Song of the Silk Road (20 page)

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Authors: Mingmei Yip

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BOOK: Song of the Silk Road

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“Then why are you selling it now on the street?”

“I need the money. My son has been waiting for a kidney transplant.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Then buy this bracelet and save a life.” He took out his wallet, pulled out a picture, and showed it to me. “Me and my Baobao, nine years old.”

The picture showed the vendor with a bright-eyed boy in front of a mud cottage.

“But your son doesn’t look sick at all.”

“That was taken long time ago. I didn’t take any pictures of him since he’s got sick.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope he’ll get well someday.”

“I hope so, too.”

I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist, and it fit perfectly. But I asked, “Don’t you think it’d be bad luck to wear someone else’s blood around?”

He laughed, squinting at me. “No, on the contrary, it’s good luck.”

“How?”

“You kidding? Because the blood will enhance the circulation of your blood!”

His comment reminded me of my mother’s fondness for cooking me pig’s brain soup. Almost all older generation Chinese believe in
yixing buxing
—one shape boosting another similar one. Thus chicken feet are to build dexterous fingers; animals’ bones, your bone (especially menopausal women); pigs’ kidneys to strengthen your kidneys; chicken heart, your heart . . .

As a child, I bitterly hated this creamy, white, yucky pig’s brain soup but was forced to drink till not a single, precious drop was wasted. Didn’t it ever enter my mother’s mind that eating pig’s brain might turn her child’s brain into a pig’s?

I asked, “Then why don’t you save this for your son?”

“It’s too small for him. Besides, it only works when the bracelet has direct contact with one’s flesh.”

“All right, I’ll take it.” Even though I thought what he’d said about the blood was sheer nonsense, it was nonetheless a very titillating concept. So I took out my purse, pulled out ten bills, and handed them to the vendor. Then I took off the bracelet for him to put inside a silk pouch.

“Thank you very much.” He looked very happy, but his tone was chiding. “Miss, next time don’t just show your money like this. I’m an honest person, but not the others around here. When people see that you’re a cash-carrying tourist, I can assure you that their brains will suddenly heat up.”

I chuckled. “Thanks for the advice.”

“All right, you take good care of yourself.” He lifted up the four corners of his blanket and tied them into a thick knot. After that, he threw the bag over his shoulder and hurried away before I had a chance to say, “You, too.”

As I stood up to walk, I felt a lead weighing on my heart. Would my meager one thousand really save a child’s life? I couldn’t help but take the bracelet out of its silk pouch to take another look at it. Now the red streak conjured in my mind the image of the desert’s setting sun, the blood from a wounded prince on a battlefield, one of Lop Nor’s most treasured herbs. . . .

Seized by a Ghost

T
he next day I took a train, then a donkey cart back to the little village. Once home, I hid the two fakes inside the tire, then got a bucket of water from the communal tap and washed myself. Feeling refreshed, I took out my bracelet to appreciate, caressing the ivory’s texture, marveling at the streak of red, admiring the exquisite craftsmanship of the antique silver clasp. As I enjoyed my new treasure, my exhaustion and fear seemed to vanish into thin air.

I slipped the bracelet onto my right wrist, then swung it around to feel its solid weight and silky texture. In a happy mood, I brewed tea, ensconced myself on the tire sofa to comfortably sip the steaming amber liquid, then studied my map to plan my trip to the fortune-teller.

A few minutes later, however, I found myself unable to concentrate with a slight headache coming on. I sipped more tea, massaged my temples, took several deep breaths, and resumed reading. But now I couldn’t focus at all. Words on the pages blurred together, like dead ants floating on an oil-filled wok. And my headache escalated. I sensed an anxiety attack coming on, but this time it was real, not surreal like the one at Floating Cloud’s temple.

A loud sneeze,
“Haqiiiiii!”
exploded from my nose and mouth, followed by my eyes and nose running, then by more
“Haqiiiiii! Haqiiiiii!”
like a musical motif.

I tried to go to bed, but as soon as I stood up my stomach was ambushed by pangs so severe that I had to plunge back down on the tire. Worse, I also started to cough violently, and my temples throbbed like a ghost frantically knocking as it tried to re-enter the
yang
world. In less than ten minutes I had become a complete mess! Then an unspeakable fear seized me: Had I caught some horrible, contagious disease from the bazaar?

“Please, I don’t want to die. My worldly business is not yet finished!” My voice sounded desperate in the desert air, which remained adamantly unresponsive.

