The Dreamweavers

by G. Z. Schmidt

  “Perhaps we can speak to her in our dreams,” Yun suggested, but Grandpa shook his head.

  “From what you’ve told me, I’m afraid Lotus’s case is particularly unique,” he said. “You must be physically present in her dream chamber to speak with her. She is a relic in time, after all.”

  Mei looked out the window at the sky. Lightning streaked against the dark night. The magical cloud that had transported them had vanished into the sky’s swirling storm.

  “Now’s a great time for the Jade Rabbit to help us,” she sighed.

  “The Jade Rabbit hasn’t talked to us since that first day in the City of Ashes!” said Yun. “Don’t get me wrong, it did help transport us here, which we’re grateful for. But I’m beginning to wonder whether it’s sitting back watching us in amusement.”

  “Yun, dear Yun,” said Grandpa with a slight shake of his head. “Think of the number of people in the Imperial City alone. Now think of all the people in the other cities and villages across China. You are not the center of the Jade Rabbit’s world.”

  He rearranged the blankets around his feet. “That said, I am familiar with the Jade Rabbit. More than most, I’d say.”

  The twins exchanged a triumphant look. “We knew it,” said Mei. “You’re Lotus’s son, aren’t you?”

  Grandpa didn’t speak for several long moments. “I figured it out only moments ago, after you told me what had happened,” he finally said in a low voice. “It all makes sense now. In the few times the Jade Rabbit and I have crossed paths—always in dreams, mind you—it was always as if the creature was...checking on me. It was in dreams that the rabbit reminded me of the gifts I’d been given, and to do good with them. I was never told the specifics of my lineage during these encounters, likely for the same reason I never told you the truth about your own parents. Ignorance, Mei and Yun, is often bliss—but it is the easy way out. Truth is difficult. I am saddened to learn what happened to my parents, and it may take a while for me to process. That said, I’ve led a good life. It does not define me any more than it defines you.

  “Remember, I did not receive my powers from Lotus. Those came after I was born. And my powers—and yours, through your mother—came from the Jade Rabbit itself. I suppose it makes sense the source was the same, and why the powers are similar. Although mine did not have the colossal potential that Lotus’s had, they were nonetheless impactful. People often underestimate the power of dreams, of emotions and fears. They’re inside us, living alongside the physical world.”

  “Like yin and yang,” finished the twins.

  “Precisely.”

  “So...” said Mei after a moment of silence. “If the Jade Rabbit was your, um, de facto guardian, can you summon it?”

  Grandpa smiled. “Let me try. First, I must fall asleep.”

  The twins waited patiently. Soon, their grandpa was snoring lightly, but nothing happened. Just as Mei started to grow fidgety and Yun started to grow bored, a pool of moonlight filled the center of the kitchen. Moments later, the Jade Rabbit emerged before them.

  “Greetings, children,” it said. “I hear from a trusted source your task was successful. Are you up for one last trip?”

  Mei and Yun peeked over the edge of the cloud. Home wasn’t far now. They could see the familiar outline of the mountains by their village. Bit by bit, they could see the Pearl River between the hills. They approached the gloom encircling the City of Ashes. As their own cloud drifted into the mist, the moon slowly faded from view and disappeared from the sky. It had been ten days since their departure from their village. The curse was still in place.

  The cloud floated above the Temple of Fire, near the top of the stairs. Mei and Yun jumped off with their belongings. The ghostly hooded figures were still there, standing in the same spots they’d been days ago, as if time wasn’t a concern. It likely wasn’t to them.

  The twins entered the temple and made their way up to the second landing where Lotus’s dream chamber was. The single dancing flame flickered in the dark room. They walked toward the pillows and laid their heads on them. Moments later, they were asleep.

  Sunlight flooded the chamber. Mei and Yun found themselves standing before Lotus.

  “You’ve returned,” Lotus said calmly. “I’ve been waiting.”

