Warmth Of The Fire

In a place where daytime is quiet, the night can only be livelier.

The soldier opens his eyes slowly, lashes quivering as he tries to get used to the vivid lighting; it appears that he's inside an old mountain-shrine.

He isn't alone. There are people sitting around a nearby campfire, preparing food, and the atmosphere is rather spirited.

He tries to sit up, and only then does he notice that at some point in time his wounds have been cleaned and bandaged; guessing from the faintly cold medicinal smell, treated too.

He sits quietly, exploring the dilapidated shrine with his gaze.

The conversation of the youths around the fire flows in the air like the fume of incense; comfortable and low, all-enveloping.

There is a heavy pot hanging above the flames, and it seems that they are preparing congee. There is an unusual, mildly acrid scent in the warm fragrance; possibly some wild herbs added to increase benefits.

The patter of rain is audible from the direction of the entrance, and the warm shades of orange fuse with the greens and blues of the vegetation overgrowing the carved rocks.

Although the youths around the fire aren't deliberately controlling the volume of their words, the soldier still can't seem to understand what they are saying.

After a while spent in thought, he chooses to lie back to the ground. The flickering lights reflect bluntly in the dark indigo eyes, and a daze gradually settles in the gaze. It seems that there is nothing left to ponder upon.

Time wears on, and the shadows merge into new constellations. Someone is pulling the soldier's sleeve, and he blinks his eyes open slowly.

It seems that he had fallen asleep, and by the time of waking, at least an hour has passed. There is a bowl in the hand of the person who's holding his sleeve, and a gentle smile below the cloth covering the gaze.

Warm steam rises from the crude bowl, and the soldier accepts it, wanting to speak, but not quite being able to do so.

The person turns his head as if listening to something the other cannot hear nor understand, finally shaking his head. He's still smiling as he holds out a honey-coloured finger and pokes the soldier's collarbone.

'I'm not the one who saved you. It was my shixiong, look, over there.' He gestures towards the fire pit, but his eyes are hidden behind the cloth, and the soldier isn't convinced that he can really see where he's pointing.

Although, the person sitting next to the fire, carefully spooning the food into the bowls of those around him, he really does look familiar.

But he is wearing the same attire as all the other seven or eight youths, and it is difficult to differentiate. The soldier only nods slowly for courtesy's sake.

Don't tell him, surrounded by only people who can't see what he does, he really is helpless.

There are no words, and the person who gave the food just then opens his mouth again as he moves around to find a more comfortable place to sit in. 'Things are like this; I don't know if you have any plans? Where to go, what to do?'

The soldier shakes his head, and strangely, the other seems to understand the meaning of his silence.

His words become softer, slurring as he drinks his porridge little by little, only taking his mouth away to say, 'It isn't too bad to stay either, how could it be? Isn't it just like that; the way is a river, its means are inscrutable, and the whereabouts of the estuary are always unknown..'

There is a hand that nudges his shoulder, and another pair of legs appear as someone else sits down next to them. 'Don't always make a mess of your words, do you think he doesn't see you're just trying to coax him.'

The soldier glances up at him through the steam, then looks over to the first person. The other doesn't seem bothered by the harsh words at all, still maintaining the smile before, as if aware that they are nothing more than teasing. A little bit foolish.

The newcomer drinks the last bit of congee in his bowl before placing it on the ground and nodding towards the soldier ceremoniously, 'If you do choose to follow us, it's alright, but you have to understand that life here isn't as it is elsewhere.'

The soldier nods slowly, and it's as if his uncertainty has fallen right under the eyes of the two. The second person tilts his head slightly, 'It's fine to go on your own way as well. I'm sure shixiong won't take it amiss either. If it makes you uncomfortable, just take it as accumulating merits. That's better, isn't it? You don't need to repay it.'

The soldier is stunned, as his thoughts have been revealed so plainly.

The first person breaks out in laughter suddenly. Even his laughter is soft, gurgling like a crystal creek.

'Stay or go, in the end, it's enough to decide once the wounds have healed, there is no need to rush anything; isn't that right?'