Free Along the River by Adeline Yen Mah Page B

our grandchildren and our great-great-grandchildren.”
    “There’s something mysterious about this river, isn’t there?” I muse.
    “I know,” Ah Zhao agrees. “Where does it begin and where does it end? I want to follow it to its source and find out.”
    “And I want something to eat,” Gege says, bringing us back to earth.
    At the edge of the field are stands selling hot and cold drinks, noodles, dumplings and steamed buns. Gege buys us each a bun. I bite into the fluffy, light exterior, waiting for the meat and the hot, savory juices to run over my tongue. It tastes so good that I ask for another, but I can’t finish it, so the boys share it.
    We pass a large stall piled high with kites of different shapes and sizes, each more colorful than the last. Some are tied to poles so that they billow in the wind. Most are made of paper, but a few are silk. I can’t resist touching one shaped like a bird with orange-and-yellow wings, green tail and blue body.
    “This kite is yours for only eight coppers,” the toothless old kite merchant says to me. “Today is a perfect day for kite-flying. Neither too hot nor too cold. Nice breeze blowing, but not too strong. See the leaves rustling in the treetops, and the flags flying on that big boat over there? All indicators of good kite-flying weather. On top of that, not a hint of rain, so you won’t be troubled by lightning.”
    “What’s this kite made of?”
    “Bamboo frame, paper sail and silk flying line. Silk kites are much more expensive. We carry both kinds. Our special kites look like insects, butterflies, dragons, fish and other animals. Our musical kites have flutes, gourds or bows attached to them, so the wind ‘plays’ musical tunes as the kites fly.”
    “What about this one?” Gege asks, pointing to a small diamond-shaped kite attached to a line coated with shards of metal.
    “That’s a fighter kite, made for boys. Buy two of them. Then you and your friend can have a friendly contest trying to cut one another’s lines. But be careful that you don’t injure your hands while handling the lines.”
     
     
    A dizzying variety of competitions are being held at different areas of the field. There’s a group of small children tripping along, trailing small paper kites. Someone in the distance is counting out numbers in clear, measured tones: “… forty-two, forty-three, forty-four…” The majority of the kites flutter and crash before the announcer reaches one hundred. One little girl with two pigtails pointing upward bursts into tears as her kite blows away in the wind.
    Farther along is a group of teenagers about our age. One of them has managed to raise his kite to a height over five hundred zhang .
    I see an elderly man handling a butterfly kite so skillfully that it looks alive. He steers it with two lines of equal length strapped to his wrists. His kite can dance, fly loop-the-loop, turn somersaults in the air, or dive down before swooping back gracefully towards the sky.
    Next to him is a team of eight men assembling a giant red-and-brown dragon-shaped kite with a long tail. It’s an elaborate affair with many bamboo hinges and numerous strings joined together into a single line attached to a handle and wheel. The team leader studies the wind direction and tells his men where to stand. At just the right moment, he barks out an order. Everyone dashes forward with the kite raised above their heads. As the dragon inflates with wind, the leader signals its release. The kite rises with grace, floating majestically into the sky, while the leader hastily pays out extra lengths of string from his wheel. It doesn’t take long for the dragon to rise to a great height, swaying and swerving as if it’s alive.
    To our left, men and boys are shouting, cheering and chasing one another in an area away from the kite-flyers. It’s a large, flat, rectangular field marked off with a red rope.
    “ Cu ju (football)!” Gege exclaims, in great excitement, and