Chapter Eleven: Blind Eye
Shen moved silently as the sun. No matter what he tried, though, his thin, clawed feet scratched against the wood. Luckily, the rushing water of the sluice below his room covered up any errant sounds. Jingfei let out a sharp snore from her bed opposite the room; it would take more than a footstep or two to wake her up.
Shen practiced. Problem was, he wasn't quite sure what he was practicing. With a jab, he stuck his wing forward, but lost his balance and had to catch himself. Kung Fu was as mysterious as it was difficult. The street fighters he had seen weeks prior must've learned it from somewhere. He wondered how many people knew it. That huge panda… now that was a powerful creature.
Shen eyed Jingfei as she snored again. She had been relocated to his room to keep an eye on him. Good thing "sentry duty" was not in her skillset.
Shen grabbed an invisible enemy, and pretended to strike it. He faltered, and tried to compensate with his other foot. His toes skinned the coarse wooden floor, and he fell to the ground with an 'oof.'
Jingfei awoke with a snort, and rubbed her blackened beak with blacker feathers. She looked funny with her plumage so out-of-order.
"Up before me again, are we?" She said, yawning under dawning windows.
"Just exercising," Shen said, feigning a stretch.
"Yes, well," Jingfei yawned, "I've never had love for mornings. They didn't pick me as your maid because I'm early bird, that's for certain."
"Why did my parents pick you?" Shen asked.
Jingfei contemplated for a moment. "I don't rightly know. But I am pleased that they did."
A breeze filled Shen's room with the perfume-like scent of new blossoms. Spring was in full tilt, and Shen was ready. It had been some weeks since Shen had snuck away, and other than a few new restrictions, he had rode out his punishments. Tonight, though, would be a special night. Tonight was the first half-moon of spring. He had watched the moon ever since he left Zun, awaiting the sure sign of their reunion. Glee filled him as he remembered the day they had shared.
"Mustn't waste time now," Jingfei said, righting herself, "the sun rises, and the day is warm. Don't you forget, your father is meeting you at dusk for the demonstration."
He hadn't forgotten. It would be the first time in weeks that he had seen his father. Shen was apprehensive, but his excitement held its strength. Father was taking him to a fireworks demonstration, and it was a chance for Shen to show all he had learned. He hoped his father would be impressed.
Dressing himself in a red-white robe, he was led to the steamy bath house. Tiny buds of green appeared on the palace ground's many trees, sheltered within the high walls of the palace. The ramparts felt more comforting than restricting now, for Shen knew what kind of danger they met. Jingfei noticed Shen's gaze.
"Not thinking of running away again, are we?"
"No…" he lied. He was.
"I simply love living here. The walls always make me feel safe. They keep out all sorts of trouble, like those nasty wolves."
Shen opened his beak to rebut, but paused, and continued on.
Ever since he had run away, more guards circled the walls. It would be harder than ever to escape, but Shen had already prepared for that moment. He looked over the edge of a brick veranda to the flowing sluice; a smirk on his beaked face.
Another day of school awaited him. His beak knurled at the thought. He had become the subject of much ridicule. Huang-Sho, his instructor, had grown especially cold to him, a fact which puzzled and disheartened Shen. The dull blue peacock's lusterless eyes always seemed to linger on him with disdain.
Jingfei noticed his downturned face, and pulled him into the shadow of the terrace.
"Are your eyes bothering you again?" She asked. Shen shook his head, not ready to speak.
After his bath, Shen shared a modest meal in the kitchen, and continued to the rear of the palace. He looked at the angular roof of the Instruction Hall, wary to enter. Other peacocks played on stone ledges around the hall, running and shrieking. Bright pigments of blue and pink drenched their feathers. Shen saw Rui—who sat next to Shen in class—showing off his flourishing tail. The children's yells turned to whispers when they saw Shen. He looked away.
"Pay them no mind. They'll come around. Be patient, my little ox." Jingfei said, shepherding him into the dim building. She sat him in the front row, greeted Huang-Sho, and left to complete her other errands.
