The Concubine's Daughter (11 page)

She laughed, a careless chuckle that matched her mischievous smile. “You see? This is my ‘Pebble the dancer’ face.” In an instant the smile was gone, and in its place was a fierceness that pulled at the corners of her mouth and thrust out her chin, her eyes no longer friendly. “And this is my ‘Pebble the warrior’ face.” She laughed aloud at Li-Xia’s confusion. “I like you, Beautiful One. I see into your eyes. You have a good heart and a strong one; already it holds many secrets. But no one has a heart that holds more secrets than the Little Pebble.” She thumped her chest with a grubby fist. “I am bursting with secrets. They are all that I have, so I cannot share them, or give them away, or let anyone steal them. Perhaps one day we will do business, one of yours for one of mine, so that our hearts will never be empty.”

The overseer made a sudden twisting turn on the toes of one foot, as though it would help her think. “But first we must give you your
mui-mui
name. We will call you Crabapple, which looks good enough to eat but is sour to the taste.” They approached a stone water trough where
goats were led to drink. “Yes, I like you, Crabapple … you are not afraid. I can smell fear as surely as I smell salt fish from the anchored junks when the wind is off the river. Let them think you are a fox fairy, as the black crow says. It will bring respect if they are not sure of your powers.”

They passed through an arched gateway hung with sweet honeysuckle, walking away from the mill and its tidy compound toward the oldest and grandest stand of willows stretched along the riverbank. Beneath shimmering curtains of green, a line of four tumbledown huts, roughly made from woven mats lashed to crooked frames of bamboo, leaned comfortably in their shade.

“These willows have withstood many storms. They bend in the wind no matter how wild, but never break. Even when the oak is uprooted and the branches of the tung tree broken and flung to the ground, the willow still stands. It owes its life to the river.” She put a protective arm around Li-Xia’s shoulder. “You are still a baby, but I think you have already learned to be like the willow.”

W
hen they entered the
first of the open-sided huts, Pebble led the way past rows of narrow beds under a roof of ragged thatch. A wicker box stood at the foot of each bed, and above them tattered mosquito nets hung from a rickety crisscross of bamboo beams. She stopped in a back corner where six beds stood side by side, the mat walls hung with shells and bunches of dried flowers and herbs.

“This is where you will sleep.” Pebble dumped her share of the bundle onto the cot, extending her foot to tap the box. “And this is where you will keep your things. No one will steal these rags, but if you have something of any value, hide it well.” The hut was already dimly lit by the yellow flames of slush lamps—clay pots filled with oil and burning a single wick. Fireflies flickered through the fast-closing shadows. The
mui-mui
were scattered around—squatting, sitting, lying. Some were clothed, some naked and drying their hair still wet from the river, their many voices tangling to be heard. They reminded Li-Xia of ducks chased from the ponds and onto the terraces.

The babble slowed as they turned her way. Li-Xia had never looked into so many pairs of eyes, so many different faces; they showed a passing interest, then turned aside, busy combing and plaiting each other’s hair or closely searching for lice.

Pebble whistled softly, and four girls left the others to come to her side. She gestured for them to sit, dropping to her knees to light the lamp.

“We work in gangs of six to a grove, each with its overseer. I am overseer to the
mung-cha-cha
gang and oldest of the
mui-mui
. I have worked the groves longer than any other.”

She circled a finger at the side of her head, pulling a silly face. “
Mung-cha-cha
means ‘a little bit crazy.’ It is sometimes wise to seem stupid when you live among fools.” She gave Li-Xia a wide, lopsided grin. “To have spiders in your head gives you power. Everyone is afraid of madness.”

She turned to face Li-Xia and placed a welcoming hand on her shoulder. “We do not think of ourselves as a gang, but as a family, and these will be your sisters.

