Her Red Bean Soup.
"Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart and the senses."
- Lao Tzu (Chinese Taoist Philosopher, b.600 BC)
She was a woman who came from the poorest village and thought that she would have to serve others for the rest of her life.
He was a man who did not know the purpose of his existence and thought that he was nothing but an empty shell.
"From today onwards, you will be Young Master's personal maidservant. Do you understand your workscope and remember the things that I've told you?"
She nodded and kept her head bowed, not daring to look up unless she was instructed to.
"Good, Young Master is a quiet person. So do not disturb him unless it is necessary, do you understand?"
She sighed inwardly and switched her mind off. The Head Servant had repeated her instructions so many times that she could say them from back to front. Do not disturb him, do not go into his room unless he calls, do not talk to him unless necessary, do not ask him any questions unless necessary too, do not-
"Are you listening to me!" The high-pitched voice jolted her out from her train of thoughts.
She jerked her head up and nodded her head violently, "yes!"
"Then don't stand here like an idiot! Wretched girl..." the plump Head Servant turned around and swayed her way back to the kitchens.
She took a long deep breath, and willed herself to be calm. The Young Master was the family's youngest son and she had never seen him before, not even at the dining table. She heard from the other maidservants that he was a loner and preferred to keep to himself. Only his aged caretaker had seen him before since he always cooped himself in his room and refused to come out.
She wondered why he was like that and straightened her top. They had even given her a better-looking top with nice chinese knots for her 'first' day. As she walked silently to his room, she wondered whether she would be able to catch a glimpse of his face. Perhaps he was a monster? Perhaps he was disfigured? Or maybe he had a tendency to be very violent? She shuddered at this thought and pressed her lips together as she stood outside his room.
The light was on, and she could see the outline of his figure against a desk with a candle-holder.
"Young Master," she squeaked a little and berated herself for it. She was supposed to be polite, not afraid.
There was no response, and all she could see was his head turning from side to side as if he was reading a book. Was he a bookworm then?
"Young Master," she tried again. Her task tonight was to ask for his permission to enter his room. No one had been able to do it except for the elderly male servant but he was too old to serve and had to retire.
No response. She tried again. And again, and again.
At the fifth time, she decided that he was an immature, insensible and extremely rude boy. But that was something that she could only think in her head since he was the one who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, not her.
"Young Master," she emphasized pointedly and continued, "may I come in? I need to change your blankets."
He paused for a while and lifted his eyes from the book that he was reading. He stared at the flickering flame of the candle and thought that he missed the old man that used to serve him. This new maidservant was persistent and he did not like it at all.
"Go away," he blew out the flame and retired to his bed. There was no need to change his blankets, he thought to himself as he buried his face into it.
She saw the light being extinguished and sighed to herself. If she could not even accomplish this task, then perhaps she might lose her job afterall. She wondered how many girls had been employed and sacked, and whether she would be one of them
"Young Master," she stood outside of the room and looked down at the bowl of dessert. Perhaps the smell would attract his attention, she thought to herself.
There was no response or noise and she wondered to herself again whether he was still asleep.
She knocked on the wooden doors softly, "Young Master, I've brought some red bean soup for you."
He coughed a little and frowned; did she think that he was a child to be coaxed?
"Leave," he turned in his bed and continued to sleep.
She frowned; he was obstinate and stubborn. She would have to rack her brain hard and think of other methods.
She smiled to herself, surely he would need food? She balanced the tray of delicious-smelling dishes and called out again, "Young Master. I have brought you dinner."
As usual, there was no response but she was well-prepared. A week had not passed by for nothing.
"I will leave the tray outside your room, please eat it while it is hot."
She made sure that he could hear her footsteps and hid behind a nearby pillar. She was dying to see his face. He sounded mature, but she was sure that he had altered his voice to fool her. No grown up man would ever do such a thing to himself. What good would it do to hide away from the world? She reasoned to herself that he must be a teenager who was desperate for the attention of his busy parents.
