Let Our Paces Be A Concerto

I know...I'm getting old but lately I've been showing some interests in SM Town's newest boyband, EXO.  The only reason why I got hooked was because one day while on the homepage of YouTube, I happened to see the music video of EXO-K being displayed and decided to click on it.  Then I noticed that the video title was "What is Love?" (Korean Version).  I thought, "Oh, is there an English version too?"  No, it turned out that there was a Chinese version.  However, since I'm more interested in Korean produced Chinese music, I decided to listen to the Chinese version.  At first, the song didn't seem too interesting but after listening to it a couple of times, I found the song to be pretty catchy and the boys "very pretty" as well.  So that did it...and EXO's got my attention for a while now.  Although all of them are equally likable and talented, I just thought that EXO-M's Chen is just too adorable especially given the fact that he is so shy and quiet on the Chinese talk shows that EXO-M's been on.  So, to honor Chen, I've decided to write a short fan-fiction of him.  I usually don't like to write stories that don't include something about being Hmong--explaining why I also don't normally write fan-fictions (it's not that I'm biased but because I feel like I can only do justice to Hmong stories since I don't have a good grasp about other cultures except for their stereotypes only) but I've made an exception for Chen. 

The story is still in progress but I've decided to upload what I have thus far...and will continue to update/perhaps modify the story a bit as I continue writing it...

(Interesting Note: I just realized that Chen's voice alone = Baekhyun + D.O. + Suho's voices.  That's probably why he, rather than one of the other three Exo-K members who could voice belt, was chosen to be in Exo-M instead.  Pretty cool...which means that he has a heck of a good voice.)

Let Our Paces Be a Concerto

Characters:

Kim Jong Dae: Slave Boy/Chen

Yoo Hana: Young Lady/Yoo Hana

Lee Joon Hyuk: Crowned Prince 

            He was neither too tall nor too short in stature, and in fact, he was perfect in height.  His shoulders were broad and stout, his facial structure was strong and finely cut out with high cheek-bones and handsome features.  His milky skin tone and fudge-colored hair shimmered under the glittering sunlight that blinded his eyes.  He raised his right palm into the sky to block the golden beam of light that gently beat down upon and warmed his cold hand.  In spite of the cheerful, everlasting sunshine and beautiful colored and flower fragranced countryside, it was raining in his world on this March spring morning.  That dream returned, and this time, it was more vivid than prior’s past—and so his heart ached and longed for more.  It rained, and so it made his tears tumbled tenderly onto the dirt ground, missing and reminiscing of her.

            The western horizon had stopped glowing in different shades of red as the sun fell behind the mountains and darkness devoured the landscape into a picturesque silhouette.  The temperature dropped below freezing point, and the snow returned—whispering a lullaby to calm the day to sleep and fluttering gently onto the earthen ground to cover it in a layer of thick white blanket.  A beautiful and elegantly-decorated palanquin stopped in front of a manor, and a pair of phoenix-embroidered shoes stepped onto the snow—pressing the shaved ice onto the ground to brand prints of her shoes.  The young lady pulled her emerald-colored silk outer-coat over her head so that she was covered up except for her fair face.  A maid servant rushed the girl toward the manor’s main gate, and charged a lad in torn, dirtied ivory and light-brown clothes to bring the young lady’s possessions inside.  The lad nodded and gaily rushed over to grab at least five to six paper boxes from the palanquin.  He then followed behind—stepping on top of the young lady’s every single footprint as he had done so since they were children.

              The son of a magnanimous prime minister, his father became a scapegoat to an internal power struggle, resulting in his entire family being stripped of their nobility and subjugated into slavery.  His father and mother have since past from depression at their injustice and left him an orphan.  If it was not for the kindness of the young lady who used her life to save his, gave him extra rice when food to the slaves were scarce, taught him to read when slaves were forbidden to write, and made him feel important to the world once more—he probably would have long ago join his parents among the twinkling stars in the heavens.  But she was his perseverance—the only flickering hope he had left in his dark path, and so he felt that he owed her his life.  To him, she was more brilliant and beautiful than a fairy, and he vowed deep within his heart to love and protect her for eternity.

