Shao Ling

The warm glow of sunlight pried Shao Ling from the grip of sleep. His eyelids fluttered before slowly opening. They felt as heavy as an anvil, but Shao Ling barely noticed. What he noticed was something missing. That something was pain, which had been his constant companion for the last four years.

A gasp, followed by garbled shouting, let Shao Ling know that he had company. Shao Ling opened his eyes, and was met with shock like a hammer-blow to the stomach.

The plastic tubes and machines that had become an intrinsic part of Shao Ling's existence were nowhere to be seen. His feeble limbs felt heavy and numb from disuse, and his head ached like it had been smacked with a brick the night before; however, Shao Ling felt as healthy as an ox compared to the night before. He took a deep breath, his first breath without a respirator in what felt like a century. It brought his throat some discomfort, but in that moment Shao Ling couldn't care less. Shao Ling glanced at his surroundings. As soon as his mind was able to get past the shock of his body's condition, Shao Ling received another surprise.

The soulless, white walls of the hospital ward had been replaced with stone-brick walls adorned with vibrant tapestries depicting animals and flowers, and his hard, narrow cot had been exchanged for a soft, spacious bed with an elegant wooden canopy with geometric patterns carved into it.

The person who had shouted was a strikingly tall middle-aged woman with a lined face and hair flawlessly held in place by a tight bun. She gave the impression of a strict schoolteacher.

Whatever happened to hospital etiquette? Shao Ling thought, before realizing the ridiculousness of that. He'd spent more than enough time in a hospital to recognize that wherever he was wasn't a hospital.

Upon further inspection of the teacherlike woman, she was wearing a plain-looking beige dress that looked like it came out of the Han dynasty. But more conspicuous than that, was the fact that she was looking at Shao Ling with what seemed like a mixture of relief, joy, and shock; however, Shao Ling was certain that he'd never met this woman in his life, and he was keenly aware that most people don't care too deeply about a dying stranger.

"Who-" Shao Ling braced himself for the inevitable pain as he began to speak, but stopped after a single word out of incredulity. Although his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara desert, with that single word he felt more comfortable talking than he had felt in months.

The teacherlike woman smiled as he spoke, as if he had just informed her that she had won the lottery, and spoke excitedly in response.

However, although Shao Ling could hear the words she was saying, and the pronunciation sounded vaguely similar to Chinese, he couldn't understand a word of what she said.

Shao Ling gathered the saliva in his mouth and swallowed in an attempt to relieve his parched throat. Seeing this, the teacherlike woman swiftly picked up a clay pitcher from a nearby nightstand and poured its contents into a small clay cup, before bringing it to Shao Ling's lips. As the cool liquid entered his mouth, Shao Ling eagerly drank the water, which washed over his dry throat like a rainstorm watering a droughted plain. The water tasted more refreshing than anything he'd ever drunk in his life.

After a few cautious sips, Shao Ling felt his body could handle it and gulped the rest down.

"Thank you," he said after the cup was withdrawn from his lips.

The woman smiled at him. If one were to look at her, she seemed like the serious type who rarely smiles. The frown lines on her face vastly outnumbered her faint smile lines; yet, since Shao Ling met her, this woman had been smiling for nearly the entire time.

"I appreciate your kindness, but who are you? And where am I?"

In most circumstances, waking up in a strange place would be cause for alarm, but to Shao Ling, who was still basking in his improved health, it was a minor concern.

The woman spoke gently with a smile, but Shao Ling was unable to comprehend any of her words.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand you. Do you speak any Chinese? Or English?"

The woman's smile faltered a bit, and it was clear to Shao Ling that she didn't understand him either. She began speaking to him once more, still gently, as if talking to a young child. Although Shao Ling couldn't understand her, he didn't interrupt her because it was clear that she cared about him a great deal for some reason. Her eyes grew misty as she continued to talk, and Shao Ling was moved that this woman he had never met would care for him to the point of tears. He remained silent as she spoke in a warm, calming voice, like tea with honey.

Shao Ling wasn't sure how long the woman spoke for, but she kept on talking to him with very few breaks. Her voice had a slow cadance that was pleasant to listen to even without understanding her words. Although he couldn't decipher her speech, Shao Ling easily understood the warmth and love the woman was conveying to him.

Suddenly Shao Ling heard hurried footsteps in the hall, followed by a scholarly-looking man in a black robe sweeping into the room. He had sharp features, towering height, and a long, narrow beard and moustache.

His gaze instantly locked onto Shao Ling.

"Shao Ling!"