Another story - inspired by a rainy day and a few cheesy Chinese fairytales...
The rain started as the sun began to set. It pattered down on the roof of the little, lonely pavilion. It made endlessly complicated ripples on the surface of the lake it overlooked. It ran in tiny waterfalls off the green tiled roof and splashed noisily onto the ground below. Soon puddles had formed around the stairs that led up to the platform. The refreshing summer shower turned into a downpour dense enough to obscure the dark forest on the opposite banks of the lake. A light breeze rose and carried with it the scent of wet grass and wood. The wind chimes dangling from the eves of the roof rang out their melancholic music. Nobody ever heard the sound of a single rain drop falling, the general mused, but a million of them are enough to drown out the battle cries of an entire army.
The general stood perfectly erect in the centre of the small building with its pointed, green tiled roof, sweeping eves and dark wooden posts. His travelling cloak was pulled closely around him to ward off the rising chill. Even now, when there was nobody around he had not undone his hair or rid himself of the cap that was the symbol of his rank. His horse was tied up a short walk away under the trees. He could hear it snort or whinny occasionally. He had brought nothing except a few rice balls and a bottle of liquor. He was waiting for the dragon.
Dusk was slowly settling in as the rain wore on. The general raised his cup, toasting nobody in particular. He knocked it back and warmth trickled down his throat and spread comfortably through his insides. Idly he observed the drip-, drip-, dripping from one of the eves of the pavilion into a puddle underneath where each new drop produced a new concentric, perfectly circular ripple. It was a symmetry that the Great Sage would have been proud of. After the humidity of the day a fog began to rise from the surface of the lake. Its milky veil turned the trees on the opposite shore into mysterious shades drifting in and out between them. Even the great poets' praise for the West Lake seemed pale in comparison. This hidden lake offered true serenity.
He never noticed the figure until it had emerged – without so much as disturbing the water – out of the centre of the lake. Unheeding of the fragile water's surface the shape that had now settled for that of a powerfully built man strode surely across it as if it were solid stone. It was wearing a grand, richly ornate suit of mail with a finely crafted breast plate that even General Cao Cao would have envied. His robes were of a sky blue and dusk blue, purple and a starry silver. At his side the man carried a decorated broadsword. His silvery beard tumbled like a frothy waterfall over his chest down to his belt. Only as he approached closer did the general take note of the stubby antlers on the top of the man’s head.
As the being that looked like a man strode up to the pavilion the general dropped down on one knee.
"Do I have the distinct honour of addressing the Silver Dragon of the South?", he enquired without looking up.
"People have called me many names over the centuries", the dragon replied. His voice was a deep rumble yet every syllable came out pronounced round and full and beautiful with a touch of nobility. "It has always pleased you mortals to call me what you wish."
"I am but a humble servant and of not much use to one such as you", the general intoned. "Dictate and I shall obey."
The dragon chuckled and it sounded like water lapping against the side of a keg.
"You have come a long way indeed to tell me that you are no use to me", he observed. Startled the general raised his head, forgetting etiquette. The dragon's eyes, clear as polished crystal, studied the general who dared not return the gaze but stared vaguely at the dragon's chest plate. Embossed in it was a bizarre grimace staring back at him. He noticed that none of the dragon's garbs were wet – neither from the water through which he had emerged nor from the rain which was soaking everything else.
"I ...", he began, "I have come this far to seek your immeasurable wisdom, great one. Taoist monks in the temple nearby told me about you. I come to you seeking purity of thought and clarity of mind."
The dragon nodded gravely still holding the general transfixed in his gaze.
"I know of you", the dragon spoke slowly as if reflecting on every word before uttering it, "the winds have whispered it to me. You are General Jin Su Liang from Jiangsu Province. You come from your campaign in the far north where none other than the Son of Heaven himself ordered you to lead his armies against the barbarians called the Xiong Nu. Your endeavours in the field have been rewarded with great success. His Majesty even bestowed on you the title of General Who Pacifies the North. Now you are on your way west from your home where it pleases the Son of Heaven that you shall smite a peasant revolt that is troubling the Empire. You have proven great prowess and cunning in the field while maintaining utmost integrity and loyalty to the throne. Thanks to you China will be safe once more. What for could a man of your stature require any more clarity of thought or purity of mind? What wisdom could I have to offer you that you do not already possess?"
"But you are a dragon, my lord", Jin objected surprised. "I am nothing compared to you. I am but an ant while your might is the sky above me."
"They call you the Tiger of the North", the dragon reminded him gently, "soon they will call you the Dragon of the West."
"I would never dare to even allow myself to be called that so as not to offend your splendour", Jin affirmed.
The dragon lips curled in an amused smile. "You have no say in what people call you – be it by word or by lash. But it is no false modesty that makes me speak thusly – I have no military expertise to offer you."
Jin bowed his head.
"Sad and lonely my days are, General", the dragon resumed after a brief pause", speak with me." He motioned towards the bench that surrounded the circular platform. "Come, rise and let us sit and talk like civilised folk."