            After his nightly prayers and burning of new incense sticks on his family’s humble altar, he approached the eastern quarter.  The candlelight was still luminescing through the paper window, so he smiled and swiftly made his way past the corridor, down the stone steps and toward the base of the young lady’s room.  Although the cold penetrated his skin and made him shiver slightly, it failed to touch his warm heart.  He squatted on top of a large boulder that became smooth and clean over the many years he had sat on it, and rubbed his hands together and blew on them to keep them warm.  Underneath the paper window of the young lady’s chamber, his cheeks burned affectionately and his heart raced restlessly.  He cleared his throat and serenaded her with a gentle song by admiring the blooming plum buds beneath a glitzy snow blanket who is harbinger of his amorous love, and the moon that casted and allowed the shadows of the young lovers to rendezvous under its gleaming diamond light. But as he came to the end of his intoxicating tune, he heard no accompaniment from her haegeum to compliment his passion.  It was a strange sight that sent shivers down his spine, and his heart suddenly felt heavy and cold.  This was unlike the many evenings before where the beautiful vibrations of her bowed-instrument echoed clear and touchingly throughout the glittering snow-filled, tranquil nights.  And after she complimented his verses, her paper-window would pop open, sprinkling snow dusts onto his face.  She would smile and hand him a butterfly lantern to help guide him back to his room and to keep him cozy throughout the chilly night.  No, it was not like that tonight.  All he heard was the whisper of the snow flowers falling gracefully, and all he saw was the candlelight beginning to dim through the paper-window.

            “Young Lady!  Young Lady!” he called tenderly through the dense cold air.  “Are you there?”

            Still, silence. 

            His heart sank, and he felt out of spirit.  His hopeful smile vanished instantly.  “I hope you are well tonight.  If you wished not to speak with me, I shall come again tomorrow night.”

            He glanced one last time at her paper window, and was about to walk away when he heard the window slowly creak opened.  Thrilled by the noise, he turned around to look and his smile reappeared.  But as he stared at her, she looked pale and gloomy.

            “Young Lady…” he mumbled worriedly.

            She tried hard to put on a faint smile and slowly handed him the butterfly lantern like she did every night before.  “This may be the last time,” she said solemnly.  “I hope you will take care of yourself well when I’m no longer here.”

            He looked confused.  “What do you mean?  I don’t understand, Young Lady.”

            “You will…when the first light of dawn strikes the eastern mountains tomorrow morning.”

            “Then I shall wait here until morning comes to find out.”

            “No!  You must go.  It is not safe to be here tonight.  You must go,” she insisted.  She then hastily handed him a paper umbrella.  “The snow is falling down hard.  Take the umbrella to shield you and don’t look back.”

            “But…”

            “Go!” the Young Lady shouted softly as she peered into every direction, being alert of spies.  “Go now…quickly…” 

            Although still perplexed at the odd situation, the lad nodded and wasted no time.  Holding the butterfly lantern tight in his left hand, he opened the paper umbrella with his right hand and walked away.  But before he made it past the corridor, footsteps began to clatter softly initially and then grew louder and louder until he was encircled by a group of men.  He gasped at the terrified sight, his feet frozen no matter how much he wanted to run away.  He disliked the appearance of these men and immediately understood that their presence meant trouble. 

            The men moved apart like the sea water did after the phrase open sesame was pronounced, creating a clear path in the center.  A middle-aged man in a mahogany silk robe stepped to the front. 

“Master!” the lad shouted surprisingly and dropped to the ground, the butterfly lantern and umbrella tumbling to the side.

            The noble man picked the butterfly lantern up and smirked irritably.  “Men!” he commanded.  “Lock this slave up!”

            “Yes Sir!”

            “Please, Master, no!” the lad pleaded.  “Please, let me go.”

            The Master’s heart remained unmoved, and he simply stepped aside to let the guards dragged the young lad away.  They threw him into the storage room, and despite his banging on the door until his hands bled and his voice coarse—no one showed any sympathy.

            The storage room was dark and cold, filled with the scent of rotten food.  The air was thick and hard to breathe.  He assured himself that the cramped room was a place worse than the slaves’ sleeping quarter. 

“Am I dead?  Is this hell?” he whispered to himself, after being locked up for five days in a row without taking a single sip of water or consuming a single grain of rice.  Although his stomach grumbled loud and continuously, he no longer felt hungry.  His lips were dried and they cracked from dehydration.  He could barely move a muscle.  It was hard for him to keep his eyes opened, and soon, darkness befell him as he lost consciousness.

