Page 15 of Song of the Crimson Flower

“I am cursing you, dear nephew.” The witch’s mouth curved humorlessly. “If it’s magic my sister wants, then it’s magic she will have. This enchantment can only be broken by love,reallove, from someone you love in return. And it must be broken before the full moon in two weeks, or it will be permanent. Listen closely, for this is the last time I ever plan to see you.”

“You’re punishing the wrong person,” he said weakly, his free hand scrabbling for her arm, the vines on the ground, a boulder... anything to keep him from floating into the sky.

“First, you cannot be apart from your flute or you will die,” she said, pushing away his desperate hand. In the darkness, the outline of Bao’s body had become filmy and insubstantial, like fog. “Second, you will lose your form as you’re doing now, and the person you love must bring you back with a touch. But doing this will cost them, and tie them to you and the spell. I can’t imagine your mother would risk herself like that to save you, but we will see, won’t we?”

Bao felt the overpowering urge to close his eyes and go to sleep, but a small voice in his mind told him fiercely to hang on. “Please...”

“The only way to shatter this enchantment is for her to make a declaration of love before the full moon.” The woman bared her teeth. “Easy to do, but she mustmeanit with all of her heart and soul. If she succeeds, it will be the first time my sister has ever loved anyone more than herself. If she doesn’t, well... I hope you really enjoy that flute as much as you seem to.”

Before Bao could say or do anything else, the witch lifted him in her arms in one smooth movement, as though he weighed nothing. She carried him over to the rowboat and laid him inside with his belongings, then bent over the crack with the tree resin, patching up the damage.

Bao tried to lift his head, but as light as he had been a momentbefore, his body now felt heavy and weighed down. The world around him seemed to be expanding—or was he growing smaller? The pulling sensation in his ribs returned with a vengeance and Bao screamed as he shrank and shrank until he had fallen right into one of the holes of the bamboo flute.

“Help me!” he shrieked, but the words came out low and reedy, like the notes played on his instrument. He could no longer flail his limbs, for he had lost them; he had become one with the flute itself. He felt the coarse wood of the boat beneath him, rocking gently in the water, and the hot, damp breeze play over his bamboo skin.

This is another dream, he told himself frantically.I am asleep and dreaming in the boat.Any second now, he would awaken and find himself floating south.

The river witch’s gaunt face hovered over him. “What a pity,” she said, and he felt the vibration of her voice in the wood of the boat. “The first time I’ve seen you since you were a baby, and we couldn’t reunite as nephew and aunt. Goodbye, Bao. I can only hope that your mother has changed, and that she loves you as she has never loved me.”

“Wait! Stop!” Bao wanted to shout, but again his voice came out as low, reedy notes.

The woman closed her eyes and leaned over him, whispering words in a language he did not recognize. And then, with a powerful push, she sent the vessel onto the water and spoke in a soft, solemn voice: “Return from whence you came.” And despite the fact that no one was rowing, the boat began to move at a steady, even pace, drifting away from the riverbank.

The last thing Bao saw of the witch was the infinite sorrow in her eyes.

8

Lan sat by the window, watching the sun drape a red-gold veil over the mountains as it descended. The river bustled with activity as fishermen rowed home with the day’s catch and market vendors ferried empty baskets to be filled again for the next morning. Almost eighteen years had she looked upon these men, women, and children who lived and worked and passed by her home every day, and yet she had never cared to speak to any of them. She had never wondered about their lives or pondered their hardships or sadnesses. As she looked out, she saw a young boatman glide past her window, using a long pole to propel his vessel. The mere sight of him was enough to make her heart pick up and her shame return, though she knew it wasn’t Bao. He clearly was not coming back, and she would never have a chance to apologize.

Sighing, Lan turned away. Her maid was dusting the lacquered surfaces in the room even though they were already clean, and Lan knew Chau was only doing so to keep her company. It was the sort of thingthe girl had done frequently throughout the years, but today it struck Lan that she had always taken the maid’s kindnesses for granted.

“Chau?” Lan asked tentatively, and the other girl looked up. She had a round, friendly face that was quick to smile, and it was one of the reasons Lady Vu had hired her for Lan on the spot. “Are you happy here?”

Chau tilted her head, confused. “Miss?”

“Do you like working here? You can tell me honestly and I won’t be angry.”

“You and Lady Vu have always been kind and fair to me, and I wouldn’t work anywhere else. That’s the honest truth.” Chau’s eyes grew round. “Areyouunhappy withme, miss?”

“Of course not!” Lan said hastily. “I want to keep you with me always.”

“Then why do you ask this, after so many years together?”

Lan fiddled with the hem of herao dai, which today was the color of leaves in summer. “I just wondered,” she said. “It’s been bothering me since... since Bao. I said some horrible things to him, as you know, and I’ve been wondering whether I believe them somewhere deep down.”

“You were heartbroken,” Chau said gently, “and you didn’t mean to take your anger out on him. Anyone with sense would know that, miss. And anyone who knows you knows you have a good heart.”

“Thank you,” Lan whispered, wiping her eyes. She gave a rueful laugh at the pity on the maid’s face. “I have been pathetic, haven’t I?”

Chau shook her head. “I just don’t like to see you sad, that’s all.”

Lan rose and squeezed the other girl’s hand. “This will be over sometime.”

Yesterday, Chau had helped her return all of Tam’s gifts to the Huynhs. Madam Huynh had not been back to visit Lady Vu, but Master Huynh had come the day before, chastened and apologetic, and had shut himself up with Minister Vu for an hour. He had done his best tomake amends, but Lan knew the rift between their families would be irrevocable. According to Master Huynh, Tam had gone to stay with his uncle indefinitely, and Lan had not heard one word from him.Likely because Bao isn’t here to write the notes for him, she thought bitterly, and accepted that it was better this way. She would have burned anything Tam had sent her, anyway.

Later, when faithful Chau had left and Lan was getting ready for bed, she went to close the shutters over her window. For the past two nights, the sight of the empty river had hurt her, and she had found herself closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the boatman’s absence: the Tam she had imagined, and the Bao who had come in reality.You’ll have to get used to it sometime, she chided herself, and looked out at the water as she closed the shutters.

An empty rowboat sat exactly where Bao’s had been all those nights.

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