Serenity (eBook)

Whispers of the Bamboo Grove

Ed Agasa (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
68 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-103490-7 (ISBN)

Infos

In the serene village of Lìliàng, gifted weaver Mei and poetic farmer's son Jun defy tradition with a forbidden love.

Forced apart by duty, they flee to the relentless metropolis of Wěidà City, where they are crushed by factory labour and the soul-eroding pace of modern life.

Their love is tested by poverty and alienation until they dare to reclaim their identities through craft.

This poignant, lyrical romance speaks to the heart of modern China-a timeless reminder that the most resilient future is woven from both heritage and courage, like bamboo that bends but never breaks.

Textauszug

Chapter 1: The Lantern's Whisper

 

 

The village of Lìliàng came alive under the glow of a thousand lanterns, their amber light swaying like stars caught in the arms of the night. The Festival of Lanterns had begun, a celebration of the harvest gods who blessed the rice fields and the ancestors who whispered wisdom through the bamboo groves. The air hummed with the scent of jasmine and roasted maize, mingling with the rhythmic beat of drums that pulsed like the village’s heartbeat.

For Mei, standing at the edge of the festival square, it was a night woven with possibility and peril. Her fingers traced the edges of her shawl, a tapestry of blue and gold threads she had spent weeks crafting. Each knot held a story—of rivers that carved the earth, of moons that guided weary travellers. Her mother had taught her to weave as a child, saying the loom was a woman’s voice when words were forbidden. But tonight, Mei’s heart was not in the prayers or the dances that filled the square. It was drawn to the forbidden, to the soft cadence of a voice she’d heard by the river days ago, reciting poetry that stirred her soul.

“Is it the lanterns that hold your gaze, or something else?” a voice asked, warm and teasing, pulling her from her thoughts.

Mei turned, her breath catching as she met the eyes of Jun. He stood tall, his dark linen tunic blending into the night, a scroll tucked under his arm. His eyes, dark and deep as the river at dusk, held a spark of mischief that made her pulse quicken. Everyone in Lìliàng knew Jun— son of a farmer, poet of the village, and betrothed to Lila, the elder’s daughter. His marriage would bind two powerful families, a union as unyielding as the traditions that governed their lives.

“The lanterns,” Mei replied, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “They’re brighter than the stars tonight.”

Jun stepped closer, his smile soft but daring. “And yet your shawl outshines them all. It’s like a story told in thread.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she looked away, pretending to study the dancers twirling in the square, their skirts flaring like petals in the wind. “You shouldn’t say such things,” she said, her tone light but firm. “Not to me.”

“Why not?” Jun’s voice was low, a challenge wrapped in velvet. “Because the elders would frown? Or because you’re afraid of what it might mean?”

Mei’s eyes snapped back to his, a spark of defiance igniting within her. “I’m not afraid,” she said, though her heart raced as if it could outrun the rules that bound them. “But you’re promised to Lila. Words like yours… they’re a risk we can’t afford.”

Jun’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the festival’s clamour faded—the drums, the laughter, the clink of clay cups. “Words are my freedom,” he said. “They’re the only way I can speak what’s true. Would you take that from me?”

Mei wanted to argue, to remind him of the consequences, but his sincerity stopped her. She knew the weight of tradition, how it pressed dreams into shapes that fit the village’s mould. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind: A woman weaves the future, not her own desires. Yet, standing here with Jun, Mei felt the threads of her life loosening, as if she could weave a new pattern, one where her heart had a voice.

“Read me something,” she said suddenly, surprising herself. “One of your poems.”

Jun’s eyes widened, then warmed with a light that made her chest ache. He unrolled his scroll, his fingers gentle, as if the words were fragile as petals. “This one,” he said, “is about the grove.”

His voice flowed like the river, steady yet tender, each word painting a world of swaying bamboo and whispered secrets. Mei closed her eyes, letting the poetry carry her to a place where the village’s rules could not reach. The grove, he said, was a sanctuary for dreams, where lovers met under the cover of night, their promises carried by the wind.

When he finished, silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Mei opened her eyes to find Jun watching her, his expression unguarded.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “that you’re weaving something more dangerous than my shawl.”

Jun’s laugh was soft, but before he could reply, a shout cut through the night.

“Jun! The elder calls you!”

It was Lila’s brother, his voice sharp with authority, his silhouette looming in the lantern light. The moment shattered. Jun’s shoulders stiffened, and Mei stepped back, the weight of reality settling like dust.

