Starry River of the Sky (6 page)

“
EERRR-rripp!
” it croaked up. Rendi almost laughed. It was a toad.

It was an old, ugly, warty toad, sitting on a rock in a dark puddle of water. The toad moaned again, reminding Rendi of the mournful sounds that kept him up at night. Was it this toad that had been making the wails in the sky? Impossible. Those sounds bellowed in his ears
like loud thunder. This toad’s croak was at most a faded echo.

“It’s just a dumb old toad,” Rendi said, and threw in another heap of dirt. The toad groaned again.

“Stop!” Peiyi said, jumping up. “You’ll kill it!”

“I’m not killing it,” Rendi said, irritated. “I’m filling the well. I’m doing what your father told me to do.”

Rendi tossed in another pile of dirt, and “
EERRR-rripp! EERRR-rripp!
” the toad wailed, over and over again, as if now realizing what was happening. The cries were like the sounds of a funeral horn.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Peiyi screamed, grabbing his arm. “You’ll bury it alive!”

“Who cares?” Rendi sneered, and pushed away Peiyi’s hands. The sun was scorching his head and arms, and he was burning inside as well. He didn’t care about anything in this hot, dried-up village. If he could, he would bury all of it! Everything! Anything to make his past, the crying night, and the Village of Clear Sky disappear.

“What is wrong?” Madame Chang said, her gentle voice blowing over him. As he and Peiyi turned around, Rendi again felt as if they should kowtow on the ground
before her. She stood there gracefully, her dark eyes gazing down upon them, and Rendi felt ashamed.

“Rendi has to fill the old well, but there’s a toad down there,” Peiyi said in a pleading tone. “If he fills it, he’ll kill the toad.”

“I see,” Madame Chang said. Careless of the fabric of her silver-gray robe, she kneeled beside the old well, looked in, and smiled. “Too hot for fur?” she said to the toad. Peiyi gave Rendi a confused look, and he shrugged.

The toad continued its melancholy song, and Rendi wondered what Madame Chang would do. The well was too deep for her to reach the toad, even with a stick. Would she ask him to get a rope and climb down? He cringed. The decrepit old well was cracking and breaking—it was likely that part of the well would collapse with him in it.

Suddenly, the toad was silent. Madame Chang stood up. “You can continue your work, Rendi,” she said.

“But if he fills the well, the toad…” Peiyi sputtered, torn between her manners for a guest and her feelings.

“Don’t worry,” Madame Chang said, gently putting
her hand on Peiyi’s shoulder and leading her away. “The toad will be fine.”

Peiyi looked doubtful, but as she continued to look at Madame Chang, her expression slowly cleared and transformed into one of puppylike adoration. If Peiyi had admired pretty MeiLan as a lady, she was now worshipping Madame Chang like a queen. Rendi stared at their backs as they both walked away.

In silence, he shoveled earth into the well. Madame Chang’s appearance had been like a soft wind cooling his anger, and now Rendi began to feel troubled. Each drop of earth weighed upon his conscience. Was he killing the old toad? Why was the well quiet? Had the toad found another way out? Or was it dead already? Finally, Rendi looked over the edge.

His mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe what he saw. The toad was sitting cheerfully on a pile of dirt—the same dirt that Rendi was flinging into the well. Rendi tossed in another mound and then watched as the toad shook it off and vigorously jumped, patting the earth down into a surface. The toad was making a hill from
the dirt that was filling the well. With each shovelful Rendi threw in, the toad rose higher.

So Rendi continued to dig. His hands were chafed raw, and he had been obliged to dig farther and farther away from the well in order to not create another hole. The sun made his head feel as if it were a burning blister, and sweat dripped from his brow like a melting icicle.

Finally, the toad was getting closer to the top of the well. Now Rendi could see it sitting attentively on the dirt pile, its brownish green warts making it look like a piece of rotten wood covered with mushrooms. The toad’s black eyes were flashing in eagerness.