  “We did it.” Mei dug into her bag and took out a scroll.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a decree from the emperor,” said Yun. He read,

  “Gardener Wong of the defunct City of Blossoms was wrongly accused of treason. He was framed by one of the members of our rank, the Noble General. Effective immediately, his name will be cleared of all crimes, and the public shall remember him as the kind gardener who brought beauty to this world.

  In addition, the palace has made public once again its impressive collection of poems, in honor of Gardener Wong’s wife, Lotus, distinguished poet of the City of Blossoms.

  Signed,

  The Emperor of China”

  Stamped beneath was the dragon seal of the emperor. Lotus took the scroll and read it again silently. Then again. She couldn’t seem to believe it.

  “How?” she finally said in a hoarse voice.

  Once again, the twins explained the entirety of their adventures in the Imperial City. “It wasn’t easy,” admitted Mei. “But we had lots of help.”

  “One of the kids who helped us was the great-grandson of the Noble General,” Yun mentioned.

  Lotus blinked. “Interesting. Why did he decide to help you?”

  Yun shrugged. “The palace children are not that different from us, really.”

  “Now for your end of the deal,” said Mei. “Lift the curse.”

  Lotus’s hands tightened against the scroll so that her knuckles turned white. The scroll trembled. “I don’t know if I can,” she murmured.

  “What do you mean?” asked Yun. “Certainly you can lift the curse.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” Lotus said again. “Not after all these years. It’s easier to remain as I am, as the vengeful poet who burned down an entire city with her words.” She lowered her head. “It’s easier to do that, rather than admit I was a fool bent on revenge. In that sense, I fear the Noble General bested me in the end.”

  Yun opened his mouth to protest, but Mei elbowed him. They waited as Lotus walked across the chamber to study the painting with the blossom trees.

  “I had a choice,” Lotus said softly with her back to them. “There’s an old proverb: endure one moment of anger, and escape a hundred days of sorrow. I could have chosen a peaceful life for me and my son. I’ll never know what became of him.”

  “But he’s alive!” interrupted Yun.

  Lotus stiffened. She faced them and said, “What did you say?”

  “Your son is alive,” joined in Mei. “He’s...he’s our grandpa.”

  It was not the kind of first meeting one usually has with their great-grandmother. Lotus stared at the twins with a mixture of shock and anger. She studied their faces more, looked closely until she recognized her own features in them. Slowly, her surprise melted into relief and sadness.

  “You’re telling the truth,” she whispered.

  “We should have revealed that earlier,” Yun said sheepishly. “We figured out we were related when we were in the Imperial City.”

  “Where is my boy now?” Lotus asked urgently. “How is he? Has he lived a good life?”

  “Yes, Grandpa has always been cheerful,” said Mei. “Even when life gets hard, he sees the silver lining. Like when Grandma passed away, he says he still sees her in his dreams.”

  Tears welled in Lotus’s eyes and trickled down her cheek. “And what about his own children?”

  “Our mother,” answered Yun quietly. “She is your granddaughter.”

  “You told me your parents came here. Are they still in the city?”

  The twins nodded. “Along with many other families,” added Mei.

  Lotus seemed to be rendered speechless. She then clasped her
hands and turned to the painted scrolls on the wall. “A human flows downstream and remains dust forever,” she whispered.

  Then she said with the trace of a smile,

  “Yet from the dust rises

  New life, the seedling of a flower,

  And it blooms lovingly until

  The entire field shines with its splendor.”

  The poet no longer looked upset or angry, but calm. Peaceful.

  A sudden gust of wind shook the walls. “What is happening?” said Lotus, bewildered.

  The shaking extinguished the light in the chamber, plunging everything into darkness. Mei and Yun grabbed each other’s hand. They both opened their eyes wide but couldn’t see a thing. Everything around them was pitch black. For a moment, the twins wondered if they’d lost their vision.

  Then wisps of colored dreamclouds sprung up here and there, sparkling threads within the mists bursting in yellows, purples, blues. Like fireworks, only there was not a peep. The twins huddled together, their eyes fixed on the bright colors that surrounded them.

  The chamber returned to its original state. The paintings were slashed, the gildings tarnished. The only thing different was that the flame in the corner was gone.

