A withered rose

Li Hua could feel the water slowly entering her lungs, the pressure building inside her chest. The panic was overwhelming, the helplessness crippling. Thinking of how she had almost achieved her goal and could now live the life that she always wanted she was unwilling. 

This was the reason she left her village. This was why she refused to help with the farm work. This was why she abandoned her elderly parents and chose to be a courtesan. Years of learning the guqin and improving her penmanship in poetry was all to attract a nobleman or rich merchant to make her a concubine. It was all because she deserved the best. She deserved to live a lavish life and have servants serve her. 

She struggled raising her numb hand to grip the edge of the bath. Her hand gripped on tightly as she pulled herself up, the water spilling over the side. The air was thick and hot, making it hard to breathe. But even as she clung on to the edge of the bath, the water was still pulling her down. In a haze, she spotted a shadowy figure standing in the corner of the room watching her. 

She raised her other hand with a hopeful glint in her eyes. She opened her mouth to call out, but no sound came. But the figure just watched her like a sick sadistic person here to witness her death.

As the water rose to her chin, Li Hua felt the strength draining from her body. She wanted to cry, to beg for help, but she couldn't make a sound. No one was going to save her. Her hands lost strength her grip slowly loosening. Her eyes were unwilling but she lost all control of her body.

Her slender fingers slipped off the edge and the water swallowed her whole. Her body sank to the bottom, and the last thing she saw was the dark shadow slowly disappearing into the steam.

Her heart slowed, her eyes staring blankly ahead. "Xiang Yu," she mouthed silently air bubbles emerging from her lips.

Her body lay lifeless at the bottom of the bath, her skin growing paler by the second. The steam curled around her like a blanket, wrapping her in a shroud of silence.

***

"Xiang Yu."

Xiang Yu jolted awake, body aflame with a fever and cold sweat. In his dream that was more of a nightmare his mother's voice, eerie and haunting had called his name from the abyss.

He groaned from the sharp pain his complexion turning sickly pale with sweat dripping down his brows. The door roughly swung open almost falling off its hinges. The proprietress stormed in with a ferocious expression but before she could open her mouth she froze.

How could she have possibly thought that he had committed such a heinous crime in his state? Her eyes darted to his severe injuries and her momentum deflated. 

"You," she began, her voice a blade. "You couldn't have—"

Xiang Yu was confused. He didn't dare breathe deeply before asking, "Couldn't have done what?" The proprietress's expression softened, pity etching lines on her face.

"Li Hua... your mother," she said, her voice gentle. "She's gone. She..."

Xiang Yu's heart fractured, shock clinging to his skin like a second layer. He couldn't believe it. The proprietress must have made a mistake. "Where is she?" he asked his body numb to the excruciating pain. He stumbled on his one good leg as he followed her to the bathhouse. 

He fell twice, the pain from his broken rib and dislocated shoulder flaring but it didn't stop him. The courtesans gathered at the door of the bathhouse gave way for him whispering comforting words.

He pushed through the small crowd his legs almost giving in. When he saw her his body froze, his breath catching. His mother was lying peacefully on the floor her body covered by her silk robe. Her once glossy skin was now dull devoid of life. Her cherry lips which she meticulously scrubbed every night were now purple and cracked. Xiang Yu let out a gut-wrenching cry, the sound echoing through the entire yard. 

Some courtesans rushed to his side, their gentle hands trying to pull him up. Their eyes were filled with pity. But he pushed them away, crawling to Li Hua's side. His tears fell on her face, mingling with the water droplets. 

"How... how could this happen? Who did this?" he spoke his voice hoarse and barely audible but the proprietress heard him. 

She crouched beside him and comfortingly pat his back before reassuring her, "I will find whoever did this... I promise."

***

The yard was hushed, the air thick with incense and grief. Xiang Yu sat cross-legged dressed in white his eyes fixed on the wooden coffin keeping watch of his mother for the all-night vigil. People kept coming in and out of the funeral parlour bringing offerings. 

He occasionally tossed joss paper into the flames their smoke spiralling upward, as though carrying prayers to the heavens. Xiang Yu felt like a ghost himself, caught between realms.

The proprietress approached, concern etched on her face. "Little Yu," she said softly, "let me take your place. You can go and rest." But he shook his head, as he clutched the jade pendant hung around his neck. "No," he whispered. "I will keep watch. That's what she would have wanted."

And so, as the night wore on, he sat there like a sentinel of grief. The chilly wind teased his hair and blew away his occasional tears. 

As the sun rose, the procession gathered. It was like a sombre line of mourners. They wound through the town, their footsteps muffled by grief. They headed outside the town towards the cemetery in the mountains. Xiang Yu watched as they lowered the coffin, the Taoist monk reciting mantras. 

He knelt there silently, his body in agonising pain but at this moment it was a distant echo. The courtesans stood beside him crying in their handkerchiefs until the last shovelful of soil filled the grave. His gaze remained fixed on the mound in a daze. He was the very semblance of the walking dead, lifeless and cold. 

His mind was in such a murky state that he didn't realise when Huang Chao touched his shoulder in comfort. It was his wife's shouting that snapped him out of his trance. Ming Lee's eyes aflame with anger examined his injuries. When she saw the strangulation marks peeking through the white scarf around his neck she erupted in fury.