Starry River of the Sky (21 page)

“ ‘A clear sky,’ your great-grandfather said,” Madame Chang told Jiming, who had listened with sudden understanding. “And this place was then called the Village of Clear Sky. But that is also when people began to leave this village, and now it is becoming empty, just like the Stone Pancake and the sky above.”

“That’s just all the more reason to return the moon,” a villager said. “The king—”

“The king cannot do anything!” Madame Chang said, as if declaring a proclamation. She looked out at the sunset. “But everything will return. Tomorrow, at this time. Do not forget.”

And with those words, Madame Chang turned and left out the back of the inn, her hair floating around her pale face so that it looked like the moon itself in a midnight cloud.

Rendi ran out the door to follow her. Madame Chang was already walking across the Stone Pancake, her figure a silhouette against the bursting orange sky.

“Madame!” he called, but when she turned and waited for him, his mouth was as dry as a summer road. As Rendi walked with her across the flat plain, he opened and closed his mouth several times until, finally, he asked, “What happened to the Spirit of the Mountain?”

“The Spirit of the Mountain was so hurt and angry,” Madame Chang said softly, as if talking to herself in a
dream, “that he left his home. He wanted to leave it all behind.”

Rendi looked at Madame Chang, but her eyes were as unreadable as stones as she looked off into the crimson and molten gold of the sky.

“But he carried that anger and unhappiness with him, and he could never really rest, never truly find peace,” Madame Chang said. “He wandered the world, letting himself be called by many different names and acting the role of another. All he wished was to forget. Until finally, he did.”

Rendi followed her gaze to where the line of the land cut the sun so that it looked like a sliced orange. They continued walking, and her pace did not slow.

“But in his quest to forget, he let himself forget everything,” Madame Chang said. “Instead of losing his unhappiness, he lost himself and the things he held dearest.”

With each step they took, the fire of the sun burned away and the night began to unroll across the sky like a length of black fabric.

“And we,” Madame Chang said, “lost the moon.”

But the moon was found and now it was before them,
its steady glow thinning the sky around it to a silver mist. Like a carved wooden statue, Mr. Shan sat cross-legged and was reading. His blue cloth bag, brought to him earlier by Madame Chang, lay limply beside him. As they approached, he looked up and met Madame Chang’s eyes.

“When?” Mr. Shan asked.

“Tomorrow,” she said, and Rendi looked at them both curiously, feeling as if he was at a meeting not meant for him.

But the old man looked at him, his gaze piecing and powerful but not unkind.

“Rendi,” Mr. Shan said, “it is time for all of us to return.”

Rendi knew that was his sign to leave, but when Madame Chang handed him a lantern to light his way back to the inn, he could not help asking another question.

“Madame Chang,” Rendi asked, “why did you want me to tell stories?”

“Because I wanted to know you,” Madame Chang said, “and when people tell stories, they share things about themselves.”

Rendi looked into her eyes, the light in them illuminating his own thoughts.

“My stories were about me,” Rendi said slowly. “Were your stories about you?”

Madame Chang smiled, put her hands on Rendi’s shoulders, and touched his forehead with hers. “Goodbye, Rendi,” she said softly. And then she released him into the night.

The next morning, Rendi awoke to a sad knocking on his door. When he opened it, a tear-stained, miserable Peiyi stood in front of him.

“She lied,” Peiyi said, her lip trembling as a fresh tear rolled down her cheek.

“Who lied?” Rendi asked.

“Madame Chang!” Peiyi said, a sob threatening to take over. “She’s gone! She left! Even though she promised!”

Rendi rushed to Madame Chang’s room. Peiyi was right. Madame Chang was gone. The room was empty
except for the beams of the sun that draped themselves on the carved wooden table and bed. Peiyi joined Rendi at the door, and they both stood, staring.

“I can’t believe it,” Rendi said, his voice as hollow as he felt inside. Even though the villagers had largely disregarded Madame Chang’s words after she had left the inn, he had believed her. But now she was gone.

“Can’t believe what?” Jiming’s voice said behind them. They both turned and looked up at Jiming, dejected.

“Madame Chang left,” Peiyi said, tears threatening again. Without Madame Chang, Jiming’s departure was now certain.

“Hmm.” Jiming frowned as he glanced at the bare room. “Did she pay her bill?”

“Yes!” Rendi said indignantly. “She even paid in advance!”

“Well, then it’s nothing to get gloomy about,” Jiming said in a jolly tone. “Sometimes people have to leave.”

“But…” Peiyi started.

“Come on, baby sister!” Jiming said, swinging Peiyi up in the air. “No sad faces! Your brother is getting married today!”

