Along the River: A Chinese Cinderella Novel Read online

  “Valiant Warrior is admitting defeat,” Baba says. “He doesn’t want to fight anymore. No second round, I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Ah Zhao says. “Watch this!” In one motion, he scoops Valiant Warrior into his hand, makes his hand into a fist and shakes it a few times, then throws the insect into the air with a flourish. Ten seconds later, he catches the flying Valiant Warrior in midair and repeats the routine five times. Finally, he places Valiant Warrior opposite Brave Heart in the paper arena.

  This time, things are different. Valiant Warrior faces Brave Heart without flinching, obviously eager for combat. They pause for a second before fencing one another with their feelers. Brave Heart soon spreads his mandibles. Not to be outdone, Valiant Warrior does the same. Their jaws interlock. They push and pull for a few seconds.

  Gege and Baba sit on the side of Brave Heart, while Ah Zhao and I are perched behind Valiant Warrior. Ah Zhao hands each of us a blade of beard grass to stimulate the insects. Everyone looks on with trepidation. Gege and Baba cheer loudly at Brave Heart’s every move throughout the contest. I say nothing, but can feel my heart racing.

  Suddenly Valiant Warrior wrestles Brave Heart to the ground and gets on top of him. Brave Heart retreats into a corner while Valiant Warrior breaks into song.

  We can hardly believe our eyes!

  “Talk about reversal of fortune!” Gege says dejectedly. “How did you turn Valiant Warrior from loser to winner so fast?”

  Ah Zhao shrugs his shoulders. “It’s well known that a cricket that loses a match will refuse to fight again until the next day. But I’ve seen gamblers toss losing crickets into the air and turn them into instant winners by making them fly. I think something happens to crickets when they fly.…”

  “They start winning!” I exclaim, full of admiration. “You’re so smart!”

  “What about the third and final round?” Gege says. “To be fair, you must let both of them fly for a little while before they face one another.”

  “Ah! But life is not fair!” Ah Zhao proclaims.

  “You have another trick up your sleeve!” Baba says.

  “That’s right, Old Master! Watch this!” He twists a tiny piece of paper around the bristle of his paintbrush, walks to the cage that holds the frog and touches the frog gently with the paper.

  “What are you doing?” Gege asks.

  “Scoop up a cricket in each hand, toss the two crickets in the air and make them fly. Good! Now catch them and hold them in your fists. Which one do you want to win?”

  “Brave Heart!” Gege shouts.

  “Brave Heart it will be! Is he in your left hand? Good! Release him into the arena and let me apply my magic lotion.” He corners Brave Heart and rubs the papered bristle against him.

  “What’s that for?” I ask.

  “Crickets don’t like the smell of slime from certain types of frogs. It repels them. Why don’t you make Valiant Warrior fly in the air a few more times while Brave Heart gets used to the scent of frog’s slime on his own body? Good! Now he’s ready. Let’s go!”

  Ah Zhao places Brave Heart into the basin and signals Gege to release Valiant Warrior. The two crickets face one another. Brave Heart advances aggressively, but Valiant Warrior takes one whiff and turns away, refusing to fight. We’re amazed and delighted.

  Baba produces a long string of copper coins from his sleeve and turns to Ah Zhao. “Well done! You provided us with a lot of entertainment this morning. Thank you. If you can spare your crickets, I would like to buy them and have you deliver them to Commissioner Ye. Take these coins, go to the market and bring back a couple of gourds for transporting the insects. Keep the change.”

  He hands me the string of cash to give to Ah Zhao. It’s surprisingly heavy. About five hundred round metal coins are strung together with a sturdy piece of red silk, knotted at the end. Each coin has a large square hole in the middle. Surrounding the hole are four inscribed characters, one along each side of the square. “Circulating Treasure of Song,” I read. A thought suddenly strikes me.

  “These coins are heavy, Baba! What if you buy something really expensive? How would you carry all the coins?”

  “You use silver ingots instead of coins,” Gege replies. “One thousand coins are the same as one ounce of silver—and there’s fei qian (flying money) as well, isn’t there, Baba?”

  “You’re right!” Baba says. “Nowadays we use flying money to buy really expensive items … such as houses and land.”

  I feel confused by the idea of flying money. “Does it have wings and fly away?”

