Spring pearl

CHAPTER ONE: THE LOST GARDEN

"Miss," the boy said, "we should be going."

"Just one more moment please," I said.

he Probably couldn't understand why anyone would want to stay longer.

Is that instant,i saw my home through his eyes.i had let things become shabby while mother had been sick. The paper on the windows has become tattered and the bamboo walls were badly in need of repair.

There was dust everywhere. the few sticks of furniture were pieces no one had wanted to buy. The table and the chairs were old and battered,with wobbly legs. yet on my mind's eye, I could see mother sitting in one while sewed.

I could see father in another, staring off into space before he began painting furiously.and I was there with them,balanced on a stool,trying not to fall off while I did my lessons.

In the corner the straw mat,and I looked away quickly. Mother had breathed her last there. The landlord had been quite upset when he found out she had died inside.

He would have reduce the rent to attract new tenants who might think my mothers ghost was hunting our cottage. even if that was true, her gentle soul would never harm anyone.

I ran my hand over my jacket. it had been one of the last things mother had made. The silk had been a gift from father friends,Master Sung. I smoothed it over my sides,feeling the cool lightness.

Mother had sewn camellias which were her favorites flowers almost smell the scent. when I touched my jacket, I felt her love surround me, keeping me safe from harm.

"Please,Miss, I have other chores," the boy begged. He looked several years older than me, with a pleasant round face and small eyes.

"Yes,of course." I started to reach for my basket. The boy smile "I'll take that,Miss. it'd be worth my hide if anyone saw you doing my work."

I pulled my hand back.

"Your arms are already full."

"All I Ned is that bamboo pole outside," the boy suddenly said and I suddenly grinned. He had my measure by now. "you never had servants, Miss?" I shook my head. "we did everything ourselves." Guiltily, I thought that if Mother had had more help than just me, she might still be alive.

Setting down the other basket, he disappeared thorough the doorway and come back and moment later with a pole two meter long. "I think I saw some rope lying around.

"Yes,it's right here." Wanting to be helpful, I bent over for the coil of old cord by my foot and started to pick it up

The boy held up his hand. "wait,miss."

I paused in med-bend. "That's silly.it's right here."

"You're well spoken ,miss in fact, better than the ladies of our household," the boy said.

"And your manners are certainly better. but if I may be so bold, I have to tell you there's more to being a lady than speech and polite ways.A lady should never do her own lifting"

"But" I began He snatched up the cord before I could get it.

"As my granny says, 'Does a bird tell a fish how to swim?" Master sings household will be a lot different than your old home here.

"But I'm not helpless," I said annoyed. He dipped his head respectfully. "I can see that,Miss But if act like a servant,then the sungs"ll treat you like one.

Proudly,i repeated what I had told masters sung. "I intend to earn my keep." The boy laugh,just as master sung had.

'Oh, the sungs"ll see that you do." he paused and added, "I know it's not my place to say, but you're moving in with the sharks."

It was my turn to laugh m. "Master sung is not a shark! and he has told me about his children;they sounded quite human to me."

He nodded to the basket I had filling with books." I can't see you're a learned person. you must have read how look aren't everything. The sweetest little old auntie could be a tiger in disguise."

I fold my arms. "I've read the folktales." The boys was quick to pick up on my doubts. "as my granny says, 'every tree start out as a seed.' and it doesn't matter how much make-believe there is now, it had to begin with a bit of truth."

"Well,ill be careful," I said trying not to smile in amusement "thank you for the warning."

"I may not be able to read or write,but I'm a regular professor when it come to surviving the sungs." The boy !measured out the cord quickly against his forearm and then set it at a selected spot in bus teeth.The cord though old,was thick. " I think I have some scissors in one of my baskets," I offered

To my amazement, the boy bit the cord clean thorough. clicking his teeth,he grinned. "you've have two types of teeth:strong or gone."

With the efficiency that came of practice, the boy tied a basket to wait her end of the pole. "and what is your name?" I asked.

I answer to "doggy,Miss,' the boy said. squatting,he set the pole over his shoulder.When he straightened , the pole bowed in the middle but did not break.

"My name is Chou spring pearl," I said. He dipped his head respectfully toward the doorway.

"Miss pearl. If u please?" As I crossed the threshold, sadness squeezed my insides so much that I almost gasped.

"Don't look back,Miss," Doggy whispered. "never look back."

I took a ragged breath. "yes, you right." However, it hurt almost as much to step outside into our little garden.

Mother had been so proud of it. The three of us had spent many sunny afternoon painting and studying and sewing there.

After a rain, it had always smelled so fresh.The plants and flower there had given me so many happy memories that they were like cousin.

I looked over at the spot where father had died a year ago. some white jasmine was still blooming on the bamboo fence. when mother had been to tend it,it had been a wall of white, and we had used the flower in tea.Now old vines chocked the new growth like tangles of cord,and leaves littered the ground beneath.

There were even any birds to bid me farewell during the many recent rebellions and wars, the city's poor folk had trapped and eaten all of them.

Weeds had taken over, and only a few flowers, like the fragrant plumeria,still battled for space and life.

I began to feel an anchor inside,as if I were mourning my parents again. perhaps I couldn't save all is the flower here,but I was determined to save something.

Anxiously,i waded through the knee high weeds,hunting for the camellias. My parents has loved them,painting and sewing them up to the last. painting of camellias, calling them a pearl given by nature.

Mother had liked both the painting and poem so much that she named me "Spring Pearl."

"Miss?" Doggy called my name impatiently.

"Wait," I said, hunting desperately. Finally I found one survivor almost buried under the invaders.While doggy stood impatiently, I dug it up carefully and put it in an old pot.

"Why would you want that old thing?" He asked.

Just because...I want it,"I said,nit wishing to reveal the reap meaning to a stranger. with a sign,he found a space in the basket and put the flower inside.as shuffled forward, I squared my shoulders.

doggy was right.Don't look back.my old home was already gone. I had to keep telling myself that as I strode to the gate. The closer I got, through, the more my stomach tightened with fear. what would become of me now that my parents were dead?

Even as mother lay dying, se had swept with worry for me. I had told her over and over that I would be all right. Now it was time to keep my word. Taking a deep breath,I plunged outside,away from my old life and into the new