"I'll see you after class. Behave!" She said. Shen couldn't help but give her a smile in return.
Goose servants lit and tended to the candles in the moody classroom. Shen scribbled with charcoal. He had a funny idea for a shadow play. This time, a little peacock took on an entire army of teachers. Each day, new ideas came to him. There were so many worlds to explore in fiction.
"Be seated," Huang-Sho said as the other children filed into the hall. The stoic peacock sat on his high-backed chair, observant and haughty behind glassy spectacles. Rui flicked his tail at Shen, glaring with an unapologetic side-eye. Shen tucked his wings into his robe and tried to ignore him.
Huang-Sho cleared his throat to silence the chatting youths. The old peacock stood, and brandished a flute-like instrument.
"This is a dizi," He said, "class, remind me again why peacocks don't play flutes?"
"No lips," Shen mumbled along with the rest of the classroom. He sat in the front row so that Huang-Sho could keep a better eye on him. Shen could feel the whole class watching him, too.
"Right you all are. No lips. Beaks aren't fit to whistle. Why? Because that is the way we are. Every species in China is different. We all have strengths and weaknesses. Never attempt the impossible."
The dark, moss-blue peacock tapped his spectacles with the dizi and looked at Shen. Quicker than the eye could follow, he flipped the flute into his black robe. It elicited a discordant harmony of whistles as it whipped through the air.
How did he learn to be so quick? Shen thought, envious of Huang-Sho's effortlessness.
"Jieru, could you tell the class the significance of the dizi in greater Peacock culture?"
Caught off guard, Shen searched for a response.
"No answer from the son of the Lord? Hmm?"
Shen could only mumble an "I don't know, sir."
"All the advantage, and yet as dull as a rock." Huang-Sho said with a squawk.
The other students snickered. Shen shrunk on his stool, wishing to be anywhere else.
"The dizi is a reminder that some things can't change." Huang-Sho began, "No matter how hard we try, we will never be able to play it. And so it is that rabbits cannot breathe fire, ducks cannot lay golden eggs, and pigs cannot fly. Each species has a role to play, like minstrels in a band."
Huang-Sho paced on the raised platform next to his easel.
"And what of peacocks? What part do we play?" He said, stopping suddenly. He turned, and unfurled his tail so fast, it sent a gust of wind through the room. Gasps of amazement rippled among the students. Huang's tail feathers' dazzling, dark colors and eye-like patterns bewitched and enthralled.
"We were made to rule," he said, with a tone that cemented his regality.
"There can only be one lord," he said, glancing at Shen.
"Even if they aren't the best choice."
Shen wished he had a tail like that. When he did, he'd probably keep it unfurled all the time, so that everyone knew what he really was.
"Now, back to our lesson on firework shell construction." Huang-Sho said, unfurling the parchment on his easel.
"Who can tell me the purpose of the fins on a rocket?"
Shen raised his wing, confident in his answer.
The sun sailed low on the horizon as Shen's meal completed. The banquet hall was beautiful as always, adorned in red and gold filigree. Extra shiny, the polished floor reflected a near-perfect mirror image of the Soothsayer as she knelt on her cushion in the corner. Unshuttered lanterns cast a warm glow over the polished ebony table, highlighting Shen's mother and father across from him.
A goose scribe waited patiently with parchment and writing materials. Shen had a set of brushes next to him, which he used to practice calligraphy. Ducks came to relinquish the tableware as his parents hunched over a red-tubed scroll.
"The Gongmen Trade Authority is asking for a treasury report from us," his mother, Yun, said.
"Since when do we report to them?" Lin said, "they grow bold—and foolish. We will not acknowledge them."
Yun closed the scroll and set it on a growing pile.
Shen's parents had barely spoken to him that evening, except to greet him formally and address his occasional question. He played with the brush in his feathers, noting their dexterity.
"Jieru, could you hand me the green brush?" Lin said, his voice suave and commanding. Shen looked at the colorful handles next to him, contemplating the dull rainbow. Blue was bright and vivid, while green was a dull and uninteresting. He took a moment to select the correct one, and handed it to a servant. Lin squinted his eyes, a worrying signal.
