invaders from the north. However, I shamefully chose not to answer the Emperor’s call to arms and here I stand
with my own son being called” he said. Wiping his tears with his sleeve he said; “Come on Ming now lets go
down stairs and have something special to eat, something to remember; chicken, cake, cookies you name it!”
Even dumplings?” I pleaded. “Even dumplings” he retorted.
The two of us made our way to the kitchen and started cooking. Xu suddenly interrupted “Can I help too?”
Why not? Of course you can. Now put an apron on” said Father almost silently. Xu’s face was instantly
filled with delight and joyfully grabbed an apron putting it on and joining us cooking. Within an hour the
masterpiece was ready. The three men of the family sat at the table.
Can I start?” Xu cheekily asked
Sure! Well what are you waiting for? Knock yourself out” chortled Father and for once the entire family,
save one, was scoffing dumplings. Food kept coming; there were jokes, excitement and laughter until midnight
when the merriment came to a halt. The night was magical.
The two of them quickly fell asleep whilst I lay restlessly wondering what Xu would be like when I came
home from war. Would he finally change into a wise, hardworking developed man able to manage the farm?
Would Father still be alive? Would the farm be in the same condition as I had left it? Or indeed would I ever
return home?
I woke up to realize that I had slept through the cockerel’s crow. Father was making breakfast for the
family and I found Xu stumbling down the stairs carrying grandfather’s crumbling amour and weapons. After a
wordless breakfast Father assisted me putting on the unfamiliar armour. I felt the ruptured breastplate roughly
graze against my skin. It caused me to shudder inexplicably.
I made my way to the door. “Well then I guess this means goodbye.” I said. Father stared at me fondly
muttering a few indecipherable words as though ashamed. I was never quite sure what he said, perhaps the
almost inaudible words were; “ Mother, and now you too?”
* * *