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world roams wild beyond the drooping willow trees that mark the perimeter of the village, where countless mountains, rivers, and lakes lie in wait, where towns have names waiting to be pronounced. His uncle calls out, Are you studying? The would-be warrior answers, Yes, a very coiled yes, because he is absorbed in his dragon stance, both hands curled white around the very wooden sword he has stolen from the local blacksmith, but this is of no consequence because the blacksmith is not an idiot, and has allowed the theft on one condition: Promise me you will do your best with it. Whatever you do, you must commit yourself to it. If you are a nose-picker, then be the best nose-picker far and wide. 
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Downstairs, Uncle pours hot but not quite boiling water into a porcelain pot, filling it, all the way up to the tiny strainer where the crushed leaves fan out like scorched flowers. A few minutes like this, then the accumulated tea will be discarded, for the full flavor of the leaves only emerges once they have had a chance to mature in that snug little crucible, luxuriate in that initial flow of water. This ritual is meant to open one's mind to restful meditation, but all Uncle can think of is this rambunctious, orphaned child in his care, those high hopes for academic and economic advancement. It would all have been perfect. He had already composed boastful letters to friends in his mind: He gained the second rank in the state exams . he has been bestowed with his very own land . his name is known throughout the province . Accolades  |
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