  “No wings,” Baba laughs. “It’s called flying money because it’s made of paper, and can be blown away by a puff of wind.”

  “But paper is cheap!” Gege frowns. “How did paper money become more valuable than copper coins or silver ingots?”

  “As Little Sister pointed out just now, long strings of copper coins are too heavy to carry around. So rich merchants started storing their coins at businesses such as pawnshops. In return, the pawnbroker would give a piece of paper, stating how many coins each merchant had placed with him. When someone needed to withdraw his money, all he had to do was bring his piece of paper to the pawnshop. This practice has been going on since the Tang Dynasty.

  “About one hundred years ago, the Emperor ran out of copper coins. So His Majesty began issuing official paper money, printed and guaranteed by the government, instead of coins. Nowadays we use coins to buy small things, and flying money for big purchases.”

  “Well, I won’t need any flying money or silver ingots today,” Ah Zhao says. “I can place the crickets in my homemade bamboo cages and deliver them to Commissioner Ye that way.”

  “Your cages are too flimsy,” Baba says. “Gourds are sturdier and more practical for transporting crickets. I don’t want those insects to die. Go to the market and bring back two gourds. While you’re shopping, I’ll write to my boss and tell him about the tricks Lady An Kai can learn to improve her luck with crickets. Transfer your crickets into the gourds when you come back, then deliver the whole lot to the Commissioner at his yamen (government office).”

  “Yes, Old Master!” Ah Zhao says, beaming with pleasure. “In your note, please tell the Commissioner that these two crickets are special. I think they were probably marshals commanding great armies in their past lives. Their souls are filled with fighting spirit and potent qi (energy). They will do their owner proud!”

  “Enough!” Baba says sternly. “I don’t need you to tell me what to write. On your way!”

  “I’m going with Ah Zhao to choose the gourds!” Gege says. He turns to Baba. “May we go on horseback, to save time?”

  “I want to go too!” I say, reluctant to be left behind. “Please, Baba, please?”

  “You’ll slow us down!” Gege protests. “Besides, you don’t even know how to ride.”

  “Come with us, Baba! Please!” I plead. “Let’s all go. Will you take us in your carriage?”

  As Baba hesitates, we hear a cough and the unctuous voice of old Ah Wang. “Good morning, Old Master, Young Master and Little Miss,” he says, ignoring Ah Zhao as if he doesn’t exist. “Teacher Lai has arrived, but Young Master and Little Miss have not had their breakfast yet.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Gege says.

  “Nor am I. We don’t want any breakfast,” I add.

  “Tell Teacher Lai to go home,” Gege announces airily. “Baba’s boss, Commissioner Ye, has ordered us to go shopping today. He’s giving Confucius and Mencius a holiday. Instead, Baba’s taking everyone to the market in his carriage!”

  Baba is obviously in a good mood, because he laughs and waves Ah Wang away.

  Visit to the Capital

  Instead of sitting with Baba and me inside the carriage, Gege insists on joining Ah Zhao and our coachman Little Chen (Xiao Chen on the driver’s bench. Baba and I sit side by side in the vehicle. I’m really excited to be going to the city because I’m seldom allowed out of the house. My last outing w
as three years ago when my grandmother Lao Lao, Niang’s mother, died and we buried her in the cemetery.

  Although our house is only three li (about one mile) from the city gate, the countryside around us is dewy and tranquil. The air smells fresh, trees are turning green and flower buds dot the fields with splashes of color.

  As our horses trot past the farms, I see peasants bent over their crops, and men and boys plowing their fields with the help of water buffaloes. On the narrow pathway, our carriage competes for space with goatherds, cow hands and pig farmers shepherding their animals to market. Little Chen wends his way skillfully along the muddy country lane, which soon broadens into a wider road. We pass many small, modest homes as well as a few mansions, similar to ours, before joining the main city highway. The traffic gets heavier as we roll along and we overtake many pedestrians, some carrying heavy loads balanced on shoulder-poles. Farther on, we drive past a train of camels, ox-drawn carts laden with goods, donkeys with animal carcasses or sacks of grain slung across their backs, wheelbarrows, porters staggering under heavy loads, as well as rich men in palanquins and sedan chairs, borne by bearers. Young men on horseback gallop past at high speeds. All of us are headed in the same direction. There’s very little traffic going the opposite way.

