HAINAN DAO BOOK II
CHAPTER 09
The little girl wandered down the alley, clutching a stick in her hand. She traced it along the walls, flicking off chips of clay and mud as she took one step after another. Gazing up into the night sky, she regarded the moon, with her accompanying band of cloud attendants, waltzing across the heavens in silence. Her eyes drifted back down to the dirt path before her feet. She had to be careful. She didn’t want to fall.
“Blackness for stones, brightness for water…” She muttered beneath her breath, reciting to herself the old adage for seeing in the dark.
She happened to pass by a doorway, where two women sat beneath the light of the moon, chatting. After she went by, one of them whispered to the other, in a voice too loud not to overhear, “There she goes, poor thing…! Do you think she even looks like him?”
Ahbi didn’t bother to turn around. Frowning, she bent her head forward and pressed on faster.
The first woman whispered something else. All Ahbi could make out was the word, ‘tall’, and then the two women behind her clapped their hands together and began laughing.
Ahbi snorted. She stuck her chin out as she marched along. She didn’t care what they or anybody else were saying behind her back. In fact, she had stopped caring a long time ago.
As she continued home, Ahbi came to pass through the centre of the village where she stopped for a moment. In front of her was the clearing that was home to the village well. Focusing her eyes in its direction, she remembered what had happened there last week. She frowned. She wondered if her doll was still in there.
She began making her way over to it. She stopped after a few steps.
So what if it was still in there? she thought. It wasn’t as if she could go climbing into it to fish it back out. In fact, Mother had warned her on pain of death never to go even near the well again, if she was all by herself. In no uncertain terms, she had made it clear that if, for whatever reason, Ahbi should find herself at the bottom of that thing just one more time, no one will be coming around to get her out, and that was a promise.
Ahbi glanced to her left and right. Peering over toward the nearest house on the edge of the clearing, she caught the wan light of a flickering candle flame wafting out past its window.
She smiled. Ah, but I’m not really all by myself, am I? She started walking again.
Besides, I’m just going to have one quick look…
She hurried over to the edge of the well and took a peek downward. She squinted. She couldn’t see much. It was just too dark. She didn’t want to lean too far over the edge. That’s how it had happened last time.
As she straightened up again, she sighed. If only she had a light. She shook her head and pouted. No, if only she had someone to help her, to give her a hand. Someone older, or taller. Maybe like an older brother…or maybe even older than that. She swivelled around and slumped to the dirt, leaning her back against the wall of the well. Let’s face it. There were many things that Ahbi wished she had…
***
“Mother?”
Mother turned her eyes away from the window, to face the voice that had called out and startled her. She had been holding something in her hand, but now she was shoving it into her pocket in a hurry. Getting up from the edge of the bed, she approached the little girl standing with her back against the door.
“Mother?”
“Ahbi.” Mother smiled and opened her arms to her daughter.
Melting, Ahbi drifted into them at once, her thoughts and her troubles for now forgotten. “What were you doing, Mother?”
Mother eased her daughter away a little. She reached out her fingers and brushed the child’s locks back into place. “Do you like it here, Ahbi?”
Ahbi frowned. “What do you mean? You mean in this house?”
Mother shook her head. “Would you like to see your father again?”
Ahbi smiled, as she began nodding like mad.
She stopped. She bit her lip. “Is father very tall?”
Mother frowned. “Not very. He is tall enough, though.”
“What does he look like?”
Mother smiled. “He is the most handsome man I have ever seen. He is the bravest, the most intelligent, the kindest…”
“Why did he leave us? Why doesn’t he come back?”
“He had to leave to find a new place for us to live. A place where people are…different. A place where we can start over, and make new friends so that everyone around us would love us.”
Ahbi smiled. “I think I’d like that.”
Mother turned her face to the window. A whisper escaped her lips. “…a place with running water…”
Ahbi heard. “Running water? What’s that?”
She turned back to her daughter. She tapped her on the nose. “It is a glorious invention! People wait on you outside, day and night, and whenever you shout and ask for it, they would draw out water from a well, and send it gushing into pipes that run right into your house.”
Ahbi’s eyes were as saucers. “Really? It must get terribly hot to stand outside all day.” Frowning, she shook her head. “I don’t think I believe that.”
“No, you must believe it, because it is true. If your father said so, it must be true.”
“My father said that?”
“Yes. Your father knows everything.”
Shuying helped her daughter clean up and get ready for bed. She guided Ahbi into it, and then slipped the covers over her. Smiling, she bent over and gave the little girl one last peck on the forehead. Ahbi yawned and closed her eyes.
