Chinese Cinderella and the Secret Dragon Society Read Online Free

keeping my eyes down. The front page of a copy of China Daily landed at my feet. Another headline proclaimed: ‘A Second Pearl Harbor? British forces collapse in Singapore after only one day of fighting.’
    Motor cars, trams, pedicabs, rickshaws and bicycles whizzed by. I was caught up in the life of the street, but belonged nowhere. A father and daughter dressed in rags crouched on the pavement. Around the child’s neck was a sign: ‘FOR SALE! My name is Luo Ying. I am eight years old.’ For a second our eyes met and the girl thrust her thin dirty hands into my face. I pulled away and ran down an alley, the blood pounding in my ears. Had the world gone mad?
    Without thinking about where I was going, I ended up outside Big Aunt’s flat. How could Father have done this to me, his daughter? And Mama - why did she have to die? I couldn’t see through my tears. How fast fortune changes! Yesterday, I was still the lucky child enjoying an acrobatic show in the park…
    Acrobatic show! I remembered the card given to me by the boy acrobat. I plunged my hand into my pocket, dizzy with relief.
    LONG XIA HUI
Dragon Society of Wandering Knights
Martial Arts Academy
Plaza in Du Mei Gardens
and
2200 Avenue Petain, Shanghai
We help the oppressed and downtrodden.
We show the Too (way) to those who are lost.
Martial Arts. Judo. Karate. Boxing. Kickboxing. Acrobatics.
Chinese classics. Poetry. Calligraphy. Brush Painting. Music.
    With a rush of hope, I sprinted into the park.
    It was completely deserted. Yesterday’s stage had been removed and the acrobats had vanished. I felt limp. This was bad. Very bad. Big Aunt was gone, the acrobats were gone. For a fleeting moment I considered creeping back to Father’s house and begging him for forgiveness, but the thought of Niang overwhelmed me with dread. Perhaps it would be better to end the misery and die.
    I looked at the sycamore tree next to me, searching for a foothold to climb to the top and jump to my death. But there, near a clump of leaves, I saw a row of ants struggling up a slippery rock face. The ants’ determination gave me courage. If the ants could survive, so could I.
    For a long time I sat in silence, trying to picture Big Aunt’s expression when she first taught me the proverb: ‘ Bai zhe bu nao! () Stick to your goal despite a hundred setbacks.’ I was far away in my thoughts when I heard a gardener clipping the lilac bushes nearby.
    ‘Where’s your mother?’ he said. ‘It’s not safe for a little girl to be hanging around a park byherself. Don’t you know there’s a war going on?’
    ‘Actually, I was looking for the acrobats who performed here yesterday. Are they coming back today?’
    ‘Their permit only allows them to perform in the Plaza three times a year. Their next appearance will be during the Dragon Boat Festival in a few months’ time.’
    ‘Where can I find them?’ I couldn’t conceal my disappointment.
    He shrugged. ‘How would I know? Shanghai is a big place. They could be anywhere…’ Then he saw my tears. ‘Now, now! Don’t cry. Tell you what. Occasionally, I’ve seen those boys working at a bookstall in the bazaar behind that row of tall trees. Why don’t you see if they’re there today?’
    In the bazaar, hawkers were selling toys, delicate papercuts, crickets, birds in cages, fans, fireworks, stick incense, fruits, ice cream, preserved plums, dates, even dried squid and herbal medicines from makeshift stands. I was overwhelmed by the smells and colours, the hustle and bustle of buying and selling and bargaining. Finally I spotted the bookstall. A white-haired woman was arranging hundreds of new and used kung fu novels on racks that resembled window shutters. A sign said:‘Martial Arts Academy () and Bookstall. Books for sale or loan’.
    I chose a book, Warriors from the Marsh of Mount Liang, sat down and flipped open the pages. Printed in black and white on cheap ricepaper, it told the story of a group of idealistic men who