The Concubine's Daughter (12 page)

Early the next morning, Li-Xia was awakened roughly to shouts and murmured curses of those about her. Slow to leave a deep, untroubled sleep, she opened her eyes when her nose was tweaked.

“Wake up, Crabapple. We must bathe before the others and be first to the chop house while the congee is hot and the steamed bread still soft.”

The voices quickly multiplied; bare-skinned girls of every shape and size made their way to the river’s edge, giggling as they stepped over those still half asleep.

Mugwort and Monkey Nut grabbed Li-Xia by her hands and feet, lifting her bodily from her bed, carrying her down the dozen steps to the water’s edge—the cold plunge claiming her with its swirling grip and a silent explosion of bubbles.

This was how Li-Xia’s first day of her new life began, beneath the colossal
archways of Ten Willows, high and grand in her eyes as the most splendid of temples, on a bend in the backwaters of the great Pearl River. The banks had been built up with blocks of stone to form a shallow pool, sheltered by a screen of trailing greenery, where for a few stolen moments, the children of the moon splashed like otters at play.

Dried and glowing, dressed identically to those around her, Li-Xia became a member of the family. Turtle showed her how to lace the rope-soled sandals, binding them securely around shin pads of stout canvas with strings of twisted reed.

“These will help you climb the mulberry tree and protect you from the snake that hides in the grass.”

Pebble stood watching, pleased to see how readily Crabapple was accepted by her sisters. She reached out to check the shin pads with a tug of the thongs that bound them.

“Always tie them well and you will not fall; the bark of the mulberry tree will not take off your skin. From this first day you must do all things for yourself—it is the fastest way to learn. If you fall, ask yourself why and do not fall the same way again.”

Pebble’s eyes were merry as she placed the wide wicker hat on Li-Xia’s head. “The sun can be strong in the groves, just as the rain can wash you away and the wind will try to take you in its arms. You will always need the shelter of this hat; do not lose it or you will have to make another.”

She chuckled, pinching Li-Xia lightly on the cheek. “You have the skin of your northern mother; protect it if you hope for more in life than to be mother to a silkworm.”

She tied the strip of black gauze that held the hat in place beneath Li’s chin, taking a step back, nodding her approval, inviting the others to do the same.

“Well, she certainly looks like one of the
mui-mui
. Now we will see if she can work like one.”

The sandals light and secure upon her feet, the plentiful bulk of congee—rich rice porridge—and hot green tea warming her belly, Crabapple followed Pebble and her new family, well ahead of others still swallowing their rice.

“First to arrive and first to leave: This is the way of the
mung-cha-cha
,” Pebble said, setting her fast, rocking pace. Moments later, farther along the river’s edge, they stopped at a large open shed where a dozen boys were spreading heaps of cocoons with wide wooden rakes. They greeted the
mung-cha-cha
with insulting words and crude gestures. Pebble replied in kind.

“They are the
larn-jai
, Crabapple,” she said carelessly when they had passed. “Broken boys with no home but the riverbanks—they sort and clean the cocoons and gather wood to boil them and kill the moth.”

“I have seen and heard much worse from those I thought to be my brothers.”

“Good, then we shall pay them no mind—words are harmless and they are afraid of me and our protector, Giant Yun.”

As if these words had summoned him, a man of enormous size stepped from the shed, his short thick forearms encased in sleeves of leather strapped to his shoulders and capped with hooks where his hands should be. His huge chest was crossed by a leather harness studded with brass, an even wider belt around his girth braced with more buckles and loops of chain. Slung across his back was a huge blunderbuss, its flared muzzle resting against his shoulder, the carved wooden butt below the back of his knee. His mighty legs were clad in loose-fitting brown breeches, leaving massive calf muscles and bare feet brown and scarred as old mahogany. Giant Yun’s face was broad and fearsome to look upon, with a wide mouth that showed uneven teeth beneath a flattened nose. His gleaming skull set in shoulders bunched with muscle, his eyes radiated goodwill as he greeted the
mung-cha-cha
with a wicked grin.

“Good morning, young ladies. Yun hopes you slept well and there was
hah-mui
to flavor your congee this beautiful morning.”

He bowed low to them, then crossed to the cart and reached for the trace chains that were meant to harness an ox.

“Your palanquin awaits you and your little sister.”

“She is Crabapple and said to be a fox fairy—but she is also welcome as part of our family.”

“Then she is welcome to ride in the imperial palanquin, and I will be her servant.”

Stacks of woven baskets and piles of bamboo carrying poles stood outside the shed. Pebble chose two baskets and a pole, tossing them to Li-Xia.

“Always pick the lightest baskets and the oldest pole, one that bends like willow and is easy on the shoulder. Throw them into the cart and climb after them. The silkworms are hungry today.”

The first strong rays of sun gleamed on Giant Yun’s wide shoulders as, harnessed to the shafts by leather straps, he trotted along the winding pathway.

It took only a short time to reach the rows of mulberry trees, but to Li-Xia it was a magic journey, climbing higher until she could look down upon the river and the endless world beyond. They entered a grove where bamboo ladders reached into leafy branches, as thick with cocoons as snowflakes on a winter bough.

