Drinking Alone Under The Moon.

It is said tears washed away the hurts,
Debris collected in aching hearts.
But have you seen the muddy water
Flooding the Yellow River, the Yellow Sea?

- Zhang XiCheng

She had wanted for a long time to cry but the tears just would not come. The deeper she was cut, the greater the turbulence, the more she shored up the dam. Even in the depth of the nights, under the safety of the blanket or the kindly gazes of the stars alone in the courtyard, she could not bring herself to cry. She swallowed them in and they rested in her heart. They came out in the sad corners of her sweet smiles and the mellowed curves of her melodic voice.


One starry night she found her father drunk in the round table of the wing courtyard spouting Li Bai’s “Drinking Alone Under The Moon” –

I raised my cup to invite the moon
To join my shadow making us three
But the moon does not know how to drink
And my shadow just imitates me.

He let out a deep sigh before swiping down another drink. Seeing her, he said “EnXue, it is no fun drinking alone.” And as if answering his own comment, he added “But some drinks, you can only drink alone.” After helping him to his bed and watching him snoring in drunken stupor she whispered “It is also no fun crying alone, but who is there to understand your tears?”


But now, after so many years; she found her tears. Because of a little sympathy from a stranger who seemed to feel her depth when others around her were blind to it. And once started, her heart dislodged and pushed out the accumulated poison through her tears. She made no attempts to hold them back and they rushed out her beautiful eyes. All thoughts of poise and dignity were swept away by the violent sobs that racked her body. She was horrified at the sounds she was making and she drowned them with even more painful cries.


The fisherman was shell shocked at the transformation of the ice princess into this vulnerable young woman crying her heart out. What has happened to bring about this change? He had done nothing. What should he do? He could not hold her like he held MingYu to comfort her, could he? What brought about these tears? Why is her hurt so great? Is she crying for the boy who does not love her? Why do women outside his village cry so easily in front of him? She is even more beautiful when she cries. At this moment of time, he did not lose his appreciation of her now fragile beauty. What should he do? A hundred thoughts raced through his mind but he stood rooted like an idiot overcame with concern but clueless on what to do.


He had to do something so he took a step forward and placed a hesitant hand over one of her shoulder. She responded by stepping forward and literally grasped him, her arms tightly grabbing and enfolding his back. He was stunned, his body stiffened as hers crushed into his and he did not know how to push her away. He felt her breast pressed against his chest and to his horror he felt his body immediately responding. “This is not right” he managed to say and lifted his arm to gently pushed her away by the shoulders. But she cringed even tighter to him and the pressure took his breath away. He did not want to be violent but he had to separate her. At the same time, he was having difficulty controlling his passion, desire, lust. Why did she elicit such strong response from him? What if MingYu saw him like this?


He felt the warmth of her body and his own temperature rising. He fought his desire to hold back, the temptation to lift that chin and kissed that tiny mouth. He was disgusted with himself. He is not a person to take advantage of a vulnerable lady. Confusion assailed him. What he felt for MingYu is a gentle longing but this passion burned and scorched. What is happening to him? How can he feel this way if he loved MingYu? How can he feel such passion for this woman he just met? If this is lust, how can he has so little control over himself? This is not him, he denied but his body would not lie.


MingYu looked at the struggling WenCai and recalled how she used to protect him from the bullies. The other boys feared her because she would not hesitate to march to the principal’s office to complain or even to see their parents. She was one of the few who could appreciate his tenderness and sensitivities and how it sets him apart from the other boys who cared only for frogs and kites. She could play adult make believe games with him and discussed the characters found in books. They could take long walks and enjoy nature. A pleasure man only learned to enjoy when they are almost too old and weak to walk, she noted wryly. He was different. He cried at the death of a kitten and laughed at the flights of the swallows. And no matter how he was pressured by the other boys, would not tie a string on the body of the dragonfly to fly them like a kite. When the other boys had left the field, MingYu would help him gathered the broken dragonfly in their death throbs to give them a decent burial.


So what happened to those feelings now? As the memories came flooding back, her own tenderness swept in and seeped through the armor she built around her heart to protect it from the piercing arrows of hurt. In those unguarded moments, the barriers crumpled and her heart began beating again. She remembered the tears they shared as they bent over the puppy with the broken leg. And she looked at WenCai, just as broken. Her heart ached as it did before. She brushed her hands over his head and he leaned forward to rest it on her shoulder. She held his head as she had done countless times in the past and again felt the pain she held at bay. With its return, she learned she has neither destroyed nor expelled the love as she thought. She still loved him as a mother loved her child, as an older sister lover her brother and as a woman who stood by her man.


