The Crystal Ribbon

by Celeste Lim

  I rolled my eyes and wondered the same thing. When Yunmin fell silent, Yunli went on, a smug look on her face. “On the contrary, we must never let anyone know we have it, because we’re going to use this to write something nasty to Shifu.”

  “But why would you want to…ohhhhhhh…”

  I rolled my eyes again.

  Yunli sighed loudly. “Yes, dumb duck, we’re going to get Miss Show-Off into so much trouble with Shifu that he’s going to give her a million lines to write!”

  “Oh, what a sweet, sweet idea!” Yunmin clapped her hands.

  “I know. Now go get my inkstone, calligraphy brush, and grab some Xuan paper from father’s study. And if you see Huli Jing, tell her to come here.”

  I gulped. Mama, Guan Yin, Huli Jing, don’t let me be discovered.

  Yunli paced the room idly, humming and occasionally mumbling something to herself. Then Yunmin returned, half panting from her errand.

  “I didn’t see Huli Jing anywhere,” she reported.

  “Never mind, that can wait. In the meantime, I’ve come up with the absolute perfect thing.” She promptly sat down at the round marble table.

  Yunmin poured a small amount of water onto the inkstone and started to grind the ink stick against its surface. As the ink stick came into contact with the water, it began to dissolve into watery black ink that smelled richly of sandalwood.

  Yunli dipped her calligraphy brush into it, smoothed it a few times over the stone to get the bristles into shape, and began to write. A few moments later, with a last confident stroke, Yunli held up her finished work. “There! A masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Her handwriting is so tidy it’s easy to imitate; Shifu won’t be able to tell the difference!”

  I squinted harder.

  “Chuang qian ming yue guang…” Yunmin slowly read the words out loud. “Shi fu tou geng guang! Oh, Yunli, it’s perfect! Shifu will be so mad when he sees this!”

  I hadn’t known then, but the lines were actually a play on the first stanza of a poem called “Thoughts on a Still Night” by Li Bai of the Tang dynasty, and what Yunli had written roughly translated into “Before my bed the bright moon shines, but brighter still Shifu’s bald head shines!” I didn’t recognize the words on the paper, but from the picture and what Yunmin had read aloud, the note sounded nasty.

  I shifted the basin in my hands. It was getting so heavy…when were they going to leave? My elbow nudged against the door and it gave a creak so loud I almost bit my tongue.

  “Huli Jing, is that you?”

  Wonderful.

  I stepped out sheepishly from my hiding place, and Yunmin grabbed the lapels of my hanfu. “What do you think you were doing behind there, you little eavesdropper?”

  “Oh, step aside, Yunmin. That’s no way to treat our reliable messenger,” Yunli interrupted with a smile.

  I swallowed. I’d have much rather been abused by Yunmin.

  Yunli took the basin from me and thrust it into her sister’s hands. She then flourished her artwork in front of me. “How would you like to earn the next page of your brother’s letter by helping me deliver this?”

  I nodded without looking at her. It wasn’t a difficult decision, especially if it involved Wei’s letter, but I’d be helping them get some poor girl in trouble.

  It’s not your place to worry about her, I kept telling myself later as I hurried through the town square with the horrid note in hand.

  It had rained only a while ago, but there were just as many people on the streets. The air was misty and still smelled of rain, and the uneven dirt roads were dotted with yellow puddles. On any day, I would’ve enjoyed a leisurely walk in weather like this, stopping by to watch the zaju performers, jing tamers, and even buy myself a tang hulu from the candy stalls while I ran errands.

  I steadied my breathing. All I had to do was leave the note at the door and not get caught. And then I’d get to read Wei’s letter…

  I bumped into a dirty beggar, stumbled a step back, and bumped into a kid. I regained my balance and mumbled an apology to no one in particular.

  “It’s all right.”

  Wei?

  I whirled around and only managed to catch the boy’s back disappearing into the crowd. “Wei?” I tried to follow, but which way did he go?

  “It can’t be him, fool,” I muttered. How could it?

