Chapter 2: Loyalty, Obedience, and Sacrifice
I want to see my boy.
That's all mother could say to the messengers. Inside the box were but his ashes, since carrying the body would've required extra logistic that were simply not available. My brother, Zheng Han, had received three extra ranks with his death due to his heroic deeds against an ambush in the desert in the Earth Kingdom, but it was still to low for the country to care about his funeral.
I think I understood that the State needed to have certain priorities, but mother wasn't having none of it. She had taken the messenger by his shoulder with strength I couldn't recognized, shaken the man enough for his bones to play a song as string in a guitar. Father had to intervene, and held her close to his chest.
I didn't stay for the rest. I had been watching the scene from outside the entrance hall, and left the house through the garden, climbing the fence, jumping towards a thick branch of a tree and landed with a roll on a parch of plane ground. From then on I ran.
I just had so much energy suddenly, that I'm sure if I was a firebender I could've bent the sun. I was simply angry, raging at my impotence first of all. It was a question that kept banging on my head for the following days.
Should have I done something?
What could I have done?
How could I have known?
Well, when people go to war, they usually live, or die. I guess that was a giveaway I missed. It seems so obvious in hindsight, how could we have not known this had been a terrible idea?
Why didn't our parents stop him?
Well, how could they have done that? How could I have done it? Restrain him? I find hard to believe we could have held him when he was the stronger of us. But even before thinking about the physical limitations of my family in the face of my brother, did we have a right? A right to put an end to his ambitions?
The school bell rang twice to start our second interval. Our village had two schools, and I studied at the one closer to the port in case my father needed my help. We had two full periods, each divided in three classes, and an interval always before the last class. First, we had Language & Literature, Mathematics and History. Those were the core. In the afternoon were the electives, which we had for the last two years in school.
My father had pushed me to take Management, arguing that no matter my future, having an idea on how to do basic finances and logistics was extremely useful. I don't think the teacher was very good though. Father did usually a better job at explaining some stuff than he did at school. The other two classes had been chosen by my personal preference, Arts for architecture and Mechanics because, well, you need to build the building somehow, right?
I had been trying to focus on classes, trying to forget the room in my house that would forever remain empty. Mom had left it untouched since Han left, and now she didn't have the courage to enter it.
The school courtyard was fenced on two sides, while the other two were besides the main classroom buildings. Over the benches, on the top, I bit a piece of bread that was left from my first interval. Besides me were my two friends, the ones I actually kept close, not just classmates.
Yun Lee was an easygoing guy, but always ready for action. There was little he couldn't stomach. Unfortunately, this was one of those things. He hadn't been able to say much in the first interval, placing a hand on my shoulder and failing to find the right words. Ironically, it was my other friend, Chen Lin, who helped me get through the first day of school.
She just hugged me. It was good hug for sure, she held me tight. I felt my heart calming down and my muscles relaxing slightly. My neck had gotten stiff during the night, which only worsened my poor sleep quality.
Lin was always the smart one, but she was also extremely quiet. For example, she studied our school's book in advance, and I was sure she knew the answer to most questions asked in class, and yet she never had raised her hand. Once I asked her about it, and she had simply shrugged it off, saying it wasn't worth it.
"You know," Lee he gestured as he tried to find the right sentence, "Do you know how you want to go? I mean, to whatever is on the other side?"
Architecture wasn't going to kill me, I hoped. It would be a pretty disrespectful way to go if I had to be honest. Maybe a construction accident?
"But what's on the other side?" Lin wondered.
"Spirits have to come from somewhere—"
"Oh, oh, wait—" Lee raised a hand, "You of all people believes in that, Cao?"
I shrugged, "Mom and dad believe."
"Of all things to not question, Cao choses spirits." Lin even clapped. "I can't believe we hadn't noticed."
"I actually have." I said, and I somewhat wanted to take it back. Father had told me to be discrete with certain things… but I could talk about this with my friends, right? I looked at the bread I had left in my hand, at the crumbles I had in my palms and continued, "All the books we have learned in the past few years, the literature, the history, it's all focused on the last… what? 150 years? And there's nothing that isn't about… our home, our country, and our landscapes."
"What you mean?" Lee asked, a finger pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I've actually given thought to this," Lin offered, "There's a lot books and art with simply, a lack of thought?"
