by Lyra Shanti
“What do you mean?” asked Gan.
Sa slightly grinned and said, “The white dragon is a healing soul, but… like all gods, he is also… selfish. Be careful, my friend, or he will not only bless you with strength, but with hunger.”
With that elusive warning, the priest lifted the tray and left the room, forcing Gan to ponder Sa's words alone.
Hunger? he thought. What kind of hunger?
Feeling the throb once again, Gan feared the spirit of the white dragon had possessed his very soul.
White-haired priest, in heaven’s name, what have you done to me?
Chapter 4: Dumplings
J on rubbed his head. The recurring nightmare always hit him like a thousand bricks. Once again, the bad men came and burned his home, his family, and his entire village. Horribly wounded, he couldn't fight. All he could do was watch. This time, however, the dream was different. There was a man—a priest perhaps—and he was stunning, almost otherworldly. If Jon didn't know better, he'd think it was a sensual kind of dream, and that was definitely new.
Slowly rising to his feet, he then opened the sliding door of his hotel balcony and threw off his black silk robe to the floor. Using the martial arts technique that he learned on his last movie, he took a deep breath and calmed his mind. He then began his morning ritual of Tai Chi, followed by white tea and toast.
I've got to get it together, he told himself. The last thing he wanted to do was repeat the near breakdown he recently had on set. He knew he had to clear his mind, no matter what. His reputation depended on it.
Those dreams, however, just wouldn't quit. He wondered if it had something to do with the revenge plot of the film… or maybe just the location. He hadn't been to Beijing in a long time, not since his childhood. When he left for America, he hoped he would never return. But here he was… revisiting his youth, staying at some bed and breakfast his manager had recommended. It was a quiet little place, and surprisingly far from the city. It seemed the perfect place to come to terms with his anger, or so he hoped. Any further outbursts, and he knew he could kiss his acting career goodbye.
He'd always been bullied as a child. Secretly bisexual and a “pretty boy,” Jon never fit in. It made him prone to fights with family members and schoolmates. When he traveled to find a career in the states, Jon left everything behind, or so he thought. He hoped his revenge against those who bullied him would be sweet when he got a major role in an action movie, but the more he succeeded, the worse his tension grew. Always worrying how he was perceived or if he got the scene right, Jon felt even more paranoid than when he was a child.
It didn't help that his recent relationship with Andrew Holt, his gorgeous co-star on his last film, suddenly became public after a snapshot turned up on social media. Jon panicked, broke off the relationship, then headed to his birthplace, as if that would somehow make things right.
What am I doing? thought Jon as he sipped his tea. I can't go backwards. I can only move ahead. Maybe I'll finally tell my parents the truth. So, I'm bi. It's no big deal, is it?
Gulping, he knew it would be a big deal to his parents, and he couldn't face them. Not yet. Right now, all Jon wanted to do was to meditate and relax. Maybe he'd put on a pair of sunglasses and see some sights. After all, he wasn't that famous yet.
~~
“Excuse me,” Sam politely said to the man at the front desk of the quaint hotel. He wore a gray jogging outfit and was middle-aged with a warm smile.
“Yes? Can I help you?” said the man with a thick mandarin accent.
“Yeah, um…” Sam replied, putting her smartphone back into her jeans pocket, “I want to sign-up for that Great Wall tour your hotel offers.”
“Oh, good, you will enjoy,” said the man behind the counter. He pulled out a reservation book and asked her name.
“Sam. Samantha Hanover Mills.”
While Sam watched the man slowly writing her name in Chinese, she heard a deep, but gentle voice behind her say, “Those are a lot of names.”
She turned around and saw a handsome, Asian looking man smiling at her. He was a little taller than her—maybe 6 feet—and he wore a beautiful, navy blue suit.
“Um… what?” she nervously replied, unsure if he was talking to her or someone else.
“You have a unique sounding name,” he said with his dapper smile. “It's a nice one, though.”
“Uh… thanks,” she said, pulling a few stray hairs behind her ears.
“Ah! Mr. Feng!” the man at the front desk exclaimed. “Are you signing up for the Great Wall tour as well?”
Sam noticed how elated the man at the front desk now seemed. Is this Feng guy important or something?
“Oh, I don't think so. I've already seen the wall. I grew up around here, you know.”
“Yes! I read that.” The man behind the counter began talking to the handsome guy in full Mandarin, and Sam was completely lost.
She quickly became annoyed. I guess Mr. Feng is famous here. Geez… I wanted to ask about cool places to eat and visit. Ugh. I'm so sick of important men getting the upper hand.
Frustrated, Sam walked over to the main guest area where a petite woman was serving tea and what looked like dumplings. She offered the tray to Sam with a smile. It wasn’t the normal breakfast Sam was used to, but the dumplings looked so good, it was impossible to resist.
