The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,75

life, she would spend them running, leaping, and hoping.

When Mei Lien tripped, she tumbled against the rooftop. For a breathless moment, she didn’t move. Everything throbbed, and her knees and hands stung. But there were no sounds of pursuit, no footsteps chasing, and no one screaming at her to stop. Only the sounds of the city below.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and looked about. The wind and the sun were her only companions. She was alone at last.

Remaining on the roof, she pulled her knees to her chest. With the sun upon her head, she closed her eyes and focused on catching her breath. The air was cool and moist and clean, and for a moment, she imagined herself back in her Hong Kong home. With her mother. Taking a break from their labors.

Perhaps she was having tea with her mother, and they were sharing stories of their day. They would laugh at something, they would reminisce about the past with smiles, they would know only happiness.

The clouds came hours later, and Mei Lien remained on the roof although she was so hungry, she could have eaten dirt. When the drops of rain started, slow at first, then increasing in tempo, she looked about for shelter. Nothing on the rooftop.

Curling tighter into herself, she tried to return her mind to the pleasant things of home. But the cold rain pinged against her neck, her cheeks, and her hair fell damp and lank about her shoulders. The shivering returned, both from the increasing cold and hunger, and from her having no supply of opium. At least the last three days of taking very small doses had helped the withdrawal symptoms.

When dark cloaked the city, Mei Lien moved to her feet. Her joints and limbs were stiff and aching, and she crept to the edge of the rooftop. Below, the number of people in the street had lessened, and some of the shops looked like they had closed. There was no sign of the slave owner’s buggy. She watched a mangy dog trot along the street looking for scraps of food.

The hunger in the dog’s eyes mirrored the hollow in Mei Lien’s stomach. She felt completely empty. But she had no money and nothing to trade. Unless she wanted to go back into prostitution, she would have to find someone to take pity and hire her.

The rain continued, and Mei Lien found a place to climb off the roof. Huddling in an alley wasn’t much warmer, but at least she wasn’t getting rained on anymore. The cold only deepened. And then she had a thought. What if she sold one of the pearls from her bracelet?

With trembling fingers, she lifted her sleeve and slid the bracelet off. She was too exhausted to count the number of pearls, but one missing wouldn’t make the piece any less beautiful.

She unclasped the bracelet, then worked the strand loose until she had disassembled the pearls. After slipping the rest of the pearls into her inner pocket of her damaged dress, she clutched a single pearl in her hand.

Walking out of the alley, she nearly bumped into a young boy.

He looked her up and down, then sneered a curse: “Mui tsai!”

Mei Lien felt singed to the core. The first time she had been called that on the wharf of Hong Kong, she’d been disgusted. This time, it was true.

“Where is the nearest boardinghouse?” she asked the boy.

He stared at her as if he hadn’t understood her Chinese. Surely, he spoke some. When she asked again, he shook his head and took off running along the street. Trying to get away from her.

Mei Lien didn’t dare call after him. Inky black had enveloped the street now. She would just have to follow any scents of cooking food. Putting one foot in front of the other, she walked along the edge of the street, keeping her eyes out for the slave owner, or even for Ah-Peen Oie.

Freedom so far was not what she had expected it to be. Freedom was full of fear. Freedom was riddled with hunger.

But Mei Lien had walked only a block when a hand grasped her and roughly pulled her inside a building.

“The girls of the Presbyterian Mission have organized a Red Cross Society. . . . We try to help the soldiers all we can by sewing for them. And we always remember them in our prayers, because we think that they are right and we know that God will help the