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The chilly dawn light hitting your face was what woke you that morning. With a small groan you opened your eyes and rubbed them, trying to dispel all remnants of sleep. Slowly you pushed yourself up from your thin hay bed, young muscles aching in protest. You were merely an adolescent, almost an adult really, yet already your body had aged beyond your time from years of sleeping on cold floors and malnutrition. You hated it, but there was no way you could change anything. You were still too young to get a job and help your family through your current poverty.
Looking through the hole above you, you saw the rising sun poking through. That meant it was time to get up and look for food. With a small sigh you stood, brushing hay off your rags.
"__________! Get your ass up! We got work to do!" your dad's voice snarled from outside the shed.
"Yes, Father. I know, Father," you muttered, stepping out of the hole that used to be a door that had rotted away and onto the dew covered grass. The feel was chilling and cool, but your feet were too numb to notice.
Looking past the morning fog you spotted your mother putting out the fire she used to cook your food. Coming over with a polite nod of your head, you gratefully took her offering of breakfast. It was a mere trout that was hardly more than a few mouthfuls, but it was food nonetheless. You felt proud of yourself for having caught it yesterday all on your own. Your mother never spoke much, and you were far from close to her. From either of your foster parents, really.
Yes, foster. Your current mother had found you as a mere infant in a reed bed, back when she and your foster father had money. You had grown up in a small village and were the smartest and prettiest in your hometown. When you were older younger children looked up to you, and when you were younger older people still admired you for your kindness. You were truly in a land of bliss and beauty, yet not all things last forever. It all came crashing down when everyone in the village was forced out so the government could build something for the emperor. This left you with a deep resentment for anything having to do with royalty.
Things only went from bad to worse then. Your parents were the village heads, and with no village to rely on they lost all wealth. With the little money you had your foster father ended up spending it on alcohol. He had always drank when you were young, but when the village was destroyed your father suddenly ended up getting drunk and passing out. Not soon after he became ill you realized that the reason your foster mother had always been so distant from you when you were younger was because she envied your beauty and kindness. You had gone from someone who was dearly loved to someone else's kid that two other people kept for the work she provided.
Even after all those events that had happened years ago, nothing had changed. Your mother didn't care enough to find work, and your father was too much of a drunkard. Honestly, you were rapidly becoming sick of it. You were feeding them and barely yourself in the process. You wanted to run away, to find your own place in the world, but you were held back by the good, happy times you remembered having with them. If there was anything you hated more than the Chinese royalty, it was that one weakness.
"__________, get your lazy ass moving!" your father barked, coming up behind you.
Yes, because I am the lazy one , you thought bitterly. Nevertheless you finished your trout and stood, beginning to walk away.
"Wait a second, missy." Suddenly you were grabbed on the head and tugged by the hair back to your foster parent. His breath reeked of alcohol, but you had gotten used to it, as well as the abuse. "Don't think you can just go without a word. What do you say?"
Your eye twitched slightly. Oh how you loathed the way he sang his words so cheerily. "Goodbye, Mother. Goodbye, Father. I love you," you said, trying to conceal your venom.
He looked you up and down once, then shoved you away. "No you don't," he muttered.
If you know that I don't love you anymore, why do you demand I tell you so? you mentally shouted, wishing so badly you could tell him that. Instead you kept your mouth shut and continued on, paying no heed to your smirking fake mom.
You traveled along the bed of a nearby stream, hardly feeling the wet soil that caught between your toes. It had rained recently, but it had dried enough so that all the mud was gone. You were thinking about bathing today, but only if you collected enough food. Today your goal was to find edible plants and berry bushes, hopefully catch some more fish, and check to see if the peach tree that grew along the edge of this particular stream further down had produced any fruit yet. The last time you had visited it, about a week ago, it's blossoms were in full bloom.
As you walked you managed to find edible mosses that grew on rocks and a few more water plants that were safe to eat. Although, you only knew that from experience, not actual knowledge. Most of the time you were thankful that you had not ingested anything poisonous, although sometimes, usually after a beating, you weren't. Other times you felt guilty for having your parents eat unknown plants before you did.
