# The Wind That Tramps the World (collection)/The Month the Almonds Bloom

The Month the Almonds Bloom
Over the shadowy wall of the Chinese garden the moon rose like a golden lantern, bringing into sharp silhouette the fronds of the trees against the velvet sky. Like fireflies the stars flitted about in the blue glory. A soft breeze sighed lazily through the willows laden with perfumes of pungent fragrance.
Upon the high wall, little Lee Cheng perched and crooned to the moon. He sang tiny verses of his own inventing, odd little fragments that gave him pleasure and pleasure was all that he desired.
Lee Cheng was very small and very young. Nobody knew his age nor anything about him. He lingered in the gorgeous garden of Woo Fung, the renowned philosopher who had discovered him wandering listlessly in the narrow alleys of Canton and taken him to his lovely garden near the Pearl River.
Woo Fung was a Jade Master whose fame had spread throughout the Empire. Rich merchants came from far and near to consult him about Jades or Nephrites which they imagined were different to all known specimens. He was an expert in this most delightful of gems, the only one that is pleasurable to the touch as well as to the sight. Only a poet can truly ​appreciate the splendor of Jade, purple, green, gorgeous orange and yellow, black, white and mist-like gray. And Woo Fung was a poet. For each bit of Jade he carved he wrote a bit of verse and always as he worked, he sang; songs of willows, of shadowy hills and of spring. Once he made a gong of jade that tinkled when it was struck like music of Chinese Fairies or of the Sky People that roam about the Blue Highways among the wondrous clouds. The verse he fashioned for it was of extreme simplicity.
"Whence comes the tinkle Of a Bell of Jade? From coral seas, From purple skies, From fluttering echoes Of laughing baby eyes?
Whence goes the tinkle Of a Bell of Jade? To silver clouds, To gorgeous flowers, To slant-eyed Manchu girls Or to summer showers?"
Woo Fung was a great artist. He received inspiration from sky and sea and gardens and from the eyes of the beautiful Lady Shun Kao who was as slim as a woodland fairy. Her hair was black with the slightest ​suggestion of blue in its texture, blue as the sky on a night in summer when the moon is sleeping. Her lips were sweet and soft, flower-like in texture, a pungent lovely red. Her eyes were green, glorious jade-green eyes that caressed with their glance. Her cheeks were white with just a suggestion of pink like the loveliest porcelain of Kingtehchen. Her garments were always of green or yellow, sometimes a blend of both. She was a wistful, charming dreamer and most of her dreams were about the Jade Master, Woo Fung.
Her father, Mu Kao, was a collector of precious stones and objects of art. Hour after hour he mulled over his wondrous collections of emeralds and jade, amber and lapis lazuli.
Among his splendid jades were several specimens of that rarest jade of all, ivory-white, of a mutton-fat appearance, besides several that resembled rare emeralds to such a degree only an expert could differentiate between them. Mu Kao thought much of his gems but little of his graceful daughter who was by far the most perfect jewel in his household.
Women had no place in his life. Men were foolish who wasted thought over them. Long Mei, his wife, was dead. He had merely married her to watch over his house, to take charge of the cooking and other domestic trifles. Such a marriage of convenience had given him plenty of time to meditate. He was an authority on Jade and it is therefore not remarkable that his path should have crossed that of the great Woo ​Fung who was the greatest Jade Master throughout China despite his comparative youth and extremely boyish appearance.
Countless were the hours the two spent together absorbed in the brilliance and glory of strange gems and also on the part of Woo Fung, in the loveliness of flower-like Shun Kao. Throughout China the position of woman is subjective. She never intrudes on her lord and master, on her father or her husband. But the house of Mu Kao was carelessly run. Shun Kao was permitted to roam about at will. He scarcely ever noticed her, nor did she intrude upon his meditations.
Small wonder, then, that as Woo Fung sat in the Lacquer Room of the house of Mu Kao his mind should have drifted off to the purple Hills of Dream. A fragrant perfume permeated the air. Pungent lanterns gleamed and glimmered. Shun Kao glided about like a gorgeous wonder-flower. Her lips were red like cherries. Her eyes shone in star-splendor. Her whole appearance spelled enticement, girl of witchery and wistfulness, girl of poetry and rich love.