  I shook my head and continued toward the east side of town. The little private academy wasn’t difficult to find, nor was it very far, and I was able to inconspicuously slip the note into the center crack of the entrance doors and dart off before anyone saw me.

  I never knew for certain whether that poor girl was punished for the nasty prank she did not pull, but since Yunli did not come home particularly happy the next day, I assumed she probably hadn’t been, which was quite a relief on my conscience. But although her little trick might not have gotten her the results she wanted, Yunli did at least go by her promise and give me the next page of Wei’s letter.

  This page showed a boy working hard on a piece of horseshoe, and daydreaming, with a smile on his face, of a big vibrant city.

  Jie, this winter, I begged Baba to bring me along to work at the blacksmith’s. I have not forgotten our promise. I will find a useful trade I can learn so that someday I can become an apprentice and earn enough to travel to Xiawan.

  One day, Jie, I will see you again. Wait for me.

  I sighed. My heart felt so full. “Yes, Wei. One day,” I whispered as I carefully folded up the letter and hugged it to my chest. Perhaps my little encounter with an “imaginary” Wei that morning was a sign that we really would meet again someday.

  The Lunar New Year fell in midwinter that year. It was one of the biggest annual celebrations on the lunar calendar, and I used to think it was the best part of every year, better even than my own birthday. For one thing, no one had to work. And for another, there were food, games, fire flowers, and loud crackers that were supposed to scare evil jing away. All the children got to wear their best hanfu and play all day. Celebrations went on for fourteen days. But that wasn’t even the best part.

  The best part was the hongbao.

  During Lunar New Year, adults gave out little red envelopes called hongbao to children. And they contained not sweets, not toys, but money. Maybe just a small copper piece or two at most, but collecting about thirty of those around the village could buy a comfy new pair of shoes.

  Yes, I used to look forward to each new year, but probably never again.

  Several days before the celebration, all the servants in the household were worked to the point of death—lots of shopping and cooking on top of cleaning and decorating. Mrs. Guo made me set up the thanksgiving altar each day for the jing and deities that might bring luck and prosperity to the family.

  The idea of family reunion was the highlight of the festival. Therefore, relatives from immediate and extended families would come over for a reunion dinner on the night of New Year’s Eve and stay for a few days. As the number of people in the house grew from six, to ten, to twenty, I got busier and busier. Both Auntie San and Liu had already gone back to their homes for the celebration, so I had even more to do than usual.

  I did not get to play with any of the children who visited. I was not offered any of the delicious food or snacks. I did not get to watch the lion dance or the beautiful fire flowers. I did not even receive a hongbao.

  All day long, I cooked, served, replenished the incense on the altars, and waited on the guests. And while the other children had darting vessel matches, played with bamboo horses, and even flew paper birds in the garden, I stood among the mahjong tables and chatting adults in the living hall, waiting to refill empty cups with more oolong tea.

  Jun’an was one of the very few who paid me any proper attention, and would beg me again and again to join them.

  “It’s really fun.” He would hold my hand and beseech me with his huge eyes. “The big kids are letting you play. We’re starting a bamboo-horse race. I told them how
good you are at it!”

  Oh, how I wanted to go. Back in Huanan, I used to be so good on a bamboo horse they called me the “Bamboo Knight.” I could have easily won.

  I pressed my lips together and ruffled Jun’an’s hair. “It does look really fun, but I can’t right now. I’m busy, but I promise once I’ve finished I’ll come play, all right?” And that would satisfy him.

  Yunli, as usual, was the center of everyone’s attention. Clad in an exquisite red hanfu underneath a sheer layer of shimmering white chiffon with embroideries of cranes and lotus blossoms, she could have easily been mistaken for a deity who had descended from the heavens.

  “My word, look at your daughter, Mrs. Guo!”

  “Why, I do believe that Yunli has managed to grow even more beautiful than last year, don’t you think?”

  “If only I had a daughter half as pretty as yours, Mrs. Guo.”

  “And Yunmin, too, of course…,” said Mrs. Chen without actually looking at the subject of her sentence. “You must be so proud of them.”

