Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (9 page)

Li Xi moved from the metal connector to the rusty ladder attached to the side of the car. For a second, An Ni thought he was going to climb to the top of the train car. She prayed he wouldn’t, because then he’d expect her to follow. Instead, he focused on the two windows. One was open only slightly, but the farthest one over was open enough that a body could slip through. Li Xi went from the ladder to the first window, using it as a foothold, then grabbed the frame of the second window and stepped over. He slid his legs through, and then his body disappeared. The boys quickly followed, then Li Xi poked his head out the window and waved to An Ni.

She was finding it hard to let go of the handle she’d found. With it under her hand, she felt that she wouldn’t be blown off the train to fall to her death below. She clung to it and tried to still the dizzy feeling that was taking over her head.

“
Guo lai
,” Li Xi called out to her to come to him.

Slowly, An Ni moved until she could put one foot and one hand on the ladder. She inched over until both feet balanced on the bottom step. Taking a deep breath, she began to climb. With each rung, her fingers hung on like claws, almost refusing to let go to climb another few inches. But she did it, and when she reached the rung she needed to reach to be level with the window, she closed her eyes and just did it. She reached out and grabbed it, then swung herself over. When she found footing in the open space of the windowsill, she made the mistake of looking down at the ground—a brown blur as they picked up speed. Her vision swam before her eyes, and she felt a hand on her arm.

Li Xi grabbed her in a tight grip, and together with him pulling and her climbing, he jerked her into the window, and she landed on the floor, her butt hitting it soundly. She scrambled to her feet, and then Li Xi used his hand to push her back down again.

“Stay down and be quiet,” he said as he looked around.

The other boys were squatting, as if they were on a steady street corner casually throwing dice and not just seconds away from a bloody death on Beijing train tracks. They looked at her and laughed. She knew she looked pale, because she’d felt the blood drain from her face the second her feet had hovered between windows.

“You’re a chicken, An Ni,” Li Xi spat out. “I knew it.”

An Ni didn’t argue with him. She
was
terrified of heights—and, of course, clinging to moving objects. She looked around at the rows of seats with tables between them, lines of cabinets overhead for storage. Luckily, the car was empty.

Li Xi held his finger to his lips. “Everyone spread out and look for food or anything valuable. Stay in this car.” He went to the corner of the car and walked behind the counter, opening and closing cupboards. He began to toss out small containers of instant noodles, and the boys picked them up, stuffing them into their jackets.

An Ni stood and wandered over to a table. She opened up the seat, guessing it was storage. It was empty. She went to the next one and opened it. Empty again. Behind her, she could hear the boys finding things and knew she’d better come up with something.

She went to the next table and seats. She closed her eyes and then put her hand on the seat to flip it open. Before she did, something caught her eyes. Something dark was wedged in crack behind the faded yellow seat. She pulled on it and was rewarded when a man’s wallet emerged. She glanced around and saw the boys weren’t paying her any attention, so she dropped to her knees under the table and put the wallet to her nose. It smelled like real leather. Could she be so lucky?

She opened it and felt a rush of defeat. Other than a few scraps of paper and some dog-eared photos, it was empty.

“An Ni, where are you?” Li Xi called out.

She stuffed the wallet into the pocket of her pants and crawled out.

“What the hell are you doing? Hiding?” His hands were on his hips, and the look in his eyes was thunderous.

An Ni stood and went to the counter, standing beside the boys.

“We need you to carry some of these,” Li Xi had found a refrigerator and in it, they’d struck gold. He set at least a dozen frozen entrees out on the counter. The sight of the food moved An Ni’s stomach, and it rumbled loudly. Even as scared as she was, her hunger loomed.

“How can I carry them and get off the train safely?” she asked, looking over his shoulder at the window. The train was picking up speed. She felt a shiver of panic.

“I don’t know, but you’re going to. Figure it out, just like we have to do.” Li Xi told her, then slid six of the trays across the counter toward her.

An Ni looked around and saw the trash bin at the end of the counter. She opened it and thankfully, it was empty. She pulled the liner out of it, then tucked her six trays inside, tied a knot in the plastic, then threw it over her shoulder.

Li Xi grinned at her. “Good idea. See—you can be smart if you just stop and think.”

He opened a few more cupboards until he found a roll of bin liners. He pulled off a few and tossed them at the boys, taking one for himself. The boys scrambled to stuff their goods inside, then mimicking An Ni, tied knots and got ready to go.

