Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 216

Even so, Wu couldn’t run away from the war forever.
“For me,” Wu began slowly, “What awaits me in China is most likely imprisonment or penalty of
death.”
Sen glanced at him questioningly. “Does the emperor have something against you?”
“I sort of left my position as one of his generals,” Wu announced, his voice betraying him by
wavering. “I’m not really in favor right now.” Then he announced decisively, “I’ll help you lug these back.
I have nothing else to do anyway.”
The monk looked at him for a long moment. “You don’t see enough purpose in your life.” He
ignored Wu’s sputtering and said, “You need to realize what you can do. Start by bringing these scrolls, and
from there you can gain more accomplishments.”
“That doesn’t help,” Wu grumbled. But he shrugged his smaller bundle off his back and handed it
to Sen. “Give me yours.”
✢
The sun beat down on the two travellers and scorched the sand and their skin and left imprints on
their eyelids, shimmering marks that faded in and out as they blinked their eyes. The air was suffocating, as if
they were being boiled alive in the humidity. The bottom of their feet had been rubbed raw from trekking,
a steady plodding as they forced one tired foot in front of the other. Their joints ached, their heads throbbed
and the blisters on their feet sent sharp spikes of pain into their feet very time they took a step. Their
muscles screamed from the strain of holding the scrolls up or dragging them onwards, and their throats were
parched beyond belief. They’d taken to drinking a drop each time to soothe their throats, and all
conversation had been halted due to sheer exhaustion.
Nighttime was just as bad, if not worse. The winds bit at them and turned their exposed, numb
skin into dry flakes that pricked with pain. Sleeping was, oddly enough, an arduous affair, as they were never
certain of whether they’d wake up. If they did, standing to resume walking required tremendous mental and
physical strain.
It was an endless trek, but then—! Then, in the distance, there was a splash of green. Hope
bloomed, simultaneously warm and nerve-wrecking, in Wu’s chest. As they neared it became apparent that
it was not an illusion or a fantasy made up by their rest-deprived minds. The oasis was real, and so was the
food and water that it provided.
They rested and ate and drank with relish, so much that they