Chapter 13 — Palms and Fists

For someone who had a less-than-genial relationship with his father, Yixing dreamed about him a lot. The dream started out quietly enough, with him as a young boy being brought into the throne room thrice daily to bow and pay his respects to the Emperor and the Ancestors. In this particular dream, he was a small eight-year-old boy. In those days, most of his time was spent in the harem being cared for by nurses, spoiled with attention by the women, taught to read and write. The only times he ever saw the Emperor were during these short visits to the throne room.

What always stood out in his memory was the color red since the room was overwhelmingly so. Red flooring, red columns, red decoration, a red throne with a red cushion, red beams on the ceiling, red dragons coiled around the legs of the royal throne. And his father, dressed in red robes with golden trim, two demons embroidered into the chest of his garments, the Imperial headdress resting on his royal head. In his eight-year-old eyes, the man was an untouchable giant, and Yixing was very much afraid. 

But in this crimson dreamworld, the young prince would get down on his knees, as he was instructed to three times a day, and he would kowtow to his terrifying demigod father. But when his forehead touched the wooden floor, the scenery changed. Instead of red, the throne room was ashen gray and cold. The dragons coiling protectively around the throne turned into serpents, and the stately columns that held the ceiling had fallen, and the ceiling was gone. Above him, a storm was churning in the heavens. And when he lifted his head to look at the Emperor, he was no longer the godly giant that made him feel small.

There was a young man with pale skin sitting on the throne with a helpless look on his face, eyes wide with horror at the death and decay that surrounded him. It was only when the young emperor looked into the little boy’s eyes that he realized that the emperor was himself. 

—

When Yixing’s eyes opened, he found that the effort physically pained him. He forgot, momentarily, that he was on a ship and his heart stopped when he felt the ground lurching beneath him. His eyes darted around, scanning his environment. He found Xiaohe still sleeping, but through the cracks of the deck above, blue light was starting to filter through. Dawn was approaching.

Mornings were becoming hard for the prince, who had to wake from the bliss of unconsciousness and ignorance and return to a world where his loved ones were dead and an army of rebels was hunting him. But this morning was especially annoying because the pirate Yixing was forced to sleep next to had wrapped his arms around the prince in the middle of the night. And the man was evidently having an especially enjoyable dream as he was whispering some vulgar things in his sleep.

“Yah… Ling Ling… tell me something… does your husband do it like this?” the man was muttering, and Yixing’s skin crawled. The man tightened his hold, snaking his hand around the prince’s torso. Yixing squirmed, trying to get out of the man’s grasp without waking him. But each time he tried to wriggle his way out, the man just pulled him even closer. The man started to make kissing noises with his mouth, and Yixing groaned.

“Please… come here…” the man kept muttering. At this point, the man started to nuzzle the back of Yixing’s shoulder. Yixing tensed and then shuddered at the contact. 

Let me go, let me go, he kept chanting in his head as he tried to wrestle his way out of the man’s embrace. 

“Please… put your hands on me…” he said. The man’s hand were starting to wander. He was still muttering his sleep. Yixing’s patience had been tested too long. He sighed, freed one arm from the man’s hold and elbow him in the face before he could bring his mouth any closer. 

“Ack—!” the man shouted, arms coming off Yixing and flying to his face. He jerked out of his position so violently that he shoved Yixing aside, shoving him towards Xiaohe and waking everyone else below deck. The quiet was torn asunder by the curses and shouts that suddenly filled the space. Yixing felt as if he had just awakened a sleeping dragon. 

“What in the world—?” Xiaohe muttered, waking up. Yixing was just about to explain himself when he felt someone grab the front of his clothes and pulled off the bunk. Yixing grabbed onto the man’s wrists as the pirate brought him closer to his face. His nose was bloody and his eyes, wild with anger.

“You pathetic little—!” the man said, shaking Yixing violently. 

“I’m sorry—!” Yixing blurted out, but the man was already making a fist and raising it to Yixing’s face.

“You like to fight in your sleep, eh?” the pirate shouted, spit flying into Yixing’s face. “Let’s find you a more permanent sleep, then!”

