Free Wild Ginger by Anchee Min

their tricycles. They were simple and delightful although poorly educated. They had large muscles and big feet.
    Wild Ginger admired the fishwomen's spirit. She became very friendly with a young one named Jung, who was sixteen. She had a round face and heavyset body. She always brought Wild Ginger pieces of dried fish to chew.
    Although I didn't particularly like the fish market—its smell bothered me and made me nauseous—I went for Wild Ginger's sake. After a while I found myself interested in the conversations between Jung and Wild Ginger. I learned a lot by listening to their discussions on the nature of the sea, seaweed, fish, squid, snails, and the techniques to catch them.
    The year went by quickly. It didn't occur to me until summer that Jung looked worn down. She'd lost her cheerfulness, was nervous, and didn't seem to trust herself. Wild Ginger didn't tell me anything until I remarked on Jung's appearance.
    "She hasn't been careful keeping track of her shipments," Wild Ginger said. "Accountant Choo found out that she often brought in less than she had loaded. It's the fifth time that she was missing two baskets of beltfish."
    "Is it possible to lose them on her way?"
    "It is. But since she's been paying attention she is sure there must be some mistake. But still, she was short of baskets when she passed Mr. Choo's scale."
    "That's odd."
    "Something is smelly about Accountant Choo," Wild Ginger said. "I have been watching him. I suspect that he is taking advantage of Jung. You know, Jung can't calculate. When Choo's butterfly fingers dance over the abacus in front of her and he tells her that two baskets are missing, she has to believe him. Jung is like a mute who has swallowed bitter grass but is unable to voice it. It's a setup. Before Jung can argue with Choo all the people around her—the squid seller, the cigarette seller, and the liquor seller—act as witnesses for Mr. Choo. In one voice, they say that Jung is wrong. It is ... as if they already knew the answer before Accountant Choo's fingers even touched the abacus ... I need your help, Maple. I must figure this out."

    It was eight o'clock in the evening. We found Jung sitting on her tricycle sobbing. She had been accused again. She was afraid of losing her job if the mysterious mistake kept repeating itself. Accountant Choo was firm that there had been no fault on his part. Jung's fellow fishermen were upset, but they were unable to prove Jung's innocence.
    The baskets filled with seafood were distributed to each booth. The market employees came and began to sort the fish. I was hungry and wanted to go home. But Wild Ginger
insisted that I stay. She was spying on Mr. Choo. She moved her stall toward the east corner where she could keep Choo in sight. She pretended that she was sharpening her scissors.
    "It looks like he is getting ready to take off." Wild Ginger quickly pulled me to her side. "I want you to follow me, Maple. Keep at a distance but keep me in your sight."
    "You're not going to do something dangerous, are you?"
    "Of course not," Wild Ginger replied without looking at me. She quickly put down her scissors and closed her stall.
    I watched Accountant Choo. He locked his abacus away in a cart and pushed the cart into a storage space next to a booth. Out he came carrying a black plastic bag. He crossed the street and entered a public restroom. After a short while he came out, followed by men with familiar faces. They were the discount seafood seller, the cigarette seller, and the liquor seller. They were pulling up their zippers and looking around at the same time. They walked separately but toward the same direction heading north. I backed a few yards from Wild Ginger and pretended that I was passing by.
    The group of men formed a triangle with Accountant Choo at its head. After they passed the neighborhood they began to walk faster. We followed them across a construction site, a waste site, an abandoned plastic-tube factory, and onto the