Jin obeyed and sat on the wooden bench as the dragon lowered himself onto the bench opposite him. Only now he remembered the drink. He produced the bottle.
"It is cheap and not worthy of a palate as refined as yours but may I offer you my cup to drink?"
The dragon took the proffered cup with a nod, inhaled, then took a sip. Without a word he handed back the cup motioning Jin to drink. Only after Jin had himself lowered the cup the dragon sighed and smiled.
"Now tell me your story, General", he rumbled. "Tell me what really brings you here and what holds your mind and heart of hearts."
“It has been a long journey, my lord”, Jin began quietly, his head bowed, more to himself than anybody in particular. He was still trying to avoid the dragon’s piercing gaze.
“Sometimes”, he continued, “I hardly remember the last time I saw my home town, spoke with my mother or paid my respect to our ancestors.”
The general paused reminiscing. The dragon shifted on the seat looking expectantly.
When the general still hesitated he asked: “And that weighs heavy on you and burdens your conscience?”
The general sighed. He gazed out into the rain. It was almost time to light the little lamp that hung in the centre under the roof.
“It’s been a long time since I have seen my home”, he began again, “I went to war. In the grass lands of the far north I fought the mounted barbarians with sword and spear and bow. I saw wonders that few in my day may behold: The Great Wall that Emperor Qin Shi Huang first commissioned. It stands now, generations after him, in even greater splendour with the imperial banners still flying high on every turret in the morning breeze. I saw the mighty gates of Beijing, the West Lake of Hangzhou and we even made a stop at Mount Tai to pray for good fortune. That is to say the other generals prayed for success and good fortune. But I am ashamed to admit that I prayed to the Immortals only for myself.
In Zhejiang Province we stopped to rest in a small village, me with a troop of soldiers. The villagers were in awe, some seemed afraid. There I saw her: a young woman, probably the daughter of a local farmer carrying a large basket. Suddenly in comparison to her the all the great wonders of China seemed insignificant. She moved among her peers like a dancer. Her colourful dress simple though it was seemed to shine like a rainbow before grey clouds. Her features were delicate as if cast in fine porcelain or wrought out of jade. And her eyes were large and clear and deep. Even the memory of the golden sun rising over Mount Tai seemed to loose its brilliance the moment I laid eyes on her. And as our gazes met she looked back and smiled. But before I could utter a word or greeting she had disappeared around the corner of a house. When I dismounted and ran after her to at least ask her name I saw her walking toward the fields. Just when I was about to call after her she looked back over her shoulder and smiled again. Suddenly I felt foolish – not like a man but like a young boy.
Later that evening she came to our camp carrying a clay bottle. She bowed before me and presented me the bottle. When she spoke she had the delicate accent of the region but nonetheless her Mandarin was flawless.
‘General, to show our respect and loyalty for our lord our village would like to present our lord with this humble gift. We apologise that it is not more but we are poor and can give little else. We wish our lord a hundred years of good health.’
Forgetting etiquette I jumped up and also bowed to her accepting the gift. I could hardly believe that I should be allowed to meet this beautiful creature twice in a day. And as she passed me the bottle for one fleeting moment our fingertips touched before she pulled away bowing her head coyly. I was still mesmerised by her exquisite beauty and yet bold grace. She bowed to take her leave.
‘Young miss’, I called after her not knowing really what to say next. The best I could think of was to point at the bottle and ask: ‘Does your family make this?’
She curtseyed saying: ‘It is hardly worthy of my lord but we do our best.’
What else could I say to her? I continued blindly with what came to my mind.
‘Your village is a pleasant place.’ I meant it. ‘It reminds me much of my home to the north of the River.’
‘Where is my lord’s home’, she asked me then. I marvelled at the way her lips moved and shaped the syllables. It seemed like an artist whose brush gently caresses the paper leaving stroke upon elegant stroke.
It told her it was many days’ ride in Jiangsu Province and she frowned ever so slightly.
‘My lord is far away from his family’, she commented with a hint of sadness in her voice.
‘We go to war’, I told her, ‘to serve the emperor, to fight those who would see our great empire and its thousand years of unity in shambles.’
She nodded. ‘My lord’s duty is a dangerous one. And a lonely one.’
‘You are right’, I agreed, ‘so will you sit with me and join me while I try a cup from your generous present?’
‘Surely my lord is very busy and does not need a simple peasant girl around while he attends to his business. My lord has a long road ahead of him again in the morrow.’
‘Yes’, I conceded, ‘but as you said it is also a dangerous one. I may well not live to see tomorrow’s sunset. Then would you deny me the pleasure of being in your presence for a while longer?’ Feeling emboldened I added: ‘I find it soothing.’
Her smile was full of warmth and sympathy when she spoke again: ‘My lord carries many burdens. Where is my lord’s wife to help bear the weight?’
I shook my head telling her I had no wife. She apologised but I explained to her that my duty to the empire had not yet allowed me to find a suitable woman and get married to her.
Then out of an impulse I asked her name. She replied shyly that people simply called her Fei. Fei like flying. I wrote the character into the air with my finger. Fei. She waited, probably for me to dismiss her.
