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Birds are chirping. In the highest branches of a Ginkgo tree, a Goldcrest bird is singing the rising sun. For such a small animal, it sure sings loud enough to shake the sleep off the inhabitants of the neighbourhood. It could be the mountains' echo. It could be the silence of the wee hours of the day. But for sure, the morning song finds its way inside the homes, where the people are slowly waking up.
More Goldcrest birds join in the singing, turning the recital into a symphony. Nestled on the highest branches of the century-old Gingko tree, the orchestra performs in the centre of the plateau. Right in the middle of what appears to be a collective garden circled by Yaodong houses, encased in the mountain walls circling the plateau. Family stone houses with polished picketed fences, surrounding the roundabout housing the tree.
Bao Shan, or 'treasure mountain', is the name of the town located on the mountain. It's also the name of the mountain. And sure enough, the serene aura surrounding the place is a treasure of its own, along with its valley boasting blooms every season of the year.
The city used to be a lord's mesnil. Enamoured with the landscape, and fine design, the Lord spent a fortune crafting a maze of a garden, filled with flowers for different seasons. His enterprise eventually evolved into a titanesque project, fueled by the notoriety the Lord gained from his endeavour. By the end of his days, the ever-blooming garden expanded across the mountain's valley surrounding the lake, pushing most of the wildlife into the forest.
Over the generations, the house's prestige fell while the Steam Age birthed a new wave of affluent families in the region. The mines and woodwork of the region were quick to provide a fortune for the global trade winners. Gradually, Bao Shan morphed into an affluent small town, filled with family homes and shops and gained the status of a municipality. The ever-blooming valley, with its maze garden, rose to the status of a protected monument.
In one house niched on Bao Shan's plateau, curtains open on one girl. One sleepy middle school girl, still in her sleeping dress and halfway out of the realm of dreams. After pushing her window rail centimetres to the side, she ties the curtains she just opened in an attempt to let the sunlight into her bedroom. She won't leave it open for too long. Just enough minutes to freshen her room with the chilly autumn morning air.
As the girl bends to tuck her bedsheets in, her dishevelled tresses fall in her face, dancing around her fingers. Somewhere between her mattress and the wall, twin hair ties are candidly waiting to be found. As she plumps her pillow, she retrieves her ties and rushes out of her bedroom.
Entering the still unlit hall, she takes felted steps toward the bathroom on the opposite side. Walking past her parents' bedroom, she notices the light coming from the gap under the closed door. How strange. Her mother should have already closed the curtains as she would be enjoying her breakfast after sending her father to work. Did she wake up earlier than she normally would? Nevermind. She's already up.
When she opens the bathroom door, her father emerges from the bedroom. As he smiles at her, she notices his formal attire.
"My little Mei, aren't you going to wish your old father some good morning?" He playfully says.
"Good morning, Father." Says the girl as she makes her way into her father's arms.
The hug lasts for a few seconds, but it's already so much for the girl whose father is already out when she wakes up, and still out when she's going to bed. Right as they part, her mother is closing the curtains. The previously dimly lit hall turns dark again.
"Up in the bathroom, little miss. Your father will still be there when you are done with your morning routine." Says her mother as she closes the bedroom door behind her. She's dressed in a casual heavy dress, her hair held in a bun. "I hope you didn't forget we are going along with your Father to the train station?"
"Good morning, Mother. I didn't forget." Answers the girl before turning around and entering the bathroom.
She did forget. Yet, her parents are not going to call her out on that slip. She's awake and they still have time for the trip.
The little girl, Mei, along with her parents exit their home. The sun has risen and the neighbourhood is springing with life. Down the mountain, shops are open and welcoming their first customers of the day. The smell of coffee is taking over the morning air. Delivery men are sporting courier bags and knocking on doors, exchanging the newspapers and magazines for a few coins.
At the foot of the mountain stands a bus stop. A few people are already waiting in line. They don't have to wait for more than a quarter-hour before the expected bus stops. Falling in the line with her mother in front of her and her father behind, Mei nervously twists her mittens' ends. It's not the school bus she usually takes during the week. It's one of the big buses that travel hundreds of kilometres. The ones with luggage storage, curtains on windows and air conditioning.
