Waxing Moon (24 page)

40

After dinner, Mansong fell asleep. It was a miracle. Mrs. Wang placed a bowl of clear water on her altar, outside by the bamboo garden, and thanked all the gods of the universe, known and unknown, for taking care of the matter. She said, “I knew it would be fine, sooner or later. But I must thank you for helping it happen so quickly.”

The moon was waning, but it still brightened her yard enough for her to sit out on the wooden bench and enjoy her new life with a sleeping child.

At that moment, her dog, Tiger, barked, wagging his tail. Instinctively, Mrs. Wang turned around toward her tired-looking gate; it really was coming to the end of its life. She silenced Tiger and listened.

“Mrs. Wang, it’s me, Nani.”

Mrs. Wang got up and went to unlatch the gate to let the unexpected visitor in.

“What is it?” Mrs. Wang asked, turning around to go back to her bench.

Nani bit her lip.

“Take a seat,” Mrs. Wang said.

As she sat, she immediately burst out crying, her small torso shaking.

“The crying demon must have entered you,” Mrs. Wang muttered. But Nani didn’t hear, for she was crying too loudly.

Nani had begun to cry the moment she heard about Min’s arrest. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and her head was now splitting with the ache of too many thoughts and the loss of too many tears.

“Life is never fair,” Mrs. Wang said, grinning. She had just gotten rid of the crying spirit, but here came another one. Perhaps she shouldn’t try to go against the flow, she thought. So she sat silently, enduring Nani’s ceaseless crying. She looked up at the moon and then at Nani. Sometime later, she said, “When you are done crying, let me know. I’ve had a long day.” Mrs. Wang got up and walked toward her room.

“Mrs. Wang, please don’t leave me alone,” Nani squalled.

Mrs. Wang stopped and said, “Well, then, I am going to get some water. Would you like something too?”

“Yes, well, may I have some rice wine?”

Surprised, Mrs. Wang raised her eyebrows. After a moment, she went to her kitchen and brought out a jug of rice wine with two bowls. Mrs. Wang set the bowls on the bench and poured a little into one bowl for Nani and filled the other one for herself.

“Drink it,” Mrs. Wang said, and she drank hers in one gulp. “Ah, that cleanses my chest—my whole soul, actually.”

Nani took a sip as if drinking hot tea.

“Mrs. Wang, I am the most unfortunate girl in the whole world,” Nani said. She was no longer crying.

Girls normally felt like either the most fortunate or the most unfortunate. Nothing in between. Mrs. Wang found this bizarre.

“Min has been arrested, Mrs. Wang, for having set Mr. O’s house on fire. He deserves to be hanged, but I must tell you what led him to do that.” Nani told her how she had met him on the west coast, and in what condition she had found him there, and how he had wanted to marry her, and that she had rejected him. Her conclusion was that she was guilty, too. If only she had agreed to marry him, he wouldn’t have gone out of his mind and acted so foolishly.

Mrs. Wang listened patiently.

“Mrs. Wang, he is going to be hanged tomorrow,” Nani said, trembling. She no longer cried, only because there was no more crying left in her heart. She could only fear now.

“What is your crime?” Mrs. Wang asked quietly.

Nani thought for a moment. She sighed like an old mountain, completely resigned. There was nothing she could do now. “Heartlessness toward a desperate soul. Jealousy. Arrogance,” Nani replied. She wanted to do something with her life. She wasn’t willing to be Min’s wife and live happily ever after now. Was it because he was dumb and deaf? No. That had never bothered her. There was nothing that she meant to say that he didn’t understand; there was nothing that he wanted to say that she couldn’t hear. Was it because of Mirae? No.

“Nothing wrong to reject a person you don’t love. Love is not charity. Love and charity flow from two different spouts. One gushes out from your heart, the other comes from your head. And your head cannot stop what your heart is doing, if you know what I mean.” Mrs. Wang paused. She realized that she had skipped her dinner. Unbelievable! How had this happened? She had been too preoccupied with the shaman and so stunned by the way Mansong had fallen asleep and was still sleeping. “If you would excuse me, I need to eat something. I am going to collapse if I don’t.” Mrs. Wang got up and went to the kitchen.

“Mrs. Wang, can I come with you?” Nani asked, getting up.

“What for? Are you hungry too?”

“Well, I am a little scared. Your house is not near anything. I mean, it’s in the forest, and there are sounds,” Nani said uncomfortably.

“See, you are not in love. If you were, you wouldn’t be afraid of a twelve-headed demon. So wake up from your own misunderstanding. There is no need to feel it’s all your fault that Min is in jail and will be hanged tomorrow,” Mrs. Wang said.

