Hiya~! I guess is going to be my first gift-fic posted, eh?
Well, this fic is for Mr. Ree, the wonderful writer and a personal favorite between Kit-chan and me who wrote a wonderful DGM AU Drugtionary, and we would like to thank her for writing it. The story has many memorable aspects: it has the jokes, it has the tears, it has the character development . . . It's a very well-done AU. Of course, she has written many wonderful stories (like the FAQs, the very humorous one-shot that sent us laughing on the floor, and Niveous Skies, probably the first yaoi fic that I actually enjoyed), but that one stood up from all the crowds. Congratulations on getting it done, Mr. Ree! And keep writing! Even on a different site!
And happy birthday and Chinese New Year! . . . Yes, Mr. Ree, your birthday fell on the first day of Chinese New Year . . . And I hope this one-shot is of your liking.
Disclaimer: I don't own -Man! And I don't own "Dreams of the Red Chamber"! And my editor here, Kit-chan, gets all the editing credits. What would I do without her?
Dreams of the Crimson Jade
"[It] is not written on paper,
For paper can be erased.
Nor is it etched on stone,
For stone can be broken.
But it is inscribed on a heart,
And there it shall remain forever."
— Anonymous
"Hey, Lenalee! Lenalee!" a male voice calls as the Chinese girl jaunts through the hallways of the tower called, "The Black Order HQ." The quiet, stone walls amplify the words, making it impossible to miss.
"Yes, Lavi?" Lenalee responds, turning around to see a redhead run up to her. "May I help you?" she asks.
"Yeah . . . Yeah, you can," Lavi pants, making his friend wonder where he had run from and why he had ran in the first place. He grins, holding up a leather-bound book.
The book is obviously pretty old, since peach specks are rubbed onto the brown book. The pages are frayed at the edges, but they still retain the gold linings they once had. What's peculiar about the book is the fact that it's title-less and author-less.
"Yes? I see it," Lenalee states, nodding slowly. "How may I help you . . . with this book . . .?" She certainly is curious about the leather-bound book, but she has never thought that Lavi would go up to her to ask her to help. After all, he's the Bookman apprentice.
"Easy," Lavi reassures. "I just want to test out something I found in this book. So, are you up for it?"
"Oh! Of course!" Lenalee answers. Anything for a friend.
"Thanks, Lenalee," the redhead grins. "So . . . Tell me, Lenalee. When I say a word, tell me the first thing that comes to mind. Don't hesitate. The word is fairy tale."
"That's not one word," Lenalee immediately points out.
"Ugh . . . I know . . ." he groans, shaking his head slowly. "But, either way, what's the first fairy tale that comes to mind?" he persists.
"紅樓夢(2)," Lenalee replies immediately, nodding as if to confirm her response. "Yeah, I like that story."
"Huh . . .?" Lavi sounds, raising an eyebrow. "Hong . . . what . . .?" he asks.
"紅樓夢," the Chinese exorcists repeats. "It means The Dreams of the Red Chamber," she translates, "a Chinese classic. It's even one of the Four Great Chinese Classics (3)!" She grins, recalling the tale until she shakes her head to get rid of her daydream. "So, did what the book say is true?"
"I . . . I still don't know," Lavi grumbles, pouting. "It's said that the first fairy tale that someone says is the story that his or her life is based off of. But, I never heard of that story before . . . I still haven't done many studies on the Chinese culture yet . . ."
"Huh? You don't know the story?" his friend gawks with amazement. "But you said you know Chinese!"
"Some," he sighs, shaking his head. "I'm not fluent yet. The language has a word for everything! I wouldn't be surprised if they had a character that could tell a whole story!"
"You're just exaggerating." Lenalee rolls her eyes, laughing a little bit. "Too bad that the story doesn't have an English translation though (4), but I will gladly read it to you," she offers. "That way, you can get a step up on your Bookman studies." Then, she grabs Lavi's arm, beckoning him to follow her to the library near Komui's office. "It will be like a . . . story time."
"Really?" Lavi asks, his eyes sparkling excitedly. "May I sit on your lap then?"
"Eh heh . . . No."
"Aw . . ."
The two exorcists are in a room with papers scattered on the ground like tiles imbedded on the floorings. Some books that are strewn across the thick layers of paper. Carefully not to step on Komui's "precious paperwork," Lenalee and Lavi search the shelves for a particular book. The Chinese stands on her tiptoes (as much as her high-heels allow her), running a finger across gold Chinese characters etched on book spines. She mouths the titles that she scans over, still searching for the right book. Across the room, Lavi examines the words that runs down the spine, comparing those characters with the characters scribbled on a slip of paper he is holding.
The redhead frowns when he stops at two thick volumes and one booklet. Keeping a finger on each of the two books, he looks back down at his slip of paper to double-check that he had gotten it correct. "Hey . . . Lenalee," Lavi calls, turning his head to look back over to the Chinese exorcist while keeping his fingers on the books. "I think I have a problem here . . ."
"Hmm . . .? What is it?" Lenalee asks, stopping what she is doing and walking over to Lavi. "Have you found it?"
"I . . . I think so?" Lavi mutters, looking back at the four books that he had spotted. "But . . . Why do I see three books?" Once Lenalee arrives, Lavi pulls away from the bookshelf and allows her to take a look.
"Yeah," Lenalee grins, "you got them all."
"But . . . why are there . . .?"
"Well . . . the story has 80 original chapters written by the original author, Cao Xueqin," Lenalee explains, "but was never finished because he had died. Now, there are over 100 alternative endings and such by different authors – sometimes, the author adds 80 more chapters to complete the story. Both of the two volumes here are the most commonly known versions of the story: Rouge version and Cheng-Gao version." She grabs onto the small booklet that's wedged in between the two volumes of The Dreams of the Red Chamber and another thick book, trying to pull it out.
The single green eye widens as Lavi stared at Lenalee with a look of amazement. "W-what? T-that's pretty long for a fairy tale. I mean, aren't fairy tales supposed to be like short stories? Things that are supposed to be read in one sitting?" he asks. "Eighty plus chapters are when people usually call things novels, Lenalee."
"I know," the Chinese remarks. "That's why we have a storybook version." She finally is able to slide the little booklet out from between the books, nearly falling back onto her bottom in the process. "See? It isn't that long now, is it?" she asks, holding up the paperback and waving it.
"Yeah," the redhead admits, following Lenalee to a red couch near the wall of the library and plopping down next to her. "So . . . Are you sure you won't let me sit on your lap?" he persists, grinning stupidly.
Lenalee sighs and shakes her head. "Do you want me to read it to you or not?"
"Fine . . ."
"Four thousand six hundred and twenty-three years ago the heavens were out of repair. So the Goddess of works set to work and prepared 36,501 blocks of precious jade, each 240 feet square by 120 feet in depth. Of these, however, she only used 36,500, and cast aside the single remaining block upon one of the celestial peaks. This stone, under the process of preparation, had become as it were spiritualized. (1) It was conscious of the existence of an eternal world, and it was hurt at not having been called upon to accomplish its divine mission.
"One day a Buddhist and a Taoist priest, who happened to be passing that way, sat down for a while to rest, and noticed the disconsolate stone which lay there, no bigger than the pendant of a lady's fan.
