Behind the Guise
The arrow whistled as it transversed the placid air toward its target. The man was believed to be the illustrious and supposedly virtuous leader of Shu. Zhang Ren smiled from the shadows as soon as the projectile left his bow, straight from the greenery he had hidden in. The unfortunate man was hit, but it was not Liu Bei, but rather a fateful moment that could change the destiny of Shu forever. Few had known his tale, for he always hid the horrid scars of his heart behind several layers of shame. This is his story.
Pang Tong yawned and stretched, taking in the new scents of morning, hearing faintly the sound of a sparrow at the sill of his window, chirping happily in the glory of the sunshine, content to shower it's human companions with a musical warble that permeated the dim gloom of the scholar's chamber. It did well to arouse the man in the morning. He rose wearily from his bed and paused before the mirror. He stared at his reflection, running his cold fingers along his features, tracing the scars of his birth that covered his face and chest. It pained him to see it, almost to tears. The little white lines had caused him so much hurt, so much torment. However, there was little reason to hide them now. His days of ridicule were past, replaced by tactful smiles to keep the villagers from staring.
Pang Tong lived in Nan Yang now, in a forest with two of his companions. They were scholar friends who had sword an oath of brotherhood (with an exception to their sister) and lived in three tidy huts each some ten yards from the last. Often they would discuss the fate of the dynasty and devise strategies that one could take to unify the land. Although they were all of age, none of the three were married, but for Zhuge Liang, Yue Ying, and Pang Tong, it hardly mattered…too much.
That same peaceful morning, Tong dressed himself and strode outside. He had never tried to hide his scars. He had found no need. His friends never teased him, they knew the pain that he felt.
Pang Tong's was the cottage on the far end, where one could get a fair view of the mountains. Yue Ying's was in the middle, homier than either of her male counterparts, and Zhuge Liang's was on the end, standing two spans taller than the other's, not that one could notice in a moment's glance. His, unlike the others was shaded front and back by three beautiful oak trees that stretched far above the ground. They were so wide that not a one of them could wrap their arms around the trunk and feel their fingers on the other side.
Today, as was the usual custom, Yue Ying was the first to be seen out of her cottage, inhaling the intense beauty before her, taking in, and sometimes even recording every sight, smell, and sound. Occasionally, she simply tended a garden or reading a book. Zhuge Liang was usually the latest, not because he overslept, but because he claimed he had more peace to work and compose in the quiet of his dwelling place. Pang Tong was usually about quickly, not because of nature, or because he found any special joy in the outside world, but because of the scenery. Long had he an eye for Yue Ying, and a heart, but no tongue brave enough to put his feelings to words. But after all, why would she want something so deformed, so ugly as he? Pang Tong sighed, looking on in the height of interest as the young girl leaned against a little tree aways off, lazily letting the wind blow her hair in a swirling display of life. His eyes drank her beauty like the finest wine of the land. He loved the way her warm smile dazzled the grayness of his eyes. He loved the way she walked, like a dancer in perfect step, poised, calm. He loved the way she looked up in a start from her book, no matter the care one took not to disturb her. He loved the music of her voice that sank into the depths of his heart, and the red lips that spoke them to being, an orator of her soul, a gift from the heavens. He just loved her.
"Yue Ying, is it? I thought you had left the planet again." She laughed, not harsh like the tone of a mocker; it had a beautiful melody in its sound.
"Yes, I'm here, early aren't we? Liang won't be out for a good many hours."
'That's the point.' But still his teeth clenched at the sound of that name. "I know. He must still be busy with that instrument…or he's still brushing his hair."
"It has grown long—" she mused not bothering to finish her thought.
"Each to their own I guess," he said ignoring the distant look in her eye.
"Each to their own." She repeated softly, "Well then, what had we decided to do today. Oh yes, observing the forest were we?"
"About that. I was thinking, perhaps, you and I could go now. Since I know how much you've been wanting to explore."
"But what about Liang? Won't he wish to come?"
"NO!" he said, suddenly realizing the harsh tone he had used, "no, he's seen the forest, heheh, a great many times. If I were to guess, he wouldn't mind. She looked into Tong's brown eyes, she had known him a long time; she had known Liang longer.
"I guess…it wouldn't hurt…" She rose, gathering her book in her arms and straightening the long garb that fit her curves so sensually. Despite the cool of the hour, Pang Tong began to sweat, nervous and excited at the same time. Before they had gone two steps off, another voice could be heard behind them.
