Anywho, let us begin. Questions and comments, fire away!
Chapter 7
Tong... Tong...
She beat the straw bundles several times to ensure they were soft enough for weaving. Four months had passed since the full moon night, the secret, the vow... There was no more need for hiding. Despite holding such a great secret in their hearts, Liu Bei and his mother led their lives on indifferently. Neither of them had spoken of the past ever since. As if to forget about the heartbreaks that simultaneously took place concerning the Luoyang tea...
She struck the bundles a couple more times, a vacant expression on her face. Her eyes were so focused on the work that she did not even realize when Liu Bei walked in.
“Oh, it's you. Already up? It's still early,” she said.
“Mother, today's the day we bring out mats into the market.”
“Oh y-yes, it's today, isn't it?” she stammered a bit, being awakened from her thoughts.
“I will be back before the day's end,” Liu Bei said cheerfully and added, “I'll bring back some dainty foods with the value received.” He walked outside and stocked the horse's back with the load. His mother added concernedly from behind.
“The area has been quite restless lately. Don't make any detours and come straight home afterwards.”
“Yes, mother,” Liu Bei agreed. Off he went, with the mountain to his back. It was late February, but the road was already showing the signs of early spring. Young buds sprout forth their delicate napes in every tree. By the wayside, horseradish and shepherd's purses had fully bloomed to herald the coming king. The earthen hue had washed off to be greener in the last few days. A light breeze teased the horse's mane. It had been a long winter after all.
Liu Bei admired new beginnings. It was a long way from Mulberry to the town, but he arrived on the main square, totally oblivious of time flying. The square bustled with people as usual. “It's always so lively here,” Liu Bei said to himself as he presently arrived at the warehouse that sold manufactured straws by wholesale. The building itself was an unblemished bamboo hut with a thatched roof. He walked in, smelling the hometown.
“Are you in, sir?”
“Come on in! Mulberry's Liu Bei, aren't you? Haven't seen you since the winter fair!¹” the owner welcomed him, his face dripping of good-natured smiles.
“Yes, I have mats for you,” Liu Bei said politely.
“Good deal. Put them over there,” he pointed to a corner as Liu Bei unloaded the mats on a familiar spot.
“Thanks for your hard work, this is yours,” the owner laid a purse on Liu Bei's hand. As Liu Bei left the trading place, an unusual crowd caught his sight. Momentarily, he forgot about mother and the dainty food. He walked up to them. It was a local governmental notice.² The hieroglyphics seemed to have been written hastily. As if being chased, the brush strokes ran hurriedly down the rough paper surface.³ Liu Bei sensed the scent of freshly cut fibers.
‘In the name of Son of Heaven,
We hereby recruit soldiers who will save China.
For Huans' murderous deeds in all provinces have reached the bottom of hell itself...’
“Pardon me, young sire,” a man in a woven hat had caught Liu Bei's attention. He smiled kindly.
“Just wondering if you could tell me what that says – me didn't learn to read as a youngin, hehe,” the farmer said.
“Government officials are looking for soldiers to fight the Huans,” Liu Bei explained.
“Soldiers!” the farmer muttered in disbelief. He stood thoughtfully for a moment and added, “Huh... the age has come where even we farmers must pick up spears and swords to fight.”
“Of course, we want to wipe out Huans as well,” another farmer by his side added. “But what shall we do, as we don't even know how to hold a sword?”
“True,” another nodded in agreement.
“We could probably take care of horses even if it were to help a little bit,” the one in the straw hat encouraged.
“That is true.”
“I'm volunteering. I can't stand those scoundrels no longer.”
“Me neither! I will go with you.”
“Me as well!”
“Yes, faster the better.”
The encouragement he had brought up had a marvelous effect. Within a blink of an eye, the loud bunch broke off, and a majority of them ran off towards the town's main base. Liu Bei was alone again.
“What is becoming of this country?” Liu Bei asked no one.
“Wars were only for soldiers up till now... but now even farmers have to roll up their sleeves to fight?”
Liu Bei stood there, pensively gazing at the notice. Heaven knows for how long. Someone tapped his shoulder, waking him from his lordly musings.
Liu Bei turned and beheld a tall, stout man with his long hair scattering in the spring wind. A long scar on the right side of his face, and another scar on the left side, cross-shaped. He had a beard that grew down to his neckline. Overall a giant of a rough face and an imposing size. Feeling threatened, Liu Bei took a step back as the tall man spoke.
“Long time no see,” he said.
“Who... if I may ask?”
