“Mrs. Li,” I said as I bowed low, “Teacher is here.”
She snorted with irritation and waved her arm, her voluminous silk sleeve flapping like a flag of surrender. “Go,” she dismissed me.
I hid my smile and tried to walk humbly, as all the browbeaten servants were supposed to do. Unlike Aunty Wang, however, I was not tired of Mrs. Li’s complaining story. I had no memory of my mother, but hearing how she had dared to make demands of the formidable Mrs. Li on my behalf always made me feel a sense of pride. Despite my mother’s poor circumstances, she must have been spirited.
And perhaps it was my mother’s spirit that forced Mrs. Li to keep her promise. For on the day I turned six, a new tutor came to the House of Li. As I cringed during my daily duty of emptying the chamber pots, I saw the top of his black scholar’s hat glide slowly past the family shrine into the schoolroom. He had come for Mrs. Li’s repulsive only son, FuDing, of course. The learned scholar was yet another tutor hired in hopes that FuDing could be taught something. The last two teachers had departed in disgrace as well as anger. For, because FuDing remained unable to read a single poem, Mrs. Li had also refused the tutors’ pay.
My birthday and a new tutor’s entry should have been of small consequence to the House of Li, except it was also on that day that the incense of the ancestral shrine refused to light. Master Li tried again and again, but no matter how large a flame he held, the incense would not burn. In desperation, Master Li turned to the new tutor for answers.
“It is apparent,” the scholar said, “that you or someone in your household has shamed your ancestors. Perhaps someone has stolen something or has broken a promise.”
“Of course.” Master Li nodded with respect. Then he snapped at Mrs. Li. “Wife! We have angered our ancestors! What have you done?”
The House of Li roared into a typhoon as all, from the head cook to the lowliest servant (me), were questioned. When it was discovered that it was my sixth birthday, Mrs. Li remembered her promise to my mother, then paled and swayed like a blanched stalk of bamboo.
“It couldn’t be…,” she said in horror.
But it could be and probably was, the new tutor said, and immediately quoted his price for two students. Mrs. Li, still aghast at the revelation and fending off insults from her husband, did not even haggle over the price. (She did try later, claiming that as a girl I should be cheaper, but he responded that because I was a girl he should be paid more, as he was making an exception, so the matter was dropped.) And I began my education.
That was over six years ago. It was also over six years ago that I saw my Teacher walk in with a new pair of shoes. Those shoes glided on the smooth stone floor, only hesitating as he paused in front of the shrine. With a sharp glance around, he quickly changed the incense—insuring my lessons and his larger salary.
“You are late, Lingsi!” Teacher said, but without anger. He knew Mrs. Li was always the reason for my tardiness.
“Lingsi is late!” FuDing sneered. I tried to consider FuDing with kindness, for it was his inability to read little more than his name that had granted me so many years of lessons. But it was difficult. His body had, over the years, grown into a man’s, but he was still the same lazy, spoiled brat he had been as a boy. If anything, the years had made him even more horrible, for now he had a vicious streak that delighted in cruelty. I couldn’t help shivering when I saw that he was pulling the legs off crickets again.
“Today’s poem,” Teacher said, ignoring FuDing, “is ‘The Difficult Path’ by Li Po.”
I knelt at the table and began to read.
“I will ride the winds and
Surmount endless waves.
Setting sail on the vast ocean,
I will one day reach
The distant shores.”
“The ocean,” I murmured. I had been outside the walled estate of the House of Li only a handful of times. However, one time Shuwan, the head cook, and I had been sent to town to buy pepper, and I had caught a glimpse of the sea. But only a glimpse, for when I tried to see more, I was yanked away. Shuwan had a terror of pirates and was convinced that just looking at the sea could make them appear.
“Li Po writes of endless hardships,” Teacher said, “but you also feel his valiant spirit. I hope this is something you remember, Lingsi.”
I looked up at him, the question in my eyes, since I dared not ask with my voice.
“Today is our last lesson,” Teacher said. “Mrs. Li has informed me that FuDing will soon be of marrying age and his time must now be spent in…other ways.”