The Crystal Ribbon

by Celeste Lim

  It must’ve been the shadows doing the very same trick. I sighed. It was also the same day I had brought my first offering to the guardian. Now that day seemed like so many lifetimes ago. The girl who had kneeled on this very mat and prayed to win a tree-climbing match might have been a completely different person.

  It even felt like another life, for that girl had had a home, and knew clearly, without a doubt, where she belonged.

  I shook my head. What was I waiting for? Hadn’t I come here to seek answers?

  I closed my eyes.

  Great Golden Huli Jing, I suppose it is our ribbon of Yuan that has led me back here once again…I have come to seek your divine guidance, as I have nowhere else to go, nowhere that I belong. Please, show me the path upon which I am to walk.

  As I repeated my request over and over in my mind like a mantra, I began to shake the cylinder, tipping it at an angle away from myself. The little qian sticks made a pleasant clattering sound as they were shaken back and forth in the tube. Gradually, one stick slowly moved up and away from the rest, and when it left the tube altogether, it fell onto the floor with a little tap. I now had my answer from the guardian.

  “Thank you, Great Golden—”

  I dropped the entire tube of sticks.

  The Huli Jing statue had blinked its eyes! Both of them!

  The loud noise brought rapid footsteps to the hall. Then Shenpopo was standing at the door, panting. She squinted at me. “Jing? Is that you, my child?”

  “Yes, Shenpopo, it is,” I replied, my hand still on my chest. “I—I’m sorry to have startled you out of bed. It’s just that…”

  Wait. Was it even a good idea to tell her what I’d just seen?

  “Oh…well, no need to be sorry, love,” said Shenpopo, quickly recovering from the surprise. She walked over and sat down on the prayer mat beside me, smoothing out the folds of her simple white robe. “What I’m concerned about is—what brings you back to this place at such an hour?”

  I sat up straighter. And then I told Shenpopo everything.

  “So now I do not know where to go.” I twirled my sash around my fingers. “It was only when I remembered your words to me that I came. When I think of how big the world is, and yet there isn’t a place where I belong…”

  Don’t cry, silly Jing. You made that choice, remember?

  Shenpopo braided and rebraided my hair. “And you think that perhaps this place will give you a sense of belonging because of your yuan with the Great Golden Huli Jing?”

  “Well…not really, I suppose.” If even my own home did not make me feel like I belonged, how could I expect to feel more at home anywhere else? It didn’t make sense…And all of a sudden, I felt strangely alone—alone, but not lonely. I was independent, a separate and distinct entity from everything and everyone around me. I had felt the same way when I left Xiawan’s gates, as though I did not belong anywhere, or to anyone…and yet, somehow, I wasn’t sad at all. I was peaceful, because I finally understood that I belonged to only one thing—myself.

  “Shenpopo…” My hands were shaking. “Maybe all along, I have been searching for the wrong thing. I’ve always thought I needed to find a place that would make me feel like I belonged—the home of my spirit, as you had put it. But I think I’ve realized that a true sense of belonging should come from within myself. From here.” I placed a hand over my heart. “So that no matter where I am, no matter where I go, nothing and no one can make me feel different.”

  It was as though a heavy sack of rice had been lifted off my chest. So this was what Sisi, my little spider friend, had meant about carrying one’s home with oneself. This was why Sisi never felt sad wherever she went, because home was in her heart.

  She belonged to herself.

  Just as I belonged to myself.

  Shenpopo placed a hand on my shoulder and lifted my chin. “You’re a bright girl, Jing, just like your name. And you are absolutely right, for just as one cannot put a grain of rice back into its husk, what is done cannot be undone. But out of this grain of rice, one could make nourishing food.” Shenpopo placed a wrinkled hand on my forehead. “Ultimately, it is what we make of what is done to us that counts. You have been through unspeakable horrors, and yet you’ve managed to bloom like a lily, untainted from the mire.”

