Chapter 30
Meilin
Though Meilin and Ailin escaped from immediate danger, it was clear the home they had returned to was not the same as it was before.
Batong Mansion was quieter, and, though there was enough to eat, the fare was not as extravagant as it once was.
People in the household dressed simply, and their jewelry began disappearing.
Meilin wondered how much was being used to trade for medicine and other necessary supplies for those in need.
The markets in the northwest quadrant of the city where the Jiangs lived and owned numerous shops should have been bustling during the summer. This year, however, the area near Chang Gate was desolate, heavily impacting the family’s business.
Despite the Wōkòu disturbance, the Jiangs were faring better than many of their neighbors, as well as the refugees who filled the streets.
Aunt Meng insisted on using their food stores to make porridge for the needy.
Grand-mother Jiang and Mama supported her, one with encouragement, the other with labor.
After a month of recuperation, Meilin wanted to help distribute porridge too. Staying inside made her restless, especially when she was curious about the world outside Batong Mansion’s walls, a world Captain Bai was literally fighting to protect with his life.
Mama hesitated to let Meilin go because she had not yet regained full use of her arm, but Meilin contended that the wound had closed and her feet were fine, so there was no harm in walking with the others who were going.
In the end, she convinced Mama to let her accompany Begonia, Tian, Ming-ming, Lucky, and Sun on a small trip outside.
As the oldest in the group, Begonia and Tian led the way.
Meilin smiled to see them walking together.
Begonia carried a big pot of porridge while Tian followed with a wooden table.
Begonia had spent weeks angry at Tian for leaving Meilin and Ailin behind during the escape from the Wōkòu, but after much convincing from the sisters regarding his heroic assistance to Uncle Meng, she had forgiven him and was now happy to have him close.
Cousin Lucky, a boy the same age as Ming-ming, followed Begonia and Tian while carrying a stack of bowls for the porridge, but, behind him, Ming-ming and Sun were arguing.
For a girl of fourteen, Ming-ming could carry quite a load of bowls, but Sun could carry twice as much because he was a year older and had military training, which irked Ming-ming for some reason.
Meilin slipped between Ming-ming and Sun so the two would stop bickering. It was strange how easygoing Sun was with anyone but Ming-ming. Her little sister seemed to have a special talent for bringing out the most intense parts of other people’s personalities.
Begonia had everyone stop and set up their porridge station at an intersection a few blocks away from Batong Mansion. People began lining up for porridge as soon as Begonia began ladling the soupy concoction into bowls.
As Meilin handed out full bowls to people with her good arm, she was surprised to see that the people in line looked worse off than the lowest servants at Batong Mansion. Some were dressed in rags and looked like they hadn’t eaten in days.
“These are the lucky refugees who got into the city,” Ming-ming whispered to her.
“The first time I came here with Begonia to distribute porridge, we could hear people crying from outside Chang Gate. They say hundreds were trampled when they tried to rush into the city, and the local commander did nothing but close the gates.”
Meilin stared at her sister in horror.
“That’s why I brought you and Ailin-jiě through Xu Gate,” Sun added as if he had been listening to her conversation with Ming-ming the whole time. “Captain Bai knew Commander Rén was keeping it open, unlike the coward at Chang Gate.”
Meilin shook her head as she realized how doubly lucky she was to have been found by Captain Bai.
After dishing out the last of the porridge and collecting all the empty bowls, the small group from Batong Mansion headed home.
Meilin felt more exhausted than she had in days.
She was walking through the courtyards, looking forward to going straight to bed, when the melody of “Flowing Water” stopped her in her tracks.
The rendition of Bóyá and Zǐqī’s legendary song was surprisingly good, even though the soft notes obviously came from a child’s fingers. Meilin followed the sound of the zither until she found Sandy practicing alone in a garden.
“What are you doing here by yourself?” Meilin asked.
Sandy had moved into Batong Mansion full-time since Captain Bai left to fight Wōkòu, but she was usually with Treasure and Fortune, not alone.
Sandy stopped playing to look up at Meilin. “Playing the zither is the only thing that makes me feel better when my tummy hurts, but Treasure and Fortune think it’s boring.”
