There was no getting rid of him. I nodded and started up another one of Hong Kong’s damned hills.
“I recall exactly where we left off. Yeh Shen yearned to go to the Spring Festival, but her stepmother forbade it. In spite of this, Yeh Shen harbored no grudge and remained as kind and good as ever.
“For years, her stepmother had saddled Yeh Shen with chores and hard labor. The only time the girl was allowed to leave home was to wash clothes at the river behind the village. Wanting to know why Yeh Shen remained so happy, one day the stepmother secretly followed her to the river. There, she spotted Yeh Shen talking with the fish.”
“The fish?” I repeated.
“Have you forgotten? Yeh Shen befriended a fish whose scales shone like drops of sunlight, so magnificent that crows constantly circled it, desperate to peck at the gold. To protect her friend, Yeh Shen wove a seaweed sheath to cover its scales, but the sheath was fragile and often needed to be repaired. She’d sit by the river, talking to her fish while she worked.”
“Her stepmother saw,” I said, my stomach roiling with dread.
Tommy confirmed with a nod. “The next morning, the lady brought a basket of laundry to the river and lured the fish out by pretending to be Yeh Shen. ‘I’ve made a new jacket for you,’ she called. ‘This one won’t break as easily.’ As soon the fish appeared, she flung her net and ensnared him. Can you guess what she and her daughter ate for lunch?”
My throat went tight. “That’s cruel.”
“Yeh Shen had no idea. That very afternoon, she heard crows cawing loudly at the river and rushed to check on her friend, but the fish wasn’t there. Concerned, Yeh Shen searched along the river. Eventually, she ran into an old peddler washing his feet in the water.
“‘Good sir,’ she said, ‘have you seen a golden fish in the river? Its scales are shaped like teardrops, its eyes like two cash coins.’
“‘Indeed I have,’ said the peddler, who was a sage in disguise. ‘That fish is a guardian from heaven. The crows told me he was caught this morning by a woman from the village. Your stepmother. She killed him.’
“Yeh Shen fell to her knees. ‘No,’ she wept bitterly. ‘This is my fault.’
“Cry if you must, but do not despair. His bones carry a magical spirit that watches over you still. If you are ever in need, you may pray to them.’
“Yeh Shen hardly heard the advice. In deep anguish, she hurried home. Sure enough, there was a pile of fish bones on her stepmother’s and stepsister’s plates.
“‘You missed a delectable lunch, Yeh Shen,’ said her stepmother wickedly. ‘Your sister and I enjoyed the most succulent carp; we ate until our bellies were full. Be a good girl and wash these plates clean.’
“With a heavy heart, Yeh Shen mourned her beloved friend. Remembering what the sage had told her, she kept the fish bones safe, though she had nothing to wish for except the fish’s forgiveness.”
It was only a story, yet I pitied Yeh Shen. She was nothing like me, who grumbled about my work but didn’t have the spine to rebel. She was patient and compassionate. She didn’t deserve all her hardships.
“If I had magic fish bones,” I said, “I’d wish for the stepmother and stepsister to be turned into cockroaches. Then I’d set my cat on them.”
Tommy laughed. “Then there’d be no story.”
“I’d be free of them, that’s story enough for me.” We’d reached the top of the hill, and I stopped to pat my sweaty temples with my sleeve.
Grinning, Tommy took out two thermoses from his backpack. “Pick one: I’ve got soymilk and leung cha. Then I’ll tell you a secret.”
I chose the herbal tea. Not my favorite, but my grandmother swore by its healing properties. The drink was warm and did little to quench the heat in my throat.
I wiped my mouth and took another sip. “What’s the secret?”
“Next time choose the soymilk,” replied Tommy. “It’s actually very cooling. The best part is, you don’t have to drink it cold. It’s good warm and hot, too.”
I had to laugh. “You know, I’ve never met anyone more fixated on soymilk.”
He held the thermos high, throwing his shoulders forward in a way that parodied the models on billboards. “Soy is joy,” he uttered with dramatic flair.
I was still laughing. Tommy loved soymilk the way I loved music. If it were up to him, he’d spend all day waxing on about soybean farming and milk production. And, to my surprise, I’d want to listen.
“So what does Yeh Shen wish for?” I asked.
Tommy winked. “I’ll tell you next time.”
“Another half a year from now?”
