most splendid of temples, on a bend in the backwaters of the great Pearl River. The banks had been built up with blocks of stone to form a shallow pool, sheltered by a screen of trailing greenery, where for a few stolen moments, the children of the moon splashed like otters at play.
Dried and glowing, dressed identically to those around her, Li-Xia became a member of the family. Turtle showed her how to lace the rope-soled sandals, binding them securely around shin pads of stout canvas with strings of twisted reed.
“These will help you climb the mulberry tree and protect you from the snake that hides in the grass.”
Pebble stood watching, pleased to see how readily Crabapple was accepted by her sisters. She reached out to check the shin pads with a tug of the thongs that bound them.
“Always tie them well and you will not fall; the bark of the mulberry tree will not take off your skin. From this first day you must do all things for yourself—it is the fastest way to learn. If you fall, ask yourself why and do not fall the same way again.”
Pebble’s eyes were merry as she placed the wide wicker hat on Li-Xia’s head. “The sun can be strong in the groves, just as the rain can wash you away and the wind will try to take you in its arms. You will always need the shelter of this hat; do not lose it or you will have to make another.”
She chuckled, pinching Li-Xia lightly on the cheek. “You have the skin of your northern mother; protect it if you hope for more in life than to be mother to a silkworm.”
She tied the strip of black gauze that held the hat in place beneath Li’s chin, taking a step back, nodding her approval, inviting the others to do the same.
“Well, she certainly looks like one of the mui-mui . Now we will see if she can work like one.”
The sandals light and secure upon her feet, the plentiful bulk of congee—rich rice porridge—and hot green tea warming her belly, Crabapple followed Pebble and her new family, well ahead of others still swallowing their rice.
“First to arrive and first to leave: This is the way of the mung-cha-cha ,” Pebble said, setting her fast, rocking pace. Moments later, farther along the river’s edge, they stopped at a large open shed where a dozen boys were spreading heaps of cocoons with wide wooden rakes. They greeted the mung-cha-cha with insulting words and crude gestures. Pebble replied in kind.
“They are the larn-jai , Crabapple,” she said carelessly when they had passed. “Broken boys with no home but the riverbanks—they sort and clean the cocoons and gather wood to boil them and kill the moth.”
“I have seen and heard much worse from those I thought to be my brothers.”
“Good, then we shall pay them no mind—words are harmless and they are afraid of me and our protector, Giant Yun.”
As if these words had summoned him, a man of enormous size stepped from the shed, his short thick forearms encased in sleeves of leather strapped to his shoulders and capped with hooks where his hands should be. His huge chest was crossed by a leather harness studded with brass, an even wider belt around his girth braced with more buckles and loops of chain. Slung across his back was a huge blunderbuss, its flared muzzle resting against his shoulder, the carved wooden butt below the back of his knee. His mighty legs were clad in loose-fitting brown breeches, leaving massive calf muscles and bare feet brown and scarred as old mahogany. Giant Yun’s face was broad and fearsome to look upon, with a wide mouth that showed uneven teeth beneath a flattened nose. His gleaming skull set in shoulders bunched with muscle, his eyes radiated goodwill as he greeted the mung-cha-cha with a wicked grin.
“Good morning, young ladies. Yun hopes you slept well and there was hah-mui to flavor your congee this beautiful morning.”
He bowed low to them, then crossed to the cart and reached for the trace chains that were meant to harness an ox.
“Your palanquin
Dried and glowing, dressed identically to those around her, Li-Xia became a member of the family. Turtle showed her how to lace the rope-soled sandals, binding them securely around shin pads of stout canvas with strings of twisted reed.
“These will help you climb the mulberry tree and protect you from the snake that hides in the grass.”
Pebble stood watching, pleased to see how readily Crabapple was accepted by her sisters. She reached out to check the shin pads with a tug of the thongs that bound them.
“Always tie them well and you will not fall; the bark of the mulberry tree will not take off your skin. From this first day you must do all things for yourself—it is the fastest way to learn. If you fall, ask yourself why and do not fall the same way again.”
Pebble’s eyes were merry as she placed the wide wicker hat on Li-Xia’s head. “The sun can be strong in the groves, just as the rain can wash you away and the wind will try to take you in its arms. You will always need the shelter of this hat; do not lose it or you will have to make another.”
She chuckled, pinching Li-Xia lightly on the cheek. “You have the skin of your northern mother; protect it if you hope for more in life than to be mother to a silkworm.”
She tied the strip of black gauze that held the hat in place beneath Li’s chin, taking a step back, nodding her approval, inviting the others to do the same.
“Well, she certainly looks like one of the mui-mui . Now we will see if she can work like one.”
The sandals light and secure upon her feet, the plentiful bulk of congee—rich rice porridge—and hot green tea warming her belly, Crabapple followed Pebble and her new family, well ahead of others still swallowing their rice.
“First to arrive and first to leave: This is the way of the mung-cha-cha ,” Pebble said, setting her fast, rocking pace. Moments later, farther along the river’s edge, they stopped at a large open shed where a dozen boys were spreading heaps of cocoons with wide wooden rakes. They greeted the mung-cha-cha with insulting words and crude gestures. Pebble replied in kind.
“They are the larn-jai , Crabapple,” she said carelessly when they had passed. “Broken boys with no home but the riverbanks—they sort and clean the cocoons and gather wood to boil them and kill the moth.”
“I have seen and heard much worse from those I thought to be my brothers.”
“Good, then we shall pay them no mind—words are harmless and they are afraid of me and our protector, Giant Yun.”
As if these words had summoned him, a man of enormous size stepped from the shed, his short thick forearms encased in sleeves of leather strapped to his shoulders and capped with hooks where his hands should be. His huge chest was crossed by a leather harness studded with brass, an even wider belt around his girth braced with more buckles and loops of chain. Slung across his back was a huge blunderbuss, its flared muzzle resting against his shoulder, the carved wooden butt below the back of his knee. His mighty legs were clad in loose-fitting brown breeches, leaving massive calf muscles and bare feet brown and scarred as old mahogany. Giant Yun’s face was broad and fearsome to look upon, with a wide mouth that showed uneven teeth beneath a flattened nose. His gleaming skull set in shoulders bunched with muscle, his eyes radiated goodwill as he greeted the mung-cha-cha with a wicked grin.
“Good morning, young ladies. Yun hopes you slept well and there was hah-mui to flavor your congee this beautiful morning.”
He bowed low to them, then crossed to the cart and reached for the trace chains that were meant to harness an ox.
“Your palanquin
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