Winged: A Novella (Of Two Girls) by Joyce Chng Page B

man emerged. A couple of them
were lounging around, gossiping and smoking pipe.
     
    His ship was ready. Lee Hsu checked it again
until he was fully satisfied. Smiling to himself, he washed his
face and his hands in the basin provided in his study. The water
was cool on his skin.
     
    ~*~
     
    Lee Hsu always loved watching the crowds
thronging outside his family house. It was evening and the streets
were packed with strollers and vendors. They jostled for space, the
sellers advertising their wares amongst the gaily-dressed couples
and groups out to admire the rising full moon and the brightly lit
lanterns. He inhaled in the diverse aromas of food: the savory tang
of soup dumplings, the freshly steamed buns and even the sweetness
of melted sugar. Somewhere in the crowd was an artist making
fragile animal shapes out of melted sugar or malt. His mouth
watered; he loved this particular sweet confection. There were also
other sweet treats: tanghulu, caramel-coated hawthorn or crabapple
on skewers.
     
    Yuan Xiao was slowly reaching its peak. The
moon had risen and was a large round jade plate in the sky. He
basked in its brightness, hearing more laughter and conversation
coming from his family courtyard. Quickly, he readied his ship
before trooping down the stairs to join his family and relatives
for the dinner banquet.
     
    Once again, the cooks had outdone themselves
with the food. There were consommés, cold dishes artistically
decorated with carved radishes and laden with thinly sliced goose
and other kinds of roast meat. Plates of steamed carp drenched in
soya sauce and liberally covered with shredded spring onions warred
for attention with prawns broiled in white cooking wine. The main
dish – the roast pig- waited in the kitchen, ready to be carried
out by the cooks themselves. It was a grand culinary event, eagerly
awaited by the whole family.
     
    His sisters wore their new silk garments,
mincing along on their tiny feet. They followed his mother who, as
the family matriarch, took center-stage, welcoming the guests
personally. His father emerged from his large study room, dressed
in his finery and mingled around the tables. As the banquet
proceeded, good wine was passed around and salutations were made,
albeit a little drunkenly and with great aplomb. There would be
some sore heads next morning.
    Lee Hsu could hardly keep down his food, no
matter how delicious it was. He washed down the fresh carp meat
with tea and wolfed down the rice cake slices before excusing
himself. He made his way up the stairs alone, not knowing that Old
Liu was watching him intently with intense eyes.
     
    He realized, with a start, that his ship was
heavy. He heaved it into his arms and carried it, as if it was a
little puppy, next to the parapet. The dinner banquet was still in
progress, the new course having been served – fresh river clams
swimming in their own juices. There were sounds of appreciation as
the guests tucked in immediately, sucking at the juices and the
sweet meat.
     
    He waited until the clams were all eaten,
their empty shells opened up like butterfly wings and cluttered on
the tables, before deciding to launch his ship. His heart began to
thump like a drum. He took the matches out and lit one. It sparkled
into life and he fed it into the gunpowder. His ship started to
make crackling sounds – it buckled and appeared as if it was about
to take off.
     
    There was a burst of laughter and applause
from the courtyard: the roast pig, regal on a large palanquin
fashioned out of a rectangular plank, festooned with yellow
chrysanthemum, was finally carried out by the grinning cooks.
     
    It was then the ship decided to give off
really vivid sparks before leaping off the parapet like some live
red fish. Lee Hsu’s heart plunged as his ship plunged, lifted as it
lifted and soared above the astonished guests and family members
who gasped at the amount of dark smoke issued by the strange
contraption flying above their heads. He saw