Ch 11 Lying to A Child
"Love fortune-telling…"
Wang Yao had certainly seen the way his silly female classmates plucking petals before. Just as he was searching words to subtly reject her, "General Elizaveta" opened her mouth authoritatively:
"I'm different from those silly girls! All they know is twirling little flowers. But me," she cleared her throat and proudly held the juju in front of his face, "My grandma's grandpa is Petofi! My grandpa is Attila the Hun! Every generation in my family is big hero on horseback! I use my ancestral juju to do fortune-telling and I got it right every time!"
As she just finished her words, a three-year-old boy immediately got out of a soldier's arms, stumbling towards them, climbed onto Wang Yao's knees and whispered into his ear with irritation.
"Damn! She didn't do it right! Do you know who she said it was for me?" little boy moaned in anger and frustration, almost about to cry. "It was big fool Antonio!"
"The General" immediately refuted his opinion, "General Lovino! I am the five-star general and whatever I told you is right!"
"I want a cute girl, but Antonio is a stupid boy!" The little boy buried his face on Wang Yao's neck and cried. The feather-like soft hair tickled Wang Yao but he didn't dare to laugh—afterall, laughing at a crying and whining "general" wasn't very nice.
"So what! Boys can be with boys, too! I did it for Feliciano and his is a boy too, but he looked very happy!" "General Elizaveta" resumed her naughty smiles, "So now, the juju needs to ask you some questions. First, have you loved? "
Wang Yao answered "no" without much thought, then noticed "the general" had her green eyes fixed on his knees and then quickly snatched something from it. He realized that, as the pouty "general" Lovino was rubbing his little body against his arms, a small pouch hidden in his chest pocket dropped on his knees.
"The General" flipped it over and examined this delicate little thingy. She couldn't read the words embroided, but the pink silk emiting an elusive fragrance—a favorite scent among Moscow gals—as well as the violet flowers embroided with three-color threads of red, yellow and violet had undoubtely gave away Wang Yao's secret.
The six-year-old "General" stared at the fidgeting young man with a solemn look on her face. "You're terrible." She cleared her throat in seriousness, "I wanted to do the love-telling for you, but you lied to the holy juju. The juju will be upset!"
How could a person face, with full composure, the conviction of a child who was lied to by himself? Fortunately, Lovino jumped out from Wang Yao's arms, yelling in his very sweet and sharp voice "Kiss me!", and strode his two short legs—towards where he was running came Natasha and Toris who just left from the bunker.
"The General" soon diverted her attention to the beautiful pair and also ran towards them, while kept turning her head to Wang Yao, "Auntie Vera said that you're still a good boy if you admit your mistake. I'll come back to you later but you need to tell me the truth!"
Why did he lie to a child? Why?
And in that unforgettable evening, under the Pushkin statue, didn't he also say to Vanya that he haven't fallen in love with someone in Moscow? When had he become such a person that lie to a child and his best friend? "No, that wasn't love." he murmured like a little kid, searching for an excuse. "That was before the war, nothing but teenager's foolish fondness…"
He raised up his burning face from his palms and fixed his gaze at the pouch little Liza put back on his knees. As he examined the pouch—the fine stitches were neat and compact, the embroiderment so delicately done and matched with the rich colors. Which girl could have made such a delicate pouch if she was not without a true and earnest heart? And those dainty words embroidered: 'Conquor the Fascists, Return in triumph.'—Lerika"
Didn't he always keep inside all those scrap papers with his biology diary? Didn't he always cherish the pouch in his chest pocket and would not separate from it for a minute?
"You said you haven't loved anyone, looking for excuses…as if this does justice to little Liza and Vanya." said Wang Yao to himself, "But are you worthy to Lerika?"
"As she walked she sang a sweet song,
Of her silver eagle of the steppe,
Of the one she'd loved so dearly
And the one whose letters she had kept."
He saw Natasha standing not too farway, carrying a rare smile on her face and teaching a song to the cluster of children surrounding her. Yes, she was teaching them "Katyusha"… At the age of fifteen, he was sent to a school in Moscow, along with the sorrow for his deceased father and separation from home. It was the girl sitting next to him, Lerika Lisichina, who awakened the liveliness of a young man's heart with her bright smiles. She helped him with Russian language and taught him songs; the first song he learned from her was indeed "Katyusha"…
On June 21, 1941 of the eve of graduation, they danced waltz one after another; at the end, stood shoulder by shoulder in the hallway outside the classroom. Lerika's curly chestnut hair and rosy cheeks appeared particularly beautiful under the gleaming stars. "Yao, is there anything you want to tell me?" "Yes." He musterred up the courage, but what came out of his mouth all turned into things like raising oaks, breeding cranes and improving the strains of grass—things that would have received praises from even the most fussy teacher in biology lab, but turned out to be total nonsense in here.
The war broke out on the next day. All the boys in class went to the army office and enlisted themselves out of young men's typical heroism; all the girls, meanwhile, were sewing pouches for them out of typical romanticism of young girls. Most pouches were made simply for friendship and patriotism, but the one he received from Lerika was so much finer than others… Then, the army got busy and they didn't stay in touch.
"We didn't even admit our feelings to each other." murmured sullenly to himself as he sat on the ground. In the beginning, he really missed her at the front and hoped to receive her letters; but, from some time on, he somehow stopped missing her…...probably around the same time when he met Ivan Braginsky. Now, he must admit the fact that he did liked Lerika, but he just didn't want to admit it in front of Vanya. He didn't want Vanya to know that he had a "relationship" before.
But why lying to Vanya?
He quickly found a reason: it was because of wartime. He, Wang Yao, was a hero's son. If others knew that he was thinking of girl and nonsense during the time of war, it would surely bring shame to his father's good name.
"Yes, exactly." He said it out loud, as if by doing so would give himself more assurance—afterall, he himself couldn't really believe this lofty and idealistic reason…
"General Elizaveta" ran towards him, her small round face contained a convincing smile.
"Have you thought it through?" she shouted, "Let me do another telling for you…"
When right then, Wang Yao heard the familiar buzzing sound above their heads—several bombers marked with the iron cross were thrusting, not to Moscow, but towards their campground by the road!
"Lie down!"
Without thinking, he threw himself over to the dumbstrucked little girl and pressed her solidly under his body. Deafening bombing sound and children's earthshaking crying and screaming surrounded them…
It seemed that almost a century's time had passed before the bombing was finally over. Wang Yao helped the little girl up. Every single child at the campground, including the impeccable "General Elizaveta", was all crying.
No blood. Nobody got hurt.
"It was only sounds over here." An experienced soldier opened his mouth, "The bombs all went over to the cavalry unit."
An unprecedented sense of dread suddenly gripped and emptied out his heart. Wang Yao rushed to the cavalry side…