The Red Silk

The Red Silk

There is so much work to get done. I know I’m not supposed to complain, but it’s so hard when I look out the window and see my neighbor Dai Yáng playing cuju with some of his friends. Dai wants to play professional cuju for the emperor so he is always practicing. It’s even more torture that I can’t play cuju because I’m a girl. It looks like so much fun running around, with the cool breeze whipping your face. While they're having fun kicking a leather ball stuffed with feathers around, I’m stuck in our hot and muggy kitchen cooking rice for dinner.

Naturally my family has rice every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner because we’re rice farmers, but you can see how I would get tired of it while the Yáng family gets to eat duck with salt and garlic, and turnips and soybeans on the side. And while we have to wear rough hemp tunics made of plant fiber, the Yáng family gets to wear beautiful soft silk made from the cocoon of a silkworm. But again, I’m not supposed to complain.

After I finish making a batch of rice I go outside to collect some more from my best friend Quaing who is farming the rice with my (sort-of) adopted father. Long story short is, I was left outside to die when I was a baby because I wasn’t a boy and this family saved me and took care of me. Boys are much more appreciated than girls. A lot of times girls like me are left in the wilderness to die when they are just babies. I just don’t understand why my family couldn’t have just loved me the way I am. Anyway, me and Quaing carry the bag of rice inside our tiny hovel, which only has two rooms, and put it on the only piece of furniture we have, which is a really old bench that is piled with all the stuff we needed to live. I am very glad we have this bench because most peasants don’t have any furniture in their hovel. Quaing put this bag next to the other bags of rice.

“Xun! You’ve only finished two other bags and you’ve been working in here for two whole hours! You need to work harder! Do you want to have enough money to survive?” Quaing shouted loudly.

“Yes sir.” I say. I am used to it. Even though he is my best friend I think he only acts like this because he hates being a peasant as much as I do, working hard in the field all day where he can plainly see all the rich people eating delicious food and playing fun games. Before Quaing got even more upset, my mother asked him to play our favorite game, weiqi.

Weiqi is a boardgame that rich people play. We only have the game weiqi because one day when Quaing was getting water from the yellow river he found a very old set on the ground. The game is played with light and dark game pieces that are actually very smooth rocks. I am really good at the game and I can always win but everytime I play I let Quaing win because he hates to lose and it’s embarrassing to lose to a six-year old.

When the game is over I have to go back to my chores. The next thing I have to do is dust off our mud brick walls. I do this all the time so I know the hovel by heart. But today I am feeling curious so I decide to explore around the house. While I’m looking around I see a rock in the corner of the hovel. It looks like it was stuck in the ground or supposed to be there. Without thinking I go over to the rock and lift it up. It is surprisingly easy to lift. I thought it would be harder because it looked so stuck in the ground. Right when I lift up the rock some dried sand and dirt floats into the air making me sneeze. Underneath it was a small, old box. On the box there was a carving of a flower. I slowly open it. Inside is a tiny dress. But not just any dress. It is silk red dress, the kind that a royal baby would wear. I examine the dress more closely and realize something. The dress is embroidered with three letters, X-U-N. These three letters are the letters that spell my name.

I need to know where this came from. What should I do? All I think about after that is the dress. Was it mine? I don’t know any other Xuns. It was in our hovel after all. Could I really have been rich once? I run outside asking anyone who would listen if they knew where the red silk had come from. When I get back to the hovel it is already dark. Everyone is yelling at me. I’m not listening to them but I can tell there is a lot of tension in the air. When someone starts talking I pretend to listen but I can’t focus, all I want to know is where the silk came from.

That night when I go to sleep I don’t even think about our thatched roof falling down. I barely even feel the freezing cold ground beneath me. My dreams are full of happy thoughts and delicious food that would make my mouth water if I was awake. That night I sleep peacefully with the soft silk dress against my cheek.