only ones who are allowed to carry swords and spears? Isn’t it illegal?”

  Aunt Mei gave my already sore behind a sharp slap. “Sit down, child!” she scolded. “You make yourself out to be silly and unrefined when you prattle on like that. Sit properly. It is very rude to climb up on your seat.”

  I sulked and slid back down into my seat. My behind didn’t need any more abusing. But I still kept my eyes peeled. Wei would love to hear stories when we returned home.

  Unlike Huanan, most of the buildings in Xiawan were big, grand, and at least two levels high. The main street was paved neatly with stones all the same size, and instead of stalls of food flanking it, there were rows of restaurants with people flooding in and out of them like waves. There was an open theater farther down the road, where it seemed like hundreds of people were watching a zaju performed by actors with the most bizarre face paintings.

  People covered the streets like ants on an anthill. I had fun trying to tell the different classes of people apart through their outfits. There were those who dressed in plain robes with unattractive braids and buns, much like the people in our village, but I imagined the people in thick, colorful hanfu with the most elaborate headgears and hairstyles to be from rich and distinguished families. We even saw yamen officials who worked for the local magistrate patrolling the streets in their red-and-black uniforms, their handsome swords hanging from their waistbands.

  As our driver hollered out for pedestrians to make way, the cart trundled past an enormous temple that honored the local guardian jing of Xiawan. If I could read, I’d be able to tell from the bloodred sign over the entrance arch what kind of jing the city worshipped. Would it be something stronger than the Great Golden Huli Jing of Huanan? Unlike our cozy village shrine, this temple was entirely whitewashed, and at least ten times bigger, so most likely Xiawan had a more powerful jing…but I didn’t like the idea of any other jing being stronger than our guardian.