  I tried not to laugh. Of course, people usually managed to slip in a polite compliment or two for the less attractive daughter, but all the same, Yunli continued to bask in the glory of everyone’s attention. However, I noticed there was actually one person’s she especially desired.

  Among the numerous family relatives was a cousin named Chen Han. He was a year or two older than Yunli and a charming young man—tall, dashing, and friendly. Now I would have been perfectly honest if I were to claim that I had never seen Yunli treat anyone with anything that resembled niceness, but I was about to be surprised that year.

  Yunli did not pour herself all over him. She was too proud for that, but she allowed him to talk to her without cutting in with snide remarks. And in his presence—I wouldn’t have believed this had I not seen it with my own eyes—Yunli’s smile even lost its nasty edge and dissolved into something gentler and more radiant.

  Could this be what they called love? It was hard to keep a straight face remembering it. If this was what a simple crush could do to her, I couldn’t wait to see Yunli fall head over heels. But I would never wish Yunli on someone as nice as Chen Han, because he was the only person other than Jun’an who did not treat me like a common servant. One time, he even saved a tang hulu for me.

  “Here, have this,” he said, holding out a stick of sugar-coated hawthorn berries.

  I almost forgot to breathe as I held the candy in my hand. Because right then, I saw again the village square of Huanan. Saw myself and Wei giggling and darting through the crowds, each with a tang hulu in hand. The haw-centered ones had always been our favorite, and just remembering its sweetness left a nasty, sour taste in my mouth. I swallowed.

  Someone tapped my shoulder. “You might want to start on that sometime soon.” Chen Han was grinning, and he patted the space next to where he was sitting on one of the stone benches in the garden. I sat.

  “You’ve grown taller, haven’t you now?” he said, estimating a length of about two inches with his thumb and index finger. “At least this much since I saw you last year.”

  I stopped working on my tang hulu and smiled my first big smile that year. My mouth was sticky from the melted sugar that coated the sun-dried hawthorn berries. To be honest, I hadn’t noticed exactly how much I had grown, but I liked being told that I had.

  “And if I’m not mistaken, you’re getting prettier, too. Let me have a look.” And Chen Han motioned for me to stand in front of him. I hopped off the bench, still sucking on my candy. At his instruction, I turned around a couple of times as he pretended to consider me. “Hmm, why yes, maybe even prettier than Yunli, I reckon.”

  I laughed out loud. Thank all the Buddhas in heaven and hell that Yunli wasn’t anywhere near to hear that. “I could never be as pretty as Da Jie,” I said, finishing the last of my tang hulu. I resumed my seat on the bench, dangling my legs over the edge.

  Chen Han rubbed my head. “In some ways, I believe you already are.”

  However, I soon learned that, with all the unwitting attention Chen Han was giving me, he had as good as dropped a boulder down a well that I had already been drowning in.

  If how Yunli had been treating me up till now could be considered nasty, the kind of treatment I received after Lunar New Year would definitely border on vicious. The first thing she did was to threaten me with Wei’s letter. Until then, I had managed to earn five pages, and in the last one, I learned that Pan had been taken very ill with a high fever. I had begged Yunli to return the remaining pages then, but she only hitched on that hateful smirk of hers.

  “I’m sorry about the cliff-hanger, Huli Jing. I hate those, too. But just try harder; I’m sure you’ll get to the end of the story someday.”

  But now she had threatened to burn the letter.

  I turned in my bed. Might she have burned it already? I turned again and buried my face in the quilt so I wouldn’t cry.

  There was no other way. I had to get it back before she destroyed it. Otherwise I should never be at peace.

  It must have been long past midnight, because the gong for the hour of the rat had rung a good while ago. There was no better time to act. I slipped out into the dark and crept slowly along the now-familiar corridors toward the eastern wing, avoiding by touch and memory the planks that creaked or groaned.

  I pushed open the sisters’ bedroom door and stepped over the threshold. I could see quite well from just the moonlight that seeped in through the paper screens of the paneled windows.

  The room was big. The two four-poster beds were built into the walls on one side near the windows, both concealed by a thin veil of gauze hanging from the wooden bed frames. The darker part of the room was where all the drawers and closets were.