“Stop it! Let go of him!” Xiaohe shouted, jumping onto her feet and trying to wedge herself between the gigantic man and the prince. She tried to throw the man of balance, make him let go his grip on Yixing’s shirt, but his grasp was like iron. The pirates in the back were egging him on, shouting profanities at both Yixing and Xiaohe. 

“It was an accident, I swear!” Yixing said, fear flooding his eyes, apparent in his voice. The man looked like a demon with blood flowing down his face. He brought his elbow back and Yixing shut his eyes and turned his face aside, readying himself for the blow.

Xiaohe ripped herself from the pirates who were holding her back. She launched herself at the man holding Yixing, grabbed his forearm, brought down to it, and clamped her teeth down hard on his skin. 

“Agh—!” the man screamed in pain. The force of Xiaohe’s bite and the ensuing pain made him let go of Yixing’s clothes and the prince dropped down to the ground. But when the man jerked his arm away from Xiaohe’s teeth, he elbowed her in the chest, knocking her to the wall and knocking the wind out of her. Xiaohe began grasping at her rib cage, where her chest bindings were starting to restrict her breathing again. But in the moment, that same man had a hand around .

She grabbed and scratched at the hand clamped around her windpipe. Yixing got back to his feet and leapt to Xiaohe’s defense. 

“What in hell is going on down here?!” 

The Quarter Master appeared in the middle of the commotion just in time to see Yixing kick his attacker in the gut. When the man gripped his stomach and fell over to the side, Yixing looked up, met the Quarter Master’s irate gaze, and the blood drained from his face. The next time someone grabbed him by the shirt, it was the Quarter Master dragging both he and Xiaohe back up to the main deck.

“You two think you can come aboard and cause trouble on your first night?” the Quarter Master shouted, throwing him and Xiaohe down onto the boards. The Quarter Master was already reaching for his sword.

“Let me explain! Please!” Yixing shouted, but he was silenced by the ringing of steel being brandished as the Quarter Master produced his sword.

“You will be silent!” Quarter Master screamed, pointing the tip of his blade at the prince. “I will explain things around here! You may be the captain’s guest, but you answer to me as the rest of the crew does, vermin!”

“He didn’t start the trouble!” Xiaohe shouted, still holding onto her ribs. “I saw it, that man grabbed him first!”

“Liar!” the rest of the crew shouted behind the Quarter Master, and Yixing shrank back, knowing full well that he had been the one to elbow the other man first. 

“Shut up!” Quarter Master shouted and then switched the blade over to Xiaohe. “And you will hold your tongue, lion cub, or I’ll slice it from your mouth! The only one whose witness holds any weight around here is mine! And what I saw was His Highness starting an ungodly row below deck!”

“And I apologize!” Yixing shouted in his own defense. Xiaohe was irked that Yixing kept apologizing.

“He drew blood, Quarter Master Zhou!” shouted the dreaming pirate whose face was red with his own blood. “I want to see some punishment!”

“And there will be,” the Quarter Master said, turning his gaze to the captain’s guests once more. When a smile appeared on Quarter Master Zhou’s face, it looked cruel.

“My dear prince,” Quarter Master Zhou said. “You may be the lord of the land, but out here at sea, we are not your subjects.”

Yixing swallowed. Quarter Master Zhou put his sword back into its sheath and then turned to the crew.

“Men!” Quarter Master Zhou said. “Drop your buckets and scrubs. Take the day off, play some lots! Today, His Royal Highness is going to scrub the entire ship!” 

When the crew erupted into shouts of approval and clapped each other on the back, Yixing’s expression remained blank. He had no idea yet what such a punishment meant. 

—

Zhou shoved the bucket into Yixing’s arms, and the prince nearly dropped it from the weight. He put the bucket down on the deck and then Zhou tossed him a wooden scrub with tough bristles, stained brown and black from years of use. Whatever was in the bucket smelled terrible. Zhou kicked at the bucket before stomping down once on the deck.

