A Bad Omen
Jingyuan~
“What’s this. It looks like blood.”
A deep ruby color stands out against a pure white. The image is stark, with a crimson mar resembling a stroke made with a brush, its ink heavy only on the ends.
A single, deep red dot, saturated in color, shows the stroke’s beginning; its pigment fades and weakens as it spreads across the white material above her eyes, paling from its darkest point. As she unconsciously touches the fabric, another stain that resembles the first appears. The source of the color becomes apparent and leaves a faint smell of iron in the air.
“My love, your finger is bleeding.”
“I thought I felt something.” She replies, “I must have pricked it on a thorn handling the roses a moment ago.”
The chamber is filled with their sweet scent. Fragrant rose bouquets, soft baby pink and delicate in their beauty, sit beside gifts intended for Min Qian Ju’s grave.
“It’s funny. For such a refined and noble woman, jiejie was humble and carefree, just like these wild roses,” Yueli says wistfully, her voice nostalgic.
When speaking of her dear friend, Yueli subtly wipes her eyes, as if to clear away tears hidden behind and soaked up by her blindfold, but her finger leaves another bloody smudge on the white material. The sight of the blood, like a bad omen, sends a strange chill down my spine, filling me with unease. Stop being superstitious, Mo Yuan. It’s only one afternoon. What could happen when she’s with Jinghua and Qing Yuan?
“You need to get ready to go so you’ll be back before sundown. I don’t want you out after dark. Where does Little Min keep your clean blindfolds? I’ll change it for you.” I say.
When she gives me a dismissive wave of her hand nonchalantly and sheepishly, yet without a hint of shame, she confesses she doesn’t know where Little Min keeps most of her belongings. This makes me chuckle, for she has never been a tidy, organized person in any of her lives.
I tenderly stroke her flushed cheek, rosy like an apple, with the back of my hand, feeling the warmth of her supple, glowing skin beneath my touch. As I do so, I can’t help but notice the softness and fullness of her generous mouth, tempting and irresistible, as if they were begging to be kissed. She hasn’t been receptive much of late, or initiated any physical contact, but today, she returns my kisses and tickles my chin under my beard.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen her like this.
Cheered and energetic. Yueli is full of pep and enthusiasm. She ate more than usual this morning, and I heard her humming while Little Min dressed her for the day. Had I known a little time away from the palace would have such a positive effect on her mood, I would have allowed it weeks ago.
“I want to build a new residence for you. It will be easier for you to move around. I have a design in mind – a palace with a nearby area for the babies to stay close to you.”
She responds by saying that the project would be expensive and unnecessary. She worries our subjects might view it negatively, believing that her current living quarters are more than sufficient.
“The emperor might reconsider how such an extravagance will be perceived by others. They will say you’re wasteful with the country’s money. Plus, I’m happy with things the way they are.” She declares, and the conversation on the subject comes to an end.
I will always give in to her. Always.
Despite her blindness, her spatial awareness remains intact. I carefully guide her towards her chair, holding her hand for support. She inches forward, releasing my hand and reaching out until her fingertips graze and land on the chair’s back while her toes tap into its back right leg. With no help from me, she adjusts herself and carefully takes a seat. Then she exhales, but her breathing is limited by the pressure of the babies inside her.
She’s enormous. Her watermelon-like pregnant belly, round and bulging under her flowing white summer dress, is where she rests her interlaced fingers. As we settle into our chairs, a comfortable silence descends upon us.
It is in this quiet that we find ourselves unexpectedly delving into a topic that we haven’t discussed in years, perhaps one that is brought forth to fill the stillness that hangs in the air.
Our immortal lives become the theme of our impromptu conversation.
“I’ve been reflecting,” Yueli states. “I don’t know why, but lately I’ve been thinking about the God of War Mo Yuan and his little seventeenth disciple.”
“I was wrong.” Her posture relaxes. Leaning back, loosening her fingers, then interweaving them again, Yueli softly explained that more than simple foolishness or stupidity had made the disciple wait for her shifu.
“It was love. She loved her shifu deeply.”
Her confession—centuries in the making for me—is momentous.
In her mind, it’s like a whimsical legend, a tall tale of magic and wonder depicting eternal beings. But for me, her words elicit more emotions than I’m ready to face or can handle.