Sam took two and sat down at a wooden table. There was a TV playing some kind of drama, but it was all in Mandarin, and Sam didn't understand a word. The dumplings, however, were out of this world delicious.
Just as she was biting into her second dumpling, she saw his face on TV—it was Mr. Feng! He was selling beer, it seemed. She looked over at the real version of him in the flesh; he was still conversing with the man at the front desk. She looked back at the TV. Taking a sip of designer bottled beer, he winked at the camera and said something in Chinese, his dark blue eyes sparkling at the camera. Damn, she thought, he's really good looking.
As if he heard her thoughts, she saw him coming over to where are sat on the red loveseat by the table.
“Oh god, they're still playing that silly commercial,” he said. Again, Sam wasn't sure if he was talking to her or not.
Turning to meet her eyes, he smiled and said, “Are those good?”
Sam gulped and wiped her mouth with a hotel provided napkin. “They're… um… delicious. Best I've ever had, to be honest “
He looked at the petite woman and waved for service. He took three dumplings and immediately handed the woman a tip. Sam still didn't fully understand Renminbi, the Chinese currency, but it seemed like a sizable tip.
I'm so not getting involved with a good looking, wealthy, full of himself kind of guy, she thought, trying to look away without appearing impolite.
“Would you like some tea, Ms. Hanover Mills?”
“Huh?”
She turned her head and saw him offering a small, white and blue cup of tea. “Oh, thanks,” she replied, taking the cup. It wasn’t coffee, but it would do.
“Be careful,” he said. “It's pretty hot.”
She looked into his penetrating, dark blue eyes. They were even more intense in person, and there was something oddly familiar about them, as if she had stared into those eyes a million times before. Trying to shrug off the building deja vu, she assumed it was simply because she'd just seen him on TV.
As she carefully sipped the tea, she felt a twinge of desire pulsating below her stomach. Oh, hell, no. I'm on vacation to clear my head. I can't fall for some guy I just met. Don't be, stupid, Sam.
Mr. Feng smiled and said, “Um, sorry… I know this is going to sound strange, but… I have to say this. You're terribly familiar. Have we met before?”
Suddenly, her mind flashed to her recurring dream. The wounded warrior with his deep blue eyes appeared to be sitting here and now, right in front of her. That’s impossible, she told herself as she gave him a nervous smile.
He smiled in return and said, “Maybe in a past life…�
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Sam uncontrollably snort-giggled, then quickly felt stupid for doing so. “Yeah… a past life. Who knows?”
Chapter 5: Healing
“F amiliar?” asked Sa with a raised brow. “I'm not sure what you mean.”
Gan wasn't sure either, though he said the words nonetheless. “I don't know exactly… but you… this temple… It feels like I've been here before.”
Sa took a deep breath and looked to his side. Gan wondered if it was sadness in the priest’s eyes.
“I admit I feel the same sense of familiarity.” Sa returned his gaze to Gan and added, “Perhaps you have been here in your previous life.”
“I don't know if I believe in such things,” said Gan before nervously gulping down a sip of water. He'd faced dangerous battles with raiding bandits, and yet, this beautiful, ever graceful and mysterious priest frightened him more than anyone. There was something about his intensely green eyes and the way he spoke; it cut through Gan’s very soul.
Sa slowly stood up and reached for a musical instrument unlike any Gan had seen. It was a stringed instrument, but small and light. Sa sat down, his white robe slightly creased at his knees, and began to softly pluck at the strings. It sounded like heaven to Gan's battle-weary ears.
Watching Sa's memorizing hand movements, Gan felt entranced. He cannot be from this earthly plane. He must be a god in disguise.
The song the priest played was sweet, but melancholy, and it made Gan want to shed long suppressed tears.
When the song ended, Sa opened his eyes and looked directly into Gan's. “Did you know this song?” he asked.
Gan shook his head, still in awe.
“This is the song of the eternal dance between yin and yang,” Sa continued. “It is a song of struggle, of light and dark, of balance, and ultimately, love.”
Gan felt a tightness pulling at his heart. It ached and throbbed against his will. Why do I feel this way? What unnatural power does this strange priest have over me?!
Unable to withstand his confusion, Gan quickly stood and excused himself. He raced to the garden by the spring. There, he breathed in deep as the pungent scent of jasmine filled his head. In and out, inhaling and exhaling, Gan finally relaxed.
It had only been a few days since Sa stitched up his wound, but it felt to Gan as if weeks had gone by. There was a dreamlike quality to the temple, as well as the priest who ran it. I must regain my composure, thought Gan. I have to get back to my village soon and plan my revenge against the bandits who stole my life. I cannot stay here and lose my way.
“Perhaps the white dragon led you here,” said the priest who had silently approached Gan from behind.
Surprised, Gan turned around and said, “Perhaps, though I cannot stay much longer. I am needed at home.”
