Boqin’s Life
John Tan
n the Jiaoshan, Hebei, Great China, during the reign of the mighty Emperor Zhengtong, there was the Great
Wall. There was always the Great Wall. Children in nearby villages played games about it. The soldiers on
patrol would occasionally toss a goodie or two down to the children below, and smile at their delighted,
innocent faces. Men, women and children smiled at the mention of it and all felt a kind of respect for the
Great Wall. It was everyone’s hope of protection, the symbol of our power. In the olden days, the Mongols
and Manchurians invaded this land, but were finally driven away from it; for this is our motherland, our home,
and we’ll see that it remains ours and in good shape.
g, Group 4: Fiction, Island School
I
The Great Wall was like the backbone of a dead dragon that curled and winded its way through the
peaks and kept the foreign invaders at bay. The trees that grew on the mountainside were lush and verdant.
Vines and moss covered bare rocks. The hot sun shone as if the gods were pleased with the burnt offerings made
that morning. Faint chantings could be heard from nearby monasteries as monks and nuns praised the Buddhas
and Bodhisattvas of old in unison. Songbirds sang arias, refrains and chorales, and all who heard took pleasure
in it. The sky was clear and blue and smoke puffed out of the beacon towers as breakfast was clearly being
cooked and prepared. A gentle breeze was cool and refreshing in the summer day. Soldiers could be seen
striding around the Great Wall, stretching their limbs and jogging about in threes or fours.
In one of the millions of beacon towers, there lived an old man and a young soldier. The man’s face
was wrinkled and crinkled, making him seem grand and wise. His hair was snow white, with bits of it sprouting
on his head. His eyes were unseeing; only in his dreams does he really see. But how perspicacious he was! And
how perfect was his hearing and sense of smell! He could tell when a duck soup or chicken soup was being
cooked. He could tell the difference between bee and a wasp just by hearing their buzzing. He walked about
without a walking stick for there was no need of it. He knew the exact way to Fuhua or Bohai’s beacon as well
as where the firewood was kept. Like the rest, he wore the average soldier’s attire and lived in their assigned
beacon towers. The young man was his constant companion, his helper. For what would happen if the old man
had an accident? So, the men casted lots, to see who would take care of the old man and prevent accidents from
occurring in future, and the lot fell on Liko. Liko came in when he was 25 years of age. Boqin, however, was
here for his whole life.
Boqin woke up in his hay mattress, and sucked in the smell of chicken soup, his mouth watering.
Liko glanced back as he stirred the soup in the large pot, and smiled. The pot was supported on 4 large stones
and firewood was placed underneath and the fire licked the pot hungrily. Beside the pot, there was a large
cupboard, big enough for a grown man to recline in it, comfortably. Boqin got up, rolled his blanket and set it on
the side of the mattress. Then, they settled on a table and supped their broth. The sun rose, higher and higher,
until it reached its peak, then it fell behind a mountain, and everyone and everything was slowly being lured into
night’s enticing spell of sleep.
All the soldiers looked forward to eight o’clock. They waited intensely as the weights of an incense
clock dropped onto a gong and resonated into the distance while the happy shout of ‘STORY TIME!’ rose up
and yells of delight could be heard for miles around. The generals and high-ranking officers glanced up at the
Great Wall from their houses and shook their heads, smiling. For that was when story time began. And oh boy,
what stories Boqin could tell! The beacon tower was jam-packed with soldiers, getting comfortable and listening
to their bedtime story. He told of myths, legends, Hongwu, Jianwen, the emperors preceding Yongle, of Tugh-
Temür, Toghan-Temür Khan and Rinchinbal Khan of the Yuan Dynasty (for the soldiers were Chinese people –
and they especially loved to hear of the Mongols’ weird customs, traditions, their fears, secret shames and
hopes… as well as other things that Boqin heard from the soldiers before him.
That night, when he finished telling his story about the ridiculous 2 month reign of Khoshila Khan,
and waited for the men to stop guffawing, he felt especially tired and walked back to his beacon tower, half
asleep, with Liko following him, concernedly. The trees were swaying as a cold wind blew from the East;
fromamong the trees, a serpent stared coldly at the Great Wall. Boqin shivered and walked faster to the beacon
tower. After Boqin undressed and finished wiping himself with a hot, damp towel; he slipped into his blanket
and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming.
When Boqin opened his eyes, he saw a dead, white-faced woman covered in a blanket being taken
away by 3 soldiers. It was the beginning of the Ming Dynasty and a screaming babe, that looked vaguely