Starry River of the Sky (16 page)

WangYi nodded, unable to speak.

“Good,” the old man said. “For you are destined to be together.”

The old man knocked his walking stick against the stone ground. Immediately, a green vine sprouted, twisting upward. Heart-shaped leaves budded and opened, and then a berry, so brilliant it seemed made of fire, grew. A great golden bird with a crimson crown flew down from the sky, plucked the berry with its beak, and brought it to WangYi.

“Eat the berry,” the old man said. “Not only will it grant you immortality, it will protect you from the heat of the sun.”

“Why do I need protection?” WangYi asked, holding the berry in his hand.

“Because you will live there,” the old man said. “You will live in the Palace of the Sun while your wife lives in the Palace of the Moon.”

“Not together?” WangYi said.

“No,” the old man said, and looked at him deliberately. “WangYi, you are like the power that has marked
you. Great but easily spoiled and in need of balance. You will rule at the Palace of the Sun, and if you rule wisely and well, the Celestial Rooster will fly you to the moon and back every twenty-nine days.”

And so it was. WangYi and his wife reconciled, and WangYi rules on the Sun, raising it in the sky during the day and lowering it at night. Because he does this faithfully, he is allowed to fly to see his wife for one night every twenty-nine days. On the night he arrives, the moon is full and bright, as the Moon Lady is happy and joyous. But after he leaves, she worries that he may again lapse into bad behavior and will not be able to visit, so the moon wanes and fades.

“But there’s no moon now,” Peiyi said, “and he’s still doing his job. The sun rises every day.”

“Yes,” Madame Chang said. “He is doing his job faithfully. The missing moon is not WangYi’s fault. He is continuing his job, waiting for when he can visit her.”

“Is that why it’s so hot out?” Peiyi asked. “Is WangYi working extra hard because he wants to prove he’s worthy to visit his wife? But if the moon is missing, where will he visit her?”

“Maybe she is on the sun with him,” Rendi said.

“No,” Peiyi scoffed. “She can’t go to the sun—she didn’t eat that berry. What happened to her when the moon disappeared?”

“She probably fell into the Starry River of the Sky,” Rendi said. “She could have even fallen through the sky and landed on the earth. She could be anywhere! The moon could be anywhere!”

“Yes,” Peiyi said, now turning to Madame Chang. “Where is the moon? And where is the Moon Lady?”

What she might have answered was lost, for at that moment, there was a clatter behind them.

“We are finished,” MeiLan called as Master Chao and Widow Yan collected knives and other implements from the table. Rendi, Peiyi, and Madame Chang rushed back to Mr. Shan and the toad.

“Is it all right?” Rendi asked, his throat returning to dryness.

Mr. Shan held out the toad. The deformed, crushed leg was gone, and a cloth bandage was wrapped around the toad’s body. The night sighed again, but the toad no longer made anguished moans. It looked up with large eyes.

“Three-legged toad,” Mr. Shan said.

After going to bed late, Peiyi, Rendi, and Master Chao overslept the next morning. However, the duke and his men were still sound asleep when they got up, which gave them plenty of time to remove all traces of the night’s adventure. Peiyi and Rendi swept and scoured Fang and Liu’s room and gave it a good airing, for the odor of the fermented tofu had not been improved by a night in the warm air. They threw Fang’s and Liu’s coats into the ragbag, and they buried the items found in Fang’s small
bag (matches, an evil-looking knife, and other various unpleasant-looking items) in the yard.

“Rendi,” Peiyi said as they patted the earth on top of Fang’s buried items, “why did those men kidnap you? Did they think you were going to warn the duke about them?”

“No,” Rendi said.

“Then why?” Peiyi pressed.

Rendi hesitated. Hundreds of words came to his head, but none came out of his mouth.

“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me,” Peiyi said, mistaking his silence. She ran back into the inn, obviously hurt.

“No, wait!” Rendi said, but it was too late. The back door had closed. Rendi sighed. Should he go after her? Rendi shrugged and followed.

But there wasn’t an opportunity to talk to Peiyi, as the dining room was full of activity. Duke Zhe and his men had finally woken up and were demanding breakfast, even though it was lunchtime. Before Rendi could say a word, both he and Peiyi were hopping from table to table, and Master Chao was wiping his brow.

