downwards past all the limestone blocks, until he struck the ground’s smooth slabs of black stone with a
sickening sound. “And another corpse for the longest graveyard in the world” she thought, remorsefully. She
had stopped following the Wall and had soared skywards, and was now enveloped in a thick layer of black
clouds hung over the Plexiglas roofs of Beijing. At present, the dozen of escorts whom she had eluded were now
on her heels, and she had to think fast. Without warning, she unfastened the ornamental gold clasp of her cloak,
letting the luxurious vestment, taken hold by the wind, flick about, cracking like a silken sail, before wrapping
around the first two hover scooters in line, sending their pilots earthwards to the labyrinths of streets and rails
sprawling below.
By now, she could barely see the tiny ramparts of the Great Wall. She wondered how many people were
forced into building it, like she was forced into marrying the Prince, unaware of the colossal royal helicopter
hovering overhead. Just as she noticed the light beam resting on her shoulders, she was aspirated noiselessly into
it.
A hushed, subdued clamour woke her up. A quick glance around her confirmed her fears. She was in the
preparation room. She had been lain down on the neat bed, made flawless from top to bottom, in her sea silk
wedding gown, a strange silver trailing gown trimmed with excessive red lace, as if it had been fashioned by
two designers of different eras. On the agar wood nightstand at the far right of the room, she found a sleek
remote deprived of buttons. One touch revealed the tinted floor-to-ceiling window to be a mirror, a second touch
revealed it to be a television showing the crowd waiting eagerly for the ceremony to commence. The digital
clock on the glass surface of a skyscraper grabbed her attention. It was five to seven. Five to her wedding hour.
Diligently, she arose from the bed and watched as a glass staircase unfolded from the window towards the
speechless crowd. Slowly, as the glass screen slid up, the gusty evening air blasted against her blurred eyes, as if
with tears. At the very moment she stepped on the vitreous stairway, an exact replica of the diadem she had
destroyed earlier materialized on her elaborately groomed hair. Exquisitely, she walked down the
unconventional isle, her train flowing in the gusts of cool evening air coiling around her, as the crowd gaped in
awe. She reached the end of the flight of steps. Gracefully, as if she was gliding on the plush, silvery red carpet,
she headed in the direction of a sculpted marble altar, where she was handed a gold encrusted nuptial cup. She
cast her eyes down at the surface of the drink, smooth as black glass. A sole, salty tear streamed down her cheek
to drip into the goblet, the moonlight catching the radiating ripples created. She did not dare look at him in the
eye. She knew what was waiting. She knew she would see a smug, arrogant smile. A smile that meant that he
had won her, like a mere teddy bear you would win at the funfair.
“
With the exchanging of these cups, we shall unite not only two lives, but also two countries!” She looked
at the roaring crowd, the palpable excitement buzzing through the air. The cup stared at her from her shivering
hands, she took a sip. She had lost; she was married.
* * *