#side of

Lena wakes before anyone else on Sunday morning. She’s unusually warm and as she’s about to push off the covers to gain some relief she becomes aware of Kara’s body pressed to her back. The human heater strikes again. They’ve woken like this before. Lena usually wakes before Kara. So, Kara doesn’t know Lena often sinks into her embrace, doesn’t know about the small smile that graces Lena’s face when she tightens her hold. Lena usually puts it down to her sleepy state, or hides behind her belief that this is what best friends are like (Just like at boarding school, it doesn’t matter that she had a crush on her friend. Correlation is not causation ).

Trying her best not to disturb Kara she slips out of bed. She looks back on her way out of the room, unable to resist the picture of Kara now cuddled up with a pillow looking serene.

Lena takes a book out onto the front porch. It’s especially peaceful in the country at dawn. It makes her feel calm, and she enjoys having the morning to herself. She gazes at the landscape as much as she reads until the creak of the screen door announces Eliza’s appearance.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” She asks while picking up the days newspaper.

“Not at all, please.”

“It’s nice out here in the morning huh?”

“Yes, quite,” Lena has an air of reflection about her, “I was just thinking how common it is to sit out on the front porch. A quintessential American experience if you go by media. But it isn’t anything I’ve done before.”

“Really?” Eliza sounds intrigued if not surprised.

“Back porch, yes. Front porch, not really,” she’s more amused than anything. She’s used to laughing at her life.

“Well I’m glad I could be a part of this. I’m sorry I don’t have a rocking chair, that would top it off nicely.”

Lena’s eyes crease in amusement, responds with sarcasm, “I suppose I’ll be alright.”

They get lost in reading easily. It’s a while later when Eliza sort of suddenly puts her paper down, seeming to come to a decision. Lena sees the movement in her periphery and when she looks over Eliza seems determined.

“I’m glad Kara has you.”

It’s not what Lena is expecting, it doesn’t fit the seriousness of Eliza’s face. Cure for cancer, the latest assassination attempt, even questions about Sam’s worthiness maybe, but not something so simple and innocent.

“Your relationship isn’t like any she’s had before. I think she really feels like she can be herself around you, uncensored.”

Lena doesn’t know what to think. Surely Kara feels the same about Eliza, or Alex, or Winn. Then, there’s the dilemma of having spent the weekend lying to Eliza about the nature of her relationship with her daughter. She tries for a neutral answer, one that stuffs down her guilt and the hope that just ignited in her chest. God how pathetic, to get so much validation from a simple sentence .

“That’s nice to hear.” For some reason the comment takes her back to when Kara revealed her alter ego, “That was something she worried about when she told me she was Supergirl. That she couldn’t be herself around me anymore, because I would see her differently, I would see Supergirl. She wanted to make sure I knew she felt like I already knew the real her. She actually thought she was being selfish because she didn’t want to risk that changing by telling me. She was really hard on herself.”

Lena is shaking her head at both Kara’s daftness, and her sincerity. The sting of the reveal is far from faded now.

“Sounds like Kara. She has a tough time with wanting things; feels uncomfortable with it.” Eliza looks intent, “I know you two aren’t dating.”

Lena is thrown again by the direction Eliza takes their conversation. Of course she knew! Eliza is not a dumb woman. Lena is instantly nervous, not wanting to disappoint everyone by giving it up. Do not confirm nor deny. But also she feels unsteady, what exactly is Eliza getting at here, it doesn’t feel like this is just about the fake relationship thing.

“Both my daughters aren’t very good liars. First off, even with her training Alex is an open book when it comes to certain things. Secondly, I was joking when I insinuated you two were dating,” She’s looking off into the distance now, “I suppose it’s my fault we don’t have the type of relationship where she’d pick up on my humor.”

The admission hangs in the air between them for a moment before she continues, Lena allowing her, her regret.

“Then later, when she said you and Kara were coming as a couple I…” Eliza shrugs with a little devilish grin, “went with it. Anyway, my real point is I also know when Kara is NOT lying.”

“What do you mean?”

