The Farewell Medallion

Chapter 2

Nineteen sixty-seven was the Year of the Sheep, a year of uncertainty and a year of mistrust.  The assault of the Red Guard stormed toward the Yangtse.  Gray coats swung red armbands in unison to a malicious chorus from Chairman Mao’s sacred teachings.  Institutions of ancient learning were sacked to rid them of purported capitalistic tendencies.

For young Li-Jung Han the year of the sheep was a year of change, a year of tragedy and a year of enchantment.  A magic season was dawning.  Li felt this magic as he watched his grandfather “old Ching” scribe the intricate detail into the gold medallion.  He saw the experience of long years as an artisan for the emperor in each careful movement of the narrow sinewy fingers.  He watched the spirit of humanity enter the work as the old man bit into the long-stemmed bamboo pipe and squinted through his narrow wire-rimmed glasses.

The change began five months earlier when the Han family fled the Communist mainland to seek a new life in Hong Kong.  Li’s Uncle Wo had narrowly escaped the wrath of the revolution in nineteen forty-nine.  Since then, Wo had worked eighteen years on the Hong Kong waterfront to save enough money to hire a mercenary sea merchant to go back for his sister and her family.  The mercenary and his cargo of eight refugees, locked in the rotting bilge, risked deadly reprisal if discovered during their four-day coastal voyage, disguised as a fishing vessel.

The journey that began with promise turned to disaster.  Before they reached the mouth of the Yangtze, rats had gnawed through the baskets that contained their supply of food.  The next morning a large wave broke over the bow, shattered the hatch and flooded the compartment, contaminating their supply of drinking water.  Devastated by hunger, thirst and shivering dampness the sea cast them relentlessly about in the dark compartment.

Li wished for a huge wave that would destroy the boat and end the anguish of his family as he witnessed the hunger and sickness on the trip for which they were ill prepared.  Between dysentery attacks, Li saw a vision of Li-Jung Tzu, the healer/philosopher, who lived 800 years ago and after whom Li was named.  “The mallet that shapes your inner being is severe,” the mystic said.  “Let go of the weaknesses that must be driven out and do not yield to the temptation to escape with them.”

So much had happened since then that it was like a different world.  The world of Hang Chou, Li’s birth city and home for the first eight years of life, seemed gray and lifeless compared to Hong Kong.  Of course, an island with a name that means “fragrant harbor” would have to be a world of myth and legend.  Dragons coexisted with streetcars while the ghost of an emperor’s daughter played freely with uniformed children on British school grounds.

In their first home, a floating shanty in the little Hong Kong that the British called Aberdeen, there was not enough room for everyone to sleep at the same time.  Li was glad when Uncle Wo talked to a business associate, Mr. Harry Tam, about renting a small shop near the heart of Hong Kong.  The Central District was a blend of dazzling neon, bamboo scaffold, rickshaw, Rolls Royce, modern high-rise and narrow cobbled streets.

The building at 54 Yu Hing Lane looked as if it had been fitted into the twelve-foot space between two larger buildings with a very large pry bar.  It contained a tiny retail shop facing the street with a workspace in the back and a sleeping room and cooking area above.  Li’s three older brothers and father went to work every day for Uncle Wo, unloading ships at the Ocean Terminal to pay the rent.

When his mother, Jae-Soo told him he was too small and it was too dangerous for him to work at the docks, Li threatened to run away.  He wanted to help support his family and not be a burden.

Observing this, Old Ching took him aside.  “Let me show you something,” he said as he opened the huge trunk that had made the journey with them.  The lid folded back to reveal a deep blue silk lining.  He drew back the cover to display a large assortment of yellow handled tools each fitted into its own indented silken niche.  Li gasped in awe of the assortment of tiny drills, cutters, burnishers, crimpers, scribes and engravers.

Old Ching lifted out the first shelf to expose another equally as fascinating.  He reached in and held up a scribe and a small brass hammer.  “Each one has its own special purpose,” he said.  “This will be the way of the future for the Han family.  I need you to help me set up the workspace so we can make gifts that your sister Jin-Jin will sell in the shop.  It will be your purpose to learn the skills of the jewelry maker.”

Li beamed.  Yes, he thought, my special purpose will be to fashion adornment suitable for royalty.

To honor the formal beginning of Li’s apprenticeship and to celebrate the family’s new life of freedom, old Ching chose a set of four uniquely linked medallions for his first project in their new home.  Each became a detailed representation of one of the four aspects of life that the teacher Li-Jung Tzu said was essential for the realization of total being.

