Silver Phoenix (9 page)

Cindy Pon

hefted the bowls and dishes away with graceful ease. Ai Ling watched her retreating back and wondered what her life was like. Was she Lao Song’s daughter? The girl was not wed, by the way she wore her hair.

Ai Ling came from the privileged scholarly class, yet she wouldn’t mind working in a restaurant if it meant she could stay close to her family. She fingered her red satin pouch.

It was not long before the girl came back with a plate of steaming dumplings. She placed a dish of chili paste and ginger in front of Ai Ling, as well as two small ceramic jugs. “Soy sauce and vinegar,” she said. “I’ll bring your tea.”

Ai Ling fixed her bowl with the condiments, just so. Lots of vinegar, light on the ginger and soy sauce, with a dab of chili paste. She swirled the concoction with her eating sticks and bathed the first dumpling. After making sure every bit of it was soaked, she took her fi rst bite. Perfect.

Her server returned with a pot of tea, which she poured into a small chipped ceramic cup.

Ai Ling finished the dumplings too soon. She sipped her tea, observing the other patrons. They were mostly men, and the women who were present were accompanied by men. She was grateful for her corner seat.

A song filled the air. She looked toward the enchanting voice and spotted the singer a few tables down. The woman stood facing an audience of five men, her hair swept up in 32

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elaborate loops and adorned with red jewels. They winked in the sunlight that filtered through the open shutters above.

She wore a flowing sky blue dress with wide sleeves. Ai Ling had guessed she was of high status, an official’s concubine perhaps. Then she noticed that the woman’s top was sheer, very clearly revealing three breasts.

Ai Ling’s empty teacup clattered to the wooden table.

A Life Seeker.

She remembered the drawing from
The Book of the Dead
—a beautiful woman elegantly dressed, her gossamer top showing the contours of her three breasts. The caption below had read:

Emperor Shen of the Lu Dynasty issued a mandate which
forced all Life Seekers to wear sheer tops, denying them the
right to bind their breasts, and therefore baring their identity
to the world. It served as warning for most, but an enticement
for some.

She had reread the paragraphs so often she’d memorized the passages. It was as if she held the book in front of her.

The Life Seeker can be easily distinguished by the extra
breast on her sternum. The tips are dark blue, as are her tongue
and womanhood. Legend has it that the extra breast was given
to replace the heart she does not have. The creature is not
mortal and maintains life through copulation with men. Each
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Cindy Pon

time, she steals a breath from her victim. Her lovers will find
her highly addictive, and most will die without intervention. A
monk is needed to bless the concoction given to the victim, who
must be locked in his own chamber and guarded for sixteen
days and nights. If he breaks free to meet with the Life Seeker,
the cycle begins anew. The creatures never grow old as long as
they are bedding a mortal on a daily basis. If for some reason,
access is denied to the Life Seeker, she will age near a decade
each day she goes without, until she finally withers.

The Life Seeker stopped singing and sashayed back to her audience. The men thumped the table with their fists in approval and lifted their wine cups in salute. One man pulled her into his lap, nuzzling her neck, then holding out a string of gold coins. The seductress took the gift and whispered in his ear. Blue tongue flicking, her eyes locked with Ai Ling’s for one brief moment. Ai Ling wrenched her gaze away, both enthralled and embarrassed.

The man turned his head, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Master Huang! Ai Ling twisted so her back was to him. With an unsteady hand, she fished a silver coin from her satin pouch and put it on the table. She weaved her way through the crowd of diners, her chin tucked, stumbling once over her own feet. She slipped through the carved double doors and nearly slammed into someone.

“Hello, pretty. Where are you rushing off to?” A man blocked the way. He was squat, with broad shoulders and 34

S I LV E R P H O E N I X

powerful arms. He leered up at her, a gaping hole where one front tooth should have been. She could smell the liquor on his breath.

“It isn’t safe for pretty ladies like yourself to travel alone, you know. You need a friend with you. A friend like me.”

The man wiggled his unkempt eyebrows, his face twisted in a lewd sneer.

Ai Ling tried to keep her features blank. “I do have friends, sir. They are inside. I stepped out for some fresh air.” She smiled and hoped her lie was convincing.

“Is that so? I better stay and guard you until they come out.”

He squinted at her. “Why don’t we take a nice stroll while we wait? Are you from up north? So tall and pretty . . .”

The man reached out one filthy hand, making a grab at her wrist.

Such a tasty morsel.

She heard him. But he hadn’t spoken aloud. Ai Ling stumbled back, her stomach seizing as if she’d been kicked.

Warmth flared at her breast, and she looked down—the jade pendant glowed so bright it appeared white.

The man lurched toward her, but stopped to slap his neck.

He grimaced in surprise. She heard an insistent buzzing. A large insect hovered between their faces.

“Curse of a rabid—oww!” More wasps appeared from the eaves above, fl ying straight toward him.

Flailing his arms about his head in panic, he ran into the restaurant, leaving Ai Ling wide-eyed, standing alone in the 35

Cindy Pon

alleyway. Then she bolted toward the main street, one hand clutching the pendant, hot against her skin.

Ai Ling spent her second night in a shed. Two pigs and a few chickens kept her company, their scratching and snuffling noises comforting her. She removed her shoes and winced from the blisters on her toes. Her hand searched for the jade pendant in the dark, and she ran a fingertip over its ridges.

It had burned bright, sent the wasps to her attacker. She couldn’t have imagined it. Had the monk blessed it before giving it to Father? She closed her eyes and saw her father’s face. She wrapped her arms around herself and fell asleep with her back pressed against the pigpen.

The crowing of a rooster startled her awake. She had not seen the creature last night, his chest puffed out now as he strutted among his hens. Light filtered through the cracks of the wooden shed.

She rummaged through her knapsack and retrieved a slice of dried mango and two salted biscuits. Everything tasted stale. Her empty stomach rumbled. But all she could do was fi ll it with the last swallows of water from her fl ask.

She eased the shed door open. The morning air rejuve-nated her as she scanned the horizon. The rays of the sun were just beginning to wash the skyline. She reeked of farm animals and damp hay. Ai Ling scratched her itching scalp and wished for a mirror, then decided it was probably better she didn’t have one.

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She found a well on the other side of the shed and cranked up the heavy wooden pail with stiff arms. The water was biting and cold. She drank half a flask and refilled it. It was time to continue on her journey.

After she’d marched for two hours, the trees thinned, and she caught a glimpse of an expansive lake, a calming sight.

The sky was cloudless. Birds swooped overhead, at times dropping like lightning into the water.

The lake’s surface was still. She walked to the shore, sat down with care on the dirt embankment, and removed her worn cloth shoes. Never before had she walked as much as she had in the past two days. She wiggled her toes, and then massaged the arch of one foot with her thumb.

Ai Ling relaxed, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her shoulders dropped as she pressed her chest against her knees. She dipped both feet into the water. The coolness felt delicious, and she reveled in it, her toes tingling.

She reached for her knapsack and pulled out a small cotton rag. She soaked the cloth in the lake, wrung it dry, and wiped across her brow and cheeks. Her mind drifted to home, a world away now. How was Mother coping? Would she be taking her midday meal?

The water rippled in front of her.

Something slithered and tugged on her right foot.

Startled, Ai Ling recoiled as the thing grabbed her other foot and pulled harder. The force of it slammed her flat on her back.

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