The First Excellence: Fa-Ling's Map

  THE FIRST EXCELLENCE ~ Fa-ling’s Map

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  FIFTY-FOUR

  FIFTY-FIVE

  FIFTY-SIX

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  FIFTY-NINE

  SIXTY

  SIXTY-ONE

  SIXTY-TWO

  SIXTY-THREE

  SIXTY-FOUR

  SIXTY-FIVE

  SIXTY-SIX

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  SIXTY-NINE

  SEVENTY

  FINAL CHAPTER

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Donna Carrick

  Gold And Fishes

  The Noon God

  Sept-Îles and other places

  Connect with the Author

  THE FIRST EXCELLENCE

  ~

  Fa-ling’s Map

  DONNA CARRICK

  The First Excellence

  ~

  Fa-ling’s Map

  Donna Carrick

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2010 Donna Carrick

  ISBN: 1-4392-5393-5

  ISBN 13: 9781439253939

  LCCN: 2009908176

  Kindle Edition, License Notes:

  This e-book is intended for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be sold or given away to other people. If you did not purchase this e-book, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  CARRICK PUBLISHING

  The First Excellence

  ©Donna Carrick 2009

  Praise for The First Excellence

  Winner of the 2011 Indie Book Event Award for excellence in fiction. .~ The Indie Book Collective, July, 2011

  Top Read for 2010! Donna Carrick has what should be, and hopefully WILL become, a best seller. ~ The Sunday Book Review

  An exquisitely-crafted saga of one person’s search for her roots set against a clash of cultures. An intricate plot that mirrors the subtlety of China itself….~ Jim Napier, The Sherbrooke Record, February 18, 2011, also Deadly Diversions

  …compelling storylines…A complex mystery with multiple plots and a host of intriguing characters. …pleasantly unpredictable… ~ Kirkus Discoveries

  I highly recommend this book, read it, you won’t be disappointed. ~ Barbara Kent, Success Books

  I fell in love with this book from the first two paragraphs. It grabs your attention and doesn’t let go until well after you finish… ~ The Book Journal

  Praise for Gold And Fishes

  Meticulously researched…vivid and heart-wrenching…poignant and evocative…the gripping account of a global disaster…. ~ Jim Napier, The Sherbrooke Record, May 18, 2007, also Deadly Diversions

  Praise for The Noon God

  The Noon God fascinates the reader with the brilliance of its stark choices and the hidden depths of its shadows. ~ Midwest Book Review

  Praise for Sept-Îles and other places

  Haunting and moving stories, an eclectic collection. I devoured every word. ~ Roberta Beach Jacobson, author of Snow Bride

  Other Titles

  The First Excellence ~ Fa-ling’s Map, ©2009/2011

  Gold And Fishes, ©2006/2011

  The Noon God, ©2006/2011

  Sept-Îles and other places, ©2011

  For my husband, Alex, and our three children, Tom, Ted and Tammy-Li “Ming-Hui”. You make every day a pleasure.

  I would also like to dedicate this book to the “lost daughters” of China. May you know the joy of family, wherever you are.

  Yue-liang sings to me.

  All her words are beautiful —

  Tender is the key.

  from Mother Moon, by Li Fa-líng

  ONE

  Spring, 1989….

  Min-xi gripped the edge of the table and forced herself to stand. Another jolt blasted her spine. From the corner of her eye she saw the little one crouching behind a chair. Why didn’t Jong send her outside to play? No one seemed to notice the child, no one except for Min-xi.

  Good Mother came into the room carrying a stack of worn out towels. Jong followed with a full basin. He was almost a foot taller than his mother, but due to a perpetual slouch he possessed only half of the old woman’s presence.

  “She has grown low from the beginning,” Good Mother said. Her voice, never soothing at the best of times, ripped through the humid afternoon with the intensity of a chicken being plucked. Min-xi knew better than to argue with her.

  It was not unusual for Good Mother to refer to her daughter-in-law in the third person, as if her son’s wife were a family dog that had fallen out of favour. She seldom spoke to Min-xi directly, except to offer instructions concerning domestic matters.

  “It will be another girl.” Her words slapped the air.

  Jong placed the basin on the table and put an arm around Min-xi’s waist. He tried to lead her to the bed, but she pushed him away. She would not look at him — had avoided contact for over a month, ever since the decision had been announced one evening at the dinner table.

  Jong’s father was not present for the birth. He would no doubt make himself scarce until the situation was resolved to his satisfaction. Good Mother said her husband was working in the field, but more than likely he was busy tending to a case of watery Beijing beer, his shanty floor littered with bottles.

  As far as Min-xi knew the old man seldom spoke, yet he managed to rule his family in unbending silence. Somehow Good Mother always understood his wishes. She enforced them without mercy.

