‘Where’s your mother?’ he said. ‘It’s not safe for a little girl to be hanging around a park by herself. Don’t you know there’s a war going on?’
‘Actually, I was looking for the acrobats who performed here yesterday. Are they coming back today?’
‘Their permit only allows them to perform in the Plaza three times a year. Their next appearance will be during the Dragon Boat Festival in a few months’ time.’
‘Where can I find them?’ I couldn’t conceal my disappointment.
He shrugged. ‘How would I know? Shanghai is a big place. They could be anywhere…’ Then he saw my tears. ‘Now, now! Don’t cry. Tell you what. Occasionally, I’ve seen those boys working at a bookstall in the bazaar behind that row of tall trees. Why don’t you see if they’re there today?’
In the bazaar, hawkers were selling toys, delicate papercuts, crickets, birds in cages, fans, fireworks, stick incense, fruits, ice cream, preserved plums, dates, even dried squid and herbal medicines from makeshift stands. I was overwhelmed by the smells and colours, the hustle and bustle of buying and selling and bargaining. Finally I spotted the bookstall. A white-haired woman was arranging hundreds of new and used kung fu novels on racks that resembled window shutters. A sign said: ‘Martial Arts Academy () and Bookstall. Books for sale or loan’.
I chose a book, Warriors from the Marsh of Mount Liang, sat down and flipped open the pages. Printed in black and white on cheap ricepaper, it told the story of a group of idealistic men who formed a secret brotherhood in the twelfth century to right the wrongs of those who were unjustly accused.
The woman came and sat next to me. ‘This book is based on a famous novel written by Shi Nan-An six hundred years ago during the Ming dynasty. It has been adapted for children and has lots of drawings. We have many young customers your age.’ She smiled at me so kindly that I felt brave enough to speak.
‘I know you!’ I burst out. ‘Are you the leader of the acrobats who performed at Du Mei Park yesterday?’
‘You’re right!’ she smiled warmly. ‘Here comes one of my boys now!’
There were the lilting tones of a bamboo flute and the boy who had given me his card pushed through the crowd. I hardly recognized him without his satin costume, but I remembered his face. His eyes were laughing and I saw that they were different colours: one dark brown and the other blue.
4
New Friends
The boy held out his hand. ‘Ni hau (), how are you? You’re the girl who keeps coins in her ears! I was hoping to see you again. I’m David Black and this is my teacher, Wu Nai Mai (), Grandma Wu.’
My heart pounded but I managed to get up from the bench. First I bowed to Grandma Wu, then I shook David’s hand.
‘I’m Ye Xian but my English name is CC.’ I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘Your show was marvellous.’
‘It wasn’t too bad, was it?’ David replied, with a big grin. ‘I see you’re reading one of my favourite books, Warriors from the Marsh of Mount Liang.’
‘It’s my favourite too!’ I said.
‘I like it because the Mount Liang warriors dared to stand up for their beliefs,’ David said. ‘If you read just one book in your life, it should be this one!’
‘I wish I could be a Mount Liang warrior,’ I said.
‘You can be! Grandma Wu, do you think members of our society are as brave as the warriors of Mount Liang?’
‘We try to be,’ Grandma Wu said. ‘Many of the fighting techniques I’ve taught you are named after characters in this novel. Why don’t you show CC some of your kung fu moves?’
‘I have a better idea!’ David said. ‘May I invite CC to the academy this Sunday? That’s the day of my match.’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Grandma Wu turned to me. ‘David’s going to fight the junior boxing champion of Shanghai in an exhibition match at noon this Sunday. He’ll be using classic kung fu moves such as Wu Song’s “Stepping backwards to ride the tiger” and Liu Kui’s “Two-handed axe”.’
‘I’ve always wanted to learn kung fu,’ I said wistfully. Everything was happening so fast that I felt confused. Just an hour ago, I was at the bottom of an abyss. My life seemed full of darkness and my heart was aching so much that I yearned to die. But hope must have been lurking somewhere all along. I had a sudden longing for the place I used to call home when my mother was still alive. Were my worries truly over or would Grandma Wu turn me away too, just as Father had done when he slammed the door behind me?
