The Crystal Ribbon

by Celeste Lim

  I cried out as my little friend was knocked almost twenty feet away, and at the same time, the grip around my ankle loosened. I fell to the ground, landing heavily on the side of my head and right shoulder.

  My vision blurred, and I could only just make out Kaizhen far away, running toward me, yelling. The Renmian Tree looked as though it was about to lift its roots and grind me into mush.

  My head spun. I couldn’t move. I was going to die.

  Then there was a raging, thunderous howl. I squinted, and thought I saw, in a blinding burst of emerald flames, Kaizhen transforming into a gigantic five-tailed fox, bright golden as the sun. He dashed across the hill and pounced upon the thrashing tree.

  “Huli jing!” someone wailed as though the end of the world was near.

  Was it my huli jing? I squinted harder and my head throbbed even more in protest.

  Perhaps I was already dead, and it had come to take me away.

  Dimly, I could make out the jing, wrestling fiercely with each other; the tree lashed out at the fox, its burning branches swiping. Was the fox hurt? I had to save it. I wanted to help, but my head spun every time I moved a muscle.

  Then the fox leaped back and breathed a jet of green fire at the tree.

  The tree went up in dancing emerald flames, the smoke from its inferno rising high up into the sky. The fox was coming toward me. It was looking at me with its green eyes. Was this our Great Golden Huli Jing? It picked me up. My head spun from the pain in my shoulder, but I didn’t even have the strength to moan.

  I lay on its back. The fur was warm, soft and prickly at the same time. We were flying. I saw clouds around us and felt the wind in my face.

  Was I dead?

  Maybe. Maybe he was taking me home, to where my spirit belonged. When I woke up, I would be with Mama.

  I smiled and slept.

  I stirred to the oddly familiar sound of a rooster’s crow. I was in a room.

  A small wooden room. With no windows.

  Why did the mistress lock me up? What did I do wrong again?

  I sat bolt upright. No. I was already free from the Guos, free from the chinglou—I ran away. I was on my way home with Koko and Kaizhen. And then there was the village that had been cursed by the evil tree jing. Was I still in Daolin? What had happened to the tree?

  Wait. There was a fox, wasn’t there? I fell, and a fox saved me.

  My right shoulder throbbed from a large purple bruise where I had fallen. My head still hurt, too. But I needed to find out if everyone was all right. The moment I threw off my cape, I realized I had been sleeping on a bed.

  A straw bed.

  And not just any straw bed. It was mine—my own bed that I used to share with Wei.

  Somehow, I was home.

  My head spun even more. And I had to lie back down. How exactly did I get here? Surely I’d dreamed the part where the fox took me away? Where were Koko and Kaizhen? I pushed myself back up, and my hand touched something smooth and cold on the bed. I looked down.

  Glossy, cold, and black as the night.

  It was my mother’s jade bangle—the one that was taken from me, the one I thought I had lost forever. But instead of answering questions, the little jewelry raised even more.

  I ran out from the house and looked up into the sky. From how high the sun was, I knew it was around midday. There was no one in the house, so I pulled on my goatskin boots. As it was in Daolin, winter was a resting period for families in Huanan who farmed for a living, and mine usually went around the village and even down to Baihe town for odd jobs. Most of the time, Baba worked at a blacksmith’s forge, where he would also fix his farming tools, while the rest of us stayed home, taking up needlework and weaving, pickling food for sale, and caring for the livestock.

  Where should I go first? To find Baba? Or my little brothers?

  I pulled on my cloak and rounded the bend that led to the backyard. And then I saw Grandmama, cleaning out the coops, with a child I didn’t know, a child about Jun’an’s age when we first met…

  I opened my mouth, but only air came out. For so long I had dreamed of coming home, of seeing my beloved family again. And on countless nights, I had imagined what I would say if I ever saw them again. Where were all those words now? Lost in my wheezes. Lost in my tears. Just, lost.

  I walked closer.

  The boy heard me, perhaps, and turned around. His eyes opened as wide as copper coins. “Holy Huli Jing! Grandmama, is that Jie?”

