by Mark Swaine
Yu-Huang is already beginning to feel his troubled mind brightening up, like sunrays reflecting on the scales of a shoal of fish. So he rises from his makeshift sofa, a bale of hay in a distant field, and begins his first day of freedom. Yu-Huang walks among the people going about their day’s labour and savours the cheery mood and upbeat atmosphere. He knows that he needs to be amongst the public in order to truly understand them, and he cherishes his second identity as a passing nobody. His soul brims as passersby are decent through the goodness of their hearts, as opposed to being obliged and commanded to were they aware of his true identity. Yu-Huang knows in his heart that his treatment amongst the mortals in his pauper's disguise is as real as it will get. And even though the Emperor enjoys his excursions, his purpose remains clear, to ensure the continued survival and prosperity of his people and to keep strong the ramparts that holds this country together. To keep true the ideals and laws that must be upheld by the hearts and minds of every philosopher, soldier and citizen, regardless of status, even if means disciplining a few mutineers along the way. The Emperor is proud of his people for they treat him so well, it leaves him peaceful in the knowledge they are treating each other just as well. Yu-Huang would frequently walk the endless forests, meadows and orchards of the outer Huanghua territories, and has a particular favourite. A place his eyes would often gaze upon as he'd look upon his city from above.
It's a three-day trek to the ‘Huābàn diào luò’ (Falling Petal) grove, but to the divine Emperor only meagre seconds had passed by the time he arrives. Strolling barefoot beneath the clusters of reaching silhouettes cast by out reaching branches, he listens to the music created by the rustling twigs of orange and lemon trees, and savours the scent of lingering citrus. Yu-Huang loves the trees, from their tiny seeds to the hundreds of various species they produce. In moderation, trees provided wood for fuel during the harsh winter seasons and provided crafting materials to build shelters and homes. Sometimes Yu-Huang would stop at each one to observe their structure and admire their many different forms whilst losing himself in a daydream. He would stroll in this orchard whenever he could, as if he had all the time in the world. He samples the large variety of fruit, picking one from each tree, even the lemons. The Emperor splits a big lemon into two pieces and takes a large bite. Savouring the fresh juicy burst from the yellow ball, he nods approvingly and continues to eat it in walk.
Greeting the many stall owners gathering their stock, he aids them in their morning labour. Reaching with ease for the branches that are much too high for some of the shorter and older people. Lost in thought whilst heaving heavy full baskets onto the back of a cart, he suddenly recalls the riddle from Emperor Kazuko. Yu-Huang had moved the enigma regarding the Bonsai seed into the back of his mind since his lengthy conversation with Kamui Li, hoping and waiting for an epiphany to make clear the answer. Yu-Huang wonders why the seed he ingested had not yet manifested into the tree as it should have done. Many times now he'd focussed its life force to the loose soil of the earth within the Shinnen palace grounds, yet no life emerged. A kind old stall worker stuffs Yu-Huang's backpack with fresh fruit, and the traveller in disguise humbly bids her farewell. Yu-Huang continues along the mile stretch of trees and wonders how Kazuko had succeeded in his task of creating the portal. The Emperor gently passes his fingers across the coarse bark of each tree whilst recalling a fragment of Emperor Kazuko's message.
“The seed is the key, though will not wake without the mortal soul of the Enlightened One. The Bonsai is the way, the Bonsai is the gateway for the Demi-gods.”
Time to meditate upon this mystery was needed; he could wait no longer for the answer to flow to his conscious mind. The people of the Huanghua city believe themselves safe, and they are safe, but for how long? The Emperor cannot say.
Yu-Huang pities the mortals for they believe themselves safe under his watch, protected by his might and the strength of the Jade army. They heed the stories of late, and fear them, and believe themselves safe behind the long walls and high mountains. But ultimately they believe themselves safe because they're incapable of comprehending the terror that awaits them, Yu-Huang knows this, and unfortunately so does his illusive adversary, the Darkness. There have been far too many signs to suggest the Darkness would not attempt to make its presence known here, and the Emperor then realises that its mere existence has already cast its dark light upon him. The warning he received during his training and meditation was a warning of its intentions. The tales of horror spreading throughout the city. The missing dragons, the crazy dreams and these unusual sensations of tiredness and lethargy he was experiencing. Yu-Huang dares to fear that these concerns are only the beginning and that something far away had something far more dastardly planned than a mere takeover of his homeland.