The journey is long. Half an hour long. Seated between her parents, Mei gazes through the window as the bus speeds by a forest of trees losing their leaves. The bus' vibrations, the sun rays shining through the glass window, the blurry grass beside the road. The succession of nearly identical trees. The serenity of the moment puts Mei in a contemplative headspace.
After what felt like an hour, and a few minutes at the same time, cityscape replaced the forest and the bus slowed down. A dozen minutes later, the bus came to a stop and people made their exit. They finally arrived at the train station. Her father stood first and discharged the vanity case. The family ousted the way they boarded. With Mei in the middle and her father leading the way.
Inside the train station, Mei and her Mother remained out of the waiting line as her Father registered his train ticket. There weren't many people queuing yet. At this time on a Saturday morning, more people were arriving than departing from the station. The station of the 'vibrant city' of Cheng Du, as one could read on the advertising panels spread across the station. Her Father registered in minutes and made his way back to his family.
"All right !" He exclaimed. "Let's wait at a cafe in the retail space. I still have forty minutes left before boarding. We might as well make the best out of the trip."
Extending his hand for his daughter, he added. "Did any of the cafes catch your eye, my little Mei?"
The child nodded with enthusiasm before pointing at one cafe with glistening pastries on display. Walking hand in hand, the family joyfully made its way to the chosen cafe.
Early in the afternoon, Mother and daughter were back home. Heading toward her bedroom, Mei stopped when her Mother called her.
"You can have a short nap if the trip forth and back exhausted you. But don't sleep too much. You will have trouble falling asleep tonight if you oversleep now."
"Yes, Mother." Replied Mei while resuming her walk toward her bedroom.
Feeling wide awake, the girl changed into a more comfortable dress and opted to start her homework. Completing her homework on Saturday means she will have Sunday to review her answers with her parents. Focused on her work, Mei didn't hear her Mother entering her room. Yet, she perked at the smell of baozi from the plate in her Mother's hand.
"You have been working for two hours already. How is it going?" Asked her Mother as she sat the plate on a corner of the desk, petting her daughter's head.
"It's not too complicated. I think I will be good for now. Thank you for the Baozi."
"Of course, sweetheart. I will be downstairs if you need some help. I know your Father is the most helpful now that you are in middle school. But I can still help."
"Yes, Mother." Pausing to look at her sheets, Mei turns to face her Mohter before asking. "Can we wait until tomorrow before reviewing my work? I want to try on my own first."
"We can." A gracious smile takes over her Mother's features as she exits the room.
Once alone, Mei decides she can take a short break to enjoy the snacks before finishing her homework.
She had to admit the fatigue induced by the earlier trip was starting to catch up on her. She probably should have started with a nap. Yet, she cannot afford to take a nap anymore. If she takes a nap, she won't be able to enjoy a complete night of sleep. A couple of baozi later, she stood up and walked out of her room toward the kitchen downstairs. The short walk might help wake her enough to end her homework without dozing off.
Following a slow and uneventful Sunday, Mei woke up Monday morning well-rested and ready for the starting week. After a full body stretch, she rose from her bed and opened her curtains. Sliding her window rail a few centimetres to the side, Mei looks through the window where the neighbourhood Ginkgo tree sheds its yellow leaves. Golden pieces swiftly flew downward, falling on the ones already littering the ground.
Turning around, she shuffled around her bed, tucking her bedsheets in. Her satin headwrap was still on her head. The mornings are getting too cold for a shower so early in the day. Mei settles for cleaning her face with a cotton disk and face lotion. The shower she took before getting in bed the day before has to be enough. She will get into her middle school uniform afterwards.
Unravelling her headwrap, she pours an ounce of hair milk into the palm of her hand and brushes her fingers between her tresses on the right half of her head. Gently, from the end up to the roots. Just like her Mother taught her. Tying as many hairbands down the tail as she can, she repeats the process on her left side. Walking downstairs after her morning routine, she finds her Mother already dressed for the day.
