Ebony Scales

“No need,” Wong replied. “Small cut, only one centimeter. You will have scar, but will heal fine if you keep it clean.”

“So no more work on the truck today?”

“One week, no dirty work,” Wong said with a smile. “Maybe help schoolchildren?”

Joy sighed and nodded, smiling. She’d have to talk to Longwei and the schoolteachers, but she was sure she could do something besides sit around all day. Leaving the doctor’s office, she headed back to the temple, or as Doctor Wong said, her home.

Making her way through the large stone and wooden gate of the temple, Joy felt a wave of peace pass over her, even more than the normal peacefulness of village life. The courtyard of the temple was shaded by pine trees, with the stone and wood construction stretching out horizontally rather than vertically. Joy didn’t know what if any religion the temple was associated with, but it didn’t matter to her. The building spoke of peace and tranquility to her.

Heading inside, Joy found Longwei in the temple room that served as a village office. He was looking over a small pile of papers, which were tightly packed with writing on both sides. Joy knocked on the frame, causing Longwei to look up. “Hi,” he said, setting the papers aside. Spying the white wrapping against the normal brown of her hand, he stood up, concerned. “What’s with your hand?”

Joy showed him the cut, carefully unwrapping the cloth Dr. Wong had used. “The truck bit me,” she joked, as Longwei held her hand gingerly. “Doc Wong said no dirty work for a week.”

“Well, there goes my idea,” Longwei said with a smile as he kissed her. His long tongue caressed hers, sweeping against her lips before he stepped back. “Unless…?”

Joy laughed, and pushed Longwei back, enjoying the feel of his chest muscles under her hands. “Not right now, love. So what were you studying so intently?”

“Just some reports from the villagers. I try to get around as much as I can, but this village still has almost three thousand people in it, spread out over a large area, mostly farms. Some of the more outlying farms I don’t see more than once a week.”

“Anything important?”

“Well, one family is expecting a baby, another has a pig in ill health, nothing out of the ordinary. Since we’re a very communal village, it falls on me to help sort out work and other things in these situations.”

Joy just shook her head. She understood that the village ran under a strange, seemingly archaic blend of feudal and communistic systems, she knew that the village’s belief in Longwei and his supposedly dragon inspired wisdom helped, but she also knew most of Longwei’s wisdom came not from any supposed magical dragon blood, but him working hard and using all of the learning he had gathered in obtaining his Master’s degree and his travels.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best,” she said, as she always told him in these situations. He had confided in her that her presence was a comfort, because it gave him someone to confide in that didn’t see him as a mythological being. “So with me stuck unable to use my hand for a week, what can I do to help?”

“Let’s have lunch, and we can talk about it then.”

*****

That afternoon, Joy walked out to the farm that was the ostensible reason why she was in the village. Yingtai, the young woman whose life she saved, was sitting in the doorway of her family’s small house, holding a bai luobo radish with the crook of her injured arm, while rubbing the dirt away using a soft brush in the other. Her burned hand was still wrapped, although her healing was progressing well. When she looked up from her work and saw Joy, she set her work aside carefully and greeted her with a wave of her good hand and a smile. Joy returned the wave, waving with her hands for the woman to sit down. Yingtai’s English was almost nonexistent, so Joy tried her best in the village’s dialect of Chinese.

“How’s your hand?”

“My hand is good.”

“Do you still have pain?”

“Some. My,” here Yingtai said a string of words that Joy didn’t understand, “still hurts. It feels better bit by bit.”

“I’m glad.”

“How did you hurt your hand?”

Joy wasn’t sure how to say the proper words in Chinese, so she pantomimed the truck, the wrench, and her accident for Yingtai. The young Chinese woman watched intently, listening to each of Joy’s English words, repeating them softly to herself as Joy told her story. When Joy showed her the cut, which had now crusted over into a rather ugly scab, she clucked her tongue in commiseration. “We will both have scars, now.”

“It adds character,” Joy said, chuckling. “Can I help with your work?”

Yingtai nodded, and the two women sat down, both cradling vegetables under their forearm while they cleaned with their uninjured hand. Joy thought as she cleaned, how much her life had changed in just the few months since she had come to the village. She went from trying to be the next Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, cutting her teeth on corruption investigations of the Triad and the Chinese government, to the only black woman in probably a hundred miles, living in a rural Chinese village, happily scrubbing radishes while being the girlfriend/lover of the village leader, who just happened to not only be handsome and smart, but a shape-shifter who could become a dragon at will. Quite a change for a twenty six year old woman from the poor side of Washington, D.C.

“Thank you, sister,” Yingtai said as they finished the last radish. Joy looked at her slightly perplexed, unsure if she had heard properly. Brushing off her hand on her pants, she nodded her goodbye, before making her way back to the temple. When she got home, the sun was starting to go down, which meant for most of the village, bedtime was approaching. With few lights and little money to waste on candles or oil lamps, most of the village rose and went to bed by the sun. Joy still hadn’t totally adapted to the time schedule of the village, but still felt tired. Going inside, she found Longwei just finishing his cooking in the kitchen.