  I folded my sleeves and slid Mama’s bangle halfway up my forearm so I wouldn’t accidentally knock anything over. My hands shook as I rummaged through the furniture, making only as much noise as I half dared and replacing everything exactly where it had been. But the letter was nowhere to be found. I wiped off the cold sweat on my neck.

  Think, Jing. If you were an evil sister-in-law, where would you hide someone’s letter?

  There was only one place left. My feet dragged like an elderly person’s as I moved closer to where the sisters were sleeping. There were empty spaces right underneath the wooden bed frames. Perhaps…

  I slunk over to Yunli’s bed and got down on my knees. At that point, I was so close that I could make out her silhouette through the veil and even hear her slow breathing. Hardly daring to breathe myself, I reached far into the space under the bed and slowly felt around for a box or some other object. But alas, there was none. Where else, then?

  Just as I withdrew my hand, someone grabbed a handful of my hair.

  I screamed and looked up.

  Glaring at me in the moonlight, with her long hair in disarray from sleep, Yunli resembled a bloodthirsty, flesh-hungry, demonic jing.

  “Looking for this?” She dangled Wei’s letter in front of me. I knew then that she had already anticipated my attempt.

  Yunmin lit an oil lamp and hobbled over, yawning. “What’s all this noise in the middle of the night, Da Jie…?”

  “I found a naughty little girl snooping in our room. Looking for something she’ll never find.” On Yunli’s face was the same smile she had the first time we met. “You’re a very bad girl for trying to outsmart me, so this is punishment to remind you that it never pays to cross your Da Jie, all right?”

  And with that, she thrust the letter into the lamp fire.

  It caught instantly.

  “Da Jie, no!” I shrieked, but the letter had already gone up in a ball of flames. It burned out even before its ashes reached the ground. My letter. I fell so heavily on my knees that they went numb.

  Wei…I had failed him. I glared up at Yunli, but she suddenly drew her hand back and slapped me across the face.

  “Thief! How dare you come in here to steal!”

  Before anything e
lse could happen, she dragged me, sobbing, out of the room toward the master chamber.

  By the time Yunli had woken the entire household, I knew I had never been in more trouble in my entire life. Mrs. Guo was in a foul mood from being woken up in the middle of the night. I had never seen her in such a state. Underneath all that makeup, the skin on her face was yellowish and saggy. Permanent dark circles framed her crusted, bloodshot eyes. Her breath smelled like rotten eggs marinated in horse pee, and with her hair in such a matted mess, she looked even more like a demon than Yunli had.

  “Stealing?” she rasped. I was on my knees with my head lowered in the deepest kowtow. I could explain. I really could. But I wasn’t allowed to speak until spoken to.

  “Yes, Mama. Yunmin and I caught the little thief going through our jewelry in the middle of the night,” said Yunli.

  I screamed as my hair was jerked back. Mrs. Guo leaned in close. “I don’t know or care why you did it, but I will not tolerate stealing in my house. Especially not from a tongyang xi, do you hear?”

  “P-P-Please, Mistress…Truly and honestly, Jing did not steal any—”

  “Mama, she is lying! We found this on her.” Yunli held out a golden brooch.

  Mrs. Guo’s small eyes narrowed into slits. When she let go of my hair, I fell to the floor and curled into a ball. “Still unrepentant, are we? Then this might serve as a good warning for any more funny ideas in the future. Bring the zanzhi!”

  I had no idea what a zanzhi was, but from the look of extreme delight on Yunli’s face, it seemed like something I should be terrified of. Yunmin brought in a peculiar instrument…and I wondered how much it was going to hurt. It was a good thing I didn’t know then.

  The zanzhi was a row of ten wooden rods approximately six inches in length, all vertically strung together. Mrs. Guo grabbed my hands and rammed each of my eight fingers in between two rods.

  The pain was instantaneous.

  As the ropes that connected the rods were pulled away from the center, the instrument squeezed with immeasurable force, compressing my fingers. I screamed so sharply my throat might have torn apart. I began to squirm and struggle—anything. Anything to ease this pain. This unbearable pain.