“But Grandpa,” said Lanlan, her face
pinched with fright, “there’s no reasoning
with the Red Guards. They won’t listen.”
“Who said anything about reasoning
with them?” Grandpa pointed at the ances-
tral portrait lying on the worktable. “You
do remember how our ancestor saved this
painting when the Taiping fanatics came
to his door?”
Xinxin jolted at Grandpa’s reminder,
their ancestor’s actions instantly leaping to
mind. How the ancestor obediently shattered
his prized ceramics collection before the mob... so they wouldn’t notice the portrait he’d
hidden beneath the floorboards.
“He distracted them,” cried Xinxin,
grasping his grandfather’s plan, “and we can
do the same to the Red Guards!”
“Exactly,” said Grandpa. “That tactic
worked a century ago, and it will work
again now.”
PERCHED ON THE roof of his house to
keep watch, Xinxin felt his blood freeze
when he glimpsed the Red Guards. Clad
in military green with their distinctive red
armbands, ten youths descended single
file from the mountains like a slithering
viper. Quickly, Xinxin scrambled down
and dashed to the herb garden behind the
house. “They’re here! They’re here! But—
you’re not done?”
Didi scowled as he and Ma finished dig-
ging out a flowering osmanthus bush and
placed it beside a similarly uprooted shrub.
“We will be. Get the portrait.”Xinxin nodded and sprinted to Grandpa’s
house. Meanwhile, the squad had reached
the valley and was yelling at his relatives in
the fields. His kin would stall as long as they
could, but time was running out.
He burst inside. “They’re—”
“Here.” Grandpa tied one last knot
and thrust the scroll case at Xinxin. Now
wrapped in layers of oilpaper, the case and
portrait within would be well protected
against the dampness of the ground.
If it got into the ground in time.
“I’ll delay them,” said Grandpa. “Go!”
Grandpa headed toward the fields while
Xinxin returned to the garden. A narrow
trench was waiting, and he, Ma, and Didi
lowered the parcel in. As Ma and Didi
grabbed their spades, Xinxin climbed back
to the roof and gasped.
In those few minutes, the squad had
rounded up everyone in the fields. Grandpa
tottered down the footpath toward them,
but from the way the youths glared, he
wouldn’t distract them long.
Below, Ma and Didi hurried to replant
the osmanthus. Xinxin watched helplessly.
The shrubs had to look perfect to avoid
attention, and he’d only get in the way. The
most he could do was follow Grandpa and
try to stall the Red Guards further, but they
were already so close, right by Ba’s lotus
patch—
The lotus patch!
Xinxin sprang down. “Ma, how much
more time do you need?”
“Three minutes—no, two!”36