Mother remained silent. Then suddenly, for the first time in my life, she held me in her arms and wept with me. The sons had taken the funds and the keys for themselves; the nephews had announced that they would take charge of our assets and be masters of our fate.
IN HIS YOUTH, Father had married a commoner who had given him sons. It was after her death that he obeyed the sovereign’s order and married my mother. Even when I was very little, I understood that Father had begat two different worlds. My sisters and I were sunlight and beauty; my brothers, dark, ill-dressed creatures, were the echo of an indelible former life. They had become officials and rarely came home. Father, who had always been so authoritarian toward his subordinates and so severe with us, had given in to his sons’ arrogance. He had tried to buy their favor by showering them with gifts. Arguments flared between my parents: Mother would complain about their harsh words and vindictive expressions; Father would defend them, claiming that they were shy and wary of us. Mother pronounced the terrible word “hate.” She said they would never forgive her for taking his first wife’s place.
At night I would paint Father’s face feature by feature: his wide forehead; his pronounced wrinkles; and his square jaw beneath his beautiful, long, white beard. Officials had greeted him with respect, and the common people had prostrated themselves at his feet. One after another they had come before him to plead their case and beg for justice. Father listened to them patiently and gave each of them a reply. He spoke slowly and firmly, intimidating them with his gaze. His physique seemed to occupy a space so fully that it could reach the vaulted ceiling of a pavilion held up by massive pillars. Then I would picture him in his bed clothes, a gray, silk tunic over a white under-robe, held by a mauve sash. He would be reading, leaning his head on one hand that bore an emerald ring carved in the shape of a tiger’s head. He would call me over: “Heavenlight, come and read with me.” For hours on end he would talk to me about mountains and rivers; he would draw the canals he was having dug to link up the rivers and irrigate the fields. Dawn would come, and Father would leave, taking Glory and Magnificence with him. The world that opened before me now was a dark, narrow, insignificant place.
A new governor had arrived, and we had to vacate the residence for him and go with my brothers to take the coffin to the motherland. We waited for winter before starting out. The caravans of carriages drawn by oxen and horses set off toward that distant land in the north. Men, women, and children dressed in linen tunics with white headbands round their foreheads followed us out of the town of Jing in tears.
I was leaving my town of stone and winged horses. The River Long and the roar of the waves disappeared. I abandoned the tame cormorants and the bobbing junks tossed into the sky. The cavernous temples, the nuns, and the little fishing girls vanished with the wafting incense. Farewell, moon, you who lit the battles of old, you who guided warriors as they rode recklessly through the night. You who know the secrets of my destiny, give me a well-honed weapon, give me your blessing!
TWO
The horizon kept receding further. The road forked and melted into the sun. The roar of the River Han and the seagulls’ cries disappeared. The greens, blues, ochres, and mirrored reflections of the paddy-fields vanished. On the far side of the River Huai, the hills smoothed out, and the trees had lost their leaves. Rivers and dry reeds sprang out of the black earth and its metallic glitter. The wind whipped up, squally gusts tormented the fields, and straggly wheat stalks moaned. The horses and oxen lowered their heads to battle against the wind. Little Sister had taken refuge in my carriage; wrapped in furs, we tried in vain to keep warm. All day long I listened to pebbles clattering against the wheels and the howling of the north wind, which deadened my thoughts. My heart was dry; I had no tears left.
One morning, in that ocean of uninterrupted buffeting, I discovered the Yellow River stretching its frozen length away toward the sky. Countless trading caravans had already carved a white track through the ice. Early that afternoon it snowed: The snowflakes of the north, larger than a child’s hand, were like millions of birds twirling in the sky. Black and gray became opacity and transparency. The wind dropped. We were dark smudges strung out across this immaculate world as we forged ahead.
Ten days later, just as the fleeting sunlight was about to be eclipsed behind the mountains, hundreds of men and women dressed in white appeared in the snow waving funeral banners. My brothers and cousins dismounted and ran over to meet them.
My heart felt constricted. The thing I so feared was about to happen: I would discover my origins.
A great uncle, head of the Wu clan, took us to the village. My brothers prostrated themselves in the Temple of Ancestors to announce our return. An ageing aunt, mistress of all the women, took us into a house lit by white lanterns. The meal provided for us in mourning was ice cold. Somewhere a dog howled. In the middle of the night, Little Sister came to join me, and we shivered in my bed, which was hard as a sheet of iron.
The next day, in Father’s old bedroom, I witnessed the calling of his soul. The coffin and offerings were positioned behind a curtain of gauze. Members of the family tore their clothes and beat their foreheads on the ground, wailing and lamenting. The sorcerer danced until a powerful voice rose up from his throat. He turned to face the north, where the Kingdom of Shades is to be found, and shook one of Father’s tunics, calling on him and singing: