One
Sparrow rushed through the massive crowd, dodging men, donkey carts, and vendors hawking everything from steamed buns to carved dragon toys to images of the empress painted on silk. It seemed as though everyone in Peking had come to see the empress return to the city after spending more than a year in exile. Everyone gasped and ducked as the train whistle blew, announcing the empress’s arrival. Sparrow had never seen the train running before. During the rebellion, the rebels had destroyed the train tracks. But now, the foreigner invaders had made sure they were repaired so that the empress would not have to ride in a cart all the way back to the city from Chang’an, far to the west.
While everyone crowded toward the train platform to try and get a look at the empress—a futile attempt since it was forbidden for common people to look upon a member of the royal family—Sparrow, at a small and wiry eight years old, slipped quickly and easily through the throng of bodies, climbed the jagged wall of a house, and jumped from rooftop to rooftop to get a view of the train. Several other children who made their livings on the streets were already there, and they pointed eagerly at the scene below.
Like an angry dragon, the massive black beast puffed thick, choking smoke that wafted over to the roof where Sparrow stood. It was January, and frightfully cold. From the top of the building, the wind was biting, and snowflakes drifted down, sticking to the children’s hair and noses. Some of the kids left, not believing the chance at seeing the empress was worth freezing for another moment.
Sparrow, however, stayed. She pulled her thin shawl around her shoulders and leaned on the edge of the brick wall that surrounded the top of the house. She had no reason to think that anything remarkable was about to happen. Before the war, she had seen the empress’s procession many times as the old woman traveled from the city to her country palace. Always, she traveled within the seclusion of her sedan chair, the red curtains drawn and tightly bound. And yet, Sparrow could not shake the feeling that something was going to happen. Maybe it was simply the energy of the crowd. The excitement of the people at the return of the empress and the expulsion of the foreigners. The end of war and death. A reason to celebrate after years of suffering. Whatever it was, Sparrow was willing to face the cold for just a few minutes before pilfering her way through the crowd and returning home to Mama.
One by one, the empress’s ladies stepped out of the train car and walked across the platform to their waiting sedan chairs. The people below cheered, but Sparrow just watched. She had never seen such finely attired women before. Their hair was wound around large plank boards in the batou style and decorated with jewels and silk flowers. Their gowns were long and thick, each edged in fur of brown, black, and red. Sparrow wondered what sort of animal had such beautiful red fur. The women’s faces were painted white as ghosts, but their eyes were black and their lips red. Sparrow could not help but snicker. The only women she knew who painted their faces were the whores who inhabited the flower houses that dotted the back alleys of Peking. It was not common for high-class ladies to be seen in public, so Sparrow did not know that such ladies also painted their faces. She also saw the men who served in the Forbidden City known as eunuchs standing around, keeping the crowds at bay and helping the ladies into their chairs as they tottered on their high pot-bottom shoes.
After the women were safely ensconced in their chairs, Sparrow expected the eunuchs to perhaps carry a screen out to block the view of the empress as she exited the train. But that is not what happened.
The empress stepped out of her carriage, turned to the crowd, and waved an embroidered kerchief. For a moment, everyone seemed shocked. An awed silence fell over the crowd. Then, as if on cue, the crowd cheered and clapped. People screamed and cried. Some actually fainted. That the empress, the Daughter of Heaven, should take a moment not just to be seen, but to acknowledge the people, was unimaginable.
As Sparrow watched, the empress raised her head, only for a second, and waved her kerchief toward the rooftop where Sparrow was standing. Sparrow stood up straight and waved back. The empress did not look so terribly different from the other ladies at first glance. Her hair was carefully arranged and her clothes were warm and thick. But she wore no makeup and was considerably older than the maids, none of whom appeared to be more than twenty years in age. But she held a commanding presence. Sparrow had to fight the urge to drop to her knees in deference to the great woman standing below her. Even from such a distance, her eyes were clear and bright, as though out of thousands of people gathered, she was looking directly at Sparrow, a child of no account.
Of course, she had no idea if the empress actually saw her, for the woman quickly turned away and was ushered toward her sedan chair by a eunuch servant. The curtains were drawn, and the chair-bearers lifted the poles of the chairs to their shoulders and quickly marched over the muddy ground toward the Forbidden City.
Sparrow wondered what it must be like to be a lady such as those she had just seen. Truly, she could not even begin to imagine it. She knew they had warm clothes, but what their homes were like, she had no idea. Did they all share a room together, as she did with her mother and sisters? Why not? It was surely too cold in a building as large as the Forbidden City to sleep alone. Did they burn old rags and paper to cook their food? Perhaps not. They could probably afford piles of freshly chopped wood. The thought of food made Sparrow remember her hunger. Not that she ever truly forgot it. She was always hungry, but at least the hunger pains were not often as severe as they were when her father first left them to join the Boxers to fight the foreigners. The Boxers had promised plenty of food and fuel for fires. But Sparrow had no idea if her father ever saw such luxury. She never saw him again.
The people began to disperse, eager to get back inside away from the wind and increasing snow. Sparrow knew she needed to get to work. It was much easier to steal from people when the crowds were thick.
She climbed down the side of the building, back to the ground, and wound her way closer to the train, where many people had gathered to get a closer look. Even though it was idle, it still emitted a low growl that made the ground tremor. There were many people hanging back, afraid to get too close. But Sparrow thought that the shaking motion would make stealing even easier by masking the slight motions someone might sense as she reached into their pockets and robes to pilfer their precious items.
As the men stood around laughing and pointing at the train, trying to figure out how it worked and enjoying the warmth the beast radiated, Sparrow slipped unnoticed from person to person, grabbing whatever her slender fingers touched inside the few pockets she was able to pick without being noticed. A fan. A few coins. An ink stick. A sketch of a nude woman. The fan and ink stick she could at least sell. The sketch she crumpled up and let fall to the ground to be trampled into the mud.
Her stomach grumbled and she knew it was getting late. Thanks to the crowd, she had already stolen more than usually did on a typical day, but she knew she could still do better. She hoped to earn enough money to buy a little pork in addition to the usual rice and cabbage she usually bought. She couldn’t remember the last time her little family had eaten any meat with their rice, and her younger sister, Dove, had been looking sallow. Meat would not help the baby, Pheasant, but it could help Mama make better milk for her. Then maybe she wouldn’t cry through the long, cold night.