Hydrangeas and Peonies
Chan Yan Chuen Constance, Group 4: Fiction, Belilios Public School
ne has many masters in a life of servitude, and each master holds a special place in the heart.
Being put at the display window, my days were spent watching crowds go by.
Townsmen were dressed in clean clothing and walked with dignity. Their faces were scrubbed
clean, the hair combed smartly into a do, shirts, pants and skirts were ironed until no wrinkle dared to
show its face. I deduced that these were the well-off citizens that frequented town, to shop but not to
sell.
But, amidst this crowd, one man stood out. His mien instantly caught my attention, with the muddied
clothing, full of creases. He had very dark skin and a weathered face. The hem of his shirt and pants hung short,
with ragged edges. His arms were full to the brim with parcels. But along with the beaten and haggard
appearance, his eyes twinkled with youth. This man stood out because in those worn out shoes, he walked with
an air of dignity. He did not shrink away, trying to hide in the background.
Intrigued, I continued to follow his movements with my eyes, observing, as that strange man walked up and
down the street. He seemed to be searching for something. Suddenly, he made an abrupt turn and headed in my
direction. He stared at me for a while and my heart sped up.
Would he be my first owner? This situation was somewhat different from what I imagined. I expected a posh
lady.
The man entered the shop, after trying in vain to clear the mud off his shoes, least they soil the floor. I
heard the sales lady come out from the back of the room, with an energetic smile and greeting.
“
Is the bag at the window on display for sale?” The man politely asked.
“
Yes.”
The saleslady lifted me from the display rack and the man held me gently. He rubbed my fabric between
his fingers, turning me this way and that, inspecting. His fingers traced the delicate flower designs that were
embroidered with care on my face. The man’s touches were feather-light.
“
Hydrangeas and Peonies!” He breathed out with satisfaction and happiness.
“
Do you like it?”
The man nodded emphatically.
He fumbled around the pockets of his clothing, in search for money. The saleslady, meanwhile, led him to
the cashier.
“
Wrap this one.” She handed me over.
In less than a few minutes, I was engulfed in brown paper and tied with strings. The man supposedly
handed over a few paper bills, since he slipped me among his other packages.
Thus, my journey began.
After an hour on the train, the man got off seemingly in the middle of nowhere. I managed to brush away
some pieces of brown paper, so I could peer outside. In the distance I could make out a long line of uneven
ridges that closely resembled a crawling dragon’s back.
The man lumbered on towards that dragon in the distance. I quietly enjoyed the scenery, the secretive
whispers of the wind, the crunching of soft sand beneath the feet, the clear cloudless sky…
A pained shout and a harsh tumble shocked me out of my stupor. I lay on the ground, nursing my sore self,
when I noticed the man clasping his foot. He clenched his jaws as he stood up to pick up the packages spilled
onto the ground.
As he neared, I heard his quiet mutters, “I’m a Mei, a flower that blooms in adversity. I can bear the pain.”
He nestled his brown packages in his arms and limped onwards, all the while muttering the line. The
man’s labored breaths huffed continuously in my ear.
We made our way to a tiny village lying in the shadow of a great wall; a sign marked ‘Mei Clan’ proudly.
The man tottered through the gate, and stopped not far down a row of houses.
At first glance, the abode gave the impression of an unsuitable residence. It was quasi-shed-like with a
sloppy roof, propped against the great wall. The wall was built with huge stone blocks; stacked one upon
another with calculated precision, the hut was masked from clay. The scorching sun cracked the muddy mixture,
and jagged scars were visible. The wooden door was hinged unevenly. When the man opened it, a screech
horrible as a hawk sounded.
The man attempted to even out his strides to hide his injury. His pants hitched with pain as he stepped
over the threshold.
O