While Woo Fung and Shun Kao seldom if ever spoke to one another, he wooed her with his eyes and it seemed to him as though there were an echoing response in hers. Although they did not speak, their souls were in communion. The fragrance of love spread about them like a mist of azure, binding them together in intangible nets of loveliness. It made a genius of the Jade-carver poet, Woo Fung. From that moment ​onward his verses held a finer lilt, a greater breadth of fancy for they were imbued with the sweet dreams of the Lady Shim Kao. After all love alone is the supreme emotion. No greater thing exists in all the world, greater than gold, more gorgeous than diamonds, more subtle than poppy fragrance and lighter than webs of gossamer.
Woo Fung always carved his Jades before a window that opened into his garden through which essence of pine and sandalwood drifted and the breath of rich pungent spices. He was aware of the lure of exotic, subtle perfumes and with this in mind he had made his garden. All the sweet-breathed flowers grew there beneath grim gingko trees and tranquil willows. A tiny stream tinkled merrily through the center of the garden, laughing and gurgling over the stones that lay in its path. And above the stream, a charming bridge loomed up like a crescent moon. The moon was a favorite subject in the carvings of the Jade of Woo Fung for the moon reminded him of Shun Kao. Her thin eyebrows were like the new moon's crescent, rising in the east when the month is young. Her pale face was like the color of the moon on a frosty night in mid-winter.
So the poet Woo Fung worked at his carvings and as he worked, a strange and beautiful dream grew in his heart. He dreamed of the day when he could build a cherry-roofed house for his lady, surrounded by orange-blossoms and pond-lotuses. They would be ​married the month the almonds bloomed and the soft pink almond-blossoms would fall like snow about them. Each blossom would bring happiness. At night they would linger in the wondrous garden or glide about in a small boat on the Pearl River, a river bathed in moonlight, a river of enchantment and romance. Songs to her he would sing, songs of love and the moon, of love and adoration.
So he carved his Jade and the dream grew and flourished until it was as much at home in that garden as he himself. It assumed a personality, a companion that urged him on to greater and greater effort.
Then one day when he visited Mu Kao he found the old philosopher bending over a bit of white Jade, a tiny fragment of white Jade through which ran a streak of amethyst. It was unlike any specimen he had ever seen. Mu Kao was so absorbed in it that he scarcely noticed Woo Fung's approach. When he looked up his face was colorless and his hand shook, so great was his emotion.
"In a few days," he said hoarsely, "this rare jewel will be mine. I am even now negotiating with Kung Chia for its possession. I am having difficulty because Kung Chia is very rich. His ships cover the Seven Seas. Gold would not be a lure to him but I believe in time the Jade will be mine. For I have offered him Shun Kao in exchange for it. After all what is the value of a girl compared to the loveliness of white Jade? The deal is almost made though Kung Chia is ​a hard bargainer. He insists that my offer lacks sufficiency. He wishes me to throw in a vase of salmon Jade to even the balance. This I will not do. The vase is worth a fortune. It, too, is rare. Shun Kao he shall have but not the salmon vase. He loves women. He already has many concubines in his palace. I know ere long he will bow down to my wishes."
As Mu Kao spoke he turned again to the bit of snowy Jade before him. Without a word Woo Fung crept out of the house. As in a daze he wandered through the countless alleys of Canton. And somewhere in the crooked lanes his little dream was lost.
At last he returned to his garden. He was crushed. His beautiful lady was vanishing. She was to be sacrificed to a horrible old man in exchange for a bauble of Jade. Mu Kao was a gem-expert, yet he could not see that the finest jewel of all was being stolen from his house. For days Woo Fung did not eat, nor did he fashion any poems of gorgeous trinkets. The sheen of the wondrous moonlight had vanished from his garden. Only sadness and shadows remained, sadness and shadows and desolation. How long he remained in the abject depths of despondency he did not know nor did he care. The future was shrouded in gloom; the past was a well of sadness. The present was pain. He roamed about like a shadow, like the shell of a man with the soul burned out. How could he live without his lady? How could he live without his dream, the ​dream which he had lost and which was more precious than life itself.