They both turn at the sound of someone moving around inside. Eliza turns back with a hint or urgency.

“In the interest of not being found out here being a meddling mom, Kara’s very much in love with you. Normally I would keep it to myself, let Kara deal with things at her pace. But, as we just said, she’s not likely to prioritize her wants.”

Flabbergasted is not a word Lena would ever ascribe to herself, but that is exactly what she is.

“I really don't think that's true Eliza. We’re close, share a lot. But it’s all within the bounds of what friends do,” she’s stuttering, brain brain doubting her ears and not connecting with her mouth.

“I really don't mean to insult you by saying this dear, but I think maybe you two are the last people that would know how friends act. I mean, some of the things Kara’s told me. The way she looks at you,” she cocks her head to the side and thins her lips looking doubtful, “And you, well, and again forgive me but you might as well make shirts telling everyone you love Kara.”

Lena has given up on forming words.

The noises inside get louder so Eliza pushes on insistently,  “I think it’s up to you to make it happen though, Kara’s not - ” before she can get the rest of her sentence out Sam comes to the door.

“I thought I heard someone out here! Good morning ladies. Eliza, I have a very grumpy Alex upstairs saying something about needing your “nutty honey” coffee to leave the bed. Do you think you could show me so I can gain girlfriend points?”

“Of course sweetheart be right there,” once Sam is back inside she stands and turns to Lena and gently tells her, “Think about what I’ve said,” (like Lena could think about anything else) , “At least put her out of her misery, because I guarantee you she thinks she’ll lose you if she tells you, and you and I both know that’s not true no matter if you return her feelings.”

Lena sits there alone again, stunned. Simultaneously thinking everything and nothing at once. Eliza thinks Kara is in love with her. She thinks back on their relationship. To having an instant connection. To late nights in the office when Kara would bring her dinner. To leaps she never would have taken without Kara by her side. To this morning. Seeing everything in a new light.

Lena sneaks back inside, not wanting to be stopped she hurries to the stairs. She finds Kara in her bed, laying on her stomach still asleep. Last night comes back to Lena, what if she still feels unwell. Maybe now is not the best time. Holding onto this feels next to impossible though. If Kara does have feelings for her, how did she do it, how did she keep it to herself for so long? Lena’s about to explode and it’s been 10 minutes? Max.

Kara stirs, drawing Lena’s attention. She opens her eyes slowly, a dopey smile spreading across her face at seeing Lena in the doorway.

“Hey you,” her voice comes out groggy, “I can feel you thinking.”

Lena’s heart clenches. Kara’s always been cute, that’s an objective fact, but jesus. Lena’s composure is no match for her disheveled hair, heavy eyes, and shirt that’s been skewed because of the way Kara has lazily turned to face Lena more.

“Hey, how you feeling?” Lena asks as she sits on the edge of the bed, tucking her hands in her lap.

Kara gives a resigned sigh when she thinks of last night.

“Fine, all better.”

Lena obviously has something on her mind. There’s the tiniest crinkle on her brow, she is playing with her thumb ring, biting her bottom lip. She’s silent so long that Kara is getting worried.

“Lee?” Kara pushes herself up onto her elbow and reaches out to place a comforting hand on Lena’s knee, “Really, I’m fine.”

Lena snaps out of it, looking at Kara. The lines across her face smooth out and she lets out a little huff.

“It’s not that,” she put a hand atop Kara’s to assure her, adds in a tender smile pointed at Kara.

What exactly was her plan here? She hasn’t even wrapped her head around everything Eliza just said let alone been able to form her own thoughts. But being told Kara is in love with her? That it appears as if she’s in love with Kara too? - she needs answers. She makes up her mind, she has to be the one to take a risk this time.

She lifts a hand to tuck a loose curl of golden hair back behind Kara’s ear, cupping her jaw and letting it linger before placing it back down on the bed. Kara is giving her the most encouraging look and it’s the push Lena needs.

“Kara I - ” She is cut off by the familiar tone of Kara’s DEO phone.