“You must be brave,” she said. “It is destined that we cannot be together. You know there is no solution. We cannot be selfish. You cannot disgrace the honor of your family. Be brave.”


“I know,” WenCai said. “I’m not as weak as you thought. I know what I have to do. All I ever hope for, was for you to forgive me. And to know you’ll be okay. We have to be apart but we do not have to stop loving…” he choked on those words.


“No. We do not have to.” MingYu affirmed.


And they held each other for one last time. MingYu has not forgotten about the Fisherman. She knew it will not be easy for him to witness this but hoped he will understand. Still, she has a lot of explaining to do. But there is something troubling her more. Things had becomes much more complicated. If she still loved WenCai, what were her feelings for the fisherman? She felt sorry to have dragged him into all this. She turned her head to look at him.


What she saw gave her a jolt and a stab in the heart. She saw the fisherman and EnXue in deep embrace. How could this be? She had always been aware of Snow’s affection and her envy of their relationship. Now she was jealous seeing EnXue holding onto the fisherman. She noted that the fisherman was not holding back and was appeased somewhat. She was besieged by fierce and rampaging emotions. Who does she love – the gentle WenCai or the kind fisherman? Who does she love more? Can she love two persons at the same time? Will she lose both? Why did he let her hold him? Doesn’t he know that will upset her?


She looked across and their eyes met with over the water. She suddenly realized with embarrassment that how could she blame the fisherman when she was also holding someone else.

To be continued...

It Was No Sacrifice.

And it's no sacrifice
Just a simple word
It's two hearts living
In two separate worlds
But it's no sacrifice
No sacrifice
It's no sacrifice at all

- Elton John

Though her face was demure and expressionless, the fisherman got the unpleasant feeling that she was also amusing herself throwing him off his feet. There is a streak of cruelty in her nature but he did not feel that she is overall a cruel person. In trying to fathom her, he knitted his brow searching for an answer he knew he would not find in the porcelain face. She remained cool under his gaze and stared back.

MingYu looked at her boyfriend stammering, desperately trying to explain how sad he was, how he had not intended to hurt her, how he had no choice (without explaining why), but did not offer any way out of the mud. Words she had been expecting to hear, there was nothing new. She had heard them all before. As his desperation droned on, a new sorrow settled on her. Not for herself, she had been through that and had emerged from the mist. But this boy, this boy he once loved was still lost in the fog. She wanted to explain that some changes were irreversible. That she was no longer the same person who left town in tears. She could not return to who she was even if she wanted to.

She wanted to stop him. But thought it kinder to let him speak all he wanted. Let him spilled out his guts. So that he will not regret that he did not have a chance to say what he needed to say. But at the same time, she knew that is a lie. For when he is alone again, the words will play in his heads and he will find there are many more things he ought to have said. As if they will make any difference. She wanted to cut through this with “Yes, I know you’re sincere. Yes, I know you’ve no choice. Yes, I know it is not your fault. But is there anything we can we do to solve it?” And somehow, when he had exhausted himself, she managed to put something like that through. That brought about an immediate, confused, embarrassed silence.

Under the weeping willow, the fisherman gazed at that pair of crystal eyes that challenged him to react. Though he could not read anything that the owner did not want him to, he felt sorry for her. He did not know why. The lady with the velvet voice saw the fisherman’s eyes softened and waited curiously to see what he will do next. But when she heard the whisper “I’m sorry”, she turned immediately to face the lake. She felt the weight in her heart and the tide rising to her eyes. Her feelings raced from indignation that an uncouth fisherman should break her composure to anger with herself for losing it. From surprise at his reaction to surprise of her vulnerability. Then they settled on the balm that maybe, finally; there was someone whom she could tell her secrets. That there was someone she wanted to tell her secret to. She knew he had turned away to look the other way pretending to watch the leaves catching the breeze.

“Now I understand” she said without explaining what it was she understood. Then silence. The fisherman waited. He had heard such silence before. The moments before a gigantic storm break; when the very air and all sound seem to have freeze. Every sense heightened for that moment yet every sense dulled in the anticipation. In the rising tension, every movement, every sound faded into the background as all consciousness was diverted to focus on the breaking of the storm.

“I’ve the best father a child could hope for,” Her voice sang with a quiver, at a pitch threatening to break. “A father who tries to anticipate your every need and fulfill them without your asking it. A father who guides you yet knows when to step back and let you grow on your own. A father who loves you more than his own life. I should be the happiest child on earth.”

