by Grace Lin
Mr. Shan was kneeling forlornly over the pile of shattered dishes. His head was bowed as if in mourning, and Rendi felt as if he had swallowed a cold stone.
“Is… is the toad… is it all right?” Rendi choked out.
Mr. Shan looked over at Rendi, his eyes sorrowful like those of a hurt child. “No,” he said.
CHAPTER
28
“Eerrr—ripp.” The toad gave a pitiful moan in Mr. Shan’s hands.
Its belly still flashed green from the fireflies, but it was less noticeable in the brightly lit dining room. Rendi and his rescuers were sitting at a table, and all of them looked down sadly at the toad. The tea Rendi was drinking moistened his mouth, but his throat still felt tight and dry. The night murmured grief-filled noises. Rendi had never imagined a toad could mean so much to him.
Fang and Liu had not been careful during their terrified flight out of the inn. The toad had tried to find refuge as the violent storm of plates and wine fell around it, but it could not escape Fang’s and Liu’s stomping, clumsy feet. Its back leg was a flattened, misshapen appendage.
“Can’t we fix it?” MeiLan said softly.
Master Chao shook his head. “We’ll have to cut the leg off,” he said.
“Cut it off?” Peiyi said, horrified. “You can’t cut it off!”
“We have to,” Widow Yan told them. “It will be better for the toad.”
“No!” Rendi said, shaking with a sudden fury. “You can’t!”
Peiyi and Rendi stood side by side, as if soldiers preparing for battle. Rendi clenched his teeth, and his hands had formed into fists. Madame Chang led them away from the table.
“Sometimes the best decision is a painful one,” she said to them. Peiyi looked back at the table and turned white. Rendi followed her gaze and saw Master Chao taking out his sharpest knife.
“No!” Rendi shouted, but Madame Chang stopped him before he could move. He tried to beat his fists at her, but she easily caught his hands and held them still. Her fingers, firm but gentle, were like cool water on a burn. The sky gave a sorrowful sigh.
“Rendi,” Madame Chang said, her calm eyes bringing him to stillness, “sometimes the best decision is a painful one, but it is never one made out of anger.”
Madame Chang sat him and Peiyi down, facing the windows. “Remember the story I told you of WangYi and his wife, the Moon Lady? How she took his pill of immortality and ended up on the moon? He only began to make good decisions when his anger left.”
“Did he?” Peiyi said, but she was obviously still thinking about the toad.
“Yes,” Madame Chang said.
THE STORY OF WANGYI’S DREAM
When WangYi’s wife jumped to the moon and out of reach, WangYi was very angry. In his anger, he destroyed her possessions and married new wives and forbade anyone, even his children, to mention her. But his anger did not lessen, and he could not forget her. So he had pictures painted of her as a toad and told mocking stories of her being a grotesque creature that swallowed the moon. But his laughter held no joy, and every evening he cursed the moon.
His malice at the moon seemed only to fall back upon him, for it was his nights that became cursed. When he lay down to sleep at night, he felt as if his bed were made of hot coals. He could not rest. When he did sleep, he was plagued by nightmares. He was tormented with images of screaming people, dead animals, and bloody claws. Soon, his days and nights were filled with misery.
Finally, one night, during a fitful slumber, WangYi had a different dream. In his dream, an old man sat cross-legged in front of him, as if waiting. As WangYi approached, the old man stood up and began to walk away, gesturing WangYi to follow.
The old man guided WangYi across a flat stone land, completely empty except for two palaces side by side. The palaces were splendid and magnificent, with blue tiles that shone like the sunlit sky and walls as smooth as polished jade. Both palaces were exactly the same, except for the gold signs above the doorway. One sign said MISERY and the other said JOY.
The old man led WangYi into the palace marked MISERY. When they entered, they found themselves in a grand dining room where a lavish banquet was served. A rich, savory aroma filled the air from platters spilling over with food. The long table was hidden by all the delicious delicacies—bamboo shoots finely cut like plucked chrysanthemum petals, slices of duck with crisp amber skin, golden soup, and pieces of deep red pork shining as if lacquered—and the abundance was overwhelming.
However, the room was filled with shrieks of frustration and fury, and all the guests were gaunt and thin. They all had five-foot-long chopsticks, and because the chopsticks were so long, it was impossible for the food to reach their mouths. When they tried to eat using something other than the long chopsticks, the food disappeared—it was obvious that the food could be eaten only with the chopsticks. So the guests stretched and bent, trying to maneuver food from the long sticks but always failing. They screamed and raged, whimpered and wailed, all of them starving and taunted by the plentiful feast before them.
As WangYi watched with horror, the old man beckoned him out of the palace. Without a word, the old man led WangYi into the palace marked JOY. There, they again entered a grand dining room with the same abundant feast on the table. But instead of angry wails, the room was filled with laughter. The guests here also had five-foot-long chopsticks, but they were plump and healthy, joking and smiling. WangYi was puzzled. How could they eat with those long chopsticks? Then he noticed the difference.
The guests in this palace were feeding one another!
Before WangYi could shake his head in amazement, the old man beckoned to him again. WangYi followed the old man back out to the barren plain. In front of the palaces, the old man presented to him a pair of five-foot-long chopsticks. WangYi reached for the chopsticks, but they fell from his hand. He tried to pick them up from the ground, only to realize he had no fingers—only evil claws! They were the claws of a tiger!
WangYi awoke from his dream in a panic. As he sat in the darkness, he realized he was truly alone. His subjects despised him, his family feared him, and the only one who had loved him had left him. In the palace of joy, no one would feed him. And it looked as if he was destined to be unable to feed others as well. For the first time in a long time, WangYi began to weep.
But in the morning, WangYi was a changed man. He stopped roaring and yelling. He stopped his cruel and irrational actions and began to rule with justice and mercy. And he removed all the pictures of his wife as a toad.
With each good deed he did, with each wise decision he made, he felt as if the moon shone upon him, and he used his memory of his wife as his guide. He slowly regained his people’s trust, but when they called him “WangYi the Great,” he would only look wistfully up at the moon. As he grew older, the yearning to see his wife on the moon grew even stronger. He wished to see her once more before he died. So, one night, with hair more gray than black, WangYi climbed the tallest mountain.
When he reached the top, the moon was before him, large and glowing. He saw the figure of his wife. Just as had been rumored, she was no longer a toad but was now the pale, dark-eyed Moon Lady, more beautiful than he even remembered. She stared at him, but before he could say a word, she turned in fear and began to run.
“Don’t go!” WangYi cried. “I’ve changed! I forgive you! Don’t go!”
But she was gone, and WangYi fell onto his knees, heartbroken. He knew then how much he loved her. For the first time, he was glad that he had never taken the pill of immortality, for an eternal life of missing her was more than he could bear.
“Do you truly forgive her?” a voice said.
WangYi looked up and saw an old man sitting in front of him cross-legged, a book in his lap. The old man from his dream!
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 gree
n 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.
CHAPTER
29
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.
CHAPTER
30
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.
THE STORY OF MAGISTRATE TIGER’S SON
Magistrate 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.