Shuying smiled. She reached out to brush away a few strands of stray hair from her daughter’s face. Stepping back, she stopped and stared down at the girl’s tiny form in the cot for a moment.
Five years, Shuying thought to herself, as she touched the tip of her daughter’s nose. Has it been that long? Has it only been that long?
She shook her head.
No matter, time passes, and changes come. As they always have. As they always will. Shuying knew this and never doubted it for a moment. Yes, things had looked stable enough for a while, even for all the time after Yixi had left Hainan for Hong Kong. Nainai had still ruled then, and though she was only a woman, she was fair and knew much.
All of that changed six months ago, when the old matriarch’s health had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, to the point where she could not even sit up in bed anymore. She had caught a chill somehow, and then with each and every day that passed she became all the more weak. And with each and every evening that passed, the gleam in Yingjing’s eyes became all the more bright.
When Nainai passed away, no one was surprised. Only the hired mourners had cried at the funeral. No one else did, not even Shuying, and certainly not Yingjing. Shuying remembered well the look on Yingjing’s face at the ceremony.
Yes, changes were coming, they were coming indeed.
No matter. Time passes.
One more week, Shuying thought. One more week.
She shook her head again and frowned, and then leaving her daughter to her dreams, Shuying turned around and eased herself down to the floor. She settled herself onto it and leaned her back up against the edge of the bed. She sighed. Reaching into her pocket, she teased out again the things that had been given to her earlier in the day. She removed these items one by one, and laid them down beside her on the dirt floor.
One of these was a letter.
In all the years that Yixi had been away, this was the first time she had ever received a letter from him. She had continued to get news about him over this time, of course, mostly from Yijiau, but always through what the man was able to tell him by word of mouth, and never by ones written in a letter. Every now and then, Yijiau would come by to visit her and tell her that her husband was all right, and safe, and healthy. He would tell her that Yixi was still working very hard on the Island of Hong Kong, and that everything was working out well, and not to worry.
But that was all. Every time he came, he would not, or could not tell her anything more than that. There was never a word of where Yixi was staying exactly, or if or when he might be coming back. Not a word. Ever.
And of course, Shuying had always known why. If the communists ever found out that the Ying family was still in communication with and so were sympathetic to a fled tyrant, a previous landowner, an oppressor of the people…well! It made Shuying shudder to think of the consequences.
And so for these many years, no, there were never any letters, any written news of her husband, only words to be spoken, and then later denied if need be.
No letters. No postcards. Nothing.
Until now.
She picked up the letter from the floor. She must have already read it twenty times through today. Still, she could feel the moisture welling up in her eyes, as she unfolded it one crease after another and then laid it out flat on her lap. She blinked quickly. She took a big breath in and out. Squinting, she began poring over the deeply etched out characters sprawled all over the wrinkled paper once more.
My dear wife,
It has been a long time. I know you must hate me for what I have done. I know I would if it were me.
But you are not.
It has been difficult for you. I know this too. Would it help if I told you that you have always been in my thoughts, both by day and by night? That no matter where I went, which skies were within my reach, or which ocean I held within my cup, it was always your face that I saw, your laughter that I heard singing inside my head?
It has been difficult for me too, but only for the fact you were not with me.
I had wanted to write to you for the longest time, to tell you about all the things that have been happening to me, the things that I have done, the things that I have seen, but I didn’t. There was a reason for that, one that I’m sure you know already. As there is a reason for why I am writing to you now. But first, you must pay close attention and do all that I tell you.
I know that you must be holding the money in your hand, right now, even as you are reading this. Yijiau is a good man and I trust him. With this money, you will be able to pay off the Fungs once and for all, principal and interest—everything. There should be more than enough there. With what will be left over, you should give it to Yijiau once more, to look after the rest of the family for a while—buy the things that will be needed, repair the things that need repairing. Also, I want you to tell him to start up the store again. He was with me in the beginning. I think he should still remember how to do it right. Tell him that I know I am asking him for much, as much as I have always asked of him, but please make him understand.
As for you, my wife, I ask only this.
A ship will arrive in Qionghai next week. You should have two tickets to board this ship that came also with this letter. One for Bilai, and one for yourself.
It has been a long time. Five years can change many things. I know you must hate me for all that I have done. And perhaps you should. But I will be on that boat coming to Qionghai, and if I am right, if I am right about you, my wife, I will see the two of you on it. If I am wrong, then I will remain upon this boat, and sail away again, never to return to this Island anymore.
After you have read this letter, you must destroy it. No one else must know that I am coming back.