Lin grabbed a golden scroll.
"This one has the Imperial Seal," he said. The peacock's blood-orange feathers gripped it from within his fire-ringed robe.
"Another request to join the empire, I would imagine," Yun said in her soft, soothing tone. Lin read over the scroll. Shen didn't know much about the empire—only that it was ruled by an emperor, and had a big army. Shen wondered if the emperor was as smart as his father.
"As you said." Lin closed up the scroll and handed it to the scribe. "Decline."
The scribe dipped his brush and began to write.
"What if," Shen asked, "instead of us joining them, the empire joined us?"
"Ha!" Lin shouted in a rare show of mirth.
"One can dream, Jieru. I, for one, am quite content that we stay as we are: a city-state."
"We could have more, like the emperor." Shen said.
"We don't need more," his mother said, nodding to the scribe. "The Peacocks founded this city half a century ago. It has been good to us."
"My my, Jieru, where did you gain such ambition?" Lin said.
"Huang-Sho said that peacocks were meant to rule." Shen mumbled.
"Huang-Sho? Oh, did he tell you the dizi thing?" Lin chuckled.
"His go-to metaphor. But, I suppose he is right, in a roundabout way. We are a royal species."
Lin perked his head crest up and stroked it with a brilliant wing.
Shen struggled to understand. Why are some species meant to rule, and others not? He sighed and leaned over his table, wishing he had brought a toy to play with. Instead, he wet his brush and sketched a shadow play scene, his strokes weak and unfocused.
A terrible explosion shattered the calmness of the night. Brilliant lights lit the dusk with hue and form. Shen looked upon the spectacle with wonder and awe. The fireworks of Gongmen never ceased to spark feelings of wonderment.
"Mother, father!" Shen crowed as he ran past the golden throne of the Lord. The glassy, starry floor seemed infinite in height. He wasn't often allowed at the top of the Tower of the Sacred Flame. Through open walls, the airy balcony on the tower revealed the true expanse of Gongmen City. Shen gazed over the enormous sprawl of buildings, choppy like a sea. Red light saturated steam and smoke that bit at his nostrils.
"I haven't seen a batch this good since last Moon Festival!" his father said.
Lin leaned on the bannister, his blue feathers spangled with a harmony of shades. His fiery robe perfectly complemented the exploding stars in the distant sky. Shen's mother eyed the heavens, her expression joyful. She looked down to sketch figures and notes on a small scroll.
"Go ahead, test him," she whispered to her husband, thinking herself quiet enough not to be overheard.
"And what if he fails? We've seen the signs. His eyes may not be adequate."
"We won't know until he tries."
Lin cleared his throat and addressed Shen.
"Ahh, fireworks. Their splendor is unmatched." Lin said.
"Their importance cannot be understated. It is the duty of our family to craft and evaluate them. Peacocks are the heralds of color and joy, and fireworks are our gift to China."
Shen was very proud to be a part of that gift. Mingled in that pride, however, was the uncertainty of his role.
"Blue is always the hardest to make," his father said, "can you tell me the recipe, young one?"
"Yes, of course!... wait… Okay, just give me a moment."
Shen racked his brain for the concoction which would yield such vivid hues. Counting on one wing, he puzzled out the quantities needed. A shell cried as it streaked through the sky, followed by a resounding boom, seconds after the light.
"Copper metals create blue, and variations in copper chloride's temperature can modify the intensity," Shen proclaimed, proud of his deduction. His jubilant beak and bright eyes reflected the circles of fire above.
Shen's father chuckled, "fancy that. We have a little chemist brewing."
Shen's mother cast her sweet gaze toward him. She closed her scroll and regarded the young Lord with compassionate blue eyes.
"It seems like just yesterday you were but a chick," she said, "I've loved watching you learn and grow. You are a bright and ambitious bird, just like your father."
Shen's father smiled down at Shen. He gestured a large, robed wing toward the expanse of buildings before them, dark and smoldering like pitch.
