Interlude 3.3: Sickly Spring

Heralding the new year, the Spring Festival was a big deal in Fenlin. It was a kingdom-wide public holiday, and people who usually lived in the city came home to see their families. In tiny Linqin, they didn’t have massive celebrations like in the city, but when spring arrived, their humble village became decked out in red, the colour of prosperity and good fortune. Couplets unfurled from either sides of doors, inked with well wishes. People put out the flowers of spring in their windows and outside their steps: plum blossoms. The local markets began to sell bright little kumquats and strawberries, as well as new year’s treats: sweet rice cakes, egg tarts, crunchy wafers and so much more. Troupes dressed up as lions and danced to the beat of loud drums. In the evenings, some people set off sizzling firecrackers and sparklers, filling the streets with pops of smoke and fire.

On the first day of the festival, it was tradition for families to visit the temple to pray for the year ahead. On the night before, Jemi was in her sisters’ room, where they were planning their cosmetics and trying on their cheongsams for the year. Everyone got Dajie’s hand-me-downs, and Jemi was the fourth in line—but she didn't mind. She liked it when her older sisters fussed over her, twining her dusty-gold hair through with flowers, braiding them into buns on either side of her head.

“Your hair is sooo beautiful!”

“Careful, don’t poke at your buns so much, they’ll get messy again,” fretted Erjie, who had spent half an hour brushing out her unruly curls.

“You realise she’s going to sleep, right? You have to do it again tomorrow morning,” Dajie said wryly, to which Erjie buried her face in her hands with a groan.

“Ohhhh you’re so cute!” Sanjie cooed. “If they saw our meimei like this at school, she’d be such a hit with the boys.”

“What about the girls?” Jemi asked, picking at her nails so she wouldn’t pick at her buns.

“Huh? Why would you want to be a hit with girls?” Sanjie laughed. “You’re so weird, Jemi.”

“I think it just needs one more-” Dajie threaded a last barette into her hair. “Done! Do you want a mirror?”

“No,” Jemi hopped off the stool.

Jemi enjoyed getting dolled up—but she didn't like looking at herself. Her sisters were all ordinary people, with thick dark hair, ink-black eyes, and tanned complexions from long days in the fields. Their hands that brushed over Jemi were calloused, their arms hefty and warm. They were classic village beauties. Jemi, on the other hand, was spindly and pale, with freckly skin that stretched over her bones, scarred in bruises from falls and… other things. Most of all, she hated looking at her eyes. That unnatural, fractured violet. To her, those beautiful eyes were a reminder of why she would never belong.

Her sisters chuckled at her.

“Our meimei just can’t sit still.”

“She’s so energetic when she’s not sick.”

“If she falls sick tomorrow, which one of you wants to carry her? I’m not doing it, I just did it last week when she went to Doctor Ada’s…”

“Oh come on, I did the most work during the harvest, I saw you slacking off with the florist’s son.”

“That was just one time!”

“I think you can’t count, Sanjie, maybe you should have gone to school instead of Jemi.”

“Don’t worry Jemi,” Erjie put a hand on the youngest girl’s shoulder. “I’ll pray that you recover this year. I read in the paper that your horoscope is lucky this solar cycle, and the stars are in alignment for you. It says that you’ll find who you’re truly meant to be, this year!”

“‘Kay,” Jemi mumbled.

The next day, Jemi wasn’t sick. Something else happened.

Her parents awoke in a foul mood. The animals on the farm were causing a ruckus, stirring them early. At three in the morning, her father stormed into her room and demanded her to put a stop to it. Blearily, Jemi wrenched her eyes open; her dad grew impatient watching her struggle to rouse, and yanked her to her feet.

In the darkness, Jemi stumbled her way to the pens and tried to talk to the livestock, but nothing would calm them. Frustrated, her dad told her, “You don’t go back to bed until you solve this!”, and left her there. They went on racketing all the way till dawn, so Jemi got no sleep. She stayed there until she saw the sun coming up behind Mount Casca.

Even with morning light, the animals didn’t stop. Her father returned, found her dozing off on the fence, and yelled at her for not trying hard enough; the usual berations of how much of a deadweight she was. Because they needed someone to stay behind and make sure the animals didn’t get out of hand, Jemi was made to stay home while the rest of the family went to the temple.

So Jemi did. She made her own congee and malt, trying not to think about how her family was enjoying the delicious breakfast buns and special herbal tea they sold at the temple. But it wasn’t too bad. Time home alone was also enjoyable, with no one to tell the eleven-year-old what she had to do. Her neighbours weren’t around to heckle at her, either. After her chores, she spent her time mucking about: kicking chapteh in the yard, playing chess against herself, drawing in her sketchbook. She did keep an eye on the animals as promised, but none of them would tell her what was wrong. In the afternoon, Jemi took a nap; the missed sleep from that morning catching up to her.

Maybe because it was New Year’s, Jemi dreamt about the Nian. In the origin myth of the Spring Festival, the Nian was a ferocious, lion-like Beast that raided villages and ate people; typical monster things. Until one day, the villagers figured out that the Nian was scared of the colour red and loud noises. That was the explanation for why they decorated in red and set off firecrackers.

