A ROC BOOK
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ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.
First Printing, March 2003
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © Leah Cutter, 2003
All rights reserved
Cover art by Mark Harrison
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Printed in the United States of America
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To Amy, Charlotte, and Rachel—
the original inspirations for Xiao Yen
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Nickname Meaning Relationship to Xiao
Yen/Description
Wang Tie-Tie/
Mei-Mei Auntie Wang, Plum
Blossom Aunt from father’s side
Xiao Yen Little Sparrow; Xiao also
means filial piety
Fu Be Be Mama Fu (Fu as in
Teacher) Mother
Gan Ou Lotus Blossom Older sister
Han Wanju Lovely Toy Cousin
Ling-Ling Dragonfly Cousin
Master Wei Teacher
Fat Fang Fang as in square, same
Fang as in Bao Fang Classmate, Fifth son of
governor of Bao Fang
Long Yen Dragon Eye Classmate, Youngest son of
head of Weavers’ Guild
Bing Yu Ice Jade Friend, Sister of Fat Fang
Bei Xi White Petal Friend, Sister of Nügua
Jhr Bei Sister to Bei Xi
Udo Foreigner
Ehran Udo’s half-brother
Frauke Udo’s love
Vakhtang Northern barbarian warlord
Young Lu Wang Tie-Tie’s younger sister
Tuo Nu Northern magician
Zhang Gua Fisherman, Immortal
Lao
Midnight Rat
2 A.M. Ox
4 A.M. Tiger
6 A.M. Hare
8 A.M. Dragon
10 A.M. Snake
Noon Horse
2 P.M. Sheep
4 P.M. Donkey
6 P.M. Rooster
8 P.M. Dog
10 P.M. Pig
Pronunciation
This was not included in the book; however, since the story takes place in China, the pronunciation of several names may be hard to figure out if you aren’t familiar with the language. So here’s a little help sheet for the less obvious:
Xiao Yen Shee-oww Yehn
Tie-Tie Tee-eh Tee-eh
Jhr Xi Jurr Shee
Nü-gua Nyuu-gwaah
Fat Fang Faht Fahng
Xian Shee-ehn
Glossary
This was also not included in the book; here are translations of some terms used yet undefined in the book:
li (lee) — a half kilometer
qi (chee) — One of the “Three Treasures” in Chinese medicine; Spiritual energy/energy flow
shen (shuhn) — One of the “Three Treasures” in Chinese medicine; Mental energy/spirit
jing (jeeng) — One of the "Three Treasures" in Chinese medicine; Essence of life/life force
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Mei-Mei paused at the gate of the abandoned kiln and called out, “Is anyone there?”
No one answered.
She looked up and down the dirt road again. It was empty. Not many merchants traveled the trade routes since the Tibetans sacked Xian, the capital of the Middle Kingdom. Farmers only came to her city, Bao Fang, on market days. But bandits, soldiers—or worse, foreign soldiers—could appear at any time. Cold shouzhi walked down Mei-Mei’s spine in spite of the summer sun beating on her head.
Maybe she should just leave the basket of cakes for her sister and run back home. Mei-Mei had always been accompanied by someone when outside Bao Fang’s walls, either her mother, her siblings, or her nurse. This was the first time she’d gone beyond any of the city gates by herself.
But the cakes would spoil in the heat, and she wouldn’t see Young Lu. Mei-Mei made herself call again, her voice barely rising above the chorus of cicadas hidden in the grass.
No response.
Was she at the right building? She thought so. It was the first kiln outside Bao Fang. Abandoned kilns made fine houses for those who weren’t allowed to live inside the city walls. This one was in much better shape than its neighbors: the yard had been raked; a small altar, dedicated to Kuan Yin, goddess of mercy, stood next to the door; and a geomancer’s mirror decorated with red and green ba gua hung over the entrance, protecting those inside from evil spirits. At the same time, the white building had been patched with plain mud, and garbage lay piled as high as the garden wall.
A soft clank came from inside the kiln, the sound of a lid being placed on a teapot. Mei-Mei crossed the yard, then hesitated and peered into the semidarkness.
Young Lu stood on the far side of the room, her back to the door. Mei-Mei would recognize the slender figure anywhere, her long thin neck, the coltish way she tilted her head.
“Nin hau,” Mei-Mei called, using the formal greeting.
Young Lu turned around. She raised her cane above her head, holding it like a soldier’s staff. She drew in a deep breath, as if to scream, then let it out with a huff.
“Mei-Mei?” she asked.
“Nin hau,” Mei-Mei repeated.
Young Lu dropped her cane and rushed, limping, to where Mei-Mei stood. Wordlessly she hugged her older sister.
Mei-Mei returned the hug just as fiercely. Though her father had disowned his youngest daughter, and Uncle Li now called her evil, Mei-Mei still missed her.
