Nine thousand men marched with Xiliang, yet he felt alone; he had been separated from his friends from the beginning when he was shoved deep into the far right flank and pushed away from everyone he knew. First, they take me away from my wife, then they take me from my friends, why, why? I wonder if the soldiers know I'm a poet and create stories in my mind? Is that why they separated me from my friends? Now Xiliang's shoes were gone, his trousers were in tatters and his right leg trickled with blood. He didn't know where he was going, he barely knew where he had been, and he hadn't eaten in three days. He worried about his new bride. How can I provide for Jiangnu? How can I protect her when I can't protect myself? How can I let her know I'm alive? If I can escape, I'll be able to provide for my family, but in the meantime will anyone know where I'm going? Fan Xiliang moved to the outer edge of the group, gazing at the distant hills, noting each boulder and bush in between him and freedom. I can do it! I can escape if I can make it to the hills. Xiliang looked far off to his right and noticed a cave. Squinting, he spotted an opening large enough for a man to squeeze through. I can hide out for two or three nights and sneak back to the village. I can consummate my marriage-I will survive. Xiliang saw his chance. He was a step away from three tall bushes, one quick jump, one lunge, and he'd be free to escape the power of the emperor.

"Halt!" I-Tsing shouted as Xiliang wet his pants.

I've been caught. They'll kill me now. Xiliang turned slowly, preparing to give up, already admitting defeat, ready to lay his head on the nearest rock for the soldier's ax, but the guards weren't talking to him, they hadn't even noticed him. If he had continued walking just two more steps, he would have been free, instead he had stopped, and now he lost his last chance for freedom. Now, he would remain a slave forever. This is worse than death, Xiliang thought, this is worse, far more terrifying than death.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Moments after Fan Xiliang was conscripted, Meng Jiangnu screamed so piercingly that the dogs' ears pressed back against their heads, the old women sucked in their breath, and the babies stopped crying, even the firecracker boys, who had gathered to celebrate Meng's and Xiliang's wedding, skittered away, down the pathway, crying and screaming into the emptiness of the night.

When Jiangnu awoke from her nightmare, she looked around and realized everyone in the village was crying-even the ancient men and the little boys-and she imagined that their tears were flowing so rapidly that the Yellow Sea would overflow. Since Fan Xiliang was only one of thirty men captured by the soldiers, the entire village wailed to the gods, pleading for their return. Then, just as Jiangnu stopped crying, the rain clouds broke and her tiny feet slid easily into the moist earth, her heels sank into the oozing mud, and the hem of her hand sewn red wedding dress turned brown with the filth of the pathway. Her shoes were brown now; and brownness covered everything while the earth eddied around her as if it she was sinking into a maelstrom. All of Jiangnu's clothing turned from sepia to taupe to deep dark deep brown that filled her soul and inundated her spirit. She could think of nothing except the safety of her husband. Gods above, protect my husband. Keep Xiliang healthy and strong. Guide him, keep him safe and strong.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The boys: Lian, Man-Wei and Hui continued running through the village, screaming because the men had taken their daddies, howling because they hadn't heard the boom, boom, bang, bang of the firecrackers, unaware of their mothers' misery, unaware that their daddies were gone forever. Only the women knew they were lost, lost and wallowing in the loneliness of their souls as their hatred welled up, clouding their brownness with ebon anger saturated with fear. Almost as one, they fell to the ground, looked up into the wet sky and pleaded with the gods.

"Who is willing to help us in our hour of need?"

"Help us, oh mighty gods."

"Protect our children."

"Watch over our crops."

"Have mercy on the widows."