“Welcome to the gardens of of the silkworm. Follow us and do as we do. Let us begin to fill our baskets. When they are full, we empty them into the cart and Yun takes it down. He will take a dozen loads before he returns to his hut to catch an eel or a catfish for supper.”

From this moment—as the
mui-mui
arrived at the hilltop like a flock of chattering birds—as she looked down upon the valley swept clean with early light, baskets swinging from her shoulders—Li-Xia rejoiced in her first piece of pure gold.

At the entrance to each of the four huts stood a shrine to the Tu-Ti, the earth god that watched over Ten Willows. Each farm had its own earth god, and the Tu-Ti expected nothing less than a small shrine containing an altar upon which the five ritualistic objects must be correctly arranged: two vases for flowers, two candlesticks, and a brazier for burning gold and silver paper. In return, the deity would attend all important events, from births to weddings and funerals, birthdays and festivals.

Made of mud bricks and no bigger than a dog kennel to protect its
sanctity from intruders, it housed the clay image of Tu-Ti, who was believed to hear all gossip and to bring down a terrible judgment upon any sign of dissidence. Flowers were changed and a joss stick lit each morning to preserve the prosperity of Ten Willows and its generous master; to bless the cocoons so that they numbered as many as stars in the summer sky, and snowflakes on the winter bough; and to pray for the fattening of the silkworm through the honest work and gratitude of the
mui-mui
.

Behind the huts, the pigs and goats were kept in pens, and a pathway led through rows of cabbage, melon, and white radish. A moment’s walk away, a pit had been dug for refuse and sewage—a putrid place of scavenging dogs that only the
larn-jai
would approach.

In the center of this makeshift camp stood a stout post, with an iron triangle bolted to it, and beneath it a pair of rusty leg irons set in stone. It was here, Li-Xia was told, that punishment was carried out. Beside it, a giant gingko tree spread its ancient limbs, its branches throwing a constant shadow; worshipped as the spirit tree, paper prayers fluttered among its branches, spelling out crimes and begging forgiveness and mercy, written by those who had suffered the horror and humiliation of the rings.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. With the help and guidance of Little Pebble and her newfound family, Li-Xia had found her place in the ramshackle home of the
mui-mui
. She filled her baskets with cocoons as quickly as any other. And when the work was over, Crabapple joined her sisters in catching eels with twisted strands of silk and a fish-bone hook, then stewing them in a pot with herbs and wild mushrooms. She learned how to fashion a hair comb from the head bone of a catfish, and where to find duck nests in the rushes and frogs along the riverbank ablaze with orange and yellow nasturtiums.

It was here they collected eggs of pale blue and olive green, careful to always leave one or two behind, and to use a leaf to lift the egg so that the scent of a human hand did not cause the mother duck to reject the
nest. The eggs were placed into Pebble’s hat and carried with great secrecy to the back of Giant Yun’s hut. There, while the family
mung-cha-cha
stood guard, she used a bamboo digging stick to uncover a cache of eggs in the soft, damp earth hidden by ferns. They were laid carefully side by side, row after row, one on top of the other beneath thick layers of rotting straw, each one wrapped in a nest of wet brown leaves. Pebble flapped a hand to dispel the strong organic smell, taking one egg from its muddy wrapping and handing it to Li-Xia. “There are more than two hundred salted eggs among these ferns, but only I and Giant Yun know where they are all buried.”

Li-Xia rubbed the coating of dirt and crusted salt from the egg, washed it in the river, and peeled off the hard shell.

“To become a true member of our family, you must swear to guard this secret place and eat the egg to seal this oath. But first you must hold it up to the light.” Li-Xia found that the white had become transparent amber jelly, through which she could see the dark yolk suspended like a planet in a golden sky. “It is a symbol of our mother the moon. Now you may eat it.” It tasted delicious, the yolk soft and salty as the golden heart of a rich man’s mooncake. “It is a hundred-year egg,
mung-cha-cha
style,” Pebble confided with a chuckle. “We cannot wait for a hundred years, so we bury them in the summer and eat them in the winter when there is nothing to flavor our rice.”

The family closed in, to squat in a circle around Li-Xia. Pebble put on her overseer’s face. “It is time for your initation.” She spat on her hand, rubbing the dirt from the inside of her right ankle to reveal a small tattoo, a simple Chinese character of one unbroken line. Li-Xia knew it was the sacred name for “moon.” Mugwort and Monkey Nut, Garlic, and Turtle also showed the moon marks on their ankles.

Garlic handed a needle-sharp sliver of bamboo and the hollowed half of a bean pod containing a dark liquid to Pebble, who spat on Li-Xia’s ankle and wiped it clean. “This is a special ink, mixed for us by Giant Yun, who is a master of such things. It is good for the blood and heals quickly.” The bamboo needle pricked Li-Xia’s skin so many times she ceased to count, until Pebble sat back on her haunches. “There, Crabapple. Now
you will always be of the
mung-cha-cha,
and the moon will always be your mother.”