After a moment Young Lu pulled back and scolded Mei-Mei as if Mei-Mei were the younger one. “What are you doing? You know you shouldn’t be here.” Young Lu clutched Mei-Mei’s arms while she spoke. “It isn’t safe outside the city walls. Come inside.” She pulled Mei-Mei across the threshold. “Does Mother know you’re here?” she asked.
Mei-Mei didn’t meet Young Lu’s eye. “I told her I was visiting
my sister.”
“But not that you were visiting your youngest sister, eh?” Young Lu shook her head. “What would happen if Father found out?”
Now Mei-Mei looked up. “I’m not his favorite,” she said, then covered her mouth as if hiding the source of her thoughtless words.
Bitterness tinged the edge of Young Lu’s smile. “True. He’d probably only beat you. But your reputation could be ruined if someone saw you here. Prostitutes live in the kiln next door. Why did you come?”
Mei-Mei stuttered, trying to put unaccustomed emotions into words. “It—it, it was so hot, waiting in Grandma’s room, the—the air wasn’t good. I felt . . . stifled.” She paused again.
Just after lunch, while Mei-Mei had tucked her grandmother in for her nap, her grandmother had told a story of when she’d been a little girl, taking care of a sick aunt. She’d commented on how someday, one of Mei-Mei’s descendants would take care of her.
Normally, Mei-Mei felt comforted by such stories. The cycle of death, rebirth, and life swirled by, but her place was as fixed as the stars in the king of Heaven’s crown.
Today was different. Maybe it was because she’d accompanied her mother to the White Temple that morning, to light incense for her cousins who had been killed defending the mountain passes against the Tibetans. She still remembered them leaving for battle, eager and optimistic, their naïve enthusiasm louder than their mother’s tears. They’d laughed at the change in their fortune.
While Mei-Mei had listened to her grandmother’s tale in the afternoon, she’d realized her life would never change. She’d marry, move into the woman’s compound of her husband’s house, and rarely leave. She’d have children, grow old, be revered, and die. When she thought hard about her future, the air grew thick, like a winter quilt, and threatened to smother her. So she’d had to leave.
“My xiao—filial duty—is important.” Mei-Mei held up her hand so Young Lu would let her finish. “But so is my entire family. Please,” she said, extending her basket. “It would be my honor if you would accept this inadequate token of my high esteem and regard for you.” Mei-Mei pressed the basket into her sister’s hands.
“Thank you so much,” Young Lu replied. “You don’t know how much this means to me,” she said, her voice cracking. She turned away so Mei-Mei couldn’t see her tears and indicated with her free hand that Mei-Mei should sit.
“Thank you for being my relation,” Mei-Mei said formally, kneeling on the cracked and dusty bamboo mats covering the dirt floor.
“Please, let me get you something to eat,” Young Lu said, turning back to Mei-Mei.
“No, I’m not hungry. I couldn’t eat anything,” Mei-Mei replied.
“It won’t be any trouble.”
“I just had lunch. I wouldn’t touch a bite. Really.” Mei-Mei let some iron creep into her voice. Young Lu had always been as slender as spring bamboo. Now she was even skinnier. Her cheeks were hollow, which made her cheekbones stand out, and her lips were drawn and pale. She looked more delicate than one of Master Kung’s statues, made of clay so soft it could be carved with flower petals. Mei-Mei wouldn’t put any strain on her sister’s household by eating even a little of what they had.
Young Lu nodded, her face saved, but still shamed. “Let this unworthy person at least offer you some tea,” she insisted.
Mei-Mei accepted. She had to give Young Lu some way to show her hospitality.
Young Lu limped across the floor to the back of the kiln, where a small hearth held an iron pot with a cracked lid. Mei-Mei pretended not to notice her sister’s infirmity by looking down at her lap and smoothing her silver robe, running both hands over the embroidered white cranes.
“That’s one good thing about living here in the kiln,” Young Lu said over her shoulder. “Pieces of coal are scattered all over the ground.”
Mei-Mei couldn’t help but smile. Only Young Lu could find any good in being cast out of their family, shunned by their father and mother, and forced to live outside the city walls. The kiln was tiny and filthy: it had only two rooms, the back one just large enough to hold a bed; the walls were covered with soot from a fire a former tenant had let burn out of control; and the incense Young Lu burned couldn’t hide the smell of the garbage next door. The light from the single eastern-facing window didn’t shine all the way through the front room, and didn’t bring any fresh air in with it.
On the right side of the hearth, Young Lu, or her husband, Old Lu, had installed a small wooden altar. Pasted between the flimsy split-bamboo uprights was a brightly colored picture of Zhao Wang, the kitchen god. Under the picture sat a tiny white-and-blue porcelain bowl filled with rice. It had three sticks of incense poking out of it.