Jiangnu's body twisted and her stomach churned when she heard the word, "widow." Do they mean me? Are they telling me Xiliang's dead?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Three more weeks passed and Xiliang's shoeless feet were bloody and swollen; he felt as if he was walking on stubs gnawed off by rocks. He had lost ten jin¹ and was suffering from constant diarrhea. If I don't get where I'm going soon, nothing will matter. They can dump my body along the road like they've done to hundreds of others. I don't care anymore. Then Xiliang remembered his obligations. If I die now, no one will remember the names of my ancestors; no one will remember Hou-Shang, Shan-non, Chun-Wa or Shao-Chi, and no one will take care of my family . . . no one will take care of my bride. I must survive-I have no choice but to survive! Xiliang continued dragging his bleeding feet along the road. Suddenly, he looked to his far left and saw Lin Chuen stumbling toward him. "Lin-Chuen, Lin-Chuen," Xiliang shouted, "Come to me over here."
¹Jin is an ancient unit of measurement in China. One jin equals approximately half a kilo.

Lin-Chuen struggled to reach his childhood friend. "I . . . don't think . . . you'll be able . . . to mount the . . . mare . . . after all." Lin-Chuen collapsed and died in Xiliang's arms, the first of many who would die in his arms in the months to come.

"No-o-o-o-o," Xiliang screamed as three guards began beating him with their sticks. "I don't care if you beat me-kill me-kill us all-I am not a slave-I am not-"

Xiliang felt the blows to his stomach and side, but it was the blow to his head that knocked him unconscious. Thankfully, it was evening and the soldiers had decided to camp for the night, otherwise Xiliang wouldn't have survived. He lay on the ground, bleeding, frozen, fantasizing about what he could do to escape.

"You can run if you want," Ju-Yi, said, "everyone runs sooner or later, but no one ever returns. The emperor controls your breath, your body, your soul. Even I own you." Ju-Yi laughed as he thought about the freedom he enjoyed as a soldier and the power he wielded over the workers. "Go ahead, try to get away." Ju-Yi grinned his wide smile as he flicked his snot filled fingers onto Xiliang's bare chest, plummeting a bloody booger against Xiliang's left breast. "Go ahead, run back to your village and when you get there, tell them they have minutes to live. The emperor will rout you out like dogs and his soldiers will torture you in front of your family; they'll rape your wife and children in front of you as they slice the skin from your body. Run! Here, take this food. I'll give you a running start. I'll even turn my back. I won't tell anyone what you're doing. Go ahead-GO HOME!" Ju-Yi's laughter echoed from the distant mountains. If Xiliang had been just a little sicker, just a little more tired, he would have taken Ju-Yi's challenge and run, but he knew the solider spoke the truth. Everyone knew they spoke the truth-they had nothing to lose-and the only thing they enjoyed more than working for the emperor was watching their prey suffer.

"Remember I, too, came from a small village and when the emperor conscripted twenty soldiers from my neighboring village, one ran back. The next day he and the entire village were led off as slaves. I hear they're being turned into terra cotta warriors now-encased in clay to guard the emperor's tomb for all eternity." Ju-Yi picked his nose again, digging his index finger deep inside his left nostril, searching for a large bugger. "If you don't care about your family or your village, go ahead, run." This time Ju-Yi didn't laugh, he glowered, and Xiliang hung his face down to the ground. He didn't know if he should worship Ju-Yi's feet or ignore him, but Xiliang realized how futile it was to flee, how senseless it was to think about running away.

"I will remain. I will build the emperor's wall."

"And you will enjoy your work?"

Xiliang could do nothing but nod. I am a fool, I'll stay here and I'll never complain in front of the soldiers again. The emperor may own my body, but he'll never own my soul! Only the gods own my soul. Xiliang caressed the jade hairpin he had sewed inside the folds of his now tattered shirt-the one he had purchased for Jiangnu, knowing he would see her again sooner than anyone would ever believe.


On to Chapter Fourteen
Whipping
Back to Chapter Twelve
The Bowl by the Door
Complete Chapter List

The Scot Walker Story Page

Tarheel Writer Home Page

I'd love to hear what you think!  Leave me a comment on our contact us page.