Chinese Cinderella and the Secret Dragon Society (3 page)

‘What do you suggest?’ Big Aunt asked Master Wu.

‘Your aunt tells me that your mother died when you were five years old,’ Master Wu said to me. ‘Have you heard of the Cinderella story?’

‘Of course!’ I said.

‘But do you know that the Cinderella story was printed in China during the Tang dynasty and first came out twelve hundred years ago?’ Master Wu asked. ‘The little girl in the Chinese version has the same surname as you: Ye. Your given name is also the same: Xian. Amazing, isn’t it?’

I was interested despite myself. ‘Did the Tang dynasty Chinese Cinderella also have a stepmother who was mean to her and a fairy godmother who looked out for her?’ I asked.

‘Instead of a fairy godmother, Chinese Cinderella had a magic fish that protected her. But she did have a wicked stepmother who was very mean. Why do you ask?’ Master Wu said. ‘Do you have a stepmother?’

‘Sort of.’ I looked at my aunt, wondering whether I should tell him more.

‘Her father is Ye Jia-Lin (
), my younger brother,’ Big Aunt explained. ‘Her mother was my best friend. So, besides being my niece, Ye Xian is also my god-daughter. We shared a room in my brother’s house before his latest girlfriend moved in three years ago. She and I don’t get on. I like reading, music and art and she is only interested in jewellery, playing mah-jong (
) and shopping. That’s why I moved out last year.’

‘What do you call your stepmother?’ Master Wu asked me.

‘Father told me to call her Niang…’ I began.

‘I’ve never liked you calling her Niang,’ Big Aunt interrupted heatedly. ‘“Niang” is another term for “Mama”. If that woman is your mama, then what about your real mama? As far as I’m concerned, you have one mama and will always have only one real mama. Unfortunately she died! That woman and your father aren’t even married!’

‘So what should I call her?’

‘Call her “Father’s New Woman”!’

‘How can I?’ I said. ‘I can’t say, “Good morning, Father’s New Woman. How are you today?” They’d kill me.’

‘It worries me that you’ll be under the thumb of someone like her for the rest of your life.’ From outside came the sound of hammering as workers erected wooden arches for a parade to celebrate
the Japanese takeover of Singapore. ‘History will repeat itself, just like the Cinderella story.’

‘Many of my friends tell me it’s fashionable to have an English name as well as a Chinese name nowadays,’ I said, changing the subject. ‘I’d
love
to have an English name.’

‘I think Cinderella is perfect for you,’ Master Wu said. ‘It’s the English equivalent of your Chinese name Ye Xian.’

‘Yes,’ Big Aunt agreed. ‘
Chinese
Cinderella – but that’s such a mouthful. Why don’t we just use the initials and call you CC?’

And that is how I got my English name, CC.

2

The Chinese Zodiac

‘Now let’s begin,’ said Big Aunt. I took my usual seat at the round dining table, which Big Aunt also used as her writing desk. Her sitting room was sparsely but elegantly furnished with tatami mats on a wooden parquet floor, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, large windows shaded by bamboo screens, a comfortable couch and two cosy armchairs. Pots of chrysanthemums dotted the room and two large black-and-white ink paintings hung on the wall.

Big Aunt sat next to me and poured a little water on the ink-stone, then made fresh ink by grinding a stick of charcoal against the stone’s surface. She dipped a brush in the ink and quickly wrote a number of characters in our exercise book. They were so easy I felt insulted.

‘I know these words! I’m not three years old! I’m nearly twelve!’

‘
Xiao bao bei
(
), my precious little treasure!’ Big Aunt said patiently. ‘
Yu su bu da!
(
) More haste, less speed! Just read them aloud and translate them into English!’

I sighed and rolled my eyes to the ceiling. ‘They’re all animals: the rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, sheep, monkey, chicken, dog and pig.’ Suddenly I caught on. ‘But these are the signs of the zodiac. I know them! I’m a horse.’

‘Yes,
xiao bao bei!
But do you know that the Chinese zodiac has twelve-year cycles? It starts with the rat, and ends with the pig. After that the cycle starts again with the rat.’