At one point you came to a small lagoon, where you decided you would try and cleanse yourself. You weren't going to bother trying to catch the worthless minnows that darted about. Stripping fully of your rags you carefully dipped into the shallow water, dropping to your knees to more fully immerse yourself up to your shoulders. You disliked bathing, not just because there was little to no privacy, but as the dirt washed away you could better see the injuries inflicted by both of your foster parents. There were the scars from the broken bottle, the one from being shoved face first onto concrete, the bruise from being kicked in the stomach, the cut from being scratched by your mother… It was hard not burst into tears with each sighting of abuse.
"I need to leave," you murmured to yourself, staring down at the ripples you created. It distorted your face, but you could still clearly see yourself. You didn't understand why your mother was envious of you. Your whole body was covered in grime and wounds, and anything but beautiful. But now that you thought about it, maybe you really were that way once and your parents had been meaning to deprive you of this trait since the beginning. It wouldn't surprise you.
Once you had washed away as much scum as you could, you put your clothes back on and set off again. The scenery never seemed to change along the flow of water, it was always just lilies and tall grasses and reeds. If only you could find peace under the bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds that stretched an eternity and beyond.
Your daydreams of freedom were silenced soon enough, replaced with a sound that caught you so off-guard you openly gasped. It sounded so familiar, something you hadn't heard since you were younger. It was a…it was a…
"A bamboo flute?" you whispered in shock. Sometimes your father or mother would play theirs to you when you were little, attracting everyone in the village to come listen as well. But as you heard this melody flow from an unknown location and source, you realized at that moment that signs of your parents' true nature had lied in the smallest of things such as this. When they played they played already composed music, and with no true passion. They only blew their mouths into it and ran their fingers over the body. Only the instrument sounded beautiful because that was what it sounded like. However, it wasn't played right.
But this, this time it was. Like liquid running over a smooth rock the notes seemed to flow out and paint the air, not taint it like your parents had done. It was calm and soothing and appeared to come from someone's heart, not a little empty tune. The sound was so sweet you longed to scent it, and ten times more so to see whoever was creating such a masterpiece. It was so strange how quickly you were captivated, how you were pulled in a music's warm embrace. Warmth…it was joyous to feel a trace of that again.
You crouched down until you practically crawling on the ground, quietly pushing yourself through clumps of fern so as not to disturbed the player. You wanted to see their face, you truly did. You bet it was being playing by a gorgeous and generous woman that made you appear like the devil, or a handsome man who all women would praise and grovel at his feet. Your heart, which you had thought frozen over, began beating against your chest. Your breath quickened in excitement as the noise—no, beauty—grew louder.
Finally, you pushed away a last clump of water weed and found what was making you feel alive once more. You had to bite your tongue to refrain from gasping in astonishment at the pure majesty before you.
There, sitting against the trunk of the peach tree you planned on visiting across from you at the other side of the stream, was a man. But not just any man. Oh, nowhere close. He seemed to radiate elegance and grace, to be wrapped in regality and poise. His eyes were closed as he breathed into the instrument, running ample fingers smoothly up and down the surface, tapping the holes to play a new note. Above him peach blossoms rained down from the branches, cascading and swaying in the whisper of a breeze. Small and colorful birds chirped in the tree, accompanying his music. Beautiful locks of chocolate hair were settled on his shoulders, outlining his angelic face. You weren't one to fall in love with something at first sight, especially only because they were pretty, but this time you made an exception.
You didn't know how long you spent observing him, but it took longer than it should have to notice his clothes and have all your admiration break apart. He wore fancy crimson robes that were lined with gold trimmings, which was obviously fancily suspicious within itself. But the thing that really signaled him out was the dragon printed on the robe to the side of his chest and the golden fabrics with tassels at the end draped over his shoulders. That could only mean one thing: He was royalty.
