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finally withers.
    The Life Seeker stopped singing and sashayed back to her audience. The men thumped the table with their fists in approval and lifted their wine cups in salute. One man pulled her into his lap, nuzzling her neck, then holding out a string of gold coins. The seductress took the gift and whispered in his ear. Blue tongue flicking, her eyes locked with Ai Ling’s for one brief moment. Ai Ling wrenched her gaze away, both enthralled and embarrassed.
    The man turned his head, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Master Huang! Ai Ling twisted so her back was to him. With an unsteady hand, she fished a silver coin from her satin pouch and put it on the table. She weaved her way through the crowd of diners, her chin tucked, stumbling once over her own feet. She slipped through the carved double doors and nearly slammed into someone.
    “Hello, pretty. Where are you rushing off to?” A man blocked the way. He was squat, with broad shoulders and 34

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    powerful arms. He leered up at her, a gaping hole where one front tooth should have been. She could smell the liquor on his breath.
    “It isn’t safe for pretty ladies like yourself to travel alone, you know. You need a friend with you. A friend like me.”
    The man wiggled his unkempt eyebrows, his face twisted in a lewd sneer.
    Ai Ling tried to keep her features blank. “I do have friends, sir. They are inside. I stepped out for some fresh air.” She smiled and hoped her lie was convincing.
    “Is that so? I better stay and guard you until they come out.”
    He squinted at her. “Why don’t we take a nice stroll while we wait? Are you from up north? So tall and pretty . . .”
    The man reached out one filthy hand, making a grab at her wrist.
    Such a tasty morsel.
    She heard him. But he hadn’t spoken aloud. Ai Ling stumbled back, her stomach seizing as if she’d been kicked.
    Warmth flared at her breast, and she looked down—the jade pendant glowed so bright it appeared white.
    The man lurched toward her, but stopped to slap his neck.
    He grimaced in surprise. She heard an insistent buzzing. A large insect hovered between their faces.
    “Curse of a rabid—oww!” More wasps appeared from the eaves above, fl ying straight toward him.
    Flailing his arms about his head in panic, he ran into the restaurant, leaving Ai Ling wide-eyed, standing alone in the 35

    Cindy Pon
    alleyway. Then she bolted toward the main street, one hand clutching the pendant, hot against her skin.
    Ai Ling spent her second night in a shed. Two pigs and a few chickens kept her company, their scratching and snuffling noises comforting her. She removed her shoes and winced from the blisters on her toes. Her hand searched for the jade pendant in the dark, and she ran a fingertip over its ridges.
    It had burned bright, sent the wasps to her attacker. She couldn’t have imagined it. Had the monk blessed it before giving it to Father? She closed her eyes and saw her father’s face. She wrapped her arms around herself and fell asleep with her back pressed against the pigpen.
    The crowing of a rooster startled her awake. She had not seen the creature last night, his chest puffed out now as he strutted among his hens. Light filtered through the cracks of the wooden shed.
    She rummaged through her knapsack and retrieved a slice of dried mango and two salted biscuits. Everything tasted stale. Her empty stomach rumbled. But all she could do was fi ll it with the last swallows of water from her fl ask.
    She eased the shed door open. The morning air rejuve-nated her as she scanned the horizon. The rays of the sun were just beginning to wash the skyline. She reeked of farm animals and damp hay. Ai Ling scratched her itching scalp and wished for a mirror, then decided it was probably better she didn’t have one.
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    She found a well on the other side of the shed and cranked up the heavy wooden pail with stiff arms. The water was biting and cold.