  “Jing!” Grandmama gasped.

  Pan ran over and almost tackled me to the ground. He remembered.

  He remembered me.

  He remembered his jiejie.

  With a sob, I hugged him back. Oh, how much my little Zhuzhu had grown. He was turning four soon, so different from how he had looked in my arms as a baby.

  Grandmama ambled over with her walking stick. I exhaled when I saw the smile on her face. She was happy to see me after all.

  Pan prattled on and on. “Finally you came home! I missed you, Jie! How long are you staying?”

  A pair of warm hands landed on my shoulders. “Help me into the house, child,” said Grandmama as she took my arm.

  “Can I go get Baba? Please, please?” Pan pleaded and ran off after Grandmama nodded her consent.

  Grandmama sat in her wicker chair as I made her a cup of steaming rice tea. I wiped at my wet eyes. I missed doing this, missed the way she smiled as she sipped the fragrant tea, and also her approving nod whenever I got the temperature just right. Grandmama had lost even more hair. Her wrists looked thinner, and her hands shook a little as she brought the rim of the cup to her shriveled lips. If it had been the old Jing, she would not have noticed such things. All she’d be doing was waiting impatiently for Grandmama to finish her tea and wondering why it always took her so long. But now, I could stand here forever, watching her enjoy the tea I’d made.

  Grandmama looked up and seemed to study me closely, squinting. “Dear child, how you’ve grown,” she murmured, as though to herself. Then she reached out her coarse hands and took mine. “How has the Guo family been treating you?”

  Something welled up in my chest and got stuck in my throat. Was it time to confess everything? To tell my family all that had happened? That I had, in fact, run away? But I was saved from having to answer my own question, and Grandmama’s, when Baba’s and Pan’s hasty footsteps reached our front door. I turned to see my baba, panting from the run and sweating profusely despite the bitter frost.

  “Tian, ah! Son,” Grandmama exclaimed. “Running like that in this weather? Anyone would’ve thought you haven’t seen Jing in a hundred years. Be sensible and do get dry—”

  But before Grandmama could finish, Baba, completely ignoring the nagging, had reached over and pulled me into a firm embrace. He did not have to say anything, for at that moment, I began to cry. And I couldn’t stop.

  “Baba…Baba…”

  How could I have believed that Baba was a selfish man? That he had felt good giving me up for those five silver pieces? Look at the way he ran all the way home from work; look at how Baba was hugging me now. Was this the behavior of a man who did not love his daughter?

  My tears soaked through my father’s sleeves as I bawled to my heart’s content. I cried, and screamed, and cried. But Baba kept his arms around me, hugging me tighter and tighter. Look at how much my baba missed me. Look at how painfully and fiercely he missed me. I had been wrong. I was wanted. This was my family.

  Finally, I could stop hating.

  I had come home.

  When Baba released me from his hug, I winced from the pain in my shoulder. He noticed immediately.

  “What is wrong, Jing? Are you hurt?”

  “I…fell down a tree.” I avoided Baba’s eyes. It was technically the truth; Baba didn’t have to know it was a Renmian Tree. It wouldn’t do to have him worry about my adventures.

  “Let your grandmother have a look at it. I’ll get the healing balm,” said Baba, and he was about to ru
sh off when Grandmama stopped him.

  “For Buddha’s sake, Tao, please get dry. You’ll catch a terrible cold. Let Pan retrieve the balm.”

  As Pan and Baba disappeared from the room and Grandmama pulled down the side of my lapel to reveal my right shoulder, I felt like crying again, not from the pain in my wound, but from seeing how Baba fussed over me as anxiously as he used to fuss over Mama.

  “Such a terrible bruise…” Grandmama shook her head as she took the ointment from Pan. “I never liked it when you climbed trees; what if you broke an arm or a leg?”

  I smiled. This was practically nothing compared to the other kinds of pain I knew.

  “Ma, how is Jing? Is she hurt anywhere else?” Baba soon came back in with a rag draped over his head. I couldn’t bear to see him worrying anymore.