Some of my pain must have shown on my face. ‘What is it, CC? Is something troubling you?’ Grandma Wu looked at me with concern.
Her tone was so sympathetic that tears came to my eyes. ‘My aunt left for Nan Tian Island early this morning. I had a quarrel with my stepmother this afternoon and my father threw me out of their house. I don’t know where to go tonight…’ My voice broke and, to my embarrassment, I started to weep again.
Grandma Wu put her arm around my shoulders. ‘Don’t cry! You’re among friends. Let me get something straight, though. Did you say that your aunt left for Nan Tian early this morning? It so happens that I was born on that island and grew up there. What’s your aunt’s name?’
When I told her it was Ye Jia-ming () her eyes opened wide. ‘What a small world! I do believe that you and I have yuan fen () together. Just like the poem says:
People With yuan fen are destined to like one another Friendship develops even if a thousand miles apart But should yuan fenbe absent between two individuals They will remain strangers despite sitting face to face. ‘Here! Dry your tears. Take a deep breath and tell us your story.’
So I told Grandma Wu and David about the quarrel with my stepmother, and my father’s anger when I called her ‘his New Woman’. I had never revealed my painful family situation to anyone before and felt uneasy discussing it with two people I had just met. ‘Now I have nowhere to go,’ I said, hanging my head.
Grandma Wu and David were silent at first. Then Grandma Wu gently lifted my face and said, ‘Your aunt’s godmother Liu Nai-Nai, Grandma Liu, and I lived across the street from each other in Nan Tian when we were children! My son and I still own that house. We’ve been friends for more than fifty years. She taught everyone on the island how to swim, including my son and your aunt. I remember little Ye Jia-ming well. She and my son used to build sandcastles on the beach hour after hour. In those days, she wore pigtails and liked to draw pictures on the sand with a stick!’
As she spoke, a thought struck me. ‘My aunt went to Nan Tian with a friend whom I met yesterday. His name is CY Wu. Is he your son?’
‘Yes! My son has wanted to marry your aunt Ye Jia-ming all his life. Unfortunately, your grandfather had promised her to someone else when she was still a baby. Your aunt had no say in the matter. As you know, her arranged marriage was a disaster and she’s now divorced…’
A jangle of sounds interrupted our conversation, as a band of roving musicians pushed through the crowd: six elderly men playing drum, cymbal, erhu (violin), gong, flute and castanets. Their music was so loud and distracting that we couldn’t talk. I pressed my fingers against my ears and looked around. Wafting through the air was a delicious aroma. Hunger pangs gripped me and I remembered that I had eaten nothing since noon. A food seller right opposite us was sautéing pork and noodles in a giant wok perched above a portable charcoal stove. To his right was a fruit vendor, with piles of persimmons, mandarin oranges, jujubes, dates, apples and pears. To his left squatted a shoemaker, totally absorbed in sewing on the sole of a shoe made of cloth. Right next to our stall a fortune-teller was speaking intently to a female customer, under a sign that said:
Yi Jing is a Book of Magic
I use it to tell your fortune.
They were so close I could hear part of their conversation. In his hands he held a bundle of sticks and a book with a black cover.
The sight of the fortune-teller reminded me of my own misfortune and desperate future. Terrified of spending the night alone on the stre
ets of Shanghai, I dropped to my knees in front of Grandma Wu. ‘Please don’t send me back to my stepmother,’ I pleaded. ‘Take me home with you and let me join your society. I’ve nowhere to go and don’t know what to do.’
Grandma Wu pulled me to my feet and held me again. ‘Stop worrying, CC! I wouldn’t dream of abandoning you. Grandma Liu and I promised one another years ago that we would always tong gan gong ku () and tong zhou gong ji (), share bitter and sweet and stick together through thick and thin). That’s the sort of friendship we share. You are the niece of my best friend’s goddaughter. You are also homeless, beset with perils and in desperate need of help. Besides, I do believe that you and I have yuan fen between us. Lots and lots of yuan fen. No question about it. You are definitely coming back with us to the academy!’
