The voices quieted. Rapidly, the vast, echoing darkness filled in with vivid colors, sounds, and smells once again.
Three figures knelt by two mounds on the hillside. Kneeling here in front of the two mounds that were evidently graves, were two young men and one young woman: Shao Cheng, Li Jun, and Shin Minyeo.
They all bowed twice to give their respects. Each bow was slow and deliberate. Shao Cheng pressed his face into the grass and dirt with each bow, as though he wanted to slowly smash his features into the earth and become a part of it, never having to rise again. His complexion was white as snow. When he lifted his face, his glittering obsidian eyes had a red tinge to them, and they were swollen.
Once they had finished paying their respects, the three of them sat there for some time, gazing at the mounds and out over the hills towards the large stony mountains that were capped with snow in the distance. The mountains towering into the clouds like sturdy guardians carved by heaven, watching impassively from afar, unperturbed by the fire of suffering burning the humans beneath them.
After some time, Shao Cheng shifted. He spoke with a croaking voice that made it clear he’d not spoken for a very, very long time.
“Ah Jun, Minyeo,” he said hoarsely. “I want to be alone. You can go back to the village. I’ll…come back…later.”
Li Jun looked like he wanted to stay, but Shin Minyeo stood swiftly and pulled Li Jun to his feet.
“Come, Jun ah,” she said quietly. To Shao Cheng, she said: “Come back before it gets dark, okay, Cheng ah? I will ask my mother to make dumpling soup for you to have when you get back. We will eat together, so that you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be.”
Shao Cheng didn’t acknowledge hearing her. Shin Minyeo understood that he was already lost in his own thoughts and proceeded to haul Li Jun off back towards the village.
For who knows how long, Shao Cheng sat there hugging his knees and staring blankly at the two mounds of dirt that obscured his parents’ bodies. It had been a day since they had been murdered, and Shin Minyeo’s family along with Li Jun had helped him discreetly bury the bodies a little ways away from the town early today, so that no one would desecrate their graves — at least not for some time.
As the sun began to set over the stony mountains, painting the world pink and scarlet and gold, all the colors of a vibrant fire, two rivers of hot tears streamed down from Shao Cheng’s eyes that were as dark as the deepest part of the night. The rivers turned to waterfalls, creating wet circles on either shoulder of his black burlap clothing. Shao Cheng sat perfectly still, as though he didn’t realize he was crying. The red ribbon in his hair fluttered in the wind, along with his worn black robes.
His mother had sewn him this new clothing last year before the scarlet plague entered the town.
“Ah Cheng is becoming a young man now,” she had said teasingly, pinching his face with a calloused hand. “That old patched burlap is much too small for you. Mama will sew you a new shirt and pants.”
Though they had very little money, she had purchased softer black burlap and even a scarlet belt and ribbon for her son — perhaps out of guilt for not being able to provide him with a safe life. He ran his finger along the scarlet belt now, then raised his hand to wrap the scarlet ribbon around a pale finger. The tears continued to rush down his cheeks, no end in sight.
He was all alone here; there were no greeting pines nearby for any villagers who wanted to kill him to hide behind. Shin Minyeo and Li Jun were gone, too. Alone with his parents, Shao Cheng was able to let down his guard. Choked sounds began to escape from his lips, the sounds a wounded animal might make.
The whimpers turned to sobs, and after some time, the sobs swelled to snot-filled wails.
Shao Cheng fell on his face, burying it in the grass again. The mounds piled atop his parents’ bodies rose on either side of him, and he lay between them like a third living corpse, trembling and howling as his chest ached like a thousand knives had been pressed slowly into it.
“I HATE IT!” he screamed, tearing grass out of the ground violently. “Everything! I hate everything! Fuck you, fuck all of you, fuck everything! I’m fucking glad this plague came! I hope it wipes out every last fucking one of them! Everyone fucking person in Gongkua! They’re all the same! And if it doesn’t…” He gritted his teeth, digging his nails into the earth and tearing out the roots of long grass that grew there, with the ferocity of a wild dog tearing flesh apart. “I’ll fucking kill them myself! I’ll slit their throats, I’ll…”
Shao Cheng proceeded to rattle off a long list of violent and increasingly gruesome ways he would kill any plague-surviving villagers. Or Gongkuans. Or people in general. It wasn’t clear. It seemed he was just raging terms of violence that were baffling and atrocious to hear from a fifteen or sixteen-year-old’s mouth. No—from anyone’s mouth.
As he screamed these techniques of murder, Shao Cheng’s wails slowly decreased in volume. Eventually, he quieted down to the point of just muttering and snapping methods of murder to himself.