"'Indeed, my friend, you are not wanting in spirituality,' said the Buddhist priest to the stone, as he picked it up and laughingly held it forth upon the palm of his hand. 'But we cannot be certain that you will ever prove to be of any real use; and, moreover, you lack an inscription, without which your destiny must necessarily remain unfulfilled.'
"Thereupon he put the stone in his sleeve and rose to proceed on his journey.
(1)
"Ages afterwards, another priest, in search of light, saw this self-same stone lying in its old place, but with a record inscribed upon it—a record of how it had not been used to repair the heavens, and how it subsequently went down into the world of mortals, with a full description of all it did, and saw, and heard while in that state.
"'Brother Stone,' said the priest, 'your record is not one that deals with the deeds of heroes among men. It does not stir us with stories either of virtuous states men or of deathless patriots. It seems to be but a simple tale of the loves of maidens and youths, hardly important enough to attract the attention of the great busy world.'
"'Sir Priest,' replied the stone, 'what you say is indeed true; and what is more, my poor story is adorned by no rhetorical flourish nor literary art. Still, the world of mortals being what it is, and its complexion so far determined by the play of human passion, I cannot but think that the tale here inscribed may be of some use, if only to throw a further charm around the banquet hour, or to aid in dispelling those morning clouds which gather over last night's excess.'
"Thereupon the priest looked once more at the stone, and saw that it bore a plain unvarnished tale of
Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand
The downward slope to death,'
telling how a woman's artless love had developed into deep, destroying passion; and how from the thrall of a lost love one soul had been raised to a sublime, if not a purer conception of man's mission upon earth. He therefore copied it out from beginning to end. Here it is:"
People had always forgotten things somewhere. Coins scattered on the ground; trash flittered in the wind; belongings neglected at the sidewalk. But, there was one place that people should be aware of. It wasn't like other places, where they only stole the things that some people would never miss. This place stole away memories, snapping shut around words and smiles with its glass container. They were small things, and those who unlock its door would find nothing useful.
One day, a man opened its door, his phonebook in hand. There was an old payphone in front of him. Papers were stuffed, piled, jammed in the corners of the phone and on the wooden surface that supports it. The muddy ground colored the sheets that, unfortunately, fell from the table and was trampled and ignored by the other people who had entered.
However, that man knew better. Stuffing his phonebook into his brown trench coat, he knelt down and collected the papers on the ground. He picked up phone numbers, pages ripped out of old books, and even black-and-white photos of smiling people. He patted them down with his hands and placed them all neatly on the table surface.
Wiping the mud on his hands onto his coat, reached back into his pocket for his phonebook. But, he stopped and knelt back down to pick something up. A jewel crushed and hidden in the murky slush.
It was a jade necklace. The man wiped the grime away with his sleeve, shining it with his breath. The stone was a dark green, like pine needles in the spring, not the milky green-yellow that most people see. Pebbles were still lodged within the jade's engravings for the man couldn't move them out, but the engraving was still clear. It was some sort of character that stretched from one end to the next, like a boat. One dot seemed to fall over the "boat," another stayed snug inside its home, and the last one reached out on the other end. Then, the man held the jewel up by its muddy, red thread and let the sun shine through the small tablet.
Finally, the man set the stone under the papers. He knew he couldn't take it. The stone said a story. A story of the heart. It was waiting for the person that it was destined for. It wasn't a story for paper. But, it wasn't a story for stone either.
It was a story for the heart.
"Under a dynasty which the author leaves unnamed, two brothers had greatly distinguished themselves by efficient service to the State. In return, they had been loaded with marks of Imperial favor. They had been created nobles of the highest rank. They had amassed wealth. The palaces assigned to them are near together in Peking, and there their immediate descendants were enjoying the fruits of ancestral success when this story opens.
"The brothers had each a son and heir; but at the date at which we are now, fathers and sons had all four passed away. The wife of one of the sons only was still alive, a hale and hearty old lady of about eighty years of age. Of her children, one was a daughter. She had married and gone away south, and her daughter, Tai-yü, is the heroine of this tale. The son of the old lady's second son and first cousin to Tai-yü is the hero, living with his grandmother. His name is Pao-yü.
"The two noble families were now at the very zenith of wealth and power. Their palatial establishments were filled with every luxury. Feasting and theatricals were the order of the day, and, to crown all, Pao-yü's sister had been chosen to be one of the seventy-two wives allotted to the Emperor of China. No-one stopped to think that human events are governed by an inevitable law of change. He who is mighty today shall be low tomorrow: the rich shall be made poor, and the poor rich. or if any one, more youghtful than the rest, did pause awhile in knowledge of the appointments of Heaven, he was inclined to hope that the crash would not come, at any rate, in his own day.
"Things were in this state when Tai-yü's mother died, and her father decided to place his motherless daughter under the care of her grandmother at Peking. Accompanied by her governess, the young lady set out at once for the capital, and reached her destination in safety. It is not necessary to dwell upon her beauty nor upon her genius, though both are minutely described in the original text. Suffice it to say that during the years which have elapsed since she first became known to public, many
Brave men are said to have died for love of this entrancing heroine of fiction.
"Tai-yü was received most kindly by all, especially so by her grandmother, who shed bitter tears of sorrow over the premature death of Tai-yü's mother, her lost and favorite child. She was introduced to her aunts and cousins, and cousins and aunts, in such numbers that the poor girl must have wondered how ever she should remember all their names. Then they sat down and talked. They asked her all about her mother, and how she fell ill, and what medicine she took, and how she died and was buried, until the old grandmother wept again.
"'And what medicine do you take, my dear?' asked the old lady, seeing that Tai-yü herself seemed very delicate, and carried on her clear cheek a suspicious looking flush.
"'Oh, I have done nothing ever since I could eat,' replied Tai-yü, 'but take medicine of some kind or other. I have also seen all the best doctors, but they have not done me any particular good. When I was only three years of age, a nasty old priest came and wanted my parents to let me be a nun. He said it was the only way to save me.'
"'Oh, we will soon cure you here,' said her grand mother, smiling. 'We will make you well in no time.'"
China was going through harsh times, especially with xenophobia spreading like a virus. Those who "sided" with the opponents were sneered at. Those who were patriots were regarded as bandits. It was turmoil between the rebels as the western powers invaded. Opium addiction wrapped the citizens with its dark, shredded cloak and reaped with a scythe that reached five thousand kilometers. "Unfair treaties" were pushed aside, and the rebellion sparked. (5)
Nobody knew what to do.
One Chinese family had fallen victim to the western powers' armies. Parents of a teenage boy and a small girl resisted, screaming that the West were creating unfair treaties and blaming the Opium addictions on the Christian missionaries. Finally, the parents were convicted as Boxers by the Japanese.
Shortly after, they were beheaded.
The teenage boy, terrified for his sister's life, gathered the small girl in his arms and fled the assaulted village. He and his sister traveled a short distance north and closer to the European countries west. He decided to ignore the Buddhist teachings from his parents and convert to Christianity. He never formerly converted, but he believed in God a little more than Buddha and His deities.
That way, he and his sister were safe away from the "bandits" and protected by the foreigners their parents once feared. They weren't Boxers, but they weren't "foreigners" either. The children were right in the middle. They were safer that way.
Pretending to be on both sides.
