Meandering River, Ardent Flame
Vivian Chak
Meandering River, Ardent Flame
Vivian Chak
Copyright © 2012 by Vivian Chak
License Notes
Table of Contents
1 Lian Flame
2 Lian Jiang
3 Yongtai
4 Li Xiang
5 Know What You Want
6 Bianjing
7 The Teacher
8 Return to Bianjing
9 Paying the Debt
10 Family Leave-Takings
11 Lian and Li
12 Flame
13 Family Li
14 Family Lian
15 Regret
16 Meandering River, Ardent Flame
17 Qing Ming Jie
18 Epilogue
Chapter 1: Lian Flame
Perched precipitously in a gnarled ancient tree, a girl peered into the gloom of the manor. It was nearing daybreak, but the house was silent and its courtyard was filled only with shadows. No one seemed to be around for a hundred li. Ominously, there were dark clouds above and obscuring mist below. Disquieted, the girl made her way from the tree, guided by its thick limbs and bulbous joints. At the bottom, the fog and silence nearly enveloped her. In a few steps, she could see the courtyard, but still no familiar faces. Stricken by the thought, she stopped moving. Where was everyone?
Maybe it's Qing Ming Jie; Tomb Sweeping Day, she thought, and everyone has taken the day off to visit their ancestor's graves.
The fog wasn't so right for the season, but spring had been late in coming this year. And she was in the north, so Flame attributed the cold weather to that. She moved quickly through the courtyard. A delivery of silk, stacked in cornered cart, awaited her father. Gardener Sun's spade sat in another corner, though the gardener himself was absent. Familiar surroundings told her she was home, but the suspicious silence made her want to believe otherwise.
The sound of something smashing—Ma's china—drew her attention to the central quarters of the house. Suddenly, she was there, and with a nauseous feeling, realized what day it was—her sister's wedding day, which was infinitely worse than Tomb Sweeping Day. She had the strange urge to laugh, even though it wasn't funny.
Before her, a strange tableau played out—three strangers were ransacking the hall—what right did they have to do so?—ripping apart the family shrine, slitting her mother's embroidered pillows, and tearing her father's calligraphy from the wall.
“Take care with that,” one of them growled at the man tearing at a hanging scroll. It was one her father had written and illustrated with a river dragon. He then whirled and barked at another who had smashed a second piece of her mother's china with the end of his scabbard. “That's half your salary there.” Despite the man's seemingly respectful efforts at preservation, Flame knew it to be based in his greed for loot, and hated him immediately. His deerskin boots were coated with a suspicious red tinge, and Flame found his scowl particularly hateful as he continually growled from beneath over-sized whiskers. The chastised man straightened his sword and tucked his hands in his robe sleeves. A thud made Flame turn. Several ledgers had been thrown at the barking man's feet with a triumphant smack. “It's all there,” the third man said, his yellow teeth exposed in a wolfish grin.
What's there?
But before Flame could find out, a dread seized her, the room whirled, and she found herself hugging her mother tightly.
“No, Ma!”
Through a haze of tears and gloomy moonlight, she could see her mother's normally beautiful face drawn in distress.
“You can't stay. Are you a good daughter? Yes? Then listen to Ma: leave the house—” at this point, Flame gave a muffled sob of protest in her mother's arm “—leave the house and find your elder sister, okay? Leave home—” Flame, with sobs having stopped, shook her head wildly.
“Can there be intact eggs under an overturned nest?”
Flame thought her mother looked angry, though in the dark room she couldn't be sure.
“There should be. Where did you learn such sayings from, Elder Sister? The Lian family is not going to end with your Ba. Nor with me.” At this, Flame naturally clutched harder. Her mother sighed and tried to run her fingers through Flame's tangled hair. “Being a good daughter—you agree that's right?” Flame nodded, not looking up, until she felt her mother's hand gently lift her chin. “Leave the house and find your elder sister. Remember the family. The family first. Ma and Ba love you.” Flame felt a last embrace, then a push and urgent hiss: “Leave!” The sound of wind-chimes filled the air.
Instantly, the stairs filled with the sound of padding steps, and the wooden door was shoved open. A black winged hat, underscored by black brows, swept under the door frame to appear above it. Flame's first impression was that a large crow had entered the room. The wolfish man from downstairs appeared beside him. Though Flame had never seen the first man before, she knew him to be Magistrate Li. His dark eyes danced in the lantern flame as they met hers an instant before her mother's.
“You found her.”
Though the tone was sardonically satisfied, his face was steely. Flame watched half-fascinatedly as Li's trailing moustache and beard both stayed still, as if independent of the man speaking.
“Better I than you.” Though Lady Lian was smaller than Li, who was already very tall, she stood firmly between her daughter and the judge. Flame watched them both fearfully.
“The amends come late, as does the bride."
It seemed as if Magistrate Li had mistaken Flame for her sister.
"She remains unfound." But Li ignored her mother.
"Family Lian has been condemned,” he continued, filling the doorway as he walked closer, robes silent and black wings flapping. Lady Lian remained silent.
“Good, I see you'll not protest charges. Now, under normal circumstances, I suppose you belong with your father and brother, given that Lian's widowed you—” Lady Lian jerked her head in silent disagreement “—but given that you've taken his family name in some act of abnormality, and won't be separated from his family—”
“—our family,” gritted Flame's mother, as her hands shook through her sleeves. Li stepped back a pace, blocking the door, while Flame watched with growing panic as her mother advanced on the tall judge, who struggled to draw his sword in the doorway. A cohort of Li's men were behind him, but unable to enter, blocked by his figure.
