Mandarin Mannequins of Chinatown. Patricia Laurel

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      The first man she hated was her father.

      When Bao Yu was a little girl back in China, he sold her to the village shaman. There were too many mouths to feed, and she was the only girl among five siblings. The boys would be useful later on, but as her father said, food and clothing were wasted on her.

      “You are wasted space,” her father lamented. “Ah, Bao Yu! If only you had been a boy. You are crafty and certainly more intelligent than your brothers!”

      “Papa, I can help my stupid brothers do their chores and teach them how to earn a living. I swear I’m good at it,” the 10-year old girl said, fighting for her right to stay.

      Standing by the doorway of their hut, Bao Yu watched anxiously as her mother packed her meager belongings. She begged and pleaded with her parents, but they would not listen.

      “You’ll be better off with the old man. He can teach you chants and spells. Maybe one day you will take his place in the village,” her mother said, not looking at her, afraid she might relent and beg her husband to keep her only daughter.

      Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes, hoping to touch her mother’s heart, but the woman turned away and walked into the kitchen.

      Her father dragged her kicking and screaming through the small village, and dropped her like a sack of rice on the front steps of the old shaman's house.

      She began her life of servitude with no hope of escape. Although she harbored a begrudging respect for him and coveted the shaman’s magic power; he was another man to hate. Bao Yu was mistreated and abused; she washed and cooked for the old man, and her bed was a thin mat on the dirt floor of the kitchen. Her life was harder than a household servant who might have some niggling privileges. But in return, he taught her well.

      She learned a great deal from the shaman. Not only the traditional way of healing people and casting spells for a good harvest, but also the secrets and knowledge from the ancient book he so carefully guarded. Bao Yu realized early on the old man’s main source of power despite repeatedly having her ears boxed.

      Everything changed when she blossomed into a beautiful and stunning young woman. The shaman, now a doddering old fool, was enchanted with her. He promised her the moon, if he could only conjure it. She settled for his knowledge and magical arts and access to the book. Her chores ceased immediately. A young girl was hired to do all the menial labor around the house.

      Bao Yu took over all the old man's duties. She collected and controlled his money. Her former teacher was pitifully grateful for any attention she gave him. She became well known and respected. She had it all — except for one thing. Despite their cruelty, she wanted to win her family's affection. She began to support them, hoping to buy their love.

      Her father and brothers eagerly took everything she offered with no gratitude or appreciation. They took her for granted, and so did her mother who still slaved for them. The love she sought was not reciprocated. They only asked for more.

      Seething with rage, she gave them an ultimatum. Take her back as the daughter and sister she was meant to be, or suffer the consequences. They laughed at her. She hatched her plan.

      First, she cast a spell on her family. Bao Yu stood in front of their house in an elegant red, yellow and blue silk gown, clapping her hands, dancing, skipping about like a beautiful bird, her long rope of black hair flying, shining in the sun.

      “May you all wallow in dirt and eat food scraps for the rest of your lives,” she said, sealing the spell with the wave of her hand. She could have done worse, but deep inside a flicker of yearning to belong still remained.

      Next was the old shaman asleep in his bed, dreaming of a life together with Bao Yu and blissfully unaware of his fate. She silently crept to where he slept, and with a pair of scissors cut off his main source of power. Then she carefully slipped the treasured book out from under his bed.

      She placed the shaman’s power in a small ivory case and put it in a burlap bag along with the book. Now she could transfer his power to her, but that would take some time.

      “Come, Mei Li! Pack your things,” she said.

      “Where are we going mistress?” The servant asked fearfully, looking at the shaman who seemed to have shriveled up. His loose skin hung on his bones like wrinkled curtain.

      “We’re going to a big city far away from this pig-stinking village. I will need time to perfect my skills, and you will be my assistant. You would like that, Mei Li?” It was more of a statement than a question.

      They traveled in disguise by darkness through swamps and forests. Sometimes they ventured out onto a lonely highway and a passing truck picked them up.

      But her powers were running dry, and it took everything she could muster for two people to cross the border undetected. Exhausted, they walked the rest of the way, heads bowed to the ground, too weary to notice their surroundings.

      At last the two women stumbled upon a place with a sign indicating it was a nature reserve for birds. At least they could hide here for the time being. They immediately fell into a deep sleep, completely spent.

      An urgent tapping on her shoulder woke Bao Yu from her fitful sleep. She sat up to find herself on a bed of reeds next to a river surrounded by mangrove trees. A loud chorus of fluttering wings, the cries and calls of cranes, egrets, terns and gulls assaulted her ears. Where were they?

      “Mistress! Please wake up. Look!” Still groggy from sleep, she looked to where Mei Li pointed.

      Before her lay her future. She felt she could reach out and touch it — the New Territories! All the aches and pains were forgotten, and replaced by the rapid beating of her heart filled with joy and relief.

      Mei Li stood up from her crouched position to have a better look. Their hiding place СКАЧАТЬ