She waited for a long while, until she could no longer see the wisps of steam from the soup. And she sighed. He must have known that she was hiding around somewhere and credited him some measure of intelligence. She padded silently back to the door and picked up the tray. How she wished she could eat the steamed fish and roasted chicken! And the scallops in the soup looked extremely inviting; she swallowed her saliva and wondered how they tasted like. Back in her hometown, food was extremely scarce and she only had half an egg during Chinese New Year when she was young. Now, she could only look as her younger siblings fought for the precious boiled egg. It was so long ago that she could not even remember the taste. Even as a maidservant, she could only eat the leftovers since she had not been 'accepted' by the Young Master yet.
She licked her lips. If he would not eat it, then she would. No one will know since this part of the house was isolated especially for him so that he could come out and use the bathroom.
"Young Master, if you will not take your lunch, then I will. I hope you don't mind," she told him through the door politely and sat on the steps as she placed the tray of the food on the floor beside her. What a waste if I throw it away! She smiled to herself and hoped that she will not be caught red-handed by the Head Servant.
He walked to the door, wet his finger and poked a small hole through the thin paper between the bamboo frames.
And there she was, back facing him as she sat down and ate his dinner. His dinner! And in front of his room!
He wanted to frown and laugh at the same time. No one had ever done this to him before. He was always feared and respected, even by his parents to a certain extent. And now this new maidservant of his had taken his dinner without his consent! He thought that he would have to go without food tonight as he continued to stare at her back view.
She's too thin, his frown deepened and he wondered how old she was. Her long hair was tied into two neat plaits and they shone under the waning light of the sunset. Then he froze, because she giggled. Had she caught him peeping? But it can't be! He tried to calm himself down and squinted his eyes.
He let out a silent breath of relief when he saw a sparrow dipping its beak into his bowl of soup. She turned her face, reached out a hand but the sparrow flew away before she could even touch it. He saw her smile to herself and resumed eating. He had not seen women for so long that he could no longer guessed her age. But she was young, this he was sure.
He closed up the hole that he had made previously and laid on his bed. Tonight would be a long night, and the first to go without food, he thought to himself wryly and went to sleep.
He woke up in the middle of the night from hunger pains. He tried to think about his books but all that appeared in his mind were food. His mouth was dry and he yearned for some of that soup that she had brought for him. Perhaps there was still a little left? He frowned to himself and thought that he had never felt this pathetic before. To think that he had lost to a mere maidservant!
He tossed about for several minutes and decided that he needed some soup. He got up from his bed, tip-toed to his door and peered through the hole. No one was around and after a good minute, he opened the doors slowly and cursed them for making such loud creaking noises.
A blast of cold night air hit him right in the face and he shivered. There was a bright full moon tonight and he could smell the sweet scent of flowers that were planted in the small courtyard in front of his room. He looked to the right and to the left, making sure that he was indeed alone before he stepped out of the kerb and made his way to the small kitchen that he recalled was somewhere around. After several confusing turns, he finally sighted the plain kitchen that he used to hide in from his parents when he was young.
He walked briskly to the kitchen and hoped that there would be at least some leftover food for him. He rummaged through the cupboards but found nothing other than dusty utensils and dry wood.
"Young Master?"
He saw the faint cast of her lit lantern and spun around, part from shock and part from fright.
Her lips parted at the sight of him. It was only her nerve that her hand held onto the lit lantern as she took a step back.
His hair was longer than hers and was not tied into a pigtail. Instead, it was loosened and in pure isilver/i. He was very tall and lean. His skin was as pale as snow and the soft yellow glow from her paper lantern made his eyes looked eerily light, as if they were of a soft gold colour.
"I... I..." she did not know what to say as he narrowed his eyes at her. He could imagine the things that went through her mind and was not surprised at all. He had grown used to such looks ever since he was born. No one knew why and even the doctors shook their heads, not knowing how to heal his illness even though he felt perfectly alright and normal.