Despite my extreme discomfort, I rummaged around in my backpack and managed to find the small bottle of medicinal oil. Once I had rubbed the strong, mint-smelling liquid on my temples I felt a little better. I decided to ask Keku for help.

Keku’s expression looked as if she were encountering not me, but my departed soul.

As she led me inside her cottage, she exclaimed, “Oh, heavens, what happened? Did you just have an interview with the King of Hell?!”

I was dizzy; my voice came out weak and breathless. “I don’t know, I just don’t feel well. Do I really look that bad?”

“Yes, your face is as white as a ghost!”

Now Keku’s three women friends all dashed up to gather around me, their strong fingers probing my forehead and cheeks and pinching my third eye. One held her fingers under my nose to see if I was breathing and alive—or a ghost. Thrown off balance by the sudden, overwhelming hormonal attention, my legs gave out and I collapsed onto the floor. Screams and confusion flew around me like bees buzzing in all directions. In my semiconscious state, I felt my body being lifted onto the bed. After that, medicinal oil and hot towels were passed and applied, hot tea was forced down my throat, and thick blankets were thrown over my shivering body. Their improvised movements were surprisingly orchestrated.

While they fussed over me like vultures over a dead body, a loud scream “Oh, heavens, no!” shot out from Keku’s lips and exploded in the room, followed by a succession of rapid mutterings in the same manner from the other women.

I tried to get up but was immediately pressed down by eight strong arms. One pair rubbed something extremely pungent under my nose and onto my third eye, another made small chopping movements up and down my torso, yet another gesticulated wildly while emitting unintelligible utterings.

“Why . . . ?” I started to ask, but before I could finish my sentence, I fell into a deep sleep.

It was night when I woke up. The house was eerily quiet, except for some soft banging of pots and pans. While Keku must have been busy preparing dinner, her son, Mito, was sitting on a chair next to me, watching me intently with his innocent brown eyes.

As soon as those dutiful eyes saw that their exotic Chinese friend was coming back to life, the little boy began to scream at the top of his voice. “Mama! Mama!” I wondered how such a loud, high-pitched voice could possibly be generated from such a tiny body.

Something dropped in the corner with a metallic bang, then Keku’s face appeared in front of me, her fleshy hand on my forehead, and her finger across her mouth. “Shhh . . .”

After a few moments, she asked tentatively, “You OK now?”

I nodded.

“Thank heavens that the spirit finally left you! Evil spirit!”

I looked around the small house. Besides Keku and her son, there were no other people. “What spirit? What are you talking about?”

“Those dirty things. Puuuuhhhh, gone!”

“Keku, can you explain to me what happened?”

Instead of answering, she spoke to Mito and the child suddenly thrust out his arm and pinched my cheek hard with his chubby fingers!

This took me by such surprise that I let out a loud
“Aiiiya!”
I turned to my landlady. “Keku, how can you let a four-year-old do this to me?”

To my surprise, instead of turning to scold her son, she rubbed his head affectionately. “Good job, Mito.” Then to me: “Miss Lin, Mito is doing you big favor!”

“Are you kidding me? How?”

“You react, so you OK.” She laughed. “Ha, ha, we make sure you alive. A child has purest
qi
to sense yours.”

Before I could respond, she asked, “You really feeling better now?”

I collected my scattered
qi
, recalling my earlier discomforts. “Yes, I think I’m pretty much back to normal now.”

“You sure?”

I nodded emphatically. “The headache and stomachache are gone, and so are my runny nose and teary eyes. Yes, I definitely feel fine. Thank you and your friends.”

She pointed upward. “Don’t thank me, thank heaven.”

“Where’s the dirty thing?” I almost chuckled out loud.

She pointed to my wrist.

I lifted my hand and realized my ivory bracelet was gone! I screamed to Keku’s face, “Oh, my God, where’s my bracelet? I paid one thousand
renminbi
for it!” I wished I could have taken my words back because I didn’t want them to think I was rich—by their standards.

But it was too late. Her eyes were rounded like two lanterns. “Did you say one thousand?”

I didn’t respond.

She laughed triumphantly. “So I just threw one thousand
renminbi
away. Ha! I can’t believe . . .”

“What? How could you do that? Why didn’t you ask my permission first? It’s one thousand, not one hundred, you understand?”

