by Shalini Sridhar
Nina Hargrove heaved a huge sigh of relief. Her hard work and dedication had finally paid off. She had just finished translating The Lost Cherry Blossom into English, the last book by the renowned Chinese author Li Wenhao before he passed away. It had taken her months to coordinate the precise translations, while working closely with the author’s Chinese publishing company and the author’s estate on the edits.
Her editor had called her earlier that day to say everything looked perfect. She had already scheduled Nina for multiple rounds of book announcements and signings at various libraries and bookstores across the city.
“If this becomes really big, maybe I can take that dream vacation I have always wanted,” she smiled to herself as she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. The reflection showed a young girl in her 30s with long hair and brown eyes.
Just then, her phone pinged—indicating an incoming message. It’s probably Aron congratulating me, she mused, sliding off the couch where she’d been lounging and reaching for the phone.
Just then she heard a sound. She looked up at her door. Somebody was in the corridor. She stopped listening. As she stood there, she could see the doorknob turning slowly. Somebody was trying to get in. Fear spiked as she began to breathe faster. “Who is it?”, she tried to say, but her voice didn't come out. The knob rattled. Just as she was backing away, the lock clicked open. She ran and opened the large window behind her sofa and climbed out. As she swung one foot over the ledge, she heard the man enter the apartment. She lost her footing, falling to the ground.
Thanking her stars that she lived on the first floor, she hit the ground with a thud. Looking up she got a brief instant of his face looking down. Trembling she got up and ran for help. Spotting a couple taking a late-night stroll, she rushed up to them and begged them to call the police—she was being robbed.
_
When the police finally arrived, they went up to her apartment, but by then the thief had vanished. She was escorted back inside by a female police officer to point out if anything valuable was missing. The house was a mess—drawers pulled out; sofas turned over. But as she looked around, she didn’t immediately notice anything until she realized, her copy of The Lost Cherry Blossom was gone.
“The book…” she mumbled. “I’m sorry, ma’am. What book?” the deputy in charge inquired.
“The book—The Lost Cherry Blossom. I’m a translator. I just finished translating Li Wenhao’s book into English. That was the first copy the editor had sent me.”
Why would he steal the book? she wondered, as the deputy and the other officers went from room to room checking the apartment.
Finding nothing else missing, they returned to the living room. “Do you want to file a report?” one of them asked.
“Yes,” she said, but whispered softly to herself, “Why did he want that book?”
Once the formalities were done, the officers left one by one. The deputy—a swarthy, middle-aged man—came up to her.
“As we see it, ma’am, there doesn’t seem to be anything valuable missing. We’ll go ahead and file this, but it’s highly unlikely he’ll come back again. I’d recommend fixing that door and getting some new locks,” he said as he stepped out.
She needed to figure this out... but just not tonight. She went to spend the night at a motel.
__
The next morning, Nina quickly showered, changed into fresh clothes, and headed out. She walked up to the police station and asked to see the deputy in charge. The swarthy man from the night before came out.
“Yes, Nina—isn’t it?” he asked as he walked toward her and gestured her toward a waiting room.
“At the moment, we don’t have any concrete evidence as to why you were targeted.”, he said as he indicated a chair for her to sit. "We think it could be because of your book. We’ve got a copy here after talking to your editors. Perhaps you can let us know what you think?” he asked, drawing up a chair beside her as he handed her the book.
“I have no idea, honestly,” she said as she took the book. As she turned the pages one by one, she came across a page where Li Wenhao had written a quote in Chinese that Nina had translated:
To my dearest Great Granddaughter – Su Lee
To the best of secrets we hold beneath the gems of Navratna, where lanterns glow as cherry blossoms softly fall. Journey across the seven seas, and through thirty days and nights to the gates of Heaven where the heart calls out to the red dragon under the golden sun.
She read this out softly to herself. The deputy was looking intensely at her. “Does that mean anything to you?”, he asked.
She didn’t answer, but as she thought back, she remembered asking the author's estate about its meaning. They had told her that Li Wenhao had a gift for writing beautiful poems about springtime in China and the memories of where he spent his childhood.
She looked up. “Do you think Wenhao was trying to tell us something here?”
Then, suddenly, she said. “Deputy, doesn’t Navratna mean nine gemstones? Nav means nine in Sanskrit, and Ratna means gems, right?”
“Hmmm… We have received intel that an international jewel thief has been spotted in the city. Based on the description you gave of your attacker last night, we have reason to believe it could be him”, said the deputy.
“An international jewel thief?! In my apartment? That’s unbelievable!”
“He calls himself The Gentleman. He is well educated, rich and mostly an upstanding citizen, but with just one flaw. He can’t resist heists. Now what we want to know is why did he target you and take that particular book? We also believe the clue lies in that poem.”
Nina didn’t speak for a few seconds as she slowly digested this information. “Then let me help. When I interviewed Wenhao’s family they used to describe his love for poetry, the beauty of his childhood home in the village and love of collecting many rare things. His great granddaughter used to say her grandmother loved solving clues and riddles that her father, Wenhao, used to set for her as a child. Usually, it was like a treasure hunt where it ended with a sweet treat or a beautiful flower he had picked for her.”
Suddenly the door opened, an officer walked in. “We got some information, Chief”, he said as he handed him a sheet of paper and whispered a few words in his ear. The paper showed a photo of an urn with traditional Chinese designs. At the center was an elaborate red dragon with jade green eyes gazing upwards towards a yellow circle.