"Tai-yü was then taken to see more of her relatives, including her aunt, the mother of Pao-yü, who warned her against his peculiar temper, which she said was very uncertain and variable.
"'What! the one with the jade?' asked Tai-yü. 'But we shall not be together,' she immediately added, somewhat surprised at this rather unusual warning.
"'Oh yes, you will,' said her aunt. 'He is dreadfully spoilt by his grandmother, who allows him to have his own way in everything. Instead of being hard at work, as he ought to be by now, he idles away his time with the girls, thinking only how he can enjoy himself, without any idea of making a career or adding new glory to the family name. Beware of him, I tell you.'
"The dinner-hour had now arrived, and after the meal Tai-yü was questioned as to the progress she had made in her studies. She was already deep in the mysteries of the Four Books, and it was agreed on all sides that she was far ahead of her cousins, when suddenly a noise was heard outside, and in came a most elegantly dressed youth about a year older than Tai-yü, wearing a cap lavishly adorned uith pearls. His face was like the full autumn moon, his complexion like morning flowers in spring. Pencilled eyebrows, a well-cut shapely nose, and eyes like rippling waves were among the details which went to make up an unquestionably handsome exterior. Around his neck hung a curious piece of jade; and as soon as Tai-yü became fully conscious of his presence, a thrill passed through her delicate frame. She felt that somewhere or other she had looked upon that face before.
"Pao-yü—for it was he—saluted his grandmother with great respect, and then went off to see his mother; and while he is absent it may be as well to say a few words about the young gentleman's early days.
"Pao-yü, a name which means Precious Jade, was so called because he was born, to the great astonishment of everybody, with a small table of jade in his mouth—a beautifully bright mirror-like tablet, bearing a legend inscribed in the quaint old style of several yousand years ago. A family consultation resulted in a decision
that this stone was some divine talisman, the purpose of which was not for the moment clear, but was doubtless to be revealed in time. One thing was certain. As this tablet had come into the world with child, so it should accompany him through life; and accordingly Pao-yü was accustomed to wear it suspended around his neck.
(1)
"By this time he had returned from seeing his mother and was formally introduced to Tai-yü.
"'Ha!' he cried, 'I have seen her before somewhere. What makes her eyes so red? Indeed, cousin Tai-yü, we shall have to call you Cry-baby if you cry so much.'
"Here some reference was made to his jade tablet, and. this put him into an angry mood at once. None of his cousins had any, he said, and he was not going to wear his any more. A family scene ensued, during which Tai-yü went off to bed and cried herself to sleep."
The little girl walked around the dirty streets that she and her brother resided near. She had wandered away from home, but she didn't worry. It was a small world, a small village, and everyone knew each other. But, she was in somewhere new, where the Oriental homes that she was used to were replaced by Occidental architecture. Her little friends warned her that the Westerners were scary, but she was still curious about this new place.
I'll look around the edge . . . she thought, taking small steps around the town. Her tentative pace didn't bring her far, and she stopped when she saw a curious glass case towering over her. Metal crosses bared the case, and the sun glared into her eyes through the glass. Inside, there were small slips of paper, and a table with a black box thing.
Finally, she noticed a boy, probably a year or two older than her, inside the glass case. He wore some sort of solid-black clothing, and a top hat was set on his head. All she could see of him was his mouth forming foreign words and his little hands gripping several coins. But, she could tell that his skin color was a bit different than those she usually saw. Normally, she would see a tinted yellow hue, but his skin was peachy.
A small, muffled grunt pulled her out of her observing trance. The boy was trying to slip coins into the slot of the box and grab the hook thing that rested on the box. But, they were all too far for him to reach. Finally, he used the walls around him to try to clamber up.
The little girl, panicking, thought that he couldn't get out of the glass container and grabbed the steel handle above her. Giving it a twist, she wrenched the door open.
Along with the boy ending up on top of the poor Chinese.
"Ow . . ." the boy groaned, slowly pulling himself off the girl. Immediately after he realized he had landed on top of her, he started streaming random words that the Chinese didn't understand.
The Chinese girl simply stared blankly at the boy. What is he saying? she thought. She watched as the too-big top hat slide off the boy's matted hair. The Chinese squeaked with realization.
The boy had an eye patch, stretching down from his hair. Red hair. Red, flaming hair. Like angry fingers reaching to a thundering sky. Dark green eyes pierced through her, like jade beads embedded in golden statues.
Peachy skin. Strange clothing. Red hair. Green eyes. Indecipherable words.
This boy was a foreigner.
The redhead clambered onto his feet, dusting himself off and still rambling off foreign words.
The girl's eyes glazed with fear, her lips trembling. Her clenched tightly at the dirt and tears started spring from her eyes.
"You should stay away from foreigners," she heard one of her friends tell her; "there are scary people."
The boy offered his hand down to her, but all she could listen to were the gibberish that was coming out of his mouth.
"Why?" she recalled herself asking.
"Let me guess, you've never met one before, huh?"
And she had shaken her head 'no.'
The boy sounded concerned about her, but was he really?
"Well, they're horrible."
"How so?"
"They take everything you hold dear. They take away your money, your home, and even your family."
The boy kept repeating something over and over again. He seemed worried. He looked like he was about to cry or something.
"Even my brother?" she had asked.
"Yeah. Definitely your brother. They're cold-blooded devils."
When the foreigner reached out, the girl shrieked. "Don't touch me! 鬼子(6)!" she screamed, scrambling onto her feet and running away with fear. She didn't look back, didn't dare to. She didn't care about the hurt expression that had flashed before her eyes. She would never allow devils take her precious big brother away from her.
"Big Brother!" she cried, her feet pattering on familiar roads of her village. She spotted a familiar man run out of her home and she leapt into his arms before he could proceed any further. "Big Brother!" she repeated.
"What's wrong, my adorable little sister?" he asked, holding onto her tightly. "Where did you wonder off to?"
"B-Big Brother . . ." she sobbed, hiccupping as she buried her face in the crook where his shoulder and neck met. "I-it was scary . . ." Her fists balled up and scrunched her brother's white clothing, and the Chinese girl clung onto him like he was a lifeline.
"What was?" he asked, walking inside their botched home. "You can tell Big Brother anything." He gently set her down on her bed, plopping himself next to her. "Big Brother promises to scare everything scary away," the man reassured, stroking the girl's pigtails.
The girl sniffed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. "I-I saw somebody. H-he had paper-colored skin a-and green eyes! They're the color of dirty water . . . A-a-and," she stuttered, still sobbing. "He had flaming hair!"
Her brother sighed and picked her up again. "He's just a foreigner. They aren't bad," he said, setting her on his lap. "They just have different cultures, different looks, and different tongues. But, they are all people."
"B-but . . ." the girl squeaked, staring pleadingly up at her brother. "E-everyone said that they are b-bad people! T-they said that the f-foreigners a-are devils that will take everything away!"
The man smiled, chuckling softly. "They just don't understand the foreigners' difference in thinking," he explained. "There are so many different people, and shutting them all away would be losing millions of friends that will love you. Do you understand, Little Sister?"
She sniffled and nodded. "S-so, I could have called a friend a devil?" she asked. "I might have been mean t-to a . . . friend?"
"Don't worry," her brother comforted, patting her head. "Tomorrow, we'll go over there to apologize."
"But I'm still scared . . ."
