The First Excellence: Fa-Ling's Map

by Donna Carrick

  Only a fool goes looking for a single grain of rice at a New Year’s feast.

  **

  Inside their room at the Golden Lion Hotel, Ting-lo and Adrian Harlan lay together on one of two single beds, their bodies curled in a familiar spooning position. She had finally run out of tears and shivered, not speaking, not resting, just staring into the darkness.

  Ting-lo remained a Buddhist in her heart. She understood the ways of karma. She didn’t know what she could do to alter Anna’s fate.

  When she finally drifted off, Adrian continued to fret in the darkness, afraid to move in case his wife should wake and find herself once again in the throes of their new reality.

  **

  Fa-ling paced, uncertain what she should be doing. She put her shoes on, took them off again, sat on the edge of her bed, fingered her sheet music, and finally lay down fully clothed, trying to call up music in her mind to carry her back to those dreamy clouds. The music, however, would not cooperate. Instead it jangled and clashed and finally morphed into a cacophony of shrill voices that emptied out of angry faces in an unstoppable rush.

  Xiao! It was always Xiao, behind every worry, every weakness and self-doubt. There he was, an evil and ugly presence lurking within her moments of joy and achievement, waiting to remind her who she really was.

  She finally fell asleep briefly, but again he came to her, the monster Xiao, running down the filthy streets of her mind and clutching the baby Anna in his arms, laughing all the while through yellow-brown teeth. Then the baby was no longer Anna, but transformed into Fa-ling’s own sister Daphne, Fa-dao, the one who had abandoned her ‘true path’ and stepped instead onto another roadway that was less narrow and far less certain.

  Fa-ling woke, reaching for her copy of Crime And Punishment. She knew sleep was, for this night at least, beyond her grasp.

  The night passed slowly for all of the couples. The Kitcheners woke every half hour to check on their own babies. The Gollucks stayed awake talking in animated whispers about parenting issues of immediate concern, like ‘street-proofing’ and ‘self-defence’ and other such futile attempts to keep a child safe.

  Back in her own room, Cynthia clicked the TV remote control, flicking through the Peking Operas, but her mind would not relax. It kept pulling her back to the steaming hospital laundry room where she had spent so many back-breaking hours stirring the foul bed sheets of others as she practiced her English over and over: Here we have the Great Wall of China, and here, folks, is the Heavenly Temple. Follow me please, and stay together…

  Meanwhile, Paula and Guy Kader lay with their backs to each other on their single beds, together but alone as they so often were. Guy got up frequently to check on Mei Mei, but Paula lay with her eyes firmly closed, though Guy could tell she was not asleep.

  **

  It was near three in the morning when Wu Gui-Jing’s spirit left her body and floated onto another plane, there to wait for transference into yet another body and existence that would be filled with both suffering and enlightenment.

  Wang Yong-qi had fallen asleep at her side, his hand in hers and his head resting on his arm. She died with a smile on her face, certain her husband was there to guide her and comfort her passing.

  Master Long heard Gui-Jing’s death rattle and rose from the corner of the room, where he had been keeping his vigil as both physician and spiritual counsel throughout the night. He touched Wang’s shoulder and the younger man lifted his head, dream-confused depths of sorrow still clouding his eyes.

  They woke the others: Cheng, who was snoring loudly on a mat in the kitchen; Randy, who slept fitfully on another mat; and finally Shopei, who had been given Master Long’s own room for the night.

  With the exception of Cheng, who still wore the rumpled outfit from the previous night, they all dressed quickly in their silk mourning clothes and joined Gui-Jing’s body behind the curtain. Shopei helped Long to wrap the body in fine blue silk, to ensure joy and comfort in her next life. They lit candles and joined hands briefly in silence. Then Master Long led the Ceremony of Passing, praying not only for Wu Gui-Jing, but also for the spirits of the departed Tan family, Dahui, Lim and Shopei’s beloved mother Sui.

