The petal on the Seal

The dust outside was bigger now. Inside the hall, petals kept blowing in through open doors and landing around Mama Zhou's knees. She was still on her knees, old hands tight on blue apron, looking at the open doors. The dragon guard knelt on one knee before the low rosewood table, golden scroll held high in both hands. His black armor was dusty from riding fast through Tao Hua Lang. He did not move. He was waiting for the owner of this house.

She stepped into the hall from the side room .. golden phoenix crown with long blue tassels and pearl in beak. Long black hair past waist. Her small black shoes with golden phoenix crushed petals silently. Her shadow fell over the golden silk on the table. Her hand was pale, no rings, fingertips hovering just above the red dragon seal. She did not touch yet. The petal on the seal trembled from her breath

Outside the main hall doors, the courtyard was no longer empty. Through the doorway you could see many yellow dragon flags, black armored soldiers standing in rows. Peach petals fell on their helmets and stuck. The mist from Yu Feng Shan still hung over the roofs behind them. No one spoke, no horse neighed. They stood still like stone statues, but their flags snapped hard in wind. The rumble she heard before was this — many feet, many horses, now stopped.

Then wind came from the bamboo grove behind the manor. It hit the four bronze phoenix wind chimes under the eaves. For three years they had made soft ding-ling in morning wind. Now they screamed. Bronze phoenixes clanged hard against jade discs, blue tassels flying straight out like they wanted to break. Petals tore from peach trees and flew sideways into hall. Mama Zhou covered her ears with old hands. The sound hurt.

Her fingers pressed. The red wax seal was still warm from the courier's chest, softer than she thought. It cracked under her nails with a small sound, like thin ice breaking on Twin Birth Pond in winter. The dragon coiled in wax split in two. Red pieces fell on golden silk. One petal that had been stuck on seal fell too, now stained with red wax. Her hand shook a little. The decree was open now.

On the rosewood table, the broken seal lay scattered. Big piece with broken dragon character, small red crumbs around it. Next to it the golden silk lay open, black ink sharp against gold. The edges were embroidered with two dragons chasing a pearl. Incense smoke from the corner curled around the red pieces. The characters were written by imperial brush, each stroke pressed deep. The words were short. Shorter than the three decrees before.

She lifted the scroll with both hands and read. The blue tassels from her crown brushed her cheeks. Her long hair moved with wind blowing through hall. Her brows pulled together, small crease between them. Her eyes was worried, not angry. She read once, then again, because her eyes did not want to believe. The silk was heavy, cold. Behind her, the wind chimes kept screaming without stopping.

She turned and looked out window, scroll still in hands. From inside you could see the courtyard full of black armor and yellow flags, peach trees above them losing petals fast. The same peach corridor she walked every morning since she was child was full. Her reflection in window was pale. The golden phoenix on her crown looked dull in this light. Her hands tightened inside blue sleeves.

Behind her on the table, three blue and white porcelain teacups shook. Tea spilled over, splashing on old wood. Next to them the broken red seal shook too, small pieces jumping with each distant hoof that still came through dust. Peach petals landed in spilled tea and floated. The whole hall smelled of tea, wax, sandalwood and dust. Mama Zhou was still kneeling, looking at shaking cups, not at soldiers.

In courtyard, a tall man dismounted from black horse. His black dragon armor had golden dragon on chest and shoulders, black cape with golden embroidery flying behind. Yellow dragon flags snapped behind him. Peach petals fell on his shoulders but he did not brush them. His face was cold, serious, eyes looking straight at main hall doors. He did not hurry. He knew the manor could not run away. His boots crushed pink snow on stone steps.

More horses came behind him, rows and rows, lining up before Vermilion Gate. They did not ride fast like first guard. They rode slow, steady. The pink snow that had gathered thick on steps for days disappeared under many hooves. The air was full of dust and petals mixing together, yellow and pink. The sound of wind chimes was now under sound of many horses breathing.

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