September 18, 1931
Bao was running like he never had before. Flashes of red and yellow illuminated the hazy sky, as the deafening roars of artillery propelled his legs to pump faster. If he could just make it to that Manchurian meadow…
One day before...September 17, 1931
Cocka-doodle-do! The warbling rooster’s
cry resounded into the early morning air. On the Li Family Farm, 15-year-old Bao
stirred. The sun peeked out behind the clouds, shining its warm rays onto the
earth below. A wide expanse of yellow-green greeted Bao as he stepped out the
door. Tomorrow would be harvest day, and his family would enjoy a big meal of
eggs, sorghum, and beans. It would be the most we ate in a long time. Even Da
Huang, the family dog, would snack on a share. Breathing in the fresh
Manchurian air, Bao wondered about class with Mr. Wei.
“Oh, no, I’m going to be late!” Bao suddenly
hollered. He opened the farm gate, dashing as fast as he could. “Bye ma! Bye ba!”
He dictated, guiding himself down the familiar path
“Bye, Bao! Come back early!” Called a
groggy Mrs. Li.
The
5-mile-path south to Mr. Wei’s home in a nearby village seemed endless. Mr. Wei
was the local history teacher. Bao always wondered how Korea was annexed by
Japan, as the Yalu River wasn’t too far from his own home in Liaodong. Mr. Wei,
the local village teacher, always refused to answer the question.
“The history behind that is too painful.”
Mr. Wei replied.
Bao ran on the
dirt path in his dusty flats, past great plots of farmland and gentle rolling hills.
Fields had yellowed with harvest season, and trees hung heavy with juicy fruit.
He skidded to a halt in front of his
teacher’s home. To his dismay, Mr. Wei didn’t seem to be present.
“Come in, come in!” Commanded Mrs. Wei.
“Mr. Wei will be back in just in a minute.
In the meantime, please be seated. Would you like some tea, Bao?” Mrs. Wei’s
murmuring almost sounded like a works to a lullaby.
“Yes, please.” Bao responded. He was
feeling exhausted after his 5-mile run to the Wei family home anyways. Mrs. Wei
brought out the simmering liquid from the wooden kitchen. Bao took the cup
gratefully. Upon taking a sip of the drink, his taste buds burst with
enjoyment. The tea quickly traveled en route to his stomach, warming his
insides against the cool Manchurian morning. Bao had almost forgotten his love
for green tea.
As Bao emptied the tea cup, he saw Mr. Wei
appear in the doorway.
“Ah, Bao, sorry for arriving so tardy. I
was conducting business earlier today in Dalian.” Mr. Wei began apologetically.
“Dalian?! That’s 45 kilometers south of
here!” Bao chortled.
“Yes, dear pupil. Let’s get to our lesson
now. We will be studying a classic, The Creation of the Gods…”
3 hours later…
“So, dear disciple, you now know how Danji
charmed her way into King Zhou’s court,” babbled Mr. Wei.
“Yes, I do, teacher. I will see you
tomorrow at noon.” Bao thankfully turned to leave.
“Bao, stay for a moment,” Mr. Wei muttered.
“Yes, teacher?” Bao inquired.
“I have a serious matter to discuss with
you.”
Fearing the worst, Bao wheeled around to face
his teacher, only to see that Mr. Wei’s expression was hard, hard as a stone.
“Please do,” Bao replied uncertainly.
Mr. Wei sighed and muttered, “Bao, you are
one of my brightest students. I want you, and I understand if you refuse, but
would you join me on an espionage mission?”
Bao’s palms started sweating, “W-what mission,
teacher?”
Mr. Wei sighed yet again and began
whispering, “You know the business I was doing early today in Dalian? Well, I
met up with an organization called the Sons of the Dragon. I heard from my
Korean friend, Hwang Beom-Yeo, that a few battalions of the Japanese Kwantung
Army in Korea mysteriously crossed the Yalu River last night.”
Mr. Wei lowered his voice, anxiously
scanning the hilly Manchurian grassland. His voice was so quiet, one could hear
the rustling of the nearby meadow. “The Sons of the Dragon is a resistance
group against crime and Japanese rule. I am in it – so is my wife. We are a
group of Chinese and Korean resistance fighters. Yesterday, our movement
captured a few Japanese Nakajima fighter-bombers. If you agree to join, we will
take off from a local Sons-of-the-Dragon-controlled airfield early tonight, and
land in Baoshanzhen to observe the Kwantung army. The flight will take a little
more than an hour. Are you in?”
Bao thought about the Kwantung Army. But
then he recalled his family and his beautiful homeland. Turning to Mr. Wei, Bao
dictated resolutely, “Yes, I’m in.”
“Perfect, meet me here at sunset tonight,”
Replied Mr. Wei, smiling. As Bao ran home. He thought whether he should tell
his parents about his little adventure-to-be.
“No, I shall not. For they will worry
about me.” The words burst succinctly out of his larynx. No. He would meet Mr.
Wei at sunset.
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