He nodded and reached into his shirt, pulling out a jade necklace. The stone was dark green, and a character was clearly etched on its smooth surface. "Mom had given this to me years ago," he began, pulling the thin, red thread over his head and then draping it around his sister's; "She said, 'As long as you have the heart to go on, there's no such thing as tragedy.'"
"Really?" his sister questioned, picking up the stone and examining it. The jade was much darker than most, like stones on gold statues. Veins of deeper green ran around and through the stone, like a heart. "心(7)," she repeated, staring at the character with awe. She finally smiled and hugged her brother. "Thank you!
"Now, even the make-believe monsters will go away."
"Shortly after this, Pao-yü's mother's sister was compelled by circumstances to seek a residence in the capital. She brought with her a daughter, Pao-ch'ai, another cousin to Pao-yü, but about a year older than he was; and besides receiving a warm welcome, the two were invited to settle themselves down in the large family mansion of their relatives. Thus it was that destiny brought Pao-yü and his two cousins together under the same roof.
"The three soon became fast friends."
(1)
The siblings walked towards the Occidental town near their village. The little girl's hand reached up, hanging onto her brother's. Her brother had to reach down a bit more, but he didn't mind too much. His sister was terrified, but she was determined, gripping the necklace he had given to her.
Eventually, the two arrived at the edge of the town. There, closer in, was the glass the girl had seen the day before. The same boy opened the door and exited the container, pulling his top hat down over his eyes.
The girl, excited that she could apologize to the stranger, mustered up her courage and pulled away from her brother. Trying to remain composed, she walked ahead to the stranger, noticing how he peered from under the rim of his hat at her. "Yesterday, I was very rude to you," she began and bowed deeply to the boy, "and I am very sorry about that."
A smile formed on the stranger's face and he replied, "It is . . . um . . . You do not need to . . . worry about it." His awkward Chinese certainly surprised – she had been expecting a foreign language or something – and she wanted to laugh. His accent revealed that he probably spoke other languages, and his pronunciations had the same drone of Shanghai dialect but not as adept. To put it simply, he butchered the Chinese language, and the girl doubt that he could even read or write.
"Oh, it looks like he knows some Chinese," the girl's brother remarked, grinning as he strode over. "I guess he isn't as much as a foreigner than I had thought."
"Huh?" the boy sounded, bewildered as he looked up at the Chinese man. He was probably trying his best to register the man's fast speech, and maybe some new vocabulary too.
The little girl watched her brother laugh, squishing the top hat on the stranger's head. The boy wasn't too pleased with the act and he pulled his hat off, revealing ruffled red hair. The two males started talking in the language that she didn't know. All she picked up was her name and her brother's, but that would be it. As she listened intently, she hadn't known that her brother knew a foreign language. Of course, he stumbled quite a bit and his accent was heavy. However, he was so adept that she knew she could proudly proclaim her brother bilingual.
Eventually, the conversation shifted back into Chinese, the Boy with Jade Eyes turned to her held out his hand. "We . . . we are friends?" he asked.
"We are friends," the girl agreed, taking the boy's hand. Her brother had been right: shutting away foreigners would be shutting away millions of friends.
Suddenly, they heard a call, and the Boy with Jade Eyes turned his head to that direction. An old man with funny stood there angrily, beckoning the boy to come over. The boy just smiled nervously to the girl, rubbing the back of his head. He obviously didn't know what to say but settled for a simple, "See you" and pulled away from his newly-made friends.
"We better be going back home too," her brother said, placing a hand on her back. "I still need to make dinner."
"Okay," the girl answered, "I want some Tofu and Tea Eggs(8) too!"
She was quite happy, having made a new friend. It was like that old rhyme she heard some little children sing.
"Looking for, looking for, looking for a friend. I have found a good friend. Bow down, shake hands, and you are my good friend.
"Good-bye."(9)
(1) "Pao-ch'ai (1) made him show her his marvelous piece of jade, with the inscription, which she read as follows:
"'Lose me not, forget me not,
Eternal life shall be your lot.'
"The indiscretion of a slave-girl here let Pao-yü become aware that Pao-ch'ai herself possessed a wonderful gold amulet, upon which also were certain words inscribed, and of course Pao-yü insisted on seeing it at once. On it was written
"'Let not this token wonder from your side,
And youth perennial shall with you abide.'
(1)
"All this time Tai-yü and Pao-ch'ai were on terms of scrupulous courtesy. Tai-yü's father had recently died, and her fortunes now seemed to be bound by more closely than ever with those of the family in which she lived. She had a handsome gold ornament given her to match Pao-ch'ai's amulet, and the three young people spent their days together, thinking only how to get the most enjoyment out of every passing hour."
From that point on, the little girl visited the edge of the Western town, unafraid and enthusiastic. Always the Boy with Jade Eyes was near the phone booth (as her brother had explained what the case was). And, always, she would dash over to greet him. The two would talk (even with the boy's awkward speech), sitting on the ground next to the booth. The girl would always ramble slowly about stories she had heard or experienced. The boy would tell short jokes, even though many punch lines were lost. The two laughed together, enjoying their time despite the slowly disappearing language barrier between them.
One day, the little girl pointed at the boy's top hat and asked, "I've been wondering, what is this hat? I've always seen you wear it, but I've never seen it before."
"Ah?" the Boy with Jade Eyes sounded, taking off his hat. "This is a top hat my . . . my grandfather gave me . . ." he explained, stumbling with his words. "Looks funny on me, right? It is much too big for me." He smiled, tossing the hat up in the air a few times and catching it.
"I agree," the girl replied, nodding as she watched the hat fly up into the air and land back into his hands. "It hides your red hair," she pointed out, grinning. After so long, she began wondering how she was terrified of that striking red. She had grown an appreciation for its uniqueness, even though she knew that other kids would run away from him in fear and scream that he was a bad omen.
"Yeah? You think so?" the Boy with Jade Eyes asked (thankfully, the girl had gotten used to his differing culture(10)). "Maybe I should wear something else . . . Something like . . . Like . . . What is it called?" He paused and pondered for a while, covering his mouth with the hat as his green eye gazed up at the clouds drifting through a plane of blue. "It is a cloth . . . but for your head . . .?"
"A bandana?" the girl filled in.
"Yeah! That!" the boy exclaimed, lighting up. Afterward, though, he sighed and leaned against the outside of the phone booth, scratching the back of his head. "Wow . . . Chinese is really hard, right? It seems like it has a word for everything. I would not be . . . surprised if it had a word for throwing someone out the . . . window."
"I'm sorry . . . I don't know English," the girl apologized, chewing the bottom of her lip and staring at the ground.
"You do not need to worry about it," the boy reassured, waiting for her to look up at him. When she did, he threw the top hat into the air. It sailed up, hanging at the zenith before plummeting back down. Almost as if an invisible being had interfered, the hat landed perfectly onto the boy's head. "Ta-da!" he exclaimed, holding his arms wide.
"Ah! Wow! A hat juggler!" the girl giggled, clapping her hands enthusiastically. She snatched the hat off and tried the trick for herself. However, it simply bounced off her head.
And the two laughed.
Later on in the day, though, Lenalee would be returning back home. As usual, she would see her brother cooking food, and she would run up to him. But, this time, instead of asking what he was planning to make for dinner, she was going to ask for something else.
"Big Brother? I want to learn English."