The word “hanged” pierced Nani’s heart, making it difficult for her to breathe. She sighed. Tears welled up again, but she swallowed them.

In the open stove, an amber fire was still going strong. Mrs. Wang put water on the stove and waited. They both sat on wooden stools and watched the fire. It was the only thing that was moving.

“When you rejected him at whatever beach you mentioned, it might very well have set his mind on fire and put him out of his mind. Nevertheless, he is the only one responsible for his action. The officers are not going to hear about what could have or would have happened had the circumstances been otherwise. So no need to go on improvising variations on the same theme. Now, are you hungry?” Mrs. Wang asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Wang. I have eaten nothing the whole day,” Nani confessed.

Mrs. Wang poured boiling water into a large bowl with leftover rice. The water loosened and warmed up the petrified rice. She divided the rice between two bowls and gave one bowl to Nani. They ate the rice with kimchi. “Ah, hunger is the best meal! Even the emperor of China doesn’t know the appetite hunger brings. How could he? He is never hungry,” Mrs. Wang said, satisfied.

Nani ate little. Every grain of rice settled in her chest like a stone. The world was collapsing in front of her eyes, and there was nothing she could do.

“I love him!” Nani shouted abruptly and broke down with a pitiful cry. “I love him, Mrs. Wang. I can’t bear knowing that he will die tomorrow. I can’t live with him dead,” Nani cried. “Oh, Mother, help me!” She clasped her hands.

Mrs. Wang kept eating, ignoring Nani. When she had finished her bowl of rice, she asked, “Aren’t you going to finish yours?”

“Is this a dream? Are we in a dream? I think I am dreaming,” Nani babbled.

Mrs. Wang clucked her tongue.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” Mrs. Wang suggested. “Or do the dishes.”

Nani took the dishes and went out to the water tub in the yard. Mrs. Wang followed. She sat on the bench and helped herself to some more rice wine. Mrs. Wang thought for a minute, looking up at the moon.

“Come and sit here,” Mrs. Wang said gently. She poured a bowl of rice wine and gave it to Nani.

Nani was not able to thank Mrs. Wang: she had lost her voice.

“Drink it and go to bed. The room is warm. It will melt your bones. Sleeping is a short death,” Mrs. Wang said, wondering what she was trying to say. “Min will be hanged tomorrow,” she said, enunciating every syllable, as if to see how the idea sounded if she said it slowly.

Nani covered her ears and screwed up her face.

“He will be hanged . . . unless,” Mrs. Wang paused. “Unless,” she said and stopped again. “Unless Mr. O says he doesn’t mind that his servant burned his house and all his possessions. In other words, if Mr. O says he absolves his servant who meant to kill him and his family.”

“He never meant to kill anyone. He wouldn’t kill a fly, Mrs. Wang,” Nani wheezed.

“Don’t speak. Your voice is gone,” Mrs. Wang advised her.

A little while later, Nani bowed to Mrs. Wang and tried to leave. Mrs. Wang said, “Stay in my house. It’s too late to walk about. All the spirits who got lost on their way to the next life inhabit this mountain. You don’t want to encounter them at this hour.”

Nani went in reluctantly and fell asleep next to Mansong as soon as she laid her head down.

Mrs. Wang lit another candle and looked into her chest of drawers. She pulled out her journals and examined them. She picked one out, leafed through it, and put her finger on the page where a woman named Hong by the Snake River gave birth to a son. She loosened the binding of the book to remove the page. She read the page and sat there, thinking hard. She took her brush and began to compose a letter addressed to Mr. O. It took a while to finish the letter. When she was done, she put the page from the journal and her letter in an envelope and sealed it. Then she slept next to Nani.

At daybreak, Mrs. Wang woke up and thundered to Nani, “Wake up, child! This is the day your boy will be hanged if you don’t take this letter, as soon as your legs can carry you, to Mr. O.”

Nani woke with a start. She looked awful, all puffed up and her hair flying in all directions. Nani took the letter from Mrs. Wang and stared at her blankly.

“I don’t have time to say more. But if Mr. O reads that letter before he goes to the government office this morning, it might help. I hope it will,” Mrs. Wang said, looking at Mansong in her deep slumber. “Go, now!” Mrs. Wang waved her hand, motioning Nani to hurry.

Nani ran down the mountain as fast as she could, constantly whispering, “Mother,
Mother, don’t let him be hanged!”