Just when it was high enough for the toad to see out of the well, it gathered itself like an expectant warrior. With one last shake, the ugly, ancient toad gave a bellowing croak, a war cry, and with a powerful leap, jumped onto solid ground next to Rendi’s feet.

“
EERRR-rripp!
” the toad burped.

The toad looked up at Rendi triumphantly, as if expecting applause. Rendi could only stare. The toad gave another burp, this one sounding a bit offended. It turned away from Rendi and began to gaze at the stone field. It sat listening to the light breeze, its neck strained forward as if a voice was calling to it. Rendi looked at the toad again. It seemed ordinary enough, mold-colored, fat, and lumpy. If anything, it was uglier than most toads. But Rendi had never seen a toad act like this.

Then, with a clumsy
Plop!
the toad jumped.
Hop! Plop!
It began to make its way toward the Stone Pancake—it was easy to see that the toad meant to cross it. Rendi quickly moved.

“Don’t go there, you dumb toad!” Rendi said, placing the shovel in front of its path. “It’s miles of hot stone. You’ll just get lost and cooked.”

The toad made another insulted-sounding croak but looked again at Rendi as if reconsidering. Rendi felt curious and impressed at the same time. Then, as if a decision had been made, the toad turned around and hopped to the back door of the inn.

“
EERRR-rripp!
” the toad said loudly.

“Did you want to go in?” Rendi asked.

“
EERRR-rripp! EERRR-rripp!
” the toad said impatiently.

“It’s lunchtime, anyway.” Rendi shrugged and opened the door.

The toad began to hop into the inn. Rendi couldn’t help following, matching his steps to the toad’s jumps. Where was it going? He felt as if he were tied to the toad with an invisible thread.

The toad turned toward a room Rendi had never
entered before. “I don’t think you should go in there, Toad,” Rendi said. But the toad was not listening. He disappeared into the room, and Rendi, after hesitating a moment, followed.

It was a small, dark room, and the light from the doorway poured into it like spilled water. The harsh daylight was softened, diffused by the dusty ashes of incense floating in the air. It skimmed gently over the short, narrow table lined with incense holders and the row of gray slabs of stone that leaned against the wall. The stone tablets were carved with names of dead ancestors and blackened by smoke. This was the Chao family’s shrine room.

The toad plopped before a tablet and gave a sad, mournful croak—again reminding Rendi of the sad cries he heard from the night sky. Rendi stepped closer and caught his breath as he read the name of Peiyi’s mother. He hadn’t really thought about Peiyi’s mother until that moment, he realized, and a sudden guilt filled him. “Everyone leaves,” Peiyi had said, and she had meant her mother as well. However, Peiyi’s mother had not only left but was also never coming back. All that Peiyi saw of her mother now was a carved name on a cold, dark stone.

“
EERRR-rripp!
” the toad said. Rendi saw that the toad was leaving the room. He followed.

The toad turned into the hallway, leaping confidently. Rendi felt his amusement returning.
Hop! Plop! Hop! Plop!
Each jump gave a resolute thud, and the toad continued forward with a determined air. As they got closer to the dining room, Rendi could hear people talking.

“… He’s always angry. He doesn’t care about anyone except himself. He hasn’t ever smiled or laughed or been nice since he’s been here!” Peiyi was saying.

“Never smiled?” Madame Chang said thoughtfully. “He’s too young to be that troubled.”

Rendi realized they were talking about him and tried to retreat, but it was too late. “
EERRR-rripp! EERRR-rripp!
” the toad called loudly, announcing their presence. Everyone turned toward them, and Rendi froze in the entryway.

But no one was looking at Rendi. All eyes were on the toad. Despite Master Chao’s look of horror, it was gleefully leaping across the floor, making croaking sounds like guffaws of laughter. With a last great joyful spring, the toad bounded into the air and onto Mr. Shan’s ragged, unkempt lap.

