Historical epic - Communist Revolution in rural China
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Chapter 1 - August 1901, Hubei Province, China
"Give me 100 chickens and 200 eggs," growled the soldier.
The slight girl behind the counter of the poultry shop stared at the man but didn't reply. He was a lieutenant of Warlord Gu, and he was a giant, not simply in height but in every dimension. Awed by the man's appearance, the girl thought of the great bull buffalo that lazed in the river and helped with the burden of preparing the rice paddies. His thick coarse skin was like the hide of an animal, and his chest bulged with muscle.
"What did you say?" The girl, her voice sounding like the chirping of a songbird, had been too absorbed in the soldier's appearance to pay attention to his words.
"One hundred chickens and 200 eggs," he repeated, speaking each word distinctly, wondering if perhaps the girl didn't possess all her wits. "Can you fill the order?" The soldier fingered a leather pouch that hung around a neck thick as a tree trunk. "Silver," he assured her, shaking the pouch to let the coins jangle dully against one another. "My master pays in silver and he pays well." Warlord Gu could well afford to pay. He'd accumulated considerable wealth by taxing residents of the lands he controlled, and looting residents of the lands he didn't.
The soldier observed the girl's gaze traveling the height of his figure and found himself examining her no less intently. He was a gruff man, but not unintelligent. After all, he'd risen above his peers to the rank of lieutenant. Still, his knowledge and experience were limited to the world of soldiering. The little beauty on the other side of the counter was someone apart from that world. And the lieutenant felt himself fumbling. In battle, he was supremely confident; with a girl in a poultry shop, less so.
The girl's name was Flying Squirrel and she had just celebrated her 15th birthday. If one looked beyond the blood-soiled work robe and dirty face, she was indeed a beauty, with skin white and soft as powdered pearl. Her hair was long as the strands of silk drawn from a cocoon and black as rocks of coal. The lieutenant imagined the girl's blossoming form hidden beneath the robe.
There's a reason why a child isn't named until one moon cycle after its birth. Time is needed to understand the nature of the new being. Everyone agreed that this girl's name had been well chosen. Like the creature that flew from one tree limb to another, she jumped quickly and fearlessly towards whatever attracted her spirit. Owls consider, but flying squirrels leap first and think later.
Flying Squirrel's mother, Mrs Chen, was the owner of the poultry shop. There were other poultry shops in town. But if you asked anyone where to buy fowl, you'd be told to visit Mrs Chen's. The woman had an eye for the juiciest birds. Several mornings a week, she'd set out early to visit farms in the surrounding countryside and return a few hours later driving a cart piled high with wicker baskets of squawking birds. She was fortunate to have a daughter who could mind the store while she was away. It didn't occur to Mrs. Chen to wonder who would mind her daughter.
Flying Squirrel had begun to sweat. It was more than just the warmth of late morning. An odd spirit had entered her body; a pleasant but insistent dizziness. She'd not experienced this feeling in the presence of the boys in town, not the pale students of Teacher Li, not the dim farmers hauling produce, and not even the son of the wealthy cloth merchant to whom she'd been promised. Especially not the son of the cloth merchant. She loathed the pimply young man. She hadn't even been consulted about the match until after the contract had been signed. Her mother had negotiated an astonishing bride price.
"You do sell chickens?" the lieutenant asked the girl, wondering if he'd made some sort of mistake.
Flying Squirrel spoke as if addressing a lunatic. "It's a poultry shop, isn't it?" Her fever hadn't dulled the sharpness of her tongue.