The Moon Pearl

by Ruthanne Lum McCunn

  Day by day, month by month, Yun Yun gained flesh and strength. Her hair stopped falling out.

  The seeds her husband planted in her didn’t grow, however.

  By spring Yun Yun’s motherin-law was calling her a broken pot.

  Yun Yun herself was beginning to worry that her husband’s assaults might have harmed her as well as their babies. Or perhaps she’d been damaged by her in-laws’ brutal beatings, the long months of starvation.

  In truth, she feared her belly might never again swell with child.

  Mercies

  WHETHER ROOSTER had prompted the abbess of Ten Thousand Mercies to write her parents, Mei Ju did not know. The very same day Big Mouth delivered the letter, though, she knew its contents from the gossips.

  The abbess praised Rooster’s parents for the good family teaching that had led their daughter to renounce marriage and choose spinsterhood. Moreover, the abbess claimed Rooster’s intelligence and devotion had already proven a blessing to Ten Thousand Mercies Hall. In closing, the abbess predicted that Rooster’s prayers would raise her brother high, and Laureate would bring honor, power, and wealth to his family, his clan, the entire village.

  Happily, this prophecy—and Rooster’s role in it—restored not only Laureate but his sister to favor. A few people even lauded Rooster for the commitment she’d made to a life of chastity before shaving her head to become a charity spinster. And it seemed to Mei Ju that, in time, this praise for Rooster’s spinsterhood softened the talk against Shadow and herself a little.

  The talk didn’t stop, though, and when they began shoring up the hut against the spring rains, more than one heckler suggested they would do better to shave their heads and join Rooster at Ten Thousand Mercies.

  “If only they would show more mercy,” Mei Ju sighed. “I’d hoped we’d get hired as reelers when the new silk season begins, but feelings against us are obviously still too strong.”

  Shadow tossed her head. “Now that our earnings from embroidery have increased, we don’t need to go back to reeling. Not this season. Not ever.”

  “I want to.”

  Instantly Shadow dipped her head in remorse. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Mei Ju wanted to soothe Shadow’s distress by murmuring, “It’s alright.” But her tongue, heavy as her heart, refused to utter the lie.

  Yet Mei Ju didn’t begrudge Shadow her determination to remain in Strongworm. Mei Ju just wished Shadow’s family—at least her brother—would stop her suffering by reconciling with her.

  Since Shadow could not speak to her family directly, she searched for news of them like a fisherman trawling the river for fish, dragging her feet when she walked past gossips, sometimes even pretending she was tired and had to rest a moment.

  She knew, then, that Elder Brother—claiming, “Our family is growing, our income must grow too”—had persuaded Baba to lease three more fields so they could increase the number of silkworms they raised. And Elder Sister-in-law had weaned the baby so she could return to working in the wormhouse, reeling silk.

  “Let me feed and wash and dress and comfort and teach your baby like you fed, washed, dressed, comforted, and taught me,” Shadow wanted to ask Elder Brother. From the way he’d snatched his daughter from her at New Year, however, Shadow already knew what his answer would be.

  Less than two months into the silk season, Elder Sister-in-law, her belly swelling with a new baby, was forced to quit the wormhouse.

  “My family has to accept my help now,” Shadow said.

  Mei Ju chewed her lip worriedly.

  “I won’t ask to take care of my niece,” Shadow assured her. “Not yet. I’ll offer to reel their cocoons and work in the wormhouse.”

  But when she saw her family’s front door closed tight despite the late spring heat, Shadow fretted that they’d seen her coming and shut it against her. Only her hope—nay, her need—for a reconciliation kept her from running.

  As she came closer, Shadow heard her niece crying, realized the door was more likely closed to keep out drafts that might harm her. Even so, Shadow decided to go in without knocking, as she had at New Year. That way, she couldn’t be refused entry.

  Opening the door and stepping from bright sunlight into the common room, she was blinded by the darkness, and while she was still blinking and straining to see, it seemed to Shadow she could smell sickness, hear it in the baby’s whining and crying, in Elder Sister-in-law’s desperate attempts to quiet her.

  “Isn’t it enough that you marked your niece while she was in her mother’s belly and made your brother ill?” Mama demanded.