Something dark stirs, so far away it cannot be seen, not even by his foresight. And as hard as he tries to picture this entity in his mind’s eye, it only makes his head hurt. The Emperor leans his arm against a tree and winces at the unpleasant sensation thumping behind his forehead. His head pounds harder as he contemplates just how much time he possesses to solve the riddles from Emperor Kazuko before it’s too late. The pounding in Yu-Huang's head slows to a complete stop as he glances over to the orchard's finish. One of the stall workers has no trouble in reaching the higher branches, and Yu-Huang finds himself mesmerised by her every movement. He was hoping to see her before he left the Huābàn diào luò orchard; after all, the pretty stall worker is the reason why he favours this orchard more than any other. His heart beats much faster in her presence, and he feels inexplicably alive. The Emperor wonders if these are the emotions that mortals feel when speaking of their beloved. On the few occasions where the stall worker had sensed the stranger's presence, she'd look at him in a way he can't interpret, and it filled his heart with warmth. For the past four seasons he had been experiencing something wonderful for the first time in what feels like an eternity. All he knew was that he wanted to keep this strange and wonderful sensation with him to the last of his days.
Yu-Huang never asked of anything from anybody, and this was the first time he truly desired something for himself. And if the merciful and kind Emperor was going to ask for just one thing, then he wanted something that would last until the end of his days. The life span of a divine being is much greater than that of a mortal's, ‘tis their celestial spirit that makes this possible. Pondering these truths had brought a grave reality to Yu-Huang's senses as he ponders upon his future. What life was he to lead if it contained no meaning, without someone to hold, someone to share it with? What worth does his soul possess without that of another to truly see it? With these self centred thoughts, he remembers his first meeting with Kamui Li. Yu-Huang had seen darkness in Kamui Li's heart, yet it was outshone by the devotion he holds for his secret beloved Sumiko. Witnessing the love in Kamui's eyes for Sumiko had increased his desire to share his life with someone in such a way. This woman, who graced the orchards with her placid presence, made Yu-Huang feel in such a way that can only be described as alive. Yu-Huang stands up straight and asserts himself, ridding his mind of his state of vulnerability as she smiles at him with a raised hand. Yu-Huang returns the gesture whilst promising himself that one day, and one day soon, he will introduce himself to this fine young woman and say… something. But for now his responsibilities call his mind to his everlasting duty to the well-being of his people, and he leaves the orchard to make his way to the outskirts of the city that borders with the cavernous countryland.
Yu-Huang's legendary compassion is known through the land of China, for his kindness extended to all those in need. He would tell stories of hope and glory to the sick, and would hold their weak and frail hands with the promise of honest company during their final hours. Yu-Huang realises that it had been too long since he last tended to the sick. In the many stretched bamboo Healing Huts in the hundreds of villages throughout the city, Healers were making new discoveries every day. They were some of the most respected
people in the land; the most serious-minded regarding their passion for healing and among the most significant teachers a pupil could receive the honour of studying under. Various techniques allowed them to enhance their knowledge further each day as they practised acupuncture, Tui-na, cupping, Moxibustion, bone-setting and many other creative ways to treat the human form. But it was the studying of the various medicinal herbs from the Kang Fu garden that gave them power of knowledge, a garden which he intends to visit after his inspection of the less fortunate areas of the country. Life was more difficult on the outskirts, and was a true example of painful growth, for even though land was plentiful, the earth was not as accommodating. Not much of value could be cultured near the outskirts, and much of their livestock and vegetation is cultured far from their homesteads, far up the mountain trails above the rocky land and dry soil.