Slowly you crept backward in the grass until you could no longer see him, feeling saddened, angered, but most of all confused. He had to be one of the most incredible creatures you had seen, but he was royalty . What was the least important was that there was no way you could have him, although you already figured that when you saw how higher in the caste system he was compared to you. The most important was the fact that you had judged him too quickly. The empire was the reason why all these terrible things had been happening to you. The empire was the reason why the only ones left in your life were turning against you, hurting you. You were raised learning to love and to never hate, yet them you hated. They were the reasons why you were forced to leave all you had ever known and were being driven to do it again. It was all their fault. All of it.
And yet, there was just something about him you couldn't quite place. You had never encountered anyone with such purity, such…elegance. He was a masterpiece, exquisitely crafted and proud, gorgeous and stunning. It was something completely against you, but that face…had you really fallen in love with someone solely because of their appearance and ability to play the bamboo flute in a matter of moments? How ridiculous. Completely, absolutely ridiculous.
"I cannot believe myself," you muttered as you headed back to your so-called "home", carrying the items you had collected. You looked up at the sky to see the sun setting from the other side of the stream, where you had seen who you were figuring was the prince. And if you looked carefully, you could just see the tops of the palace glistening in the evening light in the distance, seeming to be in flames. So many times you had prayed that one day it really would be set alight, burning to the ground the same way they had done to your village. But now that you knew such a being lived there, that that was his home…
When you returned the ending of your day was average, with your foster mother not uttering a word or showing any expression besides occasionally giving you a wicked smirk as your fake father insulted you, calling you hideous, stupid, and hitting you. This time, however, you did not go against him in your mind like you normally did. This time, you felt that for once he was right. You were an ignorant, immoral fool who could not practice what she preached. Falling for a prince at first sight…how ludicrous!
"I shall never go that way again, nor pay him heed if he is to return to the peach tree," you vowed to yourself that night as you readied for bed. You did not sleep well that night, for every time your eyes closed his face and music playing flashed in your mind. Much of that night was spent reprimanding yourself. You didn't even know what his name was or what his eyes looked like! Although, you were sure they were both lovely… No they weren't!
Yet for a whole month afterward, he was always invading your thoughts, mostly your profound curiosity to see his eyes and know his name. In the first week alone it had gotten so terrible that already you caved and ended up going to the peach tree more than once each day, although you did nothing but tell yourself it was because you were impatient for the blossoms to bloom and obtain the fruit. Sometimes he would be there, each time with his bamboo flute, and you would end up observing him for hours at a time, all thoughts that it was wrong fleeing your mind as the music and his handsomeness pulled you into a place of bliss, a place you had not visited in quite some time. Each time he played his eyes were closed and you never got a chance to see them, and each time you ended up spending a large portion of your day listening and longing more than gathering food. It did not take long for your parents to notice your constant absentmindedness or that you were bringing back less and less food. It didn't take long for you to finally leave, either.
*~*
"You're going out again, are you?"
"Yes," Wang Yao, the prince of China, answered his father, the king.
His father's brow furrowed. "You have been leaving the palace grounds frequently. Is everything alright, my son?"
Yao nodded with a refined expression. "Yes, it is just that I have found a peaceful spot by a stream under a lone peach tree, and I have found it is an excellent area for relaxing and playing my bamboo flute."
"I see." The king nodded his regal head, satisfied. "Very well then, you may go. However, due to the sudden flux of criminal activity—which I shall soon dispel—I would like you to take two guards with you as well."
Yao knew better than to groan in annoyance. "Father, please. I understand your good intentions, but I've been going there for almost a month now without so much as seeing a human. Besides, they will destroy the desolate quietness."
The king glowered at his son, but then sighed tiredly. "Fine, then. Two guards will still be appointed, however I will allow you to station them a fair enough distance away that puts you to ease."
The prince nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Father." He bowed stiffly and left to find two guards, knowing well his father would learn if he disobeyed orders and would be punished severely for it.
As Yao walked a secret path out of the castle and towards the stream away from the public he thought about what he didn't mention to his father, that another reason he wanted to go was to identify the strange feeling of being watched he had been getting frequently. He wouldn't say it made him uneasy, it actually felt kind of…gentle. How he placed that adjective on the matter, he wasn't sure, but it fit. It most definitely wasn't the stalker or assassinator kind of watching either. It was just…watching. He was being watched and listened to by something—or someone—who meant no harm. In fact, if he really thought about it, it was very…nice. He badly wanted to discover what was making him feel this way.