  Then she glanced down at all the qian sticks, scattered across the floor where I had dropped them. “I see that you had been intending to consult the Huli Jing through Qiu Qian. Let’s see what the oracle says, shall we?”

  I glanced down at the floor as well. My first qian stick was indistinguishable from the rest now. “But…I dropped the entire qian tube by accident. I can no longer tell which stick is mine.”

  “Do not fret; we could always consult the oracle again,” said Shenpopo, gathering up the qian sticks and then pressing the full qian tube back into my hands. “Here, do the Qiu Qian one more time.”

  I started to shake the qian tube, closing my eyes, but this time, I changed my prayer: Great Golden Huli Jing, I have found my purpose. Let me stay at the shrine to serve you. I shall learn to be a great shaman and healer so that no child will have to suffer from horrid illnesses like my baby brother had.

  When I finally heard a light thud aside from the constant clacking made by the other qian sticks, I opened my eyes. Shenpopo picked up the one on the ground and gazed at the little inscriptions on it. “It doesn’t look too good, but we’ll only know for sure after we’ve consulted the manual. Come along.”

  With my heart in my throat, I got up and followed Shenpopo to her desk, where the shamaness brought out a thick red book and started flipping through the pages.

  “Hmm…oh…”

  I wished Shenpopo would hurry up. I felt as though my seat was burning my bottom. The crease that was deepening in between Shenpopo’s gray eyebrows did not ease the tightness in my stomach at all, and I jumped when she finally spoke.

  “What will you do if the oracle says no?”

  My mouth hung open, but no words came out. Shenpopo had a point. What if the oracle didn’t agree that this was where I should be? But I wanted to stay.

  But do you want it enough?

  I fidgeted with my sash. Yes, and somehow, I had to convince Shenpopo to take me in. “I…I want to stay here, Shenpopo.”

  “And you’re insisting, even if the results of the oracle advises otherwise?”

  I nodded. “I want to make this decision for myself and not because of the oracle. But only if you will have me, of course,” I added, dipping my chin. I didn’t have to listen to the oracle, but I did respect Shenpopo’s wishes. If she couldn’t take me in, then I would travel the world with Koko and find Kaizhen, which was equally tempting.

  Shenpopo’s face broke into a smile. “You will make a fine apprentice.” She wrapped my cold hands in her warm ones. “Remember, in order to be spiritual mediums and not lose ourselves, we must realize that although the fates of humans are up to the gods, the decisions in life are still up to us. Strength of character is never with those who blindly follow. You need to be able to make your own choices and walk your own path.”

  Feeling Shenpopo’s hands firmly enveloping mine, the overwrought feeling in my stomach unwound. Something new was about to unfold in my life—a different chapter, a road I picked for myself. And it was then that I remembered the promise I had made in my prayer to the Great Golden Huli Jing while I was trapped in the chinglou.

  If I come home, I will forever devote myself to you.

  As I had anticipated, there was great commotion down at the village the next day. Baba was looking for me. And sure enough, from the gates of the shrine, Shenpopo and I soon saw Baba and Aunt Mei running up the log steps, Baba taking two at a time and Aunt Mei looking more sullen than usual.

  “Yue Shenpo! Have you seen—” Baba was panting in between his words, and then stopped short when he spotted me at the gate. “Jing!”

  I had never seen my baba look so happy as he dashed up the last few steps and hugged me.


  “Jing, you’re here! We were so worried when we found your note! Why did you run away? You don’t have to worry about going back to Xiawan anymore. The Guos won’t be giving you any more trouble; Baba won’t let them.”

  “No, Baba. I’m not going home.” I shook my head, trying my hardest not to cry. “I know I’ve been divorced. I overheard you and Aunt Mei and Grandmama talking about it. They demanded a return of the five silver pieces. I know our family has barely enough to get by in winter, but I cannot undo what I’ve done, and I’m ashamed to admit that I do not regret running away from the chinglou. But I do feel sorry for the hardship that I have brought upon the family…For such a dishonorable daughter, I cannot make Baba suffer all the consequences of my actions. At least you will have one less to care for—”

  Before I could finish, Baba reached over and pulled me into a hug. His quivering voice broke my heart.