(1)
"Meanwhile, Pao-yü's father had received an appointment which took him away to a distance, the consequence being that life went on at home in a giddier round than usual. Nothing the old grandmother liked better than a picnic or a banquet—feasting, in fact of some kind, with plenty of wine and mirth. But now, somehow or other, little things were always going wrong. In every pot of ointment the traditional fly was sure to make its appearance; in every sparkling goblet a bitter something would always bubble up. Money was not as plentiful as it had been, and there seemed to be always occurring some unforeseen drain upon the family resources. Various members of one or other of the two grand establishments get in serious trouble with the authorities. Murder, suicide, and robbery happen upon the premises. The climax of prosperity had been reached and the hour of decadence had arrived.
"Still all went merry as a marriage-bell, and Pao-yü and Tai-yü continued the agreeable pastime of "playing wind and clouds." In this they were further favored by circumstances. Pao-ch'ai's mother gave up the apartments which had been assigned to her, and went to live in lodgings in the city, of course taking Pao-ch'ai with her. Some time previous to this, a slave-girl had casually remarked to Pao-yü that her young mistress, Tai-yü, was about to leave and go back again to the south. Pao-yü fainted on the spot, and was straightway carried off and put to bed. He bore the departure of Pao-ch'ai with composure. He could not even hear of separation from his beloved Tai-yü."
The little girl ran along the dirt roads to the town, excited to show her friend her little arsenal of newly-learned English. She skidded to a halt when she reached the edge of the town, glancing around for the Boy with Jade Eyes. However, she frowned. He wasn't at the empty phone booth or near there, like always. She thought that something might have happened to him, so she panicked and raced to the phone booth. Scanning around, she searched for the noticeably red hair amongst the thin crowds.
Finally, she spotted the trademark feature of the boy. It was unmistakable. Relieved, she raced over and put on her best smile.
"Herrlo!" she greeted, grabbing the boy's hand and skidding in front of him.
Her smile wavered. The boy didn't look like he had the day before. His green eye that used to glimmer so brightly at her had lost its brilliant luster. It looked like any regular jade one would find scattered around China.
"Huh? Ah, it is you . . ." the boy muttered, plastering a stiff smile on his face. "It . . . seems like you are . . . learning . . . learning English."
"Yeah! Big Brother is teaching me!" she exclaimed. "He is a wonderful teacher!"
"I am sure he is . . ." the boy agreed, sighing. His gaze shifted to the side and at the ground, avoiding the girl's questioning expression.
"What's wrong?" the Chinese asked, her hands holding tighter on the boy's lazy one. "Is there something wrong? What . . . what happened?" she asked.
The boy sighed again, pulling his hand away and using it to press his still-too-big hat closer to his head. "I am . . . I am leaving this town tomorrow . . ." he explained.
"What? Why?" the girl inquired, stepping closer, but the boy just stepped back more, keeping his head bowed as he listened to her pleading words. "The Rebellion is finally calming down in this area," she said, "and less people are afraid of foreigners now! So . . . why?"
"Business . . ." he gulped out.
The girl's lips trembled and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "But . . .!" And the black top hat was pushed onto her head, stopping her. The girl's eyes widened and stared up at the boy.
"It is a present," he explained, smiling and petting the girl's head. "We will . . . We will still be . . . friends," he reassured hesitantly.
The little girl curled up a bit, just about to bawl her eyes out in front of her friend. But she shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "The . . . I'll give you a present to!" she said, reached around her neck. But she couldn't find the red thread and her eyes widened with horror.
She had left her precious necklace next to her bed.
Desperately, she looked up only to find the boy leaving her. She cried out, reaching out for him to wait. "Please! Please come back tomorrow!"
The boy turned around with a bitter smile on his face.
"I will try."
"And she was already deeply in love with him. Long, long ago her faithful slave-girl had whispered into her ear the soft possibility of union with her cousin. Day and night she thought about Pao-yü, and bitterly regretted that she had now neither father nor mother on whom she could rely to bring about her heart's desire. (1)
"One evening, her grandmother and a whole bevy of aunts and cousins walked in to offer, as they said, their hearty congratulations. Tai-yü was astonished, and asked what on earth their congratulations meant; upon which it was explained to her that her father had married again, and that her stepmother had arranged for her a most eligible match, in consequence of which she was to leave for home immediately. With floods of tears Tai-yü entreated her grandmother not to send her away. She did not want to marry, and she would rather become a slave-girl at her grandmother's feet than fall in which the scheme proposed. She exhausted every argument, and even invoked the spirit of her dead mother to plead her cause; but the old lady was stubborn, and finally went awav, saying that
The arrangement would have to be carried out. Then Tai-yü saw no escape but the one last resource of all; when at that moment Pao-yü entered, and with a smile on his face began to offer her his congratulations too.
"'Thank you, cousin,' she shouted, starting up and seizing him rudely by the arm. 'Now I know you for the false, fickle creature you are!'
"'What is the matter, dear girl?' inquired Pao-yü in amazement. 'I was only glad for your sake that you had found a lover at last.'
"'And what lover do you think I could ever care to find now?' rejoined Tai-yü.
"'Well,' replied Pao-yü, 'I should of course wish it to be myself. I consider you indeed mine already; and if you think of the way I have always behaved towards you . . .'
"'What!' said Tai-yü, partly misunderstanding his words, 'can it be you after all? and do you really wish me to remain with you?'
"'You shall see with your eyes, answered Pao-yü, 'even into the inmost recesses of my heart, and then perhaps you will believe.'
"Thereupon he drew a knife, and plunging it into his body, ripped himself open so as to expose his heart to view. With a shriek Tai-yü tried to stay his hand, and felt herself drenched with the flow of fresh warm blood; when suddenly Pao-yü uttered a loud groan, and crying out, 'Great heaven, my heart is gone!' fell senseless to the ground.
"'Help! Help!' screamed Tai-yü; 'He is dying! He is dying!'"
The Chinese girl sat on the dirt road, crying to the bright sky. In her hands was her jade necklace, dirty by the muddy, wet ground. Grime covered the bright red and dark green. Small pebbles lodged themselves into the engraved character, hiding its meaning from the world.
Suddenly, a hand patted her shaking shoulder and she whirled around. She shouted joyfully, leaping to her feet. Her arms were spread and about to hug the Boy with Jade Eyes.
However, he pushed her away and sneered.
"I just came back for what you've stolen," he demanded, glaring with his mean, green eye. "Now, give it back!"
"W-what? I have stolen nothing from you!" she denied, offended by the sudden mistrust? Hadn't she proven herself that she was trustworthy? If anything, she trusted the boy with her life, shouldn't he too?
"Yes! You have!" the boy screamed, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and shaking her with spite. His hateful words dripped with poison, like a dagger placed in a fire for millions of years, "Give me back my heart!"
The girl stared, dumbfounded by the boy's words. His heart? How can she steal someone's heart? She had killed no one! So why was he accusing her for such an absurd crime? "I don't know what you mean!" she wailed, sobbing as she watched her world blur together. She couldn't take it anymore and shoved the boy away from her.
But her eyes widened as a ripping sound echoed along the streets.
