The Cats Under The Cherry Blossoms

We left the city of Changsha behind hours ago, having only been in China for a day so far. Changsha had been pretty for what little I got to examine it before my mother put me in a rented car and hauled me to the countryside if that’s what you wanted to call it. She swore to me that she had found us the best place to stay at. Changsha hadn’t even seemed real; I couldn’t imagine a place better than that.

           “Aren’t you enjoying your time in China?” my mother, Lauren, asked.

           I didn’t know how to tell her I’d rather be home in New York than somewhere in China. I was home from college for spring break and I had been put on a plane to China rather than to a beach like my friends. It had been my mother’s idea to come to China since in her eyes, it was her duty to show me my culture. My father, Manchu, had been born in China and immigrated to the United States where he met my mother, Lauren, the perfect blonde beauty. He died before I even turned five, leaving me alone in the world with Lauren.

           “I don’t even know Chinese!” I groaned, not even looking at her.

           The part nobody tells you about being Chinese and being raised by a white American woman is that other Asians will assume you at least know Chinese. Countless times at Asian restaurants, waiters would ask me questions in Asian and wait for my response that never came. I only imagined being in China would make that even worse. I doubted they’d even believe me if Lauren said she was my real mother.

           “I’m sure you will learn a phrase or two before we go back to New York.”

           I wanted to hold her to that because deep down I did wish I could embrace my father’s heritage, but it was nearly impossible without him being here. My mother didn’t understand, even though I knew she wanted to.

           When we pulled up to the traditional house, sat in the middle of nowhere, where the owners had turned it into what an American would call a bed and breakfast, I felt uneasy. I insisted to myself that it was the lack of internet and cellphone service and missing my friends. Maybe… even my desire to be on a beach somewhere in Florida.

           “Look at you! Beautiful!” the elderly Chinese woman running the hotel squealed.

           She touched my hair and my mother's glare told me not to complain. The warm smile she gave me was the only welcoming smile I’ve received since arriving in China, so I accepted it graciously. Maybe my mother was right; maybe this was the best place in China.

           There were three things to mention about this hotel: 1.) There were stray cats everywhere. Some of them were friendly, and some of them were not. 2.) There was one other guest, Kai Meng, who seems to be the same age as I am. 3.) Everything about this hotel was a traditional Chinese house. It had only been modified as much as needed. According to the elderly woman who owned it, this place was a tourist attraction during the summer. I just enjoyed seeing the paper panel doors (Shoji as my mother called them) in person.

           Cats meowed as they followed me through the garden begging for my attention. I sat down on the bench letting them rub against my legs, leaving their fur behind. What brought so many cats to a place like this? Had it solely been the care of an elderly woman? Maybe the owner was just one of those crazy old cat people.

           A male voice from behind says something in Chinese. I jumped a little at the sound of his voice. A few of the cats scurried away while a few that were tamer stayed. I turned around and stared at him confused, unsure of what he had just said.

           “They like you,” Kai repeated except in English this time.

           “How long have you been here?” I asked, being nice.

           “For roughly two months. I am investigating Li Shou. Myths say her temple was around here during ancient times. The number of cats confirms that,” Kai answered.

           I gave him a dumbfounded look, unsure of how to reply. Li Shou? That slid off his tongue so easily, almost as if I should’ve known who she was.

           “Do you not know who Li Shou is? How do you live in China and not know who Li Shou is?” Kai asked, judging me.

           “I’m from New York… I don’t even know Chinese. I thought that much was obvious by my extremely white mother and me not understanding you,” I responded hatefully, striking at him like a snake with venom ready on its fangs.

           “The myth is that when the world was created… Gods chose cats to rule the world. Li Shou was the cat goddess. Cats didn’t want to run the world though, they wanted to be relaxed and enjoy the sun. They nominated humans. The gods took away the cats’ power to talk and they stopped ruling,” Kai answered. “It’s a little silly to someone like you, I imagine. Not everybody in China probably knows Li Shou either.

           “So, you’re here investigating ancient Chinese cat gods?” I asked, amused.

           “It’s my job!” He yelled, noticing my amused tone.

           “It sounds to me like you’re digging too deeply into this. The owner of the hotel is an elderly woman, this house has been in her family for generations, and elderly women love cats!” I yelled back, not as loud as him.

           Kai stormed off, not saying anything else. I was relieved he left me in the garden with the cats. The ones that had run away when he emerged, come back. While China might not have been my favorite place to visit, I did enjoy the cats.

*****

           On our third day at the hotel, I started to spy on Kai Meng. Although I found him rude, he was the most interesting thing at the hotel. He never noticed my presence, or if he did, he didn’t want to acknowledge me. I found him in various rooms, staring at various knickknacks the elderly woman (whose name I still hadn’t learned) had collected.