“This one’s name is Li-Xia—the Beautiful One, the name of vanity given to her by a greedy father to raise her price. So we will call her Crabapple, sweet to look at but hard to swallow.” She grinned at the newest member of her family with approval. “It is yet to be discovered if she is sweet or sour, but already she has felt the cane of Ah-Jeh without flinching, not a sound or the blink of an eye … so watch over her until she has learned the ways of the
mui-mui
.”

The overseer spoke fondly of the four girls seated cross-legged around her, presenting each in her turn. “This is Turtle, because she hides in her shell. She would rather listen than talk, and this makes her all-seeing. Nothing happens beneath the willows that she does not know about. Call upon her wisdom when you must. She will also teach you to make a needle from a fish bone, to patch your clothes, and to make beautiful things from stolen silk.”

Turtle was the smallest of the girls, intent on a bundle of sewing, lost in each minute stitch, smiling her silent welcome as she bobbed her head.

“This is Garlic, because she eats much of it raw and does not smell like a summer rose, but she bows to no one and there is no better friend when trouble comes. She will teach you where to find rare herbs to heal all things, how to make soap from candle wax and flowers, and how to cut and shape a bamboo flute.” One slightly taller girl, already half stripped and showing small, dark-pointed breasts, grinned boldly, her teeth shining in a dirty face that hid nothing.

“This is Mugwort, because she is ugly as a sow’s behind … but inside she is pretty as plum blossom in springtime. Mugwort will teach you to mend your sandals and patch your hat with cane grass and rushes.” Mugwort took an elaborate bow, and gave Li-Xia a quick, hard hug.

“And this is Monkey Nut … she is truly
mung-cha-cha
, a little bit crazy, but her thoughts are gentle and her spirit is kind, so she is always happy. Monkey Nut will teach you how to laugh when you are sad, which is the greatest gift of all.” Monkey Nut stared at the small girl named Crabapple with quiet eyes filled with wondrous things unknown to all but her.

“Mugwort and Monkey Nut are twins and lively as crickets. Together as strong as a bullock, but their hearts are even stronger.” The twins were perhaps nine or ten years old, each as sturdy as the other. They moved as one, taking Li-Xia firmly by the hand.

“Little Pebble is mother and father, brother and sister to us all. She will be all these things to you,” Mugwort said with great sincerity.

“So we are a family and our mother is the moon,” Little Pebble said with a grin. “Now put away your things and lock your box, hide the key, and we shall eat.”

Bowls appeared as if by magic. From a lidded bucket, Pebble filled each one with sticky rice, adding a strip of salt fish or fried eel and a shred of cabbage with careful measure.

“Sleep when you are full, Crabapple. We wash in the river before dawn and eat in the chop house before the sun has touched the willows. To do this we must be first. It is the secret of our survival to be first in all things—first to arise, first to bathe, first to eat, first to reach the groves, first to fill our baskets, first to the chop house, and first to sleep. Perhaps this is the way of the world outside, but I have not been there so cannot be sure.”

For a moment they ate without speaking, hungry for the salty rice, shoveling noisily with busy chopsticks held close to their chins.

“There is another reason for being first to choose our baskets,” Pebble said. “We will ride in the donkey cart of our friend Giant Yun, where others must walk. We pretend it is the golden palanquin of the empress
and that we are her royal children, carried off to visit the palace gardens to pick lychees and ride the dragon.”

Pretending her chopstick was a pipe, puffing imaginary smoke with great relish, she grinned at Li’s uncertainty.

“Don’t worry, Crabapple, we will be beside you. Giant Yun is strong as a buffalo and almost as ugly, but his heart is light as a silkworm’s cocoon and gentle as a mother’s kiss.” Pebble said this with hushed respect before she swallowed the rest of her rice, licking every grain from her lips.

“Tell her the story of Giant Yun,” said Garlic, lying back to listen. The others chorused their agreement. “Yes, yes, the story of Yun.”

This must be a very good story
, Li Xia said to her heart,
they have heard it many times.

“It is a true story,” Turtle said, nodding with great respect. They formed a circle, sitting, lying, kneeling, as Pebble jumped into its center, wearing her warrior’s face.