‘Why is the rat always first?’

‘Legend has it that Buddha wanted to start a calendar to keep track of time,’ Big Aunt explained. ‘He summoned all the animals and announced that the first twelve would be included in the Chinese zodiac. The rat came first, the pig last, and all the other animals came in between. Each animal was given a year of its own. For instance, people born in the year of the rat would adopt the personality traits of the rat.’

‘Who would want to be like a rat?’

‘A person has no choice in that matter,’ Master Wu said. ‘Actually, I was born in the year of the rat and am now forty-two years old. Can you figure out when I was born, CC?’

I had to think. ‘Since it is 1942, you must have been born in 1900. Is that right, Master Wu?’

‘One hundred per cent correct!’ Master Wu concurred. ‘Let me tell you something else. Your Big Aunt was also born in the year of the rat’

‘Mama told me I was born in the year of the horse,’ I said. ‘Which year am I, Master Wu?’

Master Wu’s eyes were bright. ‘The horse is the seventh animal on the zodiac; 1906, 1918 and 1930 were all horse years. Since you don’t look thirty-six or twenty-four years old, my logic tells me that you were born in 1930.’

‘What are horse people like?’ I asked.

‘Horse people are quick-witted and adventurous,’ Big Aunt said with a smile. ‘Most compatible with those born in the year of the tiger. Here is a chart for you to take home (page 268). Have fun with it at school. Your friends will be so impressed when you tell them what they are like and who they can be friends with. Now I have something else for you.’

Quickly Big Aunt wrote another two characters in the book.

‘Easy again!’ I said. ‘These mean bear and cat.’

‘Yes!’ Big Aunt said. ‘But they also have another meaning. It’s a riddle… Master Wu, will you give CC a hint?’

Master Wu produced a faded photograph from
his wallet. It was a picture of him standing next to a giant panda! The panda was pushing a basketball into a specially constructed hoop halfway up a tree.

‘This is Mei Mei (
), Master Wu’s pet,’ said Big Aunt.

I stared at the photo in disbelief as the truth slowly dawned. ‘The characters for “bear” and “cat” can also mean “giant panda”!’ I exclaimed.

‘Yes,
xiao bao bei!
’ Big Aunt said. ‘You’ve solved the riddle! Master Wu has a giant panda as a pet!’

‘Where is your panda, Master Wu?’ I asked breathlessly. ‘May I see it?’

Master Wu shook his head. ‘Mei Mei hates the city. She lives in the mountain forests of Nan Tian Island where there are plenty of bamboo leaves to eat.’

I looked at the adorable panda’s white face with dark circles around her eyes. ‘Will she know you when you see her again?’

‘Of course! I’ve raised her since she was a baby, pink and almost hairless, lying all soft and helpless on the palm of my hand.’

I looked at his hand and tried to imagine the tiny baby panda. ‘How did you find her?’

Master Wu settled back on the couch and I sat beside him. Big Aunt poured hot water from a thermos into three blue and white china teacups,
added a pinch of tea leaves to each, and covered the cups with matching lids for the tea to brew.

‘Four years ago,’ Master Wu began, ‘I was visiting my uncle in Sichuan province in the southwest. His house was high in the mountains, near a misty, cloud-covered bamboo forest. One morning while I was out walking, I heard a shot and some hunters crashing through the trees. Then I came upon a terrible sight – a giant panda, mortally wounded. I hid and watched the hunters tie up the body and carry it away.’

I felt sick. The thought of such a beautiful animal being slaughtered revolted me. ‘Why did they do it?’ I asked.

Big Aunt looked sad. ‘Panda skin and meat fetch a high price. The paws especially have medicinal value. Many people think they’re a great delicacy.’

‘After the hunters had gone,’ Master Wu continued, ‘I searched for the dead panda’s den and found it in the hollow stump of a fir tree, lined with twigs, wood chips, leaves and stalks of bamboo. Then I heard the sound of an animal squealing and saw the baby panda. It was still pink, with just the slightest covering of white fur…’