The Dreamweavers

by G. Z. Schmidt

  The emperor read the message out loud. “‘I snuck into the Imperial Library to help the twins. I was the one who let them roam free in the first place, instead of calling the guards on them. Do not punish them, Your Majesty.

  ‘I know the evidence reflects badly on my great-grandfather’s name. But I want Your Majesty to know, I am more than my namesake and my ancestors’ actions, however good or bad.

  ‘This is our only hope for ending this curse.’”

  Fu-Fu looked pale and scared, but he stood bravely. The twins had never seen him act so mature and wise. It was hard to fathom that less than a week ago, he was the boy who walked around with a permanent scowl on his face threatening to impale people with his stick.

  The emperor remained quiet, a calm look on his face. “Very well.” He shuffled the letters in his hand. “The way forward is clear, then. I shall command my scholars to release these to the public, and to release a public apology for the wrongful death of Lotus’s husband....”

  Mei and Yun cheered. Mei threw her arms around Fu-Fu, who blushed deep red but nonetheless seemed pleased. The emperor cleared his throat. Silence fell.

  “...if and only if you prove you’re—what did you call yourselves? Oh yes. Dreamweavers.”

  “S-Sorry, Your Majesty?” said Yun, not sure if he heard correctly.

  “I am afraid the evidence only tells one half of the truth. The other half—that in which you claim to be dreamweavers—remains to be seen. In all my years, I’ve never once had a chef who claims to use dreams as an ingredient, and I’ve hired some of the best chefs in the country.”

  Mei and Yun exchanged a look. “You want us to demonstrate our abilities?” said Mei.

  The emperor nodded gravely. “Make the same mooncakes your grandfather prepared, with dreams as the main ingredient. I expect to eat them and not feel an ounce of unhappiness.”

  Beside them, Fu-Fu started to protest. The emperor held up his hand, silencing him.

  “Be present in the banquet hall in exactly one hour. I will gather the entire royal family and the top officials.”

  The siblings were so stunned, they didn’t quite know how to react. The guards clutched their swords and walked the siblings out.

  The emperor’s instructions were carried out as quick as lightning. Within thirty minutes, the great banquet hall had been rearranged into a sort of kitchen arena, with a single table that held various bowls and measuring cups. The servants had even procured a makeshift hearth on the side, which the twins could use as a stove.

  Seated around the stage were dozens upon dozens of palace officials and royal family members. When Mei and Yun peeked in from the doorway, they nearly froze. This was ten times more nerve-wracking than the act they’d been forced to play on the night of the children’s show. Their lives were on the line this time. In fact, hundreds of peoples’ lives were at stake if they couldn’t lift the curse.

  Chef Fan fretfully helped the twins prepare behind the scenes.

  “Try not to be nervous, you hear?” he said, his fingers fumbling as he tied the twins’ aprons. “A nervous chef makes for weak flavors.”

  “It’s not that much more frightening than Dice of Destiny,” said Mei, trying to sound upbeat.

  “But we’ve never made mooncakes before,” pointed out Yun, chewing his fingernails. “Much less in front of every prince and princess and high official of China! Plus, I distinctly remember Grandpa saying the mooncakes take two days to perfect.”

  Princess Zali stopped by to wish the twins luck. She sat atop her cushion lifted by her carriers. She looked so regal and imposing that the twins almost sank into their customary bow, until the princess halted them.

  “Friends do not bow to each other,” she said. Her voice turned quiet. “My father may be hard to please, but if you just do what you did with the dumplings earlier, everything will be all right.” She looked down the hall behind them. “In fact, my latest request has just been fulfilled. I will take my leave. Good luck, Mei. Good luck, Yun.”

  As the princess was carried back to join the rest of the royal spectators, there was a scuffle behind them. A servant ran up to the group, panting. “Mei and Yun Wu?” he said to the twins.

  The siblings nodded.

  “The princess’s earlier request has been granted. Your guardian will be joining us for the spectacle.”

