Is that her real hair? Li Wei asks.
Xiu Mei says something to Lu Zhu, making both women laugh. Li Wei blushes, guessing the joke was at his expense. Yes , says Xiu Mei. She comes from a land outside of Beiguo, and all her people are like that. She works here now, just as I do. She’s come to see if you want dinner or rice wine, but I’m guessing neither of you has money.
We shake our heads. Xiu Mei opens her mouth to speak, and then a loud noise draws their attention back toward the center of the room. Some of the men in the center have begun moving the heavy wooden tables. Lu Zhu shakes her head in dismay, and Xiu Mei looks annoyed as she gets to her feet.
What’s going on? I ask.
They’re playing that stupid game again , she says. I need to go and make sure no one gets hurt by the . . .
I don’t understand the last word she says because it’s another unknown sign. She hurries over to where a group of men is huddled around one of the tables. Li Wei and I exchange puzzled glances and then rise at the same time to see what is happening.
A man with a gray-streaked black beard holds a small box in front of him. He lifts the lid, and everyone leans forward. I need to get closer to see and am small enough to slip forward between two larger men. My breath catches when I discover what’s in the box: a scorpion. It’s a little smaller than my hand, its carapace gleaming black. The man says something and nods to a boy standing near him. The boy produces a small leather bag and spills its contents onto the table: a pile of gleaming gold coins.
Immediately, there is a flurry of action among the men. They begin speaking at once and offering forward coins of their own, as well as other items. One man hands over a ring. Another has an exquisitely painted fan. After some deliberation, the old man gestures toward a tall young man not much older than Li Wei and me. This causes even more excitement. The assistant begins collecting the various offerings and handing out small pieces of paper that he scrawls small characters on. Leaning forward, I’m able to read a few of them. The slips record what item was offered and then say either for or against .
When all the items have been gathered, the tall chosen man holds out his hand. Silence falls. To my horror, the bearded man lifts out the scorpion and sets it on the chosen one’s outstretched hand. After several tense moments, the bearded man nods, and the silence shatters, making me jump. Everyone gathered starts making noise. Some of it consists of words, some consists of hums and cries and other sounds I don’t know the word for. It grows to a frenzied, uncomfortable level, almost making me want to retreat. But I’m too curious about what’s happening.
With sweat pouring down his forehead, the young man passes the scorpion between his hands, back and forth. The scorpion docilely obliges. His gaze focuses unblinkingly on the creature, and it’s clear he’s working hard to keep his arms steady. I imagine the noise from the throng isn’t helping. Eight times he passes the scorpion. On the ninth time, the noise from the others rises sharply, and their excitement intensifies. The young man grows more nervous, his hands trembling. Just as he is about to make the tenth pass, the calm scorpion suddenly lashes out, its tail striking the man’s arm. He jerks sharply, and the scorpion falls to the table. My own cry of surprise is lost in the uproar of the others. The old bearded man scoops up the scorpion into its box while his assistant pays out those whose slips read against .
When all the bets are settled, another man volunteers to hold the scorpion. The process repeats, with the crowd again creating a storm of noise in what I realize now is an attempt to distract the holder. This time, the competitor successfully completes ten passes and returns the scorpion to its box. There is more excitement, and the for bets are paid out. The victorious man is also paid, given both gold coins and some of the surrendered loot.
We watch a couple more rounds, and all those who volunteer end up getting stung. All the while, the bearded man’s treasure accumulates. The stacks of coins grow and are joined by other items: a small corked bottle, a newly crafted knife, and a swathe of the reddest silk I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but admire it, particularly after the damage done to my own shirt. Those men who’ve been defeated cradle hands that are swollen and purple, but otherwise they have suffered no ill effects—except maybe to their pride.
Li Wei and I retreat to our table, his eyes bright. I’ve seen that type of scorpion in our village before. They’re harmless unless disturbed. All you have to do is keep your hands steady—it shouldn’t be that hard.
The others are making noise , I explain. Lots of it. It’s distracting to me, and it would be even more distracting if I were holding a creature like that. Another outburst occurs from the table, but I force my attention from the spectacle to focus on our current dilemma. What should we do? I ask Li Wei. About our situation, I mean. Xiu Mei seems to genuinely want to help us, but I’m not sure that she can. She doesn’t know anything about our village, and her father apparently doesn’t have much influence.
They have more than us , Li Wei notes dryly. No one’s even supposed to talk to us—or people like us.
I think it’s those other people we need to find , I say. The others who can’t hear. Perhaps they know something about our history or that of the other village. We need to get to them. That’s where we’ll find answers about what we should do to help our people.
I suppose so , says Li Wei. His eyes drift from me, and this time, rather than focusing on the scorpion game or Lu Zhu, he takes in the room as a whole. The diversity of people is overwhelming, and I think back to what Xiu Mei said, about how people are always coming and going through their doors. There is a sense of wonder on Li Wei’s face, as though perhaps he imagines himself walking out the door with one of those traveling parties—not back to our village but to some exotic location far away.