Safe now, she felt the weight of exhaustion and looked forward to falling onto her bed in the attic to burrow under the soft quilts. She glanced up at the attic window, almost expecting to see Bessie’s dark face peering down, curiosity at Sun Ling’s secret journeys etched in the lines of her face.
She wasn’t there.
Sun Ling slid off Dulin and led her into the stable, guiding her to the empty stall before rewarding her with a handful of sweet oats. In her mind she pictured Luli, safe at home and tucked into bed, a small smile of contentment playing across her lips as she slept. The image calmed her, though it also made her more determined than ever that she would never stop fighting for the rights of the Chinese women and children. They had a right to live in safety and not bondage, and a right to make their home on the rich American soil. The intolerant devils could try to purge their communities all they wanted, but they’d never totally succeed.
She wasn’t naïve. Sun Ling knew she couldn’t change the world. But she could change the world that surrounded the Orchid Princess. She’d changed that of others before her. So perhaps one at time would be enough.
For now.
2
The next night, Sun Ling felt refreshed as she tied Dulin’s reins over a branch near where the Orchid Princess was kept. She signaled the horse to be silent, then crept along the lane until she found herself directly under the window of the old wooden house. Everything was quiet, the lines of men gone now that the girl was whisked out of sight. The only sound to be heard was Sun Ling’s heart, pounding rebelliously even as she tried to remain calm.
It was still a bit early, so she settled down and tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping to anyone passing by that she would be a part of the dark shadow. She’d made it this far, and that was a feat in itself. For the next part of the mission, she’d need to be calm and alert.
Deep breath. She closed her eyes. Deeper breath.
She could feel her pulse slowing.
Traversing the Chinese quarter on one of the nights set aside for the hungry ghost festival had proven to be a bit trickier. Usually the streets were empty, shops and homes dark after the midnight hour, but on this night, the many candles set out beside offerings of food had made Sun Ling feel as though she had a beam of moonlight shining upon every step of hers and Dulin’s.
Superstition held that one must not go out after dark during the festival, lest they bump into evil spirits, and Sun Ling knew this, but it didn’t change her mind about going after the girl. But she did take extra care not to stumble over any offering along the roadside, which would’ve definitely incurred the wrath of any ghosts nearby.
At one point, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, and she thought surely a wayward ghost must be following her. Who it would be, she couldn’t fathom. She’d set out her own offering of fruit and rice for her mother, and she knew of no one else in the afterworld who would be interested in her comings and goings.
She had been relieved to find it was only a young Chinese delivery boy from one of the many laundries in the quarter. They’d taken to delivering at night, since the ordinance that penalized Chinese laundrymen for not using horses or horse-drawn vehicles to deliver the laundry. Their common practice of the balancing the laundry in baskets affixed to a pole across a man’s shoulders had been forbidden, which resulted in owners changing delivery times to late night when they could creep through the dark streets undetected, for there were not many who could afford a horse or carriage.
She supposed that was one reason to be glad that San Francisco refused to put any money into gaslights for Chinatown as they had the rest of the city. Only Chinese red lanterns lit the way in an eerie red glow, disguising many a traveler—or delivery boy—as he went.
She’d scoffed at herself then, for jumping at the sound of a mere delivery boy. Suddenly she remembered she was also supposed to stay away from walls, as ghosts liked to stick to them, so she leaned forward until she no longer touched the rough planks of the house.
At dinner that night, her father had once again told her the legend of Mu Lian, a disciple of Buddha, who began the festival when he tried to save his deceased mother. The story went that before she’d died, she was a vegetarian and had unknowingly consumed meat in her soup, then denied it and was therefore condemned to hell and an eternity of wandering, alone and hungry. He’d tried to offer her a bowl of rice, but it burst into flames before she could eat it. Then he tried again, and other ghosts got the food first.
Finally, when Mu Lian sought help from Buddha, he learned how with special prayers and offerings he could relieve his mother’s sufferings. From then on, the Yu Lan Pen—ghost festival—was embraced by all Chinese.
Baba had a lot of what the foreign doctors called ‘phantom pains’ where his legs should’ve been, so he’d been spending less time working the counter at his herbal shop. Yet he still remembered all the stories and legends he’d ever known, and Sun Ling never tired of his retelling them. After so many years apart, she took every opportunity to show him she was a loyal and attentive daughter. Min Kao, Jingwei, and Luli spent the most time with him, living under his roof. Sometimes that made her envious, but Sun Ling had made the choice to stay with Adora and build her future, so she should’ve had no regrets. She was also thankful that her father had a fulltime companions in Min Kao and Jingwei, and Luli thought of him as her grandfather.
A sound startled her out of her thoughts, and she froze, not sure if it came from within the house or outside, near her.
Then she heard the window above her raising up, an inch at a time. Sun Ling prayed silently that it was not someone put on guard duty. She held her breath until she heard the whistle of a whippoorwill, and knew it came from the girl.
She stood slowly, taking care to be as silent as possible. She held her finger to her lips as she got her first close look of the Orchid Princess.
At first the girl looked startled, but when Sun Ling lifted the brim of her hat a bit, her face softened. The girl’s face was free of all paint and powder, proving her to be younger than Sun Ling had even thought. She felt a shudder of disgust at whomever had sold or taken the girl, then put her in the Chinese quarter as the latest object of a working man’s desire.
“What is your real name?” Sun Ling asked.
The girl hesitated, searching Sun Ling’s face before whispering. “Lian.”
“Are you ready to escape this life of hell, Lian?”
“What will become of me?” She looked terrified, and Sun Ling knew she wondered if she would be sold off or bartered once more, perhaps to a worse fate than being forced to dance behind a panel.
“You’ll go to a safe place for a few weeks, then together we will determine the best path for you to take,” Sun Ling whispered, looking around her again. They needed to get out of there. “But I can promise you that under my protection, you will not be abused in any fashion.”
Lian bit her lip, then stepped out of sight.
Sun Ling felt a moment of uncertainty. Had the girl changed her mind? Run for help?
She moved one step away, torn over whether she should run for cover, or try to get to Dulin. She was taking a huge chance, but she decided to wait a few more seconds.
The girl appeared again, then tossed a cloth bag out. Sun Ling set the bag aside and readied to catch her. The window wasn’t far from the ground, but could be a rough landing.