  Then Cheng, Yong-qi and Randy gathered up the shovels from Long’s tool shed. Before the rising of that day’s sun they had dug an appropriate hole in his garden as far as possible from his vegetables and they had laid Wu Gui-Jing’s shattered body to its rest.

  Wang Yong-qi watched Shopei move around Long’s kitchen, preparing tea and breakfast for the men. Her sorrow was a well that lay still and deep, not visible at the surface.

  He thought of Fa-ling, with her sexy sleep-mussed hair and her unevenly buttoned man’s shirt. Who, he wondered, did the shirt belong to, and why did the thought make him feel so jealous? He wanted desperately to call and tell her about the events of the past night, but he knew to do so would presume an intimacy that did not exist between them.

  FORTY-ONE

  At five a.m. the phone rang on the stand beside Cynthia’s bed. She shook her head, certain the sound was a prelude to more bad news.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello, Cynthia, it’s me, Henry.”

  “Good morning, Heng-ri. Is there any news?”

  “There is. It’s good news. You had better wake the Harlans and bring them down to the desk.”

  Cynthia sprang from her bed. In less than a minute she had dressed and combed her hair. She hurried to the fourth floor and found the Harlan’s room. She paused for a moment, a sudden unsettling sense of doubt filling her mind. Could Heng-ri be trusted? What if he had made a mistake? She should have gone to the lobby first, to see for herself.

  She knocked.

  There was no answer from within, but the door opened and Adrian looked at her through rheumy, sleep-deprived eyes.

  “Is your wife awake?”

  “No.”

  “What is it, Adrian?” Ting-lo’s voice called out.

  “I guess we’re both awake,” Adrian said, stepping aside to let Cynthia enter.

  “I’ll wait in the hall,” the guide said. “You should both dress quickly. I received a call from the concierge. Anna has been recovered.”

  Ting-lo gasped, rushing to the door.

  “Are you certain?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Cynthia replied, suppressing her earlier anxiety. “Please dress and come with me.”

  “She was found by one of the night-men,” Henry explained when they joined him in the lobby. “She had been left to wander near one of the back entrances. He discovered her crying in the darkness and brought her to me immediately.” The concierge stood straight, puffing his chest out with pride.

  “You have done well,” Cynthia said, nodding at Henry.

  Ting-lo clutched Anna as if she would never let her go again. She fingered the tiny bracelet she had placed on the child’s wrist and studied her large sculpted eyes with relief, ridding herself of any doubt this really was her daughter.

  “Where is the man who found her?” Adrian asked, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “We would like to thank him.”

  “He has already left the hotel,” Henry said. “He was just finishing his shift when he found her.”

  “Please give this to him and tell him we will look for him tonight.” He passed the equivalent of more than two hundred US dollars to Henry, hoping a small portion of the money would find its way into the pocket of the man who had discovered their daughter.

  “You need some quiet time together,” Cynthia said, taking Ting-lo by the elbow. “Our group is scheduled to visit the Yiling Caves. Perhaps you three should spend the day in your room. I’m sure the others would understand.”

  “No,” Ting-lo said. “Please, Adrian. We have Anna back. Let’s just try to begin our lives as normal parents.”

  “Very well,” said Cynthia, “the bus will leave at eight-thirty. I will meet all three of you in the lobby at eight-fifteen.”

  To Heng-ri she said in Canto
nese, “Did you already call the police?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I told them all was resolved, and Baby Anna Harlan had been brought back to her parents at the hotel. They have noted her successful recovery in their records.”

  “No doubt they will be given full credit as heroes in recognition of their tremendous efforts,” Cynthia said.

  “No doubt,” Heng-ri smiled. His cousin’s sense of irony was always a treat.

  Cynthia did not wait, but immediately woke each of the couples to announce Baby Anna had been safely reunited with her family. She knew no one was sleeping soundly anyway, so she might as well do what she could to alleviate their worry.

  She debated with herself whether or not to knock on Li Fa-ling’s door. The young woman was not really part of the group. Still, she had done her best to stop the kidnappers and she had bravely spoken with the police. She deserved to have her mind put at ease.

