A Non-Wilting Flower
Josephine Fletch
y name is Huian Li, and my dream is to see the 10,000 Li Long Wall. They say it encompasses the
whole of China. They told us it’s a mountain high and a mountain wide. They tell their tales, about
how it took more than a million workers to build, and ten years to complete. They call it the
longest cemetery in the world, so many workers were buried in its foundation. They told me that
each stone in the wall is taller, longer and wider than my father. And they, are people who have
seen the 10,000 Li Long Wall. They are traders who travel the Silk Road. We are nomads who live on the roof
of the world.
er, Group 3: Fiction, Hong Kong International School
M
Ye Ye, my grandfather on my father’s side, used to go down into Inner China for supplies and luxuries,
and he told me they live in bamboo houses. He also told me they grow plants, and confirmed all my other
curiosities about Inner China, other than those about the wall. He hadn’t seen it. When I was younger Ye Ye
brought back a shiny, yellow flower for my mother. It was one of the happiest days for her, and us too, since
my Wai Po, my mother’s mother, died. For us, the flower symbolized happiness.
The flower wilted three days later.
I am leaving my family to find a flower that will never wilt. I got up before dawn, checking through my
pack one last time, making sure everything was ready. In my pack is a canteen of water, dry yak meat, my
bedroll and a change of clothes.
I know I have to leave. I’ve had a sign. A trader came last night, and stayed the night. He’ll leave in the
late morning - with one thing he didn’t bring with him. Me.
The rest of my family gathered outside to see the trader off. They probably won’t notice I’m gone until
tonight. By then it will be too late to catch up to me, for the trader has a horse and cart, and yaks are slow.
I had considered asking my cousin, Bao Xing, to come with me, but decided against it. I just knew I
had to do this alone.
So while my family said goodbye, I snuck around the back of the tents to the trader’s horse and cart.
Every step I took away from my family felt like torture, as though my heart was tied by a string to them. With
every step my heart wrenched. Suddenly I didn’t know if I could do it.
Just then, I heard footsteps and laughter. I dove under the canvas covering on the cart. Soon, I heard the
crack of a whip, and the cart began to roll forward over the stony ground.
It is the fourth day of my quest to find a flower. The first day I spent an uncomfortable time huddled
under the canvas, stowed alongside Indian spices. Until dinner time, when I snuck out and surprised the trader.
“
Hello.”
“
Who-” then he recognized me. “You’re the girl from the yak people!” he shouted.
I was hurt that he thought of us like that, but since I was the one in the wrong, I did not argue.
‘
Yes.’
“
Are you running away? If so, you just added two days onto my journey!” he is annoyed.
“
Please don’t take me back! I need to get to Inner China! Look!” I show him my pack of food. “See! I
have enough food for myself! Just please let me come with you!”
“
Well. You are running away. I can see why. If I were you, I’d have run away ages ago. As long as you
don’t eat any of my food, you can come.” I didn’t understand much of what he said, but I nodded anyway.
The second day was better. I sat on top of the cart, and sometimes walked beside it. At lunch I had a
snack of dry meat, and at dinner the trader relented and gave me some of his hot food.
After that, a pattern emerged, the same as the second day. We would wake at dawn, eat a cold meal,
then head out. At lunchtime we would stop and let the horse graze while we had another cold meal, this one
more meagre than the last. We would travel on again, walking beside the cart. At night we could have a hot
meal, which the trader (whose name I learned was Ming Cai) would share with me. If we came across any other
travellers, I hid under the canvas.
Many days later the land started to slope downwards. The air began to grow warmer, and soon I was
fanning myself with my hands, and holding my hair off my sweaty neck. Then the barren rock and tufts of grass
turned to sand and grit, and we were in the desert. It was unbearably hot. When we arrived at an oasis I was glad
of the cool water and small patch of shade. Because of the sweltering heat, I decided to use a knife to cut my
long hair, using the reflection the still water provided. I felt as if I was shedding the last part of the ‘old me.’