  “No, Baba. I feel fine. I only fell on my shoulder, and it’s nothing.”

  As Grandmama gently massaged the soothing balm into my shoulder, I looked around. “Where’s everyone else?” I hadn’t seen Wei or Aunt Mei anywhere.

  “Gege gone; Aunt Mei went to Baihe today!” said Pan.

  “Oh, so Wei tagged along, then?” I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he came home. Maybe I could hide somewhere and give him a good scare.

  There was a long pause, and something turned inside my stomach as the grown-ups exchanged glances. Baba turned away, an unreadable look on his face. It was Grandmama who spoke.

  “Wei left for a weeklong field trip with the schoolmaster.”

  Oh…but it didn’t matter. I smiled. “I’ll get to see him when he gets back anyway.”

  “Jing,” Baba began, but stopped when Aunt Mei came in through the front door, saw me, and dropped the cage of cackling geese she had been carrying.

  On my journey home, I had imagined a hundred and one scenarios that could entail upon my unexpected return, but none of them could’ve prepared me for Aunt Mei’s reaction when she learned the true reason I returned.

  “You ran…away?” Her eyes looked as though they could burn me to a crisp.

  “I had to, Aunt Mei.” I backed away instinctively. “They sold me to a chinglou!”

  Surely she knew what kind of place that was? But her face contorted into an angry grimace in the flickering light of the oil lamp. “And so you dared to show your face, foolishly thinking that you still have a home here to return to? Don’t you know that a daughter who is married is like water that has been splashed out of a bucket?”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a plain statement.

  I understood now. I no longer had a home here. I didn’t belong and neither was I welcome. I screamed as Aunt Mei delivered a painful twist to my left ear.

  “Now, you listen, and you listen closely! From the instant you were wedded into the Guo family, you belonged to them and they are entitled to do anything they want with you. Whether they treat you like a daughter or a slave is their prerogative! Do you understand?” With every sentence, she gave my ear a rough jerk. “You have no one but yourself to blame for the kind of misfortune you have. If you had prayed to the Golden Huli Jing more fervently for a good marriage, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I will personally escort you back to your in-laws tomorrow.”

  “No! I won’t go back!” I cried. I would rather die.

  I was genuinely surprised when Pan ran over and clung to me. “No, Aunt Mei! I want Jiejie to stay. I don’t want her gone like Gege!”

  I buried my face in his hair. And then, even Baba spoke. “Jie, I don’t see why this has to be done. Jing could very well come home and stay. I won’t let her return to Xiawan and be treated in such a way.”

  But Aunt Mei turned and flared at Baba. “Stop siding with her! Do you realize the amount of trouble she’ll be getting our family into?” When Baba did not seem swayed, Aunt Mei pointed a quivering finger at him. “So if Wei runs away and comes back knocking at our door, you’re going to stand by and let that happen, too? Tao, don’t be stupid! What is done cannot be undone, at least not in this fashion. If you—”

  My arms loosened around Pan. What did she say? Wasn’t Wei out on a field trip?

  “Aunt Mei, where is Wei…?”

  “You speak only when you are spoken to, child!” she snapped, but I reached out and held her wrist in my hand.

  “I want to know what happened to Wei.”

  “Why, you…” Aunt Mei tried to shake my hand off, but my grip was firm.

  “Tell me!” I screamed. “What have you done to my brother!”

  “Jing! What has become of you?” Baba got in between me and Aunt Mei and held my shoulders. “Please, calm down and we’ll tell you everything.”

  My whole body was trembling, and my next words came out a whisper. I could hardly bear to hear myself say it. “You sold him, didn’t you?”

  Pause.

  “It’s not like that—”

  “Didn’t you?” I screamed. It’s not like that? Really? He’d used the exact same words when he tried to explain marrying me off to a living hell. And it wasn’t like that? Was it really? “What have you done…oh, Baba, what have you done?” I let out a sob as I fell to my knees. How could they do to Wei what they’d done to me? How could they put my little brother through the same thing I went through? My sacrifice should have been enough! Why wasn’t I worth more than five stupid silvers!

