Winged: A Novella (Of Two Girls) (12 page)

Lee Hsu frowned. Perhaps he had to make do
with the current batch of gunpowder. It was enough for a brief
flight. Ah, his ship. Fashioned after a Chinese junk, about twice
the length of his arm (which was quite small, because he was still
a growing boy), lovingly and painstakingly lacquered vermilion red.
He added in the tiny sails as well, for the sake of authenticity.
But the pride of the project would be in the eventual lift-off and
flight.

He could hear sporadic laughter as the
guests had awakened and were dining on freshly made soup dumplings
and fragrant Pu Er tea. His family was generous when it came to
food. When the hairy crabs were in season, the family and invited
guests would be treated to platters of steamed crustaceans rich in
milt and rose, topped off with a sweet ginger tea brew to mitigate
the effects of excess ‘heat’.

He tinkered a little more on his ship and
realized, in his heart, that he was a privileged boy, born into a
wealthy family.
An aristocratic family
, a voice reminded him
firmly. His family had provided generations of court officials. His
father was currently a senior magistrate and had hoped that his
only son would follow his footsteps.

But Lee Hsu had resisted that path from day
one. He
wanted
more. He had heard so much about the lands
beyond the Middle Kingdom. He had heard about the Enlightenment and
how it was so powerful. Barbarians or not, he wanted to visit those
lands of the Enlightenment and see for himself how great they were.
There were many scientists and engineers, people who worked with
their minds and their hands to come up with new designs. The Middle
Kingdom had many great and influential thinkers. But surely, the
barbarians had their own gifted men and women too. Even at the
tender age of nine, he wanted to interact, to exchange ideas. It
was a special dream of his but kept secretly inside his heart.

Lee Hsu went back to his ship, feeling its
shape under his hands. It was ready to fly.

~*~

Yuan Xiao arrived with the explosion of
firecrackers peppering the courtyard and turning the ground red
with pieces of red paper. The smell of burning gunpowder filled the
air, at once sharp and acrid. The thick smoke hung around for a
while, before being dispersed by a light breeze. It was also
chilly; even the servants were wearing a few layers of clothing to
keep themselves warm.

Lee Hsu had to wear yet another set of new
clothes and he grumbled while his nanny, an middle-aged woman with
a cheerful disposition, combed his hair (an act he found deeply
embarrassing – he could do it himself) and braided it deftly. This
time, it was a blue brocade top with a well-made pair of pants,
lined with wool to provide warmth. His nanny adored him, more than
his real mother who was by now playing her precious mahjong and
nagging at his sisters. They would of course be dressed in
beautiful silk garments. His mother minced when she walked. She had
bound feet and her shoes were tiny and exquisitely made. His
sisters were made to go through the pain when they were little
girls. They couldn’t run and jump like the other girls he had seen
outside his family home.

As it was an important family gathering, Lee
Hsu had to greet the guests together with his family. The
salutations were all done in a staid and polite manner, perfectly
detached and even dispassionate. The guests were mostly relatives
from both sides of the family and there were many familial terms
used as signs of respect. By the time he reached Thirteenth
Maternal Aunt, Lee Hsu had become so bored he had to control his
urge not to run out of the room and back to his ship.

Then it was the lunch banquet, served early
so that dinner would be a punctual affair. Lee Hsu slipped away
after the second course had been served, thankful that in the
general cacophony of chatter, nobody noticed him leaving the table.
He sneaked back into his study and admired his ship. He had not
given a name to the ship yet, though he was half inclined to call
it “Lee’s Ship”.

Someone coughed at the door and Lee Hsu
started, seeing the familiar silhouette of Old Liu. He swallowed,
preparing himself for a tongue-lashing.

Old Liu was holding a bowl of noodles in his
gnarled hands. From the smell and look of it, it was still piping
hot and fragrant with sesame oil and shallots.

“You need to eat, young master,” Old Liu
said and handed him the bowl (still warm) and a pair of ivory
chopsticks. “I noticed you leaving the table.”

