The Lake of Tears of Weeping Willows.

Spring Reflections by JancyLi



The willow's thousand and one leave,
Shimmer and ripple, trembling in sorrow.
She is stripped bare, full of naked unease,
Drunken and swaying outside my window.

J. W. - The Woodlands School

They walked in silence. He tried hard to find something to say but could not find the words to break it. She looked ahead, afraid to look towards his direction. Afraid her face will reveal too much and afraid it will be misread. And with each passing moment, silence seized a stronger hold. Neither the cool morning breeze nor the birds’ chirpy songs could lift their gloom. Like soldiers marching to a certain doom, they dragged their heavy feet forward.

They threaded through the village and they walked through the town. It was a Sunday and there were not that many people around. Those that were, were so caught up in their daily survival quest that they did not pay these early birds any attention. The road led to a winding path at the edge the other side of town. It offered an opportunity for MingYu to cut through the veil of silence.

This piece of land once belonged to a rich man who built a beautiful villa at the edge of a small lake. He loved the weeping willows and had them planted evenly spaced along the bank of the lake and used to joke, “The water of the lake is filled by the tears of the trees I planted”. What he said is true for on a windy day, you can see the trees weeping and the tears rippling the surface. He is a romantic soul and said “I planted them for lovers”. And lovers flocked here, a pair under each tree. He was pleased. But he had tempted the jealous Gods to strike back for intruding into the domain where they reigned. His wife drowned in the lake. And every morning in the balcony, he saw the trees weeping for him reminding him of his sorrow. Now the tears were for real. Afraid he will drown in this lake of tears, he gave this piece of land and the villa to the state authorities as a park with a condition to leave this place without any development in perpetuity. Then he disappeared and no one ever heard of him again. The lake is now called “Tears of Weeping Willows” and it is even more popular with lovers for lovers love a tragic tale.

We walked through the front gate to reach the garden at the back. Though in a state of disrepair, he could see how grand it was in its heyday. Now, the ghost of the rich man’s wife wandered through the lonely corridors searching for her departed lover. The silent mansion echoed with the sounds of helpless sighs and despairing moans. He shivered at the chill. Little Rain stopped at the moon gate leading into the garden. He stopped behind her. Would she turned and leaved this place without meeting him? Or was she bracing herself for the encounter? He knew there would be no resolution, no closing of the chapter if she was to flee now. Yet that is what he hoped for, for he was now afraid that he would lose her. They would meet. They would reconcile. They would say heartfelt sorry to him. And he would return to the sea, alone.

She turned and saw the look on his face. But she did not say anything to assuage him. He could see that she was trembling. She waited for him to say something. But he had no words for her either. “Come, let me introduce you.” And with that she walked through the ominous moon gate.

They first came across a lotus pond, the broad leaves proudly opening out high above the water surface. It has been a long time since he had eaten lotus seeds. He hurried up to walk besides her, as close as he could without touching. They walked under the covered corridors till they came out into the open again. Huge white clouds billowed above and swallows were sweeping across the sky. They walked beyond the stone steps, out another moon gate into an earthen path that was lined with trembling willows and resonate with a thousand insect calls. There ahead was a small stone bridge that led to a pavilion built into the lake. Inside the pavilion was a round marble table and four round stone stools. He could see a figure standing in the center of the arched bridge pacing about.

She looked down as she walked – through familiar ground. It was not apparent she saw the figure at the bridge but he knew she did. Every tree they passed temporarily blocked the sight of the bridge but also brought her closer to him. The closest he had to this feeling was when he was racing against the wind to reach the shore before the storm hit. Except now he was racing into the storm. Her steps picked up the paces. Was it anxiousness to meet him? If he had said, “Please don’t go”, would that have stopped her? But his thoughts had no time to wander further for she was standing in front of the figure now and him a couple of steps behind.

He was a handsome young man, tall with delicate fair skin like a woman, His thick but soft hair parted in the middle just above eyes that dreamed too much. He carried himself with the poise of the confident mellowed by the gentleness of a scholar. The fisherman hated him already. He called “MingYu” with a voice strangled with emotions and stepped forward to hold both her hands before he could react. She pulled them away abruptly and turned quickly to look at the fisherman with concern. He will never forget that look. He knew then even if she did not love him yet, she cared enough to be deeply concerned about his feelings and hurting him. He will always cherish that look. And whenever he wanted to remember her, it is that look of genuine concern that he will recall.

She turned back and said to the boyfriend in a steady and slightly harsh tone “This is my husband.”

The boyfriend gave such a miserable expression that he felt like drowning him and put him out of his misery. Instead, without addressing him; he spoke to MingYu “I’ll wait for you.”

MingYu gave him a look of gratitude and added “Don’t wander far.”

He walked back to the end of the stone bridge giving them space and privacy. When he looked back, he saw deep in hushed conversation. He noted that there was no more attempt to try to hold her hands again. They stood apart engaging in agitated conversation. Then he decided that it was awkward for him to be standing there and that his still nearby presence may make it uncomfortable for them. So he walked down the path and under a weeping willow which branches did not obscure his view of the bridge. He stood there and looked across the water at the two figures facing each other on the bridge. For anyone chancing on them, they would think that this was a couple of lovers having a romantic conversation on the stone bridge. And indeed in ways they were.

He was so engrossed in the scene and lost in his own thoughts that he did not sense her presence until he was shocked by a mellifluous voice asking “Don’t they make a lovely couple?’’

It was spoken by a slender lady with a round face and a tiny mouth given life by thin but sensuous red lips. Two pencil thin lines formed a gentle arch over small slanted captivating eyes that seemed to observe without looking. And a small round nose provided contrast without taking center stage. By itself, none of the features were singularly outstanding but put together with her lily white skin; what he saw was a classical Chinese beauty. Put her in a cheongsam and she would look like an old time Chinese painted model. But this girl was dressed in conservative Western clothing. It was a face masked in neutrality; he could not read any emotion in it.

“Yes, they do” he replied without thinking wondering who she was.

“They were made for each other, you know.” Did he detect an edge in the velvety voice? “Everyone said so. The rest of us could only watch with envy. How is it they could have found each other so early in life? To be so completely happy. Their happiness made us all unhappy. For it showed how inadequate our lives were. It set us on our own fruitless quests to seek our perfect companion. And we held them up as example of who our partner and how our relationship should be. But they were an anomaly. It made our quests impossible. They broke a lot of hearts and were totally ignorant about it.” This time, there was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice. “So we were secretly happy at their misfortune.” And she smiled. But it was not a smile that took pleasure in another’s misfortune. It was a beautiful sad smile that mock at life’s irony. That smile told the fisherman that her bitterness was directed at fate and not at the couple.

“And we suffer from the guilt for feeling so. For they have meant us no harm. All they did was to love each other. And they are genuinely nice people. How can we hate people like that? But we do.” The fisherman suddenly felt very sorry for her. She did not hate them; life would be simpler fro her if she could. “At the same time, many of us would love one of them if they will love back.” She continued as if speaking her own thoughts.

“And would you love him?” The fisherman asked.


He was shocked by her reply “I love him even though he does not love back. I am his fiancée.”

To be continued...