"Books have pages within though, and they have to be written. No one is going to waste paper on empty books." Lee argued, "What is the 'thought' you mention?"
"Lee, you know the poems we read last year? Like, the whole year?" Lin asked, and continued at Lee's hum. "After a certain point, you don't need to know really what the author meant. At the tests, I didn't even need to go line by line to puzzle the message together. There's a current that flows in art, parallel to history," she grabbed a twig from besides her and started running its tip along the veins of the wooden bench we were on," and the arts, the languages, our culture is a reflection of the moment and the close history." And there she took the twig of at the end of the vein. "what happens after the present?"
Lee eyed her warily and looked after at me, "Is this a trick question, Cao?"
I shook my head, "I think she has something in mind."
"How do you create new things?" she asked us, "The future, we don't want to actually live the same day forever do we? We want to try new things—"
"Says the least adventurous bookeagleworm of this school," I observed, "But I get what you mean."
"So, for the last hundred years, we done the same things?" Lee asked, and we gave an unsure nod. At least my nod was unsure, since I wasn't an expert on the matter. Lin was the one who actually wanted to write after school was done so I was trusting her on this.
Lin nodded once again. I wondered how much time she had devoted to this subject by herself. I suppose it made sense due to her personal interest. "I have been asking myself when does something new start."
"What's the message?" I asked her.
"Sorry?"
"The message from last years poems. What's your own interpretation of it?"
She eyed the courtyard and the school bangs rang. We had our last class to attend, and people started moving. I stood there waiting for her to answer, and I had a feeling she was eyeing people returning to the building, waiting to for more privacy.
"Loyalty, obedience to the Royal Family, and… sacrifice. Then you just have to relate to either civil construction, the military, or whatever you can imagine."
I hardly paid any attention to class afterwards. I had ideas boiling and steaming in my head. Conclusions that I was sure, if I said out loud, would get me into trouble. I exchanged goodbyes with my two friends afterwards and we parted ways. I didn't go home, however. I went to the house of an old friend of the family who had long ago stopped coming over.
I was very young at the time, so I wasn't sure why Hayato had stopped visiting. I still saw him across the village a few times, and we always exchanged a sympathetic wave to each other, but that was the extent of it. The day I asked my father about it he had simply told me he had grown busy with work.
And he was a writer.
I stopped before the gate to his house, which was open. I noticed that the metal gate had a flower, a half to each door, and the garden was colored by different plants. The house had two floors, and although it wasn't large, it was more than enough for one person. I suspected he lived alone.
Reaching his front door, I knocked three times. When it opened, the first thing I saw was his cane, a wooden stick with a handle of silver, followed by a hunched figure in long brown robes.
"Zheng Cao," he rasped my name as he looked at me from top to bottom, "You really are your father's son. How is he?"
"It's been complicated." I tried to explain.
"I… heard." He cringed, "Small town, kid. It's hard to keep secrets around here. I'm sorry for your loss. It's never easy. But to what do I have the honor of your visit?"
"Thank you," I bowed, "I just have a few questions. Friend of mine is into writing and… we were wondering on how easy it was to make a life out of it. Since I knew you I thought it would be wise to check right with the source."
"I see." He told me, taking a few steps to get outside and closing the door behind him. "I do have to go to the market. Care to keep an old man company? I'm sure I can answer a few questions."
I nodded.
We walked besides the dirt road at his pace. He would use his stick to support his left leg, and I took his right to make sure I didn't kick his the cane.
"First question?" he prodded.
"How easy it is to write? I mean, as a job?"
"It is no easy task." He stated, his free hand stroking his grey beard. "It requires discipline, and lots of patience."
"Patience? Does it take long to write?"
"It takes long to write something useful. But you never stop writing, it's just that most of it is garbage."
"What's garbage?"
"What do you mean, kid?"
I had a hand stroking my chin, "How do you define what's good and what's not?"
"You grow a sixth sense. After enough time and experience getting things published, you get to understand what's a bit shit and what is completely bullshit. The first almost never gets published. The second probably has a chance."
I chuckled, "Does that have to do with 'art not selling'?"
Hayato stopped and I did to a couple of steps after when I realized, "No one likes art. Not even artists. What sells is what the market wants. I wished someone had told me that in the beginning," he resumed the walk and I followed.
"Let's say I'm practical, and I'm willing to be a mercenary," Hayato chuckled and I continued, "is there a good way to know what the market wants?"
