God of Luck Read Online Free

and pants instead of making themselves attractive like brides with powder, elaborate headdresses, and embroidered silks; the ceremony is held at first light when no man is yet abroad; only sworn spinsters and girls like themselves can attend.
    Before my marriage, I’d witnessed two friends, Ah Gum and Ah Lan, make their vows. There’d been such a thick mist that the palms behind Seh Gung’s stone altar had barely been visible, and our every breath had steamed in the chill. Shivering, I’d burrowed deeper into the huddle of witnesses while Ah Gum and Ah Lan, bustling between baskets and altar, unpacked, placed a small statue of the Goddess Gwoon Yum on Seh Gung’s altar, and arranged offerings of wine, rice, and fruit. Then they set out candles and incense and lit them.
    Unlike brides who have someone else transform their girlish bangs and braids into womanly buns, girls who become spinsters ceremonially comb up their hair themselves to signify their independence. For days, I’d watched Ah Lan and Ah Gum practice. Now, as waxy, fragrant smoke from the candles and incense wafted up to Heaven, they each nimbly unfastened their braids, letting loose ribbons of black hair that shone in the flames’ glow.
    Three times they ran their combs from scalp to waist and, in voices smooth and strong as each stroke, asked for Heaven’s blessings: “First comb, comb to the end. Second comb, may my brother enjoy bountiful wealth and many children. Third comb, may my parents and friends enjoy wealth, happiness, and long life.”
    Then, dipping their fingers into a jar of sticky pow fa, they applied just the right amount to hold together their hair for braiding, weaving, and pinning. The final strands and pins in place, they vowed to remain unmarried and pure, sought the blessings and protection of Seh Gung and Gwoon Yum, turned to receive our congratulations. Afterward, we celebrated at a banquet that was paid for by their families and included relatives and neighbors as well as friends.
    The dishes served at such banquets are not costly. But Moongirl’s parents, having spent the last of her savings on a wedding banquet for Ah Lung and myself, could not even purchase the long buns that families pass out as invitations. And although Moongirl, in the silk season just past, had earned enough as a reeler to pay for a banquet, she had other plans for her money.

I WAS WAKENED by a sense of movement and mutterings in the hold, shouts from above. Rubbing away the sleep crusting my eyes, I peered up at the hatch. The grating was gone, and against a star-studded sky was a face too shadowed to make out, a narrow, swift-moving blur that vanished with the unmistakable thwack of a cane, another harsh shout: “Up on deck!”
    Around me, the activity intensified, stirring up particular odors from the general stench. The air scraped my parched throat like sand, and I became aware of the furriness of my tongue, still tender and somewhat swollen, the bitter aftertaste of yesterday’s rice flavored with shrimp paste. I realized the boat was at anchor.
    “Fai-dee-ah, hurry!”
    Someone started up the ladder. Others stumbled after him. Frightened by what awaited us above as well as stiff and sore, I dragged myself upright but made no move to follow.
    From somewhere beyond the boat came a plaintive call, “Ah Jai, son! Ah Jai!”
    Crying, “Ba,” Young Master dashed up the ladder.
    More swiftly than I’d thought possible, his elderly servant likewise disappeared through the hatch, setting off a rush for the ladder, a buzz of speculation. How had Young Master’s father found him? Was he a man of sufficient generosity and influence to secure freedom for the rest of us, too?
    Shoved deep into the hold, I could no longer hear anything except tramping feet, and I fretted that Young Master’s father would only save those he could see, that he and those he rescued would be long gone before I reached the deck. I berated myself for having hung back, I