‘What do you dream of, Fei’, I asked her before the silence could turn awkward.
She cocked her head in surprise. The motion showed of the elegant curve of her neck.
‘The simple dreams of a simple girl, my lord: a kind husband, a fulfilled life, many healthy children and grandchildren.’
I envied her and I told her so. ‘For’, I said, ‘you may dream of such simple things. My duty forces me to bear in mind the unity of the empire and the safety of my men. But really I would much rather share your dreams.’
She came a step closer then and finally squatted opposite my seat looking at me intently.
Thus we continued speaking until the hour had grown late. She asked me many a question about my family and my life as a soldier. I told her of the battles I had fought and saw her flinch at my description of the peril I had been in. I saw her eyes sparkle when I told her about the Great Wall and the grass land of the north. And she told me of her life in her village and the seasons and the simple pleasures of a summer breeze or the autumn sun. She smiled many a warm smile and though she never stopped calling me ‘her lord’ I could feel the distance between us melt away.
When the time for her to leave had come I accompanied her to her house. There, in the light of the moon, she produced out of her hair a simple wooden comb with a flower carved into it.
‘My lord is very kind and has a gentle heart’, she said, ‘will he accept another humble gift from me. When, after year and day, my lord returns and this comb still reminds him of the simple girl Fei and her simple dreams may he look for me here. Until then I will wait and pray for my lord’s safe return.’
And I bowed to her again saying: ‘I will not forget you Fei. I will come back to find you. Until then I will guard this treasure like my precious eye.’
Thus we parted under the starry sky. The next morning she was nowhere to be seen and the villagers did not know of her. Even when I produced the comb she had given me they assured me there was no such girl living among them. So we broke camp and left without seeing her again. Weeks have come and gone since then but the memory is still fresh.”
The general fell silent for a moment. His hands toyed with the simple, small wooden comb with the flower carved into it. The dragon nodded.
“The tale you tell”, he announced, “is a timeless one as ancient as the world itself. Yet it enchants us anew again and again and never really grows old.”
“Sometimes”, the general confessed pensively, “I wonder if meeting her was not merely a pleasant dream; maybe one that I still have not woken up from. Other times I doubt she was real. Maybe she was a Fox trying to seduce me, testing my resolve and purity.”
The dragon nodded knowingly.
“There are such creatures as you describe. Yet would they not have been more ruthless or aggressive in their approach?”
“Do you believe in true love then?” the general asked abruptly.
“True love”, the dragon mused, “you speak of the kind of love that you chance upon like one of the peaches of immortality that will never grow old or bitter or stale? No. In all my life I have never heard of such a thing.”
The general hung his head.
“You must think me such a fool”, he exclaimed.
“You are no more a fool than the poet who praises the clear lake and the green mountains. He does not see the thunderstorms that descend on them every year nor does he see the lake dry up every dozen or so summers. True love is like the Way. No matter how hard you strive for it you may never achieve perfection, yet your endeavours will bear their own rewards.”
“So you are saying that I should give up my idle dream but live in the real world?” the general questioned.
“I am saying”, the dragon intoned, “that a dream that does not test your patience or your perseverance, your courage or your strength of heart; a dream that is not worth fighting for, that is not worth suffering for, that is not worth dying for – is not worth dreaming at all.”
Jin nodded considering this for a while still turning the comb around and around in his hand. The dragon looked on patiently.
Finally, Jin continued: “The monks said you know the future, great one, as you know the past. If I endeavour hard enough will I see her again?”
“Hmm”, the dragon rumbled, “no one, not even Buddha himself, can see the future in such clarity. Both gods and mortals may step in your way to thwart your plans and dash your hopes. It is up to you to make the choices you can and not look back.”
Then rising he declared: “You have driven off my loneliness for a while, general. I thank you. May you go in peace and find your way.”
The general jumped up almost toppling over the bottle of liquor.
“Great one”, he called out, “I still have so many questions.”
The dragon had already walked out onto the lake but turned once more.
“I have no more advice to offer you. You already know all the answers. Farewell.”
With that the dragon turned again and slowly marched out onto the lake and into the mist leaving the general alone in the little pavilion on the shore of the lake. Then as he reached the middle of the lake there was a flash as of distant lightning and for a moment the general believed he saw a great length of body with an antlered head and gleaming crystal eyes that twisted and turned in several coils until it vanished into the water without so much as a ripple.
Slowly the rain subsided and the mist cleared until only a fine layer remained on the lake’s surface. Long gaps tore into the sheet of clouds that hung in the sky and one by one stars began to twinkle.
Long hours General Jin still sat in the pavilion but he drank no more of the liquor in the bottle. Finally, pulling his cloak tightly around him he fell into a fitful sleep.
When the sun raised him the next morning he climbed onto his horse and rode back to his troops. Another day later they broke camp and marched on toward the west to end a peasant uprising that was led by a charismatic young woman, a girl originally from Zhejiang Province going by the name of Fei Hu – Flying Fox.
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