  Mei and Yun exchanged an incredulous look. The servant motioned down the hallway. Walking down the corridor was a group of guards. In the center of them was...

  “Grandpa!” shrieked the twins.

  His beard had grown longer, unshaved on the journey to the Imperial City, and he seemed thinner and slightly worn. His feet and hands were chained, the same way Mei and Yun’s had been in the dungeon. But it was him. He blinked at the twins. His surprise then gave way to relief.

  “Am I right to think you arrived earlier than we did?” he said in amusement. “I’ll have to tell the emperor’s son about cloud travel next time. His food wouldn’t have gotten as stale as it did during the long carriage ride.”

  After a lot of hugs, the twins started to tell Grandpa about everything that had happened. They wanted to tell him about the Jade Rabbit, about dreamweaving, about the curse. But Grandpa gently stopped them in the middle of their first sentence.

  “I understand the emperor has put you two to the test,” he said. “I will share with you a quick-and-easy recipe for mooncakes.” With that, he quickly rattled off the steps as Yun fervently scribbled the notes on a piece of paper.

  “Will they be just as good as yours?” asked Mei.

  “Yes, they will taste just as good as mine,” Grandpa reassured them. “It’s still my recipe; it’s just the one I use when I’m in a hurry. That part is simple. The challenge is making them even better, so much that they bring the eater pure happiness.”

  “We know how to do that. We found your jar of—you know.”

  “The problem is, most of it’s empty now,” added Yun anxiously.

  Earlier, the twins had tried to gather as many dreamclouds as they could. But the beginnings of the curse had cast the Imperial City in a gloom similar to their village’s, and the few dreams they could gather from sleeping people had been as turbulent as the sky above. They only had a few glistening strands to work with.

  “No, my dears,” said Grandpa urgently. “There’s more to it. Had I known the mooncakes that day were tainted by nightmares, I would have done something different at the last minute.”

  “Done what?”

  “You see, there is a way to combat the nightmares, all its anger and worries. Think about it. All nightmares stem from one thing: fear. Nightmares are when the person’s imagined worst-case scenarios present themselves as bigger than life. But a little bit of patience, and—”

  A gong echoed from the room. “Five minutes to start!” someone inside shouted. “Take your seats!”

  “Patience and...?” asked Yun.

  “And what? What else?” pressed Mei.

  But the guards got between them and pushed Grandpa along before he could finish.

  “He probably meant patience plus jokes,” piped up Chef Fan, who had been not-so-secretly listening to their whole conversation. “Cooking is an art, and as with all artists, there’s always going to be someone who dislikes your creation. Some spoiled brat who hates fish, for instance, or an adult who refuses to eat spinach. But you just laugh them off.” He clapped his large hands on the twins’ shoulders. “I have to go join the audience. Smack all those unwelcome thoughts out of your heads, you hear?”

  The chef left Mei and Yun alone in the hallway. They looked dazed.

  “Okay, for some reason, I don’t think Grandpa was going to say ‘jokes,’” said Yun, talking quickly. “We need something that counters the fear. Think. What is the opposite of fear?”

  Mei thought. “Bravery. Courage.”

  “That’ll be hard. I’ve never been particularly brave.”

  “That’s not true,” said Mei, frown
ing at her brother. “Why would you say that?”

  “You’re the brave one. Everyone knows that.” Yun was embarrassed to admit this and lowered his head. “I’m the cautious one. I wish I was never afraid of things, like you.”

  A week ago, Mei might have agreed with her brother. But now she pointed out, “Being brash and being cautious are not the same as bravery and fear. You think I wasn’t afraid when we were in the City of Ashes, or in the Temple of Fire, or when we got separated at the palace? You thought I wasn’t scared during Dice of Destiny?”

  She thought of Princess Zali’s words to her days ago, and added, “You could’ve chosen not to come on this adventure, but you did, in spite of your fear. Not once did you think of not doing this.”

  Yun had never thought of it that way. “Courage and fear,” he murmured. “They’re like two sides of the same coin, aren’t they?”

