Free The Scavenger's Daughters (Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters, Book One) by Kay Bratt Page A

the sudden quickening of breath his new friend took on in his stress. He looked around to see if the man’s outburst had been noticed. He decided they needed a break before Pei caused a scene.
    “How about that lunch? I think I can manage another half hour or so.” Benfu stood and gestured toward the buffet bar.
    Soon they both filled plates with goodies and over their lunch conversation turned to their families and the blessings in their lives. Before Benfu knew it, he’d been at the restaurant for over two hours. He was shocked howgood it felt to find someone who could truly understand what it had been like in the same commune he had endured. The constant fight for clean drinking water, the weeks without bathing, the hard labor, and frequent self-criticisms to prove to their commune neighbors that they’d improved their integrity and loyalty to the new China had taken a toll on all of them. Many had not survived.
    “This has been amazing, Pei, and it has been a pleasure to meet you, but I probably need to go. I still have a lot of work to do today,” Benfu said, deliberately leaving out the details of his profession. He’d let the younger man believe he was a collector—which was close enough to a scavenger, just not as undignified.
    “Okay, but one more question. Were you able to save anything from the rampage of those who led the destruction of Chinese relics?” Pei asked, his expression reminding Benfu of an inquisitive boy, despite the deep lines and age spots peppering his face.
    “Save anything?” Benfu was confused.
    “Yes, you know—from their intent to rid China of anything that represented our history?”
    Benfu hesitated. It was indeed a miracle that he was able to save his violin when so many musical instruments across the nation were confiscated and lost forever. Maybe his new friend would appreciate his story. “Well, did you ever see that dried-up old well behind the kitchen?”
    Pei shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
    “While I was at the commune, I hid my violin in an old well, but I rarely got to play it—I was too afraid I’d get caught with it.”
    “Now that is luck! Who would’ve thought to see what was down there? Back then it was said that those old wells were used to dispose of unwanted infants. My team stayed far away from it, scared of unsettled spirits haunting it, I suppose.”
    Benfu had also heard that rumor and on the few times he’d raised up his instrument, he refused to look deep into the well for fear of what he’d see. Itwas a disturbing thought, and one that he had no trouble believing to be true in an era during which so many horrible acts were committed.
    “Do you still play?” Pei asked.
    Benfu shook his head. For years everything except songs praising Mao was forbidden. By the time real music was allowed again, Benfu had lost his desire to play.
    Pei looked disappointed. “Well, that’s very sad to hear. Mao tried to take away everything that brought us joy—art, books, and even music. Zheng, I learned a lot about antiques during my time after the revolution. Even though many things were lost, some treasures were safeguarded. Good for you. Do you still have the violin?”
    Benfu hesitated as he watched the man nervously tap his fingers on the table. He’d never forget how his parents had told him to keep the family heirloom safe from all others. He thought he could probably trust Pei, but in China it only took one slipped word to lose something of value. He looked around at the packed restaurant. Who knew who was listening to their conversation?
    Benfu shook his head. “Unfortunately I haven’t laid my fingers across it for many decades. Everything was lost to me in those days, even my desire to make music.”
    Pei rubbed at the middle of his forehead, his eyes closed for a moment.
    “You weren’t the only one with a secret, you know.”
    Benfu raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. He thought perhaps Pei had hidden a romance of some