  Mei and Yun glanced wordlessly at each other, then raced back downstairs and out into the moonlight.

  The city buildings were still as desolate as before, broken and partially ruined. Only now, the streets were filled with people. Real, solid people. Men and women and children walked down them, calling to one another, laughing, chatting.

  A shimmering white light appeared before them. For the first time, the Jade Rabbit bowed before them.

  “Thank you, children. I think it is time for you to go home.”

  For almost a year after, villages and towns across China gossiped about a series of unusual incidents that had been happening across the country. Long-lost family members and friends suddenly reappeared, some who had been gone as many as fifty years, apparently showing no signs of aging. These people were utterly surprised at the others’ claims that they’d disappeared for years on end, and insisted they were surely mistaken. There were also reports about a cursed city being restored deep in the mountains, and how several prominent officials, including a prince, babbled in riddles for three days before being inexplicably cured. Whether these stories were pure fantasy or real, no one but those who knew the truth could say.

  Around the same time, the unusual weather hovering over a small village beside the Pearl River returned to normal. That was the day Mei and Yun returned. They were greeted by frantic hugs and shouts of concern. Madam Hu whipped up a bowl of her famous soup dumplings to warm the twins up.

  Madam Hu then led the village in an effort to appeal for Grandpa’s release.

  “We acted terribly,” she said to the nodding villagers. “Old Wu has always been there for us, through thick and thin. Why, it’s simply nonsensical that he should be arrested!”

  Unfortunately, as all the farm animals had died from the sudden snowstorm, there was nothing fast enough to deliver the appeal to the emperor. Fortunately, Elder Liu revealed he’d been keeping a flock of carrier pigeons he’d kept warm and well fed in the back room of his house. Despite the twins’ protests that it really wasn’t necessary, he volunteered his best and strongest pigeon, which managed to fly to the Imperial City in record time. It flew back with a note from the emperor pardoning Grandpa. It also brought two small wrapped gifts—one for Mei, one for Yun—both signed From the Princess of Weaponry. Inside Mei’s package was a tiny ceremonial dagger; the familiar decorations on the handle reminded her of the princess’s deadly chopsticks. Inside Yun’s was a pair of eyeglasses.

  Two weeks later, Grandpa returned. The entire village celebrated with an enormous feast that rivaled the Mid-Autumn Festival. Every villager pitched in with leftovers and extra food they’d scraped from their homes. The festivities lasted well into the night.

  “Grandpa, there’s something we need to tell you,” Mei said when they headed home.

  “What is it, dear Mei and Yun? It’s not about poor Smelly Tail, is it?”

  “No, no, Smelly Tail is fine,” said Yun. Indeed, the cat had been well and healthy when the twins returned from their journey. It seemed the cold weather had shooed an unusually large number of rats inside the house, which offered a steady food supply for the hungry cat.

  “It’s just that a lot of things have happened,” said Mei. “But there’s one that hasn’t...” She struggled to hide her disappointment. Next to her, Yun looked away.

  “Mm-hmm,” said Grandpa wisely. “Your parents have not returned.”

  After Lotus had restored the city, the first thing the twins had wanted to do was search the streets for their parents. But they quickly realized it wasn’t that simple. Undoing the seventy-year-old curse apparently took a while. Those who had been there earliest were the first to emerge from their dreamlike state. The twins’ parents were still frozen in line. It was like peeling an onion, layer by layer. The Jade Rabbit told them there was no way of knowing how long it might take.

  “We’ve reversed the curse,” said Yun, adjusting his new glasses. “We’ve waited. Everyone should be free now.”

  “These things take time,” Grandpa said gently. “Tell you what. Why don’t the three of us take a trip to the city tomorrow?”

