O N E Once Upon a Dream

Dried specks of golden browns and reds crunched under her shoes as she walked, marking the trail with leafy prints. Slivers of the afternoon sun seeped through the baring branches and casted rays of tender warmth at where her arm extended. The birds chirped happily and flew from tree to tree as their movements gently rustled the branches above. She looked up and watched as the last leaves of autumn fell swiftly to the ground ahead of her, and then back to the birds that flew toward the horizon.

She often envied those birds, for they could come and go whenever they pleased.

Every now and then, Qian would dream of the fragrant waters of her birthplace and hear the faint sounds of seagulls that flocked by the harbour where she used to watch the boats sail. She remembered the boats that hauled large nets of wild fish that flipped and flopped in the bundles. She remembered the orange sun that set beyond the ocean horizon on clear summer nights. She remembered the valleys and mountains that engulfed the bay. But most of all, she remembered innocence and simpler times.  

Yiyun has told her stories of endless riches and the luxury of palace life built on gold but mama would always scold them for carelessly talking about the imperial life. Qian remembered her mother’s sorrowful expression when she sighed and said the imperial life was not as lavish as it seemed. Still, nothing compared to the fresh fields speckled with daisies and grass as green as emerald where they used to play. The girls had been inseparable and Qian always found comfort in Yiyun’s jokes and the long laughs they shared. She wondered where Yiyun was now, and whether she was alive.

Qingdao was now just a distant memory in the rough patchwork of her childhood, and not once has she stopped dreaming of returning. After all, Jinan was not her home.

Qian found a clearing and decided it was a good time to eat the bun she had packed. She laughed with muse as the squirrels in front of her playfully fought over the pieces of bread that she threw.  

“Enjoy that, because I don’t have any more now!” She giggled, and shoved the last bite into .

She stood up, brushed away the bread crumbs off her dress and quietly took a seat on the flat rock behind her. The air was cool and crisp as she breathed in and stretched her arms in happiness. She could hear the echoes of the rushing rapids from the river not far away. The bow and arrows she had brought out were laid by the tree next to her and she stared at them for awhile before picking them up. Reaching into the pocket of her robe, she pulled out a small piece of rough cow hide. The scent of leather and friction traveled up her nose as she rubbed the hide on the bow with swift pressure. As she polished, an image pushed itself in front of her.

“You’re going to rub off all the carvings if you keep doing that, Qian-ie.” He said teasingly.

Qian lifted up her head to look at the man who sat across from her and flashed him a toothy grin. He had a cup of freshly brewed tea in his hands and a book about herbs and medicine in the other. “I just want it nice and shiny.” She responded with coy.

The man laughed, set down his cup of tea, and walked towards the young girl before caressing her soft cheeks. He admired his daughter’s concentration as she continued to polish the bow with care and effort, her lips pursed in focus.

“That’s my girl. Happy seventh birthday, my sweet child.” He cooed. “Be careful of the sakura, it’s your mama’s favourite.”

Qian held up the bow towards the light and smiled gently, admiring her polishing as the instrument gleamed under the sun. She reached up to allow her fingers to brush pass the sakura etched on the bow’s riser. She felt every dip and every cut of the carving. It had been eight long years.

“Baba, you’re still here with me, right?” She called to the void.

A brisk wind blew by in response as she huddled into the warmth of her cloak before a family of ducks in the near distance caught her eye. Her smile curved mischievously as she bent over and reached for the bows lying to the side of the rock. She carefully rose to her feet and crept towards the ducks with stealth.  They were clustered at the edge of the river and waddling amongst the grass.  Qian remembered watching her father do this as she picked up a small pebble and chucked it towards them. They quacked away in fear and fluttered their wings, some fled to the river while some took flight. Eyeing her target, Qian brought her arrow to the string, pointed it toward the sky, and tugged at the nock point.

With ease, she took down the pair of mallards as she watched them fall to the other side of the river. Carefully, Qian jumped off jagged pieces of rock sticking out of the river’s surface and crossed the channel. She cut through tall grass that stemmed from the riverbank and reached the spot at where the ducks fell.   

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, and picked them up by the necks, satisfied with today’s catch.

When Qian was a child, she would secretly follow her father into the woods and watched closely as he hunted for animals and scavenged for herbs. It was almost like watching a play with her father as the hero of the story. His strides were always tough and defined as he walked with a sense of pride. His agility and accuracy were defined in the powerful strikes of his sword and arrow; he never missed a target. The first time she followed him out to the woods, she watched as he twisted and flew through the air in swift kung fu movements. Qian had seen street performances of magnificent acrobatics but no moves could ever compare to the marvel she saw in her father.

“You’re not old enough, my dear.” She remembered him saying.

Not far from the Qingdao harbour where they lived, there was a dense forest that housed many animals and creatures of different forms. She remembered her father telling her to never wander too deep as there were beasts that could not be tamed and poisonous plants that could kill. Qian used to think those words were only said to protect her tiny frail self until she misbehaved one time and landed into trouble.

“Baba!” Qian screamed. “Baba! Help me!”