But there was no place for him in the society. Everyone would ultimately see him as a freak, a hideous monster that should not be brought to the world by his parents. Even his parents had forbade him to step out from the house, and from then on, he had lived alone in this isolated part of the mansion. He could not even remember whether he had any childhood friends at all, and he presumed that he had none judging by his lonely memories that only consisted of himself and a caretaker. When the maidservant trembled, he smirked and folded his arms lazily, "don't you want to see my face? Isn't that the plan you had tried this evening?"
She gulped, not knowing what to say as she stood before her 'Young Master'. She was not even sure whether he was human or not. In that span of five seconds, she had tried to reason to herself that his silver hair was attributed to premature aging; or his fair skin due to being indoors for long periods of time. But his eyes, those light-coloured irises were too strange to be even passed off as remotely ordinary. He was anything but normal; she concluded to herself and struggled to keep her mind as strong as possible while her feet remained glued to the ground.
He took a step to her, and she let out an audible gasp. He frowned; she closed her eyes and apologized.
"I am very sorry Young Master! I will not do it again!" She bowed her head as low as possible, hoping that if he was some monster or demon, he would not harm her and let her go on her way. This must be a nightmare, this cannot be real, I am dreaming, she tried to tell herself.
He was vexed; he could not find food or water, and instead was found by her. He did not want her to be flustered, but there was nothing he could do except to wait for her to calm down. He sat down on a wooden stool and sighed softly. He was sure that the maidservant would leave on her own accord tomorrow, just like many others who were once her predecessors had. No one, absolutely no one could see him as human, not to mention as a male. He was a little glad that this one at least did not shriek nor faint upon his appearance.
How long had it been that someone had acknowledged his presence as real and human? He could only recall his own mother saying his name twice, but no more than that. And that was why he never wanted to leave his room, the realm of his sanctuary and sanity. Because only then, people would address and acknowledge him as the Young Master. Did all creatures of life not yearned for companionship and love? Yet he was the only one who was cruelly ignored and shoved away from the rest, as if his existence was nothing but a mere accident that Buddha had not taken care of.
Even the lowliest ants have comrades and families. I don't even know why I am here, his chest heaved with the second sigh.
Her eyes rounded when she caught his wisp-like sighs. They were so soft that she wondered whether her ears were playing tricks on her. She lifted her head a little and peered nervously at him; he was slouching on the stool and staring at the floor with a resigned look on his face.
Perhaps he was a human? She had never heard of demons sighing before, and she was sure that he was not a ghost since she could see his shadow, real and solid beneath his feet. She pressed her lips together when she saw him blink. She had never seen anyone so sad that she could recognize it right away by that subtle action. And his sadness seem to overwhelm her so much that she just wanted to squat down and take long deep breaths, because it reminded her of the depression she had towards her bleak future. She would forever remain as a maidservant, because that was the only thing she could do. She had to support her family; food was scarce and wars were rampant. She firmly believed that life held nothing for her other than misery and hopelessness, and that she would never experience joy, love or happiness because that was a luxury for poor people like her.
She straightened her back and decided that it did not matter whether he was a demon or not. Her life itself was already of not much value. The world would continue to spin without her presence; life would go on as normal if she died.
"Young Master, are you hungry? I can fix some food for you."
His eyes widened as he lifted his head slowly, not knowing what to say at her offer.
Someone who had seen him in real had acknowledged him as a human, and it was her. His new maidservant.
The corners of his mouth slowly curled up, and he nodded his head like a three year old boy.
"Yes please, thank you."
"Young Master?" She stood outside the door, holding a tray that held a bowl of her red bean soup. He did not say anything, but she knew that he loved it, even though he mentioned he did not really like sweet stuff.
"Come in," he replied happily and quickly pulled another chair to his side.