  The twins hadn’t been back since their last encounter with Lotus. They’d hoped to see her again, but the Jade Rabbit had informed them that now that Lotus had found peace, she would no longer be in the dream world or the physical world. (“There is a realm beyond these worlds, where even I have no knowledge of,” the magical creature had said.) They’d kept their ears peeled for news from the city. The only notable thing that happened was a week ago, when three young travelers appeared at their village, and the ancient Elder Liu stated in shock that he recognized them. It turned out the three friends had been traveling to the village to visit the old man fifty years ago, and had stayed for what they thought would be one night at the City of Ashes but was actually half a century.

  The twins heard nothing about their parents.

  “Pack your bags tonight,” Grandpa insisted. “We’ll go first thing tomorrow.”

  Uneasiness curled in the twins’ stomachs. They reluctantly agreed, and went inside to prepare their bags.

  But it turned out they didn’t need to. Early the next morning, as the sun barely peeked over the mountains, there came a knock at the door. Grandpa went to answer it. He came back a moment later and poked his head in the twins’ bedroom. His face was unreadable.

  “Mei, Yun, there are people here to see you.”

  The twins exchanged a look. They slowly went to the door. Their hearts leapt.

  Their mother and father stood on the porch, appearing exactly as they’d looked six years ago.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  二十六

  The Dream Fishers

  None of the villagers were awake by the time a mysterious figure emerged on one of the clouds drifting above. Nor did anyone see the two smaller figures following close behind with straw baskets and porcelain jars. They sat cross-legged on the cloud, watching as the fisherman reeled in his catches and placed them carefully inside the jar. The moon illuminated these individuals, a girl and a boy.

  “Hurry, Grandpa,” the girl said. “We must get ready for the festival tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Mei’s boyfriend is coming—I wonder if he’ll bring his bamboo stick,” teased the boy.

  The girl whacked him, nearly knocking his glasses off.

  “Kidding, just kidding,” he hurried to say. “What I really do wonder is whether the princess will bring her latest invention. It sounds a bit like a catapult, but fits in the palm of your hand. I read about it in her last letter, and it made my whole body shiver.”

  “Whatever they bring, we’ll have to make the best mooncakes ever,” said the girl.

  The fisherman reeled in his rod. More glittery threads clung to the bo
ttom of the hook, golden yellow and blue as the ocean. He gently swept the threads into a jar. “They will be good, don’t worry,” the old man remarked with a smile. “Nothing but the best for our special guests from the Imperial City.”

  Down below, a man and a woman waited for the trio’s return. They bore an uncanny resemblance to the boy and girl. The man sat beside the Pearl River, reading scrolls under the moon. The woman hummed quietly to herself amidst a fog of blue; a butterfly clip glinted in her hair.

  The moon that night was nearly a perfect orb. The shadow of the Jade Rabbit winked in the sky.

  Author’s Note

  The idea for The Dreamweavers came to me in the form of a half-conceived image. I was thinking of the clouds that drift beneath the moon on a starry night, when I pictured a fisherman sitting on top of them. Suddenly I thought, What if there was a fisherman who cast his line from the clouds? And instead of fishing for fish, he was fishing for peoples’ dreams? One question led to another, and this book is the result of my search for those answers.

  My first book, No Ordinary Thing, was an ode to American history. The Dreamweavers is a letter to my Chinese roots. It’s important to keep in mind that The Dreamweavers is, above all else, a fantasy. While some parts of the book are drawn from historical fact, and while I conducted research before and during the writing process, I am by no means an expert on Chinese history. The purpose of this book is not to instruct, but to transport you to a magical new world!

  That said, here are a few more details about some of the historical, cultural, and mathematical elements of the story that you might be interested in learning more about.

  On Chinese Mythology

  While writing The Dreamweavers, I drew elements from childhood stories, including oral tales passed down to me from my grandparents. Back when I lived in Beijing, the Monkey King was one of my favorite characters, and I watched the TV show fanatically as a delighted four-year-old. It wasn’t until I’d finished the first draft of this book that I actually ordered a translated copy of Journey to the West (an enormously thick text, and that was just the first volume). In this incredible adventure novel, I learned that it was common in ancient Chinese stories for the characters to switch between the physical world and the dream world. This theme wove itself prominently into The Dreamweavers.