When the Dawn Comes

Madame Zheng's gaze travelled unseeingly past her and Suzhen realized she was watching something behind her, in fascinated horror. Turning, she saw a woman bending over the fallen beam, the last sparks fizzling out faintly. A man's torso emerged from under the beam--one of the bandits who had been trapped under it--and he jerked spasmodically, face spattered with blood, as the woman drove a short hunting knife into him over and over again in a paroxysm of rage and terror. Her screams shook the air, a breathless, wordless cry of grief and hatred.

"It's Chuyi," Madame Zheng whispered faintly. "Her husband's dead."

Suzhen followed her gaze to one of the motionless bodies on the floor, and she looked away as she saw the contorted features of XiaoYao the basketweaver. Her heart gave a sudden sharp throb. The wild, horrible sound of Chuyi's screams, hoarse and ragged, seemed to pierce through her.

Shaking her head to get rid of the uneasiness hanging on her, she started as she felt a hand on her elbow, and turned to see Xuxian. "Susu, how is it?"

"I've only seen two people so far," she had to admit, feeling woefully inadequate as she saw his expectant face. "Madame Zheng has a deep gash on her forehead, but it seems to have stopped bleeding after I bound it up."

He took the roll of bandages from her. "I'm out of bandages. No matter. Susu, I think it's more important that you go back. Start the fire and boil some water for tea. They can't sit out here in the

cold, even if their homes are destroyed. Bring in the elderly and children who have no place to go, until we sort things out and find a place for them to sleep. Liang Guo and Madame Liang will help us. I've spoken to them."

He hurried away. Suzhen watched him go, then took Madame Zheng's arm firmly, pulling her up. "Come on. You heard what Xuxian said. We can't stay out here in the snow any longer. Help me make the fire and get them to come in." She gestured at the people huddling on the ground.

Madame Zheng nodded slowly and followed her.

It was easier to make tea and pass out scalding cups to the people trailing in, than to bandage wounds and see the thin line between death and life.

"Put a few more stools over there for the old folks. Tell the children to sit together over here." Suzhen called to Madame Zheng. She crouched among the children huddling in the corner, their faces smudged with tears, silent and wide-eyed.

"Don't cry," she soothed, trying to wipe the stains away from a small girl's chubby cheeks. The child's lips trembled. "I want my niang," she faltered, and as if their tongues had suddenly been loosened by magic the other children set up a thin wail of, "Niang--I want my niang--"

"Your parents are coming for you," she promised frantically. "Don't cry, you'll see them very soon--you just need to wait here for them--they'll definitely come for you!"

Tirelessly repeating those lines, she wondered briefly for how many of them it would prove to be a lie, and immediately wished she hadn't.

Helplessly, Suzhen tried to comfort them as they broke into tears, refusing to be comforted. They had been separated from their parents during the scuffle; some went to their homes only to find them on fire, and wandered around, crying desolately, or hid wherever they could find.

On impulse, she rummaged in one of her drawers and pulled out a knotted handkerchief. There were a few sweetmeats she had left from the last time Xuxian bought her some from town.

She fumbled with the handkerchief and held up a sweetmeat for them to see. The children paused briefly in their crying, their attention arrested.

"See, if you stop crying you get to suck on this. But you must promise not to cry, or else you might choke. Eat it quietly and wait for your parents to come, all right?"

They nodded, wide-eyed, and sat sniffing softly with a few last hiccupy sobs, the tears and mucus still running down their face.

She popped the sweetmeats into their open mouths and they sat there quietly sucking on it, their lips folded firmly. Suzhen breathed a long breath of relief and watched them silently for a while, feeling a pang of heartache.

She heard her name being called and turned to see Xuxian at the doorway, leading in Granny Hong, while Liang Guo and Madame Liang came in quietly behind him. Liang Guo was limping, and Madame Liang, looking red-eyed but calm, was supporting him. Huajun appeared as well, a smudge of dried blood on her cheek but otherwise unharmed, her cudgel still stuck in her belt, gingerly leading Chuyi by the elbow.

They had finally managed to persuade her to let go of the knife and leave the bandit's body alone, by saying her child's name, and telling her that her son was waiting for her. She had followed them obediently, walking like a sleepwalker.

The people made way for her respectfully, glancing silently at the blood spattered on her face, hands, tunic. Huajun murmured reassuringly to her, propelling her through the people huddled on the ground.

"Yuanyuan is over there, waiting for you. Go on." She gave her a little push forward and called, "Yuanyuan, your niang is here for you!"

One of the children looked up quickly, and his face twisted instantly as he recognized his mother. With a wail of relief, he scrambled up and ran towards her with his arms outstretched.

Chuyi caught him tightly in her arms, so tightly she lost her balance and sat down clumsily. She did not cry--not yet--but she squeezed him so fiercely the child cried out in pain, and gathering him up as if he was a bundle of laundry, she retreated into a corner, rocking him on her lap wordlessly as he sobbed.

Suzhen gave a sigh of relief, only to realize the other children were looking expectantly at her, lips starting to tremble again despite the sweetmeat bulging in their cheeks. The sight of someone else finding their mother was enough to set them off again. She hurriedly tried to console them.

"Let us take account for everyone," Xuxian said authoritatively, and the heads turned towards him instinctively. "Take note of who's missing here. We must search for them, in case there's anyone lying wounded somewhere who needs help."

He did not mention the other possibility, because there was no need for it--the awareness of death hung heavily over them.

There was a murmur of agreement and the people started to turn to each other, discussing, looking searchingly around for their loved ones with fearful hope and unspoken dread in their eyes.

"The holy man's not here," faltered Granny Hong's voice. The firelight flickered on her upturned face, carving the wrinkles on it deeper with shadows. "He went to meditate on the mountains last night, and he hasn't been back since. Could he have met them on his way?"

There were anxious mutterings and Xuxian's brows knitted. "Scoundrels, killing even a holy man like him," sighed Madame Liang.

Suzhen looked out of the window. The darkness of the night sky had started to change. A line of light was slowly creeping across it, and the ghost of the moon had faded away. The dawn was coming, after all, no matter how bloody or violent the night had been.

She thought of the monk's stern face, and wondered if she was happy to hear that he might have died at the hands of the bandits. If anything, this ought to have brought her relief. But looking at the faces of the villagers around her, she could only feel compassion; death had been too close, too raw, too recent, to be any cause of rejoicing right now.

"My husband."

A new voice suddenly cut through the others, and the hut fell silent abruptly.

Zheng Ziyi stood up slowly, emerging from the shadows as if they were dark waters she had risen out of. In the crisis of the moment, her features seemed to have regained a stark, gaunt beauty despite the paleness of her face and the strain staring out of her eyes.

"My husband is missing," she repeated. "Haoran--I couldn't find him anywhere."