  “Jong, take this towel,” she said. “Clean up that mess.” She pointed to the floor where Min-xi stood, water trickling down her leg.

  Min-xi reached into a box near the window. She removed a quilt that had been placed there for the purpose. Another contraction caught her off guard, and she almost dropped the blanket. Good Mother took it from her and spread it over the bare mattress, carefully doubling its thickness near the centre.

  Min-xi climbed onto the bed.

  It was an easy labour. The child — another girl as expected — was small. It did not require much effort to push her out.

  Jong wrapped the infant in a clean towel and placed it in a basket on top of the dresser.

  “There will be no name,” Good Mother said. “We have the moon tonight, so we will have to wai
t until tomorrow after dark. If anyone comes this evening, we will say that we are all ill and cannot leave the house.”

  Yes, thought Min-xi, we have the moon. That was as she had planned. When she woke that morning, she excused herself from her chores by telling Good Mother that the baby was too close and she could not walk. In truth, she felt as fit as could be expected in her condition. The birth was yet days away, if the signs of her body could be trusted.

  Min-xi poured herself a bath. Remembering the advice of old Song, her mother’s aunt, she topped it with repeated kettles full of boiling water until it was steaming hot. Then she sat in it for over an hour, drinking castor oil to trigger the contractions.

  She knew Good Mother would not take action on the night of the full moon, when friends and neighbours might be walking outdoors at any hour and the risk of discovery was too high. By inducing her labour to take advantage of the lunar swell, Min-xi had grasped the only feather of hope that floated within her reach. She had stolen one precious night.

  She caught the little one’s eye and held it, willing the girl to understand what they must do. It was pointless. A four-year-old could not be expected to carry the desperation of a grown woman. Min-xi would have to take her chances when the time came.

  Meanwhile, she needed her rest. Without so much as a look at the newborn, she closed her eyes and turned away from her family. Sleep came quickly despite the turmoil in her soul.

  After less than an hour, Min-xi heard the infant stir. She pretended to sleep on. Jong gave the baby a bottle to quiet it. Good Mother made a clucking sound, no doubt scornful of the waste. The old woman put away her sewing and blustered out of the room. There were other tasks to attend to.

  Alone at last with Jong and their children, Min-xi continued to feign sleep. She knew there was nothing to be gained from further discussion. Every appeal had already been denied. The gentle, generous man she had married was changing, his goodness eroding with the constant friction of his mother’s voice.

  **

  Min-xi could not be sure of the time. The moon had cut a wide arc across the sky, settling itself at last behind a cloud. Hours had passed since the last group of young people had made their way down the path to view its ancient beauty.

  Min-xi made only one request of Jong before the family settled in to sleep. She asked him to allow her to spend a night alone with her girls. He could not refuse.

  He gathered up his mat and set it on the floor in the main room. Several times through the early part of the night he rose to check on his wife. Each time she kept her eyes closed, not caring whether he was fooled.

  Finally his steady snores told Min-xi the time had come. Besides, she did not wish to lose the benefit of the momentary darkness. With the moon secured behind a blanket of cloud, it would be nearly impossible to see the path, but she had rehearsed those steps a dozen times.

  Min-xi reached under the bed and pulled out the package that was hidden there. She opened it and removed a bright red infant’s pyjama with a kitten pattern. She quickly cleaned and dressed the baby, rolling the sleeves back to reveal a pair of tiny fists.

  She fastened the newborn into a carrier and strapped it onto her chest. It slept against the warmth of her body.

  Then she tiptoed to the little cot and woke her first daughter. She did not attempt to dress the child. She would do so later, once they were safely away from the house. The bag contained an expensive red silk tunic and pants patterned with a golden dragon for strength, coins for good fortune and turtles for longevity.

  Whoever found her daughters would know from their clothes they had been loved. Between their auspicious red outfits and the fact that they were found on the morning after the moon, no one would doubt they were the bearers of good luck.

  The child had trouble waking. She fussed. Min-xi did her best to quiet her. Her fear must have been apparent, because Ling quickly composed herself. Min-xi guided her to the open window and lifted her over the sill, lowering her to the ground. Then she followed her daughter through the window, struggling to steady the sleeping infant against her chest. Once she was on the ground, she took Ling’s hand and they made their way to the path.

  For a moment, the moon peeked out of its nest to check on what the trio was up to. Then it hid again, leaving Min-xi to escape into the darkness with her girls.

  The walk was long with two small children. Soon the older girl began to whine. Min-xi carried her, but quickly had to put her back down and drag her by the arm.