  “Why? Jing, don’t think like that. Don’t talk like that! You’re my daughter, and I already said that I’d do everything I could to raise you—I’d give an arm and a leg; I’d sell that bull we have.”

  This was the hardest thing I had ever done—insisting on goodbyes was far more difficult than just running away. I broke our embrace and looked up. Baba eyes were red, but mine were, too. “Baba, I really want to be here. I’m not leaving because I’m scared or confused. I know exactly what I want.”

  Baba looked at me as though he could not understand what else I could possibly want more than being with my family. “What do you want?”

  “I want to become a shamaness, like Shenpopo.”

  At my words, Aunt Mei could no longer remain silent. “Don’t be silly, child! You have some nerve going around begging others to take you in. Stop making trouble for Yue Shenpo! Don’t you think you’ve already caused enough trouble for your own family? Have you no shame?”

  I looked at my aunt. With everything that had been going on, I had almost forgotten that she was there. But strangely, her words no longer hurt or frightened me. This surprised me at first, but then I understood why.

  From the day I decided to take charge of my own life, I will no longer be influenced by you and your words. I didn’t run away because I was scared of you, Aunt Mei, I did it because I love Baba.

  I smiled to myself, even as Aunt Mei continued with torrents of harsh words.

  “Your baba has already said that you could come home; what more do you want? You ungrateful little—”

  “Mei, if you won’t stop talking to Jing like that, go home!” Baba bellowed.

  Pride swelled in my chest. My baba was standing up for me, again. At length, Shenpopo walked up and placed a hand on Baba’s arm.

  “I would be happy to have Jing as an apprentice, Mr. Li, for you have raised a fine daughter, one who would make a great shamaness in the future. You should be proud.”

  Baba had such a look of wistfulness in his eyes that it must have pained him to speak his next words. “Are you certain that this is what you want?”

  One could travel the entire land of Song and never find a father who loved his children enough to acknowledge their will rather than bending them to his own. I had the best baba in the world.

  I nodded. “Baba, I have learned that my true home is in here.” I pressed my hand to my chest. “My heart tells me where I belong.”

  Baba’s shoulders sagged. “And what does it say?”

  “My heart lies in my desire to help others,” I said. “Baba, the ribbon of Yuan ties me to the shrine, to the Great Golden Huli Jing. I want to be a shamaness and master the art of healing so that no child in our village will have to suffer like Pan did…”

  With a kind of half sob, Baba pulled me back into his arms. Somehow, I knew now that he would let me have my way. His shoulders were shuddering, and I stroked his back the way Mama used to whenever I was upset. Koko flapped his wings in an encouraging way on one of the branches of the barren trees around us, reminding me of the earliest days in spring when sprouts and blossoms would start popping up on every branch and twig, like how my heart was feeling now.

  “Baba, remember that time in spring when we were coming to the shrine and you told me about my name?” I asked. Baba nodded, still hugging me. “Shenpopo had told me on the same day that names will carve a person’s destiny. And, well, perhaps mine did. My name is Jing, and maybe this is where I should be. And…it’s not as though I’m living very far away. We’ll get to see each other all the time, won’t we?”

  Finally, Baba loosened his embrace and looked me squarely in the eye.

  “Come back for dinner often,” he said. Then, as though remembering something, he reached into his sleeve and produced Mama’s bangle. He gently slid my left hand through it and held my hand tight. “And keep this so that Mama can watch over you. Black jade can ward off evil. It will be useful to Huanan’s future shamaness.”

  The smile on his face spread all the way to my own lips.

  And from somewhere among the trees, Koko started a song that sounded hauntingly similar to the songs Baba used to play on his dizi.

  Later that same day, as I was sweeping snow from the stone path in the front yard of the shrine, someone else came running up the steps.

  “Lu Shang?”

  I almost dropped the broom I was holding. My childhood nemesis! Lu Shang was the last person I’d expected to see. What business could he have here?