“Captain!” cut Li's voice. The man with the bloody boots moved forwards, outstretched hands with grimy nails to suit his bestial looks—but Lady Lian shoved a wooden stool in his shins, aiming for his eyes as he tripped forwards. Her fingers found only air; now the man was moving towards Flame, and she changed direction to throw herself between them.
Li drew his sword.
It was in the newest pattern with horned guard and paw-shaped pommel. The blade, forged from repeatedly hammered steel appeared streaked with waves. Its steel edge was finely honed, and seemed to be directing rivulets of water, flowing in the trembling light of lantern fire.
Flame's mother had her back to her, arms stretched protectively on either side of her daughter. Wrapping the pair from behind were two earthen walls. Outside, the wind chimes continued their urgent cacophony.
“I am a magistrate, not an executioner.”
The lack of expression in his face was anything but threatening; nonetheless, Flame was terrified. The sword was all she saw as the judge advanced, black hat flapping like a crow. That boded ill. Crows were notorious for picking at the dead, her sister had informed her once. Flame had been disgusted with them ever since, even though her sister had immediately added that most of them preferred to eat by stealing.
“Let my daughter go,” Lady Lian spoke, hands shaking sl
ightly.
“You know what lianzuo implies.” Li's face remained impassive, even as his speech sharpened. “The whole Family Lian is condemned for what Prefect Lian has done.”
“He has done nothing. And no just judge has ever interpreted lianzuo to mean the deaths of the women of their family.”
Magistrate Li suddenly scowled. He pointed his blade at Lady Lian.
“Prefect Lian promised the hand of his eldest daughter, the only heir of his land, to my son. He reneged on that promise; even had the audacity to say he 'lost' her—”
“—Lian had no intention of making you lose face—”
“Too late for that!”
The magistrate's words curled into a snarl beneath his blade-sharp nose, and suddenly it seemed as if his nose had become a blade. The sword appeared to fill his face as he brought it forward to stop beneath the chin of Flame's mother.
“I am not one to threaten women with force. But justice calls.”
“Justice?” Flame thought her mother looked incredulous. The word seemed to echo hollowly.
“I have the ledgers,” replied Li sternly. “Every transaction down to mere coppers. And I will have every Lian, down to the youngest member, pay for that!”
He's rambling, and it doesn't make sense, thought Flame as she watched the judge's expression flicker animatedly, though it still looked unnaturally dead. Everything doesn't make sense.
As if to confirm the thought, Flame suddenly felt claustrophobic, as if the corner was squeezing her. Then she realized that it was. Somehow, she'd moved even further into the corner during the conversation. The room had filled with more constables in that time. Lantern smoke hazed the air, obscuring the candle flame, and it appeared as if the dividing screen in the room was trembling. When she looked up, the sword was pointed at her.
Flame could see the tiny rivers in the hardened steel—her death. The fire of the lantern flickered off the sword, and it seemed as if the watery blade was rippling and drowning the lantern flames reflected in it, as the judge turned his wrist. “Lady Hua, daughter Lian, both of you come.” The steel river remained aimed at Flame. Lady Lian's fingers gripped her red robes forcefully, and her voice trembled only slightly. “I am a Lian.”
Li acquiesced with a dip of his head, winged hat flapping. “Lian, then. A suitable name for a family that clings to each other so tightly, sharing death.”
Lady Lian charged the lantern bearer. The red beizi worn for her eldest daughter's wedding tripped her, but she clutched at the lantern pole as she fell. Li grabbed at her arm, as did the hateful wolfish captain, though Lady Lian managed to swing the lantern at the judge's face before crumpling.
Bleeding, Flame knew, as she ran at Li, though she had seen no blade, and no stain on the red robe. But that was because it was red. It was also the only colour she saw as she grabbed at the judge's sword arm, yelling for him to stop. The words didn't seem to leave her mouth properly.
Smoke and flame filled the air as fallen fire consumed both lantern and ledgers. Flame could see blood now—red crimson trickling down her sight, adding its own rivers to those of Li's blade, and a pool staining the floor around her—
“Ma!” Flame collapsed near her mother, tears washing out the entire room. “Go,” chided Lady Lian, patting Flame's hand with affectionate finality. “Remember your family.”
Flame stood up unsteadily. The flapping hat loomed above her.
“You terrible, terrible man!” screamed Flame, with all the articulate fury of her ten years. The magistrate actually looked surprised, breaking his otherwise inhuman appearance, as Flame heaved a burning book at him. It missed, and hit a bed instead.
Flame was empty-handed and helpless. Powerless. The feeling made her want to despair.
Then the covers, the bed itself; followed by the wall trappings all flamed. And Flame saw red. The floor flooded vermilion, the blade's rivers were streaked in fiery red streams; yet there was no water to quench the fire. And the wooden furniture crackled as it blackened. Flame sank to her knees and keeled over.
...can't bury a body in red...who wants to fetch...tradition implies that such improper burial will foster ghosts...
Was she thinking all of this? Flame couldn't distinguish between the voices outside her head and those inside it. She hoped they hadn't been washed out along with her blood. Straw mats stretched out before her. The crimson flames licked them. The room divider screen fluttered, and crows descended, wings flapping madly.
Suddenly she found herself high up, impossibly high, in the ancient tree she'd climbed down from. She was still lying in the same position. Around and below her rose the mist, rendering everything unclear. The treetop crackled and burned with ardent flame as the mist encroached the lower limbs of the tree. Flame could still see her mother, robed in red, and the shocked face of Magistrate Li. It was all his fault, and he will pay.
Wind chimes rang all around her, in mournful pentatonic melody. Crows cawed, dogs barked; wolves howled. And she knew, because she had been powerless to stop Li, that her mother was a ghost.
