The Crystal Ribbon

by Celeste Lim

  I had to blink a few times, hard. It wouldn’t do at all to have Yunli see me upset. I turned to her. “Da Jie, please…may I have the rest of the pages back?”

  But Yunli only straightened up and pretended to consider. “Oh, I don’t know…” Then she bent over so she was eye level with me. “Tell you what, Huli Jing; how about I let you read one page whenever you make me especially happy? That’ll only be…” She counted the remaining papers in her hand. “Seven times. Not too many, isn’t it?”

  And at that moment, I wished so badly to set an entire pack of huli jing on her.

  I clutched the yellow amulet Lian had made for me that I always tucked under my waistband. Other than Wei’s letter, Mama’s bangle, and Baba’s flute, it was the only other thing that reminded me that someone still cared. My fingers traced the embroidery of peonies and chrysanthemums.

  I had to get that letter back.

  Only when Jun’an’s plump little hand touched my cheeks did I realize they were wet.

  “Why crying, Jing? Don’t cry…I’ll be a good boy; no more crying, please?” he pleaded.

  The angelic face of my little husband made me smile. It was already sundown, and they had just finished dinner. I hadn’t noticed Jun’an coming to sit beside me on the open landing until just now.

  I rubbed at my cheeks so hard they felt sore. It’s no use crying, silly Jing, it will only upset Jun’an. Somehow, I’d get my letter back. I had all the time in the world. Yunli wouldn’t get rid of the letter as long as she knew it gave her power over me.

  “I’m not sad, young master,” I said. When he didn’t look convinced, Lian’s amulet gave me an idea. “Would you like to hear another story about the Great Golden Huli Jing?”

  Jun’an’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes, Jing! Please, please!”

  I tried to think of one he had never heard before. “All right. Have I ever told you about the time the Great Golden Huli Jing defeated a horrible man-eating tree jing called the Renmian Tree?”

  Jun’an gasped like the excellent listener he was. “What is a Renmian Tree like?”

  “My mama once told me that this evil jing can uproot itself whenever it pleases and travel to remote villages, where the Renmian Tree would slowly feed on the souls of people who eat its beautiful fruits…”

  Jun’an looked positively horrified, and I was beginning to wonder whether I had picked the wrong story to tell when he said, “Huli Jing will save the day!” And then he seemed to remember something. “Jing, why do Da Jie and Er Jie call you Huli Jing?”

  I huffed. “Not just your sisters; even the kids from my village used to call me that.”

  “But why?”

  “Well, because…” I crossed my arms. “Because they’re jealous,” I said, nodding. “Because my name, Li Jing, sounds like the name of the Great Golden Huli Jing, and they’re jealous because this means that one day, I’m destined to become as great as the Golden Huli Jing and they’re going to be nobodies.”

  “Ooh…,” said Jun’an, and he sounded so genuinely envious and full of awe that I almost blushed.

  I was never considered a weakling, even back in Huanan. However, here within the Guo household, my standing was entirely different. Outward defiance or impertinence would earn me more than a mere beating, but that didn’t mean they had frightened me into total meekness. After Yunli confiscated my letter, I itched to pull a prank or two to get mine back. I wanted justice served. I wanted her to appease my anger. And my chance came two days later while I was straightening out their bedroom.

  I came across Yunli’s favorite lip tints on her makeup dresser—a few pieces of paper colored on both sides. I picked them up carefully, marveling at the exquisite shades.

  Yunli liked using soft pastel colors, which brought out the fairness of her complexion, and these appeared to be the best hues this season—a pale peach color, a faint red that reminded me of Jun’an’s cheeks, and another a beautiful shade of the pink peony that blooms in summer. Yunli must be saving these for autumn because they were still brand-new and unused.

  That was when a ingenious idea came to me. I opened Yunli’s jar of makeup liquid, which was essentially just water mixed in with moisturizing extracts of almond and cucumber. Although I had only ever used makeup on the day of my wedding, I remembered how it was done. I sat down in front of the bronze mirror on Yunli’s desk and carefully wet my mouth with the liquid. Then I took the peony-colored paper, positioned it between my lips, and pursed them. When the moistened surface came into contact with the paper, the tint came off and stayed on my lips in a perfect shape.