“Don't you remember my face?” he asked, grinning a bit.
“It's hard to say,” Liu Bei answered, a quizzical expression lingering on his face.
“Think you can remember if you saw this sword?” Presently the man's hand went to his left side. Liu Bei panicked a little inside but soon he noticed the royal sword hilt, its golden patterns gleaming at him in the afternoon sun. He exclaimed in disbelief as the memories of last autumn journey rushed back to him. The Huans, the tea, the lady and the rescuer. Standing in front of him was none other than the great loyal Zhang Fei, to whom he owed his life. He bowed, feeling a bit awkward. “I apologize for not recognizing the defender of my life,” he said.
“You don't have to do that,” Zhang Fei waved his hand at Liu Bei's politeness and added, “I didn't have the beard and the scars back then. It would have been hard to recognize, I imagine.” He was good humored, but it seemed that he was eager to move on from formality already. Presently turning to the notice, he said, “That's that. So you've been looking at this notice for a while. What's on your mind?”
Liu Bei didn't want to disclose his visions just yet. There was still much work to do before he revealed himself to the world. He had to keep his innermost thoughts secret until the time came.
“Nothing in particular...” Liu Bei's half-baked answer was short lived, for Zhang Fei cut in with hot temper.
“What!” he exclaimed. “You didn't feel anything after looking at it for that long?”
“Right. I have a single mother. I cannot enlist with my mother being at home alone.”
“Stop lying!” Zhang Fei violently rebuked.
“There's no way that you didn't feel anything after staring at it for so long,” now he was in Liu Bei's face. His excited breath seemed to reach down to Liu Bei's core and ignite that dormant flame of vision. Something stirred deep down. He remained composed.
“This one notice explains this empire's present plight, riding to ruin!” Zhang Fei pointed to the signpost. It was apparent that both of them knew way too well. There was no denying that the land was indeed, riding to ruin.
“Huans' trashy deeds become trashier by dawn...
“Troops without proper reinforcements and weapons have retreated in defeat in every province...
“Heaps of countless bodies with women and children roll around in our countrysides, rotting away as they come...
“Even so, the young emperor doesn't even think about sending more troops, only listening to disloyalties.
“And senior statesmen themselves only pursue their own pleasure, partying by day and night.
Zhang Fei's fury echoed down Liu Bei's soul. He could picture everything too vividly to deny the reality.
“This one sheet of notice,” Zhang Fei pointed, “This one sheet of notice embodies the honest will of many generals who are tired of waiting for the reinforcements that they requested at Luoyang.”
“You can't feel anything while beholding such a chaos in the world?” Zhang Fei inquired. Liu Bei felt his brow sweat.
“The reason why I'm talking to you like this...
“... is because no matter how I see you, you just don't look like another farmer strolling about in rural villages to weave straw mats.
“This sword also,” Zhang Fei laid a hand against the golden sheath. “... is not something a man like me should be carrying.” He undid the sword, and raising it up against the sun, he examined it distantly.
“I've slain many enemies with this in the past few battles.” The prince's sword was being unsheathed as Zhang Fei spoke. The silver gleamed wryly.
“It was not till then when I heard the sword's voice.
“It was crying.”
“...”
“It cried, 'Keep sheathed not, but wield for the world,'” Zhang Fei gazed at the edge, reflecting.
“Listen, this is the sword's cry,” he said as he vigorously split spring wind into pieces around them. Cleaving the currents, that voice clearly sounded like the sword's cry riding on the wind.
“Even so, you still can't feel anything?” Zhang Fei inquired once more. Liu Bei could not continue holding back.
“All right. I will speak of the matter that has been on my mind,” Liu Bei said. “There are too many people coming and going here. Let us move to a quieter area.”
“Let us.”
They found a secluded spot under a deserted roof. Liu Bei spoke.
“I'll tell you the truth. I am a descendant of the Prince Jing of Zhongshan, my blood an heir to Emperor Jing's blood. I've been anxious recently, for chaos and disorder have been spreading all over the country. I had planned on laying down my life for China and its people when the time came.”
Zhang Fei was more than astounded at this answer. He got on his hands and knees hurriedly.
“I had gathered that you were a no mean scholar, but I was not far-sighted enough to see that you were a relative of the Han Empire. Forgive my discourtesy,” he paused for a moment, as if reminiscing.
“This reminds me of the priest's last words that Lady Fu Yung spoke of,” he added and put the prince's sword on the palms of his hands. “I redeliver this sword. This sword shouldn't be borne by a man like me, but the one who will deliver the land. However...” he paused.