Qian had wandered away from her father’s trail while following a butterfly and accidentally disturbed a family of wild boars. Their mouths salivated with hunger as they roared in anger, exposing their jagged teeth and scary fangs. The biggest one charged at her but Qian could not move. Before it could push it's greasy body onto her, it fell over after being shot with an arrow dipped in an herbal mixture. The smaller boars fled away in terror as her father approached.

“What have I told you about never following me into the woods, Qian?!” Her father yelled in frustration. “It is very dangerous here!”

Seeing his daughter’s pretty eyes well with tears, the man knelt down and her back in attempt to calm her.

“Come on, now.” He said. “Let’s dry those tears of yours or you won’t be able to see how beautiful this forest is!”

With that, Qian gleamed at her father’s words as she happily climbed onto his shoulders.
 

By now, the sun was hovering closer to the horizon as dusk slowly crept over. Even though the forest was now dipped in a vignette hue, Qian could still see the magnificent landscape of where the sky met the tallest trees.

“Farewell, baba.” She sighed and began her way back down the mountain.

. . .

Qian watched as her mother pushed rice off her plate and pick at the plate of fish in front of her.  

“Are you not feeling well again, mama?” Qian asked.

Her mother looked up from her meal and smiled at her worried daughter. “No, I’m fine today, Qian-ah.”

“If it’s money that you’re worried about… don’t worry, mama! I will hunt everyday so you can sell more roasted duck!” Qian said proudly.  “I’ve been practicing a lot these days! You should see my archery!”

Her mother laughed. “I know, my dear. You flopped two ducks and a rabbit onto the counter today! But I'm worried, dear. It's dangerous for a young woman like you to wander the woods like this." 

There was an unspoken sadness that grew in her heart as the night continued and the mother daughter pair ate the rest of their meal in silence.  Qian knew something bothered her mother and it irked her because she was bad at reading expressions. Her mother was and still a beautiful woman but the stressful years have taken a toll on her. Wrinkles creased through her once porcelain skin and her cheeks that once blushed in scarlet were now tainted with fatigue and sorrow.  A lot has happened during the last eight years but not once did her mother shed tears. Sometimes, Qian often wondered how her mother carried on when she herself has spilled so many.

“Well, there’s a place I remember.” She said. “A heavenly place.”

Qian listened with awe and curled closer to her mother’s side of the bed. “Better than the Qingdao harbour?”

“Sure is. It is guarded by a beautiful gate where a golden phoenix is perched upon with outstretched wings. You could hear it’s powerful cry as you walked through, almost like a cordial beckon.”

“And then?” Qian asked, half asleep.  She has heard this story from her mother many times before but every night, she hears it as though it was spoken to her for the very first time.

“Petals! Lots and lots of petals!” Her mother continued. “You could hear the swallows sing and the waters tinkle. There’s a majestic pavilion where you can sit and enjoy your tea and corridors that snake through a large koi pond. On good days, you can feed the fish and watch them jump out of the water with joy. Many trees are dusted with pink blossoms that decorate the gardens beautifully. Everytime a light wind breezes by, the petals would scatter and dance, almost like a winter wonderland of sakuras. Oh, I wish you could see the sight, love! It’s amazing!”

“Someday, you’ll find your own sakura garden, Qian-ah.” She said and kissed her daughter’s forehead as she drifted off into slumber. 

Qian wasn’t afraid of the dark, but not knowing what hid amongst the unknown truly terrified her. For years, her mother has told the story of a Heaven of Sakuras to coo her daughter to sleep. But sometimes, the dreams weren’t so blissful.
 

“We have to go!” She heard her mother holler, her breath heavy and uneven.

Her legs quivered in fear but Qian stood stubbornly at her spot and watched n horror as a blaze of fire engulfed their house. “Baba is there! Baba is there!” She cried. “I don’t want to leave!”

A crowd of terrified neighbours ran hastily past her, their hurried steps muffling the cries of her wailing mother now on the other side. Qian saw people run out from their houses, many lightly dressed and carrying children on their backs. Some ran without shoes on and some ran in the buck with just a cloak. She could see burns on some of their bodies and deep scrapes where blood trickled out. She could see hobbling seniors pushed to the ground by the younger crowd. She wanted to help them but what could she do? She saw an old woman on the ground not far away from her who desperately clung onto a dead child. Just a few days ago, Qian saw her selling jade pieces at the market.  

“My dear grandson! My dear grandson!” She wept. "God have mercy!"

Qian looked around as Qingdao burned in flames. She peered towards the harbour as ships sunk in clouds of black smoke and seaman jumped to the peril of the ocean. Gunshots and loud cries of terror blared at her eardrums as a squadron of soldiers formed a line in front of her.

“Fire!” A general shouted.

She clutched onto her bow and arrows and shook violently in fear as the gunshots blared louder. Some generals ushered more people to flee toward the mountains.

"Go! Go! Go!" They told them not to turn back.

Finally, her mother swept her off her feet and ran toward the mountains. With outstretched arms, Qian flailed in her mother’s embrace as she desperately tried to call out to him.

“Baba! Baba!” 
 

02.13.14
If you haven't figured it out, yes, Yiyun is f(Amber). Solo debut today with Shake That Brass! 
More characters will be revealed in the next and coming chapters; Chapter 2 will be uploaded in a few days.
Thank you for all the support. ^^

(♥ xoxo) K.V.