"You must understand this, my son. One day you will rule this city, as I have before you, and my grandfather before me."
Shen's father's voice betrayed a note of seriousness.
"A ruler must be unyielding and fierce—not only in his command, but also in his love. To betray is to fail. And if your subjects love you, they will never betray you. Remember that."
Shen felt flush with fervor. To have his parents believe in him was the relief he needed. Still, he thought of his plan to again run away later that very night. He had obligations to his family, but Zun's presence was too compelling. It couldn't be betrayal if he simply wanted to see Zun, right?
Suddenly, Lin's expression seemed to contort, as if he were trying to phrase a riddle.
"Now… I need you to know this. There are certain… things about this city that you are not yet ready to see."
Shen tilted his head, waiting for his father to find his words.
"Lin," his mother said, stopping him. He nodded to her, and cleared his throat.
"Which… is why, we were so concerned when you ran off," Shen's father said, "but we trust that you understand how dangerous it can be."
Shen nodded untruthfully. Lin seemed satisfied.
"So, can you tell me the formula for that shell… there?"
His wing rose, coinciding with a tremendously sized, pale ball of light. The brilliant sphere seemed to expand forever… until it phased out of existence. Only a thunderous punctuation confirmed it ever existed at all. Shen frowned. It must be a trick. Blue again?
"It's uh… blue! So, that means it has copper metal in it…"
He gave his answer as if delivering bad news. The firework was dull almost to appear white.
Shen's father sighed, and his expression faded to one of sorrow.
"That firework was yellow, Shen..." Lin said. His wife set her scroll down and grabbed his wing with hopefulness.
"He just needs a little help distinguishing colors. It will be alright."
"It is unmistakable. He is colorblind! Never will he be a firework technician," Shen's father shook his head in shame.
Shen looked up at his parents, crestfallen. His mother held him close with her wings, beckoning him to try again. As Shen struggled, his father faced the unreachable horizon, wings hidden within his sleeves. His hunched body posed like a verdigris-rusted gargoyle.
Shen's destiny didn't seem as clear as they said.
Jingfei's snores measured the seconds. Shen lay in his bed, sleep an impossibility. His room was dark, but his night-attuned vision laid out his surroundings. He silently crept off of his bed and fished the goose robe he had stashed underneath it. With it in his naked wings, he tip-toed to the paper window furthest from his maid. She snorted as a board creaked under his meager weight. He paused, making to open the window just as soon as he verified her slumber.
The broad gutter of water beneath his room masked his noises as he crept along a brick ledge. Light from the shrouded half-moon sparkled off tiny whitecaps. He nearly slipped on a patch of moss as he made his way toward the end of the channel. There, the water flowed through a small culvert with a rusting grate.
He robed himself and went through, wishing he had brought a lamp. His only sensations were the sound of trickling water, a chilly draft on his face, and the slickness of the slimy tunnel. His defeat earlier earlier disheartened him.
Colorblind.
It sort of made sense, if he looked back at it. But things weren't all black and white. Maybe he could still be a firework technician, if he tried hard enough. He continued on, knowing his escape from those expectations awaited him. When he reached a fork in the tunnel, he stopped.
Was it right, or left?
He couldn't remember. His one time scouting this exit was less than illuminating. He made a left, careful not to slip from the slight grade of the tunnel. He peaked a wing from his robe to balance on the slick wall. The tunnel brightened as he advanced further. Soon the passage ended, and he exited the damp space with relief.
He vaulted over a grate. Water from it poured into the floor. Wet, deteriorating wood sunk under his clawed feet, and he saw that he wasn't outside. Rather, he stood on the ringed walkway of a large chamber. Behind slatted wood, a cluster of red lanterns shimmered on dewy walls. Other tubes of water flowed into the chamber, collecting and exiting in yet another large tunnel.
I must be underneath the palace… Shen thought. He had never considered that the palace might have a basement. A large stairway led from the chamber, and in the center rested a platform ringed by flowing water. Shen's ears perked as the air sung with the slice of metal. On the platform, a figure whipped a huge, wavy spear around with abandon. Shen paused and lifted himself on the wood slats to get a better view.
