“I don't understand, MaMa,” said three-year-old OnYeen with a sniffle. “Why are you cutting all my hair off?”
Bing set the straight razor down on a small lacquered table, next to a pile of navigation charts. She wiped OnYeen's pale, bald head with a warm towel and brushed clumps of long brown hair from OnYeen's sleeping gown. “Everyone at the temple shaves his head,” Bing said. “That's the rule.”
OnYeen sniffled again. “You said shaves his head. I'm a girl.”
“This is true,” Bing replied. “However, from now on you must pretend that you are a boy. Your head must also be shaved every day.”
“But why?”
“Because you have to hide. Your father and I are in danger, which means you are in danger. There are people looking for all three of us. You must pretend that you are a boy in order to better fool people, and you must never let your hair grow because of its color. You are different from everyone else. You already know this.”
“I know I am different,” OnYeen said. “Because of Father. But I don't care. I want to stay with him. I want to stay with both of you!”
Bing set the towel down beside a glowing oil lamp. She turned toward the cabin's single porthole and stared into the night sky. “I am sorry, but we must separate. You will go to the temple where I grew up, and I will take flight in the mountains. Your father will undock this ship of his and return to the sea.”
OnYeen raised her eyes to the flickering shadows on the wood-paneled ceiling. Her mind began to race. “Why can't I shave my head and dress like a boy and stay with you? You can shave your head, too. We can be boys together.”
Bing sighed. “You are far too intelligent for a child your age. You know that, don't you? You cannot come with me. I am sorry.”
“Then when will you come get me?”
Bing turned away from the porthole. “We must be honest about this. It may be a long time.”
“How long?” OnYeen asked. Tears began to dribble down her pale bony cheeks.
Bing knelt and looked OnYeen in the eye. “I do not know how long I will be away. Some people believe that everything happens for a reason, daughter. You must try to find the good in this, and you must remain strong, like I've taught you. You will learn many things from Grandmaster. You will continue your training in the healing arts and kung fu. I learned everything I know at the temple.”
OnYeen closed her eyes. “I remember Grandmaster. He came to visit once. He is mean.”
“He is not mean,” Bing said. “He is strict. There is a difference. Look at me.”
OnYeen opened her eyes.
“You have to be strong,” Bing said. “Going to the temple is the logical thing to do. The logical choice is always the best choice. Do you understand?”
OnYeen sniffled.
“Do you understand?” Bing repeated.
OnYeen wiped her eyes and nodded.
“Good,” Bing said. “I have something for you. This has always helped me. Perhaps it will help you.”
Bing reached into the collar of her white robe and lifted a silk thread from around her neck. Dangling from the thread was a tiny green crane. “I carved this for myself many years ago. It is jade. Some people believe the precious green stone absorbs pain. Wear it over your heart. That is where you will hurt most.”
Bing placed the circle of thread over OnYeen's head. OnYeen didn't feel any different.
“I still want to come with you,” OnYeen said.
Bing stared, unblinking, at OnYeen. She didn't reply.
OnYeen knew her mother was not going to change her mind. OnYeen raised her eyes to the ceiling again. “I know!” she said. “I can dream about you! When I get lonely, I can close my eyes and visit you. We can fly together from the mountains to the sea and find Father and—”
Bing shook her head and rested her long, delicate fingers on OnYeen's shoulders. “It is time for bed.”
OnYeen frowned and climbed into her bunk. She gazed at her mother, trying not to blink.
“There is one more thing,” Bing said. “If you think about it logically, you will understand that it must be done. We must also change your name.”
OnYeen sank into her thin mattress and her eyelids began to quiver. “No, MaMa … not my name. I like my name.”
“I like your name, too. It suits you perfectly. Perhaps too perfectly, given these troubled times. Where you are going, people speak Cantonese. They will know that OnYeen means Peaceful, and that it's a girl's name. I am very sorry, but we have to change it. Only Grandmaster will know that you are a girl.”
OnYeen did her best to choke back her tears. She needed to be strong, like her mother said. She needed to do the logical thing. “What will my new name be?”