The closer one lived to the ‘Zhēngqì (steam)’ mountain range, the less fertile the land became. The system of endless connecting caverns and channels eventually reconnect to form one disgusting underground labyrinth of raw sewage that eventually flows to the Zhēngqì mountain range. The underground system of caves flows rich with waste, but must be guided manually through the network of gills and ravines deep within fissures. Yu-Huang follows the dirt roads and greasy flapping banners to the villages teeming with gamblers, criminals and those much less fortunate. Two days later he arrives late at night at the ‘Huīsè de Cǎo’ (Grey Grass) village. Yu-Huang stops at a rundown Healing Hut where he's provided with water, something that was always in fresh supply at the base of the mountains. As he sits quietly on the sheltered wicker and bamboo porch, Jade soldiers on horseback yell for aid as they gallop wildly to the entrance. The forty horses skid to a dusty halt and Yu-Huang appears concerned as he notices unconscious and wounded men secured over their high curved rears.
Yu-Huang stands aside the doorway to make room a team of Healers rushing by with bamboo stretchers. The Chief Healer bellows commands to her team to prepare their stations and ready medicine as the wounded are carried inside. The Bamboo stretchers bounce and creak as the young Healers huff and puff in careful and orderly fashioned pace. The wounded patients groan as they're placed onto bamboo bed mats where their wounds are inspected. A head strong Master Healer named Xiaojian speaks to the Jade Captain as a murmuring young teen is lifted of his saddle.
“What happened?” asks Xiaojian.
“Something happened in the sewers,” replies the Captain dismounting his horse.
“Rats, Xiaojian, they are covered in fresh rat bites. This is not normal, they are already displaying symptoms of fever,” says Quon, a bulky, shaven-headed apprentice bounding from the entrance.
“Captain, how long ago did this happen?” asks Xiaojian, strongly.
“Whence the sun cast its quarter sphere over the mountain,” says the Captain.
“That is not possible, rot is already setting into this man's wound,” says Xiaojian, closely inspecting the shivering man's gaping bloody shoulder. “Quon, prepare Ginger, Chrysanthemum, Camellia, cucumber, Croton seed, Ginseng and Ginkgo,” orders Xiaojian, wasting no time.
“Xiaojian I don't think we have enough for everybody,” says Quon, quietly.
“Spread it thinly, use Goji-Berry and Thundervine to increase the potency,” says Xiaojian.
“But the side effects of Thunder vine...” protests Quon.
“...are not important compared to the severity of their infections, now go!” urges Xiaojian, pointing to the door.
The Jade Captain asks if he and his men can be of help and Xiaojian accepts by giving them a list of herbs to retrieve in the mountains. Xiaojian double takes at Yu-Huang as he follows her into the large spacious sick bay. Except for Xiaojian's occasional glances, Yu-Huang goes unnoticed as he walks along the rows of bamboo beds and mats. The wounded vomit blood and break into seizures as others sweat and shiver, yet to experience the worst. Huddled up in curled positions, they clench their eyes shut in the hope of blocking out the pain and discomfort. But in the darkness they hallucinate things of terror that snaps their eyelids open. In wide-eyed fright and confusion, they're left bewildered as to where they are, and how they got there. Whimpers and silent cries are heard from many fearing the worst as they bury their faces under thick wool quilts, hoping their dread will disappear into the dark of shelter. Healers hold wasp hive pots to the mouths of the sick as they vomit wildly and agonisingly. Yu-Huang curiously inspects the quality of the old healing hut whilst observing their stock of herbs and potions contained in various sized containers on the stacks and rows of shelves. Walking by a sideboard, he looks curiously at a range of strange looking surgical tools. He picks up a large wide container formed of transparent hexagonal scales. Yu-Huang touches the smooth surface of the container and inspects two long clear tubes attached to both sides. Attached to the ends of both tubes are long, brown striped, hollow pincers.
“Super-heated dragon scales to maintain temperature, boiled clear grass to create a flexible channel, and mosquito mouths to act as form of entry. Clever, what form of craft is this?” muses Yu-Huang.
“I would not touch that if I were you,” says a New Healer passing by.
“What manner of tool is this?” asks Yu-Huang.
“A passing trader stopped here not long ago, he claimed this device has the ability to transfer blood from one host to another,” replies the Healer.
“Truly amazing, does it work?” asks Yu-Huang, admiring the concept.
“We do not know, we requested a demonstration, proof of its workings. But he fled as he would not test it on himself,” says the Healer, recalling the idiotic merchant.