Rendi looked down at his rice. He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that he was sitting at a dining table reserved for guests or that Madame Chang was smiling. Because instead of being disgusted that a fat toad had landed next to her, Madame Chang had beamed as if greeting an old friend. Her welcome had included Rendi, who she had insisted sit with her, Mr. Shan, Peiyi, and the toad for lunch. Master Chao had shrugged permission, Madame Chang’s choice of a chore boy as a dining companion as perplexing to him as her choice of the toad.

However, the toad’s company seemed to be more appreciated than Rendi’s. Peiyi clapped her hands, and Mr. Shan had brightened and smiled at it. Looking more awake and alive than Rendi had ever seen him before, Mr. Shan had petted the toad and then reached into his pocket and took out two copper coins tied together with a red string. He rattled it in front of the toad, like a toy in front of a baby. Instead of groaning painful sounds like the ones Rendi heard at night, the toad was now gurgling and giggling.

“You’re playing with a toad,” Rendi said with a note of disgust. Peiyi rolled her eyes. “It’s more fun than you,” she said.

He began to respond with a rude insult, but suddenly the image of the cold, grim stone tablet came into Rendi’s mind. He closed his mouth.

“Rendi,” Madame Chang said as he paused, “Peiyi says that you haven’t ever smiled since you’ve been here. Is that true?”

Rendi shrugged.

“Yesterday, I noticed that you seemed to enjoy my story,” Madame Chang said. “Am I right?”

Rendi nodded grudgingly. “It was interesting,” he said.

“Well, I want to make a deal with you,” Madame Chang said. “If I can make you smile… no, if I can make you laugh with this next story, then for every story I tell, you must tell one of your own.”

“I don’t know any stories!” Rendi protested.

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Madame Chang said, smiling at him in a teasing way. “You’ve just never shared them before. And I’ll give you plenty of time to think of one—you can tell yours at dinner.”

“I want to hear the funny story!” Peiyi said. Mr. Shan nodded, and the toad croaked as if in agreement. Even Master Chao, standing at the back of the room, seemed to be looking at Rendi.

Rendi shrugged again. “Does it have to be a good story?” he asked.

“Any story you want,” Madame Chang said. “We won’t complain.”

“I will!” Peiyi said, but Madame Chang ignored her.

“Is it a deal?” Madame Chang said, looking at Rendi.

He hesitated.

“Oh, Rendi!” Peiyi said, irritated. “You’re not going to laugh anyway.”

“All right,” Rendi said.
Why not?
he thought.

Madame Chang smiled. Unexpectedly, she turned her head and looked at Master Chao. He had been pretending that their conversation was unworthy of his attention, but it was plain to see that he had been listening closely. He quickly looked away and pushed the beads on his abacus, as if he were deep in calculation. Madame Chang’s smile grew larger, and she began the story.

T
HE
S
TORY OF THE
O
LD
S
AGE

O
nce there was an old man who lived on a mountaintop. Some thought he was a crazy old man. Others thought he was the Mountain Spirit or even an immortal. But most believed he was a sage of great wisdom.

Many sought him—some for answers, some for
advice, and some to be his students. The old man answered all the questions and solved all the problems, but he shooed away all the hopeful students. However, one student named Tiwu refused to give up. He returned over and over again, begging and pleading, until finally the sage agreed to teach him.

Tiwu was an eager pupil. At the sun’s first light, the sage would share the old stories and teachings, and they would spend the rest of the day in deep contemplation. But at night, when the moon climbed into the sky, the old man ignored his student and, instead, read to himself from a large book.

Tiwu wondered about this. It was obvious to him that there was great wisdom in the book that only the sage read. What special knowledge was in it? He yearned to know. But the sage never offered him even a glance at one of the pages.

However, Tiwu was a reasonable fellow.
He will allow me to read the book
, he thought,
when I have mastered everything else he has taught me.
So he set his mind on his lessons, learning in earnest.

