Year of the Golden Dragon (3 page)

Later, when Hong Mei’s schoolmates saw her, they said nothing about her smelling any different. In fact, they didn’t talk at all, they were laughing so hard. When someone finally spat some words out, it was to call her a “needle animal.” They laughed even harder after that.

Hong Mei walked away wishing she could have turned those girls into the hedgehogs they’d called her. Of course, she couldn’t do anything quite that dramatic. Sure, she knew how to create huge red boils that would cover their bodies. Or perhaps she’d use the one that would give them an invisible rash to drive them crazy with its itch. Yes, she wanted to see them suffer…but using her mother’s techniques in a devious way would be breaking her vow. Everything she learned from her mother had to be used for improving someone’s life, not for making it worse.

Now, as Hong Mei sat in the near-empty café, she reached up and felt the sharp, ink-black spikes of her hair. She pressed down on her head with both hands. Releasing them, her hair sprang back up again. Since she’d started using her mother’s words every night, her hair was growing quite quickly – just not as fast as she wanted it to.

Hong Mei looked over at Mrs. Wu sitting at the coffee bar. She knew the woman wouldn’t check up on her until the perfumed smoke drifted toward Hong Mei. Today, she was thankful for the old bat’s insulting habit. It gave Hong Mei the time she needed.

After typing in her email address, she saw that, just like yesterday, she had mail. It was even from the same sender: Order of Monastic Studies – Beijing.

Opening it, Hong Mei read:

Dear Miss Chen Hong Mei,

As stated in our previous email, we wish to acknowledge that we have urgent information regarding your father. If you would like us to inform you of this news, we must first verify your identity.

The only true way of ensuring that you are the daughter of Chen Chu Lei is by having a small sample of your blood taken for DNA testing. Since you are sixteen years old and considered an adult under monastic law, you do not need a parent’s permission to have the procedure done.

We must also reiterate how crucial it is to keep knowledge of this message and its contents to yourself. It is imperative that you do not share this information with ANYONE. If it is discovered that you have discussed any part of this communication, we will halt our process of reunification.

At this time of year, when all families come together to celebrate the Lunar New Year, it is our sincere wish that yours be one of these.

Please respond immediately to this email if you would like to be responsible for the happy and joyful return of your father.

Sincerely,Madam ChingBeijing Representative for the Order of Monastic Studies

Hong Mei unconsciously raised a finger to her mouth to nibble at the short nail of her pinky. Realizing what she was doing, she pulled her hand away, reaching instead into the front pocket of her jeans. She took out a small, milky-green piece of jade and placed it gently between her lips. The feeling of the cool stone made her forget about biting her nails.

Hong Mei had got the idea of using the jade to break her habit from a former teacher who had used the same technique to stop a student whispering the words she was reading. The teacher had told the girl to hold a pencil between her top and bottom lips.

Hong Mei found it worked equally well with either her flat, triangular stone or a writing instrument. But she was careful to only use a pencil or pen at home. She didn’t want Mama finding out Hong Mei had her father’s precious jade.

As she stared at the message before her, she thought back to the
gong fu
exercises her father had put her through when she was young. As she had grown older, Baba became more strict and demanding, often making her practice until she cried with exhaustion. That was when Mama tried to come to her daughter’s rescue.

“Let her rest,” Mama would say. “She is only a child.”

“Yes, wife,” he’d answer. “And she is only a
female
child.”

Those words always made Hong Mei stop crying.

“She must work extra hard to overcome this disadvantage,” Baba would say. “Chen Hong Mei represents a brave and noble clan. By being prepared, she will show respect to our ancestors when she meets Black Dragon.”

At the mention of Black Dragon, Hong Mei would avoid looking at her mother, knowing what came next.

“I truly wish I had a remedy for madness,” Mama would say to Hong Mei, “for I believe your baba is going crazy.”

As always, this was the point the argument really got heated. “Crazy?” Baba would say, his brown eyes flashing dark. “You call me crazy for believing in Black Dragon? What about your spooky charms and strange spells? What makes them real and Black Dragon not?”

“Ssh! Keep your voice down, husband. You know that every time I cure someone, it proves the age-old magic behind my words.”

This statement always seemed to make her father reconsider his words, or at least, to calm him down. But one fateful night, Baba’s voiced swelled and filled their apartment, threatening to burst open the windows.

“Soon!” he boomed. “When the mighty Black Dragon walks among us, you will know the meaning behind real power.”

That was one of the last arguments Hong Mei had witnessed and it had been several years and countless villages ago.

Hong Mei turned back to the email and hit the reply button. She quickly wrote that she was Chen Hong Mei, daughter of Chen Chu Lei, and that she would be able to prove this by having her blood tested. She checked for mistakes and seeing none, she clicked
send
.

Hong Mei sat staring at the screen for a moment or two. Just as she was about to log off, Hong Mei noticed the yellow message light blinking in the corner of the screen. Hitting the button to retrieve the message, she saw that it was from the Order of Monastic Studies in Beijing.

That was weird. Was it an automated reply? Looking up, she searched for Mrs. Wu’s steel-coloured hair. She saw the woman pointing at the clock on the wall. Hong Mei ignored her. Focusing on the computer screen again, she opened the email and started reading. It was a reply to her response. Her breath caught in her chest. How could they send her something so quickly?