Lee Hsu accepted the bowl of noodles mutely
and nodded. Old Liu normally left him alone to his own devices and
did not say anything about his countless projects. With a small
smile and a nod, Old Liu bowed and walked down the corridor to help
out with the festivities. The boy watched him leave, suddenly
feeling a pang of regret.

He finished the noodles, savoring the
smoothness of the buckwheat strands. The cooks made them by hand
and they were exquisite fresh. He placed the empty bowl and oily
chopsticks on the floor, sighed to himself and went back to put the
finishing touches on the ship. As he worked quietly and diligently,
he could hear Chinese traditional opera – his family had invited a
well-known troupe to perform. It was
Butterfly Lovers
,
probably his mother’s choice.

With steady hands, Lee Hsu poured the
gunpowder in using an impromptu ‘funnel’, a cone shaped out of
paper. He had the matches ready. His project was going to take
flight later in the evening. He patted his ship, feeling proud of
himself. He wanted so much to be one of the illustrious great
thinkers.

Lee Hsu straightened and drew himself to his
full height. From where he was standing, he could see out into the
courtyard, being on the second floor of his family house. He would
be launching his ship from this particular angle. He crept to the
parapet and peered out. The servants were clearing the dishes and
cleaning the tables for the banquet later in the evening. Most of
his relatives had retired into their chambers to rest and prepare
themselves for more festivities. The Chinese opera singers had
already finished their act and were removing their make-up. As he
watched, the hua dan – the young maiden – was removing the vivid
pink from her cheeks – and a young man emerged. A couple of them
were lounging around, gossiping and smoking pipe.

His ship was ready. Lee Hsu checked it again
until he was fully satisfied. Smiling to himself, he washed his
face and his hands in the basin provided in his study. The water
was cool on his skin.

~*~

Lee Hsu always loved watching the crowds
thronging outside his family house. It was evening and the streets
were packed with strollers and vendors. They jostled for space, the
sellers advertising their wares amongst the gaily-dressed couples
and groups out to admire the rising full moon and the brightly lit
lanterns. He inhaled in the diverse aromas of food: the savory tang
of soup dumplings, the freshly steamed buns and even the sweetness
of melted sugar. Somewhere in the crowd was an artist making
fragile animal shapes out of melted sugar or malt. His mouth
watered; he loved this particular sweet confection. There were also
other sweet treats: tanghulu, caramel-coated hawthorn or crabapple
on skewers.

Yuan Xiao was slowly reaching its peak. The
moon had risen and was a large round jade plate in the sky. He
basked in its brightness, hearing more laughter and conversation
coming from his family courtyard. Quickly, he readied his ship
before trooping down the stairs to join his family and relatives
for the dinner banquet.

Once again, the cooks had outdone themselves
with the food. There were consommés, cold dishes artistically
decorated with carved radishes and laden with thinly sliced goose
and other kinds of roast meat. Plates of steamed carp drenched in
soya sauce and liberally covered with shredded spring onions warred
for attention with prawns broiled in white cooking wine. The main
dish – the roast pig- waited in the kitchen, ready to be carried
out by the cooks themselves. It was a grand culinary event, eagerly
awaited by the whole family.

His sisters wore their new silk garments,
mincing along on their tiny feet. They followed his mother who, as
the family matriarch, took center-stage, welcoming the guests
personally. His father emerged from his large study room, dressed
in his finery and mingled around the tables. As the banquet
proceeded, good wine was passed around and salutations were made,
albeit a little drunkenly and with great aplomb. There would be
some sore heads next morning.

Lee Hsu could hardly keep down his food, no
matter how delicious it was. He washed down the fresh carp meat
with tea and wolfed down the rice cake slices before excusing
himself. He made his way up the stairs alone, not knowing that Old
Liu was watching him intently with intense eyes.