5
Martical Arts Academy
The academy was a converted warehouse on Avenue Petain in the French Concession. It was divided into two wings with a courtyard in between. The rooms were enormous and Grandma Wu had partitioned them into smaller areas with bamboo panelling. The left wing consisted of classrooms, study areas, and a gymnasium. Dormitories and living quarters were in the right wing. There was hardly any furniture, and the windows were covered with rattan screens. The quiet, immaculate interior was in striking contrast to the noise and activity of Avenue Petain. I discovered later that Grandma Wu, Master Wu and the three boy acrobats were the only ones living there. The rest of the students and staff had been evacuated to Chungking two months earlier after the Japanese took control of Shanghai.
David stayed close by my side, but still I felt nervous and shy. Two other acrobat boys were in the kitchen, wrapping dumplings. One was tall, muscular and gangly. The other was short and skinny and wore glasses. When we entered, they both sprang to their feet.
‘Marat and Sam,‘ Grandma Wu began. ‘Come here and meet CC’.
‘You don’t know me but I know you,’ I said shyly. ‘Yesterday, I watched you cycling and juggling balls on the tightrope. You were wonderful!’
‘Marat Yoshida, the tightrope walker, mat’s me! ‘The taller boy smiled.
‘I’d rather be known as “Top of the line Performer Sam Eisner”,’the shorter boy quipped, laughing at his own joke. ‘But aren’t you the girl who keeps coins in her ears?’
‘I think she’d rather be known as the niece of Grandma Liu’s god-daughter,’ said David.
‘You don’t mean Grandma Fish!’ Marat said.
‘Grandma Liu is my aunt’s godmother. She has broken her leg and my aunt has gone with Master Wu to Nan Tian to look after her,’ I said, pleased at the connections between us.
‘What? Is she all right? How did she break her leg?’ David asked anxiously.
‘You know what a great swimmer Grandma Liu is and how she loves those dolphins of hers!’ Grandma Wu took over. ‘Apparently, while she was playing with one of the dolphins, she lost her footing and fell from the boat. Don’t forget, she’s seventy-one now and her bones are not as strong as they used to be — her leg simply snapped in two. I don’t know the whole story, but I do know that the dolphin saved her life. Somehow, it managed to push her all the way ashore,’.
‘That’s amazing!‘ I exclaimed. ‘Are dolphins really that smart?’
‘Sure they are!’ said David. ‘I once played seaweed football with a dolphin! And last summer Grandma Liu taught one to walk on his tail. Dolphins love to play and you can always tell when they are happy - they leap up and splash back into the water over and over again. Just like me when I throw my cap in the air.‘ He grinned at me.
‘So you’ve actually played with real dolphins!’ I said enviously. ‘I’ve only ever seen pictures of them.’
‘When Marat and I went to Nan Tian with Grandma Wu, we spent so much time with Grandma Liu and her dolphins in the water that we started calling her Grandma Fish.’
‘I had measles,’ Sam said, wanting to join in. ‘So I stayed in Shanghai with Master Wu. Are you coming to live here?’ He looked curiously at my school uniform.
‘CC will be staying with us tonight and probably longer,’ said Grandma Wu. ‘She’s here to learn kung fu. David, please take CC to Miss Cheng’s old bedroom upstairs and show her around while I help Marat and Sam with dinner.’
‘Thank you, Grandma Wu,‘ I said. So much had happened since I had left Big Aunt’s flat that morning. I could hardly think clearly, let alone plan for my future. How long would I be allowed to stay? How would I earn my keep? I decided simply to do what I was told for the time being.
‘Isn’t David an English name?’ I asked, as we climbed the stairs to the spare bedroom. ‘Do you have a Chinese name too?’
David laughed. ‘Of course I have a Chinese name. It’s Da-wei , Big Comfort. My father was English and gave me the name David when I was born. My Chinese mother translated it to Da-wei. The two names sound almost the same in the Shanghai dialect. When people ask me my name, I say Da-wei unless I want to know that person better. Then I say David.’
‘What’s your nickname?’
‘What makes you think I have a nickname?’ he smiled. ‘Do you have a nickname? Tell me yours first!’
‘My best friend at school calls me Scholar Ye. She says my nose is always buried in a book. Yesterday, Master Wu gave me CC as my English name. It’s really another nickname because the initials stand for Chinese Cinderella.’
‘I like it. My nickname is Black Whirlwind.’
