PRINCESS LE-ANNE

CAPITAL BRIDGE

Memories are a funny thing. We cannot touch them, yet they are held in our heart; they cannot be seen, yet our minds behold them.

It was only a couple of years before, not so long ago when Le-anne laughed in her beloved's arms. Not much time had pa.s.sed since meeting one another yet it felt like they had known each other for eternity.

"One… two… three." Le-anne selectively dropped the collected stones in her hand into each lined up cup. "One… two… three." She pushed back the lock of hair that was bugging her face.

"One… two… I win!" she screamed and abruptly jumped into the air in immense celebration. "I win! I win and sword-master, you have lost," she squealed loudly and happily threw herself on him.

"Impossible. No!" her beloved refused.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she guffawed and loosened her body over him in elation. He set on the mattress of the room she had pulled him to when he had been deeply injured, a few weeks ago. The room was a deserted thatched hut that her and Spring used to escape to when they came up the mountains. It was a dark room with cascaded wine clay pots and few merchandise that one could use to survive off from. That was what Spring had stored for them in preparation for the escapades they would have in future, which never happened.

"Ah!..." he winced as he huddled over her.

Oh no.

In her excitement she had forgotten that he was her patient who was still in the process of recovering from his wound.

"Duì bù qǐ[sorry]," she quickly backed away from him and bent herself to examine if she had tore open his wound. "Duì bù qǐ," she remorsefully repeated herself.

His hands playfully brushed hers which were examining his wound, an act she was getting accustomed to whenever she neared him. He enjoyed to maintain contact with her. Quickly, she put back the herbs and the bandaging material back in place, her face reddening.

He tilted his head. "How do you know how to speak the Nevorian language so well?" The so mesmerizing eyes she could not hold a staring compet.i.tion with scrutinized her. "Is our lotus flower not from Furia?"

She blushed at one of the nicknames that he loved to use on her.

"I'm not from Furia," she shook her head. "Just because I have big eyes and ears does not mean that I am of that descent."

"But―"

"Father tells me that as I mature, my features will become like any other person's."

"But so do Furian people's features develop that way into adulthood," he rightly opposed her.

"I am not from Furia!" she whined and started to punch him to which he faked to feel pain.

"How could niangzi[wife] be so shameless to hit liangzi[husband]?" He then swiftly pulled her to him and balled her over into his arms to tickle her. Le-anne's sensitive torso reacted acutely to his prodding by her breaking into loud guffaws.

"Stop," she bizarrely laughed, feeling out of breath. "Stop.. stop… please." She insanely cackled, unable to control herself. "Sword-master stop!"

Sword-Master was what she called him because of how great he had been with the sword when saving her.

"Don't call me that or my sword-master will not be so happy." He placed her down. "I am still a student."

"Then why are you here and not with sen-shang[1]?"

He shrugged. "Sen-shang cannot be controlled by zhen."

She frowned. Zhen was a term only used by the emperor to refer to himself. Had she heard wrong?

"He comes and goes as he pleases for he likes being a wanderer of the world," he continued.

Indeed, maybe she had heard wrong. An emperor would not have a sword instructor who was half committed as that would be disrespectful.

"Do you think he would like me?" she wondered out loud.

Would his people accept her?

He chuckled. "He is not the one you should worry about for there are more important people you should worry to impress."

"Hmm?" She tried to understand. "Your mother?"

"Mothers," he corrected.

"How is it possible to have multiple mothers?" she asked innocently.

"Because I am Huizhong."

Her eyes enlarged, ears coating red. Huizhong was the man she was to marry for Huticah; the man she hated most.

"The emperor? Please do not joke like that," she abhorred his manner of speaking so loosely. "I dislike that man." She would not hide her detest for him. He was the main reason why her life was everything she did not want it to be.

A flash of hurt and deep pain crossed his face but disappeared as fast as it appeared. Maybe she should choose her words wisely when talking about his emperor.

"Why does Lotus Flower hate the emperor?" He gave an impression of being nervous as he ran his hand through his hair, and it stuck in clumps, the path his fingers took still visible right to the scalp. His was the longest hair that she considered unruly and unmanageable but with such skill and prose did he handle it.

She withdrew from him, feeling upset about having to talk about the emperor. She was not sure whether she should tell him about her complicated situation. He would not agree to marry her and probably desert her afterwards.

"Nothing. I do not like men like him so do not aspire to be like him… in fact do not call yourself zhen." She searched his eyes, the fiery globes she enjoyed glaring at were now miles away from her, distanced by the misunderstanding between them.