  Fa-ling was awake when Cynthia knocked on her door. The guide wasted no time in sharing the good news about Anna.

  “Come in,” Fa-ling said. “Let me make some tea.”

  “Thank you. Will you join us for the tour of the Yiling Caves this morning?”

  “You’ve hardly slept. Will you be up to it?”

  “I can rest on the bus along with the families. Ting-lo Harlan has specifically asked that we get back to the proper routine. It will help to calm her mind.”

  “I’m glad she and Adrian are determined to put this trouble behind them,” Fa-ling said. “Unfortunately, I plan to travel to Guilin today. In fact, I was going to ask you to recommend a driver.”

  “That will take hours and cost a great deal. Are you sure you want to make such a long trip?”

  “Yes,” Fa-ling said.

  “Henry will be able to recommend a trustworthy driver. He knows Nanning much better than I do. May I ask why you want to travel to Guilin?”

  Fa-ling paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer. “I have heard,” she said, “it is a beautiful city.”

  “So it is,” Cynthia agreed.

  “The restaurant will be opening soon,” Fa-ling said. “Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

  “No, thank you,” Cynthia said. “I’ll eat something in my room and try to relax until it’s time to join the others. First, let’s go downstairs and talk to Henry.”

  **

  The dawn spread a hazy ochre hue over Shanghai, prodding the restless city into a feverish wakefulness. Wang Yong-qi and Cheng said goodbye to their new friends and headed for the city’s domestic airport. On the noisy flight back to Nanning, Yong-qi tried to doze with his head against the porthole window. Sleep was the only relief to be had from his anxiety.

  For his part, Cheng had recognised in the dying woman all that was wrong with his world: the persecution of the weak and the elderly, the poverty that could not be overcome by effort alone, the secrets at every level of the Republic’s administration. Gui-Jing’s death reminded Cheng that his elderly mother was also at risk, her stubborn faith exposing her to public humiliation, possible arrest and imprisonment.

  The thought was unbearable, provoking within Cheng an enormous sense of outrage. If he could not find a way to protect his own mother…

  The flight finally arrived in Nanning, where Yong-qi retrieved his car from the airport parking lot. The two men were silent on the drive to Cheng’s apartment. As Wang watched the older man disappear into his building, he held a mental argument with himself as to what his next course of action should be.

  At last he came to a conclusion. He drove home, showered, shaved and chose fresh clothes to wear, then made his way back to the Golden Lion Hotel.

  FORTY-TWO

  The driver spoke English well, as Henry had promised, but Fa-ling’s Cantonese was better so they communicated in Chinese instead. The roads were challenging, dragging them through mud and dust and grime into the heart of rural Asia.

  Fa-ling stared at the passing landscape. It was speckled here and there with farmers leading oxen over rich fields, beating back the relentless jungle foliage to plant edible crops of grain. The mountainous horizon teased the eyes with green-covered outcroppings shooting from the ground like enormous stalagmites. As the karst limestone formations took on increasingly stunning appearances, Fa-ling found herself spiralling further back into the tunnel of time, unable to resist the call of the past.

  She struggled to control her emotions, forcing herself to recall her high school geography class. Silver, tin and aluminium — three minerals the region was known for. Grains, fisheries, Zhuang cultural heritage and a deeply rooted sense of superstition, along with renowned hospitality in the smaller villages and farming communities.

  “Shall I take you to Elephant Trunk Hill?” Quan asked.

  “Yes,” Fa-ling said. “Afterwards I need to go into Guilin city.”

  “Very well.”

  They reached the tourist lookout and Quan parked the car. He had strict orders from Heng-ri to stay near the girl. He followed Fa-ling to the ridge and stood next to her.

  Fa-ling stared at the porous limestone elephant ‘trunk’ for which the formation had been named. It looked so peaceful, dipping into the placid waters of the Li River. Her thoughts, though, were anything but placid.

  “Let’s go,” she said, turning away.