A large, gaping hole was at the left of the boy's chest, gaping at her with its sickening cavity. Blood spilled out from the torn flesh like worms at corpses, dripping onto the ground like polka dots. Then, when she looked at her sticky hands, she saw a thumping organ flail weakly in her fingers like a dying animal searching for a way to escape. Maggots wiggled around, bathing in the spilt crimson jewels. Finally, a croak escaped from the boy's lips, words washed away by the blood, and he fell to the ground with another hole in the middle of his forehead.
She shrieked and dropped the dying heart.
"Somebody! Somebody! Please help! He's dying!" she screamed. "Big Brother! Save him!"
"'Wake up! Wake up!' said Tai-yü's maid, 'Whatever has given you nightmare like this?'
"So Tai-yü woke up and found that she had had a bad dream. But, she had something worse than that."
The girl kicked herself awake, hearing her brother call her over and over again. Her blurry eyes stared up in the faint light and at her brother's worried face.
"It's just a bad dream . . ." her brother sighed, his voice rasping like he had been screaming those very words to himself over and over again. The little girl leapt from her bed and clung onto his shirt, sniffling as he stroked her hair while muttering, "Everything is okay."
"H-he lost his heart!" the little girl hiccupped.
"Who did?" he asked.
"The foreigner!" she exclaimed, letting go and gathering herself up. She stumbled out of bed, her feet feeling the cold ground. "He said I stole his heart! I . . . I . . . It must be in the hat!" she told herself, tripping around as she searched the room for where she had kept the hat. Have she lost it already? "I must give him back his heart! He will die without it!"
"Little sister, it's just a bad dream . . ." the man repeated, walking after the little girl and gathering her back up into his arms. He carried her back over to her bed and laid her down underneath the warm blankets once more, kissing her forehead. "Nobody can steal someone's heart. That's where the will to go on is. And nobody can steal that.
"People can't lose their hearts . . . right?"
"She had a bad illness to follow; a strange to say, Pao-yü was laid up at the same time. The doctor came and felt her pulse—bother pulses, in fact—and shook his head, and drank a cup of tea, and said that Tai-yü's vital principle wanted nourishment, which it would get out of a prescription he then and there wrote down. As to Pao-yü, he was simply suffering from a fit of temporary indigestion.
"So Tai-yü got better, and Pao-yü recovered his spirits. His father had returned home, and he was once more obliged to make some show of work, and consequently had fewer hours to spend in the society of his cousin. He was now a young man, and the question of his marriage began to occupy a foremost place in the minds of his parents and grandmother.
(1)
"[After much deciding, it] was arranged that Pao-yü was to marry Pao-ch'ai."
The little girl stood silently near the phone booth, clutching her jade necklace. The red thread weaved around her fingers as she held it like a rosary. She waited and waited until the sun had finally peered above the east ground and started its journey up. However her friend still didn't arrive.
Finally, she sighed. She had been there for far too long – her brother would wake up and find her gone. And then he would go into a fit that she wished she would not see. The girl looked down onto her necklace, studying the pale outline of the beautiful character. She had to give this necklace to the Boy with Jade Eyes somehow.
So, she opened the phone booth and entered inside.
The door slammed closed behind her. She had never been inside the phone booth before. There was an old payphone in front of her. Papers were stuffed, piled, jammed in the corners of the phone and on the wooden surface that supports it. The muddy ground colored the sheets that, unfortunately, fell from the table and was trampled and ignored by the other people who had entered. Black papers weaved themselves around her legs. It was all new to her, and she knew that people had forgotten many things inside this glass cage. Quickly, she looked for a place where she could put her necklace so only her friend could find it. Only if he came back.
Suddenly, the door opened and somebody stepped inside. The door slammed back closed, bringing the presence of the newcomer to the Chinese's attention. Slowly, she turned around and looked up.
It was only a man in a trench coat, holding a beaten leather booklet.
"H-herrlo . . ." the girl greeted, smiling. "H-hau ah yu du-ing, seuh?" she asked, just as how she had learnt from her brother.
However, the man just grinned creepily. His smile was angular, stretching up with an unnatural curve. It was sadistic pleasure.
Ka-chik.
Large gun barrels sprout from his back like black wings. The metal aimed at the defenseless girl. The man's black eyes gleamed red, and he bared his teeth. He slowly said something, but she didn't understand.
Shots sounded.
"This momentous arrangement was naturally made in secret. Various preliminaries would have to be gone through before a verbal promise could give place to formal engagement. And it is a well-ascertained fact that secrets can only be kept by men, while this one was confided to at least a dozen women. Consequently, one night when Tai-yü was ill and alone in her room,
yearning for the love that had already been contracted away to another, she heard two slave-girls outside whispering confidences, and though she heard Pao-yü's name. She listened again, and this time without doubt, for she heard them say that Pao-yü was engaged to marry a lady of good family and many accomplish merits. Just then a parrot called out, 'Here's your mistress: pour out the tea!' which frightened the slave girls horribly; and they immediately separated, one of them running inside to attend upon Tai-yü herself. She finds her young mistress in a very agitated state, but Tai-yü is always ailing now.
"This time she was seriously ill. She ate nothing. She was racked by a dreadful cough. Even a Chinese doctor could not hardly fail to see that she was far advanced in a decline. But none knew that the sickness of her body had originated in the sickness of the heart.
"One night she grew rapidly worse and worse, and lay to all appearances dying. A slave-girl ran to summon her grandmother, while several others remained in the room talking about Pao-yü and his intended marriage.
"'It was all off,' said one of them. 'His grandmother would not agree to the young lady chosen by his father. She had already made her own choice—of another young lady who lives in the family, and of whom we are all very fond.'
"The dying girl heard these words, and it then flashed across her that after all she must herself be the bride intended for Pao-yü.
"'For if not 1,' argued she, 'who can it possibly be?'
"At that moment her health improved as it were by a supreme effort of will, and, to the great astonishment of all, she called for a drink of tea. Those who had come expecting to see her die were no glad to think that her youth might ultimately prevail.
"So Tai-yü got better once more; but only better, not well. For the sickness of the soul is not to be cured by drugs. Meanwhile, an event occurred which for the time being, threw everything else into the shade. Pao-yü lost his jade tablet."
(1)
Light glared through the glass-less window, seeping through his eyelids. The main blinked awake, shading his eyes with his forearm.
He immediately jolted into full attention and leapt to his feet. The Chinese man glanced around the room, his eyes falling onto an empty bed. Where . . . where is she? He panicked, calling the name of his sister over and over again. But, he got no reply but his echo.
He grabbed his coat, not bothering to change out of his pajamas, and raced outside, calling and calling her name. Over and over again, nobody shouted back to him. He ran and ran, waiting for the voice that he was searching for. Finally, he stumbled to the edge of the Western town.
His sister was there, all right . . . There were clothing strewn around the paved ground with dust spilling out where a person should be. Around his sister were two strange men, one in a black uniform and another in a peach hooded one. The little girl was struggling against the two, screaming at them to let go of her. She wore high, black boots with a strange green flurry coming out of each. But he didn't care about where in the world she had gotten those boots. All he cared about was what those two men were planning to do with her.
"What are you doing to my precious little sister?" he screamed, shoving the men away. "Keep away!" he ordered, wrapping his arms around her and hoping to keep her safe that way.
"Are you her brother?" the man in black demanded, black eyes glaring down onto the Chinese. "Are you the brother of this accommodator?"