  Squinting through the dimness at the room’s disorder, Shadow found her mother seated alone at the table in front of a half empty bowl of rice, her hair frazzled, her eyes smudged black, her face shiny with sweat.

  “Elder Brother’s ill?”

  “He’s burning with fever. What worse trouble have you brought us?”

  “I’ve come to help,” Shadow stammered.

  “Help, hah!” Mama threw down her chopsticks so hard they bounced off the table and clattered onto the floor. “Before you turned Heaven and earth upside down, we enjoyed good fortune. Then our grandchild came out a sickly girl. Next thing we know, your brother is sick too. And if the baby doesn’t stop that racket, the worms will sicken as well. Get out before you do us more harm.”

  As Mama railed, Shadow crossed the room, started stacking the dirty bowls and dishes to demonstrate her goodwill.

  “Are you deaf?” Mama stormed, pushing herself up from the table. “Out! Get out!”

  Back with Mei Ju, Shadow sobbed, “I didn’t want to go. But Mama was shaking, she was so upset, and I was afraid I’d do more harm by staying. So I did leave. I had to.”

  Her throat choked with distress, Shadow could say no more. Mei Ju pulled her close, stroked her hair, her back.

  But Shadow couldn’t be comforted. “I didn’t harm my family knowingly.”

  “You didn’t harm them.”

  “Mama …”

  “Your mother’s tired and frightened. But your brother will be well again in a day or two, and once your mother gets a chance to rest and realize the family hasn’t overreached itself with the additional fields and trays of worms, she’ll regret what she’s said. She probably regrets it already.”

  Shadow wanted to believe Mei Ju. But anxious over Elder Brother and the strain his illness must be placing on their parents, Shadow made a large pot of red date tea that was good for building up blood and strength, took it to them.

  This time it was Baba who met her at the door, and he refused to let her in. Nor would he accept the clay pot Shadow held out to him.

  Without any other means of getting information about Elder Brother’s illness or how the rest of the family was faring, Shadow listened even more carefully to the gossips.

  Most people seemed to think Elder Brother’s illness—whether from Heaven’s displeasure over her unfilial behavior or some other cause—was mild, that the family’s greater problem was picking and preparing sufficient mulberry leaves to feed the worms, keeping their trays clean, expanding the number of trays as the worms grew so they wouldn’t become overcrowded and suffocate.

  “Hiring a laborer for the wormhouse and fields would ease the burden.”

  “But eat up any chance of a profit.”

  “Trying to continue without help can lead to worse trouble.”

  “Yes. Sickness in the old man or the old lady from overwork.”

  “I tell you, they’d best accept they’ve lost their gamble for more money.”

  “I agree.”

  Mei Ju dismissed such talk as exaggerations. “I distinctly heard the herbalist himself say the diagnosis is a mild but recurring fever. Your brother will be up and working again soon.”

  “Elder Brother hasn’t been out of the house—perhaps not even out of bed—for over a month now, and there’ve been times when the fever’s heat has affected his senses and he’s shouted wildly. We’ve both heard
him. Hnnnh, is there anyone in the village who hasn’t? Surely that’s serious, not mild.”

  “Surely when it comes to your brother, you’re so soft you make bean curd seem hard,” Mei Ju came back.

  “Don’t be angry,” Shadow pleaded. “I want to send for Master Choy.”

  Mei Ju stared at Shadow as though she’d lost her reason. “The herbalist in the market town that came and cured the district magistrate’s son?”

  Shadow nodded.

  “How do you expect to pay for him?”

  “I can’t,” Shadow admitted, her voice so low she could scarcely hear it herself. “Not alone. But if we use all our savings, we should have enough to cover one visit and a prescription.”

  “Your father wouldn’t accept the red date tea you made for Elder Brother,” Mei Ju reminded.

  “I’ve thought about that. But neither Baba nor Mama will turn Master Choy away. Not if he’s already at their door. And if I write Master Choy, they won’t know he’s coming until he is at their door.”

  “After he comes to us for payment, your parents will realize you sent for him, and everyone will know you have book learning,” Mei Ju warned. “Elder Brother’s part in your learning is bound to come out, and then he’ll be in trouble with your parents too.”