But she left the tray on his table and stood solemnly like a matron.
He looked up to her and wondered why she did not want to sit beside him.
"Sit with me," he patted the chair beside him.
She shook her head, "this will not do, Young Master. I am your maidservant."
He frowned, because he never saw her as his maidservant at all. He wanted her to be his friend, and hoped that she would see him as her friend too..
"Sit, if not I'll get angry."
She hesitated for a while; invoking his wrath was the last thing on her mind since she did not want to be sent away. So she decided to go along with him because she also wanted to be near him, even though she did not really know why. iMaybe it's his long beautiful hair/i she thought to herself and nodded.
He smiled, because she was now sitting by his side and had prepared her red bean soup for him again. In fact, he had it everyday but never seemed to tire of it. He even looked forward to it because it heralded her presence and companionship. He dipped the spoon into the dessert and saw a small ball of glutinous rice in it. He turned and looked at her.
She blushed a little and looked down, "I added it in."
He nodded his head and as he munched on the sweet glutinous rice, he thought his heart warmed all over like a small fire that had been kindled in the core of his soul. She smiled secretly to herself when she saw the contented joyful expression on his face as he chewed on it. He looked positively angelic when he was happy and she wondered why she had once thought of him as a demon.
"Why did you add this in today?"
She paused, not knowing what to say. Her mother had once said that by adding sweet glutinous rice into red bean soup, the person who eats it would always experience joy and happiness. It was something that she could not give herself, but she could give it to him.
"Because it tastes better that way."
He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Then please always add it in."
She looked at the rolls of scrolls and books on his table, on his bed and on the floor. He was definitely a bookworm, she mused to herself as she tried to sort through the mess and stack them up properly.
"What are you doing?" He turned around and rested his cheek on his right knuckles.
She peered up sheepishly, "tidying up."
He grinned, and she liked the way his mouth curled up.
"Come here," he patted the chair beside him again.
She obliged obediently and took her seat beside him. He closed the book that he was reading, and looked at her.
"Do you know how to read?"
She shook her head.
"Do you know how to write then?"
She lowered her head, feeling more ashamed than she had ever been. He was a learned person, a knowledgeable scholar, and the handsome, youngest son of a wealthy, upper-class family that had links to the royal family.
He took a brush and smiled, "do you want to learn then?"
Her eyes rounded in excitement at his offer. She had always wanted to go to school, but it was unheard of for girls to attend and besides, her family would have nothing to pay the tutors other than home-grown vegetables.
"You will teach me?" She could not believe her ears, and thought that it was her blessing that she was his maidservant.
His smile widened to a soft, deep laugh, "of course! There is no one else here but me."
She smiled and for the first time in his life, he never thought that he had seen anyone more beautiful than her. The smile on her face made her look so radiant and pretty that he realized that books could never describe beauty more apt than the one sitting right beside him.
He gave her a piece of paper and wrote a horizontal stroke on his, "this is 'one'."
She nodded and followed his actions, but somehow she used too much force and her stroke was too think and too wavy.
"Don't use so much force, let your fingers flow with the action," he continued and added another longer stroke beneath the first one. "This is 'two'."
She tried again; it looked better this time round.
He drew another stroke below the first two, "and this is 'three'."
She smiled a little to herself, this was easy!
He took a glance at her paper, "you are a fast learner. Now look carefully as I write the next character."
She frowned as she tried to follow his actions; this character was a little more difficult.
"This is 'four'," he looked at her and saw the crease in her forehead.
She bit on her lower lip and tried to imitate his actions.
He laughed again and shook his head, "no that's wrong!" He laid down his brush against the porcelain tray of ink, stood up and pushed his chair away. She looked up and wondered whether her slow mind had irritated him.
But he moved to her back, bent his back and grasped her right hand in his. She stiffened when his long white hair fell over her shoulders and his fingers closed around her own, lifting her wrist above his desk.