  I looked into the mirror with satisfaction and sat there for a moment. I didn’t look bad at all—the color made me look sweet, feminine, and even a little alluring. But looking pretty wasn’t on the agenda today. I made a pig face at the mirror, then wiped the tint off with the back of my hand. A sour taste spread across my tongue when some of it got inside my mouth. I ignored the distasteful tang and carefully repeated the same process a few more times on each of those colored papers, careful not to get any more of it in my mouth. And then, for the final step, I walked over to Yunmin’s dresser and stashed the used papers in one of her drawers.

  That evening, my sides were almost splitting open with stitches from trying not to laugh as the sisters fought and argued over the makeup. They even managed to go a whole week without talking to each other. And during that time, although both were in especially bad moods, they gave me a lot less trouble on the whole.

  My first chance to retrieve the next page of Wei’s letter came just a few days later. I was feeding Mr. Guo’s pet nightingale in the garden, whistling and talking to him as I slipped him seeds and slices of fruits through the teak bars of his cage.

  “Twittery tweet tweet! ” the bird warbled. Koko was a singing nightingale, one of Mr. Guo’s prized possessions, for he had won many singing competitions at the marketplace. I often played Baba’s dizi for him, and the clever bird had picked up a number of songs and would sometimes even save his best ones just to get an additional treat.

  “There you go,” I cooed as the bird pecked at the tiny slice of pear in my hand. Then he fluffed up his unattractive brown feathers and trilled at the top of his voice.

  “Jing jing! Jiiiiiiing—”

  I almost dropped the fruit. Had Koko just said my name? Could nightingales actually talk like parrots or mynahs did?

  “Oh, Koko, you clever, clever bird! Say it again.” I held out a slice of persimmon, close enough for Koko to see it, but not reach. He hopped closer, tilting his little head to one side and giving a small chirp, regarding me as if to say, “Why don’t you try moving that little treat closer?”

  “Such an intelligent look you have, Koko.” I couldn’t help admiring his unblinking black eyes. “Say ‘Jing’ again and you can have this. Go on.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  I gasped and turned around to find Yunli and Yunmin standing behind me. “I heard Koko say my name and was trying to get him to do it again.”

  The sisters looked at each other, and then Yunli burst into laughter, immediately followed by Yunmin. “My dear, ignorant, uneducated sister-in-law,” Yunli said. She took out her folding fan and opened it, idly fanning herself. “Nightingales can’t do anything but sing.”

  I shook my head. “But Koko can speak, really. He can say my name. He just did.” Yunli rolled her eyes and started fanning herself rapidly, as though wondering why she was wasting time arguing with a melon head. Yunmin, however, had more to say.

  “Well, if you’re so sure, prove it! Make it say your name again.”

  I looked down at the oblivious little creature in his cage. Koko was hopping around on his perch, expecting another piece of fruit. I picked up a persimmon slice and dangled it just out of his reach. “Smart Koko, say ‘Jing jing’?”

  But this time, the little creature only tilted his head to one side and gazed at us with his beady eyes, blinking once, then twice, but never opening his beak. M
y heart sank.

  “See? We knew you were just fibbing!” said Yunmin.

  “Unless the bird’s a jing, no one,” said Yunli as she paused for dramatic effect, “can ever teach a nightingale to speak…Nightingales are not parrots. They. Don’t. Speak.”

  I knew what I’d heard. I didn’t need their little lesson. I sat down and continued to feed Koko. But somehow, I must’ve touched a nerve, because part of Yunli’s face literally twitched, horribly distorting her features before she flew into a fine rage.

  “How dare you give me that attitude? Do you think you know more than me? You can’t even write your own name, Huli Jing! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” And with that, she reached out a hand and smacked the cage aside, upsetting it completely. It fell off the stone bench and crashed to the ground.

