Starry River of the Sky (11 page)

“Another very interesting story, Rendi,” Madame Chang said as she nodded slowly.

“Yes!” Peiyi almost shouted. “Too bad the third question was impossible. We could really use the answer. It would solve everything!”

“What do you mean?” Rendi asked.

Master Chao coughed. “Peiyi…” he began.

“It’s the whole reason why we hate the Yans and the Yans hate us,” Peiyi said, ignoring her father. “Because our ancestors threw snails into each other’s gardens.”

“The fight between you and Widow Yan is over snails?” Rendi said incredulously.

Master Chao coughed again. “It’s not exactly that…” he said.

“Yes, it is!” Peiyi interrupted, her bitterness giving her the courage to speak before her father in a way Rendi had never seen before. “If it wasn’t for the snails, then we could be friends with Widow Yan, you and Jiming wouldn’t have argued over him marrying MeiLan, and he wouldn’t have run away! It’s all because no one can answer that silly snail question!”

“I know someone who can answer it,” Madame Chang said before Master Chao could erupt with indignation and Rendi could show even more surprise. Everyone stared at her.

“Who?” Rendi asked.

“Mr. Shan,” Madame Chang said.

They all turned to Mr. Shan, open-mouthed. Mr. Shan seemed oblivious to the conversation, playing with the toad again. Madame Chang gently touched his shoulder and looked straight into his eyes.

“Mr. Shan,” she said, “do you know how to settle the problem of the snails?”

He looked at her, and, again, his eyes seemed to clear like a sky after a storm.

“Of course,” Mr. Shan said.

Master Chao, full of skepticism and embarrassment, snorted and left the room before even hearing Mr. Shan’s answer. “Good,” Mr. Shan said. “If we do it, it’s better he doesn’t know.”

“We are going to do it, right?” Peiyi said, hopping up and down in excitement.

Rendi was surprised to see Madame Chang looking at him. “Are we, Rendi?” she asked him.

Night had come, and already the moans were echoing in Rendi’s ears. The sounds were pleading and begging,
and Rendi could feel Peiyi’s hopeful eyes upon him. Madame Chang’s steady gaze refused to release him, and Rendi could not say no. With a silent sigh, he nodded. He would stay until they settled the problem of the snails. What was a few more days?

“Yes,” Rendi said. “We’ll do it.”

Madame Chang smiled, and a look—was it relief?—flashed through her. Did she know? Rendi thought. Did she know he was planning to leave? And why did it matter if he stayed? The sky groaned in answer, and Rendi wrinkled his brow.

However, for the next few days, Rendi had no time to wonder. Although his nights were still full of restless cries, he quickly forgot about them during the day as he, Peiyi, Madame Chang, and Mr. Shan rushed in the hot sun like busy ants.

So when Rendi walked around the wall and to Widow Yan’s door, he was full of anticipation. The withered yellow grass crunched like paper offerings under his feet, and Rendi realized that this was the first time he had ever knocked on Widow Yan’s door.

Widow Yan, with MeiLan behind her, looked at Rendi
in surprise. The sun cast harsh shadows upon Widow Yan’s tired face, and the worried wrinkle between her eyebrows seemed a deep, dark scar. Suddenly, Rendi saw that life had not been easy for Widow Yan and MeiLan, two women living alone in a poor village.

“If he sent you to complain,” Widow Yan began, “you tell him—”

“Please,” Rendi interrupted, “would you come for tea?”

“Over to the inn?” Widow Yan said. “I wouldn’t go to Chao’s inn if—”

“No,” Rendi interrupted again. “Just to over there.” And he beckoned with his arm.

A table straddled the lowest part of the crumbling wall, and the light of the sun directly overhead burned its bare top. A chair rested near the half of the table in Widow Yan’s yard, and another chair waited with the other half in Master Chao’s yard. The figure of Master Chao, being pulled by Peiyi, was walking toward it.

Widow Yan gave Rendi a questioning look and an amused sniff, but she took his arm as he led her to the table. MeiLan followed, shooting Peiyi curious looks as
they came closer. Peiyi, having gotten her father to sit down, grinned at her.

“What is this?” Widow Yan demanded as she let herself be seated. The sharp lines of her face seemed to cut the air as much as her words.

“How should I know?” Master Chao retorted, wiping the dampness from his face, as red as the cinnabar decoration of his belt. “My daughter just dragged me out here. For tea, she says!”

Before Widow Yan could respond, Madame Chang appeared, flanked by Mr. Shan, who was carrying a full tray.

“Welcome,” Madame Chang said, as if they were sitting at a banquet table in the emperor’s palace instead of their dry, dusty yards in the scorching sun. “Thank you both for honoring us with your presence.”

Her gracious words and manner shamed both Widow Yan and Master Chao, and an awkward truce was silently agreed on. Rendi couldn’t help smiling to himself as he watched them refrain from making insults to each other for the first time. Madame Chang quickly set down teacups, plates, and chopsticks before them.

She poured the tea, steam misting as the amber liquid filled the rosewood-colored cups. The familiar fragrance wafted in the air and calmed Widow Yan and Master Chao even as they began to flush in the heat. They sipped wordlessly, the black tops of their heads blazing, but the space between them did not seem unfriendly.

However, the silence continued, and Peiyi’s second smile at MeiLan was less bright. Peiyi and Rendi slowly brought the small dishes of pork dumplings and fried taro cakes. They looked at each other furtively as Peiyi put down the last dish, which seemed to be filled with small, deep black pearls sprinkled with jade circles of sliced green onions.

“What are these?” Master Chao said, reaching for them with his chopsticks. As he chewed and swallowed, his eyebrows raised, and before he could stop himself, he gasped, “Delicious!”