“Yun-Ying-Chi was once a great temple boxer, some say the greatest in all China. He could fell a charging bull or a galloping horse with a single blow of his iron palm.

“Challengers came from every province, but no one could beat him. Warlords sent their finest warriors with gleaming swords and steel-tipped lances, mounted upon armored war horses … but Giant Yun felled them all with ease. One warlord came and offered Yun his weight in precious jade to become champion and teach his martial skills to the imperial guard. But Yun had always been free as a bluecap in tall bamboo, swaying wherever the four winds might take him. He was not born for obeying orders and disappeared to a distant province … but the soldiers that followed were too many even for him. It is said he killed one hundred men before they could cast the net that trapped him. They cut off his hands so that he could no longer fight for any rival.”

She swung her hands high, bringing them down with great force, and looked around her as a storyteller does, while the
mung-cha-cha
nodded, murmuring their agreement.

“So he used the magic of his chi to channel the power into his feet.
His toes have become his fingers and there is nothing he cannot do with them. Now he has feet and legs of toughest steel and pulls the donkey cart up and down the hill as lightly as a rickshaw. He is keeper of the trees and never sleeps. No one will raid the groves and steal cocoons while Giant Yun watches over them with his great blunderbuss. He fires it with his toe and it can be heard for a mile along the river.”

Pebble waited for the power of her words to be properly heard, eager to continue. “Once, not so long ago, river pirates came in a four-masted junk to raid the mill. They would have taken the silk and the weavers too, but Yun held them off until Ming-Chou’s bodyguard came with their guns. The master did not reward him; the captain of the guard did not thank him. He returned to his hut among the groves with no more said of it.”

Pebble grinned and spread her hands to complete her story.

“This mattered nothing to him. Since they took away his hands, he says, his wisdom has increased and he has learned to speak with the universe and all things in it. He is a poet and a seer, a teller of fortunes, and he can make beautiful things from shells… . Now he pulls his cart to the groves and back again much faster than a buffalo.” Pebble bowed to her audience. “The bluecap is very happy in the mulberry tree.”

She handed her empty bowl to Li-Xia. “Collect the bowls and wash them in the river; this will be among your duties as the youngest. Then we must sleep. Tomorrow you will ride the royal palanquin of Giant Yun to pick the celestial lychees.”

The lamps were soon blown out and fireflies glowed all the brighter, flitting among the drooping swaths of mosquito nets like sparks stirred from a dying fire. The grating of bullfrogs was heard among the rushes as Pebble lay down on the bed next to Li-Xia with comforting words.

“I will sleep beside you until you are truly among us. No one will trouble us. We have secret claws.”

Pebble’s hands reached into the twisted mass of her hair, a curved hook of sharpened steel suddenly appearing from each of her tightly closed fists. The middle finger of each hand was thrust through the rings of buffalo horn attached to each lethal blade.

“The hair knife,” she muttered with secret pride. “I made them myself from a broken sickle.” Even in the fast-growing darkness, Li could see that the steel had been lovingly honed to a razor’s edge. “Worn in my hair they are just another clip, a fancy pin, an ornament, just like the willow twigs and my crown of morning stars … but once in my hand they are the claws of the black bear and the talons of an ea gle, and no one can take them from me unless they chop off my hands.” The gleaming hooks of steel were again quickly hidden in the nest of her hair.

Night settled over the secret thoughts of the
mui-mui
in a mantle of sounds—their dwindling voices, the breeze sifting through the canopy, crickets singing in the thatch above, the constant rattle of frogs.

“There are both the good and the bad among us. Only the strongest survive without misery. We must always be prepared to defend ourselves and each other. It is the code of the family.”

Li-Xia lay in silence, listening to the songs of the river, uncertain of what she might say in return.

“Don’t be afraid, little Crabapple. Let the willows sigh in your dreams. Tomorrow you will begin to learn the ways of the
mui-mui
in the noble world of the silkworm.”