Sa raised his brow. After a pause, he said, “Is there a home to save? You told me your village was burned to the ground… and your family has passed. If they are all gone, whom shall you return to?”
Gan swallowed hard, resisting the urge to snap at his gracious, albeit presuming, host.
“I will go home and avenge their untimely deaths. It is the least I can do for failing to protect them.”
Sa slowly shook his head. “You are not ready.”
Gan crossed his arms and said, “I'm not ready? What do you mean?”
Sa gave a sigh, then asked, “What did you think of the song I played you?”
Gan shrugged and said, “It was… beautiful… heavenly.”
“Did you see any images in your mind when you heard the music?”
Gan gave a short, slightly aggravated exhale. “I think I may have imagined the white dragon for a moment… lying in a field of pink and white flowers.”
Sa smiled. “Good. There is hope for you yet.”
Chapter 6: Goosebumps
“M s. Hanover Mills?” said a soft, deep voice, abruptly ending her dream. “I don't think you're supposed to fall asleep during meditation class.”
Sam woke and saw a pair of dark blue eyes looking at her from above. Those gorgeous eyes were aided by silky black, shoulder-length locks, and an exquisite, charming smile. The view made Sam a little light-headed.
“I um,” she mumbled with an embarrassed grin. “I was just really into the meditation.
Jon gave a hearty laugh, then sat down next to her on a nearby rug. The outdoor meditation class seemed like a good idea when she signed up for it, but the combo of her leftover jetlag and the gorgeous man to her right made her rethink that decision.
“You're a funny girl,” he said with a wink.
“Woman.”
“Hmm?”
“I'm a funny woman.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry. My English still isn't what it should be.”
Bullshit, she silently quipped. Great. He's gorgeous, but probably a sexist jerk.
Not wanting anything to do with men even remotely similar to her last boyfriend, she stood to her feet and said, “Okay, that's enough meditating for one day. Catch you later, funny boy.”
“Wait” said Jon, standing up, rushing to her side. “I'm sorry if I offended you. I just wanted to apologize.”
She sighed and turned to him. She really wished he'd stop being so damned handsome. He also looked really sincere. Sam felt her heart melt against her better judgement.
“It's alright. John, right? Look… I'm just coming from a bad relationship and—”
“I'm sorry to hear that. I am as well. It makes it difficult to trust. But… I really am sorry for earlier.”
She blinked. “Huh? Earlier?”
“When I said you are familiar. I'm not usually so blunt, especially with someone I've just met. It was rude of me, and I'm sorry if it offended you.”
“Oh,” she said, a bit bewildered. “I… I really wasn't offended by that, more confused.”
He nodded and smiled sympathetically. Geez, she thought, he really is almost unnaturally beautiful. Go away, will you? You're gonna make me faint or something.
“So… what do you think?”
“About what?” she replied in a daze.
“Are you still confused?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
Jon laughed that hearty, manly laugh of his. It was such a warm sound, and it vibrated into her soul, making her want to laugh along with him. Sam hadn't genuinely laughed in years. She wondered if she even remembered how.
Smiling, she found herself drinking the man into her mind, studying his face and the way he moved. He was confident, yet reserved, and his blue eyes twinkled in the sun. Sam knew those eyes. Yes, he was familiar. Crazy familiar. But she had no idea how to even begin telling him about her recurring dreams. She was hoping the meditation class would give her a clear vision, but she had simply fallen asleep.
“So…” said Jon, “do you feel the same, or am I just crazy?”
She smirked, then said, “I'm really not a good judge of mental stability, but… no, you're not alone in the feeling. Truth is, you're totally familiar. Then again, so is this entire place. It's hard to make sense of it all, to be honest.”
“Hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin. “When you say ‘this place,’ what do you mean? Beijing?”
“Well, no… just this area. I picked this BnB online. There was something about it… like I've been here before… in my dreams.”
Jon nodded and said, “Me too. I didn't pick it myself, my agent did, but once I arrived, I felt like I was… home. Strange, isn't it?”
Sam smiled, touched by his willingness to seem vulnerable and unsure. Maybe he's not a sexist jerk after all. Maybe he's just old fashioned and a bit awkward. Despite his good looks and actor’s charm, she started to think there was a sweet, sensitive man underneath.
“I've been having these recurring dreams…” she found herself admitting.
Leading her into the tea room with a gentle pull of her hand, Jon said, “Go on.”
Sitting down on a red couch with him, Sam nervously continued. “Well, they're
always sort of the same. The same, but different.”
Jon cocked his head to the side a little and crossed his arms. “How so?”
“Like, it's always at this temple somewhere… with these white dragon statues in front. And everything is peaceful with huge trees surrounding the place. Oh, and there's this pond… or maybe it's a spring. I don't know, but it's warm and lovely, and it's important somehow, like… holy.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, I know. And you're there.”