Curious, Widow Yan took some and found herself closing her eyes in delight. “It is delicious,” she said. “It could be served to the emperor himself.”

“So you can agree on some things,” Madame Chang said. Her words reminded Widow Yan and Master Chao
of their dislike for each other, and the stony stillness returned. “If I understand correctly, your first disagreement was over snails?”

The silence snapped.

“If your great-grandfather had not thrown the snails…” Widow Yan spat.

“
My
great-grandfather?!” Master Chao bellowed. “It was
your
ancestor who threw the snails!”

“It was a plague of snails!” Widow Yan said. “He ruined our garden!”

“
Your
snails destroyed our garden,” Master Chao said bitterly, “and they are still there. Those disgusting things! No good for anything!”

“Other than causing a quarrel that breaks your families apart?” Madame Chang asked quietly.

Her words were spoken like raindrops, but they fell upon both Master Chao and Widow Yan like an avalanche of stones, forcing them to see thoughts and memories that had been hidden. Insults and words disappeared, and Master Chao found himself thinking of Jiming, whom he had tried hard not to think of since that last slammed door. Master Chao looked down at his teacup,
where one drop of liquid sat at the bottom, like a lone tear.

Widow Yan glanced at MeiLan standing beside her. How pale MeiLan was, frail and thin as if the sunlight could be seen through her. When was the last time MeiLan had truly smiled?

The sun shifted over them as if trying to expose a shared secret, and finally Master Chao and Widow Yan looked up. Their eyes met, grief-stricken mirrors of each other’s.

“The snails are good for something else too,” Mr. Shan said unexpectedly. Master Chao’s and Widow Yan’s sorrowful thoughts turned to bafflement, for Mr. Shan was looking at them with an amused expression, like a boy watching small dogs play.

“Those snails,” he cackled, “those snails are also good to eat!”

Rendi and Peiyi began to laugh as Master Chao and Widow Yan continued to stare. Their laughter had just reached a hysterical pitch when Peiyi gestured to the food they had eaten. “The snails!” she gasped between giggles. “You just ate them!”

“Those are snails?” Master Chao said, slowly
understanding. He took another mouthful, chewing thoughtfully. His face brightened, and his mind began to move with ideas like clicking abacus beads. “If I could serve this…”

“I could add this to my tofu recipe,” Widow Yan said. The corners of her mouth began to creep upward as she thought. “I could…”

“You could sell it at the inn,” Mr. Shan said with a jovial wave of his arm. They looked at him blankly, and he laughed as if they had told a joke. “The inn sells Widow Yan’s food! Then Master Chao gets more customers, and Widow Yan makes more money. Both help each other, and the snails are the best things to grow in the garden after all! Question answered!”

Mr. Shan continued to laugh to himself. He took the toad out of his pocket and began to walk away. Madame Chang smiled and joined him, leaving the others to watch with hopeful eyes.

Master Chao and Widow Yan looked at each other sheepishly. After a moment, Master Chao shrugged, and Widow Yan gave him a small, wry smile. Then Master Chao poured Widow Yan a cup of tea.

Preferring to continue their conversation out of the heat of the sun, Master Chao and Widow Yan walked together into the inn. Their shadows trailed behind them, and when the back door closed, Peiyi and MeiLan began to jump up and down. Even Rendi grinned.

“Now Jiming can come home!” Peiyi squealed. She grabbed MeiLan’s waist and danced around her. “You can get married!”

And I can leave
, Rendi thought. He looked up at the sun, gleaming in the sky like a burning piece of coal.
It’s
hot to travel by walking, though. Maybe I’ll wait a few more days. It might get cooler.

“I can’t believe it,” MeiLan said in dazed delight. “How did this happen?”

“It’s because Mr. Shan knew the answer!” Peiyi said. “Rendi told the story and Madame Chang asked Mr. Shan, and now everything is good!”

Rendi could see that MeiLan had no idea what Peiyi was talking about but was too full of happiness to ask for further explanations.

“We have to tell Jiming!” MeiLan said. Suddenly her smile waned, and the brightness in her eyes dimmed. “But how?”

“He’ll come back,” Peiyi said. “He has to come back, right?”

“I don’t know,” MeiLan said, and she untangled herself from Peiyi’s arms. “We don’t even know where he is.”

“But…” Peiyi said, and she stopped dancing. MeiLan had already turned and started back to her house.

“Maybe we can find him somehow,” MeiLan said, her back toward them. They saw her shoulders sink, and she
sounded far from hopeful as she opened the door. “I’ll think about it and talk to you later.”

“But…” Peiyi said again as MeiLan closed the door behind her. And with a plaintive soft cry, “But Mr. Shan answered the question!”

Peiyi’s head drooped, and all signs of her previous joy faded away. Downcast, she began to stack the used dishes on the table. Rendi felt a pang of sadness for her, but her words sparked a sudden curiosity in him.

“Peiyi,” Rendi said, emptying the teapot onto the ground, “has Mr. Shan always been this way?”

“What way?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, struggling to explain. “Kind of crazy. Sometimes he seems half-asleep, but other times he laughs and… answers questions.”

“He is more cheerful now,” Peiyi said, stopping to consider it. “I never heard him laugh before. He used to always just read a big book and be annoyed at everyone. Jiming used to say he wished Mr. Shan would read a book on manners.”

“But he doesn’t read anymore,” Rendi said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Peiyi said. “Mr. Shan used to travel too.
Sometimes he’d disappear for months, and then one day he’d show up, reading and not noticing anyone around him again, like he never left. But this last time, Mr. Shan came back without the book.”

Rendi frowned. The tea he had poured had already dried up—only a thin line of dampness remained, like a dark thread on the stone ground. What was it that Mr. Shan had said to Madame Chang that first evening? Something about a book…