At last the door opened, and Dai Gor sauntered up to Baba with his bicycle. Baba scowled. He had a headache, he said, and he needed to nap. He didn’t pat me on the head when I brought him his pipe and wished him a good rest.
While he slept, rain poked out of the clouds and flooded the courtyard. When evening came, I called Baba to dinner, only to find that he was gone.
Mama said nothing, but she took away his bowl and his chopsticks, placed them back in the cupboard, and latched the doors shut. That was all we needed to know.
A few months later, the Japanese invaded China.
Chapter Four
“Did she bring rice?”
I was half asleep, still clinging to Mama’s neck, when we arrived back at our camp, but Dai Gor’s voice was a pinprick to my dreams. I stirred immediately when she set me down.
“You forget what a bigheaded prawn your mui mui is,” Ah Ma was replying. “We’re lucky she even knew which house was ours.”
“She got the medicine,” said Mama sharply. She whirled. “Syun Tung, stop playing with that radio. If the Japanese catch our signal—”
My oldest brother fiddled with the knobs, and the static grew louder before it shut off completely. “She could’ve brought food, too,” he groused. “A bag of rice wouldn’t have killed her.”
Mama glared him into silence.
We’d been in the hills twenty days now, ten since we’d run out of rice. My belly curved in like a bowl, and I was tired—oh so tired—of eating yams. But after today, I would’ve eaten a whole box of them. A pot burbled just outside the tent, and I hoped it was dinner.
My grandmother loomed over me. “Did they come into our house?” she asked, for that was the only thing that mattered to her.
“Yes,” I said, slowly sitting up.
Ah Ma sniffed, then she began her lament. “My house. My beautiful, beautiful house, soiled by those scoundrels! If not for these old joints, these weak bones, I’d have thrown them all out.”
The house was everything to my grandmother. If I tripped over a loose floor tile, she’d bemoan the scuffed tile and not the cut on my knees, then strike me for not being more careful.
“I can’t believe you didn’t get killed,” Dai Gor said, setting down his precious radio. “Were they carrying vipers?”
“Yes.”
My brother went on, “Uncle Tong’s son said that they killed a hundred people last week, and even after the rain, the fields still smell like blood—”
I gave his radio a good kick. It was the only way to shut him up.
“Ma! Did you see what she did?”
“Enough,” said Mama. She dipped outside the tent, stirring the soup pot with a ladle. A pungent herbal smell suffused the air; she was making Yi Gor’s medicine. “Your sister has had a long day. So have I.”
Dai Gor sent me a dirty look and stormed out.
Ah Ma clucked her tongue. “You’re too hard on him, Yuk Fong. Sons are treasures.”
“What good haveyourtreasures done? All three left you behind.”
Ah Ma’s face darkened. “You watch your tongue.”
Mama didn’t argue further. It was as far as she’d ever go. She was the kettle on the fire that only simmered but never boiled.
“An errant son is worth four dutiful daughters,” Ah Ma said. “Your daughter may be dutiful, but Syun Tung is right, she should have brought food. A thoughtful girl would have brought back some rice for her sick brother. No wonder she did so dreadfully in school.”
At the insult, my cheeks grew hot. My Ha blood was petty and never forgot a slight.
Be good,I reminded myself. The gods had saved me; in return, I couldn’t disappoint them.
