Fiction: Group 3
She had grown into quite a handsome young woman, with a slight
figure, a jetty mass of ringlets, and a cherry mouth. She was soon to be married off and relocated. She was
morose and often wept, she took frequent strolls and her attention was riveted on her memory of the delta.
She felt estranged and distant from the scenery, but nonetheless took an acute pleasure in looking at her
cradle.
“Ma! I’m going to the river!” She cried, knowing very well there’d
be no answer.
Da Jie
did not hold her well being in regard, and mother reposed in her room, praying for
providence to sustain her longer.
She embarked again on the path to the heath, which was the
treasure cove of all her fondest memories. She felt akin to it and took refuge in it whenever worries plagued
her mind. She speculated again at the poignant poison she felt in the ambiance, how different it was from
the sweet fragrance of nonage! She trekked on for a quarter of an hour until she saw her sanctuary, delicately
decorated in flowers she had learnt to name over the years. As she approached the hollow, she gasped.
He saw spots dance in a balletic routine, the grains of color caressed
the rim of his eyes. He blinked at the decadence of all around him, a bloom that was no more perennial than
he was, an isolated hollow in a most singular location, and a girl, not at all well apparelled, lapsed into deep
reverie. She looked as if she had found tranquillity after antecedent consternation. There was something
penetrating in her eye, as if it could pierce through his derangement and find acumen. He felt strangely
sentient to the recesses of his self, and for once didn’t from mental disquiet.
“Who are you?” He said with a strained air of serenity. He heard a
quaint laugh in return. What a fresh, musical laugh! It reminded him of the continuity of water flow. There
was no plethora of inanity as expected of a child with such beauty in her possession.
“I am the child of the Pearl River, the fruition of its raw viridity and the griever of its corrosion.” Her
gentle voice was quite remarkable; it was tainted with a protruding accent, a blend of the Canton dialect and
a childlike drawl. She spoke eloquently, but with a strange absence of equanimity.
“And I am the slave of my own fervour, a mere observer in my own head, a spirit marooned on an isle of
the past, constantly reminded of my lost Elysium.” A silhouette of apprehension crossed her delicate features.
He was startled by her astute perception, as she seemed to him uneducated.
“You are young but seasoned. A curious concoction in human nature indeed! Enlighten me with your tale.
I have not seen the world, and have only been nourished by the sun, never scorched by it.” She seemed to
him a pure sunbeam, and spoke with such exquisite wonder in her eyes.
“Ah, one with such untarnished innocence as you should not have to hear the story of a man like me, but
come what may, I will tell it. I am an only child, born in Huizhou, near the West Lake. My parents were
not wealthy, but they loved me. I grew up like a normal child, with materialistic desires and whatnot. Then
my mother vanished. Later I understood that she had taken part in some movement that deeply undermined
our core beliefs. I was only a boy, and couldn’t comprehend anything other than that the greater beings
have taken the one dearest to me from me. I was possessed by grief and my father by drink, it was only
afterwards did I perceive that I had lost not one but both of my parents. I spent the rest of my boyhood
under the auspices of my aunt and uncle; I owe a debt to their zealous charity, without a doubt. But they
have never showed me spontaneous, genuine compassion. Perhaps it was because I was vengeful and
procured a lust for the murder of the deities who bore the fault of denying me love. I was dancing on the
edge of hysteria, my friends shunned me, and psychologists could only prescribe numbing pills to ease my
agony. No therapy could heal my sense of loss, no food could fill the gaping hole in my soul.” His
monotonous tone cracked with anguish. He longed to retain this novel, piquant friendship, but his past
chained his feelings. He was horribly afraid of love, he was afraid of being affectionate of ephemeral beings.
Instead he diverted his inclinations to nature, but that came with a toll. He became attached to the Pearl
River Delta, his passion dictated his behavior, and he was more of a lunatic than he was as a bloodthirsty
youth.
“Where is this place then?” She said in a tender but melancholic voice. He was shocked by her sudden
change of subject, and pained by her blatantly exposed emotions, but nonetheless answered,
“It is near Huizhou. It’s an undeveloped rural area in the eastern part of the Pearl River Delta. There is great
significance in this cardinal direction. It is said that the east was a place where God intervened on behalf of
His people, bringing them salvation. The sun rises in the east, bringing new beginnings, and locking the
treacherous past into memory.”