Yixi
Shuying laid the letter down to one side and retrieved the other items from the floor. One of them was the wad of cash that Yixi had mentioned in the letter. She stuffed that into her pocket. Then there were the tickets, and then last of all, something else she hadn’t seen for quite a while.
Candy.
A chip of rock candy.
Shuying lifted it to her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply and long of its clean and pungent aroma…
Opening her eyes again, Shuying stood up. She sighed. She treaded over to the candle on the table, and made to place the letter in her hand into the waiting, yellow flame. She stopped. With her hand still held out toward the fire, she waited there with the paper not two inches from its hungry jaws, motionless. As she watched in silence, a breeze swept through the room and the conflagration shivered and spat, cursing at the chill of the wind.
Shuying let her arm fall back to her side.
Bending her face to the candle, she inhaled deeply and blew it out. Smoke trailed off into the night. With care, she returned the letter into the folds hidden within her clothes, and then lay down beside her slumbering daughter and closed her eyes.
***
Time flowed onward and a week trickled by. It was the day before the ship was due to come in, and there were clouds in the sky and it rained. Shuying made sure not to do anything out of the ordinary. She worked in the fields all day, and everyone saw her and said hello, and no one could say that there was anything different about her. When she returned home in the evening, she gave Ahbi her meal and then put her to bed as usual. She waited until the little girl fell asleep.
Shuying began her packing then, going through the meagre belongings that she dared to call her own. Using a bed sheet, she tied up all of these in a bundle, and then stuffed into it, last of all, the yellow and white wildflowers that she had picked earlier in the day. With this done, she set herself down in a chair by the window, watching the rain, and waited for the approach of midnight.
The hour came. Shuying edged her way over to the side of Ahbi’s bed. She dressed the little girl without waking her. She hoisted her daughter into her arms, and then looped her pack up and over one shoulder.
Poking her head out of the doorway, she checked to her left and right.
Nobody was there.
She took a big breath in and out.
Mouthing a silent prayer at the last, she dipped her toes past the threshold and waded into the morning, where its liquid darkness was all too happy to envelope her and drink her in like oil.
The rain had stopped.
Shuying kept her head down as she stole through the village and met no one. She kept her feet moving, not slowing down at all, until she had reached the entrance to Sanjia, where she halted and turned around. She stared at the gates, the perimeter that had yesterday marked her life, and remembered the first time that she had come to this very spot. It had rained that day too. She bowed her head three times, to thank Heaven for bringing her here, then another three for delivering her away.
Turning aside from the entrance, she pointed herself down the road.
She did not look back again.
She trudged the two miles out past the edge of Sanjia, to the bush by the side of the road where she had hidden a bicycle some two days earlier. Getting on the vehicle, she shoved off but not for Qionghai City. There were two more people she needed to see first of all.
Breathing hard and sweating, she fought her way up the mountain path, to the gravesite where Yixi’s grandfather and mother had both been buried, one right next to the other. She picked her way along with care, for though the rain had stopped coming down for a while now, the trail had turned muddy and treacherous because of it. When she arrived at the site, she placed the sleeping Ahbi down on the ground, and propped her up against the side of Mother’s headstone. Fishing out the flowers from her sack, she placed these in the mounds in front of the graves. The yellow ones had always been Nainai’s favourite. She lit a few stalks of incense. She placed these in the mounds as well, and then said a prayer for each, knowing in her heart that they saw everything and knew everything, looking down from where they must be now.
Picking Ahbi up once more, she made her way back down the hill, and left that place behind. As she pedaled along on her bicycle, she bent her mind to it again, and knew that there was nothing else that needed doing. No other places to go. No other people to see. She looked up into the sky.
There was no one else.
No one and nothing.
For Shuying, of the family of Law, of the Island of Hainan, there was nothing left for her now, but Qionghai, and its harbour, and the ship that waited for her there.
***
The sun was up and bright already by the time Shuying stepped onto the dock. She moved to stand by the edge of the water and stared out as far as she could to sea. The morning fog still held the area in its grip, and it rolled over the boardwalk in swathes of grey and misty white. Shuying would look down at her feet and at times, she couldn’t see them. About a hundred yards beyond the edge of the pier, drifting in and out of the mist in stages, a long, iron ship was anchored. It was a far larger one than Shuying had ever seen before in her life, with several decks as well as round little windows all in a row on the side. Gulls flew by overhead. They called to one another. A series of rowboats stood ready by the far side of the pier, to ferry the passengers onto the bigger ship. Many people were already lined up with suitcases in their hands, and smiling as they waited to board these boats.
