by Henry Lien
When he sees the students disembark, he sweeps his arm as if pulling all one hundred of us into a welcoming embrace. He says in a voice full of warmth and charisma, “Well, come along. I’m sure you’re all eager to get as far away from Yao as you—”
He stops when he sees Sensei Madame Yao emerge from the last gondola. “Uhhhhhhk,” he groans as he expels all the air out of his lungs. “Why are you here?”
“I have been appointed Enforcer of Order.”
“Come no closer, Madame.”
“Someone needs to keep your class in order.”
“Come no closer, or I … or I shall scream!” he says, clutching the front of his sensei robe. I’m biting my lip to keep from grinning but I’m failing badly.
Sensei Madame Yao skates toward him, saying, “If you’re not going to keep your class—”
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” Sensei Master Ram’s shriek pierces the air. He skates around the lecture hall wringing his hands and screaming at a pitch so high that our eyes nearly water. All the students are laughing. Even Doi. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen her show her teeth. Sensei Madame Yao skates after him, hands outstretched like eagle claws to subdue him.
He grabs the nearest student, who happens to be Gou Gee-Hong, who instinctively covers her nose to protect it. I must have traumatized her about the safety of her nose. Sensei Master Ram whips Gee-Hong around to face Sensei Madame Yao, cowering behind the girl and wielding her as a human shield from Yao’s grasp.
He mewls at Sensei Madame Yao, “Get away from me! I can’t stand the nightmares anymore!” He flings one scroll after another at Sensei Madame Yao’s fuming face, as we all shriek with laughter.
Sensei Madame Yao grunts in fury and says, “I’m going to tell Supreme Sensei Master Jio!” She boards the gondola train leading back to the Principal Island and leaves.
“She hates it when I do things like that. Works every time,” says Sensei Master Ram. “Thanks,” he says to Gee-Hong. “We did it!” He’s as charming as a grown-up Hisashi. He clasps Gee-Hong’s forearm in that way that pilots of battle-kites do, and she clasps his in return. Everyone claps, and Gee-Hong smiles. I don’t think she’s ever had anyone clap for her before.
I think this sensei is my new favorite person.
Doi, Cricket, and I take seats in the front row of desks. Hisashi skates to the spot next to Doi. He looks at Doi and me and asks, “Is it all right if I sit here?”
Doi looks at me. I say nothing. Cricket says, “Of course, Hisashi!”
“Now,” continues Sensei Master Ram, “this year’s curriculum will have you learning wu liu combined with the other three disciplines. So in wu-liu-and-literature class, we will study how war is like theater, in that it is all about creating an illusion in order to control your audience.
“In Pearlian opera, you use all the tools of literature to manipulate the emotions of the viewers, from fear to fury, from calm to chaos, and position them where you want them. The same is true in war. For example, that ploy to get rid of Yao. Who can tell me which of the stratagems of the Pearlian Analects of Martial Strategy, Cunning, and Unorthodoxy that I employed?”
Doi’s and Hisashi’s hands shoot up.
Sensei Master Ram nods at them.
They look at each other, stand, and answer in unison, “The Defiler Defends Against the Devourer.”
“Correct!” sings out Sensei Master Ram. “Expand. What does that stratagem teach?”
“To use revulsion to deflect an attacker,” says Hisashi.
“Correct! Expand. What passage from Pearlian opera most famously illustrates this?”
“The escape of the rabbit from the mouth of the tiger by passing gas,” says Doi.
“From the Tale of the Tiger and the Gassy Rabbit,” adds Hisashi.
“Correct! Expand. How did I use revulsion to deflect Yao?”
Doi says, “Sensei Madame Yao detests weakness or anything she perceives as weakness. Especially in someone she thinks should be a paragon of strength.”
Hisashi grabs a nearby scroll. Swinging it like a flyswatter, he says, “And you used humor against her. Those who look down on humor panic when faced with it. Especially when someone’s able to get a whole room laughing.”
“Outstanding analysis!” says Sensei Master Ram.
