Free Bound by Donna Jo Napoli

world, much farther from home than she knew she really was.
    Yao Wang told Xing Xing to guard his cart while he washed himself in the river. He didn't just splash his arms and legs from the bank. He stripped off his clothes right in front of her and jumped in. He swam and went under the water and floated on his back, his great belly shining in the dawn sun. Sheng paddled around him, joyously.
    People passed on the street, singing folk songs. They laughed with wonder at the sight in the water, for neither dog nor man had any fear, even when a boat came, bearing boxes for the market. Xing Xing marveled that one who weighed so much as Yao Wang could be lifted so easily by the water, when a small child could disappear below and never be seen again. She walked up and down the bank looking into the water, hoping to see the beautiful fish while she waited for her companions.
    When Yao Wang was ready, they wandered over to a side street, where people sold food they cooked outside—boiled or steamed or fried—in wide curved pans that people in Xing Xing's village used only for drying grains. They stood up eating bowls of rice floating in bean curd whey—white rice of the quality Xing Xing had only on holidays. They ate fried dumplings filled with pork liver. They ate fried bread with sugar sprinkled on top. Sheng ate everything Yao Wang ate, just as though the dog were a person.
    Then they walked to the square where Xing Xing had found Yao Wang the day before. Patients came quickly, spluttering loudly about their health problems. While Yao Wang tended to them, Xing Xing took a jar from his cart and looked it over. Unlike the jars in Master Tang's house, the name of the medicine was not fired under the glaze of the vessel. Instead, it was written on top in ink. The writing on this jar was unpleasing; in fact, even ugly. The writing on the other jars was just as bad. At the end of every label was the character for  tiger,  which was supposed to ward off misfortune. But the character was so awkward, Xing Xing was sure it had no power at all.
    She searched around in the cart for paintbrush and ink. She found a crude brush, a jar of ink powder, and a bowl meant for mixing up the ink. She didn't want to leave Yao Wang for the time it would take to go down to the river for water. So she spit in the bowl and mixed in some powder to make a small amount of ink. She painstakingly scratched away every bit of the lettering on the jar in her hand. She wrote the name of the contents again in her most beautiful calligraphy. She did the same to a second jar, and a third, all the while keeping her activity a secret from Yao Wang. She couldn't wait to see his reaction when he came upon them later.
    The rest of the day passed in this way, as did the following three days. While Yao Wang cured patients,    Xing Xing lettered the medicine jars and combed Sheng's long hair with her fingers. They slept on rice stalks each night, and every time Xing Xing tried to talk, Yao Wang hushed her.
    On the morning of their fifth day together, Yao Wang said, "Talk today. But only when I can listen." So whenever Yao Wang had a lull in business, Xing Xing talked. She explained that the spirit of Stepmother's mother had told Stepmother that the green dates made good medicine, though Xing Xing confessed that the spirit hadn't told her for which ailments. She revealed that Stepmother wanted Yao Wang to tell everyone that it was Wei Ping who had recognized the medicinal value of the dates, so that she could find a husband. And despite Stepmother's order never to tell anyone, she told him about Wei Ping's feet and about the demon raccoon that she had so grievously erred in bringing home and about the cleaver in Stepmother's hands.
    In her whole life Xing Xing had never said so many words to anyone. Yao Wang had been right about the effects of food and sleep and time: Xing Xing told the whole truth. And she loved telling it. The telling made her feel energized and strong,