"Be you. I like you." She ran her hand down his soft cheek then roughed up his sideburns that were a beautiful lawn of hair.

He did not soften up as he normally did to her advances. With his cold visage on, it was like she was talking to a statue.

Maybe changing the topic would be appropriate.

"So... tell me your real name," she pleaded on her cause.

He sighed and leaned his back on the wall.

"Please?" she gave him the pleading eyes.

"What a vixen," he teased her over how she was using his soft spots to get him to speak up.

"I will tell you mine if you tell me yours," she swore by drawing a cross across her chest by her fingertips.

"Lu… Luo Meng."

"Luo Meng?" She tried the name. "Meng because you are a fierce fighter on the battlefield?"

He laughed at the cute idea that she had of him. When he laughed it was refres.h.i.+ng like a newly sprung leak; low at first, then louder as he stopped and started. She could tell he was not done yet by the way he bit his lips.

She wished she could see all his features clearly, if not for her poor eyesight. Curses to Mistress Kei.

"Maybe," he grinned. "And what about you Lavender? What is your name?"

"What do you think?" she challenged. "Guess."

"Lotus flower?"

"Of course not," she shrugged.

"Big eyes?"

"Do you wish such an ugly name for me?" she pounced herself on him, which he enjoyed by gladly receiving her small body. "I told you I do not like that nickname."

"Your eyes are... beguiling." He looked down at her intensely as she rested on his chest. It was looking into his eyes that she loved the most for there, their connection lay. The eyes are windows to the soul, don't they say?

Her breathing became softer, her scowl melting away into a smile that was like the morning light.

"Elora." she finally told him, lost in the moment.

"Elora is the name for a queen, my queen." He pulled the strand of hair she had earlier pushed away and played with it. "More reason why I think you are from Furia, their queen is Queen Elora."

She rolled her eyes to this and slid herself up so she could seat in front of him. His huge hand tried to pull her back into his arms but she stubbornly jostled him off. Being next to him made it difficult for her to think straight for his presence was domineering.

He unhappily let her seat opposite him. "I'm glad that you are not from Huticah."

She sharply glowered at him. "Why is that?"

"Zhen does not like Huticah much―"

"Zhen?"

"I mean…"

She was getting irritated with his sincere aspirations to be someone like the emperor. Why did he hold such respect for the emperor? She would not survive to marry a man who had deep desires to be like the man she so despised the most.

"You can't force me to be who I am not Elora."

"But you are not the emperor." She found herself snapping. Did he suffer from any mental problems?

"How so?"

"Because the emperor does not possess a heart." She felt his silent heartbeat when nursing him. "Do you want to be the emperor and be that way too?"

"That is exclusive information," he was surprised by her words, it seemed. "How do you know this?"

She froze like one caught with her hand in the jar, stealing. This was information any normal person would not know. How could she get away from that without telling him about her status and mission?

"Who does not know that the lineage of the royal family has always held tradition of ripping their Dragons' hearts?"

The heart would then be stored in a chest to be submerged in blood so as to have the emperor live longer. Nevorians were oppressors; they fed their greed and lived longer through the Furian n.o.blemen's blood.

And there Le-anne realized that from the beginning her and her beloved were much divided by descent, lies, secrets and anonymity. It was never going to work.

Because there she was, standing on an empty bridge.

Alone.

She looked up at the sky, and her heart sank. It was now the hour of the tiger.[2]

But again, what was she thinking? Did she think he would pitch up and maybe she could experience what her heart had longed for once? She looked down at the box she held so dearly. She would give it to Mistress Han so it could be disposed.

Surprisingly, the pain she felt was not as much as she expected she would feel. She had been disappointed by people for so many times that now it was bound to not be so painful. He was not the first one to reject her, leave her abandoned or desert her either.

"I don't care either," she screamed to the darkness of the night and hoped that the river would take her agony along with it.

"You can all leave me and I will still be fine alone!" she shouted bitterly, stirring Ai awake, who had dozed off to sleep crouched up into a ball while resting upon the bridge rails.

Le-anne screamed even louder, punched the rails and threw the box onto the floor.

"Stupid box." She started stomping on it then angrily kicked it into the air.

***

From a small distance, the old woman she had earlier blessed with a pouch of money shook her head in pity and stuffed the fresh crust of bread―she had bought for herself earlier―into her mouth.

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TRANSLATIONS

[1]Sen-shang- teacher or one who comes before the other.

[2]Hour of the Tiger- Between 3.00am to 5.00am

S.V