A splash of cold water finally got him to twitch, and he slowly opened his eyes—unaware of how many days have passed since he fainted in the storage room.  The sun beat down warmly onto his aching body as he laid face-down on the dirt ground.  He lightly lifted his head and noticed that he was surrounded by a group of men, and among them included his master who stood next to a man in a silk navy robe with a sewn-on golden dragon emblem at the bosom and on his shoulders.  His cheek bones were high, his forehead sturdy and his face enigmatic, his skin was the fairest the lad had seen of a gentleman and he looked like an unforgiving person.  Sitting on a golden chair in the center of a raised stone-platform, he never once glanced in the lad’s direction.  But, the poor chap knew that the man on the chair was important. 

“Get up you rascal!” a royal guard yelled, and dragged him up.

He tried to fight his way out of the guard’s clutch, but he found no energy to do so and decided to let his body fall into the control of the guard.  The man threw him forward, and he smashed onto the dirt ground once more.  A nearby sharp stone scratched his forehead, and it   bled a little.

“Slave Boy!  Confess now, or you will face death!” the master shouted.

The lad slowly pulled himself up to a kneeling position, with tears dripping down his face and dirtying it some more.  “Master, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“You dared defy me, Slave Boy!  Guards!  Give him 5 slashings!”

“Yes Sir!”

Two guards stepped forward, each holding onto a rope.  With all their might, they took turn swinging the rope down bitterly onto the lad’s back.  He screamed and cried with every beating as his white shirt drenched in crimson red.   

“Now, will you confess?”

He smiled.  “What is there to confess, Master?  I have nothing to say.”

“You…are very stubborn, slave.  But I will make you speak.  Guards!  Bring the salt!”

“Yes Sir!”

Two different guards stepped forward, each holding onto a pouch of salt in their hands. They then rubbed the salt onto the rope abrasion on the lad’s back, stinging him with excruciating pain.  He shouted and salty water tumbled down his face ceaselessly as he pleaded the guards to stop. 

“Don’t torture me anymore.  Just end my life if you wished,” he cried.

Although stern on the outside, the lad’s candid pleading made the master’s heart soften so his face cringed and he looked uneasy at the slave’s inhumane torture.  However, when he stared at the man on the golden chair, that man just smirked and looked unsatisfied.    

The master cleared his throat.  “Death is too easy an escape route, slave.  But one word from you, and I may consider sparing your life and this unbearable torture as well,” said the master.

“I have nothing to say.  I am innocent.  I am innocent.”

The man in the golden chair leaned forward.  “Do you recognize me, slave?” he asked.

The chap shook his head.

The man smiled tetchily and nodded.  “Yes, why would I expect someone low like you to recognize me?  But since I asked, let me enlighten you, slave.  I am the future ruler of this country!”

“Your highness…” the lad cried and bowed to the ground.  “Please forgive me.  I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You seem sure of yourself, slave.”

“If I have, I am willing to bear any punishment.”

“Any?”

“Yes, your highness.  Any.  So please be fair.”

“You are very brave, slave, brave enough to be courting the Crowned Princess and the future queen of Chosun.”

The Crowned Prince’s words shocked the lad, and it finally allowed him to understand the young lady’s strange behavior the night prior.

“And do you know that it is a capital crime to engage in an affair with the Crowned Princess?”

Frustration and anger rushed through the lad’s veins, but he knew that he was powerless against the second most powerful man in the country.  All he could do now was seek forgiveness.  “Your highness…please excuse a lowly slave like me...I didn’t know any better,” he begged.

“Of course,” the Prince replied.  “That’s what everyone says in order to try to get their pitiful life spared.  After everything that’s happened, you still claimed to not know anything?”

“No…your highness.”

“Very well.  I will spare you life but since you wished to keep your mouth locked, I will help you lock it up forever so that this shameful incident will remain concealed and not tarnish my reputation in the future.  Guards!  Chop his tongue off!”

The slave boy’s master and the royal guards were stunned to hear such a command of unethical consequence.  They remained silent, reluctant to obey the order.

“What are you all doing?  Did you not hear my command?” the prince shouted.

“But Your Highness?” one of the guards spoke up.  “We kill when needed but it’s too cruel to torture him this way.”

“You all kill but cannot perform this simple command?” he questioned furiously.

All of the royal guards bowed their heads and stared at the ground, no one was fierce enough to undertake the task.  Livid, the prince pulled a sword out from a nearby guard and approached the lad.  The guards and the master all shut their eyes tight as the sound of a sharp blade sliced across human flesh.  Once it was over, the prince threw the butterfly lantern and umbrella at the lad.

