CHAPTER
24

Ignoring Yishan’s further questions, Yanna hurried them onward, though not as quickly as before. However, ­Pinmei’s thoughts continued to race. Eastern side, western side? Why? Did it have anything to do with Amah? If Amah was here, could they find her? Pinmei gazed upward, trying to calm herself.

It was then that she noticed the beams and ceiling of the corridor were painted with hundreds of scenes from different stories. The Old Man of the Moon with his bag of red threads, the Spirit of the Mountain holding up the moon as only he could… Pinmei recognized them all. Yanna noticed her gaze.

“The Long Walkway is supposed to show a picture from every important legend,” she said. “They say a new painting appears right before a story of greatness is about to be told.”

“I wonder what kind of magic can do that,” Lady Meng said, looking up in appreciation.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” the servant girl said, even while urging them forward, “but these were all created over a hundred years ago by the master painter Chen, who was supposed to have a magic paintbrush or inkstone or something like that. He even painted a picture of a dragon that came to life.”

“Is that in one of the paintings?” Yishan said, teasing.

“Yes,” Pinmei said softly. She had seen the image of a red dragon flying off a paper as they had rushed pass.

“Anyway,” Yanna said, not hearing Pinmei’s whisper, “it’s not like anyone would be able to prove it either way. You’d have to know thousands and thousands of stories to know all the pictures. I walk here all the time and I don’t know any of the ones we just passed.”

“None?” Pinmei said, her shock making her voice louder than she’d intended.

Yishan gave a sly grin. “I bet Pinmei knows all of them,” he said.

Yanna turned to look at Pinmei, who would have flushed if her cheeks had not already been red from the cold. “Do you?” Yanna asked.

Pinmei gave a tiny shrug and nodded.

Yanna stopped walking. “We can take another rest,” she said, and then waved up toward one of the ceiling beams. She looked at Pinmei. “Do you know that one?”

It had begun to snow again, and despite the walkway’s canopy, the snowflakes flew in like fine silver threads. But Pinmei could still easily see the painting. It was a picture of a young girl and her parents standing before a king. In the girl’s arms, there was a large ­bowl with a smiling fish in it.

“It’s the Story of How a Girl Brought Joy to the Heart of a King,” Pinmei said.

“Well, now you have to tell it,” Yanna said, and a crooked smile formed on her face. It fit her face so perfectly that Pinmei realized Yanna’s serious manner was a new occurrence. “Can you?”

“Of course she can,” Yishan said, and Lady Meng nodded in agreement. Pinmei hesitated, but looked at their expectant ­faces—­proud, encouraging, ­daring—­and felt the stone of Amah’s bracelet on her wrist, strong and smooth. Pinmei took a deep breath, and when she exhaled, the air steamed from her mouth, curving like the tail of a dragon before disappearing. She began the story.

When the first king of the City of Bright Moonlight came to power, the people had no love for their new ruler. The past ruler had taxed them heavily and punished them harshly, and they had no hope for better. So when word came that the new king was coming to visit, all trembled.

“He’s coming to see if he can raise our taxes!” a woman wailed.

“Anything he sees, he will take for a tribute,” another cried.

The villagers began to panic and hid their most valued possessions. Gold ingots, ivory chopsticks, even prized crickets were secreted away. Anything beloved or cherished was put out of sight.

One girl in the village had a special treasure. It was a fish. But it was not an ordinary fish. It was a fish of great beauty, silver like the moon and as lively as a butterfly in spring. The girl claimed she had found the fish in a rubbish pile outside a rich home when she traveled to a far town, but no one believed her. Even when she pointed at the fine scar that ran through the fish’s fin where she said she had mended it, her parents told her to stop being ridiculous.

Nevertheless, the fish was admired and beloved by the whole village. The youngest child to the oldest, grumpiest elder would come daily just to see it. “Your little fish,” the girl’s mother told her, shaking her head with a smile. “It just brings joy to the heart.”

So, of course, when the news of the king’s visit was heard, all expected the girl to hide the fish. “I can help you make a special cover to hide the tub,” one villager offered. “There might be room in my hollow tree if you want to hide it there,” another said. But the girl shook her head. Instead, she kneeled beside her fish, deep in thought.

“You must hurry,” her mother scolded her. “If you don’t find a place to hide your fish, the king will take it when he comes.”

“He may have it,” the girl said. “It will be my gift.”

“What?” her father said. “Don’t be silly. The king doesn’t need your fish. He will just take it and your treasure will be lost.”

“How can you say that?” the girl said. “A king needs joy brought to his heart too.”

The parents looked at each other, and nothing more about the fish was said.

When the king arrived, he was saddened by his reception. He knew the people did not trust him, but he did not know how to gain their faith. He received each obligatory gift knowing that the good wishes that went with it were false and the respectful bows were shallow. It is not even worth trying, the king thought, gloom overwhelming him. I will return to the palace today.

“More villagers, Your Majesty,” a servant said.

The king looked up, expecting to see another family with smiles of clenched teeth. Instead, he saw a glistening fish frolicking in the water. It jumped a perfect arch, its scales shimmering a rainbow, then dived straight ­down—­splashing the king with such glee he could not help laughing aloud.

“See?” the girl said to her parents. “I told you.”

The king wiped the drops of water from his face, but the smile remained. “What do you mean?” the king said before the girl’s parents could hush her. “What did you tell them?”

Slowly, and uncomfortably for the parents, the story was told. The king wiped his face again, but this time the wetness was not from the splashes of the fish.

“You are right,” the king told the girl, and his deep black eyes met her shining ones. “A king does need joy brought to his heart. I thank you for doing so.”

“But I cannot take your beloved fish from you,” he continued. “You may keep it.”

“Oh no,” the girl said, and the parents put in hastily, “it’s our tribute gift.”

“It would be unfair to the other villagers,” the king’s assistant murmured, “and it would break tradition.”

“Ah… yes,” the king said. He looked again at the twinkling fish. “Then let me make it a gift. I will set it free in the lake, and it can continue to bring joy to the hearts of all the villagers.”

“But what of your own?” the girl asked.

“The fish has already brought joy to my heart,” the king said, “as have you.”

And all the villagers who witnessed this exchange felt a stirring within them as well. Perhaps, they thought, they had judged this new king too quickly. They began to whisper kinder and more hopeful words about the king, and those words traveled with him as he carried on his tour. Because instead of returning to the palace, the king continued going to each village so he could become the leader he wished to be, heartened by the joy brought by the fish.

“I like that,” Lady Meng said as Pinmei finished. “Especially because the first king of the City of Bright Moonlight is known for being the greatest ruler in the city’s history. All his descendants, including King KaeJae, revere him.”

“Well, it’s too bad it’s just a story,” Yanna said, her crooked smile appearing again. The wind loosened a lock of her hair, and it danced freely among the flying snowflakes. “But it was good one.”