"This is how you hold the brush," he said softly and began to guide her cold limp fingers around the thin slender wood.
"And this is how you write 'four'," he continued and moved her hand slowly and expertly over the paper.
She swallowed and tried not to tremble, her heart was beating fast and she could only focus on the warmth of his hand and his breath on her cheek. She had never been so close to a man before, and this was her Young Master!
"How? Do you think you can do it?" he let go of her hand and straightened his back, not wanting to make any moves lest it turned out to be one-sided affection.
She nodded her head and squeaked, "yes.. I think.. I can."
He smiled, "ah, that is good."
She arched an eyebrow up, "this is my name?"
He nodded, "this is also the character for 'bell'."
She smiled, "really?" She did not know that she had such a poetic name, or at least it seemed like that to her.
He wrote on his paper and she saw he had split her name right in the middle, thereby creating two different characters.
"This," he pointed to the left character, "is my family's surname. And that," he moved his brush over to the right, "means today."
Her lips parted as she tried to absorb in the knowledge. She did not know that his name was part of her name too.
"The snow is heavy today," he remarked as he took a look out from the slightly opened window.
"Are you hungry Young Master?" she asked because she was always feeling hungry when it was cold.
He shook his head and smiled, "no."
She blushed as he did not turn his face away. Her eyes moved back to the paper as she tried to write her own name, although her mind was on him.
"I like to hear you laugh, because it sounds like many small bells chiming together," he rested his face on his propped hand and gazed at her side profile. Her two plaits were so adorable and he longed to touch her hair.
Her cheeks turned bright red and her brush stopped, "how can my laughter sound like bells?"
He smiled to himself, "I think it sounds like bells. And I like it a lot."
She did not know what to say or do, until his hand enveloped hers and lifted the brush off the paper.
"There is a big dot now," he grinned at the splotch of ink that had soaked through the thin paper. "Your hand is cold."
She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was tight.
"I'm alright Young Master, maybe it's the snow."
He called out her name and she looked up, to see her own reflection in his light-coloured irises.
They did not speak and for a long while, he continued to hold her hand along with the brush.
"Today... let me warm your hand."
She looked away, although she did not reject. His heart soared to the skies, and he felt that books could never give him this kind of happiness that he had longed for so many years.
She placed the bowl of red bean soup on his table and sat beside him, "what are you reading?"
He looked at her for a long time, and she asked, "why are you looking at me like that?"
"I think the both of us are like the characters in this book," he replied meaningfully.
Her eyes lit up in surprise, "can you tell me the story then?"
He smiled, "ah... it is about a young girl, whose name was Zhu Yin Tai. She wanted to study very desperately and so she dressed up as a male and attended a school of learning with the other boys. There was a boy, Liang Shan Bo, who sat beside her in classes, and soon in no time, they were good friends and exchanged pointers with each other.
This girl actually came from a rich family, whereas the boy was from a middle class one. The girl liked the boy but could not tell him since he still thought that she was a male. When he eventually found out that she was a girl, he was shocked and surprised. Soon they fell in love with each other and kept their relationship under wraps from their families."
She blushed again, and thought that he loved to tease her.
"I don't think it sounds like us."
"Why? I think they do."
"I am not rich," she gave her reason.
"But I like you," he confessed his feelings towards her for the first time.
She looked down and frowned, "Young Master, this is not right. Your mother will kill me if she finds out!"
He slammed the book on his table and overturned her bowl of red bean soup.
"Do you think I care! She doesn't love me. All she cares is the impression that we give others. And I am a monster!"
She flinched at his temper and got up to her feet, "no! You are not a monster!"
He kicked the wooden bookshelf hard and it rattled. "Then why am I like that! I don't look normal, this I know!"
She wanted to cry; she knew that he was right but she still did not think that he was a monster.
He kicked hard again, and slammed his fists against the wall. She gasped and gripped both his hands tightly, "please! Don't be like this! You are not a monster to me at all! Believe me!"