Automatically, her feet carried her to the old house. It was a horrid sight. The workers were piling up the debris in what had been Mr. O’s courtyard. Just looking at the damage, she couldn’t imagine how Min could ever be forgiven. Then she ran again to the guesthouse, crying because the sun was coming up. She didn’t know whether Mr. O had already left for the government office.

When she arrived, she went directly to Mr. O’s room. Standing outside, she caught her breath. She exhaled to steady herself.

“Big Sister, where have you been?” Soonyi asked. She was carrying a tray of food. “Quince burned the rice,” she said, lowering her voice. “I had to put in some charcoal pieces to get the burned smell out of the rice.”

“Why only one bowl of rice?” Nani questioned her.

“It’s for the master. The mistress is not feeling well,” Soonyi said.

“Give it to me,” Nani said. “I will take it to him,” she said as she snatched the tray.

“Look at you, Big Sister. Your hair is not tidy,” Soonyi pointed out.

“Don’t bring the other tray. I will come and fetch it,” Nani instructed her.

Clearing her voice, Nani announced her arrival and opened the door impatiently. Mr. O was converting his land into currency at his study table. Nani bowed and transferred the dishes from the tray onto the low table. Her hands trembled. Clearing her throat once again, she said, “Master, here is a letter for you.”

Concentrating on his addition, Mr. O didn’t reply. When he was done, the muscle between his eyebrows relaxed, and he said, “Put it in the basket with the other letters.”

Nani’s heart sank. She knew nothing about the contents of the letter, but she trusted Mrs. Wang. Nani bowed and left the room to fetch the other tray with side dishes.

In the kitchen, Quince was helping herself freely to candied chestnuts. Nani couldn’t speak. She picked up the tray and left the kitchen again.

“Poor thing,” Quince said to Soonyi, taking another chestnut. “But the boy deserves the punishment. What an awful way of paying back his master who’s been taking care of him practically since his birth.”

Soonyi snatched the lacquer box with candied chestnuts and said, “You are eating all the chestnuts.”

“Well, the mistress is not well, and she doesn’t want to eat anything. So I offer my mouth to eat a little of what she would have eaten were she well,” Quince grumbled with her mouth full.

Nani steadied herself again before she entered Mr. O’s room with the tray. She bowed and glanced at the basket full of letters. She arranged the table for Mr. O and opened the lid of the rice and soup. Steam rose to her face.

“Master, there is an urgent letter Mrs. Wang sent. She says it has something to do with,” she stopped. She didn’t know what to say.

Mr. O raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

“Forgive me, Master. Mrs. Wang said it was urgent. That’s all she said. Do you want me to bring it to you?”

Mr. O sat in front of his table and thought briefly before he picked up his spoon. “Bring it to me,” he ordered her.

Nani picked out Mrs. Wang’s letter from the basket and presented it to Mr. O. She lingered there, hoping Mr. O would open it. But he tasted his soup. He put his spoon down and said, “This is too salty.”

“It might have been overboiled, Master. I will go and fix the problem.” Nani got up and took the soup bowl.

“I don’t feel like eating anything except some soup this morning. Bring it as soon as you can. I need to go out,” Mr. O said. “In the meantime, I guess I will be reading this letter.”

Nani ran out and went to the kitchen. She stood there, holding the soup bowl.

“What’s gotten into you, Nani? Comb your hair. You look bizarre,” Quince said, frowning.

“Big Sister, why did you bring the soup back?” Soonyi asked.

“Oh, shut up, Soonyi,” Nani said, sitting down, still holding the soup bowl.

“Is there something wrong with the soup?” Soonyi asked.

Quince, chewing on something, protested, “What could be wrong with the soup? I made it.”

Nani went out. She couldn’t hear another word from the other maids. Her mind raced to Mr. O before her legs took her there. She didn’t hesitate before she entered Mr. O’s room again with the same soup bowl. Mr. O was no longer at the table; he was standing by the window, looking out, holding the letter in his hand. He didn’t seem to notice Nani’s presence. She bowed and placed the soup on the table and left the room. Again she whispered, “Mother, Mother, don’t let him be hanged!”

As she stepped down into the yard, she heard the door behind her open. Mr. O was leaving. He passed her as if she were invisible.

She went back to his room in order to remove the food. She looked about, but the letter was nowhere to be found. Something about the way Mr. O had suddenly left told her that Min wouldn’t be hanged. But she couldn’t trust her intuition.

In the late afternoon, she heard that Min had been let out of jail because Mr. O had confessed to arson. This news traveled faster than the wind. By the end of the day, even the Chinese were laughing about the lunatic who set his own house on fire and lost everything.