In Jemi’s dreams, she was the Nian. She was unadulterated power, rippling beastial muscle, descending upon her village. She tore up the crops and smashed through huts, barns and buildings. Nothing at all stood in her way. In the dream, angels tried to shoot her down with golden beams of light, but they were futile. Her neighbours came out dressed in red and banging drums, and Baba came out with his rattan cane, but the old tactics would not work on this Nian. She towered over them, and for once, they were the ones who cowed in fear. She felt faraway, and remorseless; like how she did when she butchered animals.

Jemi awoke from the violence with a peculiar taste in her mouth, and the strangest feeling that her life was about to change.

The rest of the Spring Festival’s first day went by uneventfully. Jemi wasted away the rest of the afternoon, and her family returned from the temple in the evening. Her korkor and jiejie had brought her sweets and leftovers. Even her parents seemed in a better mood; they had her dressed up in her cheongsam so they could take a family photo together, and her mum took over from her in setting up dinner so she could rest. Her dad didn’t insult her for the entire evening. At night, they chatted under the stars and squinted for the distant fireworks from the city, tiny pinpricks that shot and exploded in the faraway sky.

Then the second day of the Spring Festival came, and it all crumbled apart.

On this day, for once, Jemi got up from bed easily. In fact, she had enough energy that, when she went into the kitchen and waited for the congee to boil, she started making and wrapping potstickers with last night’s leftovers. She pan-fried a batch on the spot and stored the rest into the freezer. Popping one of the fried dumplings in her mouth to taste, the girl perked up delightedly.

It was only when she had finished washing up the dishes and taking her medicine that she realised something was amiss. The dawn’s light was starting to bleed into the sky, but her siblings were nowhere to be seen. They were usually out before the sun, grabbing breakfast at the table before they waved goodbye to her, heading out into the paddies.

Starting to feel worried, Jemi hung up the drying towel and popped her head into her sisters’ room.

Her heartbeat stalled in her chest.

There she found Dajie, Erjie and Sanjie curled up on their sides, suffused in sweat and groaning. Panicked, she ran to their bedsides.

“Erjie, what’s wrong?” She shook them, but they weren’t responding. Their eyes were glazed over, their murmuring unintelligible. She felt their foreheads. They had all come down with a high fever. “Dajie? Sanjie?”

Receiving no response, Jemi ran out. She flung open the doors to the other rooms.

It was the same with her brothers, and same with her mum and dad. Laying there curled up, they reminded Jemi eerily of herself on most days.

Jemi bustled from room to room, bringing them cold cloths and breakfast. They could hardly keep food down; she had to bring them buckets for them to puke into. In the kitchen she started brewing a healing soup. Meanwhile, she turned on the news. Something big must have happened, for her strong family members to succumb to illness at the same time. Some bug must have spread at the temple festival, perhaps.

On the Fenlin television broadcast, her suspicions were confirmed.

“A strange kind of plague has gripped the village of Linqin,” said the broadcaster on their little screen. “It seems to have affected everyone in Linqin, as well as the farm animals. Symptoms include fever, vomiting, and night sweats. It doesn’t seem to be contagious so far; people who were out of town during the last two days were not affected. We have lodged a report with angels who are looking into the situation. Volunteers are coming to doors to distribute medicine, but it is running out quickly. We encourage people to take only what they need so that we have enough for everyone.”

There might not be enough for everyone? Jemi thought, panicking. Their home was on the outskirts of Linqin. Shipments coming in from the city might not make it to their part of town if they waited for them.

She stood up from the couch and pulled her coat on. She stuffed a handful of potstickers into her mouth for energy. Then, braving the dreary winter gale, she hopped on Da-ge’s big bicycle, pedalling with all her might down the dirt road, whizzing past the empty fields.

Finally, she reached the local doctor for their area. Dr Ada was a lot closer than the chemist who was located in the town centre. She was the same doctor that Jemi routinely saw for her medical exams and medicine. Jemi was out of breath from cycling up the hill, but after stopping her bike she still ran up to the clinic. There weren’t too many other patients there; most of the population was probably too sick to move. The people who were here seemed to also be those seeking help for their family members.

Jemi tapped her foot impatiently in the queue. When she reached the front, she tiptoed over the counter and asked the receptionist, “Where’s Dr Ada?”

“I already said a thousand times, Dr Ada is out seeing patients in their homes, she’ll get to you soon…” The frazzled-sounding receptionist trailed off mid-speech, blinking down at her. “Jemi? You aren’t sick?”

Thanks to her condition, Jemi was somewhat of a famous medical case in Linqin. “I’m not, but my family is,” she said. “If Dr Ada isn’t around, can you give me some medicine to take home for them?”

But the receptionist merely squinted down at her. As was the case in small towns, you were bound to know everyone in town, or at least someone in common. This receptionist was the second son from the farm next door from the Garens. The entire family was… not very pleasant to Jemi.

“The disease affected young children and the elderly, or those with weak immunity the worst,” murmured the receptionist, staring at the eleven-year-old girl. “And I saw you didn’t leave the house with your family on the first day of the festival, so you couldn’t have been out of town like I was. Why are you, of all people, in the pink of health?”

“I… don’t know,” Jemi shrank. “Look, Timothy, can you just give me the medicine and leave me be?”

Timothy scoffed. He dug around in the cupboard and shoved a bag over the counter, causing it to slide off and fall over the edge, but Jemi’s hands shot out and caught it. She looked inside.

“That’s not enough for eight people-” she began, but Timothy waved her off irritatedly, barking out, ”Next!”