“Oh shoot! I’m sorry Lena, hold onto that thought,” She leaps off the bed looking around frantically, “I told them emergencies only. So - ” She’s looking under the bed now, “Where did I - "

Lena picks up the phone off the nightstand and clears her throat, “Kara. Here,” she holds it out to a sheepish Kara.

Kara picks up and answers all questions immediately thrown at her in the affirmative and hangs up. It all started and ended in less than a couple minutes and they sit in the sudden stillness of the room, gathering themselves. Lena is staring at the empty space on the bed where Kara was just moments before, her heart rate elevated because of her almost confrontation.

“Gah I’m sorry that startled you. I half forgot I even had the DEO phone here. I’m surprised it hasn’t rung before now honestly.” At Lena’s silence Kara continues, “Um, I need to go,” Lena turns to her with what Kara knows is her fake smile, “But, you were about to say something? It seemed important?”

Lena recovers as smoothly as she always does.

“It’s alright, it can wait. Go save the world, Supergirl.”

It usually makes Kara feel a little giddy when Lena calls her Supergirl like that. Like she has every confidence that Kara will succeed. But it’s said with a touch of melancholy this time and Kara leaves with a weight in her stomach.

"Because," she said as she flipped the page once more. "I know just how hard headed you are. It will take more than the likes of Ruby to get through your thick skull."

Weiss and Ruby tried to stifle their laughter but both failed horribly in their attempts. Yang huffed and turned to lean against the side of Blake's lounge chair, her head resting against Blake's arm. They stayed like that, in silence, with Ruby and Weiss speaking quietly to one another.  Yang relaxed against her girlfriend's side; the pain in her skull subdued for now. Her head dipped as the muscles in the arm supporting her moved to flip a page in the ever important book of the week resting in Blake's lap. Yang found the motion more comforting than annoying, however, to be connected physically while their minds were in two separate places. 

She felt as if she could easily drift off to sleep once more, given the chance.  The thought only reminded her of how rudely she was woken from her previous rest. 

"Ruby?" She spoke loudly. Blake's body jerked in surprise at the sudden noise bringing her back from the fantasy world she'd been immersed in. Ruby and Weiss cut their conversation short to turn in her direction. "Was there a reason you woke me up so rudely or were you just trying to give me a headache?"

"Oh!" Ruby's smile widened. "Yeah, I need your help."

"For?"

"Weiss and I were going to build a sandcastle, but you know how horrible I am at them." Her smile faded slightly at the admission. 

"Weiss is smart, I'm sure she can figure it out."

"Please?"

"Don't be sour just because you were woken from a nap." Blake cut in. "Go help."

Yang tipped her head back to see the small upside down smirk slowly take form. Turning back to her sister she answered. "I'll come help, but only if Blake comes too." She heard Blake's book slam closed. "I'm not going to watch you two annoyingly dance around each other, and pretend you aren't eyeing the other up, on my own."

"Blake?" Ruby turned her pleading eyes from her sister to focus on her new victim.

Blake opened her mouth to respond but Yang cut her off before the refusal could fully take form.

"Come on Blake, don't be sour just because you're getting dragged away from your book. Help us out!"

Throwing her words back at her had the desired effect. She grumbled and probably called Yang some colorful words under her breath, but she agreed. She sprung up from her chair so fast that Yang fell backwards, ribs impacting on the hard metal of the lounge chair. 

"Ow."

"Sandcastles!" Ruby yelled, dragging Weiss to the shore.

"Don't worry!" Yang yelled after them. "I'm fine."

"Come on," Blake called over her shoulder, already following her two friends. Disappointed at the lack of attention her injuries were getting, but knowing further complaints would get her nowhere, Yang stood and marched after them. 

By the time they reached the shore she'd caught up to Blake. It didn't take long to spot her sister as she was already fencing off their work zone. 

"Hey! Can't you see the line and the sticks?" Weiss harshly questioned a six year old that foolishly crossed the line Ruby had just barricaded off. "Ugh," she huffed as the kid just stuck his tongue out at her and ran off. "I think we need some 'no trespassing' signs."

"Where are you planning to get them, Weiss?" Blake asked as they came to stand next to the makeshift border. "Are we permitted to enter?" She asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Yes. Don't be so dramatic."

