Ch.3

-London smiled the stem rising from the cup and gently took a sip. The tea was strong, the rough bits of lose leaves stung her tongue. It was an oddly relaxing feeling: the strong flavor, the instant heat. She admired the cup in her hands. It was her favorite: the tiny handles spiraled this way and that, and the gold leafing on the edges of the brim were faded and old. She admired the designs painted around the body, pink and white. There was a magical feel to and English teacup.

-London put her tea bag on the tray and fell onto a pillow. A dull emotion resonated in her. She couldn't identify it, but it buzzed like the vibrations of a broken carriage on a bubmby road, inside of her. A knock sounded at her door. Instantly, a violent mood overcame her. She took the dandle lamp beside her bed in her hand in defense. A small sound was outside the door, then nothing.

-London really wanted to do something with the lamp now that she was holding it, but wasn't sure what, so she set it back. Cautiously, she stepped out of bed and to her door. She stood alert as she peeked outside, ready to smash at her brother with only her bare hands. No one was here. She knew no one would come to her without a reason, and looked at the ground. A neat stack of parcels lie before her. She picked them up in her arms. They were dense for their size, but not terribly heavy. She took them back into her room, closing the door with her for as her brother had. She was quite happy she had set down the lamp; she couldn't have carried all of it in one trip.

-She set them on her bed and sat, cross-legged, beside them. She simply looked at them for a long while. She didn't want to open them, but she was curious, and her polite nature told her she should at least look at his gifts.

-Three of the parcels were wrapped in bright red paper and looked very formal. The last was a large box, wrapped with brown paper and string, stamped from all over the world. She hated that Wang went through such trouble.

-She took the silk tea sack her brother left in her room and put it beside her as she took a small red parcel from her collection. She held it in her hands for a moment, her heart racing. She slowly pulled back the paper to uncover a tiny cardboard box. The box was taped, but easy to open and filled with red tissue. Gingerly, London reached into the box and felt around. A loop of bead fell around her hand; she pulled it back, taking the object with her. A small bracelet of round, green bead sat in her palm. It was simple but pretty, the light from the room bounced off its deep color dreamily. London reached back in with her other hand and felt about. Another lumpy object was inside. She drew out a small stone turtle on a fine chain. She loved turtles. It was a perfect gift. Guilt pulled at her spirit—"if they weren't the price to own me, I would love all of this," she said to herself.

-Before she could think on it, she took a long box into her hands. It was slender and curious. She gently unwrapped it and opened the cardboard box under the wrapping. Another layer of red paper danced out from it. A large black hand fan lie delicately on top of the red wrapping. Entranced, London picked it up. The hinge was looser than English fans and it fell open with an impressive thundering sound like a flag whipping in a powerful storm. She jumped a little at the sound and turned to fan toward her. A large ornate dragon in vibrant colors stretched across the fan, snarling regally. In her fascination she nearly for got her disappointment in the situation. She turned the fan in her hand. It was quite large and very impressive. She nearly smiled as she laid it beside her.

-She took the last red box in her hand and unwrapped it . A black cord wrapped around her fingers when she reached int. Out of the crinkles of the paper, she drew a simple black cord necklace, with a small Chinese coin strung on it by the hole in the center. A note fell out with it, folded neatly.

-She unfolded the paper which expanded to and incredibly large size. Her heart skipped as she laid her eyes on the characters. Before she could remind herself that the gift was from China, she realized there was no kana. She grew frustrated, unable to read the calligraphy all over the page. She flipped it over. A nearly printed letter in English was written in the same solid ink.

-London,

-I hope these gifts bring you happy and in good spirits. Take this coin as a hope for your luck until I see you here in China. Much luck and joy should be yours with this

-Wang Yao

-It suddenly reoccurred to London that she would soon be in China, for from all the things she had ever known. She irritably put the note and necklace to the side. She almost didn't open the last package, but thought it would leave a lingering wonder.

-She tore through the string and paper, not interested in the nations it passed by in her aggravation. She felt a bitter hear in her heart where curiosity and happiness usually was. A beautiful red box, tied with golden ribbon and adornments glimmered under the brown wrapping. She was, at the same moments impressed and sickened by the beauty. Why must he have sent her such beautiful things? And why were they all red? Was everything to be red?

-She opened the large box and revealed a thick red book, inlaid with gold designs. She roughly tossed it into the pile. How on earth did he expect her to read Chinese? She couldn't even read his letter let alone this. She turned over on her bed and lied in her pillow.

-Her disappointment in herself and all around her split her in pieces. She didn't want to do anything.

-A sick reality pulled her from the bed—she would be leaving in a week and she needed to be ready. She slid to the floor and reached under her bed. She pulled out a heavy trunk. London looked around her room-not ever thing would fit. In fact, she wasn't even sure what she would need. How long was she going there? Life?

-Overwhelmed, she took the discarded wrappings off her bed and carried them in a ball to the kitchen.