Yao made his guards stop and wait a good distance away from the tree, promising to shout if he needed help. Not that he would, of course. Unless he was wrong and the thing that was spying on him was indeed dangerous… He shook the thought away. Sometimes he felt unsure about the presence when he came here, but when he played his flute to his own music all his negative emotions faded away. So he walked through the tall grasses, knowing well enough that the thing would not be there until a bit later, as it was not afternoon yet when the feeling normally appeared.
However, when he reached the tree, his flute fell from his hands and his mouth fell open in a behavior he was strictly not allowed to do. All his lessons on an indifferent but still royal appearance could not have prepared him to be facing the backside of a young naked girl leaning against the tree.
For a moment he only stared, more surprised at just seeing her there than her being nude. It was when her body shuddered once that he was brought back to earth. Yao slowly made his way around her so he was facing her front, just then noticing the cuts and bruises she was covered in. She was curled in a tight ball, thin legs pulled up to her stomach and arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself. She seemed to be asleep, as she did not respond to his questions if she was okay, not that he didn't know the answer already.
Gently he reached out and shook her small shoulder. "Excuse me, but can you hear me? Miss?"
The girl shivered again under his grip and a few tears fell down from her closed eyes. It was when she began crying that he noticed how beautiful she was. The skin tone of her pale face was outlined with a swollen lip, a cut on the cheek and one above her eyebrow, but he had never seen such a naturally angelic frame. She was so petite, so delicate looking, like the touch of one of the peach blossoms that were falling would break her. Yao in no way admired the girl for her body in an indecent fashion, that she was bare and vulnerable. Instead he admired how she appeared to be sculpted out of the finest marble, and as he laid a hand on her bruised cheek—making her cringe—she felt like the finest satin, her hair the smoothest silk as he brushed away a stray lock fluttering in the whispery breeze. Fury could not begin to describe how he felt when he realized someone had abused this dear woman.
"Guards!" Yao barked, moving his hand to feel her forehead. It was burning fiercely.
They appeared mere seconds later with swords drawn, but even with their training they seemed to be just as surprised as their prince had been. He heard them gasp, but paid no heed. Feeling the overwhelming desire to shield and protect this girl he shed his outer robe and draped it across her back, taking the ends and gently pulling her into his chest. She gasped and whimpered slightly, but still did not wake. He tied to robe over her front, not wanting her naked body against him for the sake of both their modesties. Then he carefully lifted her into his arms, surprised by how bony and light she was.
"Escort us home," Yao ordered, still too focused on the girl's face. "We must help this girl."
"Your Majesty, I don't believe bringing this peasant to your father is a good idea—" one of the guys tried to say, but Yao cut him off by looking at him over his shoulder furiously.
"No. We are taking her," he said firmly.
"Yes, Your Majesty," both men said at once, bowing slightly.
As the prince was escorted back to the palace, a man in front and a man behind him, he looked down at the fragile creature he held with the utmost care, wondering what beautiful name she was blessed with and what color eyes graced her complexion. She was just so delicate, almost like a…like a…
"Peach blossom," Yao murmured to himself as the gates to the back entrance to the palace creaked open. Soon word was sent to the king and queen of their son's return and what he had brought with him, and in another moment after he had explained the situation she was whisked away by the medically knowledgeable servants and his mother, whose heart had melted with sympathy and care for the girl on sight. He may not have known anything about the girl, but one thing was for certain as she was taken from his arms. She had been the one observing him. Another thing he was sure of was this:
He was going to marry her.
*~*
Yao sat on the chair in his room, watching the girl's chest rise and fall under his bed sheets. It was suggested that he leave her in the servant's quarters, but there was no way he would allow that and instead tucked her into his bed. Hours had passed and she was still asleep, but he did not want to miss her waking and stayed. To pass the time he began playing his flute, and as he played he heard her give a small sigh. In a second he was on his knees at her side, looking intently for any signs of coming to. Slowly her lips—still bruised, but not as swollen—began to move, whispering words he did not understand. Finally, her eyes slid open.