"Yes . . ." he growled hesitantly, bringing his sister closer to him.
"Well, I'm sorry," the same man sighed, shaking his head, "but we have to take her away. She would make a wonderful asset to fight in the war."
"War?" the Chinese screamed, infuriated. "You want a little girl to fight in a WAR for you? How low can you people get?" He lashed out when the man came closer to the little girl. "I will not allow you to take her away!"
But, despite all his shouting and demanding, arms wrapped around the little girl and snatched her away. Immediately he reacted violently, losing his self-control and rationality. He spun around and brought his arm down onto the kidnapper's head, but the hooded being shoved him down to the ground and dragged her away, speaking underneath his breath.
"Don't take her away!" he begged, scrambling back onto his feet. But before he could run after his sister, his head was jerked back by his ponytail and slammed backwards into the rocky ground.
He fell unconscious, but he barely choked out a single word when the man in black turned and walked away. Apparently, the man heard and stopped. He looked like he was about to cry, and he choked out words of his own.
"I'm sorry . . ." the man rasped, walking away with the little girl.
"Pao-yü's illness was increasing day by day. His father had received another appointment in the provinces, and it was eminently desirable that Pao-yü's marriage should take place previous to his departure. The great objection to hurrying on the ceremony was that the family were in mourning. Among other calamities which had befallen of late, the young lady in the palace had died, and her influence at court was gone. Still, everything considered, it was deemed advisable to perform the wedding without delay.
"Pao-yü's father, little as he cared for the character of his only son, had been greatly shocked at the change which he now saw. A worn, haggard face, with sunken, lack-luster eyes; rambling, inconsequent talk—this was the heir in whom the family hopes were centered. The old grandmother, finding that doctors were of little use, had even called in a fortune-teller, who said pretty much what he was wanted to say, that is, that Pao-yü should marry some one with a golden destiny to help him on.
"So the chief actors in the tragedy about to be enacted had to be consulted at last. They began with Pao-ch'ai, for various reasons; and she, like a modest, well-bred maiden, received her mother's commands in submissive silence. Further, from that day she ceased to mention Pao-yü's name. With Pao-yü, however, it was a different thing altogether. His love for Tai-yü was a matter of some notoriety, especially with the slave-girls, one of whom even went so far as to tell his mother that his heart was set upon marrying her whom the family had felt obliged to reject. It was therefore hardly doubtful how he would receive the news of his engagement to Pao-ch'ai; and as in his present state of health the consequences could not be ignored, it was resolved to have recourse to stratagy. So the altar was prepared, and nothing remained but to draw the bright death across the victim's throat.
"In the short time which intervened, the news was broken to Tai-yü in an exceptionally cruel manner. She heard by accident in conversation with a slave-girl in the garden that Pao-yü was to marry Pao-ch'ai. The poor girl felt as if a thunderbolt had pierced her brain. Her whole frame quivered beneath the shock.(1)
"By this time all formalities have been gone through and the wedding day is fixed. It is not to be a grand wedding, but of course there must be a trousseau. Pao-ch'ai sometimes weeps, she scarcely knows why; but preparations for the great event of her life leave her, fortunately, very little leisure for reflection. Tai-yü is in bed, and but for a faithful slave-girl, alone. Nobody thinks much about her at this time; when the wedding is over she is to receive a double share of attention.
"One morning she makes the slave-girl bring her all her poems and various other relics of the happy days gone by. She turns them over and over between her thin and wasted fingers until finally she commits them all to the flames. The effort is too much for her, and slave girl in despair hurries across to the grandmother's for assistance. She find the whole place deserted, but a moment's thought reminds her that the old lady is doubtless with Pao-yü. So she makes her way there as fast as her feet can carry her, only, however, to be still further amazed at find the rooms shut up, and no one there. Utterly confused, and not knowing what to make of these unlooked-for circumstances, she is about to run back to Tai-yü's room, when to her great relief she sees a fellos-servant in the distance, who straightway informs her that it is Pao-yü's wedding-day, and that he had moved into another suite of apartments.
"And so it was. Pao-yü had joyfully agreed to the proposition that he should marry his cousin, for he had been skilfully given to understand that the cousin in question was Tai-yü. And now the much wished-for hour had arrived. The veiled bride, accompanied by the very slave-girl who had long ago escorted her from the south, alighted from her sedan-chair at Pao-yü's door. The wedding music was played, and the young couple proceeded to the final ceremony of worship, which made them irrevocably man and wife. Then, as is customary upon such occasions, Pao-yü raised his bride's veil. For a moment he seemed as though suddenly turned into stone, as he stood there speechless and motionless, with fixed eyes gazing upon a face he had little expected to behold. Meanwhile, Pao-ch'ai retired into an inner apartment; and then, for the first time, Pao-yü found his voice.
"'Am I dreaming?' he cried, looking round upon his assembled relatives and friends.
"'No, you are married,' replied several of those nearest to him. 'Take care; your father is outside. He arranged it all.'
"'Who was that?' asked Pao-yü, with averted head, pointing in the direction of the door through which Pao-ch'ai had disappeared.
"'It was Pao-ch'ai, your wife . . .'
"'Tai-yü, you mean; Tai-yü is my wife,' he shrieked, interrupting them; 'I want Tai-yü! I want Tai-yü! Oh, bring us together, and save us both!'
"Here he broke down altogether. Thick sobs choked his words back, until relief came in a surging flood of tears."
The little girl woke up to talking.
"She's awake . . ." she heard a person say. Then a face came into view, blocking the light like the hills to a sunset. The face smiled pleasantly and hand stroked her hair. Just like how her brother would.
"Where's Big Brother?" she asked. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing, don't worry," the person replied. "He's still in China."
"No!" the girl screamed. "Liar! Liar! Let me go to Big Brother!"
"Don't worry," the person repeated, "just pretend . . . that he's with you right now . . ."
"I don't want to . . . I want it as a reality."
"All this time, Tai-yü was dying, dying beyond hope of recall. She knew that the hour of release was at hand, and she lay there quietly waiting for death. Every now and again she swallowed a teaspoonful of broth, but gradually the light faded out of her eyes, and the slave girl, faithful to the last, felt that her young mistress's fingers were rapidly growing cold. At that moment, Tai-yü's lips were seen to move, and she was distinctly heard to say,
"'O Pao-yü, Pao-yü . . .'
"Those words were her last."
After months on months, the girl simply stared blankly past the light and at the white ceiling. It was a bland ceiling, no pictures, and nothing to entertain herself but shut her whole mind down into a mere doll's. Her eyes had long since lost their brilliant radiance, and her hair was tangled into a giant, lumpy flourish underneath her head and on her pillow. The restraints were tighter, after many times she had tried to escape from her presumed prison dorm.
But, as all tales, there has to be an ending to everything.
Finally, a comforting hand patted her tangled hair. She squeaked in response and turned her head to where she thought the person was.
And there was her brother, smiling. His long hair had been swiped short, so it only danced on his collar. He wasn't wearing his normal attire of all white; instead he wore a long, flowing lab coat and black pants. His rectangular glasses were notably thicker, probably from reading for far too long at far too close of a distance. He was taller, and he wore a much more mature look. Although he changed quite a bit, he was still her brother, and her brother he shall remain.
"I'm here now," he smiled, squatting down so he could see her at her eye level.