Doi and Hisashi really are more powerful together.
Sensei Master Ram beams at the two of them. “This is what I’m talking about, students. Wu liu and literature. Really the same thing. And these two are truly exceptional students. See? This is why I regret not having children.”
I look at the two of them, who tried so hard to win over their father, standing in front of this warm man who appreciates them for the courage and talents they have developed on their own.
Courage and talents that I need in my battleband.
I turn to Doi and nod. She nods back.
After class, I say to Hisashi, “Niu Hisashi. It would be my joyful fortune and profound honor if you would join my battleband.”
He beams at me. Ten thousand years of stomach gas, his dimples make me ache a little. Hisashi says, “I am so deeply honored. However, I’m sorry, Peasprout. I just joined Suki’s battleband.”
The blood drains from my face and my heart plummets into my intestines as I think of him—
“Peasprout, he’s joking,” says Doi.
“Hahahah!” He grabs a writing brush from the desk as if it were a sword and mock-lances me in the heart. He claps his heavy hand on my shoulder, then Doi’s. He’s like a giant baby catbear, or a smaller Sensei Master Ram.
When he sees my face, he says, “Oh, I’m sorry. That wasn’t very funny, was it?”
“No,” says Doi. “It wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry. But it was a little funny, right?”
His constant laughter is sort of irritating. But I have to admit that it’s also sort of charming.
* * *
At evenmeal, Doi, Cricket, Hisashi, and I all eat together for the first time. As we line up to spoon dishes from the serving table, Doi helps me select things that don’t have animal parts in them that, once we are seated, she is going to assemble together into a curry crunchy roll with carrot-ginger dipping gravy, with iced lychee pudding for dessert.
Ahead in the line, Hisashi is scooping sliced pork onto his plate.
Hisashi eats meat.
But he … how could … I thought …
“Pigs are as intelligent and affectionate as dogs,” I blurt out. “And don’t you know what kind of lives they lead on most farms?”
Hisashi looks at me in bafflement. As if he has no idea what I’m talking about.
“Peasprout…” says Doi.
I continue loudly, “And do you know what they do to octopuses during the Festival of Lanterns? Can you imagine what it’s like to be burned alive?”
How can he forget, when he was the one who taught me to see the cruelty of the octopus lanterns and the kindness of his heart? No, not him. It was Doi.
I say to Hisashi, “I thought … I was hoping you were … I just thought you were … different.”
“He is different!” says Doi.
I turn to her. Why is she angry? She should be just as hurt as I am.
Then I see.
She is.
As hurt as I am.
But for a different reason.
Hisashi laughs a bit uneasily. “Ah … I’m not sure where that came from.” He gestures with the spoon at the dish. “But anyway, this is sliced simmered tofu pocket, not pork. It’s terrific.” He spoons some on my plate. “Don’t worry. I’m with you and Wing Girl on this. I don’t eat animals, either, because I love them. I’ve got a phoenix for a sister, after all.”
I can sense from the ripples in the Chi coming from Doi that she’s trying to collect her emotions. She was right. Hisashi is different. An entirely different person. I can’t just transfer what I experienced last year with Doi to this boy. Every time I do that, I hurt myself and I hurt my best friend
.
Doi skates around me in the line. As she passes, she whispers to me, “This isn’t last year.”
* * *
We’re all nervous when we begin our first week of wu-liu-combined-with-architecture. We still have thirty-nine days before the First Annexation, but the lucky of us are anxious because of having to be near the Chairman. Especially Doi. We arrive at the courtyard of Divinity’s Lap to find the Chairman standing on a dais in front of rows of desks, on top of which are set cups and bowls.
I look to Doi as she regards the cold, ruthless man she got as a father. Whom she went to such extraordinary efforts to try to please. Who struck her and was ready to take wu liu away from her and send her to a penal colony. And whom she tried, and failed, to have charged with treason on my behalf.
I reach out to touch Doi’s arm.
So much rage and fear in her unsettled Chi. She looks at me.