Then one day a strange decision came to him. It was a semi-mad delusion but he yielded to it. He would journey once more into the winding crooked alleys, into the criss-cross snake-like alleys that wind interminably throughout the Chinese quarter of Canton. Perhaps somewhere in the noise and clamor of the alleys he would find his little lost dream again. It was almost as wild an idea as the search for a vanished sunset or for the fragrance of a dead rose. Still it was better than remaining forever grieving in his garden.
So he wandered out into the alleys and it so happened that in the course of his quest he found little Lee Cheng who, too, was lost. Impulsively he took the little boy's hand. He was a merry little fellow who laughed and chatted incessantly as he capered along beside him. He could give no reason for his presence in those alleys. He was just a little lost China-boy who had been wandering about for days sleeping in dark doorways or under deserted carts. From that moment on Woo Fung commenced to awaken from his despair. Life was sad but it was not yet done.
Lee Cheng took up his residence in the house of Woo Fung as though he had dwelt there always. At night he loved to sit on the wall of the garden, crooning to the moon. The garden seemed to brighten ​now that he had come. The gloom vanished. It floated away like the rose-tipped mists of morning.
"Dreams are real, like sleep or quiet, Or like love or flower-perfume. Dreams ne'er die; they live forever. Forever live the dreams of summer. Winter comes but also summer. Winter dreams still live in summer. Summer dreams last all through winter. Dreams ne'er die; they live forever."
As Lee Cheng sang, Woo Fung stood by the window and listened. Never before had he known such peace as at that moment. And as he listened to the voice of the little singer, he realized that his dream had come back once more to his garden. Hope rose within his breast. He sat down at his bench and commenced to carve a trinket of Jade and as he carved it seemed as though strange lights commenced to flicker throughout the bit of yellow Jade before him. It glowed and shone like a yellow diamond. It was the first time he had ever beheld Jade that glowed in the sunlight. In the garden, Lee Cheng still sang dreamily. What was the strange thing that was reflected in that bit of inanimate stone before him? It seemed to have life. Was it the song of Lee Cheng that had forced its way into the stone? Or was it love, the love which Woo Fung had for the Lady Shun Kao?
​Feverishly he worked. Even until late into the night he carved by the lantern-glow. And all through the night as Woo Fung worked, Lee Cheng sat beneath the willows and sang.
At the first suggestion of dawn the pendant was done. Nothing like it had ever been seen before in China, nor in all the world. Here was Jade that had light, that glistened and glowed. Here was Jade that had been carved of poetry, Jade that held song. Here was Jade that had been wrought of love.
Without pausing even for a rice-cake or a pot of tea, Woo Fung set out for the home of Mu Kao. Early as was the hour the gem-merchant was up. He sat in the Lacquer Room of his house, studying his Jades and ambers. Woo Fung said not a word. He placed the newly carved Jade on the table before Mu Kao. Mu Kao gazed at the glowing glory of it and gasped. He sprang to his feet. He crooned to it. So great was his agitation he drooled at the lips. At that moment he was a pitiful thing to gaze upon, a strong man who was subservient to a bit of stone. For the moment everything in life was forgotten, even the white Jade of old Kung Chia. Everything was shadowed by his glowing stone which he clutched to him.
"It must be mine!" he cried hoarsely. "What is your price?"
Woo Fung shrugged his shoulders. "Am I not as great as Kung Chia?" he asked. "Is not my stone even grander and rarer than his?"
​"You mean you want Shun Kao?" suggested the other craftily.
Woo Fung plucked a red chrysanthemum from a vase and pressed it to his lips. "I might consider it," he said slowly.
"Take her, she is yours," cried Mu Kao, "only let me keep this stone."
Even while they were speaking, Shim Kao entered the room. The room glowed more brightly at her appearance. She was like a wondrous flower. Woo Fung looked at her and smiled. She lowered her eyes. He held out his arms.
"Come," he said simply.
Without hesitation she came to him. After all dreams were as true as sleep or life. Little Lee Cheng was right.
That very day Woo Fung took the lovely Lady to his garden. As they entered the Moon Gate, Lee Cheng was crouched on the wall softly singing:
"I had a dream in azure A gorgeous purple dream. There was soft moonlight, The almond trees were blossoming, A faint breeze stirred the fragrant air. It was the Month of Almonds, Of young love, Of youth and happiness— For it was Spring."