The Healer rushes off to tend to a patient, and Yu-Huang overhears Xiaojian and Quon conversing quietly in great apprehension. Yu-Huang learns that the injuries of the wounded are affecting each of them differently, making it incredibly difficult to treat them individually. Quon continues to inform Xiaojian that many of their infectious bites continue to bleed out, and that their temperatures are varying sporadically and drastically. Xiaojian frowns, for their varying conditions are making it impossible to decide which medication to administer to combat their infections. As Quon finishes his diagnoses, Xiaojian sullenly tells him that they will not give up on them, but at present all they could do is make them as comfortable as possible, and prepare for the worst. Xiaojian catches Yu-Huang eavesdropping from afar, and continues to speak to Quon.
“Maybe if we had more supplies they could outlast the infection,” says Quon.
“Many times have I sent word to the Emperor's Brotherhood requesting aid and supplies,” says Xiaojian, glaring at Yu-Huang.
“Why do they not heed our pleas?” asks Quon.
“Perhaps we are not worthy of his Majesty's divine attention,” sneers Xiaojian, leering at Yu-Huang.
Yu-Huang knows now that she can see right through his disguise, and although she dare not address her opinions directly, her disdain for him is quite clear. Yu-Huang takes the hint and nods fairly in her direction. The Healer was right to feel so angry, and why the Brotherhood had not tended to their humble requests, he could not say. But the Brotherhood is his responsibility, so he accepts the blame placed upon him by the strong minded and fearless doctor.
The Emperor discreetly walks back and forth between the rows of the sick, hoping for signs of recovery. The families of the sick surround their bedsides, their faces fraught with worry as they fear the worst. Others embrace the bandaged hands of their loved ones, fighting the idea of their likely fate, whilst others cannot help but give in to despair. Yu-Huang happens upon a lone young man shivering in his bed at the far end of the room. Staring up at the bamboo tied roof, he shivers in fear with tears streaming down both sides of his face. His bottom lip trembles as he lies alone, pondering on the fate of his good friend, hoping somehow that he still lives. The teen wonders if his wife and daughters have yet learned of the incident, for he would like to see their faces one last time. Accepting the reality that he is to d
ie without his beloved wife by his side, he doesn't even bother crying out for aid. The shivering teen accepts the inevitable and goes along with the insufferable pain. During the late hour, various family members of the sick begin experiencing feverish symptoms. The Healers work fast as they quarantine them to the back of the Hut behind a wall of cane screens and Xiaojian has soldiers posted around the Hut to ensure nobody leaves or enters. The less experienced Healers are nervous and on edge, regardless of the large curved leaves covering their mouths and noses. But no matter how many times they washed their hands in cow urine, there was no guarantee that they themselves wouldn't contract this sickness that was now airborne. Only Yu-Huang didn't seem concerned about taking measures to protect himself as he continues to peruse their working conditions. Yu-Huang looks out of the wide back window and sees a garden of herbs growing in rows of dragon manure. Dragon manure being rich in minerals would ensure rapid growth, for the stones and dirt of the hostile and arid ground prevented any kind of crop growth.
“Ingenious,” muses Yu-Huang.
Xiaojian looks at Yu-Huang from afar whilst clutching a slim surgical blade strapped to her side. Xiaojian does not remember much from her childhood, but she recalls the chanting, the chanting that hails for Yu-Huang's death. She contemplates on how easy it would be to quietly approach him from behind and slit his throat, for her people, for her father. Even though it is her father who wants Yu-Huang dead more than any other creature out for revenge, it was he who sent her away to live a normal life. Xiaojian did not hate Yu-Huang, but his death would surely bring peace to her people, or a lifetime of war. Xiaojian's face tenses as she recalls her tribal name ‘Fēngzhēng (Kite)’ and she looks to the only possession dear to her since she was a child, a long beautiful kite in the form a dragon. She follows the twisting design of the black and red dragon draped across the support beams of the hut, and she smiles in remembrance at its ability to harness the wind and slice through limbs with its razor edged wings and stabbing tail. She stares at his long pointed tail, winding body and ferocious head and recalls her father’s last words, and so slides her hand away from the blade as Quon calls for her aid.