The elder asked if he was sure. Cí said there could be no doubt about it. The family agreed to postpone the burial and go straight to the local magistrate to report the findings.
Cí made a splint for Xu’s finger. When he was done, Xu asked, “Are you crazy or something?”
“Clearly!” Cí said with a laugh.
“Fine! Let’s talk business.”
Cí raised an eyebrow. A short while ago Xu had told him no one would ever bet against him, but now the fortune-teller grinned like a beggar who’d been gifted a palace. Cí didn’t care—his only concern was to obtain a few coins up front so he could pay the innkeeper and get medicine for Third. Night wasn’t far off, and he was growing more and more worried. He told Xu the story of what had happened at the inn, but the man laughed it off.
“Money worries? We’re going to be rich, kid!”
He handed Cí enough money to cover a whole week at the inn. Still chuckling, he took Cí by the hand.
“Now, swear on your honor that you’ll meet me back here tomorrow, first thing.”
Cí counted the money and said that he would.
“Am I going to be fighting?”
“Something far more dangerous, and far better.”
15
For most people, the idea of never feeling pain would seem like a gift from the gods. But Cí knew it was also the stealthiest of enemies. Going along the canal on a barge, he prodded his ribs, checking for any breaks or serious bruising. Then his legs—first rubbing softly, before digging his fingers deeper. The left leg seemed fine, but there were violet-colored bruises all over the right, around the wound. There was nothing he could do but continue to apply the ointment, so he pulled his pant leg down and looked in his bag at the sweet rice buns he’d bought for Third. Picturing her happy face, he smiled. He’d counted the money from the fortune-teller several times now; he could hardly believe how much there was—enough at least for a week’s stay.
When Cí got back he found the innkeeper outside arguing with a shady-looking youth. The innkeeper gestured that Third was upstairs and went back to his argument; Cí went straight up, taking the stairs two at a time. He found Third sleeping peacefully. He didn’t want to wake her to eat, so he stroked her brow softly; she was still running a fever, but it wasn’t nearly as high as it had been. He lay down next to her, said a prayer for his lost family, and, finally, shut his eyes to rest.
There was bad news when he woke up the next morning. The innkeeper was happy to let them stay but said neither he nor Moon could look after Third. Cí couldn’t understand why not.
“What’s to understand?” spat the man as he prepared his breakfast. “This is no place for a child—that’s as clear as can be.”
Cí thought he was after more money. He started to haggle, but this just made the innkeeper angrier.
“Haven’t you seen the kind of people we get around here? They’re scum. If she stays here, you’ll come back one night and find her gone—either that or you’ll find her with her legs akimbo, bleeding from her sacred little cave. Then you’ll try to kill me, so I’ll have to kill you. And really, I’d just prefer the money…Room, yes. Nursery, no.”
Cí was trying to think of a way to change his mind when a half-naked man left one of the rooms—followed by Moon. That was that. Third would have to come with him.
“What do you think this is, an orphanage?” cried Xu when they arrived at the cemetery.
He grabbed Cí and Third by the arms and angrily led them away from the entrance. He shook his head in agitation and scratched at his beard as if he had lice. Then he knelt down and got them to follow suit.
“It doesn’t matter that she’s your sister. She can’t stay.”
“I never get to stay with you,” Third whimpered at Cí.
“She’s with me,” said Cí. “Why can’t she stay?”
“Because…because…What the hell’s a little kid going to do in a cemetery? Do we leave her to play with the dead bodies?”
“Dead bodies are scary,” said Third.
“You be quiet,” said Cí. He looked around, took a deep breath, and held Xu’s stare. “I knew it wasn’t the best idea, but I had no choice. I still don’t know what kind of work you’ve got in mind for me, but she’ll have to stay with us until I find another solution.”
“I see! Perfect! The destitute’s giving his master orders now!” He got up.
“You’re not my master.”
“Maybe not, but you’re a destitute, and…” He muttered to himself and kicked the ground. “Damn it! I knew this was a bad idea.”
“What’s the problem? She’s a good girl. She won’t bother us.”
Xu knelt down again, still muttering. Then he suddenly got up.
“Fine. If it’s the gods’ will…Let’s seal our pact.”
Xu took them up to the Eternal Pavilion, where bodies were brought to be shrouded, to discuss business. The fortune-teller went inside with a lantern, leading them into a room that stank of incense and rotten flesh. Cí squeezed Third’s hand reassuringly. Xu lit a candle and positioned it on a long, raised platform for cleaning bodies. He cleared a space among the essential oils and implements and swept away the sweets and clay pots that often accompanied the dead.
“This is where we’ll do business,” he said in a proud voice, lifting the candle. “I saw it right away,” said Xu. “Your gift of sight—”
“Sight?”
“Yes! And to think I called myself a fortune-teller! You kept it well under wraps.”
“But—”
“Listen. You’ll install yourself here, and you’ll examine the dead bodies. You’ll have light, books, everything you need. You examine them. You tell me what you see, whatever occurs to you: how they died, if they’re happy in the next life, if they need anything. Make it up if you have to. I’ll convey your findings to the families, they’ll pay us, and everyone will be happy.”
Cí was dumbstruck.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? I saw you yesterday with my own two eyes. The whole thing about strangulation? Word will spread. People will come from far and wide.”
Cí shook his head. “I’m no fortune-teller. I just check for any marks on the bodies, any kind of sign—”
“Marks, signs, what does it matter what you call them? The fact is, you can tell things. And that’s worth a lot of money! What you did yesterday, you could do it again, right?”
“I might be able to work some things out, but—”
“Well then!” said Xu, grinning. “We’ve got a deal!”
The three of them sat around a makeshift breakfast table—a coffin. Xu brought out containers of Longjing prawns, butterfly soup, sweet-and-sour carp, and tofu in a fish sauce. Since the dinner their mother had served when Judge Feng visited, neither Cí nor Third had eaten a real meal.
“I told my woman to cook,” Xu said, sipping his soup. We’ve got reason to celebrate!”
Finishing the last of the food, he told Third to go and play outside.
“Right,” said Cí. “Let’s get our terms clear. What do I get out of this exactly?”
“I see you’re no fool,” laughed Xu. Then he turned serious. “Ten percent of any profits.”
“Ten percent? For doing most of the work?”
“Eh! Don’t get mixed up, kiddo. It’s my idea. I provide the place, I get the bodies.”