  Mei nodded slowly. “You can’t find courage unless you have a certain amount of fear.”

  Yun’s eyes lit up. “I think I figured out what Grandpa wants us to do.”

  The gong sounded again. A servant poked his head out the back door. In your places! he mouthed.

  “Ready?” Mei asked.

  “Ready,” Yun replied.

  They entered the banquet hall together. The hundreds of eyes and deafening silence that surrounded the stage made them nearly stumble. The emperor sat in the center, his face impassive. The empress sat next to him, frowning slightly as she cupped her hand protectively around the glistening phoenix seal at her waist. (No doubt she did not like seeing the thieves who’d broken into her quarters.) The twins quickly took their places at the table as a guard announced the rules. They realized with a jolt that it was the same guard who had presided over the Dice of Destiny game.

  “As per the emperor’s request, the pair of prisoners before you will prepare special mooncakes,” he announced. “They will be using their unique abilities—dreamweaving, they call it. The emperor will taste the final mooncake. If it is deemed satisfactory, then they will be released.”

  The audience nodded and murmured amongst themselves.

  “You will have two hours,” the guard told the twins. “Beginning...now.”

  If you’ve never cooked in front of hundreds of people, it may be hard to imagine the pressure Mei and Yun felt in that moment. First, imagine a room full of the strictest, hardest-to-please people (your schoolteacher from two years ago, a supervisor at the local supermarket, or the crabby neighbor from down the street). Imagine hundreds of them, sitting side by side and frowning as you stood before them. Imagine them muttering disapprovingly each time you lifted your hand or moved an inch.

  The table had been filled with various ingredients provided by the chefs. The audience watched as Mei and Yun spread black sesame seeds in a large skillet. The sesame seeds sizzled, and a strong nutty aroma filled the room, making some audience members’ mouths water.

  They watched as Mei mixed sugar and flour in a bowl. They oohed when Yun rolled the sticky dough into a perfect ball. (“I taught him a lot; he’s grown so fast, you hear?” Chef Fan could be heard weeping in the audience).

  The twins’ grandfather watched from the sideline with a determined look. At a glance, he did not seem at all worried, but if one watched him carefully, they could see his feet fidgeting slightly in their chains, and whenever he swallowed, the lump in his throat trembled.

  The audience looked on in puzzlement as the twins took a decorative porcelain jar and seemed to remove invisible things with their hands. (“It’s just like that play we saw,” one of the kids whispered.) The siblings smeared the invisible strands into the mooncakes’ filling.

  As the mooncakes baked, the banquet hall brimmed with its sweet aroma. Stomachs grumbled, and several audience members flagged down the servants and requested a late-night snack from the kitchen.

  Down in the center of the room, Mei and Yun wiped their sweaty foreheads—partly from the heat, partly from nerves. Finally, the mooncakes finished baking. They carefully removed the golden little cakes.

  “Now for the final touch,” Mei murmured to Yun. “Care to do the honors?”

  “We’ll do this together.”

  The twins closed their eyes and took a deep breath. They thought of their fears at that moment—how the babbling curse might stay if they failed to please the emperor with their mooncakes, how Grandpa might lose the trial. They then delved into another, deeper layer of more profound fears—how they might never see their parents again, how they might end up alone in the world. And it was a terribly frightening world at times. The riddling curse and the City of Ashes aside, the world also carried with it the unknown. The unknown, the twins sensed, was perhaps the most unsettling thing of all.

  But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be courageous when facing it—or any of these fears.

  They leaned in close to the mooncakes and breathed out at the same time. With that breath, they imparted this secret knowledge they shared, this tiny bite of wisdom, into the mooncakes. Although the audience couldn’t detect it, the steam that rolled off the mooncakes glowed ever so slightly—pure white, then black, then back to the regular steam that one might find wafting over a bowl of hot soup.

  “They’re ready, Your Majesty,” Yun said. He and Mei placed the gleaming mooncakes on the table and bowed.

  One of the servants quickly gathered the plate and carried it to the emperor. The room was silent as the servant sampled a cake for signs of poison. His eyebrows raised, and he gave a quick nod to indicate everything was okay.

  The emperor carefully cut into one of the crumbly mooncakes and chewed.

  He raised his head and looked at the twins, then back at the mooncakes.

  “Your Majesty?” someone piped up nervously.

  “What do you think, Father?” called Princess Zali.

  There was a long pause. A small smile spread across the emperor’s face. “Impressive,” he finally said softly. He peered at the twins and gave an approving nod. “You have demonstrated your skills.”

  As soon as he’d finished, cheers erupted from the back of the room. It was Fu-Fu and Princess Zali. They turned to each other and hugged one another. Their excitement slowly spread to the rest of the audience, who either clapped respectfully or else whistled and yelled like it was the Lunar New Year’s celebrations.

  “I want to try some, too, Your Majesty!” someone else called. Others echoed in agreement. There was then a long line as all the royal members and officials of the Imperial Palace waited to try a bite of the twins’ mooncakes.

  Mei and Yun went to the side of the room to join Grandpa. The three of them were overwhelmed, and for several moments, none of them could say anything. Grandpa wore a proud smile, and tears welled in his eyes. He started to say something, when a squawk interrupted the room.

  “Squawk! Thank you! Thank you!” Bendan poked his head out of Chef Fan’s pocket and flew off in a burst of bright feathers. He knocked over an urn, clawed the drapes on the windows, and nearly flew into one of the princess’s large hairdos, thinking he’d found a new nest. The chef yelped for the mischievous parrot to come back, with threats that he’d cook the parrot for breakfast.

  “Wait!” Mei reached into her pocket and stepped forward with an outstretched palm. In her hand was a pile of sunflower seeds.

  The parrot turned, spotted the delicious morsels, and practically dove onto her palm. Mei patted the parrot’s head gently, cooing, “There, there,” and Bendan began helping himself to the seeds without uttering a peep.

  Chef Fan’s eyes lit up. “Sunflower seeds,” he murmured. “That’s it! Sunflower seeds, you hear?” He approached the bird, who fluttered back into the air. The chef picked up one of the seeds and held it up. Bendan flew toward it immediately and rubbed his head against the chef’s wrist, making a purring noise that reminded the twins of Smelly Tail.

  “Looks like you’ve finally solved your bird problem, Chef Fan,” sighed one of the servants as he carefull
y placed the urn back upright.

  “Yes. Who knew the answer was so simple?”

  A loud snort came from behind them. They turned to the emperor, who was watching the mess while trying not to smile. “You mean after all this time, Chef Fan, you never once thought to tame the bird with food?”

  The chef burst into loud chuckles, until he bent over from laughing so hard. The servants started to laugh, too, then the royal members and the officials. Finally, Mei and Yun joined in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  二十五

  Reunion

  The successful mooncakes had given the palace the extra dosage of encouragement they needed in the light of the impending curse. Afterward, when the others had all gone to bed, Mei and Yun stayed up in the guest room the emperor had offered Grandpa and the twins. Finally, they were able to tell him the whole story: about meeting the Jade Rabbit and Lotus, about their dreamweaving adventures, about trying to end the curse.

  After the twins had recounted their adventures, Grandpa lowered his head. “As I’m sure you know, I owe you two an apology,” he said. “I’m sorry I did not reveal the truth about your parents earlier. Or the dreams, which I know you’ve been seeing your whole lives. I wanted to protect you, but I realize now that I was foolish in doing so.”

  “We understand,” said Yun. “It’s all right. If all goes well, we should see them again. The question is how.”

  Although the emperor offered them full permission to stay at the palace complex while they waited for Grandpa’s trial (he’d strongly hinted that Grandpa would go free, that the trial was merely a formality at this point), Grandpa had advised the twins to leave the palace and return to the City of Ashes to see Lotus right away. But even the emperor’s fastest horses could not make it there in less than a week.