Work Text:
Meng Shi wakes long after the rooster crows, long after her son has already slipped from their room to begin his kitchen chores. She bathed last night before sleep. She bathes again to remove all scent of perfume. She goes downstairs to where A-Yao already has a light meal waiting, rice and a chicken egg and some spicy pickled vegetables. He submits quietly to her fussing. She has a good son.
You should have let me brush your hair this morning,” she says, gesturing for him to turn around.
"It’s fine, mama,” he protests, but he does anyway.
She combs and reties his hair, which is as heavy and straight as hers. Once she cut her hair for the wigmakers to buy A-Yao medicine, in the early days after her delivery when try as she might she could not take men to her bed. The money was just enough, and she was too sick and desperate to save her son to care that they cheated her. Now it has grown again to almost the length it was. When will you cut it again, A-Shi? You do not grow any younger. She pushes aside the thought. They eat breakfast together, while he quietly recites the poetry she has been teaching him, and her heart is full to brimming at how radiant he is.
"That’s not quite correct,” she says gently, instead. “I’ll go through it with you this afternoon, after you finish cleaning the kitchen.”
"Yes, mama,” he says, and bows to her. He is her perfect boy. He deserves the world.
She goes that afternoon to the temple of Guanyin. If she were a younger girl, one of the flowers still in the bloom of spring, they would forbid her to go but – she has a son. He is old enough to start work. They know she will not run.
From the market she buys persimmons and longan. Most of them will go to the goddess; she will save a handful for A-Yao, and perhaps one or two for herself.
The goddess’ temple is a modest size. Everyone is in need of mercy. She has dressed simply, with no perfume or ornaments, and so this time the monks do not turn her away. Meng Shi places her offerings on the altar. Meng Shi kneels.
The bodhisattva is said to quench fires, stop earthquakes, and bring rain. Surely she can do this much for one boy, her little jade, her treasure. Meng Shi clasps her hands and abases herself three times, ignoring the pain in her hips.
Boddhisatva Guanyin, who is merciful. May whatever merits I have accumulated be transferred to my son so that he can achieve a good and prosperous life, she thinks. May his father acknowledge him. May he achieve great recognition and fortune. She pauses. Dull aches twinge up through her spine. May men be kind to him, she thinks unprompted.