  “But he’ll be alive.”

  “He’d be alive anyway, and if you think your family is angry with you now …”

  “I’d rather risk their added anger than Elder Brother’s death.”

  Mei Ju fetched brush, inkstone, and paper, laid them on the table. “Then let’s get started on the letter.”

  Quickly Shadow poured water onto the inkstone, ground ink. “If we hurry, we can get a water peddler who’ll take our letter to Master Choy today.”

  A Stranger

  THE LOCAL HERBALIST insisted Shadow’s brother had never been in danger. “Even his delirium was nothing more than the fever taking its natural course. There was never any doubt that he’d make a full recovery.”

  But Master Choy claimed he’d saved Elder Brother from certain death. “Another day’s delay and I couldn’t have helped him either.”

  The gossips’ tongues wagged long and hard, speculating on which claim was the more accurate, how Shadow had learned to write, whether Mei Ju had book learning too, the exact cost of Master Choy. What mattered to Shadow, however, was that Elder Brother was no longer ill. Moreover, once he returned to work, their parents’ burden would lighten, and if there was no big wind or sudden contagion, Elder Brother could yet win his gamble to increase the family’s income.

  Hoping to catch a glimpse of Elder Brother on his way to the fields, Shadow set her stool and embroidery frame just inside the door. But with every copper gone to pay Master Choy, she felt pressed to complete the commissions in hand, and unable to embroider with only one eye on the frame, Shadow’s surveys of the road were neither frequent nor prolonged. Indeed, she might have missed Elder Brother had he not come to the door.

  She’d waited nineteen long months for this moment, and soon as she recognized his tread on the path, Shadow leaped from her stool, intending to run out and greet him. Suddenly, strangely shy, however, she stopped at the threshold.

  “What is it?” Mei Ju, outlining a pattern at the table, asked.

  “Elder Brother.”

  At Shadow’s salutation, Elder Brother’s sallow cheeks colored, and when she invited him in to rest, drink a bowl of tea, he refused awkwardly. Dismayed at his discomfort and her own, Shadow searched for something she could say that would ease them both.

  “I won’t ever forget what you did,” Elder Brother added in a voice thick with emotion. “Neither will our parents. Mama’s expecting you to come for evening rice, so she and Baba and Elder Sister-in-law can thank you as well.”

  Had she heard correctly? Quickly, before he could say anything different, Shadow accepted. “I’ll come early and help.”

  “Good.”

  She turned, drew Mei Ju into the doorway beside her. “Without Mei Ju’s contribution, I couldn’t have paid Master Choy.”

  “Then I owe you …” Elder Brother began.

  “Nothing,” Mei Ju finished for him. “If not for you, we wouldn’t have been able to write Master Choy.”

  At the word “we,” Elder Brother’s eyes flashed fire. But when he spoke, his tone was so cold it chilled Shadow to the marrow.

  “You did teach your friends.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mei Ju breathed, shrinking close to Shadow.

  Shadow, her throat squeezed tight at the speed and intensity with which Mei Ju’s slip had refueled her brother’s anger, willed herself to force out, “I’m not.”

  Elder Brother’s nostrils flared. His fingers curled into fists. Abruptly, however, he raised both arms and, his knuckles cracking, locked his hands together in the traditional expression of gratitude to Mei Ju. “I will ask Baba to invite you and your family to a banquet to celebrate my recovery.”

  Dizzy with relief, Shadow thanked her brother.

  “You really don’t need to go to such expense,” Mei Ju told him.

  “On the contrary,” Elder Brother said. “My parents and wife and I have an obligation to meet, and you may rest assured we will.”

  Shadow recognized that Elder Brother’s attempt to effect a reconciliation between Mei Ju and her family was, at heart, a peace offering to herself. But when Shadow, arriving home for evening rice, found the front door wide open, the memory of her previous visits was still too raw for her to consider going in without announcing her presence.

  Timorously she called, “Mama. Elder Sister-in-law.”

  Inside the common room, Elder Sister-in-law didn’t look up from untying her meh dai, lowering her daughter onto the floor. Nor did Mama, who was helping Elder Sister-in-law, respond.