It wore a startlingly red robe trimmed in gold. Wild movements reduced it to a blur. It threw the spear in the air, split its legs on the ground, rotated its entire body, and caught the spear, flourishing it in an impressive display of skill. When it stopped, it fanned his dark tail—a peacock tail—one which Shen knew he had seen before. The spectacles on the peacock's face confirmed Shen's thinking.
Huang-Sho?! He thought, tilting his head in disbelief. The wood he gripped creaked, alerting the peacock instructor to his presence.
"Who's there?" Huang-Sho shouted, twitching his scowling head to the sound. He launched some kind of rope-knife Shen's way, who gasped as it embedded itself in the wood slat by his head. The rope went taut as Huang pulled, and Shen yelped as the slat was ripped free of its nails. He desperately scrabbled back into the tunnel, heart racing as he splashed.
He hurriedly caught his breath in the fork of the passageway. Darkness enveloped him, and he could hardly believe what he had seen.
Huang-Sho… he knows Kung Fu?
Shen leaned against the slimy wall and huffed. If Huang-Sho knew Kung Fu, then maybe he could teach it. It was a possibility too tempting to ignore. He shivered in the drafty tunnel, already drowning in secrets. Huang-Sho's hidden nature twisted in his mind.
With a moment's rest, he felt the fork in the tunnel; the right course just inches away.
…Should I go back? He almost went to confront Huang-Sho, but hesitated. Huang seemed like he didn't want to be seen.
Once again regaining his composure, he assumed the rightmost passageway. It led through a similar tunnel, but much steeper. Slim slashes of light cut into the flowing water from above. He lifted a slotted panel above him, and found himself in a secluded alleyway. The dingy, rustic buildings of Gongmen City towered above him, ripe with smells and shining lantern light. His heart jumped—he was back!—but the encounter occupied his mind. He couldn't wait to tell Zun what he had seen.
He moved with purpose, sure to stick to the main streets as he had learned during his last outing. Random passers-by bobbed on in their strides. Shen struggled to remember the location of the tree, but the locale became ever familiar as he made his way south. The lantern-strings thinned, and plants began to overtake the Gongmen structures. Through one more sidelong alley, the gracious dead tree rose against a moony sky. A short wolf kicked his heels against the tree's stone well. Shen nearly tripped on his waterlogged robe when he saw him.
"Jieru!" The wolf said, hopping off of the wall.
"Zun," Shen ran to greet him, giggling. The two exchanged words on what had happened since they had been apart. The wolf related his pack's successes intercepting rice and grain shipments, and his continual trouble with Kang's bullying. Shen filled Zun in, but he withheld the details of his real home. He didn't want Zun to know that he was the son of the lord.
"Wow, your school teacher knows Kung Fu? Maybe he could teach you!"
"I have no idea. He seemed really mad."
"Well, you gotta try. You! A Kung Fu warrior! That would be so cool! Yah!" Zun made a weak kick with his stubby leg and lost his balance. Shen giggled and helped him up.
"Come on," Zun said, brushing his coat, "my cousin told me of this amazing street fighter hideout in the middle of Gongmen City. They are probably starting soon! Move your tail feathers!"
Shen laughed, his breast joyous once more. Zun hopped on all fours through the city's mysterious, twisting pathways, Shen hot on his brushy tail.
A/N
Love young Shen c: I have been working on this off and on since January. There's lots of story content here that I tried to keep as concise as possible, while also keeping the story advancing in a realistic way. Huang-Sho seems to be a more important character than we initially realized :o
I know I said in a previous note I would have more chapters by now. Well, I find it hard to work on this story sometimes because of how important it is to me, as counterintuitive as that may seem. I want it to be great. Sometimes my writing isn't great. But I digress.
Next chapter is returning to the present, which I am sure some of you are waiting for. I have not started writing the next chapter yet, so it might take a little time. Maybe I will get my mojo back and everything will go smoothly. Until next time, let me know what you thought.
