When the Sea Turned to Silver Page 29

“He did,” Pinmei said. “He had to. When his father turned into a tiger, the first king couldn’t let him stay in the city. He was too dangerous. So his father was exiled.”

“So it was as a tiger that he was exiled?” Yishan said, scratching his head and looking up as if trying to read a lost memory in the night sky. “I guess that would make sense…”

“If you believe the story, that is,” the king interjected. “There are many parts I find doubtful.”

“But what does this have to do with the Paper?” Pinmei asked. “The Paper turned the first king’s father into a tiger, but that was long before the Paper was given away. How can you have it now?”

“It was my father, the former king of the City of Bright Moonlight, who gave the Paper away over sixty years ago,” the king said. “After he abdicated and became quite old, he returned to the palace with the Paper and a strange story.”

Pinmei looked at Yishan, but he did not meet her eyes. Instead, he was gazing upward. Another star was flying across the sky, making a silver scratch on the black-lacquered night. Pinmei frowned and turned back to the king.

“Does it have something to do with the Green Tiger?” she asked.

“Yes,” the king said. “I suppose it could be considered a new part of the Green Tiger story.”

“A new part of the Story of the Green Tiger?” Pinmei repeated, giving Yishan a sharp nudge. He glanced at her apologetically. “I didn’t know there was a new part. Please, Your Majesty. I would like to hear the story.”

 

 

My father, in his old age, had taken to traveling in disguise to enjoy the pleasures of common life. One night, on one of his trips, he decided to go for a night walk and found himself by a lake so large and black he could not tell where the water ended and the sky began. In fact, he would not have even known it was a lake at all if it wasn’t for the giant moon reflected in the water.

It was a beautiful sight, and he sat down to admire it. As he rested, he began to hear a strange sound.

A loud splashing echoed in the air, and a giant beast burst from the lake as if ripping through a paper moon. The beast crawled out of the lake, and when it reached the shore, it panted and gasped, exhausted. My father said he had never seen a more wretched creature.

“A hard journey, was it not?” a voice said. There was an old man speaking to the beast. He was a man with a long gray beard who my father insisted came from nowhere. “He just appeared,” my father said.

The miserable beast did nothing but give a low, pitiful moan.

“Do you wonder why I am here?” the old man said. “Or why you were finally able to free yourself from your prison of the well to this lake?”

The beast finally raised his head, and my father gasped. It was a tiger!

“Your son did a great service for us,” the man said, waving his hand toward the moon. “And his dying wish was to have you return. It is only now, after you have reached your fifth Year of the Tiger without creating harm, that we can fulfill his wish.”

My father watched, mesmerized, as the old man took a paper out of his sleeve. He dipped it in the water and bent over the trembling tiger.

“I fear I will regret this,” the man said. “You do not seem to learn from your past mistakes.”

And with that, he placed the wet paper on the animal’s face. The tiger shuddered, and my father watched as the old man stood up and turned toward the water. Strangely, as the old man stepped onto the lake, he did not sink but walked straight onto the path of moonlight reflected on the water.

When my father looked back at the tiger, the beast was reaching for the paper on his face… but the beast’s claws had transformed into fingers! And when the paper was finally peeled off, the tiger was a man!

The man who had been a beast stood, stared at the departing figure walking toward the moon, and then dropped the paper as if it were diseased. The paper floated in the air like a white butterfly and landed in my father’s lap. The man saw my father holding the paper and gave an inhuman roar and leaped in the opposite direction. “He ran on his hands and feet, as if he were still an animal,” my father said. “I knew who he was and what he had been. He had been the Green Tiger.”

 

“The Green Tiger!” Pinmei gasped. “The first king’s father turned back into a man? He could be the emperor!”

“No, no,” the king said. “That’s impossible. How could the first king’s father, be him man or beast, be alive for so long? The first king was generations before even my own father’s time. For the first king’s father to be alive, he would have to be an immortal, and we all know the emperor is not an immortal.”

“At least, not yet,” Yishan added darkly. He was no longer distracted by the sky and was, instead, staring intensely at the king.

“Then your father’s story…” Pinmei began.

“My father was very old and often mixed dreams with reality,” the king said. “Once he dreamed he was a butterfly, and when he awoke, he thought he was a butterfly dreaming he was man. There’s no doubt this story was confused as well.”

“But the Paper,” Pinmei insisted. “You have the Paper.”

“Part of his story was probably true,” the king agreed, “for it is the Paper of Answers. I spent many long years learning how to read it.”

“And now you use that knowledge to help the emperor?” Yishan said, and the anger in his tone surprised Pinmei. “Even if the emperor is not the Green Tiger, he is just as bad! He’s using whatever you tell him to gain more power, kill more people, and now live forever! How dare you use the Paper for him?”

“What would you have me do?” the king said. “I am a prisoner in my own palace, and spies surround me. How could I do anything else?”

Yishan glared and the king looked back defiantly, almost as if he were the small child and Yishan the adult. The wind whined, its cold breath freezing them into two scowling statues. Stroking Amah’s bracelet desperately, Pinmei glanced from one to the other. The smooth jade soothed her cold-cracked fingers, and she was surprised when she heard her own voice speaking.

“Your Majesty,” Pinmei said, her quiet words loud in the silence, “I did not finish my story. May I tell you the end?”

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