The duke and his men did not laugh or make jokes the way they had the evening—had it only been an evening?—before. They were heavy-eyed and gruff, and the duke was petulant, often closing his eyes in irritation and touching his temple with his fingers. They were most likely still feeling the effects of the drugged wine. Soon and without enjoyment, they finished eating, and Rendi was sent to get the horses.

As Rendi put the blankets on the horses, he looked at his hands. “Those aren’t the hands of a rich boy,” Fang had said. When Rendi first arrived at the inn, they had been as soft and white as freshly steamed rice. Now they were sunburned and scarred.

But they could still feel the richness of cloth. The silk of the horse blankets was cool and smooth against his skin, and the material was so fine that it did not catch even on the roughness of his fingers. For one brief moment, Rendi brushed his face against it, closing his eyes.

Rendi brought the horses to the duke’s men, who harnessed some to the carriages and readied others for riding. The duke idly waited, as did Peiyi and Master Chao—
who stood to give their farewell salute. Rendi took a deep breath and approached the duke.

“Excuse me, honorable duke?” Rendi bowed. He felt the eyes of Peiyi and Master Chao on him.

“Yes, boy?” the duke said with a slight annoyed edge to his voice.

“The boy you are looking for, Magistrate Tiger’s son…” Rendi began. He could feel Peiyi edging closer, listening curiously.

“Magistrate Wang!” the duke said shortly. “I was imprudent to disclose a servant’s nickname for him. His name is Magistrate Wang.”

“Magistrate Wang’s son… you’re looking for him?” Rendi began to stutter with nervousness. “He… I… where…”

“Yes, yes,” the duke said impatiently, and he motioned a direction with his arm. “We’re going south to the City of Far Remote. I believe kidnappers have brought him there.”

“You won’t find him at the City of Far Remote,” Rendi stammered. From the corners of his eyes, he saw Peiyi frowning at him with puzzlement.

“I think I will,” the duke said. “I have the fastest horses of the land, as fast as the emperor’s. We can catch up with the kidnappers.”

“But there are no kidnappers…” Rendi tried again, his face flushing. The duke’s men had finished attaching the horses to the carriages and were opening a door for the duke to enter.

“Don’t worry,” the duke said, stepping into his carriage. He gave Rendi a patronizing smile. “I have influence in ways you cannot conceive.”

“But… but…” Rendi said, panicked, and then had to shout as the carriage began to move. “Magistrate Wang’s son isn’t in the city!”

“We’ll be fine!” the duke called from his window. He waved with a languid motion. “My men are very skilled. We are all quite capable!”

Rendi could say nothing else as the carriages and horses raced off. Too bewildered to join Peiyi and Master Chao in their customary farewell salute, Rendi simply stared. A cloud of dust, like the breath of an earth dragon, rose in the air. As it hid the carriages from view, Rendi felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

It was already late in the day when Rendi, Peiyi, and Master Chao turned back to the inn. They were quickly at work again, rushing to finish their regular chores. It was only as Madame Chang and Mr. Shan sat down to dinner when they were able to rest.

But instead of resting, Rendi stood.

“Madame Chang,” Rendi said, “I have a story I would like to tell.”

Peiyi looked at him with the same curious expression
she had given him all day, but Madame Chang did not look surprised. She nodded, and Rendi began.

T
HE
S
TORY OF
M
AGISTRATE
T
IGER’S
S
ON

M
agistrate Tiger was very proud of the prizes he received from the emperor. He filled the
gang
with water and goldfish, displaying it prominently in his formal chamber. Directly above it, on a high shelf, he exhibited the blue-and-white rice bowl on its gold stand. Whenever he had visitors, he would retell how he had answered the emperor’s impossible questions, impressing all with his wisdom.

Of course, Magistrate Tiger’s son would scowl during these narratives, which seemed to grow grander and more extraordinary each time. “He didn’t even thank us for giving him the answers,” the boy said to his sister, his lower lip jutting out. “The bowl and
gang
are really ours.”

