Along the River by Adeline Yen Mah

frowns. “How did paper money become more valuable than copper coins or silver ingots?”
    “As Little Sister pointed out just now, long strings of copper coins are too heavy to carry around. So rich merchants started storing their coins at businesses such as pawnshops. In return, the pawnbroker would give a piece of paper, stating how many coins each merchant had placed with him. When someone needed to withdraw his money, all he had to do was bring his piece of paper to the pawnshop. This practice has been going on since the Tang Dynasty.
    “About one hundred years ago, the Emperor ran out of copper coins. So His Majesty began issuing official paper money, printed and guaranteed by the government, instead of coins. Nowadays we use coins to buy small things, and flying money for big purchases.”
    “Well, I won’t need any flying money or silver ingots today,” Ah Zhao says. “I can place the crickets in my homemade bamboo cages and deliver them to Commissioner Ye that way.”
    “Your cages are too flimsy,” Baba says. “Gourds are sturdier and more practical for transporting crickets. I don’t want those insects to die. Go to the market and bring back two gourds. While you’re shopping, I’ll write to my boss and tell him about the tricks Lady An Kai can learn to improve her luck with crickets. Transfer your crickets into the gourds when you come back, then deliver the whole lot to the Commissioner at his yamen (government office).”
    “Yes, Old Master!” Ah Zhao says, beaming with pleasure. “In your note, please tell the Commissioner that these two crickets are special. I think they were probably marshals commanding great armies in their past lives. Their souls are filled with fighting spirit and potent qi (energy). They will do their owner proud!”
    “Enough!” Baba says sternly. “I don’t need you to tell me what to write. On your way!”
    “I’m going with Ah Zhao to choose the gourds!” Gege says. He turns to Baba. “May we go on horseback, to save time?”
    “I want to go too!” I say, reluctant to be left behind. “Please, Baba, please?”
    “You’ll slow us down!” Gege protests. “Besides, you don’t even know how to ride.”
    “Come with us, Baba! Please!” I plead. “Let’s all go. Will you take us in your carriage?”
    As Baba hesitates, we hear a cough and the unctuous voice of old Ah Wang. “Good morning, Old Master, Young Master and Little Miss,” he says, ignoring Ah Zhao as if he doesn’t exist. “Teacher Lai has arrived, but Young Master and Little Miss have not had their breakfast yet.”
    “I’m not hungry,” Gege says.
    “Nor am I. We don’t want any breakfast,” I add.
    “Tell Teacher Lai to go home,” Gege announces airily. “Baba’s boss, Commissioner Ye, has ordered us to go shopping today. He’s giving Confucius and Mencius a holiday. Instead, Baba’s taking everyone to the market in his carriage!”
    Baba is obviously in a good mood, because he laughs and waves Ah Wang away.
     
Visit to the Capital
     
    I nstead of sitting with Baba and me inside the carriage, Gege insists on joining Ah Zhao and our coachman Little Chen (Xiao Chenon the driver’s bench. Baba and I sit side by side in the vehicle. I’m really excited to be going to the city because I’m seldom allowed out of the house. My last outing was three years ago when my grandmother Lao Lao, Niang’s mother, died and we buried her in the cemetery.
    Although our house is only three li (about one mile) from the city gate, the countryside around us is dewy and tranquil. The air smells fresh, trees are turning green and flower buds dot the fields with splashes of color.
    As our horses trot past the farms, I see peasants bent over their crops, and men and boys plowing their fields with the help of water buffaloes. On the narrow pathway, our carriage competes for space with goatherds, cow hands and pig farmers shepherding their animals to market. Little Chen wends his way skillfully along