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.
A great cry from the table tells me another competitor has been stung. I shake my head in disgust. It can’t be worth it for that sort of injury!
It isn’t deadly, Li Wei says, face intrigued as he watches the spectacle again. I’ve seen it happen to others. The swelling will go down in another day or so.
It still doesn’t seem like it’s worth the risk, no matter the riches, and judging from Xiu Mei’s exasperated expression as she supervises the matches, she agrees. After the last defeat, no other volunteers offer themselves up. The bearded man calmly nods to his assistant, who dumps more coins on the table. I see temptation in the eyes of those gathered, but no one steps forward.
It is more difficult now, Li Wei tells me. The scorpion is agitated, more likely to strike.
The old man’s assistant pours out still more coins. It’s not enough to entice anyone, I remark. No one is that foolish.
Or so I think.
To my complete astonishment, Li Wei gets up and strides forward. Before I can even think to stop him, he has pushed through the crowd and holds out the pixiu statue to the assistant. The young man looks it over with a critical eye, particularly the gold trim, and then gives a sharp nod of acceptance. The crowd goes crazy, and I spur myself forward. I need to stop him, tell him he’s being an idiot, but a warning look from Xiu Mei stills me. I can’t sign to Li Wei—not in front of all these people.
Helpless, I watch as the bets are taken. Most of them are against. I don’t need to understand what the others are saying to know their thoughts. From their expressions and nudges, it’s clear they think Li Wei is some bumbling, naive boy who will almost certainly falter and fail. Untroubled by their comments, Li Wei’s hard gaze is fixed squarely on the scorpion in its box. He never takes his eyes from it as the bets are collected, and his jaw is tightly clenched.
I’m nearly as tense and again have to fight the urge to drag him away from this madness. But there’s no time. With the bets in, the bearded man has the scorpion out and on Li Wei’s hand. I stop breathing. The crowd starts in with its cacophony, but that at least is one distraction Li Wei doesn’t have to worry about. He is oblivious to the sounds, able to focus solely on keeping his hands and arms straight—which, even I have to admit, he does remarkably well. Back and forth he passes the scorpion, remaining calm and collected the entire time, while I grow increasingly anxious. What is he thinking? He can’t risk that kind of injury to his hand, especially if we have to climb back soon! And what if he’s wrong about how harmless the sting really is?
Six, seven, eight. On the ninth pass, the crowd goes wild, trying desperately to unnerve him as he nears his final pass. He doesn’t twitch at all, but I am shaking so much that I wrap my arms around myself to stay steady. The tenth pass finishes, and triumphant, he returns the scorpion to its box. Pandemonium breaks out. Most of the spectators lost, but a few who bet on Li Wei will be paid handsomely. The assistant pushes an enormous stack of coins toward Li Wei, who shakes his head and points to the vivid red silk. After a quick conference with his master, the assistant collects a few of the coins and then hands the rest to Li Wei, along with the silk and pixiu statue.
Grinning, Li Wei gathers up his winnings and starts to step away when another man suddenly crosses his path. The man speaks, but Li Wei can’t understand. He stares in confusion, which seems to agitate the man. Whatever he says next causes a few others to regard Li Wei speculatively, and I tense, wondering what is going wrong. Xiu Mei suddenly moves to his side and says something with an easy smile. This pacifies the others, though the original speaker looks suspicious. She steers Li Wei back to the seclusion of our table, and I quickly join them.
Are you out of your mind? I demand. What would drive you to do something so dangerous? You were nearly stung!
Nearly? Li Wei asks indignantly after setting down his goods. I wasn’t even close to that!
I’ll agree to that, Xiu Mei says wryly. You were in more danger of being discovered as deaf, which many would see as an unfair advantage. That man thought you were too calm around the noise, and then you didn’t answer him. I told him you come from far away and don’t speak our language.
Thank you, I tell her, needing to get us back on track from this madness. Now, if you could help us find the others who—