           Everywhere I went, the cats followed me. They followed me so much that I even started to believe in Li Shou. Each time I let the cat goddess enter my thoughts, I cursed myself and blamed Kai Meng. But the cats were different from the cats at home, they seemed to listen to me and watch me.

           “How long are you going to follow me?” Kai finally said at the end of the third day.

           “I’m not following you!” I argued.

           “It’s hard for you to sneak around when the house is extremely open and cats follow you as if your pocket is full of catnip,” He retorted.

           I was quiet for thirty seconds trying to produce a response before I finally gave up. Why did the cats follow me so much compared to my mother or Kai? I didn’t have an answer.

           “So, why are you here? What is your name? If you’re going to stalk me, I at least want to know your name,” Kai interrogates me.

           “My name is Mei Zhao. I’m from New York. My father died before I was five and could even remember him. My mother drug me across the world because she felt like if I were closer to my Chinese heritage, I’d be closer to my father or something,” I answered.

           “Do you feel closer to your father?”

           I almost laughed at the question. How could four days in China make me an expert on my father? I only knew what he looked like because of the photos my mother kept around the house.

           “No,” I responded bluntly. “In fact, I’ve never felt further.”

           By the fountain in the garden, a black cat meowed loudly, gaining both of our attention. It was as if the cat was attempting to speak to us.

           “Why do I feel like that cat is trying to speak to us?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the cat, scared it would run away.

           “Maybe it is,” Kai replied, walking towards the cat.

           The cat meows again, circling the fountain. Kai followed it closely. The cat rears up, pawing at a stone lodged in the fountain as if it were begging us to touch it. Kai gave me an uneasy look as he reached out and pressed the stone. I was prepared to laugh at him and call him silly until the stone did go inward into the fountain.

           The water in the fountain stops moving through the fountain system. The ground around the fountain slides inward exposing a set of old stone stairs that seem centuries old. Almost coordinated, we pulled our phones out of our pockets and turned the flashlight on.

           Kai was the first one that began his descent down the stairs, behind him the cat followed. I stood outside for a moment telling myself it is a terrible idea to follow some guy I just met and a cat down the staircase, but I eventually did go down the stairs.

           “Do you believe the cats here are more than your average stray cats now? They communicate, you just have to listen,” Kai pointed out.

           “Forgive me, but the stray cats in New York hardly pretend I exist,” I responded.

           We walked down the stairs until my legs ached, reminding me how out of shame I really was. At the bottom was a room of darkness that even our flashlights couldn’t illuminate. The cat took the lead, and we followed it into the darkness.

           “This is not how I wanted to spend my spring break,” I announced.

           At the other end of the dark room, was a massive statue of a black cat with jewels wrapped around its neck. Kai examined it with his flashlight, not wanting to leave any stone untouched. He found words inscribed into the wall within minutes.

           “Those who venture further must prepare for the maze,” He transcribed for me.

           “What does that mean?” I asked, cluelessly.

           “It means we have found the temple of Li Shou… Li Shou has also set up an elaborate maze to protect herself and her jewels. We shouldn’t go any further. Maybe this place is better kept a secret,” Kai responded.

           I decided against telling him that I thought Li Shou sounded like an ancient Egyptian pharaoh. I figured he would get defensive if I called her that. The black cat meowed loudly again and sat in front of the statue as if it were trying to get us to look at them both.

           “Don’t you think the cat looks a lot like Li Shou?” I asked.

           Kai looked between both.

           “I see the similarities, but I doubt it. How could a cat live that long? I think they’re just another black cat,” Kai responded, kneeling to pet the cat.

           The cat purred loudly enough that I could hear it from where I was standing before giving us a final meow and heading toward the stairs. We followed not wanting to be left in the temple. Kai didn’t say anything as we climbed the stairs. I was out of breath by the time we reached the top and relieved by Kai’s quietness. He pressed the button again, watching as the fountain returned to what it had been before our findings. Kai gave a small laugh. He didn’t believe what had just happened.

           “I hope you have enough to finally finish your work here,” I said.

           “Enough and more, but again, I think the temple’s location should be a secret place that nobody knows about except the cats. It’s been untouched all this time and everybody here lives a peaceful life,” Kai responded.

           I agreed. The elderly woman running the hotel didn’t need the stress of researchers coming into her home nor did the cats.

           The next day, Kai Meng left the hotel, leaving my mother and me as the only guests. It was our last day before heading back to Changsha. My mother took me to explore local villages and I finally learned how to say “hello, how are you”. And, when we got back to New York, I looked at my father’s photo on the fireplace with a new view. I even made sure to tell all my friends who spent spring break on the beach that I spent spring break off the grid, in China, in spring, with blossoming cherry trees.