  As we approach the city, the noise around us increases. We hear our coachman’s yells intermingled with the sound of horses’ hooves, the singsong calls of street vendors and the jingling bells of ox-drawn carts. Our carriage rolls along, weaving deftly between buildings, carts, animals, pedestrians and open stalls. The narrow streets are lined with pottery kilns, artists’ studios, iron foundries, shoe-repair stalls and all manner of workshops. I see numerous stands piled high with wine jars, sacks of grain and fresh vegetables.

  “Where are we, Baba?”

  “We’re at the open market, just outside the city proper. Ah Zhao used to work at a store close by the Nine Dragons’ Teahouse, next to the river. They serve the best noodles in Bian Liang, and I happen to have a daughter who loves noodles.…”

  “Oh, Baba!” I cry. “Are you taking me to a teahouse? I’ve never set foot in one before.”

  “Why not? Don’t tell your niang, that’s all. You’re still young enough to go to a teahouse with your baba. Once a girl gets married, her husband will never allow her to go to such places.”

  “Married! Who’s getting married?”

  “You will, one day not too far away!” Baba says, smiling. “Your niang has been talking to many matchmakers lately.”

  Suddenly things start to make sense. This is why Niang has been more interested in the way I look, and this is why she wants me to behave differently. She can see a way of getting rid of me for good.

  “But I don’t want to get married, Baba,” I protest. “I’m happy the way I am. Besides, I’m only thirteen years old.”

  “Come, now—you don’t want everyone to accuse your niang of neglecting her duty to her daughter, do you? It will lower everyone’s respect for her. She needs to arrange a proper marriage for you, and these matters can take time.”

  My heart sinks, but the idea of marriage seems so ridiculous that it’s not difficult to forget all about it. Especially when our carriage turns a corner and we see the Bian River make its dramatic appearance with Hong Qiao (the Rainbow Bridge) only a few hundred feet away. The water is thronged with flat-bottomed barges laden with wood, salt, bricks, tiles, coal and sacks of rice. Little Chen brings our vehicle to a halt. He hands the reins to Ah Zhao, hops to the ground and places a footstool for Baba and me to alight.

  “You go and get the gourds, Ah Zhao,” Baba says. “The three of us are going to the Nine Dragons’ Teahouse for lunch.”

  I can’t help feeling sad that Ah Zhao won’t be eating with us. Although he’s so much more intelligent than Gege and me, he can never be part of our world. No matter how hard he works or how beautifully he carves, he will always be a servant. Why? Because he can’t read or write and will never be able to pass the Imperial Examination. How unfair life is! But I know that Baba will not be happy if I say this aloud. So I swallow my words.

  The teahouse is situated at a busy crossroads. Baba guides Gege and me around a few donkey carts, porters, sedan chairs and strolling pedestrians. A professional storyteller is entertaining passersby at one corner of the intersection.

  The proprietor himself comes out from the main entrance to greet us and leads us to the second floor. He seats Baba, Gege and me at a square wooden table next to the balcony.

  “Window seat for the young lady!” he exclaims.

  Through the open window next to me, I have a perfect view of the river. A most delicious aroma of sizzling hot oil and burnt sugar makes our mouths water and our empty stomachs growl.

  “Ma Lao Ban (Proprietor Ma), I see you are prospering!” Baba says.

  “Zhang Da Ren (Magistrate Zhang)! Thank you for giving me face by coming to my humble establishment so often. I am greatly honored.”

  “What are you cooking that smells so good?”

  “That’s candied fruit, caramelized in hot oil and sautéed with fresh shrimp; a specialty of our establishment.”

  “Full house again, even though it’s so early in the morning. Congratulations! Why work so hard? Stay home and count your money!”

  “Your Honor has no idea how difficult life is for me. The people of Bian Liang are impossible to please. Just before you came in, a customer actually scolded me for serving hot dishes today. ‘Don’t you know it’s Han Shi Jie (Cold Food Festival) today?’ he asked me.”

  “What’s the Cold Food Festival?” Gege asks.

  “It’s the day before the Qing Ming Jie (Clear and Bright or Tomb Sweeping Festival),” Baba says. “Tomorrow is Qing Ming.”