“My father was also a man to respect. A kind, caring person who loves his friends as much as he loves his family. He is always ready to lend a helping hand and help those less fortunate than him. His generosity and high moral character means that we had hardly enough to eat but that is not important for we were happy. He has a wife who adores him and a beautiful child he adores. And the respects and admirations of his workers. Despite his uncompromising attitude towards management, they tolerated him because his unit was the most productive due to his capable supervision and the support his workers gave him wholeheartedly. Not everyone loved him though. His immediate supervisor, an uncharitable man who felt he did not get enough respect from my father. Things came to a head when he wanted to dismiss a sick man in my father’s unit but my father with the backing of the other workers prevented him from doing so. They covered for the sick man and increased their production in spite of one man down thus saving him. But the supervisor took that as a challenge to his authority and a slap on his face.”

“One day, I was very sick and my family needed money for the doctor. There is a Chinese saying that the poor must not fall sick. With no money kept aside, my father went round begging for help. But the few who had a little to spare wanted to keep it precisely for such a need. Even those he had helped before could not or would not return the favor. They would have gladly marched with my father into danger but they could not give away what little security they had. My father returned that night a broken man. He had been out the whole day but it was not hunger that dragged his feet or hung his head. My mother was beside herself and demanded whether he got the money though she knew he had not. “Have you asked Lao Liu?” My father nodded. “And?” “You can save Lao Chen or you can save your precious child, he said.” “How could you?” my mother wailed and ranted “To sacrifice your child for your friend. What type of father are you?” My father said nothing but sat on the stool with head bowed, the tears dripping to the floor one drop following another. Then he stood up and left the house.”

“When he returned, my mother asked more hopefully “well?” “He wanted me to turn a blind eye to his ‘doing’. He will even give me a cut.” “And you refuse to sacrifice your principle?” my mother asked hysterically. My father lifted his head and stared at my mother coldly with a look she had never seen. “No. After the first one, that was no sacrifice.” Lao Chen was dismissed and his family lost the sole source of income. His friends and workers who would not help him save his child accused him of betrayal. His superiors were delighted for he was now one of them. And my poor father became a person he hated because of me.”

“I was too young to know all these. My father was still the loving father I’ve always known. But my mother sometime started to say things I don’t understand like “child, you must never hurt your father. You do not know how much he sacrificed for you.” My father was an intelligent man and now freed from the shackle of morality, he rose quickly up the rank to become a senior manager in the company. Several years later, the same supervisor was caught in a financial scandal and was sacked. That evening when he came to our house, I was behind the screen in the study room and mischievously decided to eavesdrop on the conversation. My father had grown rich in the intervening years and had rebuilt his reputation performing charities. I saw the supervisor made groveling appeals while my father listened kindly and offered some advices. At the end, he took out a bundle of cash and handed them to the supervisor who thanked him with tears in his eyes. Another kind act of my father to an undeserving man, I thought. When the supervisor left and my father settled down in his rosewood chair, I wanted to observe that benevolent look of satisfaction on his face. But what I saw horrified me. The face of the man sitting opposite me was not that of my father. The features were the same but I have never seen that face with the cruel smile. I covered my eyes with both hands but it was too late. The image was burned into my brain. Later that evening, my father was especially attentive and warm towards me but I shrank back until I remembered what my mother said.”

“No wonder you are so good in hiding your feelings”, the fisherman said.

“Comes with practice” she answered cynically.

“My father started his own business and became even more successful, and powerful. He was widely respected as a benevolent business man pouring money into helping the poor, building roads and sponsoring festive celebrations. “A poor man can do no charity” he said. He tried to help all he hurt especially his former group of workers. And they all forgive him except one. Lao Chen died and his wife said she would rather eat sand than took a single cent from him. But my father has his ways. He made sure the family is cared for without them knowing that it came from him. But I could not help but noticed that those few who opposed him sooner or later met with some form of misfortune. And he would then be especially generous to me. Another new toy, another new dress, another lavish dinner which I accepted gleefully. I’ll never hurt him by letting him know that I knew. This is my sacrifice.” Her voice dropped like a pebble into a bottomless well.

The breeze picked up. They lifted the flaccid arms of willow branches and the edge of her skirt. She stood there, a composed figure staring at the ripples of the water surface. You would never have guessed what she did not want you to know, the fisherman thought. She holds more secrets than the sea. She turned round and he was surprised she did not attempt to hide her tears.

“And you wonder what has all this got to do with WenCai, MingYu and me?” echoing his thoughts.

To be continued...