CHAPTER
76
In the City of Bright Moonlight, after the snow had melted away, a boy—or was he a man?—leaned heavily on a stick and shuffled down the Long Walkway to a pavilion. Panting, he rested on its railing. Above, the sky was the brilliant blue court artists could only imagine, and the sun was so warm he was glad to have the shade. He smiled to himself. What a feeling, to be too warm!
“Sifen!” a voice called his name. “Sifen!”
The boy turned and his smile widened. It was Yanna.
“We heard from Old Sai and Suya,” Yanna called out as she ran to him. “They said some men have already returned to the village.”
“Good,” Sifen said. Yanna sat down next to him.
“I bet all the men will be back soon,” Yanna said. “Now that the Vast Wall is abandoned, men have been streaming into the city every day!”
“Has the palace provided for them?” Sifen asked.
“We don’t have to,” Yanna said. “What used to be the House of Wu has opened its doors to all travelers—the new owner, I guess she used to be the servant there—is truly a hero to…”
Yanna stopped in midsentence and rose, looking down the corridor. Sifen pushed himself up with his stick to follow her gaze. Three figures were walking toward them. The bright sun cast them in shadow, but he could see the shapes of a girl, an aged man, and an old woman.
“Who is it?” he asked Yanna.
“My… my… my father!” Yanna almost shrieked, the words trailing behind her as she burst forward, running faster than a flying dragon, to meet the visitors. The silhouette of the man also broke away from his companions, rushing toward Yanna with open arms. The two embraced tightly, laughing and crying at the same time, and Sifen could not help doing the same at the pure joy of their reunion. Even the peonies seemed to be exploding with happiness, their vibrant colors radiating in the sun.
The elderly woman and the young girl stepped forward, their faces also smiling with delight. The boy cocked his head. Did the girl seem familiar? Now she was walking toward him, calling his name. Yes! Now he knew her! She was…
“The Storyteller’s granddaughter!” Sifen laughed. “What are you doing here?”
“Sifen!” Pinmei cried out. “I was about to ask you the same question!”
“Well, I asked first,” Sifen said, grasping Pinmei’s arm.
“We are here to return the stonecutter to his daughter,” Amah said, “and to return a special paper to the king of the City of Bright Moonlight.”
“My father is at his Pavilion of Solitude,” Sifen said, waving his hand toward a remote building far down the lakeside, “painting as usual.”
“Your father?” Pinmei said, and shook her head as she looked at Sifen’s gleeful face. “The king of the City of Bright Moonlight is your father? I should have known.”
Sifen continued to grin, but then, as if remembering his manners, he bowed to Amah. “You must be the Storyteller,” he said, and then looked at Pinmei with sudden concern. “Where is your friend? The boy in red?”
“He too had to return something,” Pinmei said. “But he is probably home now.”
“As I am home now too,” Sifen said, and if it was at all possible, his grin grew broader, as if trying to include the entire garden and sky. “But tell me: What happened? You made it to the city, obviously. Did anything happen on your travels? And what is it your friend had to return?”
“Ahh, young man,” Amah said. “That is quite a story.”
“Good!” Sifen said, and he looked at Pinmei. “You know I love stories.”
Amah smiled and sat down.
Pinmei, however, looked at the decorated beam above her. It was a painting of an old man on a mountain, looking at the sea below. A sea dragon roared up from the waves with a maiden of extraordinary beauty by its side, her arm extended as if she had just caught something. All the creatures of the sea, from a graceful longma to a smiling fish, were bowing toward the mountain in gratitude. Above the sun—or was it the moon?—a rainbow arched in the sky. The painting was so detailed Pinmei could even see that between the fingers of the maiden’s outstretched hand was a thin silver needle.
“Come, then!” Sifen said as Yanna and the stonecutter joined. “Tell the story!”
Pinmei looked down from the painting and saw the eyes of Yanna and the stonecutter, Sifen, and even Amah watching her eagerly. Amah patted her leg.
“Yes,” Amah said, her smile broadening, “tell the story.”
“I will,” Pinmei said, and sat down.
Outside the pavilion, the glowing flowers repeated the colors of the painted rainbow, and the white clouds above echoed the cresting waves of water. Two butterflies, red and blue, flitted together as if writing poems in the air. I will never forget, Yishan had said, and that is truly the only immortality that matters.
Finally understanding, Pinmei closed her eyes, the memories of all she had lost and gained weaving around her in a glorious, invisible tapestry. When she opened her eyes, the others were still staring at her, waiting for her to start the story.
Pinmei smiled and began. “When the sea turned to silver…”