I whisper, “Doi, he’s not worth it. You broke two records last year. You skated unarmored at the Iron Fan Dance Motivation. You did two hundred rotations at Beautymarch. You made Pearl Famous history. Twice. That’s why Sensei Madame Liao called you ‘captain.’ Because it means, the best, the bravest, the highest. And you did all of that without him. You don’t need him. You never did. The people who really matter see you for what you are.”
I feel the tumult in her Chi begin to disperse. She nods and gives me a small smile.
Doi, Hisashi, and I move to take seats in the back row. I motion Cricket over, but he says, “I want to sit in the front row.”
“Cricket, come here,” I call. He skates on. “Eh, Cricket. I’m talking to you. Oh, when did you learn to ignore your sister? That’s nice.”
The Chairman has slipped on his sugary-charm mask. I don’t pay much attention to his lecture about combining wu liu with architecture. My most important goal in this class is to make sure that Doi gets through it all right.
“So, little birds,” the Chairman continues droning, “that is but one example of how to combine wu liu with architecture. Today, we are going to explore others. In front of you, you will find a cup of water and a cup of a specially treated pearlstarch. Who can tell me what the pearlstarch resembles?”
A hand at the front of the class goes up.
“Yes, Chen Cricket.”
“It’s like cornstarch,” he replies. “In texture, consistency, grip, and grain.”
“Excellent, little bird. Yes, it is like cornstarch. And it shares another property with cornstarch. I’d like you all to mix the cup of water and the cup of powder in the bowl in front of you and stir everything together with the spoon.”
We all do so. The mixture turns into a porridge-like liquid.
“Like a mixture of equal parts cornstarch and water, this material is liquid when stirred slowly, but try striking it with the spoon. Go on. I promise it won’t splash your robes.”
We all strike the mixture, Hisashi giving it an extra-loud whack as if to prove how hard he can whack. To my surprise, it turns solid when struck. The hardness quickly disappears, and the spoon sinks back into the mixture.
“Now, your task, little birds, is to spend this class devising ways that this material can be used in combat against an enemy. Can you do that for me?”
All I can think of is that if you were to throw a dollop of this at your enemy, it would turn as solid as a rock as soon as it hit—
Aiyah, something just hit my head! I turn around and see Suki smirking and holding the spoon with which she just whipped the dollop at me.
I scoop a spoonful from my bowl and ready to throw it at her, but at that moment the Chairman looks straight at me, and I put my spoon back down.
The Chairman skates down the rows of desks, examining each of us on our proposed application of the fluid.
Next to me, Gou Gee-Hong whispers, “I wonder what it tastes like.”
“Don’t eat it,” I say.
“But cornstarch and water make a delicious porridge when you add rock sugar!” she says.
At the end of the class, the Chairman says, “Well, little birds, who would like to present their invention?”
To my surprise, Cricket immediately rises from his desk, ascends the sensei’s dais, and faces us. Heavenly August Personage of Jade, he’s wearing just his underclothes! Cricket, what under heaven are you doing?
Through the laughter, Cricket says in little more than a squeak, “I propose two applications for this fluid. One is for defense, the other offense. For defense, you could dip clothing into the fluid.” He holds up his academy robe. It doesn’t look any different. “Unlike metal or pearlplate armor, it would be as flexible as cloth, since it is liquid, and would not hinder fighting ability like traditional armor. However, if anything were to strike it, it would turn solid immediately, protecting the wearer.”
He strikes it, and the entire robe instantly stiffens into a suit of stone before relaxing back to its flowing state. The laughter dies out as the students appreciate the cleverness of Cricket’s solution.
He continues, “Purely hypothetically, for offense, you could secretly feed it to your enemy by mixing it into rice porridge. Then, when it is inside your enemy’s stomach or intestines, you could strike your enemy at those points. The fluid would turn solid as a brick, and the walls of those organs would be crushed between the force of your strike and the solid inside. This would cause the organs to burst. Although, that is not very nice and would be an abuse of pearlstarch.”
The class is silent.
