often that he thought of the curse but when he did, he invariably felt a pull, sometimes weak, sometimes strong, but never as strong as this. Every nerve tingled. This was the place.
A bright chattering interrupted his thoughts. Young voices cascaded through the village and rice paddies, announcing his arrival. “The storyteller is coming!” Before he knew it, he was surrounded by villagers of all ages.
Chan Tai Keung rushed along with the others, glad of the distraction. Perhaps this would set his uneasy mind at rest. Besides, who knew when the opportunity would come again?
“Tell us, Elder Uncle,” the children clamoured. “Tell us a story.”
The storyteller settled himself beneath a shady tree. “First I need my story bag,” he said. From one of his baskets he took a tattered pouch. He reached in, gathered a handful of yellow sand and flung it high into the air. The grains fell like a sprinkling of gold dust. He caught one grain on the tip of his finger and looked at it for a moment, lost in thought. Then he said,” This is the story that wants to be told.
“2000 years ago, there lived a Mighty Emperor who built the Great Wall of China...”
Keung tried to concentrate on the words but could not. Besides, he knew the story of the Emperor and the Wall. And he knew about the great tomb and the army of warriors built to protect the Emperor after his death.
His mind drifted away from the wrinkled face of the storyteller, far away to Gim Shan, the Land of Gold Mountain across the sea. There he would make his fortune. He would buy enough food for everyone. Never again would the villagers be forced to eat boiled grass or suck on stones to still the pangs of hunger.
The streets of Gold Mountain would be paved with gold. His pockets would be lined with gold dust, bright as the yellow sand scattered at his feet. And he would not return alone, but with his father.
“...dreams turn to dust.” The storyteller’s voice drew him back. “Until the white jade tiger sleeps again.”
The storyteller took a long draw from his pipe and exhaled. In the curling smoke, Keung imagined a fierce tiger leaping through the air.
“Just before Bright Jade entered the tomb,” the storyteller continued, “she clutched the amulet. A mist appeared, wrapped her like a silkworm in a cocoon, and swept her away from the darkness, into the light. Far away to the south, to a land of lush green and sunshine, where she married a hardworking farmer and lived to have many sons and grandsons.”
His eyes twinkled as he scanned the smiling villagers. They knew this story. Since they belonged to the same clan, they shared the same ancestors, all the way back to Bright Jade.
The storyteller lowered his voice. “Bright Jade was not an ordinary woman. She had mysterious powers and seemed to be unaffected by such things as heat or cold, discomfort or pain, almost as if she were a spirit and not a real person. Many believed the village prospered because of her protection, or because of her amulet, the white jade tiger. It was believed this amulet gave her immortality as well as other powers, for Bright Jade lived on and on. But the day finally came when she passed to the other life. And when she was buried, the white jade tiger went with her. Her spirit was at peace and continued to watch over her clan.
“But many years ago, the rains came with a vengeance. The land was flooded with the rising waters of the river. Many graves were disturbed. From one such grave, the white jade tiger was awakened. And lost.”
The storyteller held the villagers with his gaze. “What has become of it? Was it swept away by the river? Buried deep in the mud? Or was it stolen to satisfy a longing for riches?
“Bright Jade is restless. In dreams she appears, calling for it. Through time and space she wanders, searching for it.” The storyteller rested his eyes on Keung. “The clan of Bright Jade will have no peace until the tiger is found.”
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