Waves of sentiment surge within me, crashing against the shores of my heart like a thunderous deluge. The unspoken, cumbersome, and ponderous make it hard to meet her eyes. Even though she can’t see, I turn the other way, as if to hide my inner turmoil and teary gaze.
“If it was love, why did she stop loving him?” I ask.
Her expression relaxed, yet she remains stoic, devoid of any visible emotion; however, a serene calmness emanates from her. Her candid response carries a sense of foresight I never considered or simply ignored. Intentionally.
“She didn’t stop loving him, but it was time,” she says. “The girl matured into a woman. It would be fitting and natural for her to change how and who she loves.”
“Time changes everything.”
Yueli speculates that the God of War found it hard to realize that his seventeenth disciple had become a stranger when he was away, which was true. I had felt frustrated and unsure of what kind of man she was looking for. She believes he might have wanted their relationship as shifu and disciple to turn into something more intimate, like a peach blossom dream, which I did.
I envisioned a future where, with Ye Hua gone, we’d leave the past behind and develop a natural romance, leading to marriage. However, she tells me it wouldn’t have been possible because…
“Time and change are intrinsically linked, like an endless dance of transformation.” She continues. “The passage of time brings forth a kaleidoscope of moments in flux. Mo Yuan and his beloved seventeen, their relationship spanning ninety thousand years, were not immune to this dance.”
The mortal version of herself tells me it was unfortunate that the God of War was not the deity who controls time. He could have frozen time, leaving his beloved untouched and preserved until his return, but she thinks that would have been an unwise idea. She finds it questionable and imprudent for anyone, especially a highly enlightened deity, to have assumed he was the center of her universe.
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Yueli~
I’ve adjusted to moving around my palace since going blind. Little Min has been my most trusted companion. Repetition has become my best teacher, but being outside in the open is a new experience for me.
“A-li, there are three steps beneath you. Take my hands and follow my lead. Don’t rush. Take the steps slowly and easily,” Jinghua says, sounding tense and worried. He treats me like everyone else does, delicate and fragile, as if I’m as weak as an eggshell with a hairline fracture and the world around me is massive boulders just waiting for me to stumble and crack open.
Now Little Min, always attentive, chimes in sounding like my older sister, “Fourth prince, make sure the empress doesn’t bump her head before she takes the first step. Please be careful with the empress.”
I’m learning not to make sudden or jarring movements. Carefully, hands out, I move slowly, searching for balance and orientation. My disability is something I’m slowly getting accustomed to, but it seems to make others more uneasy than me. It feels like pity when people speak to me rather than with me, cautiously and protectively, like I’m helpless, but that’s just my pride.
I need to become accustomed to understanding that their words and guidance are not mere instructions; they are the lifelines, purely for my benefit, meant to keep me safe.
Taking their instructions into consideration and relying on my senses and memory. I’ve stepped in and out of sedans hundreds of times. I bend my knees and duck my head, knowing how low to go, and take a small step forward. I release the exhale I’ve been holding for what feels like a lifetime.
My God! I didn’t know air could smell this sweet.
It’s not as if I’ve been locked in a dark cellar; rather, I’ve been “protected” within the familiarity of my palace walls, which is a far cry from a dungeon infested with rats. It is luxurious and lacking nothing but now. As I step into the outside world, the feeling of the clean air refreshing and dancing on my skin overwhelms me. Nature’s sounds and scents—earth and open sky—are so beautiful, I’m moved to tears.
“Place your foot here.” Jinghua taps on the step; his knuckle knocking echoes through the wood, signaling where I should go. Holding his hands, I carefully put my right foot down on the spot where I heard him tap, trusting Jinghua’s lead. The wooden plank creaks under my pregnant weight. We repeat this same maneuver twice until my feet touch solid ground, before he releases my hand.
It’s spring. I imagine everything must be blooming and flourishing. Despite the situation, I plant my hands on my hips and circle around with my head lifted, as one would, visually taking in my surroundings. Although I may not be able to see, I can still recreate visual scenes in my mind by drawing on my memories and experiences.
As my senses savor this moment of freedom, which is as sweet as perfectly aged plum wine, there is bickering behind me. “Fourth prince is being unreasonable. I’m sure Little Min has more experience in this matter than you. Since princes have servants to do the heavy lifting and never haul things around,” I hear Little Min complain.