  “Jing, we had no other choice.” Grandmama finally spoke. “Pan fell very ill the year he turned three, and we did not have enough money for the rare medicinal herbs that he needed to take for six months. The only way was for Wei to be adopted into another family. Wei was the one who offered to go, Jing,” Grandmama continued. “The Huang family runs a prominent blacksmithing business but has no sons to bear the family name. They had been very taken with Wei when Baba brought him along during his winter job.”

  “Jing, I didn’t know what else to do…” Baba was pleading with me. “Without Wei, Pan would have surely died. He did it for Pan.”

  I looked down at Pan, who was holding my hand and gazing back at me.

  I let go. Lies…None of them were telling the truth! How could Wei have offered to be given up? “I shall never forgive what you’ve done!” I yelled at everyone and ran into the room Wei and I used to share. I slammed my first door.

  I had long ago learned not to feel sorry for myself no matter what happened, but I hadn’t taught myself not to feel sorry for the ones I loved. My poor Wei. Where was he now? What was he doing? What if his new family didn’t truly love him? What if they hurt him? What if they had a zanzhi? He would be so lonely and so scared…

  “Why are you so stupid, Wei!” I clawed at the flattened straws on our bed as I sobbed. My hands swiped at something amid the straw and it flew across the room.

  A book.

  A simple one with a few rice-paper pages bound together with string. The same kind that Wei used when he went to school…

  I picked it up and opened it. I recognized my brother’s handwriting immediately—his wobbly lines and careless strokes. I traced them slowly with my finger. There were lines being repeated across a few pages, obviously part of an assignment. I didn’t know most of the words, but I had learned enough from my short time at the chinglou to recognize the simple ones, which was why I abruptly stopped a few pages in.

  I saw my name. And Pan’s.

  There was a character that meant death. And then another that meant sorrow. I didn’t understand the rest.

  This page wasn’t an assignment. And I needed to know what it said.

  I hugged Wei’s book. I would pay a visit to the shrine tomorrow. Shenpopo or Lian could help me read this.

  I got up before sunrise, just as the sky was turning a lighter shade of navy. I kneeled in front of Mama’s mortuary tablet and touched my head to the ground thrice.

  It’s good to see you again, Mama.

  Soon after leaving the house, I passed by our patch of farmland, now bare and covered in snow. I slowed down when our bull came into view, tied to a
peach tree on the side of the dirt path, exactly where Pan had told me he’d be. My little brother had named him Mou Mou. When I approached the bulky frame, Mou Mou lifted his head and gazed at me with his dark brown eyes.

  Hissing gently, I reached out and touched the long, wrinkly snout. It was slightly wet and had a stale sort of smell. Mou Mou snorted and half closed his eyes. I wasn’t sure how I felt, watching this sedate creature lying here without a care in the world. This creature that was bought from the bride price that I had fetched from the Guos. This creature that had, in a few ways, replaced me within my own family. It belonged here even more than I did.

  I laughed. My chest constricted so tightly it started to hurt. I let my hands drop to my sides. It was really no use mulling over this, trying to figure out how I was supposed to feel about some bull I had been traded for.

  I continued my way toward the shrine, and soon passed by the still quiet village square that would be bustling with activity within the hour. Nothing much had changed. One wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between this morning and another morning more than a year ago. It reminded me of a poem I had learned while in Yuegong Lou, written by Li Qingzhao, one of the greatest poets of our dynasty:

  Everything around me remains unchanged, but not the people; everything is done,

  And yet, tears flow before I can utter a word of my bitterness.

  Only the dirt path leading to the village square was cleared of snow, and I walked along it, listening to the sounds my shoes made brushing against the sandy dirt. The wooden stalls that flanked the sides of the main street were empty, and I could still identify to whom each one belonged: Peng, the florist; Lu Shang’s mother, Da Yeye, who sold the tastiest meat buns; Hun’s butcher stall…

  I made almost an entire round of the village before arriving at a flight of steps that would take me up to the shrine. The logs that lay on top of each other were visible against the whiteness of the snow.