Mei-Mei shook her head. How could Young Lu afford even a small sacrifice? She looked at her sister. Young Lu swayed in time to her own silent music, like ivy in a breeze. From that angle, Mei-Mei saw the bulge in Young Lu’s abdomen.
Young Lu’s gaze followed Mei-Mei’s. She brushed her fingertips across her stomach, looking more serene than the Buddha meditating under the bodhi tree.
Mei-Mei pressed her lips together in a polite smile, hiding her surprise. She wanted to know, but couldn’t ask.
Young Lu told her anyway. “Five and a half moons,” she said. She hobbled from the stove—tiny, awkward steps—and knelt next to her sister. “Isn’t it exciting? I never expected to be blessed so soon.”
Mei-Mei hugged Young Lu. “That’s wonderful! Ten thousand blessings,” she said, feeling Young Lu’s shoulder blades through her robe. She was too thin to be that far along.
Young Lu pulled back and said with a mischievous smile, “Old Lu was so happy when I told him. It made him feel more like a tiger again.”
Mei-Mei looked down at her hands, embarrassed at the shared intimacy. Young Lu struggled to get to her feet. Mei-Mei said, “Let me help you.”
Young Lu admonished her. “The guest shouldn’t serve the tea. It isn’t a problem.”
Mei-Mei gave her a skeptical look.
Young Lu continued. “I barely feel it anymore. See?” She got to her feet and walked to the stove, limping.
Mei-Mei turned away. When their father had heard Old Lu’s marriage proposal, he’d forbidden it. Young Lu had pleaded with Father. She told him Old Lu and she were meant to be with each other. The moon god had tied their ankles together with a red ribbon at birth, even if she was only fourteen and they were second cousins. Father and daughter fought for weeks. Girls weren’t supposed to pick their own husbands. It wasn’t proper.
Young Lu tried to run away. Father caught her and treated her like a slave, not like a daughter. He put her right ankle in a press and squeezed the two boards together until the bones shattered.
As soon as she could walk, Young Lu ran away again, this time successfully, and the marriage was consummated. Both families renounced Young Lu and Old Lu. All of Bao Fang had gossiped about the scandal for weeks. Old Lu worked hard to earn a few coins in the market, fetching and carrying from place to place, but it wasn’t enough. Many merchants wouldn’t serve them.
As Young Lu poured the tea, Mei-Mei asked, “Have you heard from Old Lu’s friend in the north?”
Young Lu sighed and sipped her tea. “It’s so hard. I don’t want to leave. Our family’s here. All our ancestors are buried here.” She paused. “Can you imagine leaving?”
Mei-Mei didn’t respond. To go to live with strangers for the rest of her life? To never again tell stories with her aunts all afternoon, read one of her mother’s poems, listen to her father construct a faultless argument, or talk with her sisters, her brothers, her cousins? It was the most horrible fate she’d ever contemplated. Yet when she got married . . .
Young Lu continued. “Bao Fang is the only city I’ve ever known. But Old Lu wants to leave. And I’ll follow him. Even to the Hell of Iron and Acid, if necessary.”
“You’re so brave,” Mei-Mei said, marveling.
Young Lu giggled. “I’m not brave,” she said, s
ounding like a carefree girl for the first time that afternoon. “I’m just stubborn, like an old ox.”
Mei-Mei also giggled at her petite sister comparing herself to such a huge beast.
Young Lu took a sip of tea and said, “Tell me about your engagement to Wang Po Kao. Everyone in Bao Fang speaks well of him. They say he’ll make a lot of money in trading.”
Mei-Mei tried to make herself smile at the thought of her husband-to-be, but failed. She drank her tea instead. The hot liquid failed to warm her belly, and left a bitter, metallic taste on the back of her tongue. She looked at her cup instead of meeting her sister’s eye. It had splashes of orange, green, and yellow under a thick glaze, not fine, but artistically done. The parts of her life mingled like the colors—her family, her sister, her husband-to-be. Would the last color wash over all the others, until her life was a muddy brown, like the bottom of the river Quang?
“When Old Lu looks at you, he sees a treasure, and thinks himself the luckiest man in the world,” she started.
“Stop!” Young Lu interrupted, hiding her smile behind her hand.
“The one time I met Wang Po Kao, at Mother’s birthday party, he also looked at me like I was a treasure. But one he’d never share, like . . .”
Mei-Mei bit down on her lip, but her unspoken comment, “like Father,” still echoed through the room.
Young Lu didn’t say anything.
Mei-Mei continued. “It’s a good match, good for the family. The Wangs have a cousin who has a son who is friends with the horsemen up north. If Father has horses he can sell through the winter, our family will thrive. The price for horses has tripled since the war.”
“ ‘Our family will thrive,’ ” Young Lu repeated. “And you’ll do what Father wants, won’t you?”
Mei-Mei replied without thinking, “Of course. He’s my father. I’m his daughter. It’s my duty to obey him.”
“Of course,” Young Lu said.
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