“Do you know what quality serves a ship best, Your Highness?” Zhou asked. Yixing looked at him. The Quarter Master was stout, short man, but was built like a boulder. His arms bulged in his sleeves and his chest was perpetually puffed with muscle. He had a face like a gorilla.

“No, sir,” Yixing answered. The Quarter Master scoffed.

“Buoyancy, first,” the Quarter Master said, “And then watertightness. Look down at the deck. What do you see?”

Yixing shrugged. “Floor boards, sir.”

“And what condition would you say the floor boards are in?”

Yixing looked down at the deck and couldn’t see anything wrong with them. When he looked at Zhou with a lank expression, the Quarter Master glowered.

“The deck needs to swabbed constantly,” Zhou said. “Be very thorough. The boards need to be soaked in saltwater to keep the planks damp and swollen. It needs to be tarred to keep it watertight. Start here at the bow then go astern. I will inspect your work, and I expect nothing but godly perfection from the son of an Emperor.” 

Quarter Master Zhou cast him one last dirty look before turning and leaving the prince to his punishment. Elsewhere on deck, the men had already overturned boxes and barrels and made tables on which to play gambling games and watch with smug self-satisfaction as the prince was made to do the work of the lowest of sailors. 

Yixing looked down at the pair of buckets. Inside one was saltwater, to dampen the boards, and in the other was a mixture of pine tar, linseed oil, and beeswax. He looked up at the sun that was beginning to climb to its peak and then at the long stretch of deck before him. The ship could be anything between 15 and 20 meters. With a sigh of resignation, he undid the buttons on his sleeves and pushed them up. He got down to his, clasping the scrub in his hands, and began his task. 

After an hour of labor, Yixing was starting to understand why he had been given this particular punishment. As the son of an emperor, he had never done a day’s worth of real work in his life. His soft palms were starting to redden and blister from the constant rubbing against the wood of the scrub. The pain was not helped by constant contact with the salt in the bucket of sea water. His knees suffered from all the kneeling, his back suffered from constantly bending over, his shoulder suffered from the endless back-and-forth movement. The sun was beating down on his head, fueling headaches. And all the while, the crew taunted and insulted him. 

“You missed a spot, Your Highness!”

“It is quite a different view from your knees, isn’t it, Good Prince?”

“You honor us with this service, Your Highness!”

“Be careful, you might cut your delicate hands on the sea water!”

Yixing clenched his jaw tight, forcing himself not to say anything in response. But the hot sun and the gibes were starting to make him angry. His scrubbing became more aggressive as he took his emotions out on the wood of the deck. He thought about the little boy in his dream again, about the pale-faced young man sitting on the throne. 

“Agh!” he yelped, dropping the scrub and bringing his hand to his face. He stared down at his palm, eyes wide as the blood. The first of his blisters had burst.

—

She tossed the last of the small bullets into the sack where the rest of the ammunition was stored, and then Xiaohe stood to stretch her back. After that morning’s commotion, she had been given the punishment of going into the gunpowder closet and sorting the ammunition. It was a tedious job, but she smirked a little at the state of their ammunition supply. There weren’t many cannon balls left for their cannons, and although they were well-stocked with pistols, most did not have bullets to match. Then, there were the swords. The straight swords outnumbered the broadswords, and man had to be sharpened. She spent the remainder of her time running the blades against a sharpener.

After finishing, Xiaohe chose an hour before the next mealtime, when she knew that the majority of the crew would be above deck to head down below to see about Yixing. It was nearing the evening, and the prince had disappeared after he finished swabbing the deck. He hadn’t been seen for a while. It would be a push to say that she was worried about him, but she was getting a little anxious. She pulled open the trapdoor that led below deck and her footsteps echoed through the empty chamber. 

“Yixing?” she called out tentatively. Despite the last of the orange sunlight that flooded the deck aloft, the space below was as dark as night. Illuminated only by the slivers of light the came through the cracks in the deck. She narrowed her eyes, trying to get them to adjust more quickly to the darkness as she searched for the prince.

“Back here,” said a voice, and Xiaohe followed it astern. She found Yixing leaning against the m