And with such effort, his progress was quite
considerable. Soon, when people came to the old sage for answers, Tiwu was able to give them. Before long, Tiwu also began to gain the reputation of being a wise man.

Encouraged by this, Tiwu finally gathered the courage to ask the sage about the book. One night, as the old man read silently, Tiwu asked, “Master, what are you reading in that book?”

“The page I am reading right now,” the old man said without looking up, “is about the secret to attaining peace.”

The secret to peace! Tiwu was in awe. Only the wisest and greatest of sages would know that. The book was full of wonderful secrets! What other extraordinary answers were in that book?

“Master,” Tiwu said, “may I read the secret to peace too?”

The old man looked at him. “Do you really wish to know the secret to peace?” he asked. “Or do you simply wish to read the Book of Fortune?”

Tiwu thought carefully and then said honestly, “Both.”

The sage said nothing, stroking his beard in thought. Tiwu could sense his doubt. Finally, the sage said, “Do you really believe you are ready?”

“Yes,” Tiwu said confidently. In his mind, the only thing that kept him and the sage from being equals was the knowledge in the book.

“I am not sure,” the old man said.

“I am!” Tiwu said. “Please, how can I prove it to you?”

The sage sat thoughtfully for a moment and then said, “At the bottom of this mountain, you will see a tall tree overlooking a lake. Climb the tree to the highest branch and sit there in contemplation for ninety-nine days and nights. If you are able to do that, you may read the Book of Fortune and the secret to achieving peace.”

Immediately, Tiwu traveled down the mountain, and he found the tall tree overlooking the lake. The tree was smooth and straight, like a giant paintbrush, and seemed almost as tall as the mountain he had just left. With great difficulty, Tiwu wrapped a rope around the trunk of the tree and made his way up to the highest branch.

At the top, he sat in complete confidence. He was sure he could meet his master’s requirements and return to learn the great secret. The sun rose and dropped, the moon filled and emptied, and Tiwu watched it all from the top of the tree. Nearby villagers, finding it easier to call up questions to someone in a tree than to climb a mountain, sent him baskets of food, which he hauled up using his rope. Soon, he began to bestow answers and advice to a steady stream of followers.

On the ninety-sixth night, there was a terrible storm. The wind shrieked and screamed, and the thunder’s roars echoed for miles away. Lightning slashed the sky, and rain attacked like vicious arrows. The tree swayed and bent, but Tiwu, remembering his master’s teachings, did not panic. Even as nearby branches cracked and fell and rain and wind slapped his face raw, he sat silently, like a stone statue.

The next morning, everyone crowded around the tree to see Tiwu sitting calmly up in the branches. “He is, without a doubt, a great sage,” they said to one another. “Only one who has achieved real
enlightenment could be unmoved by that storm.” And they hailed and honored him from the ground.

Tiwu heard their praises and felt quite satisfied.
I have truly proven myself
, he thought, and wrote a poem:

Like a mountain of stone,

The most powerful wind,

The most thunderous noise,

Cannot move me.

Steadfast my mind,

Deliverance my gain.

This he decided to send to his master, the old man on the mountain. One of Tiwu’s admirers quickly brought it to the sage. The old man read the poem and smiled. Then he flipped the paper over and wrote in dark characters:

BURP

And sent it back to Tiwu.

Tiwu quickly read the reply, expecting praise from his teacher. When he saw what his master had scrawled
on the page instead, Tiwu was very insulted. “ ‘Burp’!” he said indignantly. “I speak of sacrifice and great knowledge, and he returns this? What does he mean?”

Offended, Tiwu rushed down the tree and up the mountain. With every step, he felt more resentful of his master’s response. So when he finally saw the old sage sitting calmly, Tiwu immediately began to berate him. “What is this?” Tiwu said, waving the message angrily. “ ‘Burp’! What did you mean?”

The old man waited until Tiwu paused for breath. “You said the most powerful wind and the loudest noise could not move you,” the sage said with a smile. “But it took only one burp to bring you here.”