Once his voice faded away into silence, Shao Cheng sat up. He wiped his snot and tear-stained face on his shadow-black sleeve. Then he bowed to his parents properly twice more, an odd sight after that explosion of rage.
“Rest peacefully, Mama. Rest peacefully, Baba,” he said, in a chillingly calm voice. “Ah Cheng will avenge you.”
His words pierced into the air like a sharp wind, drifting off into the night. For some time, he sat there between his parents’ graves, gazing off with glittering black eyes into the night landscape of rolling navy-painted hills and twinkling stars above. In those ever-furious obsidian eyes, there was a strange peace. Perhaps it was the vastness of the scenery before him that drew him out of his hatred and the present moment in which he sat between his parents’ dead bodies. For a moment, he was simply a boy, quietly sitting in the night and gazing out over the world, his sufferings like mist in the endlessness of the starry night sky.
In his own world, Shao Cheng did not notice the echoing, muted sound of a royal gong sounding in the distance. He continued to lose himself in the night sky, oblivious and chillingly calm as a royal decree was dictated to the Pianjian village by an messenger from the royal capital of Gongkua, who read the short decree in a bellowing voice in the center of the village, ringing the gong once before he began, and another time once he had finished.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
The messenger’s job completed, he rolled up the royal decree and rode away on his horse to reach the next northern village before dawn, adjusting the layers of masks on his face meant to prevent the spread of disease.
Shao Cheng’s eyes were still absorbed in the sparkling sea of stars above when two pairs of sprinting footsteps approached from behind. Only when the sound of those heavy, rapid footfalls was right behind himself did he snap out of his stupor. He whirled around, remembering numbly where he was.
Running as fast as they could towards him was Li Jun and Shin Minyeo. Li Jun was stumbling under the weight of a bulging cloth sack that was slung over his shoulder, while Shin Minyeo was being trailed by some sort of black shadow that glittered.
No — that wasn’t right. When Shao Cheng squinted in the darkness, he saw that she had some sort of shadowy garment gathered under her arm, and the flowing fabric was fluttering after her like a trail.
By the time Shao Cheng had pushed up to his feet, Li Jun had already reached him with Shin Minyeo not far behind. Li Jun was panting heavily. His warm brown eyes were wide with panic.
Shao Cheng’s blood froze in his veins.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically anxious. “Ah Jun, are you all right? Did something happen? Minyeo eonnie, is your family—did something happen?”
Li Jun and Shin Minyeo gasped, still trying to catch his breath from the practically supernatural speed of sprinting they had kept up all the way from the town. With all of his remaining strength, Li Jun shoved the bulging sack hanging over his shoulder into Shao Cheng’s arms.
“Ra — tions,” he panted, wrapping Shao Cheng’s arms tightly around the bag so it wouldn’t fall. “T-take…Go…You — need…to go…”
Shao Cheng paled. He shoved the bag back towards Li Jun, who refused to take it back, pushing it back towards Shao Cheng in returned.
“What’s going on?” Shao Cheng said in a low voice, eyeing Li Jun sharply and pushing the bag back. “Rations? Hurry up and tell me what the fuck’s going on!”
Shin Minyeo was unaccustomed to running at such a speed, and her health had always been poor, so her body was shaking slightly. Her pale face had a greenish tinge to it, like she might vomit any moment. Still, she mustered up enough strength to help Li Jun shove the sack towards Shao Cheng again. Once Shao Cheng was holding the sack with an extremely alarmed and dark expression, she draped the shadowy cloth she had brought over his shoulders.
“You need…to leave,” she croaked, holding a hand over her mouth to keep herself from vomiting. She heaved a few times, then reached out a pale, delicate-fingered hand to push Shao Cheng back slightly.
“Leave,” she repeated, voice hoarse. “Cheng ah…Now. Leave to the mountains. This isn’t goodbye. We’ll see you soon. It’s…there was…” She panted, choking on her own words.
Shao Cheng’s alarmed gaze turned fierce. With one arm gripping the large sack and the shadowy garment around his shoulders, Shao Cheng reached out and snatched Li Jun by the wrist.
“Li Jun!” he hissed fiercely. “Shin Minyeo! Tell me what’s going on, right now! Why the fuck are you trying to get me to leave?!”
Li Jun had recovered a portion of his breath by now. He struggled to pull his wrist out of Shao Cheng’s grasp, but Shao Cheng’s hand was like a gripping vise.