  “There are many other beautiful lookouts,” Quan said. “I can take you to Fubo Hill, or to the Thousand Buddhas Cave.”

  “No, thank you,” she said. Suddenly she’d seen enough of mountains, and of this river for which she had been named. Its surface was deceptive and coy, pretending to be calm and soothing, luring unsuspecting hearts and minds towards its motherly arms.

  It was not, however, a mother, nor was it gentle. It was a river. When one least expected, it could rage and crash like any other river, killing anything foolish enough to underestimate its power.

  “I have business in the city,” Fa-ling said. She removed her notebook from her pack and slid the tattered map from its pages. She smoothed it against the hood of the car, tracing her finger along the squiggle representing the Li River and onward down the jumble of Guilin’s streets.

  Quan looked at the map dubiously. “Do you know the address of the place?”

  “No,” Fa-ling answered, “but I do know what it is called. Maybe we can ask directions.”

  “Very good. Once we are in Guilin we’ll ask for help.”

  They found the building without difficulty. It was more dilapidated than she remembered, and a great deal smaller. In her dreams it was massive and teeming with children of every age. That must have been a trick of the memory. The place was actually small, dingy and almost deserted.

  Certainly the playground was deserted. Fa-ling got out of the car and walked to the metal fence, staring at the ancient swings that hung idle now, swaying in the breeze, and the broken sawhorses that had been broken even back then. She felt as though she was outside of herself, like an alien from another planet.

  “Please stay here,” she said to Quan, who had joined her at the fence. “I will be inside for awhile. I need to go alone.”

  “I’ll wait at the door,” he said, pointing at the front entrance where a bench sat shedding its paint in the scorching sunlight.

  “OK.” Fa-ling took one deep breath, then another. With Quan at her heels, she climbed the steps, pausing only for a moment before opening that most hated of all doors.

  “May I help you?” the boy at the front desk said in Cantonese.

  “I am looking for Shujia,” she answered.

  “Great Aunt is busy at the moment.”

  “Then I will look around. Please tell her Li Fa-ling is here from Canada. If she can make time, then I will speak with her.”

  “You can’t go in there,” the boy said, starting after Fa-ling. She did not hesitate, and he gave up, heading instead in the other direction to get help.

  The stairs were at the back, just as she remembered. It was not a tall building, only three floors above
ground, with the kitchen, pantry, storage and help quarters all located in the basement.

  Fa-ling put her hand on the black plastic railing, feeling the banister sway loosely beneath her touch. Her feet found each of the stained wooden steps in turn, lifting her ever higher, past the second floor to the third, then down the dirty grey corridor that needed paint more badly than ever, to the little room at the end of the hall. It was a closet really, but she had shared it with Daphne for what had seemed an eternity. There, she and little Fa-dao had clung to each other against the frightening sounds of the night.

  The room was empty. Whichever lucky child lived here these days was away at school, or maybe taking lessons in the big room on the ground floor, the room where Shujia had so forcefully imparted her considerable wisdom to her eager disciples.

  No, it wasn’t fair to think of Shujia that way, with such bitterness. She hadn’t been a monster. She had done her best, Fa-ling was sure of it. The evils of the world did not begin at her feet.

  So many years had passed. Shujia was probably very old now. Besides, whatever else she might be accused of, the rigid little woman had instilled in Fa-ling an eternal love of learning. For that, if for nothing else, she was owed a debt of gratitude.

  Forgiveness is the order of the day, Fa-ling thought. If I am to see her, to look into her eyes, then my heart must be free of malice.

  She laid her hand on the metal frame of the single bed she had shared with Fa-dao. For a moment she was tempted to lie down, to hold the pillow the way she had held her precious sister, to close her eyes…

  She turned away from the bed. Shujia would soon be looking for her. She had other rooms to visit before the woman found her.

  FORTY-THREE

  It was past noon when Wang Yong-qi parked his car in the lot of the Golden Lion Hotel. His underarms were already moist under the fresh beige t-shirt. He removed his tan jacket and laid it across the seat of his car.