“Are you ill?” Meilin asked as she walked toward Sandy. She knelt and placed her hand over the child’s forehead to check for fever.
“My tummy feels upset whenever I miss Uncle, and I always miss him.” Tears began streaking down Sandy’s cheeks.
Meilin swept the little girl up in a comforting hug. “Oh, my sweet child,” she cooed as she rubbed Sandy’s back.
After several minutes, Sandy stopped crying, but she was still sniffling.
Meilin handed her a handkerchief Mama had embroidered ages ago, sadly noting how Sandy didn’t have a mother to embroider her handkerchiefs and now her only guardian was gone on a dangerous mission.
“Would it help you feel better if we started zither lessons again?” Meilin asked in her best attempt at a cheerful voice. “I could teach you some new songs to perform for your uncle once he returns.”
He better return, Meilin thought as she remembered the anxiety she felt when he marched off with his troops.
“Are you sure you can teach me? I heard your arm got hurt really bad from an arrow.”
Meilin stroked Sandy’s hair. The child was thoughtful, much more considerate of others than Meilin had been at the same age. She wondered if Sandy learned it from Captain Bai.
According to the doctor, Meilin’s arm would probably take another month to fully heal.
If she was being honest, she knew she was in no state to play the zither right now.
She didn’t even know if she would ever fully recover her abilities.
However, resuming Sandy’s zither lessons would give the little girl a healthy channel to direct her feelings.
That was something Meilin wanted, regardless of how her arm felt.
“I might not be able to model the right technique like I used to, but I can still listen to you and give you advice on how to improve. Do you want that?”
“Yes, please!”
Sandy’s smile touched Meilin’s heart. Waiting to heal and waiting for Captain Bai to come back was hard, but having someone to wait with made the prospect slightly easier to bear.
It had been two months since the start of the Wōkòu raid.
The material conditions inside Suzhou’s city walls improved somewhat as the pirates were driven away from the surrounding countryside.
The shops near Chang Gate reopened as the canal connecting it to Maple Bridge and beyond gradually stabilized.
Unfortunately, there was no reliable news about Captain Bai or when he was coming back.
Sun said it was normal for troops not to send letters to civilians while they were on the move, but that information brought Meilin little comfort.
The people at Batong Mansion could only hope that the captain was safe.
Meilin never thought of herself as a believer, but she found herself praying with Aunt Meng more often than she had in the past. The only other outlet for her anxieties was zither lessons with Sandy.
The summer days were hot and humid, so Meilin had Sandy practice in the mornings.
As autumn approached, they shifted to afternoons.
The days began growing shorter, and they savored the time they connected through music.
Neither of them talked about their worries, but Meilin was certain she knew who Sandy was thinking about whenever she played, because she thought about him too.
On a relatively calm afternoon, Meilin was trying to teach Sandy the first part of “The Fisherman and the Woodcutter” when a visitor walked into the courtyard.
His steps were so quiet that Meilin noticed him only after Sandy stopped playing.
The little girl sprang up, tripping over her chair as she launched herself toward him. “Uncle!”
Captain Bai caught her and twirled her around. Their laughter filled the air, clearer than the bright autumn sky.
Meilin’s heart caught in her throat. She watched their happy reunion, uncertain if she should approach.
She had thought about Captain Bai frequently since he saved her life, but it was unlikely that he thought as much about her.
Fighting Wōkòu was so dangerous that he probably had no time for stray thoughts.
His face was dusty, and he looked like he hadn’t washed or rested for days. Had he returned straight from the battlefield as fast as he could? She noticed the dents in his armor.
Captain Bai found her with his eyes, and his face lit up at the sight of her.
He set down Sandy and walked directly toward her. When he was only a step away from her, he reached into his pocket.
“I kept my promise,” he said as he brought out the gold chāi pin she had given him for luck.
Meilin’s heart melted like a candle under a flame. Her lips curved upward uncontrollably, but she embraced her emotions. “Thank you for coming home safely.”
He slid the chāi pin into her hair and smiled back. When he swept her up in his strong, solid arms, no moment was ever more perfect. He was every bit worth the wait.