Dear Miss Chen,

We have received your response and would like to inform you that you may have your blood tested in Beijing at 3:00 pm tomorrow afternoon.

Following are the directions to our institute, which is located within walking distance of Beijing Central Train Station.

Send us your response regarding this appointment as soon as possible.

Regards,Madam ChingBeijing Representative for the Order of Monastic Studies

Tomorrow? Right at the start of the Lunar New Year holidays? Shouldn’t all colleges and institutes be closed by now? Her own school had already shut its doors.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hong Mei saw movement. Mrs. Wu was heading toward her. She definitely didn’t want the old lady finding out about this. The news would reach her mother before Hong Mei even got home.

She looked back and forth between Mrs. Wu’s pinched face and the computer screen. As the woman got closer, Hong Mei saw her lift a handkerchief to her nose.

Hong Mei typed in yes and scanned the directions to the institute before logging off. She jumped up, threw some money on the table and fled.

So what if the old biddy thought she stank. She’d show her.

Chapter 2

The Journey East

Ryan, wake up! We’re landing pretty soon,”
Alex said, elbowing his older brother in the ribs.

“Don’t!” Ryan pulled the airline blanket up around his neck and edged closer to the window. The seat belt stopped him. Why did Uncle Peter always insist they keep their seat belts buckled for the entire flight? It made sleep practically impossible.

Ryan groaned and, with his eyes still closed, twisted his body back to face the front of the plane. His stomach growled. He wished he’d packed more snacks for the trip. He hadn’t expected the airplane food to be quite so awful.

Shortly after taking off from Vancouver, they’d been served a dinner of stringy chicken, crusty rice and fruit salad. Thankfully, everyone had also been given one soft white bread roll. Ryan ate quickly, then told his brother to get him another one.

“Why me?” Alex asked. “You ask her.”

“You’re the one with the aisle seat. Hurry up or it’ll be too late.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t panic,” said Alex. “Excuse me?” he said, showing off a toothy grin. “Could my brother have another one, please?”

The stewardess looked back with an equally charming smile and said, “Of course. Would you like two more?”

“Okay. Thanks,” Alex said as she placed the rolls onto their trays.

“Good job,” Ryan said.

Alex eyed the untouched butter on Ryan’s plate. “Can I have that?” he asked, pointing at it with his knife.

“Sure,” Ryan shrugged. “You know I hate the stuff.”

“Hate’s a pretty strong word to use for butter,” Alex said as he smeared the top of his roll with it. “Uncle Peter always says –”

Ryan cut him off. “Save the lecture. I’ve already heard it.”

Sipping at some water, Ryan looked up at the television screen and put his headphones back on to continue watching the movie. The inflight magazine had labelled it as a comedy, but it was turning out to be a lot more like a
romantic
comedy. So far, he hadn’t laughed once.

After awhile, he got bored and decided to sleep.

A short time later he woke up, his neck stiff and sore. He realized there was no question about it. He
hated
flying economy class and he didn’t care if Uncle Peter thought that word was too strong. He knew those lucky passengers sitting near the front of the plane had fully reclining seats. He knew they had good food. And he knew they had better movies and video games. Someday he’d be old enough and rich enough to sit in Business Class – maybe even First Class.

Ryan reached forward to the seat pocket in front of him and felt for his wire-rimmed glasses. When he got to Nana and Yeye’s, he was going to sleep for a week. That was after he’d eaten his fill of his grandmother’s homemade
jiaozi
. He could taste the savoury meat-filled dumplings already. His stomach growled again.

He heard Alex giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

Alex pointed at the sleeping couple across the aisle. Aunt Grace’s head rested on Uncle Peter’s shoulder, her blonde hair falling forward. Their uncle was sitting straight up with his head thrown back. The snores escaping from his nose and mouth were making everyone around them grin.

“Should I take a picture of them?” Alex asked.

Ryan nodded. His little brother looked so awake. How did he manage it? Had he slept at all?

Ryan watched Alex reach down to the bag stuffed under the seat in front of him. As he searched for his camera, his jade pendant swung out from under his shirt.

Alex stood up and leaned over Aunt Grace and Uncle Peter. He aimed his disposable camera at them and clicked.

The brightness of the flash woke his uncle, who snapped his mouth shut and blinked dark eyes at the two boys. Uncle Peter frowned and ran his fingers through his short black hair. He yawned and stretched, waking his wife.

“Put that thing away,” mumbled Uncle Peter, but Alex only laughed and took another couple of pictures.

Uncle Peter lifted one eyebrow with feigned annoyance and unbuckled his seat belt before standing up.

“You guys better get cleaned up before we land. We’re going straight out for dinner when we get there and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

Ryan ignored the suggestion. There was no way he was going to use the bathrooms on this plane. They were usually okay at the start of the flight, but by now they’d be disgusting. He’d find a washroom after they’d landed. Everyone else could just wait.

He checked his watch. It was 7:05 pm Hong Kong time. He glanced at the overhead screen and read:

55 Minutes to Destination

Ryan could hardly wait to have a decent meal. They rarely got to eat
real
Chinese food. Alex and Aunt Grace’s idea of “Oriental” food, as she called it, was sweet and sour chicken, egg rolls and chop suey. Uncle Peter had never learned to cook, so he and Ryan relied on trips downtown or to Richmond to seek out their favourite dishes. Who knew where his aunt and Alex went on those evenings if they didn’t stay home – probably some Italian place.