CHAPTER 15

“I feel I shouldn’t let you leave,” Suya said, shaking her head. The cold morning light cascaded through the window. Pinmei and Yishan were packed to go. They had planned to leave before breakfast so as not to add to Suya’s food worries, but she pushed two bowls of hot porridge into their hands. “Children, walking alone to the City of Bright Moonlight! In winter? You’re meeting someone there?”

Yishan nodded. “Well, I’m sure we will meet someone,” he hissed at Pinmei when he caught her guilty expression. Pinmei could easily imagine Suya’s horror if she knew the truth.

“Sifen, Old Sai!” Suya said, shaking her head again. “Tell them to stay!”

“I wish I could go with you,” Sifen said from his bed, the longing obvious in his voice.

Old Sai brought them two rolls. “A leather ground cover and two fur blankets,” he said with satisfaction. His eyes twinkled at them. “From the hidden hole under my bed!”

“We’ll bring them back,” Pinmei said, realizing their value.

“Just bring back a good tale, Storyteller’s granddaughter,” Old Sai said kindly.

“Yes,” Sifen called, “I’ll be expecting a good one!”

And with that, they left. The door of the stone house closed and the silence of winter mocked them. Suddenly, Pinmei yearned for the sound of Amah’s voice, and, inside, she felt as if the ever-present hollow ache would swallow her. She blinked her eyes at the glittering ice-covered stones and took a deep breath. It was time to leave the mountain.

Yishan lead Pinmei to the main road as she nestled into her multicolored coat, its warmth like Amah’s arms.

The snow began to fall—gently at first, but then heavier and heavier, flakes dropping and fluttering all around. They’re like white butterflies, Pinmei thought, hundreds and hundreds of white butterflies—and one red one? A wavering, brilliant red color flittered in front of her. A red butterfly! Impossible! Pinmei shook her head, and when she looked again, there was only the white falling snow. She must be seeing things.

After a good distance, the grumbling in Yishan’s stomach became so loud he had to admit he was hungry. As they unrolled the leather ground cover to sit at the side of the road, they found a package with a generous supply of rice balls, most likely smuggled in by Sifen or Old Sai. With cries of delight, they fell upon them as if they were candied berries.

“I hope they don’t get in trouble with Suya for giving us these,” said Pinmei with appreciation. Yishan grunted in agreement, his mouth too full to reply, and for a moment all was quiet except for their satisfied munching.

But only for a moment. For just as Pinmei swallowed her second rice ball, there was a faint rumble in the distance. She recognized that sound. Horses! Pinmei looked at Yishan in alarm.

He had cocked his head, listening intently. “Just one horse,” he said, “and coming fast. He probably won’t even notice us.”

Pinmei listened again. She could hear the galloping hooves on the stone now. They waited, not even attempting to swallow their food. Faster and closer, faster and closer, faster and closer, and at last, like a cresting wave, the rider burst out of the silver mist.

As the rider passed, Pinmei gaped at him. He was riding a milk-white horse, so white the animal blended into the snow. The rider, a flash of gleaming blue silk, looked like he was flying. They passed only for a moment, but the horse’s thundering hooves belied its grace, for it seemed to glide more than run.

As the horse and rider began to fade into the distance, Pinmei kept staring, unable to look away. So she saw it clearly when the horse screamed with a panicked shriek and reared, and the blue smear of the thrown rider collapsed to the ground.

CHAPTER 16

Both Pinmei and Yishan ran to the rider. The horse had melted into the white landscape, but the mound of luxurious gray-and-blue silk on the ground reassured them that it had not been a dream. Yishan gently turned the rider over, and they both gasped. The rider was a woman!

And she was a stunningly beautiful woman. Only moments before, Pinmei had decided the horse was the pinnacle of beauty, but now she found herself reconsidering. The opulent fur-trimmed silk and gold ornaments told of the woman’s wealth and nobility, but those were mere faded trappings compared with her loveliness. Her face, so pure and clear, could have been formed of water jade and her shining hair, loosened from its ornate pins, pooled around her like smooth black water on the white snow. Even Yishan looked amazed.

The woman opened her eyes.

“Children?” she murmured. “Why are there children here? What has happened?”

“Your horse threw you,” Yishan said. “We wanted to make sure you were all right.”

The woman sat up. She looked at them and at the countryside around her. Pinmei noticed that her eyes looked as if happiness had not shone in them for a long time.

“I remember now,” the woman said, her voice like a bamboo water chime. “BaiMa reared suddenly. It’s not like him at all. Something unexpected must have surprised him.”

Pinmei remembered the red butterfly she thought she had seen in the snow. Could that have surprised the horse?

“Do I still have…” The woman pushed aside her folds of silk and held a small bag up to her chest. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Here it is. I hope it was not hurt.”

The woman opened the bag and pulled out a lavishly embroidered fabric. As she held it open, Pinmei found herself gawking. It was an embroidered picture. There was a grand mansion surrounded by a beautiful garden with flowered fishponds and red-pillared pavilions. A sparkling river flowed before a stone wall, and mountains disappeared into a sea of clouds. The finest details were included, from the butterfly-shaped windows to the swimming ducks. Pinmei knew Amah was known for her embroidery skills, but this was extraordinary. Every thread vibrated with color.

“How beautiful,” Pinmei breathed, her awe overcoming her shyness. “It’s just like the widow’s embroidery in Amah’s story.”

“Story?” the woman inquired.

“Oh, everything reminds her of a story,” Yishan said mockingly, but also with a touch of pride. “Pinmei is a storyteller.”