He had to do something. He knew it might be the worst decision he’d ever made, but he ran through the pouring rain all the way to the Fields of Death.
He found Xu working on a coffin. He didn’t seem surprised to see Cí, and he didn’t stop what he was doing.
“You look like a drowned chicken. Get out of those clothes and come help me with this.”
“I need money,” said Cí.
“Don’t we all!”
“I need it now. Third is so sick…she’s nearing death.”
“I know. It happens—look around!”
Cí grabbed Xu and was about to hit him, but he let him go. Xu brushed himself off and went back to what he’d been doing,
“How much would you pay for me?”
Xu dropped his tools and looked at Cí. Yes, Cí said, he wanted to sell himself as a slave. Xu snorted.
“Ten thousand qián. That’s the best I can do.”
Cí knew he could have bartered with Xu, but he was utterly drained—drained from all the nights listening to Third’s coughing and cries, drained from trying to find solutions. What did it matter now? He was trapped, barely alive. Exhausted. And he accepted Xu’s offer.
Xu got up and went for paper to draw up the contract. He licked the brush and hastily scratched something out, then called to the gardener to come and act as witness. He handed the sheet of paper to Cí to sign.
“It has the essential points. You’ll render me all services, and you’ll belong to me until you die. Here, here. Sign it.”
“The money first.”
“I’ll give it to you at the boat.”
“I’ll sign once I see the money.”
Grudgingly, Xu agreed, then put Cí to work assembling coffins. Xu began singing a song, an accompaniment to the best bit of luck he’d had in years.
They started back to the houseboat halfway through the afternoon.
Xu walked with a spring in his step, singing the same melody over and over. Cí dragged his feet, head bowed, aware that everything he’d ever dreamed of was vanishing. He tried to banish these thoughts by focusing on Third and the hope that now, finally, she could be cured. He’d buy her the best medicine, and she’d grow up to be a beautiful, healthy woman. This was his one remaining dream.
But still, as they came closer to the docks, his mood remained dark.
The houseboat came into sight, and Xu’s wives were on the jetty, screaming at them to hurry. Cí flew toward them, jumped onto the deck, and ducked straight into the little shelter where Third rested when she felt ill. Cí cried out, but he didn’t see her.
He whirled around. At the back of the space, next to a container of fish, lay Third’s small, worn-out body. He covered her with a blanket—quiet, pale, sleeping forevermore.
PART FOUR
20
At the burial, Cí felt that a part of him was being nailed inside the small coffin along with his beloved sister. And the other parts of him—blasted and messy—though they might be sewn back together again, would never shine as before. His spirit was in a worse place than his body, and it was as if the burns that disfigured him had become internal. They were painful, and he had no way of soothing them.
He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore. First his other sisters, then his brother and parents, and now the little one.
The only other person at the funeral was Xu. He waited outside, and when Cí came back to the cart they’d hired to transport the coffin, Xu was impatient. Cí hadn’t even finished arranging the flowers for the small grave, and Xu wanted to talk about the contract. He’d brought it with him. Cí turned on him, taking the piece of paper and tearing it up. Xu didn’t bat an eyelid. He crouched down and began picking up the torn pieces.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sign it?” he asked, smiling. “Do you really think I’m going to let such a good piece of business escape, just like that?”
Cí glared at him. He began walking off.
“Whoa!” shouted Xu. “Where do you think you’re going? Think you’ll survive in this city without me? You’re nothing but a beggar with airs.”
Cí exploded. “Where am I going? Anywhere you’re not! You and your greed. I’m going to the Ming Academy.” No sooner had he finished speaking than he regretted saying that much.
“Oh, really? But you do know that if you try to go, I’ll go straight to that sheriff who was after you, right? And I’ll go out whoring with the reward money, stopping by your bitch little sister’s grave to piss on it—”
He was interrupted by a hard punch in the face; the next blow dislodged some teeth. Cí stood back. Xu spat bloodily on the ground and then smiled up at Cí.
“Listen: you’ll work with me, or not at all.”
“No, you listen! Put your stupid disguise on and scratch together whatever living you want. You’re enough of a trickster to fool a few people yet. But if I ever find out you’ve spoken to Kao about me, you can be sure the whole city will know about your fraud business. And that’ll be the end of you. And if I find out you’ve come anywhere near my sister’s grave, I’ll break you in two and, I swear, I’ll eat your heart.”
He dropped one last flower on Third’s grave and went down the cemetery’s hill.
It was raining and he was soaked to the bone, but he dawdled in the streets anyway. He spent the whole morning walking the same maze of alleys, head bowed, going over and over the question: Was it really worth it to go to the academy? If it would never bring back Third, or his mother or father, was there really any point?
Leaning back against a pillar, he became lost for a long time in a swirl of images, all of his family. They were never coming back.
A beggar boy with no arms came and sat next to him. He had two cloth bags for carrying sand slung over his stumps. He grinned toothlessly at Cí; he liked the rain, he said, because it cleaned his face. Cí leaned over and adjusted the boy’s bags for him, and with a cloth wiped some of the dirt from his face. Third’s constant smile sprang into his thoughts, her enthusiasm in spite of everything. He felt her there with him.
Getting up, he stroked the boy’s head and looked out. Maybe it was clearing up. If he hurried, he might even make it to the Ming Academy before nightfall.
From outside the academy, he could see silhouettes of the students in the classrooms. Their talk and laughter drifted out into the gardens and through the cloisters where, behind an imposing stone wall, there was a grove of plum, pear, and apricot trees.
A group of students came from the street behind him and passed by as they walked in the direction of the academy. They were discussing their classes, and behind them a couple of servants pulled handcarts overflowing with all kinds of food. A few of them glanced back at him as if they were worried he might contaminate them somehow. I probably would, he thought. They entered through the academy gate whispering.
Inside there was wisdom and cleanliness; outside, ignorance and baseness.
Summoning all his courage, Cí walked through the academy’s entrance. But as he did, a guard stepped out in front of him brandishing a stick. Cí told him Professor Ming had invited him.