She looked down, his knuckles were all red and her heart broke at his hurt and lonely soul.
He relaxed when he saw her tears threatening to spill out from her eyes. No one had ever cry for him before, and he felt oddly happy that she was.
"You don't think that I am abnormal?"
She shook her head and closed her eyes, hoping that if she could, she would take away all his hurts and pains. They were like daggers stabbing into her heart and she wished that he did not have to feel this way.
"No... and I like you, no matter whether you are a monster or not."
He pulled her to his chest, closed his eyes and hugged her tightly.
"Stay with me, no one will know. They don't even come here," he reassured her as he stroked her head.
She cried, not knowing what to say and buried her face into his chest. She felt extremely happy and worried at the same time. Would things work out for the both of them?
He rested his cheek on her head and thought that she smelled like her red bean soup, "it'll be alright."
"You should come out!" She insisted.
He frowned a little, "the sunlight is too glaring."
She laughed, "but it's the early morning! You need some fresh air you know."
He sighed; she refused to step into his room and he wanted to be with her.
"Alright, you win," he grumbled.
She took his hand and led him out to the pond in his garden. "Look!"
There was a lone lotus, fully blossomed in pure white adorned by its dark green leaves.
"A lotus," he stated simply.
"Isn't it pretty!" she exclaimed.
"It's just a flower," he replied dryly.
She tugged at his hand disapprovingly, "it's a lotus!"
He chuckled and nodded his head, "yes yes! It is a lotus."
She pouted, and he hugged her from behind, "but it is not as pretty as you."
She blushed again, and thought that even though he did not have any friends, he was a sweet-talker. Perhaps she should stop making red bean soup for him.
He loosened the ribbons that held her bound plaits, "I like your hair loosened. You look prettier like that."
She wriggled a little, "no it is not. I shall have a hard time plaiting them up later."
He raised his eyebrows, "then I shall plait it for you."
She gave up; she could never out-talk him. He dipped his nose into her hair and tightened his grip over her tiny waist, "I don't understand why you smell so nice..."
A butterfly landed on her head, right in front of his eye as they remained in that position. Suddenly, he turned her around and stared into her big black eyes, "I don't want to be Liang Shan Bo."
She blinked, not understanding what had prompted him to say that. "Why?"
He rested her face against his shoulder and answered, "their families did not approve of their relationship. They soon died from each other's absence and transformed into butterflies."
Her lips parted at his explanation. Then she wrapped her arms around him and said, "I won't be Zhu Yin Tai, don't worry."
"Red bean soup!" He smiled and took a big mouthful of it.
She giggled and took out her handkerchief to wipe off the trail of red that dribbled down his chin.
He looked at her sweet face as she wiped the corners of his mouth.
"Why is it that you do not eat the red bean soup that you've prepared?"
She smiled, although she could not think of a reason why.
"Eat," he lifted a spoon of her labour to her mouth. She had to open it before it spilled onto her top. It tasted very, very sweet.
He took a brush and wrote another character on a blank piece of paper, "this is 'love'."
She cocked her head to one side; this character had many difficult strokes.
"It looks difficult to write," she pursed her lips.
"It is difficult to say too," he added.
He then guided her hand and re-wrote the character, "but I think I love you. And no matter how difficult things will be, I will never let you go."
Her tears dripped onto the paper and the character blurred. She had once thought that she would never experience any joy, love or happiness; but he had given her all of that. How could she ever repay him? She thought to herself as he caressed her face and kissed her eyes.
"Never let me go either," he whispered to her ear as he planted another kiss on her tear-stained cheek. He decided that he would never touch salty food from then on. He loosened the red ribbons from her plaits and ran his fingers through her hair.
"Do you love me?" he asked as he kissed her soft tender lips; they tasted sweet too.
She closed her eyes, not daring to answer lest it was a dream. His fingers were caressing her neck and she wanted to lean into his warmth. He kissed her again and whispered, "tonight, stay with me."