"There's two. Check what sells or ask the publishers what they want. There's only a few of them after all, so that isn't really a difficult task."
This time I was the one who stopped, "But who sets the wants? The market or the publishers?"
Hayato only stopped after I had finished my question. He turned slightly and I saw him measuring me.
"I think you know the answer to that question, no? But tell me, Cao, what's your biggest worry about being a writer?"
"I… what happens if you write something new? What if you don't want to write about something that already exists?"
"Such as a fantasy? A fairy tale?" he inquired.
I took a couple of seconds, "Something with new ideas."
Hayato nodded, "Well, as long as those ideas make sense, I'm sure you can. Just be careful, Cao. You will find that some people have narrower minds than your parents."
My breathing hitched, "Hayato, we were told in school that the Earth Kingdom censors their defeats to avoid panic and continue to have soldiers to fight with. They control which information is spread—"
The old man hummed, and his eyes were on me, "What are you saying, Cao?"
I felt my temper faltering me. Hayato had been a close friend, once, but he wasn't anymore most probably. Perhaps, there was a day I could ask this questions to him, but could I do it now?
I felt I couldn't speak with my parents yet. They were still too embroiled in Han's passing. If I touched sensitive subjects, I was afraid they wouldn't speak their minds. They would restrain themselves.
I didn't want to be restrained.
"Well, the publishers," I started, and used hand gestures for the mask of a young man trying to understand something greater, "I'm trying to piece together what you told me," nothing better than involving him in order to push suspicions towards himself, "Do they choose what ideas to spread? I just want to know what I should be writing about, sir."
Hayato nodded with some difficulty, "I see those questions are well intentioned, Cao. Be careful, nevertheless. Some people might not take the nature of these… inquires too well. We are reaching the village, so perhaps it would be best for us to part ways. I advise you to speak with your parents about this," I felt my temperature fall to negative degrees. Did he want me out to rat on me? Had I pushed him enough for that? I said nothing incriminating… ok, the Earth Kingdom comparison was unneeded. We aren't savages. Still…
"Of course sir," I answered politely.
We parted ways, actually, he did. Not me. I stalked him for the rest of the day. I let him see me go, turned a couple blocks away and ran in order to buy something that changed my outfit. Passing by Ms. May store, I bought some white powder, cheap brown cloth with a few strings, and the cheapest broom, took out its stiff fibers, which were connected to the handle by a sleeve and a screw, and placed them over my head in the public bathrooms. Applying the powder I whitened my skin a bit, but did not exaggerate. Ripping some of the cloth, I made a hat by tying it over my head by tying the top with a string. Next, I wrapped my self in the cloth to make some sort of long dress that could cover my legs and chest, and held it together with the rest of the strings.
Looking over the mirror, it was obvious to anyone up close something wasn't right with this fair lady. My chin was too well defined, and my hair was extremely short. This, however, would allow myself to hide my profile.
If anyone recognized me, I had to think of a cover story, and I made one up while I dressed up. This would be for a play I was planning with Lee and Lin for the end of the year school spectacles. They would buy that.
Leaving the bathrooms, fortunately no one noticed a girl leaving the male stalls.
I returned to the path I would most likely find Hayato, one I would imagine an old man trying to get his stuff as quickly as possible, and managed to find him on the way to the market as he had told me. Relief washed over me. I kept between us a couple of blocks distance. It was easy to see him due to his height, and yet, hunched back. You could also see from afar that he walked with a cane, which further eased my surveillance.
He did go to the market as promised. I walked around, pretending to see products while keeping an eye, and it was one of the most boring end of afternoons I've had in a while. I mean, I did have my heart beating at full speed the whole time, but eventually I just felt the fatigue.
Then, finally, I saw him with a letter, unopened. Had he bought and written on it? Had he received it? I had seen it. I had no idea what that letter was about and… he delivered it to someone. A scrawny kid from my school, some boy named Tao… he worked with delivery as a part time.
As they parted ways, I had to make a choice. Follow the old man back home, and make sure he didn't stop anywhere else, or follow the letter?
Could I steal it? No. He would know, he could find out later.
I satisfied myself by simply following the Tao and reached what appreaded to be his final destination… the docks. He entered one of the piers, one that I was all to familiar with and saw him deliver the letter to none ofther than my own father, who had been back from the sea already at this hour.
The letter was to him.
