Barefoot and dressed in an earth-toned robe, Miaoshan climbed the steep hills at the break of dawn, balancing a yoke on her shoulder with two wooden pails swinging on each end. The monks had sent her to fetch water. From a distance, she saw billowing clouds of smoke plume from the mountaintops. Pain twisted in her heart as they reminded her of the mosaic of soldiers falling on the battlefield.
Shaking away the violent images she heard a fish cry as it flopped on the parched earth.
“How did you get here?” she asked.
“The King ordered to capture hundreds of fish from the Eastern Sea to hold a big feast. I slipped away from the fisherman’s net but could not return home.”
The pang in her heart returned at the mention of the King.
“If you can help me find water, I will be able to return to my original form,” the fish said.
Miaoshan nestled the fish into the pouch slung across her chest and continued the trek. Despite the blisters blooming on her weary feet, she pressed on, each step a testament to humility in the face of discomfort.
Trudging along the path, she saw a sparrow marred with a broken wing under her beloved willow tree. Its slender branches grazed the ground as they bent into a round canopy.
“The palace’s smoke blurred my vision, so I tumbled,” the sparrow lamented.
Miaoshan ripped off a piece of her robe to wrap the injured wing. She offered the sparrow the last of her breadcrumbs and returned it to its nest in the willow tree’s boughs.
“Why do you sacrifice your clothes and food?” The fish poked its head out, curious about the sparrow’s fate.
“The monks assigned me many chores, having me stay up late to scrub floors, tend the garden, sew clothes, and prepare meals. The forest animals helped me through.”
The fish kissed her hand. Miaoshan wrestled with the secret that she had come from the palace.
When she reached the top of the hill, a tiger emerged; its soiled orange fur hung off its skeletal body.
“I haven’t eaten for days, the hunters from the palace captured all the game,” it growled. “Let me eat the fish you have in your pouch.”
Her heart weighed heavy with sorrow for the anguish the palace had wrought.
“Its life should belong to the one who saved it, not the one who wishes to take it. If you must eat, I offer myself to you, but on the condition that I first return the fish to water.”
The tiger bared its teeth and eyed Miaoshan with hunger.
“How will I know you will keep your promise?”
“If it will ease your suffering, I can give you a part of me first.”
The fish flapped its tail, protesting on her behalf. The tiger circled her, considering her words. Then, in a swift motion, its jaws tore an arm from her body. Pain seared through her breasts, and her heart pulsed with an even greater intensity.
With each faltering step, blood seeped from her wound, soaking her robe crimson red. Her body weakened, but she continued forward clutching the fish near her chest.
“Why do you still help me despite harming yourself?”
Miaoshan couldn’t hide the truth any longer.
“I must atone for my father’s mistakes. He had created too much suffering in the world.”
Anguish pierced her heart as memories flooded back of the final confrontation she had with her father; a heated exchange sparked by his insistence on an arranged marriage with a wealthy lord. She declared that she would consent to marriage only if he could ease all the suffering in the world – a demand which was impossible for him to fulfill.
“He was the reason I became a nun. He is the King.”
A teardrop rolled down her cheek and landed on the fish. A soft glow enveloped the fish, which reignited a sliver of hope within her soul.
“You are not your father. I only have enough magic to stop the bleeding.”
At the top of the hill, Miaoshan released the fish into the well, and she witnessed a breathtaking transformation. The fish’s form elongated, shedding its guise, and emerged as a majestic dragon with shimmering scales cascading down its serpentine body.
“Thank you. I’ll come when you need.”
She suspended her breath as the dragon flew away, leaving her with a gleaming scale in her hand. After filling the pails with water, she balanced the yoke on the good shoulder and journeyed back.
A heavy cloak of smoke drifted toward her, and she wasn’t sure whether she was choking from dread or the smoke. She raced back to her temple to find fire licking and curling its claws as it rampaged through the forest’s foliage. Animals dashed for cover from the fire’s ravenous fervor. The once vibrant veins of the forest that used to teem with life, now lay shriveled beneath her feet. She kneeled on the ground next to the fallen trunk of the willow tree, its branches scorched and blackened. The frayed sparrow’s nest lay mutilated beside her.
Amidst the ashes, a glint caught her eye — a badge adorned with a dragon’s crest, a chilling realization that her father’s men had come.
Tears streaked down her face, as she prayed, clasping the dragon scale between her hands. The tiger pounced through the smoke; it had come to collect its debt.
***
“I appoint you Guanyin, the Goddess of Mercy, for your sacrifice.” The dragon declared against the sound of waves.
Miaoshan awoke to her restored arm holding a jade vase containing a willow branch. Draped in a diaphanous white robe, she floated up to the clouds on a lotus flower. Her heart swelled as she scattered rain from the branch. She had put out one fire; now she searched for others in need. Her heart tugged one last time at the memory of her father.
Wanying Zhang is a Chinese-Canadian writer of speculative fiction based in Montreal. Since she was young, she has dabbled in mixing potions and writing stories fusing elements of Asian and European fairy tales, folklore, and science fantasy. She is a recent winner of the 61st issue of Flame Tree Fiction Newsletter for a flash fiction titled “Feathers of Eternity.” Her work has been published in Every Day Fiction and Literally Stories. Currently a college professor with too many degrees, she sprinkles the magic of chemistry for future generations.
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