She stared at her vomit. No, this can't be happening, she shook her head. How was she going to hide this? The rest of the maidservants would know sooner or later. She wiped her mouth and quickly washed her face. She would have to think of a way before her belly gave her away.
Maybe I should abort it, she bit hard on her lower lip. But she did not want to, it was the creation of their love and their commitment. The baby was innocent and should not be denied a chance to live. But would the baby be welcomed? Or would he be ostracized by the society like his father? How was she going to raise him up?
She cupped her face and felt a headache coming on to her. She could not tell him, he would not be able to help anyway. She was not even sure whether he wanted this child or not. She felt horrible, unwanted and disgusted at herself. What had she done? Where was the propriety that a woman should have? She shuddered at the things that his family could do to her if they found out.
She would have to leave, if she wanted to keep the baby.
"You are leaving me?" he asked, a little incredulous that she would say such a thing.
She nodded her head, "my mother is ill. I need to visit her."
He frowned, "you are lying. I can tell. What happened? What's wrong? Why do you want to go?"
She closed her eyes, her head hurt like hell. Three months had passed, and if she was not fast enough, people would notice it. She rubbed her temples and sat on his bed, "please. I just need to go."
He held her hands, "is it my family? Have they discovered us?"
She shook her head.
"Then is it me? Have I made you angry?"
She shook her head again and felt the waves of nausea riding up her chest.
"Then why! Do you not love me? You are not being honest with me!" he shouted and slammed his hand against the wooden bedframe. He did not understand why she had changed all of a sudden. She had been blowing hot and cold these few weeks and he was confused, angry and frustrated.
She wanted to assure him that it was none of that, but her headache was full blown by now and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and have a good rest. But she had duties in the main kitchen and she did not want the other servants to come running down to look for her. It was the Mid-Autumn's festival and the family was holding a major celebration that very night.
"Believe me, this is all that I can say," she got up from the bed and instantly felt the world spinning under her feet.
He caught her before she fell and frowned real hard at her pale complexion.
"You are sick. Tell me, what's wrong with you!"
She struggled to stand on her two feet, "no, I'm alright..."
He pushed her away and yelled, "fine! Then leave me!"
She teared as her back met the wall, not daring to tell him the truth. The burden of their unborn child was weighing down on her heart like a rock and it was dragging her down to the bottom. But there was nothing for her to say, so she left his room quietly and hoped that he would be able to take care of himself.
He stared at the book; nothing was ever interesting to him anymore. He looked over the characters that she had practiced writing, and could not help but to miss her deeply. A week had passed and she did not come and visit him. He felt hurt, angry and betrayed. Was she toying with his feelings? Did their physical intimacy mean nothing to her? Did she lie to him when they lay under his covers and whispered sweet nothings to each other? Or was she just using him so that her life would be better?
No, she's not like that, he smashed his forehead against the opened book and teared. He had never loved anyone before, not even himself. He had been stuck in a blackhole of darkness and depression until she came and lit up his world. Her presence made joy and laughter realistic and possible. He now understood what was true happiness and contentment, something that he had never gotten from his parents because of his illness.
Then he heard approaching footsteps and his heart skipped a beat. He wiped off the tears with his long sleeve and opened the door.
But it was not her.
"Mother," the word felt foreign on his tongue.
The elderly woman flared her nostrils and gave her a son a tight slap.
"I did not keep you in here for nothing!"
He glared at her; his cheek stinging from her slap. How dared she!
"You will never ever see her again!"
He thought his mother smiled a little, and he flinched inwardly. He grabbed hold of his mother's shoulders and shook her hard, "what have you done to her! You evil woman! What have you done to her!"
She thought her son had gone mad; the way his golden eyes bulged at her, the anger and madness in his eyes, the way he was shaking her. Before she could say anything, her son was pulled away and restrained by the guards she had brought. He was a monster, a freak, and she did not want the world to know that she had given birth to such a child.