"Good morning, Mother." Greeted Mei while hugging her Mother.
"Good morning, little miss." She answered, petting the top of her daughter's head.
Mei took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of her Mother's perfume. She could smell soothing flowers and the alluring notes of a woman's perfume. Unsweetened. Unlike the fruity mist of her hair milk.
"Have your breakfast before it gets cold. We will leave in a short time."
Mei sits in the dining area of the kitchen. A bowl containing rice porridge is waiting for her. The meal is still warm and the smell makes her stomach feel suddenly empty. After emptying her bowl, she cleans it and leaves it on the dish drainer rack beside the sink. She runs to the entrance door as she can hear the house keys jingling in her Mother's hand.
Mother and daughter leave their home. While Mei is heading down the mountain to catch the bus for her middle school, her Mother will walk a few miles before reaching the elementary school she coordinates as the principal.
Teens and pre-teens are waiting in line when Mei arrives at the feet of the mountain. The few seated places are already taken. Cheerful voices and playful banters fill the space. Far from the quietness of the plateau, middle and high schoolers are catching up on their whereabouts of the weekend. Arguably anything ever happens in two days. Yet, there seems to always be something up to a friendly mundane conversation as early as Monday morning.
Recounts of the previous day's supper are exchanged with the news of a sibling who caught a cold. In a corner, a teacher is being impersonated while snickers and muffled laughter complement the performance. A kid is walking in circles, going up and down an imaginary lane, crushing some dry leaves into the ground. More kids arrive at the bus stop, some bringing more chatter and others falling into silence after a few greetings.
Despite living in Bao Shan since she could remember, she isn't familiar with the other kids at the bus stop. Her former elementary school recess friends fell out of touch in middle school, when her days got suddenly busier and her lessons denser. The transition from elementary school to middle school has been far from smooth for the little girl.
From having to wake up an hour earlier to arriving two hours later at home, from a rhythm of one lesson each day to multiple days-long lectures, there were just too many uncomfortable changes in Mei's routine for her to keep up. 'Keeping up'. These words were growing a little more unnerving every day. 'Keeping up' meant not being good enough. 'Keeping up' meant not being able to play by the lake during the warm Sundays. 'Keeping up' meant disappointing her parents. She didn't want to disappoint. And three years into her middle school studies, she was barely keeping up excellent grades.
Mei is jostled from her daze by the sound of the school bus brakes. Falling in the line of children, she boards the bus after validating her ticket. In twenty minutes, she will be entering the school grounds. That would be just enough time to review her notes from the last biology lesson. She rummages a bit through the contents of her backpack before remembering she left her notebook in the outside pocket 'for easier access'. It would actually be easier if she could remember before searching her backpack.
Eighth days following her Father's departure, the man has still yet to come back home. Instead, the family exchanges greetings on the landline phone. More for the sake of the little girl who is already asleep when her Father calls in the dead of the night. The man, a Doctor in a pediatric clinic in Cheng Du, has been in the capital for a week. There seemed to be a special case of a woman's pregnancy, for which her Father was recommended to assist by an old acquaintance.
After glossing over the episodes of her week for a couple of minutes, Mei listened with rapt attention to the tale of a luminescent baby. How the Mother's baby bump would faintly glow in the night or when she drank a cold beverage. How her bump's temperature would be warmer after each glowing episode. And finally, how the newborn shone as bright as the sun in the midwife's hands upon airing his first cry.
"We are still observing the luminescent baby, so I will ask you to keep that story between the three of us until it's making headlines in the newspapers." Warned her Father.
"I will." Answered Mei.
"Also." Added her Father. "I will extend my stay in Bei Jing to help oversee the observation of the baby. Your Mother and I decided you will need a tutor."
The new information left Mei speechless.
"At least to review your homework, in the beginning." Her Father added after a few seconds of silence.
"I… When am I going to meet the tutor ?" Asked Mei with hesitation in her voice.
"Starting October." In less than ten days.