Min Kao avoided the obvious question of how Luli knew that information, instead trying to steer the man’s attention away from her. “I heard he is in San Jose and will be by here late next week, then accompany a shipment to China by the end of the month.” That was the truth, too. The bone collector who traveled throughout California was a busy man, as he was paid often and paid well to escort the bones of the deceased back to their family lands for proper burials. He’d be back soon, and hopefully then Lao Go could complete the oath he’d made to his wife on her deathbed.
“I can still get Lao Go to see to you,” Min Kao added, “He might prescribe something for your pain.”
Lao Go turned, looking around the room as though searching for someone lurking in the shadows. Then he returned his gaze to Luli, his eyes wide with fear. “Tell my wife I will follow through. And demand she take this pain from my head, for I can’t think one simple thought with all this pounding.”
“She heard you,” Luli said. “She says the pain in your head is coming from your liver and if you’d stop drinking so much báijiǔ, it would calm your yang and you’d recover.”
“Luli—that’s enough,” Min Kao scolded, though now he smelled the liquor on the man’s breath and had a feeling it was indeed causing most of the symptoms. He pointed at Luli. “Upstairs with you. I’ll be up shortly.”
She ran off, her lip out from hearing the reprimand in his voice, and Min Kao felt guilty. She was only trying to help—he knew that. Yet what she’d done was startle the man half to death.
“I only drink to forget that I’m now a lonely old man,” Lao Go said, most of the words unintelligible under his breath. “She never allowed me to have the liquor in the house before.”
“Lao Go, please sit back down.”
He shook his head and went to the door. “I must go find the bone collector today. I’ll borrow a wagon and head out to the last place he was seen. I can’t delay, lest my wife’s ghost decide to never give me peace again.” Then he hurried out as though his wife held onto his coattails and he was trying to dislodge her.
Sighing heavily, he turned to find Tao Ren behind the counter, sitting tall in his chair.
“I can explain,” he said, holding his hands out.
Tao Ren wheeled forward until he was only a few feet from Min Kao. “There’s no explanation needed. Luli did what comes natural to her, what feels right. We can’t change who the child is, we can only hope others don’t perceive her for what she isn’t.”
That was the difficult part. With a heavy heart, Min Kao turned to go upstairs and find her. He’d do his best to comfort her, but he knew that today was the beginning of a long road of heartache for a girl who didn’t understand that she possessed abilities that most didn’t.
Hours later, Min Kao watched from the doorway as Jingwei tucked the coverlet around Luli, taking every effort not to miss any part of the nightly routine they’d established over the years. First, a glass of warm milk as Luli allowed Jingwei to brush, then braid her freshly-washed hair. Then Luli crawled into bed and readied herself for her bedtime story. Sometimes she asked for something new, but more than not she wanted a repeat of an old favorite. But tonight she had something else on her mind.
“Mama, why did Lao Go get so angry with me?”
Her words struck him deep in his heart, and he almost went to her. But he’d already said his piece, and it was Jingwei’s turn to do what she could to soften the blows of reality their daughter had felt that day.
Jingwei stroked Luli’s hair out of her eyes. “Because sometimes people are frightened of what they don’t understand. Lao Go would very much like to believe that his wife was here today, but since he could not see her, it was hard for him to trust it was true. Lao Go wishes for his wife to go on to her place in the afterworld, where she is supposed to wait for him. That’s why he burned the paper money, house, and even a paper carriage. He provided for her journey, and he doesn’t want to think she is stuck here, tethered to a world where she cannot be seen or heard by those she loves.”
“But his wife just wanted me to give him a message. She said she’d go on once he does what he promised,” Luli said, her lip quivering.
Jingwei gathered Luli up in her arms and hugged her close. As she rocked her back and forth, she spoke quietly. “I don’t want you to be sad, Luli. You have a gift, and though sometimes it may not seem like it, your abilities can bring people peace. But your baba and I want you to wait until you are older before you deliver any more messages. But this time you did what Lao Go’s wife asked of you, and now you can be at peace with it. Hao le?”
Luli pulled away and nodded, though Min Kao could see she was still upset. He left the doorway and joined them on the bed. “What do we have here?” he asked. “If my little empress is going to shed tears, please let me get my gold-encrusted carafe so that we may catch them.”
She smiled through her tears.
“Because,” Min Kao said, his tone teasing, “We all know that tears from the infamous Empress of Chinatown are very valuable, and if we can only catch a few of the tiny gems, we will be rich indeed.”
Luli laughed, the episode with Lao Go forgotten for now. “Mama, tell me how you got your name.”
“Yes, tell us, little bird,” Min Kao agreed, settling his back against the wall. He was glad Luli was back to the routine, and requesting a story she knew by heart.
“Well,” Jingwei began, “in the ancient works of Shan Hai Jing, he tells a story of a little girl born to the majestic Sun God. Her name was Nvwa, and every morning, she was sad as her father left her to go to the East Sea and direct the rising of the sun.”
“She wanted to go to the East Sea, too,” Luli said.
Jingwei nodded. “Yes, she did. But her father said she wasn’t yet old enough, so one day after he’d gone, she took a row boat and tried to follow.”
“The sea rose up like a monster, and the waves swallowed her up,” Luli said.
“The end,” Min Kao said.
“No, Baba,” Luli said, exasperation in her voice.
Jingwei gave him a scolding look. “No, that’s not the end. Is it, Luli?”
Luli shook her head, and Jingwei continued, “Nvwa died, but she came back as a big bird with red claws and a white beak. She was so angry at the sea that she vowed she would fill it up. Every day from morning until dark, she worked, using her beak and claws to carry stones and branches, throwing them into the sea.”
“And she cried out, ‘Jingwei, jingwei!’ as she worked,” Luli said.
“Yes, she chanted the word to encourage herself to keep going. Year after year, she kept working to try to fill the sea, and she became a symbol to the Chinese people that one should never give up on a dream,” Jingwei said, then stood.
“Determination can reduce an iron rod to a sewing needle,” Min Kao added, with a wink at Luli, “but you won’t help a new plant grow faster by pulling it up higher.”
“Baba, do you know every Chinese proverb there ever was?” Luli asked.
Jingwei laughed. “Yes, Luli, I think he does, and through your baba, I’ve heard them all, too. That one means determination is a great quality to have, but patience is also needed.” She kissed Luli on the forehead. “Good night, and I hope you sleep soundly, with nothing but lovely dreams.”