That feeling did not lessen over time. One day, even though he was forbidden to go into his father’s formal chamber, he stood at the doorway and looked in with greedy eyes. The gold stand of the rice bowl glinted in the light. It seemed to signal to him. “I just want to see them,” he said to himself as he stepped into the room.

He walked softly to the huge
gang
. It was taller than he and wider, a bit like the vats they made wine in. But, of course, this was no plain earthenware tub. The thin, decorated porcelain was cold and smooth to his fingers, like a piece of polished jade. The boy climbed onto the shelf and looked into the
gang
. A dozen orange fish flickered in the water, like wavering flames. His reflection looked back at him with eyes full of secrets, and, above him, the gold flashed.

The boy looked up and saw the blue-and-white rice bowl, sitting silently on the gold stand. His fingers could only barely touch the bottom of the stand. He scaled the shelves, mounting the ledge above the
gang
. Could he reach the bowl? Yes!

“What are you doing?” a voice said behind him.

The boy spun around in surprise to see his sister
staring at him, openmouthed. But before he could say a word, the precious rice bowl fell from his fingers. He frantically grabbed at it, leaning and tilting, his feet slipping and…
splash
! He fell right into the
gang
!

Cold, shocking water slapped him and filled his mouth and eyes. His elbows and hands banged against the slippery walls of the
gang
, but he couldn’t find the edge. There was not enough room to swim, and when the bottom of the
gang
seemed to have vanished, he began to panic. He felt as if invisible arms had seized him. He writhed and struggled, but the heavy water pressed into him, holding him. His lungs began to burn, a hot, dry, suffocating burn. He dimly heard his sister’s scream. Her small hands could not reach him, and her efforts to push the heavy
gang
over were futile. She would have to get help, he thought as blackness began to overtake him. But it would be too late. He was drowning, drowning…

Crack!
Suddenly, water rushed away from his face, and he was on the floor, coughing and choking. His sister was by his side, lifting his head as he wheezed and panted for air. Sweet, delicious air! The darkness
in his eyes began to fade, and he saw what had happened.

Unable to reach him, unable to overturn the
gang
, and afraid to run for help, his sister had grabbed an inkstone from the table and had smashed it into the
gang
. The delicate porcelain had cracked like an eggshell, and she’d broken a hole in it to free him. She was so smart! He looked at her with gratitude.

“
What has happened?!
” a roar echoed through the room, and both children gasped. Their father!

Magistrate Tiger’s sharp eyes scanned everything—the bedraggled boy coughing on the floor, the white-faced girl, and the fallen rice bowl next to the boy. He saw the pool of water, the dying fish, and then the broken shards of his precious, prized
gang
.

“MY…
GANG
… MY…” he stuttered, and his roars slowly turned to a thunderous wail as he rushed to the broken
gang
, grabbing pieces of it in disbelief.
“Broken!”

“I did it,” the girl said, her voice quavering.

“To save me!” the boy said quickly. “I was drowning…”

“I DON’T CARE!” Magistrate Tiger shouted, his bellows a mixture of anguish and anger. “MY
GANG
! GIVEN BY THE EMPEROR…!”

“We’re sorry!” the girl whispered, beginning to sob.

“SORRY? ONLY SORRY? YOU USELESS WORMS!” Magistrate Tiger’s fury began to explode like a thousand bursting firecrackers as he clutched at the shards of the broken
gang
. “THESE PIECES ARE WORTH MORE THAN YOU!”

The girl trembled like a kite caught in a typhoon, but the boy was strangely still, his eyes darkening. It was as if a smoldering red coal had finally burst into flames inside him. His father had seen him half drowned on the floor, yet he had run first to the broken
gang
. Black bitterness gripped the boy, and a rage that matched his father’s filled him. His mother had lied! His sister had lied! Everyone had lied! His father did not roar and lie and cheat for him. His father did not care about him! In fact, he cared more about the shattered
gang
. Suddenly, he hated all of them. He hated everything. He hated his mother, his sister, his father,
his home. He wished everything would disappear. He wished he could disappear.

And with that thought, the boy scooped up the wet but unharmed rice bowl and stood. Without another word, he walked out of the room, leaving the roars and sobs behind.