“Ah Cheng,” Li Jun pleaded, pushing Shao Cheng backward with his free hand. His brown eyes carried a desperate gleam to them that bordered on panic. He seemed to be trying to calm down, having trouble putting one word in front of the other. “Ah Cheng…You need…to leave. A messenger from the king…”
“A messenger? What messenger?!”
“A messenger just delivered…a royal decree to Pianjian. All nonmagical people…are denounced as subjects of…Gongkua…”
Shao Cheng’s dark eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion and disbelief. Li Jun fell into a fit of gasps, so Shin Minyeo continued weakly for him:
“You’ve been…renounced…by the King…in the name of the scarlet plague. The King…he ordered that all nonmagical people are…to be driven out of the villages and cities across the kingdom…to appease heaven and release the curse of the scarlet plague. Royal guards have been…d-dispatched to make sure…this is done.” Shin Minyeo inhaled a deep breath. The color in her face seemed the smallest bit better now. “Cheng ah, you need to leave…now. A large group of infected villagers have banded together to find you and drive you out…even before the guards arrive. This decree…It has given them the motivation to find you and kill you as…soon as possible. If you don’t leave now, they’ll start…searching the hills soon. If they find you here…” Shin Minyeo’s eyes, which had used to so often carry a bright sparkle of playfulness and mischief, watered with held-in tears. “You won’t survive.”
Shao Cheng was speechless. His expression was one of numb shock as he stared at Shin Minyeo, still gripping Li Jun’s wrist with his left hand and the sack of rations with the other.
Shin Minyeo seemed to bite back her tears. A familiar crooked smile spread across her lips. With gentle hands, she pried Shao Cheng’s hand from Li Jun’s wrist and took them in her own, holding them tightly.
Her own eyes that sparkled with tears that refused to fall gazed into his glittering black eyes that were frozen with disbelief.
“Cheng ah,” she said softly, her voice warm. “Don’t worry about us. I’ll make sure Jun ah doesn’t get too close to the scarlet plague anymore, and protect him. These villagers aren’t trying to kill either of us at this point. The mountains are not too far. I will send you with a wind, and then you will reach the mountain with half a day of travel. You can hide in the caves there. If you make a fire, the mountain cats will not harm you. These rations will be enough for two weeks; they don’t spoil. The cloth I gave you is a robe. Do what you want with it; I thought I would have more time to finish it, but you’d better take it now. Jun ah and I will come to visit you within a few days. You only need to leave until this has all ended. We will be together again in peaceful times soon. This is temporary I promise you this. Okay, Cheng ah?”
The tears that shone in her eyes threatened to spill over, but still she held them back, smiling crookedly down at this boy who had almost reached her own height already. The scars and bandages on his face glinted brightly in the moonlight. His large, dark eyes sparkled with jagged stars.
When he opened his mouth at last, only one hoarse word crawled out:
“No.”
Shin Minyeo’s crooked smile faded. Looking into his fierce obsidian eyes, she knew immediately that he wouldn’t leave of his own accord.
It was a good thing Shin Minyeo and Li Jun’s figures were blocking the village from sight. Otherwise, Shao Cheng might have seen the beginnings of a bonfire in the distance, slowly growing to an inferno over his family’s second cottage, which had been deserted for a day now—ever since the murder of his parents. If he had seen that — that triple cruelty, driving in the knife twice and twisting it by burning down the Shao cottage even after the Shao parents had been murdered — he might have broken away from Shin Minyeo’s grasp and sprinted down the hill back towards the village at an unstoppable speed to throw himself into the flames, or slit the necks of everyone present and then carve up their remains until only grains remained.
But thankfully, he did not see it. His eyes remained trained resolutely on Shin Minyeo’s, his mouth trembling slightly.
“No,” he repeated. “You’ve gotta be fucking stupid. I won’t go. Let them kill me. I don’t care. Let them come. I want to see them. I brought a knife with me. I want to kill some of them before I die anyways. Why not now?”
Shin Minyeo’s eyes flickered with a gleam of pain.
“I’m sorry, Cheng ah,” she murmured.
“Sorry for what? It has nothing to do with you, I don’t need your fucking pity! I’ve already decided. Just let go of me, I’m going straight back and then I’m gonna — ”
A gust of wind with the strength of a dragon’s roar howled suddenly through the clearing. It swept Shao Cheng off his feet and high into the air, carrying him northward beneath that sparkling sea of stars.
The wind whipped his long black hair and scarlet ribbon about, tossing his body like the crown of a tree in a storm. His scream of rage and shock was torn from his lips by the air that raced past like a torrential waterfall.
On the hill where his parents’ graves lay, Shin Minyeo and Li Jun became two specks of color, one pale, one blue, both watching him whirl away through the night.