Li Xi led them to the window, then turned around. “This is easy—I’ve done it a million times. Just do what I do and don’t let go or jump until I tell you. But when it’s your turn to go, you gotta move fast. Don’t hesitate, or you’ll be sorry.”

He climbed out the window, and she watched as, like a monkey, he maneuvered himself over to the other window, then back to the ladder, then all the way over until he stood on the connector again. One of the boys climbed out after him, then did the same.

“Let An Ni go next, and when you hit the ground, tuck your legs and curl into a ball,” Li Xi called out, then pushed the first boy hard, sending him flying off the train and onto the ground. The boy rolled, and the bag of loot flew from his grip. But An Ni waited, and when he stopped rolling, he stood and held his arms up triumphantly.

He was okay. But still—what if she wouldn’t be? She slunk back into the train car, unwilling to go next. The last boy looked at her, raising his eyebrows, then shook his head as he climbed out the window and disappeared.

An Ni knew she’d be in trouble for disobeying, but she couldn’t stop the trembling that had come back to her. She was going to get hurt; she just knew it. Then who would take care of Xiao Mei? Or for that matter, who would take care of her? But ….if Li Xi had to climb back in the train to come after her—that would be worse.

She went to the window. She first stopped and stuffed the lumpy, cold bag of plastic food trays under her shirt, then tucked the material into her pants as tight as she could. She needed both hands and didn’t know how the boys had done it while holding their stuff.

She hesitated when she heard a door behind her. She turned and saw a man—the conductor by the looks of his uniform—coming down the aisle toward her.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded, stomping faster and coming closer. An Ni could see by the rage in his face that he wasn’t going to be lenient. Visions of the police and handcuffs swam before her eyes.

She bolted to the window and put one leg out just as the man reached for her. She felt his fingers skim her hair, and she panicked. She saw Li Xi’s hand stretched out, but the man was so close she could smell the garlic on his breath, and she lunged away from him, hoping Li Xi would reach her and pull her to safety.

The last thing she saw was the browns and greens of the swirling ground coming up to meet her much too quickly, then everything faded to black.

Chapter Eight

T
he tree-lined street was narrow, but Mari was accustomed to dodging parked bicycles, pedicabs, and small vehicles. Other than the highways, most streets in China were just as crowded. But she smiled as, behind her, Max tripped more than a few times and let out a few well-known expletives during their trek. Finally they moved into the oldest part of the hutong, where more hazards awaited them in the thick tree roots that spotted the walkways.

They eventually navigated to the main entrance of the hutong, obvious by the four huge characters engraved over an archway. Though they’d passed plenty of crumbling bricks and walkways, Mari was impressed to see the old doors that flanked the even older wall. A red sign bolted to the concrete was separated with characters on one side and English on the other. Max stopped in front of it and read as she waited. A caricature of a chubby policeman at the corner of the sign pointed to the words below.

WELCOME TO OUR COMMUNITY. ACCORDING TO CHINESE LAW, ALL FOREIGNERS SHOULD REPORT TO THE LOCAL POLICE STATION WITHIN 24 HOURS OF VISITING IN THIS AREA. WE APPRECIATE YOUR COOPERATION.

Max looked at her and raised his eyebrows. She shook her head. Checking in wasn’t necessary, and no one really complied anyway. Why give the local police a reason to follow and be suspicious? She’d learned long ago to stay as far away from the authorities as much as possible to save a lot of undeserved discomfort. And with what had happened to a local citizen only months ago when the local
chengguan
picked up one of them and accused him of begging, then proceeded to manhandle him to the point of breaking his nose—there was even more reason not to initiate any communication. The foreigners just didn’t have a clue when it came to local police antics. She waved Max away from the sign.

Next to the wall, two old men served as watchmen to their neighborhood entrance as they perched on wooden stools. One called out “
jīdàn
,” as he pointed to a basket at his feet, filled to the top with brown eggs speckled by dirt and hen feces.

The second man stared and sipped at a steel-lined cup of what could be green tea, though she bet it was something closer to warm beer—or at least it would be, later that evening when the local beer seller made his rounds door-to-door, calling out his brew for sale.

“
Bu yao, xie xie
,” she declined the man’s loud offer of cheap eggs as she slipped by the men and into the hutong. She wasn’t exactly sure where Max would want to go, but she hoped just a cursory tour would satisfy the intense longing she saw in his eyes. He was lucky—many of the hutongs had been cleared away when the city was preparing for the Olympics, but by chance, this one remained untouched.

