Jiao - chapter 5

I filled a bowl with strawberries and crept to the door early the next morning. Quietly climbing down to the ground, I watched the crowned roof of my home getting smaller and smaller until it was swallowed in the gray mist.
On the earth, the spring blooms on the cherry tree waved at me eagerly from their home by the road, pink petals flying in appreciation. I stopped and touched the rough bark, leaning against the tree for a moment. The travelers who used to come along this road were fewer by the moon, now only an old man, black hair tipped with silver, pulled a dusty donkey along the well worn red dirt of the path. He looked across at me and smiled at the girl half hidden from view by the opulent blooms, and I stepped out of the shade and smiled back, raising my hand in greeting, before turning the walk alongside the road in the wet grass.
My bare feet delighted in the opportunity to dance through the dew-laden grass, the skirt of my new black yi swinging with every step. As I neared Zhi’s circular den home, cut out of the ground into one muddy room, voices floated out through the still air.
“What must we do? We have to conserve.”
“We are fine, Sani.”
“We are not fine! Our family is hungry! Our crops are not growing!”
“The crops will grow again. We will have food again.”
“And how must we survive until then? Have you seen our daughter? She was once the beauty of the village, now she is skin and bones.”
“Zhi will be fine, Sani. She is a strong girl.”
“She was once so. But not so anymore! She is weak and thin, flimsy as rice paper.”
“Sani… you must see reason.”
“Reason? I am seeing reason. You are seeing fantasy.”
The voices escalated, and a startled flock of birds took wing off the mud roof, wings painting the white sky like brushes dipped in ink. I nervously chewed on a small strawberry from the bowl and crept over the top of the hill that was the back of their home. Without thinking my hand reached into the bowl to eat another fruit, but I stopped it midway. These are Zhi’s, I reminded myself. She is the one who is hungry, not me.
She must be at our place by the pond, I concluded. I had hoped to find her at her house, but the quiet tranquility of the pond must have held a strong allure for her, after being in the midst of her parents fighting. I turned away from the house, trying to cover my ears so the angry words couldn’t reach them, and headed towards the small stand of trees in the distance. With each step away from Zhi’s house, my feet seemed to grow lighter, as if during the time I was listening, I grew heavy and sad, and now was lightening and releasing the burden. Striding along the path, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I would not let my friend starve.
Under the shade of the trees, the ground was cold and I stepped on the outstretched roots of trees to keep my bare feet warm. Stepping gingerly along the familiar path, I was assaulted by childhood memories: under that tree we had built a small village for the winged people of the woods, by that bush we had clashed invisible swords, defending our selves from our imaginary demons, and the bright red berries that I had mistakenly eaten as a girl were hanging in luscious clusters, apparently not feeling any guilt for the sickness they caused me. The forest seemed like a shrine to youth, to us.
The trickling of water grew louder, and as I approached the wet rock I put my finger under the cold stream, letting the clear water reflect bits of light onto my white hand. Putting the finger in my mouth, I relished the sweet, brisk taste of the snowmelt river.
I looked at the steep hill I would have to climb to get the pond that lay neatly tucked in the valley on the other side. As I began to climb, I heard the rustling of dead leaves from over the hill. My heart rose and I knew she was there. My feet moved faster now, anxious to be with her.
A tinkling laugh floated over the hill. It must be her. But why was she laughing?
I crested the summit and saw her. Silhouetted against the gray morning mist, her hair fell in long waves away from her face, and she tilted her head to the side and giggled as she ate something from a bowl. I stood, confusedly, until I saw him.
I hadn’t seen his shadow because it was so near to the tree, but it had moved now. He placed his arm around her waist and leaned his head in towards hers, and their silhouettes melted together and his lips touched hers. I stood still in shock, until I heard him whisper, in a voice I couldn’t fail to recognize.
“I love you, Zhi.”
Dewei.
Shock turned to anger. How could she bring someone else here? It was our place. We’d made an agreement as children to honor this place, and we’d agreed it belonged only to us. We’d never told our parents. It was our refuge, our fairy land, our safe haven. We belonged here. How could she bring someone else here? My head was full of fury, my core like it was burning, and my stomach turned to lead with a white hot feeling of betrayal. I turned and ran, bowl of strawberries still clutched with my now white knuckles.
The scene replayed over and over again in my brain. The two shadows joining, the way ink blots combine inevitably on a sheet of paper. My feet pounded out a steady beat to the fierce music of my anger. At the edge of the forest I stopped and grabbed handfuls of strawberries from the bowl, cramming them into my mouth as sweet juice trickled down my chin.