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...