He replies, “This issue has nothing to do with my royal status or social rank. I’m speaking from my experiences as a man.”
Jinghua and Little Min are still arguing about how to move the things I brought for jiejie and her baby. Little Min says they should make multiple trips, but Jinghua disagrees.
He believes a real man, regardless of the size of the load, carries everything at once, even if it means he can’t see ahead of him and drops things. Then, when this man stops to pick them up, he will surely drop more items. The rationale behind the woman’s suggestion of multiple trips will only become clear to a real man then.
His delivery is flat, like his dry humor. Hilarious. Jinghua’s slightly pompous tone rings without a hint of jest, and that’s what makes it funny. Little Min, despite hating him for years, snickers at him.
I laugh with her, entertained, but then stop as the awkward atmosphere overwhelms me.
Jinghua already told Qing Yuan about my recent loss of sight. But actually seeing me in my current state is a whole different experience for him. He must be in shock. He hasn’t greeted me or spoken yet. I can smell him nearby. It’s a faint but unmistakable scent of mugwort, realgar, pomelo peels, wormwood, and other fragrant herbs.
The fragrance emanates from Qing Yuan’s xiang bao, his fragrance pouch, and the scent instantly evokes memories of the previous year’s Dragon Boat Festival. Jiejie and I spent the afternoon gossiping and sewing pouches. Jiejie made one for Qing Yuan, and I made one for Haoyu.
That was only a year ago, but it feels like a lifetime ago. I miss her, and there is a part of me, a weak and cowardly part of me, who finds an unexpected relief in the blindfold of darkness. It was impossible to hide my feelings; my eyes, too expressive and honest, gave me away. They consistently thwarted my efforts to keep my thoughts, secrets, or anything I wanted to hide.
Like now, I might have broken down if I had to look into Qing Yuan’s eyes and see my pain that mirrors his. I’m relieved that he can’t see me cry because he has already cried enough. I clear my throat and put my hands on my swollen stomach, questioning if it was a good idea for me to come along. I’m afraid he’s looking longingly at my protruding stomach with heartache, as it might serve as a reminder of his lost, unborn child, because the tension between Qing Yuan and me is palpable.
I think about what to say to break the tension. But before I can, he teases me, “Aya! What’s happened to you and your sublime figure? Empress is now shaped like a human seahorse!”
I’m overjoyed that his sense of humor is still the same. I worried he’d changed and wouldn’t be the terrible joke-telling, jovial person I adore. Even though he has faced hardships, he can still joke and laugh, which I find admirable. Qing Yuan’s resilience to overcome his pain is impressive.
“WOW!” His voice becomes clearer as he comes closer to me. He pats my stomach in a way that makes me think he’s thinking about jiejie and his unborn child again. I’m overcome with a sudden sadness until he makes loud whistling noises and exclaims, “I’ve never seen a woman with a bigger belly than you! Are you sure there aren’t three, four, or six babies in there? Should you be out like this? Empress looks ready to pop. I bet you can’t see your feet anymore.”
With a touch of playful sarcasm, I reply quickly and snappily, “Qing Yuan, the thing with being blind is I can’t see anything, let alone my feet.”
“Pfffff. Seriously, though, what happened to you, little princess? Or maybe I should call you big princess?” he teases, just like when we were in Qingshui City, like siblings.
I scoff, amused. I can’t remember the last time someone called me that title, ‘Little Princess’. “Stop teasing me, jackass. Qian Yuan, you’re as absurd and brazen as ever.”
I chuckle heartily at him, genuinely amused, clutching my heavy stomach, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in ages.
“It’s true. I’m still absurd and brazen, so let’s play our old game and sneak away. It’s hilarious! Jinghua gets absolutely annoyed when we do that, and we can take a shortcut to Ju’er’s resting place. She and I picnicked here, and she fell in love with the place. She asked if I would bury her here if she died before me. Who would have guessed she would go so soon?”
“Ju’er is going to be so pleased to see you, but maybe not so happy to see Jinghua. It’s no secret how she felt about him.”