Once the officer left the room, the deputy turned towards her. “Nina, we also did some digging ourselves. We know The Gentleman is after rare artifacts and he cannot resist anything with history. The photo you see here is a 10th century urn from the Song Dynasty. That was the time Chinese art flourished. It could be quite possible that Li’s ancestors owned this urn, and it was passed on through the generations. During the war, it got lost but it could be that Li was in possession of this urn and enjoyed its beauty in secret. You said it was his last book? Maybe he intended to finally reveal his secret.”, he said. “You have been working closely with Wenhao’s family in helping to translate the book. Can you think of anything that might help?”
Nina nodded. “Then this could be the clue. What if he had hidden coordinates in this poem? Look…. here we already got 9!”, said Nina excitedly.
“Yes, that could be it,” said the deputy as he pulled his chair closer, opened a notepad, took out a pen, and wrote down the poem:
To the best of secrets we hold beneath the gems of Navratna, where lanterns glow as cherry blossoms softly fall. Journey across the seven seas, and through thirty days and nights to the gates of Heaven where the heart calls out to the red dragon under the golden sun.
“Ok so we got 9,” he said as he wrote it down. I also see seven seas, so that’s 7,” he said as he wrote 7 next to the 9.
“Thirty days,” Nina said. “We have 30.”
“So now we have 7, 9, 30…”
Nina quickly took out her phone and searched on her phone. Tianmen Mountain is called Gates of Heaven and is located at approximately 29.04° N latitude and 110.45° E longitude.
“Ok let’s write it down…. 7, 9, 30, 29, 110,” the deputy said. Does this make sense?”
“We need to write this as a coordinate of latitude and longitude”, said Nina. They tried different combinations and looked at the map. Finally, after about a couple of hours poring over the map, they came up with 30° 7’ N, 110° 9’ E. It pointed to Yinchuan, China.
“I need to get this message across to the Chinese authorities. If we were able to figure this out, I bet The Gentleman did too,” he said as he stood up. “Thanks for your help. We will keep you updated,” he added, opening the door to signal that the meeting was over.
Nina had no choice but to thank the deputy and walked out.
----
After a few days, she got a call back. It was the deputy.
“Nina? We got him. The Gentleman,” he said.
“That’s great, Deputy,” Nina heaved a sigh of relief. “What about the urn?”
“With the help of the Chinese authorities, we managed to locate it in the coordinates we deduced. It had pointed to an old, abandoned house in the property belonging to the Wenhao family. The urn was valued at $5 million. “
Nina gasped. “It was turned over to its rightful owner - Li’s great granddaughter Su Lee.”
“That is wonderful, deputy. Thank you for letting me know,” said Nina.
“Thank you Nina. Best of luck,” said the deputy as he cut the call.
The discovery of the urn was broadcasted all over the world. Sales of the book, The Last Cherry Blossom spiked for months. Nina was never happier. All was well in the world.
After some time had passed, one day she got a call. It was Su Lee.
“Thank you, Nina,” Su Lee said softly over the phone. “You helped our family, and I am so happy to be in possession of this beautiful urn my great-grandfather left me.”
“I’m so happy for you, Su Lee,” Nina said, smiling.
“We just have one request,” Su Lee said hesitatingly. “That is, if you’re okay with it.”
“Yes, of course. Please tell me,” Nina replied, curious to know what it could be.
“We just discovered a manuscript that our great-grandfather had written, hidden in the attic when we renovated. It looks like a novel that was never published. We would love for you to translate it into English and help publish it in both languages. Of course we can pay you the asking price.”
Nina drew in a deep breath. “Yes Su Lee! I would love to! When can we begin?”
“That’s wonderful. I will be in touch. Thank you again,” said Su Lee as she disconnected. Nina was ecstatic.
A couple of days later, she got the copy of the manuscript. Immediately she got to work translating it. A few weeks later she finally finished it.
It was a beautiful story of a small boy who tended a farm with his grandparents in the early 1920s. It was titled – The Secrets of Life. Like the book she had recently translated, Wenhao had written a poem in the beginning. It read:
A beauty multiplied. Misused by many. Hidden in the depths of earth, sparkling brighter than the stars, dressed like a rainbow.
Nina had been wondering what this could have meant. Did Wenhao hide more secrets? She went back to the poem in The Lost Cherry Blossom. Could this be connected?
She called Su Lee to ask her.
“I am not sure. But I remember the bedtime stories he used to tell me about the Red Dragon and how he used to eat precious stones and spit out a rainbow fire,” she replied.
“Perhaps this could be connected to Navratna!”, Nina exclaimed. “Su Lee, did you recently renovate any fireplaces? she asked.
“Yes, but we did not find anything there,” she replied. “But if I am able to find the original layout plans of this house, I can check if there were any hidden or buried fireplaces.”
A few weeks later, Su Lee called. “Nina! I was able to find a hidden fireplace which was boarded over. There was a small box with an enamel inlay of a red dragon breathing rainbow fire. Inside were nine precious gemstones! The Navratna!”
The mystery was finally solved. Thanks to Wenhao’s clues, the Navratna and the historic urn were both unearthed. Su Lee donated both of them to the National Museum of China. “Let the world enjoy their beauty,” she had announced.
Li Wenhao’s books rose in popularity and so did Nina’s name in literary circles.
One day, she stepped into a coffee shop and spotted the deputy. “Nice work, Nina,” he said. “Thank you, deputy,” she said as she sat down opposite him.
“You seem to be good with puzzles. Why not write your own book?”, he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“You know....,” she said, a slow smile spreading on her face. “I think I just might,” she replied.
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