"That's rich coming from someone who just yelled at a kid for stepping over a stick." Yang commented.

"Excuse me?" Weiss rebutted. "He crossed the very obvious line Ruby spent time in making."

"I'm sur-"

"Stop fighting you two." Blake interrupted, giving Yang a warning look.

"I don't understand why I get that look when she doesn't."

"Don't complain. Weiss has her own girlfriend to admonish her." Yang turned to find her sister just finishing the border with one last piece of driftwood. "Oh, looks like she didn't witness it. Better luck next time." 

Weiss stuck her tongue out at Yang before turning to help Ruby plan out their grit palace.

After the layout and planning Yang was put to work doing more than most of the hard labour as material procuror. She was sure Weiss just made up the title to mess with her. The ‘procurement’ consisted of finding the best sand to continue construction. It couldn’t be too wet or dry and Weiss was not shy about rejecting any ‘product’ that didn’t meet her high standards. Normally Yang would not have stood for it, but the activity was making her sister happy and she really didn’t want to be responsible if the towers fell due to poor quality sand.

After a few hours and plenty of time for Blake and Weiss to get a mild sunburn each they all stood back to observe their masterpiece.  

“Not too shabby.” Yang voiced first, kind of proud of the fragile structure.

“Weiss and my tower is this one.” Ruby claimed, sticking a makeshift flag to the roof carefully.  

“Okay, then this one is ours.” Blake said, stepping forward to run her finger along the roof of the second largest tower.  

Ruby’s hunger made itself known with an audible rumble.  “Come on you Dolt. I told you to have that apple before we came down here to build this. Let’s go get something to eat.” Weiss took Ruby’s hand and led her up the beach to start gathering their things.  

Yang took one last look at their masterpiece, knowing full well that it would not last more than an hour.  Some kid would get just as much joy out of knowing it down as they had building it up.  The tower Blake claimed as theirs stood out to her.  She stepped forward to get a better look and realized Blake had drawn hearts  around the roof of the tower.  

“That’s cute.”

“Not as cute as you.” Blake’s voice drifted over her shoulder.  

Yang turned around and Blake easily slipped into her space, wrapping her arms around Yang’s middle and moulding herself perfectly against her.  Yang returned the embrace as they stood in happy silence.  

Yang took in a sharp breath as Blake found the sensitive spot on her ribs.

“How are your injuries?” She asked softly.

“I’ll live.” Yang responded squeezing Blake tighter, even if it meant putting more pressure on her bruised side. “My ribs are apparently as hard as my skull.”

Blake scoffed. “You know I meant that as a compliment right?”

“Wow, really? I would hate to be on the receiving end of one of your insults.” Yang jokes sarcastically.

Blake pulled back from her embrace, just enough to be able to properly study her face.  Bringing her one hand to gently explore the soft skin of Yang’s forehead, easily finding the protrusion from the earlier impact.  

“Ow, you weren’t exaggerating earlier were you?” Blake asked, voice as gentle as her exploring fingertips. “I’m surprised it’s not more evident to the eyes.”

“I might have exaggerated a little.  It didn't hurt as bad as I let on.”

Smiling, Blake rose on her toes. She placed a gentle lingering kiss over the bump. She stepped back to inspect the possible visible damage to Yang’s side but found it clear of any marks as well.  Her thumb trailed comforting circles along the sensitive flesh of Yang’s exposed ribcage.  

“There are no marks here either,” Blake voiced. “Which is good because it would have ruined the look of your new bikini.  I approve by the way.”

“I assumed by the way you were staring when I was suntanning, before I fell asleep.”

Blake blushed and they both laughed.  Turning they started to make their way to where they’d parked, assuming Ruby and Weiss were already there waiting for them to catch up.  

“It’s a good thing I don’t have any marks.” Yang spoke up after a few moments. 

“Hmm?”

“What would Mr and Mrs Belladonna think if I showed up covered in bruises?”