Qing Yuan gently intertwines his arm with mine. I instinctively reach out, placing my hand on his forearm for a greater sense of stability. As we stroll along the trail, the ground must be an even path made of tiny pebbles. The subtle crunching sound beneath our feet reaches my ears. Our leisurely pace allows us to savor this moment between good friends, our arms remaining linked.
Overhead, the leaves rustle in a symphony of whispers, accompanied by the melodic chirping of birds, creating a harmonious soundtrack for our walk. A gentle breeze dances around us, carrying with it a distinct fragrance of trees. I smell pine trees and juniper. Qing Yuan’s steps are accompanied by descriptions of unseen wonders of the world that I can no longer see; his words paint vivid images in my mind, allowing me to share in the surrounding beauty.
“Qing Yuan, I can picture everything in my mind. Thank you for taking the time to share with me.” I say, but my voice, once echoing, now seems strangely muted. And this uneven terrain makes my footsteps wobbly. My hold on his arm tightens for security when Qing Yuan suddenly asks. “Are you happy, little princess? Is this the life you wanted?”
He asks strange questions and keeps calling me little princess. I feel surprised and can’t respond. But then I realize it’s just my trusted friend, Qing Yuan. He supported me after what happened in Qingshui City. Now it’s my turn to be there for him. He must miss jiejie and needs someone to talk to.
“Is this the life I wanted? I’m uncertain if this was my dream life, but I’m content. Am I happy? I suppose I’m happy.” I reply casually, and he states somberly in a tone that doesn’t suit him. “Contented? That makes me sad to hear you say that because you deserve the best, but I think you have made poor choices, so genuine joy has eluded you.”
I can’t dispute him this. I have made poor choices in my life, but it feels strange, even inappropriate, to have such a conversation with him, and his pace, which keeps getting faster, makes me suddenly nervous. I stopped walking. It takes some force, but I pull away. Our linked arms separate, and I raise my voice, trying not to sound alarmed yet hoping the others will catch up to us. “Where are Jinghua and Little Min? Maybe we should stop here and wait for them?”
Qing Yuan clicks his tongue at me. “Tut, tut, tut, what’s wrong? Jinghua and Little Min are right behind us. He looks exasperated, but Jinghua just waved at us. Little Min must still hate him. They are walking side by side without speaking. That Little Min really holds grudges.”
I take a deep exhale, wondering: What is wrong with me? Stop overthinking things!
Shame burns my face, making it feel feverish. “I’m sorry, Qing Yuan. I haven’t been out much, and being blind, this helpless feeling is making me jumpy. I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“You could never offend me.” He replies.
He now holds my hand instead of my arm with a tight grip. It troubles me, but I assume it’s for my safety. We’re no longer walking slowly. The ground has changed – it’s no longer smooth and pebbly. It’s uneven and bumpy. My toes hit something solid every few steps. I wonder if it’s exposed tree roots or freshly fallen branches. They bend under my weight, unlike dry branches that would snap.
“Qing Yuan, slow down. Let’s wait for Jinghua and Little Min,” I suggest, trying to sound calm. My gut tightens and I cry out, “Ahhhh! OH, NO!” A sudden contraction takes my breath away. I gasp, panting, supporting my stomach with my free hand. “Qing Yuan, we need to go back. I think the babies are coming soon.”
He roughly lets go of my hand. He appears bothered, huffing and puffing, kicking things like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. He throws stones at me. I try to block them when I hear the subtle whistle of the stones cutting through the air. I reach out and wave my hands aimlessly in front of me. I don’t understand what’s happening. But when he speaks, his lack of concern, urgency, and disturbance for the situation makes me feel panicked.
I’m absolutely terrified.
“Well, this isn’t what I had in mind. Damn it, princess, you really know how to ruin a date.” Qing Yuan says disappointedly.
He accuses me of ruining our date, which he’s been planning for most of his life. Following the sound of his mocking and taunting voice, I spin as he circles me like a hyena circling a motherless newborn elk.
“Little princess Yueli promised to remember me. You didn’t, but I didn’t blame you after what you went through. I cried for months when they said you had died, so you could imagine my surprise to see you after so many years.”
“Little princess had grown. You were washing clothes in the river like a peasant, but I recognized you instantly. I knew fate had led me to you, and I was going to be your hero. I had a plan to save you from your miserable existence, but that Wang Guo ruined everything.”
“Even though we had a deal…”