Breathtaking <(eye color)> eyes fastened to his honey-colored ones. For a long moment they stared at each other, gazes locked. And Yao knew then that he had never seen anyone so goddess-like.
Tentatively the girl reached up with a shaky hand to brush the skin on his cheek. He had never felt such a desirable touch. "It's…you…" the girl croaked in a tiny voice. He had never heard such a soft and kind voice.
Yao grabbed her hand when she went to lay it down with both of his, not wanting the feel to leave him. Her eyes moved up and down his form, observing him. "My name is Yao," he said gently, not wanting to frighten her.
She was silent for a moment, then murmured, "You…you're royalty."
He nodded. "Yes, I am the prince of China."
When he said those words she moved her head to stare at the ceiling. "Your Highness—"
"I am Yao," he repeated, still gently.
"Yao…" the girl echoed, "why did…you save me?" Her beautiful eyes suddenly began to water, making Yao's heart hurt. "I wanted…to die…"
"But why?" he whispered, holding her hand just a bit tighter.
"They did not want me anymore…I did not want them... They hurt me."
"What is your name?" the prince asked suddenly.
The girl's gaze rested on him again, this time filled with sadness. Again, Yao felt a pang of hurt. "I have none," she answered lowly.
Yao was surprised. He blinked and said, "What? Surely you were given a name at birth."
She shook her head, appearing even more at dismay. "I did...when my foster parents found me. But they…never loved me…they always hurt me." She then told him her story, from living in the village to her life in poverty to how her father was in a drunken outrage one day and took it out on her, forcing off her clothes and cutting open all her scars and inflicting new wounds, banishing her from their home and saying that she would never use her name again.
"I do not want to, anyway," she finished with Yao wiping away her tears. "Anything that has to do with them…means nothing to me anymore." Her eyes moved up to look into the prince's, full of hurt and pain. "What will...become of me now?"
Again, Yao was surprised. However he answered without hesitation. "You are going to start a new life," he said matter-of-factly. "With me."
Her eyes widened in curiosity. "What exactly are you asking me?"
Yao brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "You are a beautiful woman that already I find myself growing an attachment to. If you were to depart, I know already I would be devastated. And where would you go? You have lost everything. Please, allow me to give it back…Bao."
Again, her eyes widened. "Bao?" she repeated. When he nodded she carefully took the hand encased in his and placed her delicate fingers against his lips with a breath of a touch, having no care that the action could lead to losing her head. "I am a precious treasure, then?"
He nodded without question, his lips still being fingered.
She lowered her hand, searching for something in his eyes. For a long time he waited with a pounding heart for her response. Then, to his delight her milky lips upturned in the tiniest of smiles.
"I have not smiled in so long," she confessed. "But if you can make me do so with saying a simple word…I accept your offer, Yao. I shall start my life over in a new way under a new name, that being Bao. And this new life…I shall start it with you, for I do believe that the impossible has happened: I have fallen in love with a man I only barely know. But you, I see honesty and nobility in your eyes, and because of that the emotion I thought was a mere word meant to disguise true dark intentions has been placed in my heart once more. Love really does ring true…I only had trouble find it."
A smile graced Yao's lips, that being rare as well. "Very well, then." And so he leaned forward and caressed Bao, laying his lips upon her sweet mouth.
If you want to know what happened later, the prince managed to sway his parents into allowing him to marry the peasant, and their wedding happened mere days later. In the years following the two spent many blissful years together as prince and princess until the king and queen died, where they then took their place. The whole of China adored Yao for his skill and devotion to his people, where Bao proved many times over that she was as clever as she was beautiful, being known throughout the land for her incredible patience, understanding, and generosity. Her real parents were never found, nor her adopted ones, so their crimes were never carried out. However she did not mind, for she had three princes and one princess she was busy taking care of.