“Try this,” he said, offering me a sip. “How do you like it?”
I sipped slowly, copying the languid way Sai Ma drank wine, and let the flavor of the milk sit on my tongue. “Not too sweet.”
“Isn’t it good?” Tommy said excitedly. “Most soymilks are too grainy and thick, but this one is smooth. Yet it tastes fresh, like it was made at home.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’tit made here?”
“No. The brand’s called Peaksoy.” He paused. “Have you heard of it?”
I had not.
“That’ll change one day,” he said. “It’s the name of our soymilk. During the war, Grandfather had us cycle up and down Jardine’s Bazaar selling it, and now we’ve been promoting our milk to all the local teahouses and markets. Schools and hospitals, too.”
“How’s that gone?”
“It hasn’t been easy,” Tommy admitted. “But this place serves Peaksoy now, so that’s one business in Hong Kong.”
I clinked my bottle to his cup. “One is more than zero.”
“It is,” Tommy agreed. He was drawing on a napkin. “Try to guess what it is.”
“A mountain. No, Victoria Peak!” He was good, at least to my untrained eye. He added the harbor next to the mountain, sketching fish in the water.
“I didn’t know you drew,” I said.
“I started during the occupation. It helped pass the time. Better than going to school and having to learn the enemy’s language.” His voice dipped. “One day, I’ll draw the logo for Peaksoy.”
“Is that the wish you’d make to your guardian fish?” I asked, pointing at the koi he’d sketched on the napkin.
“One of them. What about you?”
“I want to sing,” I confessed. “I want to make records and hear myself on the radio.”
“Not go to the Spring Festival and find a husband?” he said playfully.
“It’s 1946, no one does that anymore.” After I said it, I inclined my head. “What happened to Yeh Shen?”
Tommy smiled. Our food had arrived, and he washed our plates and cutlery in boiling tea before splitting the toast and french fries, offering me the larger portions. “The Spring Festival was in a few days, and Yeh Shen’s stepmother and stepsister were very excited. After all, the festival was where young men and women gathered to find suitable matches, and the stepsister hoped to marry the son of a high government official, or even a lord.
“Yeh Shen also wanted to go, but her family laughed at her rags and went off without her. No sooner did they leave than a sparkling azure silk gown appeared on her cot, its vibrance rivaling the sea itself. There was also a silvery cloak trimmed with the softest kingfisher feathers, and most exquisite of all: a pair of golden slippers sewn from her beloved fish’s scales.
“‘Be sure not to lose the slippers,’ came a voice from the bones.
“‘I promise,’ said Yeh Shen. She prayed to the fish bones in thanks, put on the splendid clothes, then was off to the festival.
“It’s said that the moment she arrived, the kites froze in the sky, the lanternlights stopped flickering, and even the horses and birds ceased to neigh and natter. It was as though a celestial maiden had descended upon earth, for no one could take their eyes off this mysterious young lady. Unaware of the attention, Yeh Shen sang and danced. She sampled foods from each stall and greeted every person who stared at her. It was the merriest time of her life until she encountered her stepmother. Worriedthat she might be recognized, Yeh Shen fled the festival, losing one of her golden slippers during her haste.
“Distraught that she couldn’t keep her promise to the fish bones, Yeh Shen searched every day for the missing shoe, but it was nowhere to be found. Little did she know, a traveling merchant had chanced upon the slipper and sold it to the emperor himself. The emperor had heard about the celestial maiden who’d graced the Spring Festival and was determined to find her. He returned the slipper to the very road where Yeh Shen had lost it and patiently waited for her to come looking for it. At last he saw her, and he fell in love and asked her to marry him. And so she did.”
“That’s it?” I said, crossing my arms. For a story I’d waited so long to hear finished, the ending was underwhelming. “Did she become empress or was she merely a concubine?”
Tommy didn’t know. “She married a king, what does the rest matter?”
I thought of Baba’s taking a second wife and shook my head at Tommy. “It makes all the difference.”
“It’s a happy ending,” he assured me.
I wasn’t convinced. My petty Ha blood wanted more answers. “What happened to the stepmother and stepsister?”