“... when you bear this sword, you must be a person who becomes such a sword.”
A silence passed while the wind whistled and the honest eyes met each other.
“Very well. I will accept the sword then,” Liu Bei said, moving with the assured poise. He glanced at the setting sun above the deserted rooftops. Overlapping tiles became tainted one by one as the red glow moved closer to the ground.
“The sun's already sinking,” Liu Bei said. “Since the mother is waiting, I must excuse myself if you please. But when the appropriate time comes, come visit me in Mulberry to lend me your assistance,” he asked politely as he mounted the horse.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, so long.” Liu Bei rode off, driving away the sand behind him. Zhang Fei stood there watching as the rider became invisible in dusk's shadows. Cherry blossom trees behind Zhang Fei were beginning to put forth some reddish buds. The twilight clothed them cerise buttons in tints of orange and red. Zhang Fei's own face was sun-stained with excitement. Better yet, as tall as he was, he looked like a merry tree himself.
“What a noble gentleman,” he said to himself. “My life is worth living after all. I finally found the person I've been looking for.”
“Right, I should tell this to Brother* Yunchang.**”
Zhang Fei was off. The sun had sunk, and the stars drew nearer from the pink eastern sky, but he didn't mind.
He had news to deliver.
* * *
¹ “Fair” here generally refers to a big gathering of merchants. Back in the days, not many merchants had a stationary building to sell their things in. The transactions took place in these important periodic events, where the merchants brought in wagons (in which the products were displayed) and sold things. Imagine Europe's outdoor malls, where people sell things in their wagons. I couldn't find a better term for this. A “fair” doesn't occur just once a season; they can be every three days, five days, a week, etc. But of course, the longer the period between each fair, the bigger the event and the number of participants will be. Many local wagons are most likely to stay in the same place all year. Rare findings and unique products, of course, would be found in bigger fairs. This form of trading still exist today around the world, and the fairs still exist as well in various parts of the world.
² Back then (I'm afraid I will overuse that phrase. Rut-oh! I'm becoming AAA!), government officials used to set up a signpost by the roadside for everyone to see. The contents varied, of course. It could warn them of coming war, or concern changes in policy (more taxes... yay!), etc. You get the idea.
³ Time for paper stories! Asian countries used (and still use in certain occasions, they're now considered a form of traditional art in Korea) brushes to write... Everyone knows that, right? Anyway, every sheet of paper was handmade, processed very carefully and with difficulty. Papers were very very very expensive, and common people dreamed not of using them. After about 610 A.D., they started to differentiate between Korean paper and Chinese paper. Chinese papers were made by cutting up the fibers, and Korean papers were made by pounding them. For the raw materials, paper mulberry trees were used. Making papers in the traditional way is also considered a form of art these days, in Korea at least. Interesting, huh? You will see why if you see a sheet of paper. They're soft and beautiful, but also sturdy and doesn't tear very easily... Well of course, they have cellulose in them!
* Asians have a form of language in which, we pretty much give a title to everyone older than us. For instance, older brothers and sisters would be called “(insert first name here) brother/sister.” But putting the title after the name just sounds weird in English. So I put it first in this particular story. (Still sounds like he's a gang member or something. Anyways,) I also capitalized it to differentiate between the title “Brother” and the noun “brother.” Sidenote: most older people who are not related to you, you call them “(insert last name here) teacher,” or just “Teacher,” even if they're not a teacher. First names are not to be used when calling someone significantly older than you.
** 'Yunchang' here is actually the character's 'zi,' and it means “long clouds.” (You haven't met him yet! Wee!) I thought I should mention this so that no one becomes confused when I refer to this new character with his real name, lol. Everyone: “Huh? Who the heck is this?”
* * *
"Time for paper stories! Asian countries used (and still use in certain occasions, they're now considered a form of traditional art in Korea) brushes to write... Everyone knows that, right? Anyway, every sheet of paper was handmade, processed very carefully and with difficulty. Papers were very very very expensive, and common people dreamed not of using them. After about 610 A.D., they started to differentiate between Korean paper and Chinese paper. Chinese papers were made by cutting up the fibers, and Korean papers were made by pounding them. For the raw materials, paper mulberry trees were used. Making papers in the traditional way is also considered a form of art these days, in Korea at least. Interesting, huh? You will see why if you see a sheet of paper. They're soft and beautiful, but also sturdy and doesn't tear very easily... Well of course, they have cellulose in them!"
ReplyDeleteHaha, you are too funny!