“Go,” she said, turning away, her fingers clutching her shawl. “Your future waits.”

As Jun walked toward the square, Mei stood rooted, the lanterns swaying above her, their light flickering like her resolve. The bamboo grove whispered in the distance, calling her back to a place where dreams dared to grow. She knew this was only the beginning, that the festival had lit a spark that could burn through the rules of Lìliàng, and that her story with Jun— dangerous, forbidden, beautiful—had only just begun.

Mei watched Jun’s figure retreat into the throng of dancers and revellers, swallowed by the very traditions that sought to claim him. The warmth that had bloomed in her chest during his poem now cooled into a hard, anxious knot. Lila’s brother, a broad-shouldered young man named Tao, shot a suspicious glance in her direction before turning to follow Jun. Mei quickly looked down, pretending to be utterly fascinated by the pattern of her shawl.

The festival’s joy now felt distant, the music a dissonant clamour against the sudden silence in her soul. She needed to move, to escape the weight of Tao’s gaze. She drifted away from the main square, towards the quieter stalls lining the periphery, where older villagers sold sweet rice cakes and intricate paper charms.

“Mei! There you are!”

The voice, familiar and sharp, cut through her thoughts. Her aunt, Shu, emerged from behind a stall hung with embroidered handkerchiefs, her arms laden with bolts of undyed silk. Shu was a pillar of the village weaving cooperative, a woman whose skill was matched only by her strict adherence to propriety.

“You look flushed, child,” Aunt Shu said, her keen eyes missing nothing. “Have you been dancing? I hope not with any of the Lin boys; their family has not yet settled their debt to the miller.” She asked, adjusting the silk in her arms. “A woman’s comportment is her currency. Remember that.”

“No, Auntie. Just… watching the lanterns,” Mei murmured, her voice feeling like a betrayal to the secret she now carried.

“Good. Come, help me. My hands are full, and your mother is waiting at the shrine to make the ancestral offering. She sent me to find you.” Aunt Shu thrust one of the silk bolts into Mei’s arms without waiting for a reply.

The walk to the ancestral shrine was a silent lesson in duty. Aunt Shu listed the eligible young men of the village, her commentary a running ledger of social standing, land ownership, and family reputation. “...and of course, young Master Jun,” Aunt Shu said, and Mei’s heart stuttered. “A tragic case, really. His poetry is frivolous, but his family’s land borders the Li family’s orchards. His marriage to Lila will create the largest plot in the valley. A smart match. A necessary one. It will secure everyone’s future.”

Each word was a needle, pricking Mei’s hope. She saw her mother then, standing serenely before the small stone shrine adorned with offerings of fruit and incense. Her mother’s hands, weathered from a lifetime at the loom, were clasped in prayer. She turned and offered Mei a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach her worried eyes.

“You are late, my daughter,” she said softly, taking the silk from Mei. “The ancestors do not like to be kept waiting.” She laid the bolt of silk beside a basket of ripe persimmons—an offering for a bountiful harvest and, though unspoken, a prayer for a stable future for her daughter.

As her mother began the low, chanting prayer, Mei tried to focus on the names of grandparents and great-grandparents she had never known. But her mind kept returning to Jun’s voice, to the dangerous beauty of his words about the bamboo grove. She looked at her mother’s profile, etched with lines of quiet resignation, and a cold fear trickled down her spine. Was this to be her fate? To end up at this shrine, offering silks she wove to ancestors she didn’t know, praying for a future that had been chosen for her?

The ceremony ended. Her mother touched her cheek. “You are quiet tonight, Mei.”

“I have much on my mind, Mother. The… the new pattern for the Elder’s wife. It is complex.”

It was a half-truth, and her mother, whose life was built on the unspoken, seemed to sense the evasion. She studied Mei for a long moment. “The loom does not lie, daughter. It reveals the heart of the weaver. Ensure your heart is calm and your pattern is clear.” The warning was gentle, but it was a warning nonetheless.

Jun’s heart hammered against his ribs, a wild, frantic drumbeat entirely out of sync with the festival’s rhythm. The scroll in his hand felt suddenly heavy, not like a sheaf of poems but like a stone tablet inscribed with his own recklessness. The ghost of Mei’s scent—a mix of star jasmine and loom oil—still clung to him, a haunting reminder of the moment of freedom he’d just stolen.

“The elder does not appreciate being kept waiting,” Tao said, his voice a low grumble as he...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.8.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-103490-1 / 0001034901
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-103490-7 / 9780001034907