Next to me, Gou Gee-Hong raises her hand and whimpers, “But you’d have to eat a lot of it, right?” She wipes something white from the corner of her mouth.
“Well done, Chen Cricket,” the Chairman says. “There’s no need for any other students to present. Cricket is the clear winner for presenting not one but two applications.”
I don’t know who this new person is, standing at the front of the class and wearing my brother’s face. All I know is that I’m glad he’s going to be in my battleband.
I see Wu Yinmei watching Cricket with shining, unblinking eyes as he explains his inventions. And sitting beside her is Suki.
I stand up and announce, “No one else gets to use that.” Everyone turns to me. “Or if anyone else uses it, my battleband must get extra points at the Annexations.”
The Chairman smiles at me and says, “You did not develop that. Chen Cricket did.”
“But he’s in my battleband.”
Upon hearing that, Cricket puts a hand on his chest and says, “Me?” With as much shock as if I’d just asked a mouse to be Emperor of Shin. My heart breaks a little at his surprise.
“Yes, you. Of course you’re in my battleband.”
I skate toward Cricket. Doi and Hisashi follow. We ascend the dais and stand beside him.
I glare at the Chairman and say, “This is just the first of the weapons that my battleband is going to develop. We are going to prove our value to Pearl. And we are going to take first place at the Annexations.”
I cross my arms and lock gazes with the Chairman.
Doi crosses her arms and looks her father in the eyes.
Hisashi nods at his sister, turns to their father, and also crosses his arms.
Together, we stare down the Chairman, as strong as steel, as fierce as fire, as—
“Thank you, Peasprout,” whimpers Cricket. And then he buries his face in my shoulder and bursts into tears in front of the whole class.
Make me drink sand to death.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
The next day, we begin our final introductory course of instruction before the First Annexation. My Chi is becalmed knowing that Cricket has been hard at work developing ideas for our battleband. As our gondola train approaches the Conservatory of Music, the entire second-year class is unusually subdued. We’re riding the rails as they unnecessarily circle us around the whole conservatory, high above the water on columns that now seem so slender. Everyone is carefully peering down to see if they can
catch a flash of scales or a whip of tails under the water’s surface.
Further, all the students are terrified of Chingu, and they didn’t even have to sit locked in a tiny box with her as she had fits and hacked about with her cleaver like I did. And now she’s our sensei for wu-liu-combined-with-music.
When we arrive at the conservatory, we find Sagacious Monk Goom in the center of the great circular stage area. Chingu is nowhere to be seen.
As we skate toward him, I see that he’s cradling in the folds of his robes some pink, wrinkled baby. The baby turns to face me, and I gasp.
I would know those amber eyes anywhere. It’s Chingu, except she’s completely hairless, and her bare pink skin is covered all over with a complex of scars that look like the fronds of beautiful ferns.
And for the first time in twenty years, she’s not holding her cleaver.
Chingu’s sucking her thumb. Her eyes are darting from one student to another timidly.
“What happened to her?” I cry.
“Ah, you’ve noticed the change in Sensei Madame Chingu’s appearance. A group of applicants for the first-year class was visiting the campus. Chingu was being very not nice to them. She forced them up the Pagoda of Filial Sacrifice, trapping them on the top tier, chasing them around with her metal cleaver raised high above her head. It was during a storm. There was lightning.
“So one moment, it was all ‘Screech! Chop! Screech! Chop!’ The next moment, ‘Zzzzzappp!!!’”
“Poor Chingu,” I murmur.
“It burned off all her hair and the lightning left scars.”
“Where is her cleaver?”
“She renounced violence after this second lightning strike. She’s really quite harmless now. Frightened of everything, actually. My poor baby nice nice.” He coos at her as she clutches him, looking through shining, wet eyes at all of us.
“So it’s probably less dangerous to get oracles from her now,” I say.
“She no longer gives oracles,” answers Sagacious Monk Goom. “She refuses red sorghum wine now. She’s quite cleaned up her style of living. And when you take her hand and try to ask her for an oracle, she just hums a song.”