  Stunned, all of us froze for hardly more than a blink, but that was all the time it took for Koko to notice the broken cage and fly out. I screamed and lurched forward, trying to catch him. But the bird soared just barely out of reach, and instead of catching him, I tripped and fell forward onto the ground, knocking all the wind from my chest.

  “Koko, nooo! Come back!” I wailed after the nightingale, but the little bird twittered a joyful tune, circled above us once, twice, and then flew out of sight.

  “Oh no…” Yunmin moaned, covering her face. “Baba will kill us!”

  But instead of falling into despair like her sister, Yunli simpered. “No, he will not,” she said as she approached me and held up two fingers.

  “Two pages,” she said. “If you take the blame for this.”

  I was beaten with a cane for losing Koko.

  Mr. Guo rarely lost his temper, but whenever he did, no one wanted to be on the receiving end.

  “How—dare—you—lose—my—bird? You stupid, careless, incompetent little idiot!” the man bellowed, and with every word, the bamboo cane rained on my arms, legs, back—anywhere that could be hit, for in his blinding rage, Mr. Guo did not seem to care which part of me he struck at all.

  “Master, please…! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! Please, stop!” I screamed, holding my arms up to shield my face and jumping to avoid the cane.

  But Mr. Guo did not look like he wanted to stop until he had completely appeased his anger, and my punishment continued until Jun’an lunged forward and hugged his father’s legs. The cane froze in midair.

  “Baba, stop! Please don’t hurt Jing anymore, please!” Jun’an sobbed through the tears and gooey mucus on his face. “No more caning, please!”

  Mr. Guo cast the stick upon the floor. “She will not get any food tonight!” he barked at his wife. Immediately, my little hero stumbled over and hugged me, crying as though he were the one who had been hurt. But his mother promptly removed him.

  Still hiccuping, and despite the stinging pain all over my body, I crawled into a kneeling position and kowtowed.

  “Thank you, Master! Thank you, Mistress! Thank you, Master…” And with every thanks, my head made a loud thud as it came into contact with the floor.

  Only stopping after the grown-ups had left the room, I lifted my head to see Yunli walking up to me. “Well, at least you have this.” Smiling to herself, she dropped two folded pieces of paper in front of me, and immediately, my tears made two droplets of stains on the parchment.

  Later that same evening, in the light of the flickering oil lamp in my room, I applied the healing balm Auntie San had given me on the angry red welts on my arms, legs, and anywhere else I couldn’t see but hurt. I was not unfamiliar with the bamboo cane, because even Baba used it when we misbehaved. But it was different to be punished for something you did not do, and with every bit of pain that stung me, I yearned for Yunli to feel what I was going through in her place.

  This pain belonged to her. These wounds belonged to her. And these tears should’ve been coming out of her eyes. I flung the healing balm across the room. I hated her! I slapped the stone wall until my palms throbbed, redder than the welts on my arms. I didn’t stop. I imagined Yunli’s face as I continued to abuse the wall.

  I wailed and wore myself out. And what had I achieved?

  Enough crying, Jing! What about Wei’s letter?

  Yes, Wei’s letter. Hadn’t I been dying to read the next pages for such a long time?

  I reached into my waistband and pulled out two pieces of rice paper, somewhat crinkled around the edges. I smoothed them out and gazed at the drawing on the first page. It showed a boy, beaming and carrying a toddler on his back as he walked through a meadow of daisies. I did not miss a single detail, not even the tiny drop of sweat drawn over the boy’s forehead. A dull sort of feeling crept across my chest, as though someone was using a soy grinder on my heart…

  Jie, guess what? Now I’m in charge of caring for Pan. I try to do everything you did, so I carry him everywhere I go, just like you used to. And we would often go to the daisy field. Remember? You used to bring us there all the time. Though it’s not an easy job, babysitting Pan makes me think of you, just like how you often thought of Mama when you were responsible for Pan.

  The next page showed the faces of a man, a boy, and a toddler, and although they were smiling, there was a tear beneath each of their eyes. An image over their heads showed a girl in a nice hanfu, happily laughing, with a little boy and two adults behind her.

