“Stop!” he bellowed. “Don’t move!”
She froze, her foot extended before she could smudge the Goddess’s cheek. He scrambled backward, climbing awkwardly on rocks and brush as he moved closer to her without ever stepping on the sand.
“Why would you do that?” he asked as he worked his way near.
“I did not mean to cause any harm. Tomorrow it will be gone.”
“I know!” he cried. “How long have you been here?”
She looked at the sky as if she could judge the time. She could not. It had been sometime in the afternoon when she started. It was early evening now.
“I did not do much damage,” she said, praying it was true. “It was a game.”
“A game?” he said as he gestured to the expanse. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It was astonishing.” Then he reached out toward her. “Don’t ruin it, please.”
She pulled her foot back such that she stood on the goddess’s smudged shoulder, unable to fathom his urgent tone. “These are footprints made in sand,” she said. “They cannot be ruined. They are nothing.”
His frown pulled his whole body tight as his gaze darkened beneath heavy brows. “It isbeautiful. I watched you for the last hour or more. It was like you danced!”
Danced? “I crawled.” Her dress was heavy with wet.
“And jumped and slid. You didn’t even use a stick. Just your body and look what appeared.” He shook his head as if he had never imagined such a thing. “A painting in sand.”
She did not know what to say to him. She had been playing, nothing more, and yet he seemed to prize it as if it were a jewel set in the sun. “It is marks on the ground.”
He dropped his hands onto his hips and slowly shook his head. “I do not understand you,” he said.
On that they completely agreed because she had no understanding of the things that moved this man. So she stood there, folded her hands before her, and dropped her head.
She heard him curse, and she felt the squiggles tighten inside her gut. No matter what she did, she seemed to enrage him.
“Miss Na,” he began, then another muttered curse. “What should I call you?” he asked. “What is your name?”
“Li-Na,” she answered.
“Do I call you Miss Na?”
She frowned at him. “I am Li-Na.”
“Yes, I understand that, but I am trying to show you respect. In your language, what would I call you?”
The man asked the strangest questions. “Li-Na.”
“In English, we use surnames. First names are only for people who are intimate.” He winced and corrected himself. “I mean, who are good friends.”
She knew this, but she didn’t know what he wanted to hear. “I have no other name.” Except Abacus Woman or Abacus Lady. Those were terms the men at the Lyon’s Den had for her.
He nodded and seemed to come to a decision. “Perhaps I am being silly. If you agree, I will call you Li-Na because I hope we can become friends.”
He was her employer. He could call her whatever he wished. But since he seemed to want it, she dipped her head in agreement.
“So, Li-Na, how can you come out of there without destroying your creation? It’s a woman lying in repose, yes? But what is this fuzzy line here?”
“That is a cloud. I tried to create the Goddess Yao Ji as she rests beside the Wu Gorge on the Yangtze River.”
He tilted his head. He was not in the best position to view this, but then the best position would be hanging in the air halfway out to sea.
“Can you come to the side? Without damaging her any more?”