Li pumped the bellows that fired the torch in Old Ching’s hand.  He thought of all he had learned since that day when they began the first medallion.  Each day after school he assisted in the shop from two until five.  Then, during a short training session the old man would cradle the small hand in his, imparting the sensitivity needed to transmit feelings of the heart into an icon of gold.  Li was an intense student learning each skill and its place in the craft.

Old Ching rocked back on two legs of his stool, pulled at the swollen joints of his fingers and held the medallion toward the open door.  Li watched closely as Ching peered over his glasses letting the light dance across the ornate surface.  “It is good, nearly finished.  Perhaps you would like to put the pattern around the edge.”

Li stepped back.  “O-Ooh!”  The thought boggled his young mind with amazement of what he had heard.  Even though he had practiced the pattern each day in scrap copper, the idea of working on something this important was frightening.  “It is so-o beautiful, I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry.  You will do just fine.”  Old Ching replaced the medallion back in the wax-covered wooden base, selected the appropriate design stamp and handed him the tiny hammer.  Tentatively Li began.

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Yu Hing Lane, short and narrow, lay at the edge of activity.  Perpendicular to Queens Road Central it rose steeply to the market street of Upper Lascar Row.  One street beyond, the give and take of shopkeeper and bargain hunter buzzed continuously in the string of antique, curio and art shops on Hollywood Road.  A faint scent of incense drifted down from nearby Man Mo Temple dedicated to the Taoist gods of war and literature.  Each evening business men and women made their way up the hill from Sheung Wan Station and passed by the Han gift shop en route to local shops before continuing home.

Li was fascinated by the energy of this vibrant community.  After dinner, time and studies permitting, he would often sit on the steps that descended from the living area above the shop directly onto the street.  He had developed adeptness for recognizing potential gift shop customers and had a knack for encouraging them to stop and look.

After his first day of working directly on the medallion he hurried down to the shop.  He would look again at the display that featured the completed group of three before taking his place on the steps.  He pressed his nose to the glass of the locked display case admiring the exhibit, proud to be a small part of it.

Jin-Jin looked up from where she was hand lettering greeting cards with precisely placed flowing brush strokes.  “You’re not leaving marks on the glass, are you?  I’ve polished that case five times today.”

Li stepped back and rubbed the glass with his shirttail.  “There aren’t any marks.  I want to figure out the meaning of the characters around the border of the design.”

Jin-Jin laughed.  “Old Ching alone knows the complete meaning.  Too much of the old country rules his thoughts.  According to him it will only be revealed at the proper time.”

Li folded his arms stiffly across his chest, standing as if he were about to defend the gate to the palace.  “Grandfather Ching knew the emperor.”

A raspy voice came from behind.  “Ah, but in Hong Kong, the emperor is a thing of the past.”

Li spun around to see Mr. Tam’s puffy smile as the landlord entered the shop swinging his gold handled cane.

“Where might I find your father, the itinerant Yunsheng?” he asked.

Li acknowledged Mr. Tam with a curt bow.  “One moment.”  He turned and walked with a semblance of detached compliance until around the corner then dashed up the stairs as fast as his feet would carry him to tell his father, who was not quite finished with dinner after a long day at the docks.  Yunsheng nodded, stood and took another sip of his tea before reluctantly going to face the inevitable confrontation.

Li started to follow, his curiosity showing.  Jae-Soo redirected his efforts by handing him a broom to sweep the floor.  By the time he finished, escaped his mother’s watchful eye, made his way down the steps, and sat down behind the wall, the traditional Chinese pleasantries of opening conversation had ended.

Li listened to Mr. Tam’s voice rise in pitch as he shouted, “I only rented this place as a favor to your wife’s brother, against my good judgment to rent to communist minions.”

“I am truly sorry Mr. Tam.  My sons and I work very hard each day at the docks.  I will have your money at the end of the week.”

“So, Yunsheng, how is it that you have money to buy gold and no money for my rent this month?”  He tapped his cane rhythmically against the display case.

“We need supplies to create merchandise that will attract new customers.  I’m sure you are aware of the cost and difficulties in a new business.”

“Bullshit!  Do not speak to me about good business practices.  Is it good business not to be paid for such a valuable piece of property?  I am not responsible for the increase in property values.”

“I said I would –“

“No!”  Tam slammed his cane against the counter.  “Three days – three days or – or I will take these gold pieces as rent.”

Li wanted to run after him as he stomped away from the shop.  “He will never have the medallions,” he said under his breath.  “I would throw them into the sea first.”