In spite of herself, Peiyi laughed. Jiming had to leave as well, but he had obviously decided to enjoy the day as much as possible. Peiyi landed on the floor, and Rendi watched as she set her face into a grim smile. He knew she was determined not to spoil Jiming’s day.

The whole village was attending the wedding, and the day was full of hectic activity. Rendi was sent hurrying back and forth for water while Jiming and Master Chao butchered a pig for the evening’s wedding banquet. Peiyi was sent to help MeiLan, who was frantically sewing.

“We’re breaking many traditions,” Widow Yan said, shaking her head as Master Chao, Jiming, and Rendi brought over tea and wine as betrothal gifts. “No matchmaker, no bridal cakes! We don’t even know if this is an auspicious day!”

“It’s auspicious,” Jiming said. “Any day I get married is auspicious!”

They all laughed, but underneath the laughter there was a stream of sadness. When Rendi brought some red thread for Peiyi and MeiLan’s sewing, he saw a silver tear sneak out of the corner of Peiyi’s eye. As the tear fell, it made an unnoticed stain on the crimson silk, like a drop
of blood. Rendi frowned. Where was Madame Chang? Had she really left? It was impossible! Yet “Goodbye,” she had said. And he remembered the solemn finality of her farewell, like the tolling of a bell. But what about the moon? And Mr. Shan?

Rendi sidled next to Peiyi. “As soon as I can,” he said to her in a low voice, “I’m going to go out to Mr. Shan. He’ll know what happened to Madame Chang. Maybe she left a message with him.”

Peiyi’s face filled with sudden hope, and she nodded. “Yes! He’ll know! Maybe she went to get something or…” Peiyi trailed off, unable to imagine why Madame Chang would leave. For a moment, Peiyi and Rendi stared at each other, both at a loss. Then Peiyi nodded again at Rendi and returned to her sewing.

But Rendi could not leave. Master Chao and Jiming kept him in a rush without a moment of rest. When Rendi was sent to hire the sedan chair and musicians, he tried to protest.

“MeiLan lives right next door!” Rendi said. “Why do you need a wedding procession to get her? It’ll be the shortest parade ever!”

“We’ll make a couple of circles on the Stone Pancake,” Jiming said in a jolly tone. “The whole village is coming out. We’re going to make it a celebration at sunset!”

Rendi tried again.

“I should go out and check up on Mr. Shan, though,” he said. “He watched the moon all day yesterday, and no one has seen him at all today.”

“He’ll be all right,” Master Chao said. “We gave him enough food and wine to last a week. It is too bad he will miss the wedding, but someone must watch the moon.”

“And,” Jiming said, a grimness creeping into his grin, “he will not have to watch the moon for much longer, anyway.”

Rendi’s tasks were finally finished when the sun hung above the horizon like a golden peach ready to fall. Villagers gathered before Master Chao’s inn and lit firecrackers, loud and deafening, as the rented bridal sedan arrived.

Jiming, dressed in his finest, inspected the red embroidered silk canopy and the costumed carriers with mock discipline.

“Only the best to pick up my bride!” he said.

As Jiming and the villagers joked and laughed, Peiyi found her way to Rendi’s side.

“Did you see Mr. Shan?” she hissed at him.

Rendi shook his head. “Not yet,” he whispered. He looked at the crowd all around him. “I’ll go now.”

Peiyi, too, looked at the crowd and nodded at him. She began to cheer loud enough for two, and he scurried away, both of them hoping their questions could be answered by the old man by the moon.

It was late in the day, and the air had cooled slightly. As Rendi walked quickly across the stone plain, a tender breeze stroked the earth, and the sun seemed to have softened its glare. There was still no rain, however, and the snail shells Rendi had dropped were brittle and dry.

And the questions in his head seemed to repeat with every step he took. Where was Madame Chang? Why did she leave? Was Peiyi right? Had Madame Chang lied to them?

A purple curtain began to drape over the sky, and
Rendi’s thoughts stopped him in midstride. He didn’t believe Madame Chang had lied. She would not lie. She could not. All that he knew of her told him that her words were always pure and true. For her to lie was impossible. As impossible, Rendi thought grimly, as the moon falling from the sky.

He continued walking, and instead of thinking of Madame Chang, he began to think of Mr. Shan. Last night, Mr. Shan had looked at him with clear eyes full of endless wisdom, and Rendi began to feel hopeful confidence bubble inside him, like a flowing spring. Mr. Shan knew how to end the argument of the snails and how to save him from Fang and Liu. He seemed to know the answers to everything. Mr. Shan would know the answers now too.

However, as the tall tree came into sight, Rendi did not see what he had expected. There was no Mr. Shan sitting cross-legged reading his book with the toad croaking in his pocket, and there was no round, pearl-like moon glowing behind him. Where was Mr. Shan? Where was the moon? Rendi’s pace quickened to a run.