As they walked, she could see Max taking in everything greedily. She didn’t think he missed anything, not even the scrawny mother cat and her kittens as they crept through the bushes that lined the walkway, two tumbling against one another as they wrestled. He even paused when, in the courtyard shared by two small houses, an elderly woman picked through a bucket of walnuts held by an old man still wearing his nightclothes.

To Mari, the sights and smells were all familiar, and a memory of her old neighbor, Widow Zu, came to mind. The woman used to give them fresh eggs, and Mari’s baba and mama returned the favor with vegetables and other treats. The old woman always looked out for Mari and her sisters, even spying to keep them in line—another set of eyes when their baba and mama wasn’t aware of what was going on right under their noses. The hutongs were that way—neighbors were like family.

“This is just amazing,” Max said, stopping at a dry fountain in the middle of the main courtyard.

“It is, isn’t it?” Mari replied. She thought about how, so often when she was younger, she took her home for granted—even took the entire hutong for granted. This kind of place—it was rare to find any longer. Even the feel of it was nothing less than magical. Why the younger generation all strove to live in high-rise apartments and penthouses, she just couldn’t understand. For a moment, a wave of homesickness washed over her, and she felt that she could almost smell the sweet scent of her mama, feel the warmth of her arms enveloping her in a tight hug.

She sighed and thought of Bolin. Maybe she should try to find a way to get him to Wuxi. Her family didn’t have a lot of room, but they’d find a way to make it work if she said the word. Perhaps there, with family around, he’d improve and regain his will to live again.

She wished it were that easy. She could hear him now, still trying to hold on to everything.
What about our business? Our camel? Our apartment we worked so hard to secure?
He wouldn’t consider that he’d left her to figure out how to keep it all while he succumbed to his addiction.
So many complications, and she didn’t know the answer to any of them.

Max’s voice brought her back to the present. “It’s like this place is lost in time. But right here,”—he thumped on his own chest—“I feel it. It’s the heartbeat of the city.”

“You’re right, Max. This is where real Chinese are born and raised—where the best people with the kindest intentions are molded—from hutongs just like this one.”

Max nodded. “And to think, just a mile or so away, the people have iPhones stuck to their heads as they walk around in their expensive designer clothes or ride in their luxury cars, all competing to make the most money and own the finest toys. I can’t imagine giving up the peace that this place brings.” He’d stopped walking and now stood looking, taking time to examine the small houses and courtyards.

“Do you know where you want to go in here?” Mari asked. She’d seen a few curious people looking their way, pointing at Max. She knew he was hard to miss with his fair looks and tall stature. She also knew it was only a matter of time before someone—probably someone in charge—approached them to ask why they were there.

She watched as he seemed to be thinking intensely, then he nodded. “I’m sorry. I was thinking that here, in this place, is where I should find a story to write. Something real—about the people and relationships—not some hyped-up political garbage like they want me to find.”

Mari wasn’t sure what he meant.

Max shrugged. “Excuse my rambling. Let’s get back to why we’re here. My daughter was found east of the fountain in this main courtyard, nestled on the ground between two jasmine trees that the locals call the Twin Trees.”

Mari turned and led him east. His directions were precise, and she hoped he’d find what he was looking for—if it was something tangible. If it wasn’t, she hoped just finding the place would bring him the satisfaction she could tell he longed for.

As they walked, she decided she’d made a good decision to be his guide. He was easy company, so much less demanding than other foreigners she’d worked with at the Great Wall. She almost hated to charge him for her time, as today was the first day she’d felt relaxed in a long time. Seeing Beijing through his eyes, she remembered again why she and Bolin had been drawn to build a life there. She remembered the history and the amazing tenacity of the people there that refused to be beaten, always rising up again to rebuild their city after each defeat. Truthfully, Max was a salve to her usually discontent spirit. She felt she should be paying him.

They passed more walled courtyard homes as they turned down a few more lanes, trying to continue east. Some boasted remnants of pairs of stone lions by their thick, red doors. Other entrances were flanked by bags of trash or stacks of papers to be recycled. Max was getting to see some of the most basic living conditions—even previously big houses that had been converted to small one-room homes, with several families all sharing kitchen and bathroom privileges. She wondered what he thought of that.

“Such character,” Max mumbled as he followed. “This has to be the most amazing part of Beijing.”