“They would think you were accident prone: they wouldn’t be wrong.” Blake responded with an amused sigh. “Besides I could cover you in bruises now and they would still all disappear before our trip to Menagerie.”

“Why Miss Belladonna, are you saying you want to mark on me?” Blake’s jaw dropped. Her arm reflexively jolted out to smack Yang’s arm. “I didn’t hear you deny it and to be quite honest I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“You’re impossible!” Blake exclaimed.

“That’s why you love me.” Yang teased.

Part I: Luck

Characters

Yao Wong - China Chun-Yan Lieng - OC Yao’s mom Lei Wong - OC Yao’s dad Dong- OC

Chapter 1: The Deep Bay

春季到来绿满窗， 大姑娘窗下绣鸳鸯。 忽然一阵无情棒， 打得鸳鸯各一旁。

Spring comes and the window fills with green A maiden sits by the window embroidering a pair of mandarin ducks Suddenly, a heartless blow Splits the ducks in two

***

August, 1957

Inhaling the cold salty air sharply, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the times when he was younger, much younger than he is now, and when he would take his rusty bike with his friends down the dirt road from his grade school to the estuary nearby that connected to this very bay he stood in front of, to the wider ocean that was unknown to him.

Hau Hoi Wan was what they called this bay - the Back Bay - and for quite some time, the man had always been envious of the fishermen on there long narrow boats on the sea, steadying themselves as they would toss a long nets made of intricately tied ropes, hauling in fish. He would rather sit on a boat all day than work in the rice fields his family owned in the small village of Jinqiu that was much further away from the coolness of the ocean and consumed by the heat of the sun.

The man was looking at the same body of water that he would stare out at as a young student- however, he stared at the dark waters in front of him with fear and dread rather than with the wonder and anticipation he would have had. He glanced ahead at the darkness that laid before him, no sight of land to be seen. The reflection of the moon could be seen rippled on the water that was far from still, and as he glanced up to the ink black night sky freckled with a few heavy clouds rolling in the distance, he wanted to remain static in this moment.

He wanted to go back home. He wanted to turn around and traverse back to Jinqiu, not caring that it would take him another week by walking to get there. He wanted to see his Mama again, even though at this point, she is nothing more than skins and bones.

Alas, he knew he had nothing left to turn back to. He had no future here, either in Jinqiu or anywhere in the province of Guangdong. His Baba was likely dead at this point, and his Mama- his poor, lovely Mama- was laying on her deathbed at home, painfully dying from pneumonia under the watchful eye of the village women.

He glanced back to the village that was a few meters away from the shore, and saw the flickering flames of the lanterns within the small stick huts die slowly, one by one.

This is the last time he would be in China. The last thing he’ll see is Shenzhen- this poor, tiny village that he watched silently. In the next four hours, he’ll either be a dead floating body in the bay, or he would have made it to the shores of Hong Kong safely.

“Yao,” a low, steady tone, drew the man’s attention away from the lanterns to the side.

He had travelled from their tiny village to the village to Shenzhen with a few other men around his age with the same goal he had- to leave China and make it Hong Kong in one piece.

Had travel not been restricted between Hong Kong and China, they would not have to resort to swimming across the Back Bay in order to get to the old British colony. It was the only way- there was no Hong Kong patrols in the bay, and it was better than attempting to be smuggled through a boat where they would be grave consequences for being caught.

The man who he knew as Dong, a close family friend who was few years older than Yao, and who had promised his mother that he would accompany Yao to Hong Kong. Dong had been planning on doing this since the first wave of soldiers marched through their village, gathering all the men who were considered to be rightist by the government standards.

Yao’s dad, Wong Lei, was one of those men. Along with Dong’s father, they rushed them into a military van, whisking them away after causing further chaos by burning the a few of the crops of land the village owned.

Chun-Yan, Yao’s mother, had begged Dong to take Yao to Hong Kong with him in order to escape the potentially devastating fate that may befell him if he continued to live in Guangdong. She specifically wanted him to go to Un Long Town, a town in the innerland that was a popular place that Chinese mainlanders aim to land according to the bandit Dong had arranged this journey with. This town was where Yao knew his aunt, his mother’s younger sister, Lieng Chun-Yi, lived with her three children, and he knew that they were the only ones he could turn to for solace.