  “Why is it called the Cold Food Festival?”

  “Like many of our other festivals, it comes from our history.”

  “How long ago, Baba? Please tell us,” I beg.

  “Fifteen hundred years ago, it was the Warring States period and a Duke was fleeing for his life. He ran out of food and was dying of starvation. One of his followers, named Jie, cut off a slice of muscle from his own leg and served it to his master. Eventually, the Duke recovered his health and his throne.

  “The Duke decided to appoint Jie to an important post in his cabinet. However, Jie wanted no part of the politics at court. He refused and hid in the mountains instead. The Duke set fire to the region to force him out.

  “After three days of raging flames, they found Jie’s body leaning against a tree, with the corpse of his old mother on his back.

  “The Duke was saddened, because he had not meant this to happen. He ordered that from then on, no fires were to be lit for cooking on the anniversary of Jie’s death. This is the origin of Cold Food Festival.”

  “Magistrate Zhang,” Proprietor Ma interrupts. “What can we prepare for you today?”

  “It’s my daughter’s first visit to a teahouse. I’ve told her about your noodles. Let’s have an assortment of dishes and some noodles for her. I’ll leave the selection to you.”

  “Right away, Your Honor!”

  A waiter brings a pot of hot tea and sets each place at the table with a pair of chopsticks, a porcelain teacup, a plate, a bowl and a spoon. He brings the cold dishes first: sliced ham, tea eggs, preserved tofu and snails with garlic.

  After a while, Proprietor Ma himself brings up the hot dishes. “First we have steamed pork ribs flavored with bamboo shoots; next a dish of dumplings filled with minced pork and mushrooms; then stewed duck and cabbage. Finally, another specialty of the house: a big plate of fresh carp from the Bian River, with noodles. Enjoy!”

  As we eat, I look out of the window at the river. The Rainbow Bridge is packed with people staring and pointing in one direction over the railing. The bridge is so close I can hear them shouting and see them gesturing in their excitement.

  I put my chopsticks down and lean out of the window. A large, flat-bottomed barge is approaching rapidly at an awk
ward angle. A gust of wind suddenly blows the boat off course, turning it so it’s lying almost parallel to the bridge. The crew on board is straining desperately to lower the mast and right the boat against the river’s swirling current. The top of the mast looks almost certain to hit the underside of the bridge and cause the boat to capsize. It’s very close. The captain yells at his men to row harder. I hold my breath for fear of imminent disaster.

  Everyone in the teahouse has stopped eating. The diners converge on my window, pushing and shoving, leaning on me to get a better view. Gege tells them to go away, but they pay no attention. Meanwhile, a huge crowd has gathered along the riverbank to watch the drama. They scream at the captain and shout instructions to the bargemen.

  At the last moment, a spectator standing at the apex of the bridge suddenly throws a long coil of rope down to the barge. The sailors reach up with outstretched arms, grab the flying rope and hurriedly tie it to the stern of their ship. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew paddles furiously to turn the craft forward. I hold my breath as the barge lurches precariously, swinging violently from side to side until it finally rights itself. The mast is lowered—just in time—as the vessel slides safely under the bridge to the other side.

  Everyone in the teahouse gives a sigh of relief and returns to their seats. Proprietor Ma looks at the food on our table and tells us that it has turned cold. He insists on taking the four hot dishes down to be reheated in the kitchen. While we wait, we see Ah Zhao bounding up the stairs with a big smile on his face.

  “Did you see that barge, Old Master? It almost capsized!”

  “Were you hoping that it would, you rascal? What are you carrying?” Baba says, smiling.

  “Look what I’ve found!” He pushes our dishes to one side and places a bundle at the center of our table. He unfolds the square piece of cloth and lays out a dazzling assortment of curious objects: several molded-gourd cricket containers, each with a differently carved latticed top made of tortoiseshell, bamboo, horn or wood; a porcelain feeding tray; clay pots and fighting arenas; tweezers for grooming; a double bamboo cage, made for two crickets, with a single handle and a sliding divider in the middle; a dome-shaped, pocket-sized brass carrier covered by wire mesh; a sandalwood tube with a breathing cover and feeder at the bottom; and a tickler with fine hairs sprouting from a bamboo handle.