He realized, with a start, that his ship was
heavy. He heaved it into his arms and carried it, as if it was a
little puppy, next to the parapet. The dinner banquet was still in
progress, the new course having been served – fresh river clams
swimming in their own juices. There were sounds of appreciation as
the guests tucked in immediately, sucking at the juices and the
sweet meat.

He waited until the clams were all eaten,
their empty shells opened up like butterfly wings and cluttered on
the tables, before deciding to launch his ship. His heart began to
thump like a drum. He took the matches out and lit one. It sparkled
into life and he fed it into the gunpowder. His ship started to
make crackling sounds – it buckled and appeared as if it was about
to take off.

There was a burst of laughter and applause
from the courtyard: the roast pig, regal on a large palanquin
fashioned out of a rectangular plank, festooned with yellow
chrysanthemum, was finally carried out by the grinning cooks.

It was then the ship decided to give off
really vivid sparks before leaping off the parapet like some live
red fish. Lee Hsu’s heart plunged as his ship plunged, lifted as it
lifted and soared above the astonished guests and family members
who gasped at the amount of dark smoke issued by the strange
contraption flying above their heads. He saw his sisters fanning
the smoke away with their silk handkerchiefs frantically. His
mother looked as if she was about to faint and rightly so. And his
father was furious, his face turning as black as the smoke
itself.

The ship exploded in mid-air.

It was a frightful sound, as loud as a
cannon going off, perhaps even louder. Soot and gunpowder cascaded
down and coated everyone with it. As everybody watched, stunned and
petrified, the halved body of the ship fell and crashed into the
roast pig which in turn went up in smoke as well.

The shocked silence erupted into shouting.
Old Liu came charging at him, his crinkled face covered with the
black soot and terrible as Kuan Kong himself. The retainer grabbed
him roughly by the arms and Lee Hsu started crying because of the
harsh treatment and the shock. Old Liu shouted and screamed at him,
dragging him down the stairs where his father waited, his visage as
frightening as the god of hell himself.

“Idiot!” His father roared and yanked Lee
Hsu by his ear. The pain worsened and the boy cried even louder.
His ship had failed. He had failed. And now, his family was
disgraced, because of him. “Imbecile!”

In front of the assembled guests, still
coated with black soot, and a ruined roast pig, the magistrate
dragged Lee Hsu into his study room where he gave his son a sound
beating with a willow stick.

~*~

The sting smarted and lingered. Lee Hsu
sniffed and rubbed his tender nose swollen from the sobbing. He sat
gingerly in his study, thankful of the relative darkness. He was
hungry; his father had refused to give him dinner. Before him was
the design of his ship and he touched it, for some reassurance.

Outside, he knew, life went on. The servants
were tittering away while they removed the tables and scrubbed the
courtyard of any traces of food and black soot. After a few days,
the soot would be gone and his exploding ship would just be a
memory. The rest of his relatives, after recovering from their
shock and cleaning themselves, went off to enjoy the fireworks, the
lanterns and to gaze at the moon. His father was fuming, his mother
despondent. His sisters simply shook their heads at him; they were
much older than him and he was a little child in their eyes.

A familiar cough, a scrape of shoes before
the footsteps faded away. Lee Hsu winced as he got up from the
floor. The willow stick had done its job well. He opened the door,
only to find a bowl of dessert – gingko nuts and two tiny
hardboiled quail eggs in a clear syrup.

For a moment, he stood, staring at the bowl.
Old Liu
. He stooped down and retrieved the bowl. The dessert
was sweet, the soft gingko nuts and eggs a welcome respite to a
hungry stomach.

Yet, for all the pleasure in eating, he grew
bitter and angry. He wanted to yell and kick things. Most of all,
he wanted to leave his family home and go elsewhere. His father
won’t understand, nor his genteel mother. His sisters? They were
more concerned with their embroidery and the newest trends in
clothes. He suddenly felt alone and lonely.

Fresh hot tears brimmed in his eyes. He
wiped them away, annoyed at their appearance. His heart burned in
his chest. Once he reached sixteen, he would leave.