"Don't throw my face away! Don't you know your own illness! How dare you make her pregnant!"
His jaw dropped, and he slumped to the floor. A thousand thoughts went through his mind and all of them were regrets towards her. That was why she had insisted on leaving, but why could she not tell him? Did she think that he did not want the child? Or did she not have enough trust in him that he could handle the situation? Or did she not want to keep the child?
"Where is she?" he asked weakly. He had never felt this wretched before.
"She's dead. Do you think that I will ever allow such a thing to happen? Your child will be like you!"
He jerked his head up and stared at the woman. Had his mother really killed her? And his unborn child?
She frowned and glared, "of course I drowned her in the pig-cage! Do you think I can afford this kind of rumour! What would happen to our business and reputation you fool!"
He could not believe his ears. His mother had drowned his love. In a pig-cage, deep in the sea. He wondered what went through her mind as she sank into the dark cold sea, with their unborn child in her belly. He thought he would go mad.
He remained slumped on the floor even when they had left him. And they bolted up the door of his room.
He looked at the food on the tray. All he wanted was her red bean soup, with the sweet glutinous rice balls.
He looked at her writings, and wished that she was sitting beside him now.
He looked at his own hands; he was a murderer, he told himself. He had been unable to provide for her, to protect her from his family, and had even pushed her away when she wanted to leave for his sake. What had he done for her? What had he done for their unborn child? Was it a boy, or a girl?
And where was she? He kept asking himself this question. He did not want to believe his mother's story. She had promised him that she would not be Zhu Yin Tai. Their love story would not end like that; it was too tragic, too cruel. He wanted nothing of that at all, and had not meant anything of that to happen when he remarked that they were similar to the legendary characters. He had not even thought that he would fall in love with her.
But he did.
"Come out!" He heard her calling out for him. Yes, he needed some fresh air.
He got up and pushed open the doors. Oddly, the bolt was not there.
A white butterfly greeted him and landed on the tip of his nose.
He lifted his finger to his nose, and the white butterfly fluttered away to the lone lotus in his pond.
"Can you please tell me the story?" Her sweet voice rang in his ears.
Yes, the story of the star-crossed lovers. The butterflies, the grave, and the red thread of fate that tied them to each other.
He drowned himself in the lotus pond that night, thinking of her and his unborn child. Another white butterfly passed into the night the moment his breath stopped.
She had found him again, but they could not be reunited for long.
He told himself that he would search for her in his next life again.
FYI, the above couple is Sesshoumaru & Kagome (of course!).
"Liang Shan Bo & Zhu Yin Tai" is a famous Chinese classic that tells the tragic love story of a young couple who had met each other through a study-class. Zhu Yin Tai's father did not agree to her relationship with Liang Shan Bo and she died because she missed him too much. When Liang Shan Bo saw her grave, he was overwhelmed by her death and knocked his head against her tombstone. When he died, a pair of butterflies hovered around the grave and the story ended on a slightly bittersweet note that the lovers were finally reunited as a butterfly-couple.
Finally! The above was written in a Chinese setting (since I am one myself so Im dying to write one like that) and its set in China, where people see virginity as a very very important asset to a woman. In the olden days, people (men & women) caught in the act or accused of adultery were locked up in sturdy oblong rattan cage used for pigs. They would tie their limbs up so that they were unable to free themselves and dump them into the sea. Cruel I know, but this is a fact.
In the above fic, Sesshoumaru is an albino, which is unheard of in the early days (think so). Just in case you wonder...
And again, I killed the both of them... sigh. But are you beginning to see my theme? ) Don't worry, this will have a happy ending! Heh.
This chapter is dedicated to all Chinese who loves Inuyasha & Sesshoumaru! (Quan Ye Cha he Sha Sheng Wan! Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru!)
Pseudomonas