The phoenix found its place.
A Wing on the Roll
Madam Qiao noticed the white feather before she saw the rest of the bird.
It curved across the outside of a roll of golden brocade, where it lay between two blue fabrics on Yun’s shelf.
“May I see that one?” she asked.
Yun lifted the roll down and placed it on the table. Her assistant, An, cleared away a cup of tea and a small pair of scissors.
Madam Qiao touched the feather with one finger.
“I’m looking for a covering for a folding screen,” she said. “It will stand in our family room.”
“What size is the screen?” Yun asked.
Madam Qiao opened her bag and produced a folded piece of paper. On it were the height and width of each panel, written in a careful hand.
An studied the numbers.
“Is the handwriting yours?” he asked.
“My husband’s.”
“It’s very clear.”
“He wrote it twice. The first time, he measured the door.”
Open It Slowly
Yun and An carried the roll to a wooden stand. Yun held one end while An turned the roll slowly.
A second feather appeared, then a third. Madam Qiao moved closer as a broad white wing emerged against the gold.
“Oh,” she said.
An turned the roll again. A long neck, a bright eye, and a curling crest appeared above the wing.
“A phoenix,” Madam Qiao said.
Its tail followed, spreading across the lower part of the cloth. Blue flowers and pale clouds filled the spaces around it.
Yun fastened the cloth over the stand. The bottom edge pooled on the floor.
“It’s beautiful,” Madam Qiao said.
An held up the paper with the measurements.
“If the screen opens all the way, we could place the bird in the centre.”
“And when it folds?” Madam Qiao asked.
Yun marked the edges of the panels with lengths of thin string. She moved the first string across the phoenix’s wing, then placed the second near its neck.
Madam Qiao watched.
“Would the head disappear into that fold?”
“It might, depending on how far the screen is closed.”
An moved the string.
“Now its head is clear.”
“And its tail?” Yun asked.
An looked down. The second string crossed the tail feathers.
“The head has done rather well,” he said.
The Fold
They tried the phoenix farther to the left. Its tail was easy to see, but one wing reached beyond the marked edge.
They tried it to the right. The wing fit, but the head sat very close to a fold.
Madam Qiao walked to the doorway.
“From here, the first one looked better.”
Yun moved the strings back. An held one side of the cloth while she adjusted the other.
“Now?” Yun asked.
“The head still troubles me.”
“Shall I move it again?” An said.
“Just a little.”
He moved the string.
“A little the other way.”
An moved it back.
Yun looked over her shoulder. He was standing with one foot against the stand, both hands full of cloth and string.
“Would you like me to take that side?”
“I’m comfortable.”
The stand creaked.
“I think the stand would like you to take it,” Madam Qiao said.
They exchanged places. An walked to the doorway beside Madam Qiao and looked at the cloth from there.
“Do you usually open the screen all the way?” he asked.
“Not often. In the afternoon, we leave it partly open so the light can reach my mother’s chair.”
“How far open?”
Madam Qiao lifted her hands to show them, then changed her mind and moved them a little farther apart.
“About that much. Unless my husband has moved the chair.”
“Where does he move it?” Yun asked.
“Closer to the tea.”
“That seems reasonable,” An said.
From Here
Yun set a small folding sample on the table. Together, they bent its three panels to match the position Madam Qiao had described.
An marked the folds on the brocade again. This time, the phoenix’s head remained visible on one panel, while its tail curved across the next.
Madam Qiao pulled up a stool and sat down.
“Is that where your mother sits?” Yun asked.
“A little farther to the left.”
An moved the stool. Madam Qiao looked at the cloth.
“And lower,” she added.
An looked at the stool.
“My mother is shorter than I am,” she explained.
He found a cushion for the floor. Madam Qiao sat on it, and the phoenix rose above her against the golden cloth.
Yun waited while she looked. An held the stand steady.
“At home,” Madam Qiao said, “the afternoon light will come from this side.”
Yun opened the nearby shutter. Sunlight crossed the cloth and caught on the white feathers.
Madam Qiao smiled.
“That’s the place.”
Yun marked the chosen position with a loose thread. There would be time to measure it once more before any cutting began.
An looked from the phoenix to the folding sample.
“Is it in the centre?”
Madam Qiao stood and brushed her skirt.
“From my mother’s chair, it is.”
They helped her to her feet. An folded the sample screen and put away the string, while Yun rolled the brocade carefully around its wooden pole.
Only one white feather remained visible on the outside.
Madam Qiao touched it again.
“That’s the part I saw first.”
“And now you know where the rest is,” An said.
“I hope so.”
Yun held the roll steady while he tied it.
“We’ve marked the place,” she said.
“Good. My husband may measure the chair next.”
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