"What's this talk of leaving without me?" They turned, Pang Tong scowled, cursing under his breath, sometimes he wondered if Zhuge Liang was an enigma or a blessing. He always seemed to show up at inopportune moments, as calm and pragmatic as ever. Yue Ying smiled a little; Pang Tong ignored it.
"Forgive us, Liang, we thought we'd give you some peace to yourself."
"That is most kind of you—"
"Would you like to join us?" Pang Tong cringed at her kindness.
'Why that dirty, rotten—curse the day of his birth for breathing my air and—'
"Thank you, Ying, but I have to run to the market for a bit—"
'Did I say dirty rotten? I mean wonderful, kind—'
"Very well, Zhuge," she smiled, interrupting his thoughts, "we'll be waiting." She gestured in a sort of wave with her hand and continued walking.
A few hours later they returned from the forest, Zhuge smiled at them.
"I thought you might have been dead." He grinned; Pang Tong smirked. His companion never was the best at sarcasm.
"Perfectly alive," mumbled Pang Tong, "until I saw your face," he continued, far beyond Liang's range of hearing.
"Glad to be back," Yue Ying stated simply, "I was getting hungry."
"Taken care of, sit down, the meal has already been prepared."
Ying's eyes brightened.
"Oh Zhuge, I just love you sometimes!" Pang Tong looked away painfully as they embraced. Kongming was a good choice: kind, loving, calm, intelligent, handsome--That last one stung like a scorpion's poison, one thing that Pang Tong did not have…looks.
The days and weeks passed the same as always, starting the day with the few hours he had alone with Ying. Both could only admit that they were growing closer. Finally, he had managed enough courage to tell her…he had to, or it would torment him for the rest of his life. He crept from his cottage at the usual time, his head down as he recited the words he had rehearsed so many days under the cloak of his breath. But his pace slowed, he heard a conversation, fairly low…it sounded like Yue Ying and—but how? He was never out this early. Pang Tong peeked behind the wall of his home where he could faintly see and hear everything.
"I've noticed you've been spending a great deal of time around Tong."
"Yeah," he mused, "but I feel so sorry for him, it must be –it must be horrible to carry those scars." Pang Tong's finger drifted to his face as he stroked the lines softly.
"I'm sorry for him as well. You don't—Yue Ying?"
"Yes, Zhuge?" He averted his gaze and Ying clasped one of his hands between hers. Pang Tong's heart began to race; he didn't want to hear what he heard, see what he saw. But he had to know—curse his curiosity; he could not bring himself away from the scene.
"Ying, you don't—"
"I don't what?" Pang Tong trembled there, awaiting it all to end, whispering to himself it was only a dream.
"Do you—love him, Yue Ying?"
"Liang, I—"
"I shall leave you alone if—"
"No! Zhuge, please," her voice nearly cracked.
"Don't cry, Ying, it rips the flesh from my heart."
"Liang, I love you." Zhuge Liang's gaze finally met hers and it seemed like an eternity that they inched closer together until their lips met in a tender kiss. Pang Tong watched a moment in plaintive silence until the pain became too great to continue watching. Tears crept down his cheeks, leaving streaks like another scar on his face and on his heart. He rose quickly, sneaking back to his cottage and shuffled toward his bed. But something stopped him—he turned, facing the mirror that reminded him of his deformity. He traced the scars once more before searching through closets and drawers. He would forget the pain, the scars, he would hide them beneath a guise so that no one could see, and so he would never be reminded of them again.
4 years later, he and his now-married companions were bidding him off to Luo Castle with Liu Bei.
"Be safe." The woman whispered, a taunt that remained in his ears. She began to remove the cloth from his mouth when he placed his hand on hers. She looked at him wordlessly as he slowly eased away and kissed him on the cheek like she knew his fate and re-fastened the guise. "Good luck." She turned to be at her husband's side, "Oh, and Tong?'
"Yes, Ying?"
"I like you better without the mask." She smiled and waved as the corners of his mouth rose in a warm half-smile.
Now were the last moments between his life and death.
"I never told her," He whispered in a remorseful sigh, but only a peace filled him, "But she knew…"
Zhang Ren's arrow didn't fail to bring the phoenix to his death, but Yue Ying still held a place for his spirit in her heart, even as she served her husband…