Yao did not trust the bandit in the least, with his unkempt short hair and short beard that was unusual for young men to wear, and the sinister look in his beady eyes as he accepted the payment from Dong. Yao, however, did trust Dong, and as long as he was beside him in this journey, he knew he would be safe.

He hoped he would be safe.

“Come what may, I’ll be by your side,” Dong said, narrow eyes maintaining eye contact with Yao’s, making the latter even more uneasy than he already was. “I promised Auntie Liang to take you to your aunt safely.”

Yao simply nodded, not knowing what to say and took one last look at the village, longingly. He had accepted that there was no home to turn back to. He took a step forward, his bare feet tipping into the cold water, sending goosebumps throughout his body.

His mind blanked, the light splashing of legs running towards the water could be heard as he slowly walked forward, fear leaving his body.

“From the end of the world, to the farthest sea I searched for my heart's partner A young girl sings, while he accompanies her on the instrument Our love through the hard times is deep indeed Oh, our love through the difficult times is deep”

One of Yao’s earliest memory of his younger days was hearing this song playing on the small radio their family owned, on a warm spring day. His mother was making their afternoon meal, sitting on the floor of their kitchen as she washed the rice in a bowl, while Yao was staring out from the open door to their flat yard, his legs swaying idly to the song. He was likely waiting for his father to return from the rice fields, but the details were vague.

He knew he had loved this particular song, with the tune being oh too familiar. His mother always hummed this particular song to herself as she went about her family chores, and when she would try to lull Yao to sleep.

When he first heard the song on the radio, albeit the reception they received from their village was terribly, with the static interfering here and there, he instantly fell in love with the singer, with the way her words flowed out in a high voice, and with the beautiful erhu that accompanied her throughout the song.

“The song is called ‘The Wandering Songstress’,” Chun-Yan said after the song had finished and Yao had questioned her about it. Yao sat in front of her, staring, as she continued to shift the rice through the water. Her thick black hair was pulled back into a bun, a scarf pushing back her stray hairs, and yet, she still looked young for her age. “Zhou Xuan is the singer.”

Chun-Yan continued, her warm brown eyes glazing over as if she were looking into a far distant. “She released this song the year you were born. She was quite a doll in Street Angel! If only I had a photo of her to show you- your father and I used to watch her movies whenever we went to Guangzhi.”

Yao only half cared about the latter information, not caring much for the trivial affairs of his parents, but the name Zhou Xuan was imprinted in his mind, and the song in association. The singer was further imprinted after his mother showed him a torn photograph of the singer that she had kept for quite some time, Yao instantly falling in love with the singer’s entire being.

Even now as an adult, listening to Zhou Xuan’s voice puts his mind at ease, wrapping his body in the warmth and happiness of a lover’s want and affair. Oddily, however, hearing the song filled him with safety as well. It was the safety of his mother that he sensed in the song, who he could still sometimes hear her soft voice singing and humming the song, even though she has stopped doing ever since she fell ill.

But as he swam through the cold waters in front of him, the cold air filling his lungs causing a distinct pain and his body feeling numb, he repeated the song in his head, in his mother’s voice.

“Looking north from my mountain nest My tears fall and wet my blouse Missing him, I will not rest Only love that lasts through hard time is true”

And he kept going. 

And going.

 And going.

Mao Zedong, chairman of the Communist Party of China, formally gained power on October 1st, 1949. Not only did Yao have this memorized in head from the yearly military marches that would be broadcasted in the village leaders television and every villager would clamour around to witness the black and white images play in front of them with wide eyes, but he would constantly be reminded of this fact due to him being born on October 1st as well.

Yao was born in the year 1937, a few months after the first attack by the Japanese in Peking, preluding the Second Sino-Japanese War and allowing Japanese occupation that lasted well until the fall of 1945. These parts of history have always been drilled in Yao’s head, from his lessons at his school to what his father would vividly recount to him, even though they were relatively safe from most of the conflicts that occured. Though, as luck may have it, they were never apart of the conflict zone or targets of incidents with the Japanese army, and Yao’s life during the war was nothing more than a blur of various colourful parts of the village.

