Hainan Dao

Book II Chapter 03

HAINAN DAO BOOK II

CHAPTER 03

How quickly does time pass?

At times, it is as a young gazelle, dashing away from the jaws of the hungry lion. At others, it is an elderly gentleman strolling through the park, forgetting where he has come from and where he ought to go, and not caring the least little bit.

Here, on the Island of Hainan, time passed like it has always passed, with its own timing, with its own purpose.

Meanwhile, the Japanese had come and gone.

In three years’ time, they had lost the War and left the Island again. In their wake, were left scars upon the land and the hearts of the people, some never to heal. Many had been hurt. Many more died. But in spite of that, the men and women of Hainan woke after three circles of the seasons, and discovered that though they were far from whole, their spirit was yet unbroken. Though mauled by war, they had emerged the victors. They had survived.

And in some, not only did they survive, but indeed, new life had flourished.

In three years’ time, though they laboured in the day, at all the odd jobs that the enemy had put them to, our two young people had also found time for themselves and each other.

In three years’ time.

Time enough for a thousand hills, on a thousand starry nights. A thousand petals from a thousand flowers held high on mountaintops, and the wind would rush by and spirit them away to the sea. Time enough for quiet evenings spent by the side of a stream, he listening, she teaching him and correcting his grammar. He always hated that part. Their innumerable fights. The sweetness of making up.

And though they never spoke of it, the two of them always knew. There was never a need to talk of it or the future, the days to come, and if you asked them, they would probably just look at you and scratch their heads.

But they knew it. It didn’t need to be said. In their hearts, they just knew it.

With the retreat of the Japanese, the people had gone back to their livelihoods. Shuying had resumed her duties in the teashop, and Yixi his work in the variety store. They continued to meet after work, however, in secret places known only to the two, though it didn’t occur to them to wonder why. It certainly wasn’t for the words of his mother, which had been tossed aside long ago, carelessly forgotten. As carelessly as he usually kept track of time, like this particular evening, when he had spent the entire night speaking with her outside her window, until the sun had finally come up and he left.

He was slipping into the balcony, still humming the lullaby that she had taught him, when a cane zipped out of the shadows and lit up his behind.

“Aiya!” he screamed.

“Where have you been?”

Another whack.

“Ai!”

“You beggar of a son!”

It was Yixi’s grandfather. The Master of the house.

The Master of the house, Lord of the manor tightened his grip on Yixi’s wrist, as he continued to whip the boy with the cane in his other hand.

The yelling rang through the house. Everyone in it woke up.

Yixi’s mother was the first to come flying through the door. “Stop!” She raced over and shielded her son with her body.

“Stay out of this, woman!” cried Grandfather. “I’m teaching the boy a lesson.”

“But, Laoye, please!” (Father-in-law, or Master.)