"I'm home now."
(1)
"All this time the fortunes of the two grand families are sinking from bad to worse. Pao-yü's uncle is mixed up in an act of disgraceful oppression; while his father, at his new post, makes the foolish endeavor to be an honest incorrupt official. He tries to put his foot down upon the system of bribery which prevails, but succeeds only in getting himself recalled and impeached for bad administration of affairs. The upshot of all this is that an Imperial decree is issued confiscating the property and depriving the families of their hereditary rank. Besides this, the lineal representatives are to be banished; and with the walls which have been so long sacred to mirth and merrymaking, consternation now reigns supreme.
"'O high Heaven,' cries Pao-yü's father, as his brother and nephew start for their place of banishment, 'that the fortunes of our family should fall like this!'
(1)
"Then other members of the family die, and Pao-yü relapses into a condition as critical as ever. He is in face at the point of death, when a startling announcement restores him again to consciousness. A Buddhist priest is at the otuer gate, and he has brought back Pao-yü's lost tablet of jade. (1)But when Pao-yü clutched it in his eager hand, he dropped it with a loud cry and fell back gasping upon the bed.
"Immediately upon the disunion of body and soul which mortals call death, the spirit of Pao-yü set off on its journey to the Infinite, led by a Buddhist priest. Just then a voice called out and said that Tai-yü was awaiting him, and at that moment many familiar faces crowded round him, but as he gazed at them in recognition, they changed into grinning goblins.
(1)
"He was now taken to see Tai-yü. A bamboo screen which hung before the entrances to a room was raised, and there before him stood his heart's idol, his lost Tai-yü. Stretching forth his hands, he was about to speak to her, when suddenly the screen was hastily dropped. The priest gave him a shove, and he fell backwards, awaking as though from a dream."
Many, many years had passed. The girl's brother had scrambled up the ranks in the science department, always fixing and creating things with just a mere "magical" drill "of doom." The little girl herself was no longer a little girl. New exorcists joined. New finders came and gone. But most of all, the best memory she would always remember and cherish, she had gained friends. People she cared about. People she laughed with. People she talked to.
People she cried over.
War was rough. It always was, and nothing would be left unharmed. People came. People killed. It was the same. Always the same.
"Humans are pathetic creatures . . ." a new exorcist grumbled, leaning against his hand. He had a large poncho covering his new uniform, and green-black scaled bandana ran across his forehead. Red hair shot up like flames in a campfire. And his singer green eye held a blasé glaze.
He knew that nothing was different. It was all the same. Over and over again. It was like people's stories were no different from what was said in the Bible. Everything followed the same patter. Like a never ending nightmare.
The teenager stood up and looked over the railing down at the sea of coffins. The place smelled of dried blood and bitter tears. People were sprinkled around the ground, crying their hearts out when they realized that someone they cared about was dead. Nothing new. His emotions stabbed him like a distant reality.
But one person caught his attention. At one of the coffins was a girl, sitting on her knees with dried tears. Wet marks trailed down her dirty cheeks and blotted her lap. Bandages were strapped all over her, and bruises speckled her flesh. Her legs trembled, either with fatigue or sorrow. But, most of all, her violet eyes gazed up at him like daggers. They tore his disappeared heart apart and reached to him for a hug.
No, this wasn't just a distant nightmare.
This was reality.
"Once more he had regained a new hold upon life; once more he had emerged from the very jaws of death. This time he was a changed man.
(1)
"Thus their hope, springing eternal, was unexpectedly revived. (1)
"Free pardons were granted, confiscated estates were returned. The two families basked again in the glow of Imperial favor. Pao-ch'ai was about to become a mother; the ancestral line might be continued after all.
"But Pao-yü, where was he?(1)
"One moonlight night, his boat lay anchored alongside the shore, which a storm of the previous day had wrapped in a mantle of snow. He was sitting writing at a table, when suddenly, through the half-open door, advancing towards him over the bow of the boat, his silhouette sharply defined against the surrounding snow, he saw the figure of a shaven-headed Buddhist priest. The priest knelt down, and struck his head four times upon the ground, and then, without a word, turned back to join two other priests who were waiting for him. The three vanished as imperceptibly as they had come; before, indeed, the astonished father was able to realise that he had been, for the last time, face to face with Pao-yü!"
Lenalee snaps the booklet close with a "poof," smiling as she turns to look at Lavi. "So, what did you think?"
Lavi pulls his head away from her shoulder, blinking. "That's a really depressing story," he pouts.
"Yeah, it sort of is," Lenalee agrees, standing up to put the booklet away. "Most of the versions are. But, it's still one of my favorites."
"Okay . . . but . . ." Lavi says slowly, frowning. "It's said that the first fairy tale someone name is what the person's life is based off of." He, too, stands up, watching the girl place the booklet back. "How does it . . .?"
Lenalee grins and reaches around the two thick volumes of the Chinese classic. After a few moments, she grabs something and spins around. "This," she answers, slamming a black, felt object onto Lavi's head. Placing a finger on her chin, she examines Lavi, who has a huge eye that boggles out with surprise. "I think you look nice in this," she comments, "but the bandana is still better." The top hat rests snuggly on Lavi's head and the Chinese moves some locks of red hair away from his single eye.
"Huh?" he blinks. "A top hat?" he asks. "For what?" He takes it off, examining the cloth. "I don't get it."
But Lenalee says nothing. She just keeps smiling and puts the hat back onto Lavi's head.
"Because this is reality."
Cultural Notes:
(1) I have omitted sentences and paragraphs and phrases to keep this one-shot as short as possible. The source I got the story from is Ch'ing China: The Dream of the Red Chamber. You can find it on Google.
(2) It is pronounced "Hong Lou Meng." The writing is in traditional Chinese characters, since simplified Chinese characters weren't established until the 1950s and the 1960s
(3) The four great Chinese classics are (in chronological order): Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Water Margin, Journey of the West, and Dream of the Red Chamber. Dream of the Red Chamber was written in the mid-18th century, so it should be a mere few decades old in this setting.
(4) The English translation was published in 1973-86.
(5) The Boxer Rebellion. If I got any information wrong, please give me a shout!
(6) It is pronounced "Guizi." Literally, it means "devil" or "monster." It was the term people used to foreigners during the Boxer Rebellion. Again, if I got the information wrong on that last part, give me a shout!
(7) Pronounced as "Xing." It means "heart."
(8) Tea eggs, as the way I "translated" it, says, it's literally special types of eggs soaked in tea. It's a very popular Chinese snack and you can buy it in Asian stores.
(9) It is a very well known Chinese nusery song. I remember that it's the first song that I learned in Chinese. Unfortunately, I was too lazy to get the translation off the Internet, so I translated it myself. That's why it sounds so awkward.
(10) In China, instead of saying, "Thank you," when somebody compliments a person, they usually say the exact opposite. So, if you say, "Your mom is pretty," you'll get the reply, "No, she's absolutely hideous." It is quite common and it's never an insult. As you can tell, that's a pretty big cultural difference.
Gah . . . That's the longest reference note I've EVER done. O.o Anyway, Mr. Ree, I hope you enjoyed this fic and it has reached your expectations. So happy birthday and happy Chinese New Year! Get some fireworks and red packets of money! Oh! And eat noodles too! Long life!