Ahbi was still sleeping on her mother’s shoulder. The bundle of her belongings lay at her feet. Shuying gawked at the waiting passengers and frowned, not knowing what to do next. There was a man who was checking the tickets of these people before they boarded. Shuying was holding her own tickets in her hand, but she didn’t go up to him. She shuffled off to one side, away from the line. She searched among the people who were getting ready to go, but she didn’t know any of the faces.
Time passed and the crowd thinned.
“Mother…” Ahbi stirred in her arms.
“Yes, baby?”
The little girl straightened up. She rubbed her eyes. “I’m thirsty.”
Shuying nodded. Making her way back to the other end of the dock, she treaded over to where she had seen buckets and a faucet by the side of one of the buildings earlier.
She took small steps, being wary of the fog and the puddles of rain that had gathered in the night. She had a tough time of it, staring over Ahbi’s shoulder to peer down at her toes to see her way so she wouldn’t trip.
She crouched down by the tap. She eased Ahbi to the ground beside her. Shuying had never seen a water pump before and didn’t know how it worked. But she didn’t have to, because it was already leaking on its own. She placed her hand beneath the falling drops and waited until it filled.
“Come,” she said to her daughter. Shuying took the water, dripping and wet, and brought it to Ahbi’s lips.
Her daughter slurped it up. “Mother, I want more.”
“Easy now.” Shuying placed her hand beneath the faucet again. She kept her eyes down and on the tap. She wasn’t paying attention to anything else.
And so she didn’t notice, when out of the swaying mist, a pair of shoes floated up and stopped, to stand planted by the side of the spigot.
“Here,” said a voice in Hainan, “allow me.”
Water gushed out in torrents.
Shuying jumped out of the way, pulling her daughter after her.
The burst from the spout splattered all over the ground and the boardwalk and wet it down, darkening the wood in patches. It was too much. It was too much water. It was enough to quench a hundred little girls and two hundred Shuying’s and their families. It was enough to water fields even if they stretched to the horizon, as far as the eye could see. It was enough to bring green to entire hillsides, to give life to farms and nourish livestock, and bring joy and abundance to many.
Shuying lifted her eyes.
A familiar face smiled at her.
A familiar face. A familiar smile.
Shuying took a breath into her lungs and found that she trembled with it. She lost her balance as she crouched there beside her daughter, and tipped backward and sat down.
She swallowed. She blinked. As she climbed back to her feet, she pressed her fingers on the boardwalk and felt it pressing back on her. The wood was real. As real as the salt wafting in off the ocean. As real as the sound of the water lapping against the pier. As real as the sun, the vanishing fog. As real as his smile, his clothes, the mud on his shoes or the yellow flower sitting in his overcoat pocket by the side of his lapel.
The man approached them. He bent down in front of the little girl. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a lollipop, all pink in a crinkly plastic wrap.
He stretched out his hand and offered it to her. “Here.” He smiled.
Ahbi stared at him, unblinking. She turned slightly, tilting her face up and back toward her mother.
“Go on.” Shuying nudged her on the shoulder. “Go on.”
Ahbi stretched out her arm, slowly, all the while not taking her eyes off the smiling man in front of her. She took the candy in her hand.
He let it go. He nodded.
Ahbi drew it in toward her, and held it against her bosom, unsmiling, unblinking. She didn’t go to unwrap it.
The man stood up.
“Come,” he said. Turning around, he led them toward the ticket master at the end of the pier. Boarding the small rowboat by the side of the dock, they set off for the larger ship still anchored out in the bay.
***
Ahbi sat in the rowboat next to her mother and watched as the harbour eased further and further away from them. She noticed a piece of paper in her mother’s coat pocket, one worn and tired from having been folded, opened, and then re-folded again. Without asking for her mother’s permission, she reached for it and lifted it out of its resting place.
A gust of wind swirled by and snatched it from the little girl’s hand. It floated along in the breeze, over the rising and falling of the water, to land at the side of a young man sitting along the edge of the pier with a fishing pole in his hand. Frowning, the boy picked it up.
Ahbi stood up on her seat and nearly fell. Her mother reached out and steadied her. After regaining her balance, Ahbi peered back into the distance and was surprised to find that the boy by the pier was now no bigger than a doll. The doll was now waving his hand in the air, so its sleeve was flapping up and down in the breeze. The boat swayed with the motion of the sea, and if she let her mind go, it looked to Ahbi as if the whole world was wavering up and down, an impossible, movable mountain that was undulating high and low, swimming, almost drowning in a gigantic bowl of soup.
Mmmm….soup. Ahbi had always loved soup.