Wong Lei had always supported the Communist Party- as a farmer in a village forgotten by the state, they fought for the poor and forgotten of China. Yao remembers hiding behind the wall separating the living room to the kitchen, snippets of fuzzy discussions of support from men during the civil war, drinking from small clay cups while Chun-Yan would bring in a fresh pot of tea. Most had supported Chairman Mao and wanted the KMT gone.

“He is for the people,” the men would say, a slogan that stuck with the CPC in the public’s mind, and would be carried when Chairman Mao proclaimed that their nation was now the People’s Republic of China.

Until after his election, however, they started to have complex feelings about how he handled the situation in China. Closed borders and lack of resources affected the village much more than what they expected to be. Censorship was the main issue with Yao’s father, who was a man of many opinions and have the skills to sway anyone who cared to listen to him talk. And in their village, there were plenty of people willing to listen.

He could have been a scholarly man, Chun-Yan had told Yao. He could have went to university if he wanted to, with a strong personality and the willingness to learn and write of many topics, especially in politics. Yao has seen his collection of books and papers that were tucked away in the corner of the house, layered in dust due to neglect.

Yao admired his father for his opinions. He admired that he stood up for what he believed in.

His opinions caused his own downfall, alas.

It had happened so fast. The day was like any other July day, the sun high and bright, the trees swaying to the light wind as wind chimes could be heard from the distance. Yao was pulling water from the well on the outskirts of the village and was walking up the dirt path towards home when he heard distant yelling and cries.

He walked to his house to find a hanful of men in the green uniforms with guns in their hands, ready to hurt anyone who interfered.

"Wong Lei," a man who stood taller than the rest of the soldiers, with his red sash and medals that signified he was of higher rank, barked out as two soldiers held Yao's father between them, nearly dragging his legs through the dirt. "You are under arrest for cultivating a rightist movement against the government of the People's Republic of China."

Yao couldn't do anything other than sneak into his house to find his mother on the ground, sobbing and alone, but unharmed. The house was a mess, with the table being flipped over, and his father's books ripped up and splayed across the floor.

Within a blink of an eye, they left, with other men who they claimed to be rightists, and thus a threat to the government. Yao never heard from his father again.

From the rumours that surrounded this campaign the government is holding, his father would be in a camp either working as a hard labourer or dead.

For his father’s sake, Yao had hoped that he was executed. His spirit would be liberated from the shackles of this world, and he could live eternally in the peace he could not receive while alive.

NOTES:

Yao Wang -> Yao Wong Due to Yao originating from the southern province of Guangdong in China, where there are alot of native Cantonese speakers, I changed his last name to the Cantonese equivalent

The Anti-Rightist Campaign was a reaction by Mao against the Hundred Flowers Campaign (which was also controlled by Mao's government in order to encourage citizens to openly express their opinions on the government). The campaign was to arrest and persecute "rightists" (vague, but those who may favour capitalism). The first wave was in July 1957.

Jinqiu is a fictional village further from the capital city of Guangzhou, most likely near where modern Duangguan is

The Back Bay is the literal translation for the Shenzhen Bay (or Deep Bay)

Zhou Xuan She was a Chinese singer and actress during the early 1930s till her death in September 1957. Her career was mostly in Shanghai, and gained prominence by the 1940s. The first stanza at the beginning is from her song "Song of the Four Seasons", which appeared in the 1937 movie "Street Angel" where her other song mentionned, "The Wandering Songstress" also makes an appearance. Her songs and her character is a theme in this story because I think Yao in this story would idolize her.

The Continental Hotel mentioned in the summary will make an appearance in Part 2, but it was basically a lounge in Toronto's old Chinatown during the 1950s-1960s where lesbians would hang out. Since Canada had restricted Chinese immigration, Chinese male workers were mostly 'bachelors', and a lot of them would go to The Continental Hotel to basically form relationships with these women (whether sexual or platonic)