  Hadn’t they heard? Or were they deliberately ignoring her? More anxious than ever, Shadow tried again.

  “Mama. Elder Sister-in-law.”

  This time they both returned her greeting. Yet Shadow feared she’d somehow upset them, for Elder Sister-in-law was unaccountably bundling up the meh dai she’d been using, passing it to Mama, who slipped it behind the family altar. Then Shadow, stepping inside, noticed the meh dai she’d embroidered for them on the table, understood Elder Sister-in-law and Mama had been about to switch.

  “I’m too early,” Shadow apologized.

  Mama, despite eyebrows crossed in consternation, protested otherwise. Little hands tugged at the hems of Shadow’s pants. Looking down, she saw her niece pulling herself up with a strength that belied her spindly arms.

  “Wah,” Elder Sister-in-law exclaimed. “She doesn’t usually take to stran …”

  The unfinished word pierced Shadow’s heart all the more for being true. She was a stranger to her niece. She didn’t even know the child’s name since she’d never heard anyone use it. Nor could Shadow think of the right words to ask for the name now.

  Having hoisted herself upright, the baby hugged Shadow’s left leg. And at the tender warmth of the child’s touch, Shadow’s hands ached to reach for her. Still mindful of how Elder Brother had snatched his daughter from her, however, Shadow didn’t even dare smile at the girl without some sort of signal from Elder Sister-in-law or Mama that they wouldn’t do likewise.

  “Didn’t I say you’d marked your niece while she was in her mother’s belly?” Mama laughed.

  Uncertain of her mother’s meaning but emboldened by her laughter, Shadow swooped up her niece—was pierced anew by the child’s bony frame. Holding the babe so they were face to face, Shadow nuzzled the pinched cheeks, the sparse, downy hair. The baby, crowing with pleasure, blew wet bubbles, clumsily clasped Shadow’s long braid, which had fallen forward when she’d leaned down, pulling loose strands of hair.

  “Don’t make a mess of Auntie,” Elder Sister-in-law scolded.

  “I don’t mind,” Shadow said. “I’m glad of the chance to carry her.”

  Elder Sister-in-law picked up the meh dai on
the table. “Here, use this.”

  Shadow, preferring to cradle the child, shook her head.

  “Your arms will get tired,” Mama warned.

  “I don’t mind,” Shadow repeated.

  Indeed, her only regret was when she had to return her niece to Elder Sister-in-law at the evening’s end.

  Although Shadow’s family had been cordial to her during her visit home, the only heartfelt affection had come from the baby, and at the end of the evening, no one had asked her back. Nor had any of them responded to her parting offer, “Please, come visit Mei Ju and I when you have time.” They did acknowledge both Mei Ju and herself when they passed in the street, however. And when Elder Brother stopped by to report Mei Ju’s family had refused the invitation to the celebration banquet, he seemed genuinely sorry.

  Shadow and her brother were standing at the threshold of the hut, Mei Ju watering the vegetables in the back. Taking advantage of her absence, Shadow asked Elder Brother to invite Mei Ju’s former employer, Master Low, to the celebration banquet.

  “Have you taken leave of your senses? Why would a big landlord like Master Low come when Mei Ju’s own family won’t?”

  At her brother’s harsh tone, Shadow’s heart quailed, but she forged on. “If Mei Ju hadn’t sacrificed her desire to work as a reeler for mine to remain in Strongworm near you, we would have moved to town after Rooster left. Then we wouldn’t have been here when you fell ill. And you did say you wanted to repay Mei Ju for saving your life. So, since you used to play with Master Low’s son, I thought you could get Young Low to convince his father.”

  “Say I can. Don’t you think it would be a little obvious to have Master Low and his wife as our only guests?”

  “You must have other friends who can persuade their fathers to come. And if these fathers also employ silk reelers, that would improve Mei Ju’s chances of returning to the work she loves.”

  Sisters

  SHADOW had been uncertain whether anyone would accept her brother’s invitations to the celebration banquet. But the two tables in their family courtyard included Master Low and two minor landholders and their wives, and Mei Ju, seated beside Shadow, shone with hope. Worried whether that hope would be realized, Shadow was glad of her little niece’s cheerful presence on her lap.