He remained unconscious for many days.  When he finally gained consciousness, he found himself unable to express his thoughts.  His tongue was gone, a punishment that branded him a mute for the remaining of his life.  He felt like he was neither dead nor alive.

“Don’t think too much,” his fellow slave buddy said.  “If it was not for the Young Lady’s begging of the Crowned Prince, you would not have a chance to see the world anymore.  You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Luck?  Is it luck or torture?  I don’t know…” he thought forlornly. 

As the young lady walked down the aisle to become the Crowned Princess, the lad played her haegeum to a haunting tune of unfulfilled love.  The melody was so melancholic and poignant that it made the birds and squirrels halt their movements, the earth stop sprouting life, and the sky cried glittering snowflakes in spring. 

When the glowing snow flowers showered upon the young lady, she extended her right hand to touch the gentle snowflakes.  Her tears fell as if understanding the nostalgic message from heaven.  “Keep yourself alive and work hard,” she thought.  “One day, I will use my position to help you and those like you to become free.”

            She led an apathetic marriage life with the Crowned Prince.  Refusing to him come near her, she was unable to bear him a son.  Furious, he took in a concubine.  Then, he took in a second one and a third one and so on forth.  But whether he had one or thirty royal ladies, her jealousy was not aroused at all.  Instead, she focused her time and energy on campaigning for the freedom of the slaves. 

            Even though she shared her husband whole-heartedly, the concubines were jealous.  Jealous that despite bearing the Crowned Prince a son, he stilled loved the Crowned Princess more.  Jealous that because her status was that of the Crowned Princess, she had more power compared to them and garnered the respects of the high officials.  Their greed for power made them colluded with corrupted officials to take the Crowned Princess down.  Before she seized the chance to free the slaves, her past with the slave boy was publicized and she was libeled with rebellion and an affair.  Although she had a genuine heart and will to find justice and freedom for all slaves, and had long left her love for the lad at the bottom of the deep blue ocean, no one seemed to believe and trust her anymore.

            “You still love him, don’t you?” the Crowned Prince asked in a low tone while visiting his disposed of Crowned Princess.

            Dressed in layers of mourning white clothes, the Crowned Princess looked exhausted of all the dramas and malicious schemes of palace life.  She remained speechless, gazing at an emptied space.

            “You know that I have always loved and treasured you, and I still do.  However, there are laws that even I cannot escape from.  How can I prove to be a justifiable king if I cannot punish my own family members for their wrongdoings?” he remarked, and sighed.  Then, he put a small knife into the palm of her right hand.  “This is the only way for you to save yourself from death, and cleanse yourself of shame.”

            “What are you talking about?” she asked firmly.

            “You must use this knife to rip the slave boy’s heart out, and show it to everyone to prove your innocence.  And, to make sure that you won’t swap his heart with someone else’s or a pig or cow—he must be brought to the execution ground where you will perform this act in front of all the court officials.”

            The Crowned Princess looked incredulously at her husband as the clear, silver knife trembled in her right hand and then tumbled to the wooden floor.  Tears streamed down her face and she continued to shiver from fright.  “I won’t do that!” she cried.  “What kind of a person would I be to sacrifice another’s life just to save my own?”   

            The Crowned Prince picked up the knife and laid it next to his wife.  “The decision is yours, Crowned Princess,” he said displeasingly.  “If you fail to perform this deed by the time the moon wanes, you will be forced to take poison and you will never see the light of day again.” 

He indifferently departed.

The Crowned Princess cried for many days, pondering on the thought that her husband left her.  “Should she commit one sin so that she may live to save many more slaves’ lives, or should she take poison and let destiny decide the will of the slaves?  The hearts of the people in the palace are cruel.  If she does overcome this one hurdle, will it be the last time?”  She found no answer to the never ending questions transcending her mind.

One night, a nightingale landed in a tree outside of the Crowned Princess’ confinement and sang so beautifully that it made her stopped crying.  She stepped outside to search for the nightingale whose sweet love songs reminded her of past fond memories, but instead of finding the bird, she saw a stream of large and sparkling star-like objects brightening the night sky.  As the night breeze blew softly on the objects, they glided in her direction and soon landed all around her.  They were butterfly lanterns, and she cried tears of joy.

Among all of the butterfly lanterns, each carried with it a character that when put together, conveyed a message.  “As the dark night lights up once more, my love will guard you.  Don’t hesitate further.  You won’t have to drink poison.  Just take out my heart.  Before the last day when the dazzling moonlight vanishes, I will wait at the execution ground.”