‘Black Whirlwind! That’s the nickname of Liu Kui, the character from Warriors from the Marsh of Mount Liang, isn’t it? Wasn’t he the fastest kung fu warrior of his generation? Who called you that?’
‘Master Wu! It’s appropriate because my English surname is Black!’
‘You must be great at kung fu to be called Black Whirlwind.’
I was full of questions about the Academy and Master Wu as we stepped on to the landing. David first showed me the enormous dorm room he shared with Marat and Sam. There were at least twenty beds but only three were in use. Beside each bed was a night-stand and a bamboo screen for privacy. David walked past the door of a similar room and said, ‘This used to be the girls’ dorm but they’ve all gone to Chungking. The spare bedroom you’ve been given used to belong to Miss Cheng, the calligraphy teacher. But she went west, too, and it’s been empty since.’
When we finished putting sheets and pillowcases on my bed, I had a good look around. There was a small bookcase above the bed, a skylight and a writing desk, as well as two small chairs. The large glass windows were covered with rattan screens.
‘How long have you lived with Grandma Wu? Where are your parents?’
‘My father and my mother are dead.’ David’s voice was strained. ‘My mother was arrested by the Japanese secret police on the same day they killed my father. She died in jail a few days later. I’ve lived with Grandma Wu and Master Wu for two months. Ever since Pearl Harbor Day, 7 December last year.’
I was shocked and didn’t know what to say.
David shrugged then looked directly at me. ‘Your story is just as sad, CC. Everyone ends up here for a reason. Grandma Wu and Master Wu move around the country, the jianghu , rivers and lakes, helping unwanted children like us. They teach us the Tao , true way to live. They give us hope.’
I felt a shiver of excitement and was full of questions again. ‘What’s it really like living here? What do you do all day?’
David smiled. ‘Grandma Wu makes us practise martial arts two hours a day and we still have to go to school full time, study the classics and learn thirty new Chinese characters a week. I wish I had more time to play my flute, but I love it here. Master Wu says that if you like what you do, then there isn’t any difference between work and play.’
‘Is Master Wu an athlete? He looks like a professional boxer or weightlifter.’
‘He’s amazingly talented. He can run a mile in less than four and a half minutes, lift weights that are over 250 pounds, swim 65 yards underwater in less than two minutes and j
ump over hurdles five feet high. But his kung fu moves are the best of all. When he lived in Los Angeles, he even defeated the flyweight-boxing champion of California!’
We had dinner in the kitchen, the five of us sitting at the round table where Marat and Sam had been wrapping dumplings earlier. I thought how wonderful it was to be eating food prepared by the two boys with their own hands: so different from my father’s house where every meal was cooked and served by the maids. Besides dumplings, there was a plate of fried noodles and a large bowl of vegetable soup. Grandma Wu placed the different dishes on a small turntable set in the middle and told us to help ourselves. We used chopsticks and plates for the food but drank the soup out of small bowls.
The boys laughed and joked throughout the meal. I wanted so much to join in.
When we were clearing the table, David whispered, ‘Don’t worry! Grandma Wu likes you! Everything will be all right!’
Grandma Wu smiled gently. ‘Even though you have suffered much, CC, there’s always someone who has suffered more. It’s certainly not fair that your father should kick you out of your home, but some people have lost their parents and been kicked out of their country as well!’
I was shocked. ‘Who’s that?’
‘You’ll find out!’
‘I’m so grateful to you for taking me in,‘ I said. ‘It also means a lot to me to eat Marat and Sam’s dumplings.’
‘Nothing cements friendship like something from the stove cooked by a friend,’ Grandma Wu replied. And I vowed to myself then and there that I would learn to cook so I could return the favour.
After dinner Grandma Wu led us to an alcove that was separated from the rest of the living room by special folding screens. Hanging on the wall was a scroll with two large Chinese characters: Fu Dao , the Way of Buddha. Below the scroll was an exquisite bonsai tree resting on an antique altar table. Two elaborately carved sandalwood boxes were on either side of the bonsai tree. On the front of each were three Chinese characters: Gu Yi He , Memory Vision Box, on the left; and Wei Lai He , Future Vision Box, on the right. Otherwise the alcove was bare, apart from a small stool.