  The bicycle was where she’d left it. Min-xi strapped the girl into the child seat and climbed on. She had only gone a few feet when it became clear that riding a bike after childbirth with an infant strapped to her chest was going to be difficult.

  Once they left the path, though, and got onto the main road, the ride was easier. The movement of her thighs brought punishment to her groin and lower back. She felt warm moisture spreading between her legs. It was probably blood, or some remnants of after-birth.

  By the time they arrived at the river the moon had emerged fully for an encore appearance. Min-xi dismounted and pushed the bicycle up the steep grade to the top of the cliff where tourists came to view the narrow pass below. The water shimmered, whispering like a friend in a new dress. She lifted her eldest daughter from the bicycle.

  The girl’s eyes were wide as she studied the Li River, named for its infinite beauty. Min-xi did not dare to look upon its surface. She led her daughter away to a public bench.

  “Ling,” she said, kneeling in front of the child, “you must listen to me.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Do not go back, no matter what. Stay here with the baby. Try not to make any noise. The sun will rise before long. In the morning this place will be busy and someone will find you.

  “Take care of your sister. There are three bottles and two diapers in this bag.” She opened the package so her daughter could look. “There are some moon cakes for you. Don’t give any cake to baby. She will choke on it. When she cries, just give her a bottle. You have to hold it for her, like this.”

  “Don’t leave us, Mother.”

  “Look. I bought you a new outfit. Let’s see if it fits.” She tugged the frayed nightgown from her daughter’s body and threw it into a nearby trash bin. Quickly she dressed the girl in the red outfit and brushed her hair until it shimmered like the river below.

  “Hold baby like this. Do not move until someone finds you in the morning. Do not tell anyone your name. Do you understand?”

  “I need to pee.”

  “Go now.” Min-xi waited while the girl peed on the grass. When she was finished, she straightened her daughter’s tunic and smoothed it over the pants.

  “What about Ba-ba?” the child asked.

  “Your father cannot help,” Min-xi said. “If you go home, Good Mother will kill both of you.” She hadn’t intended to blurt it out like that, but she was glad she did. The child needed to understand the danger she was in.

  More likely, Good Mother would see to it that Jong killed the children, but such a naked truth was too harsh for a little girl. It was better she should see Good Mother as the monster she was, and retain some acceptable memories of her father.

  “Stay with us, Mother.”

  “I have to go home. If I’m not there in the morning, Good Mother will come searching for us. I am going to tell her you fell into the river. Then she won’t look for you.”

  The child sat still on the bench, her lip quivering and tears forming in her eyes. Min-xi knew leaving was not going to get any easier.

  “Remember, don’t move from this spot. When you are found, you must say your mother died making the baby, and your father left you both here.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “Good-bye, Ling. Take care of your sister. I am counting on you.” Min-xi kissed her daughter quickly on the forehead and held her face for a moment. “You have been a good daughter.” Then she patted the sleeping infant on the head and turned away before her coura
ge failed her.

  The girl sat motionless on the bench with the baby balanced clumsily on her lap. Her eyes were wide with fright. She knew it was her fault. For as long as she could remember, she had been aware of the shame that burned her face, and now it had come to this. Why did she have to be a girl?

  The moon smiled down with cheerful disregard for her suffering. From that moment she would never again be able to look upon its light without resurrecting the dull ache of being outcast.

  Min-xi mounted the bicycle. Her tears fell with the sensation of her daughter’s eyes on her back. As soon as she was out of the girl’s sight, she ditched the bike in a jungle thicket and doubled back toward the cliff edge, scanning the darkness for the metal railing that protected tourists from plummeting to their deaths.

  Min-xi stood for a long moment, her hands gripping the rail. Even now her courage might flee. Even now, she might hurry back to the girls.

  She turned her face toward the moon, praying for strength.

  It was surprisingly easy to climb over the rail. She hardly felt the residual pain of childbirth between her legs.

  Once she was on the other side, only one small step remained.…

  TWO

  Summer, 2007.…

  Fa-líng stared at the passenger window. Her journal lay open on the tray in front of her. An inky line revealed where her thoughts had trailed off into the realm of the unexpressed.

  She shook her head, trying to clear the fog behind her eyes.

  “Almost there,” she wrote. She removed a small folded map from the pocket of her jacket. She studied it one more time, running her finger down the winding line of the Li River before tucking it into the cover of her book.

  She stood and looked around, trying to place as many of her group as possible. Near the front of the section were Eloise and Joseph Golluck. They were the oldest couple, in their late forties.

  Not far from the Gollucks were Caroline and Harold Kitchener. He was a surgeon, but Fa-ling wasn’t sure what his speciality was. With the steady demands of their two little girls, the Kitchener adults seemed incapable of making normal conversation.