“Of course I can tell difference between one hundred and one thousand.” Then suddenly she laughed like a drunk lifted up by a hurricane. “Ha, ha, ha, ha, one thousand! Miss Lin”—she started to count her fingers—“one thousand can buy three sheep, dozen chickens, new bicycle for Mito, new cooking pan for me, new—”

I cut her off. “Why did you throw my bracelet away?”

“To save you!”

I tried to get up. “Where did you throw it away? I’m going to get it back.”

Keku said something to Mito, and the mother-and-son duo pressed me down with such a powerful force that I felt like a rat squirming under an elephant’s leg.

I screamed, throwing each a dirty look. “Leave me alone and let me go find my bracelet!”

She screamed back, “It was that bracelet that almost killed you!”

“What are you talking about?”

“That bracelet is possessed!”

“Possessed?”

“Have you ever seen blood trapped inside a bracelet, sloshing around like a wandering, bleeding ghost? That’s why you got so sick. I pulled you back from the Gate of Hell by throwing it away! And instead of thanking me, you’re screaming at me!” Her voice was excited and triumphant, soaring into a heaven-reaching register.

Some silence passed before I gave up struggling. “OK, thank you very much, Keku. Can you two please release me now?”

The four hands left me like a breeze.

She went on. “When I lifted your wrist to check pulse I noticed your bracelet. Since it was such a pretty thing, I moved it around to look. Then,
Wah!
There was blood moving around with it! I was scared to death. It must be blood from your wrist! My heart sank, because that meant you must be already on your way to see the King of Hell and too late to come back!

“But I wouldn’t give up on friend. So I rubbed my eyes hard to see which part of your wrist the blood came from. But it was not from your wrist, but from your bracelet!

“I wanted to call for help but all my friends had left and Mito is too little to leave with you. Besides, if you were really going to die, I had to see you off and say last good-bye. When I checked your pulse again, it felt even weaker. I decided to do something to pull you back from other side. And quick, before it was too late!

“I took another careful look at the bracelet. Suddenly I realized it must be the ghost who was once the owner of this piece who wouldn’t let go. It was jealous of the new owner—you. So it wanted to take away your life so it can sneak back. Knowing it was a ghost, goose bumps splashed all over my body and all my hair stood up like needles. Then I saw the same happen to Mito’s hair!”

Keku went on excitedly. “I knew what to do. I used all my mother’s-milk-sucking strength to try pull bracelet off your hand. But it fit you so tightly that it refused to leave. A bloody spirit living in that bracelet was trying to take over yours!

“I dashed inside kitchen to get cooking oil, and dashed back to smear around your wrist. Then I shouted, ‘One, two, three,’ and pulled! The bracelet flew off your wrist and dropped onto the floor with loud
bang!
And the blood inside looked like it was boiling. So the spirit must be furious that its chance to take over you was smothered by me. Not one minute wasted, I pulled Mito with me and walked three miles to nobody land. I dug a deep hole, making sure it was so deep that the spirit had no way to get out. Finished, I put sand back to fill the hole, and I taught Mito to say a prayer with me to pacify the ghost.”

After she finished, Keku touched my forehead with great affection.

“See, Miss Lin, now your fever and pain gone and you completely recovered.”

She turned to say something to Mito. The child clapped enthusiastically and leaned to give me a saliva-smearing kiss.

The gesture was so unexpected that I was moved beyond words. When I regained my composure, I said to the mother-and-son duo, “Thank you so much, Keku, and you, Mito,” and playfully pinched the child’s rosy cheek.

I thought for a while, then told Keku how and where I’d gotten the bracelet.

After I finished, I asked, “Keku, then how come the bracelet didn’t hurt the seller?”

“Because he is not wearing it. Spirit can only come alive when direct contact with flesh.”

“Keku, do you think that the vendor is a bad person?”

Now it was her turn to think. “He told you it was a burial object, so he may know there is bad spirit inside. But I guess he has no choice if he needs money to pay for his son’s operation. He might even think he can exchange his son’s sickness with yours.”

“Is that so? Oh, my God!”

“Or maybe just an imposter, doesn’t even have son.”

Her remark made me feel utterly stupid.

Keku smiled. “Don’t worry, Miss Lin. You’ve recovered. But,” she said emphatically, “next time when you go shopping, don’t forget to bring me along!”

“Yes, ma’am!” I smiled, then said, “Keku, tell me where you buried my bracelet.”

She shook her head so hard I feared it might come off her neck.

“Please.”

“So you want to find ghost and bring back to village? No way!”