Keung trudged towards the mountain looming in his dream. In the shadow of the mountain a tall, slender girl appeared, braiding her long black hair. Although he could not see her face clearly, he sensed that she was smiling. Encouraged, he quickened his pace. “Embrace the mountain,” she was saying. “Return the white jade tiger.” Keung frowned, puzzled. What did she mean?
A cold wind slashed his face. It scattered the girl’s words and swept her straight into the mountain. “Wait,” he cried, stumbling after her. Then he was falling, falling over rocks and gravel, in a headlong rush to the muddy river below.
“Aiee!” he screamed as he hit the water. He struggled to remain above the surface, but the whirling eddies sucked him down. Another scream woke him and he sat up gasping for air, his thoughts spinning. The land must be Gold Mountain. But who was the girl? Bright Jade? Of course! Her spirit had found the tiger and was urging him to bring it home.
But how did it get to Gold Mountain? And how would he ever find it?
Keung wore a brave face next morning, hoping it would hide his nervousness.
“It is cold across the sea,” his mother said as she helped pack his bag. “You must take warm clothing and shoes with thick soles.” She handed him some packages. “Special herbs, in case you get sick They will not have such good medicines in Gim Shan.”
Keung felt a prickling behind his eyes, but knew it was bad luck to cry. Carefully, he tucked the packages inside his cotton bag.
“And take the letter. It may help you find your father more quickly.”
Keung took the worn envelope and remembered how eagerly he and his mother had rushed to the nearest town to have it read. She had made the letter-writer read it over and over so that every word would stay fixed in her mind. Three long years ago.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” he said. “I’ll find Father and we’ll be home before you know it.”
Keung was not the only one leaving the district, although at fifteen he was the youngest. They all put on smiling faces and chattered about the land they would buy when they returned. But their hearts lurched painfully, knowing they were leaving their families to untold hardships. The crop was a poor one, even worse than the one before. Almost every family would have to borrow from the money-lender to pay the landlord. Only those receiving money from relatives in Gim Shan would be free from debt.
Like the others, Keung had heard stories about the opportunities in Gim Shan.Railroad workers made a fortune! After five years or so, enough money could be made to return and live comfortably for a lifetime.
These thoughts clattered through his mind like the clacking of buttons in a game of fan-tan. But like fan-tan it was a gamble. Keung couldn’t help but worry. His travelling companions had signed a contract to work on the new railroad; he alone was staying in the Big Port called Victoria, where his father had last been heard from. And now, not only must he find his father, but also a jade tiger, small enough to hold in the palm of his hand.
He thought about the curse as he strode along with the others. Drought, floods, famine, wars—those things could not be blamed on one amulet, surely. The whole district was affected by such disasters. But within his own family.... Three younger sisters had died as babies. His brother had drowned in the river, leaving Keung the only son. Two uncles killed by bandits—why, every family in his clan had suffered some misfortune or other. And now his father, lost in the Land of Gold Mountain.
He walked a little taller as he realized how important he would feel, once the tiger was returned to its proper place. Then, quickly, he pushed the thought from his mind. The gods must not think him too bold. It would not be wise to anger them before he even reached Gold Mountain.
Chapter 5
For the first time in her life, Jasmine hated every second of the forty-five minute drive to Victoria. She maintained a stony silence, nurturing the hostility she felt towards her father. For awhile he rambled on about China, and how they could explore it together when she flew out next month— but only if she wanted to, he added hastily. Then he switched to questions: had she packed everything, had she remembered the pieces for her quilt, was there anything she needed, anything she wanted.... She continued to ignore him. Finally he stopped talking and turned on the radio. For once, Jasmine didn’t complain about his choice of stations.
Along the winding road, past the rush-hour traffic inching its way through the suburbs, onto the highway. Past service stations, car lots, sprawling shopping centres. Flashing lights, howling sirens, screeching brakes. Jasmine winced. Why had she ever wanted to take the bus into Victoria? ’Cause it would have been fun, her inner voice said. Fun, with her friends. Not like now. Not like getting dumped by her father.
“Do you want to do any shopping?” he asked. “We could stop at a mall.”
Silence.
“Well, we are stopping for supper. Any requests? The sky’s the limit.”
Jasmine shrugged. When he pulled into her favourite fast-food restaurant she refused to show the slightest interest.
“What? No cheeseburger? Milkshake? You’ve got to eat something.”
She shook her head, and picked at the fries and onion rings.
After supper they crept along Douglas Street, crowded with pedestrians and traffic. People swept in and out of stores and restaurants, hurrying to finish their shopping, hurrying to grab a bite before heading home, hurrying to rent a video for the evening.
“Thought we’d go through Chinatown,” her father said, “since you’re going there tomorrow.”
An Oriental gate arched across Fisgard Street, shining an invitation to enter. As they drove down the block Jasmine felt her pulse quicken, stirred by the lights, colour, movement and sound. But she remained silent.
Then they were crossing the Johnson Street Bridge, the lift bridge that was raised like a drawbridge whenever boats passed through the Inner Harbour. Her father made his usual remark about its odd shade of blue but Jasmine did not respond. Finally, they were turning into the parking lot of Val’s condominium. “Straight up to the ninth floor,” he said.
“My lucky number,” Jasmine muttered. “Some luck.”
They stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hallway to 927. “The door number even adds up to nine,” her father said cheerfully. “Eighteen, actually, but add those two digits and you get nine. What do you think of that!”
Val was waiting at the door. “Hi, Martin,” she said, giving him a hug. “Come on in. And Jasmine! Welcome to the double lucky condo. Pretty auspicious, don’t you think?”
“Auspicious?” Great. She couldn’t even understand her aunt’s language.
“Favourable. A good omen. Nine’s my lucky number, you see. And you were born in 1976, weren’t you? The Year of the Dragon, a very lucky sign. But I could babble on and on about auspicious symbols. Martin, how about some coffee?” The whole time she was talking, Val was bustling about the kitchen, setting up the coffee maker, slicing Nanaimo bars, arranging butter tarts on plates. “Jasmine, you probably feel a bit strange about being here, so why don’t I show you your room and you can get settled.” She caught her eyeing the Nanaimo bars and laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll save you some.”
Jasmine followed her down the hall. “Here you are. Fill up the drawers and closet with your things. Read any of the books you want. Enjoy the view.”
“Wow!” The exclamation slipped out, in spite of her vow to be miserable. “So many lights!”
The scene was magical, so different from home where there wasn’t even a streetlight. Across the Inner Harbour, the Legislative Buildings shimmered