  Baba, Pan, and I miss you very, very much…we think about you every day. But we know that you must be happy and living a comfortable life with your new family. And whenever we think of that, we feel happy for you, because we love you very much.

  I choked trying to hold back screams and sobs. I tore at my blanket and my sheets. I kicked at the stone walls around me until my heels felt sorer than my wounds.

  How? How could they even begin to comprehend the kind of life they had sold me into? I hated them! Hated them for acting as though they still cared after showing that they didn’t, for how could a father care for a daughter whom he would sell for five miserable silvers?

  Even more, I hated myself for still missing them.

  I tried hugging myself, but my nails ended up digging into my skin. I muffled my cries with a rug, because even in such grief, I could not afford to be heard. The pain felt like a relief, somehow. And that night, I dreamed of returning home, riding on the back of the Great Golden Huli Jing. I saw Wei, and in my dream, Zhuzhu had grown into a toddler as beautiful as Jun’an, and the three of us were back in the daisy field, climbing trees and chasing one another. And at the edge of the field stood my baba, with a smile on his face brighter even than the sun in the sky.

  I awoke in tears the next day, my chest heaving as though I had been up running all night. If I no longer belonged to Baba and his family, why did I have to miss them so much?

  Thankfully, not all my attempts at retrieving Wei’s letter were painful.

  One chilly fall day when the sisters had just returned from classes, I had been heading to the scullery carrying a basin of warm water when I heard them coming down the corridor. Out of survival instincts, I ducked behind the doors to the living hall before they could see me.

  “Ugh, that Lin Ran makes me want to tear out all her hair!”

  Yunli did not sound as though she was in one of her best moods—all the more reason to keep out of sight. As usual, Yunmin echoed immediately.

  “Yes, I never liked her. Such a show-off in front of Shifu.”

  Shifu was a respectful address form for a teacher, so they must be talking about another girl in class.

  “ ‘Shifu’ this and ‘Shifu’ that,” Yunli mocked in an annoying higher octave. “What I can’t stand is that stupid look on her face whenever Shifu praises her calligraphy and poetry.”

  “Yes, she’s so full of herself…”

  “But she’s not going to be for long.” Yunli suddenly sounded excited. “Come, I’ll show you something really interesting!”

  I shifted on my feet. When were they going to leave? I peeked through a crack. No…Yunli was pulling her sister in
to the hall. Now I was stuck. Tian, ah, why couldn’t they just go to their room? Now I’d have to wait in hiding…and this would’ve been easier if I wasn’t carrying a basin full of water.

  “Look what I got!” Yunli pulled out from her sleeve a rectangular bar as black as soot, no bigger than the palm of her hand. It was an ink stick—solidified ink made from soot and glue that one ground against an inkstone with a little water to produce calligraphy ink, and this one had intricate carvings of lotus flowers on it.

  Nonplussed, Yunmin’s eyebrows knitted together. “But it’s just an ink stick.”

  “Not just any ink stick; smell it!” Yunli thrust it under Yunmin’s nose, and she obediently took a deep whiff.

  Her tiny eyes lit up. “It’s scented!”

  “With sandalwood,” Yunli finished for her in a triumphant tone. “The exact same kind that Miss Show-Off uses in class and that she boasted about last moon.”

  “Yes, I remember her saying that her father had brought it home from the imperial city of Dongjing. She even said you wouldn’t find it anywhere in our province! How in Guan Yin’s name did you manage to come by it?”

  “Well, it is true that you can’t get it anywhere here.” Yunli nodded. “But your brilliant sister had already planned this a while back. With a little extra money, I ordered it sent specially from Dongjing to our local store.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to bring it to school!” Yunmin squealed as she held the precious ink stick in her hands. “And to see the look on Miss Show-Off’s face when she finds out she’s no longer the only girl in class with special scented ink!”

  But Yunli gave an impatient snort. “We’re not going to use it in class, stupid! Sometimes I don’t understand how I came to have such a dumb sister.”