times of war, it grew in crazy profusion, until it was said that Bluegrass Ravine flourished because of its special grass, gradually evolving into Blue Cloud Prefecture’s most prosperous market town. As she made her way along the road, Binu met many women and children carrying blue baskets, and she assumed that they too were travelling north. ‘What would we go north to do?’ they asked her. ‘It would be suicidal. No, we are on our way to Bluegrass Ravine to gather grass. Ten baskets of it can be sold for one sabre coin.’
Binu looked around her and noticed a blue aura over the mountains; in the sunlight the blue grass was, truly, blue. The shabbily dressed grass-gatherers spread out and followed the stream, looking for thickets of grass, then eventually came together and, even though Binu was at the base of the mountain, she could see them up on the mountain fighting over clumps of grass. From a distance, the glowing fury of people scrambling on the mountain reminded her of wild animals fighting over food.
‘Are you here to gather grass too? If so, why are you carrying a bundle on your head? And where are your basket and your scythe?’ It was a donkey-cart driver in a green, turban-like headdress, a man of indeterminate age, with a bushy beard and unkempt sideburns. The look in his eyes was an uncanny mixture of evil and warmth.
‘No, I’m not. I was told that there are donkey carts in Bluegrass Ravine that can take me north,’ Binu said. ‘Elder Brother, will you take your donkey cart up north?’
‘To do what? Commit suicide?’ the carter replied, cruelly. He seemed to cradle his hands, as if cold, and raised a bare foot. He studied the bundle on Binu’s head out of the corner of his eye, trying to imagine what it contained. Then, without warning, he kicked Binu and demanded, ‘What’s in the bundle? Open it up and let me see!’
‘Why do you want to inspect it?’ Binu asked as she lifted the bundle down. ‘You see,’ she added as she carelessly undid the wrapping, ‘it’s nothing. It may look impressive, but it isn’t worth much: just a winter coat for my man, and a frog.’
‘Did you say a frog? You’re carrying a frog in that bundle?’ The carter was flabbergasted. His eyes lit up like a lantern, and he started to go through the contents. ‘A frog, you say, well I’ll have to see about that. Are you from Huangdian? Those people take a rooster with them everywhere they go, to lead the way. But a frog? How can a frog lead the way if you hide it in your bundle?’
‘I am not from Huangdian, Elder Brother. I live in Peach Village, on the other side of the mountain. My frog is blind and cannot lead me anywhere. I must lead it.’
‘How can you say you’re not from Huangdian? Your accent gives you away. You people are too sly to carry a bundle that is worth nothing. There must be a ghost in it.’
Binu did not know how to prove that she was from Peach Village, but proving the innocence of her bundle was easy. Looking slightly offended, she shook it. ‘Come out here, frog, let our Elder Brother have a look at you. A ghost in my bundle? Never! A frog has nothing to be ashamed of. I’m not carrying any salt, they wouldn’t let me. And I don’t have a knife, you can’t carry a knife in a bundle.’ Binu urged the frog to hop out and show itself, but it was curled up inside Qiliang’s sandal, having got used to the warmth and darkness there, and refused to come out. A cowardly frog, it had been frightened all along the way, and now it was petrified. Binu explained the situation to the carter as she held the sandal out for him to see. ‘I’m telling you the truth, Elder Brother, there’s a frog in there. What crime have I committed by taking a frog to Great Swallow Mountain?’
‘Whether or not you have committed a crime is not for you to say. Your strange, furtive manner proves that you are from Huangdian! I’m telling you, the King has already arrived in Pingyang Prefecture, where people from Huangdian, and snakes, are to be eradicated!’
‘I am not from Huangdian; I live in Peach Village. And this frog is not a snake. Please, look inside this sandal, and you’ll see it’s a frog, not a snake.’
‘So you refuse to admit that you’re from Huangdian. The people of Huangdian have rebelled against the court for thirty years. Men and women alike have ventured forth as assassins and bandits. Who but a woman from Huangdian would travel from place to place alone, and who would hide a frog in a sandal? It is probably a dangerous frog, maybe a snake reborn in disguise! I’m telling you for your own good, if you travel beyond Blue Cloud Pass and reach Pingyang Prefecture, you’ll see what’s waiting for you. Snakes are the King’s greatest fear. No matter how you raise them, they’ll still bite you. And people from Huangdian are the King’s mortal enemies. No matter how you deal with them, they will never submit. They are born with one thought: to assassinate the King. Let me remind you that all the grass in every town and village of Lulin Prefecture was burned, over and over, until every last snake egg was fried to a crisp. Anyone from Huangdian, young or old, is to be arrested and burned alive!’
That terrified Binu. She was not from Huangdian – which was on the other side of North Mountain – but she was frightened nonetheless. Her mind in turmoil, she clutched her bundle and walked to a roadside stand where straw baskets were for sale. People were staring at her bundle, so, with rising indignation, she showed them Qiliang’s sandal. ‘Everyone take a look. Is this a frog or is it a snake? Of course it’s a frog, but he says it’s a snake reborn as a frog.’ Their curiosity roused, people gathered round to inspect the frog and try to guess where Binu had come from.
‘Carrying a frog or carrying a snake, what’s the difference?’ one of them said. ‘If this woman isn’t a sorceress, she’s a madwoman!’
In the prosperous town of Bluegrass Ravine, Binu discovered how it felt to be alone and forsaken. She did not know how to lie, yet the people refused to believe her. When she related her sad story, they doubted her from the very beginning. She told them she was from Peach Village, not Huangdian, that the two places were separated by a mountain, and that her accent was nothing like people from Huangdian. But the people in Bluegrass Ravine had no way of differentiating between the two accents, so they asked her, ‘The people of Peach Village, are they assassins, too?’
Binu told them she was the wife of Wan Qiliang. ‘Have any of you ladies and gentlemen seen my Qiliang?’
They laughed. ‘No one here knows your Wan Qiliang.’
‘Who is this Wan Qiliang?’ someone asked. ‘Does he have his name tattooed on his forehead?’ They told her that hundreds of thousands of workers were building the Great Wall, so who could possibly know anyone named Wan Qiliang?
Many of the people showed unusual interest in the bundle on her head, reaching out with dirty hands to grab hold of Qiliang’s winter coat. ‘Do you mean to say you’re travelling all the way to Great Swallow Mountain just to give this to your husband?’
‘Yes,’ Binu replied, ‘I’m taking him winter clothing. What else can I do? When my Qiliang was dragged off he wasn’t even wearing a shirt.’
It was a simple statement of fact, but the people treated it as the ravings of a madwoman or a dreamlike fantasy. Binu decided not to talk any more.
‘You people won’t believe anything I say, so I’m better off not saying anything,’ she muttered to herself as she painstakingly rewrapped her bundle. ‘If I pretend I’m a mute, you won’t think I’m crazy,’ she said to the old man selling the straw baskets. ‘All I have to do to make you believe me is lie.’
Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, the carter snorted and said, ‘Telling lies is hard for a woman like you. Not saying anything is even harder.’
Binu had the feeling that this old man knew what was in her heart, but