Mari laughed. “Yes, I guess you could say that, though the residents of the other remaining hutongs may argue that their neighborhood holds that title.”

They winded down a few more alleyways as Mari looked for anything that could be twin trees. Each time she found a few, as they approached they turned out to be something other than jasmine trees. Behind her, Max mumbled again.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that,” she said.

“Oh, nothing. I was just remembering something my daughter told me about Genghis Khan.”

“Was it that he and his army reduced all of Beijing to rubble, then the hutongs were designed and built to crisscross the city and offer more protection?”

Max laughed, and Mari felt a flush creep up her neck and over her face. Why was he laughing at her? Did she use the wrong English? Maybe she shouldn’t have come.

“I’m sorry—it’s just funny because that’s almost word for word what she said. Except she didn’t sound like a tour guide.”

“Your daughter must be a historian,” Mari answered, still feeling a bit indignant at his amusement. She moved toward a man using a bucket of steaming soapy water to clean a gate that lead to a well-kept courtyard. “We’re going to have to ask someone about your twin trees, because I don’t see them.”

The man stopped washing his gate and stood, waiting for them to approach. He held the dripping sponge, appearing impatient to get back to work.

“
Qing wen
,” Mari said, asking him to excuse her interruption. “Can you tell me if you have a landmark called the Twin Trees here? A set of jasmine trees, I believe.”

The man shook his head, then went back to working.

Mari turned back to Max and shrugged. “I guess not.”

They started walking again, but the man called out.

“They aren’t jasmine trees. They’re pomegranate trees, and you’re going the wrong way.” He pointed behind them, the way they’d come. “Go back to the last crisscrossing of alleys and turn left. That’ll lead you to the real center of the hutong, and your twin trees.”

Mari felt a rush of emotion. She couldn’t believe how much it meant to her, that she helped Max find the site he longed to see. She wanted to please him. “Come on, Max. I should’ve known anyway. In China, the pomegranate tree is favored because the fruit has so many seeds.”

Max looked at her, confused.

“
Seed
and
son
sound alike in Chinese. The older generation believe the more sons, the more blessings, so they plant the trees when they have a chance. It would be a perfect place to leave an unwanted daughter for a symbolic explanation of why they couldn’t keep her.”

Max’s curious look was replaced with one that she could’ve sworn bordered on anger. He walked beside her, but he didn’t speak.

“Have I offended you?” she asked.

He shook his head. Then he hesitated for a moment, staring into space before he looked back at her and nodded. “Actually, you did. She wasn’t unwanted. I just want to make that clear. I don’t know why her birth family gave her up, but I know she wasn’t unwanted. Use any other word you want, but not that one.”

Mari swallowed hard. She’d hit on a sensitive subject. “
Dui bu qi
, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. My English word—it was chosen too quickly.”

Max stared straight ahead as they walked, and Mari felt her heart drop. He was mad at her, and it didn’t feel good. She stopped and put her arm out, making him pause too. He turned to her.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice devoid of his usual warmth. “I need to see the place.”

“We’ll go, but first, please believe me, I’m truly sorry.” Mari didn’t know why, but it was important for her that he know her sincerity. There was only one way for her to make him see that she didn’t take the subject lightly. “And Max, I didn’t know my birth parents either—though I don’t call them birth family. The word
family
would imply that there was a bond between us. I remember nothing of the sort. I don’t know if I was abandoned, lost, or taken from them. But my baba and mama found me on the streets and took me in. I’m adopted.”

Max’s eyes bore into hers, as if he searched for truth. Then he nodded, and the warmth flooded back into his voice. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I overreacted, and I’m sorry. Thank you for sharing a part of your life with me, Mari. You make a good point about family versus parents. And I accept your apology.”

Mari began walking again, this time feeling more in step with him than before. She’d never really shared her past with anyone other than close family, but saying the words didn’t feel as awkward as she might have thought they would. With Max, they almost felt natural, as if telling him was meant to be. And he’d respected her privacy by not asking anything further. Now she longed to see the Twin Trees too. They moved faster to the crossing the man had spoken of, then turned as instructed.

A few yards later, just as the man had promised, they came upon the center of the hutong. It was an area much more well kept than the rest of the neighborhood, probably as a memorial to the ancestors who’d lived and died in the neighborhood. The lawn was well manicured, and the shrubs and trees were precisely groomed. A large koi pond was the focal point, and water gurgled into it from a fountain made of rocks. Mari spotted the twin trees behind the fountain.