The Crowned Princess smiled at the impressive light that the beautiful butterfly lanterns brought from the dark.  It was such a splendid sight to allow anyone to dare to hope, and so she seemed to have found the answer to her wavering heart.    

The slave lad waited, but she never came.  By the time he found out, his precious love had already taken poison and been laid to rest.  So no matter how many suns and moons lighted the heavenly sky, he seemed unable to move farther than her tombstone.  Sitting there lifeless—with his tears dried up, and playing her haegeum to tell the story of how the custom that demanded a couple to be of equal social standing had harmed countless innocents.  The butterflies fluttered in pairs and the dragonflies flapped in harmony, but the human lovers endured a tale of unfulfilled love.  The wickedness in the human realm left nothing to be nostalgic about.  It was better to be a companion with the spider than to be torn from one’s soul mate.  Only if she was Pear Blossom and he the noble magistrate with the jade jewel in his topknot, then he would be sure to fish out her straw sandal from the stream and seek for the maiden with whom it belonged to.  Once he found her, he would whisk her into his elegant palanquin and use his life to shower her with love like translucent pearl rain drops on dawn’s first ray of light.  However, he was but a helpless poor slave who could only speak his heart through the melody of her haegeum.  If a next life was possible, he wished to the heavens and earth to bless them with a blissful life, and to receive the most beautiful voice to sing of his love for her. 

            The music of the haegeum resonated heartbreakingly through time and space.  The sun’s ray seemed so dull these many days, but it still blinded him.  He raised his hand into the sky, as if trying to block it from touching her.  

            He drew his hands back and suddenly felt an agonizing punch in his left chest.  He lost consciousness. 

When the warm sunbeam danced merrily upon his face, he slowly opened his eyes and observed that his body was covered under a soft blanket on a wooden floor.  He hurriedly got up and came out of the room to look for anyone who could enlighten him of his whereabouts.  But the house was emptied and quiet, except for the faint sound of a musical instrument that seemed so familiar to his ears.  He unlocked the front door, and stepped outside.  In the distance, he saw a small crowd gathered around a stage where a girl dressed in a hanbok sat at the center, swaying her hands to the beat of a most haunting melody.  Moved by the sorrow of her song, his eyes were fixed gazing at her while his body insentiently moved in her pursuit.  When her eyes caught his, she smiled genially—her facial countenance resembling that of the girl from his dream so very much.  He was flabbergasted.

            Then unexpectedly, he began to sing—complimenting her music harmoniously.  His intervention surprised the audience, and astounded the girl.  It was impossible for a stranger to know to sing so poetically beautiful lyrics to the music that only she has heard in her head?  She had played many tunes from her haegeum, but not this one that was dear to her heart.  The girl was confounded and felt awkward in this unanticipated position.  Her hands began to sweat and trembled. 

She stared at him, mumbling quietly her confusion.  Unable to understand the current situation, her mind went astray and she lost track of the beats of her melody.  Her playing out of tune caused him to sing flat, and the audience began to taunt the two.

            The girl’s music slowly faded out, and he abruptly stopped singing.  Unbeknownst to the haegeum player, he was more shocked of himself and bemused as to how he knew the words to the tune she was playing.

            The girl glared angrily at him, got up, and left.  Upon seeing her departure, he wasted no time and quickly followed her to the home that he came out from.

            “You live here?” he asked stutteringly. 

            “If not, who do you think saved you?” she mocked. 

“Oh…thank you,” he said.  “I really…”

“I don’t get it?” she cut him off.  “Are you a stocker?  Were you awake and eavesdropped to my music during practice?  But how did you know…?” 

            “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he answered shyly with a smile.

            “Of course you don’t.”  She sighed.  “You wouldn’t know that my hero…the love of my life…Lee Joon Hyuk will be coming to Beijing to film a movie,” she said dreamingly.  “Winning that contest was my only chance to get a free ride to Beijing to meet him.  But you have to bust in and ruined everything, so now I can kiss meeting him goodbye.”

            “Lee Joon Hyuk?” he repeated and sneered.  He laughed.  “You don’t need to look for him.  He’s not even good-looking.  You should pay attention to someone handsome like me instead.”

            She laughed jeeringly.  “Are you kidding me?” she said and stroked his head.  “I think you’re a cute younger brother, but you’re not my type.”

To Be Continued...