  “You’re really back, Huli Jing!” Lu Shang exclaimed as he reached the top of the steps. Then abruptly, he dropped his gaze all the way down to his feet. “I didn’t mean to call you that; I just forgot. I guess I’m still too used to—”

  “It’s all right,” I interrupted, no longer holding back my smile. “What brings you here?”

  It seemed such a long time ago since Lu Shang had last made fun of me. To be honest, I rather missed our bantering. But somehow, things felt too different now to pick up exactly where we had left off. After all this time, Lu Shang had lost the baby fat around his chin and developed the chiseled features of grown men. His face that had always been filthy from playing in dirt was now dusky and clean-shaven.

  “I heard that you’ve returned, and came to see for myself,” he said, still not quite looking into my eyes. “Honestly never thought we’d see you again.”

  I played with my bangle. “Neither did I.”

  “Your baba said that Shenpopo has taken you as an apprentice.”

  “Yes, so I suppose I won’t be going anywhere else.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then it was Shang who spoke.

  “I’m glad you’re back.”

  And the curious blush on his face reminded me of the delightful plum blossom buds that we would soon get to see when all this whiteness gave way to color.

  “I don’t want this to be a history lesson.”

  This was one of the first things I decided before I began Jing’s story. But history on its own has inspired so much of this novel that it is worth a quick note.

  Though the characters, incidents, and certain places in the story are purely fictional, the story is set in AD 1102, during the Northern Song dynasty in the Taiyuan province of Medieval China; and much of the detail in the story, such as the practice of tongyang xi, traditional rituals, and the invention of paper money, are historically accurate.

  Jing’s story begins in the second year of Emperor Huizong’s reign, one of the last emperors to rule before the Jurchens from the Jin dynasty up north invaded and claimed the northern regions, which included the Taiyuan province where the fictional Huanan village and Xiawan are supposedly located. They also conquered major cities like Hejian, and later even the capital of Kaifeng (then known as Dongjing), forcing the Song forces to withdraw south to Lin’an. This historical event, later coined “The Jingkang Incident,” marked the beginning of the Southern Song dynasty.

  Although the magical elements in the story are fictional, that isn’t to say that the people in those days didn’t believe in such magical creatures and deities; so
me of the Chinese beliefs, practices, and rituals mentioned in the novel still exist, and certain characters, such as the huli jing, spider jing, and baigu jing, are drawn from classical Chinese literature and compilations such as the Shanhai Jing, Journey to the West, Soushen Ji, and Liaozhai Zhiyi.

  What I especially hope to bring to attention is the tradition of the tongyang xi. Although the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) banned this after its establishment, it is still practiced in rural areas, generally among poorer communities. My ama (grandmother) used to tell us many such horror stories, including one about how our great-grandmother bravely fled China during the great famine and came to settle in Malaysia.

  At the time I heard this, similar tales appeared in the Chinese books I read and the shows we watched on TV—all stories about how maidens endured and persevered through horrors and injustices, in the end finding balance and contentment. There was, however, none about them breaking free. Which is why I so needed to write about a girl who did.

  Before I sat down to think about my acknowledgments, I had wanted to make it oh so witty, funny, and lighthearted. But when I finally made a complete list of these amazing and lovely people I wanted to thank, I only felt like crying. I owe them too, too much.

  First, Enid Blyton, thank you for writing books that shaped me into the curious and adventurous person I am today. Without your books, I wouldn’t love books.

  I owe a ton of thanks to my agent and fairy godmother, Rosemary Stimola, who saw and believed this book in its infancy, and also to Allison Remcheck, for her amazing edits before it was submitted.

  A huge thank-you to my Scholastic family, especially my mentor/editor, Andrea Davis Pinkney; my copy editor, Jessica White, who had an encyclopedic mind that spotted all my inconsistencies; Carol Ly for the mind-blowing cover design; and artist Olivia Chin Mueller for the inspiringly accurate cover art. I couldn’t in all my life have imagined anything better.