1) Māma
Xiang
10 years old
There was only one priest to officiate the funeral of the beloved Empress Jingfen. He was a stocky and tall man, his face unmemorable. He stood behind a partitioned panel near the rear of the burial grounds alongside the royal monarchy.
Confucius classics illustrating the value of familial ties beyond the grave echoed across the open space.
My father had gifted me the right attend the burial ceremony, only if I promised to behave.
Empress Jingfen's reverence expanded past the Qin Dynasty to each of the 12 kingdoms and provinces. Her love and devotion to her Dynasty was persistent as the roaring waters of the sea.
Influential yet delicate. Beautiful to every man that glanced upon her features and every woman that envied her.
But there had been three years of persistent illnesses. It first started when complications arose due to childbirth.
My birth.
When I was born, she was strong and vibrant as a running cascade, but gradually her health deteriorated.
I was five years old when she first coughed up blood in her bright blue Hnafu as we played in the garden.
I was seven when she became immobile and ten when she finally passed away.
My eyes fall on the two guards lowering her body into the murky soil. A part of me left the moment they lowered her into the ground.
Memories of our tranquil walks in the garden and summers in the Five kingdoms refreshed my mind.
My mother brought life to the Qin Dynasty, a sanity
my father made sure to destroy.
He was a vicious leader and an even nastier Emperor.
She was the harmony and soul of our kingdom. Now? It would be disappear.
I should not cry.
I must not.
The servants eased her deeper and deeper into the ground. I could feel my father's hatred growing for me with each minute that passed.
Deeper and deeper she was lowered, and still deeper. Why couldn't they stop?!
A thick droplet of water trickled down my cheek. Than another and still another.
Tears.
Of course they were tears. It was a perfectly human emotion.
It was as if on impulse that my feet propel me to the edge of the square where she was finally laid to rest. I yearned for her warm embrace, her gentle caresses that were nonexistent from my father.
A sharp slap on my cheek jolts me to the floor, stunning me into silence. Timidly my eyes lift and meet with the bitter glare of my father. His orbs were red. His eyebrows furrowed. Rage filled them.
"How dare you cry at a sacred ceremony such as this?" His tone was lethal.
"I am sorry...father." I try my hardest to whisper. I didn't wish for my words to travel.
"I told you to behave. Didn't I?"
I promised I would behave but when it came to my mother? I couldn't.
"Get up!" his voice was gruff. I was moved to slow for him so he grabbed my jaw instead, forcing me to stand, pressing my cheeks within his palm "For you to show any ounce of emotion at this sacred ceremony is a slap in the face. As if it is not your fault the empress died! It is a mockery to the Dynasty."
"I am sorry fathe--"
"Do not call me that! From now on? You will refer to me as emperor Qin Shi Huangdi and only that! Understand?"
I nodded, looking down to my feet. "Yes emperor Qin" I straightened up and cleaned the dirt off my Royal robes. My momentary lapse of raw emotion must have been the last straw for my father.
The priest stared at both of us before continuing on with the sayings of Confucius.
I dared my eyes to lift to my father once more. His thick black hair cascaded carelessly over his shoulders. His back was turned away, his shoulder even colder now. There were only a few people gathered at the burial site.
My father had refused to allow others to see my mother in this intimate state.
Anger brims inside me as I see my older brother lounging under the shade of tree in the distance. He would prefer to be any place but here. He never did care for my mother because she favored me over him. I was too much like her which by default meant he didn't hated me.
The ceremony was quick but conspicuous. There were no departing words or final forewarnings. It was prompt and to the point. The lack of love was apparent.
My father painted one final kiss to her embalbed body before standing sharply to depart.
Now it was only her and I.
I couldn't find the words to say to the woman I loved.
To my peace.
My world.
So I said nothing at all.
I would remember this day for the rest of my life. It was the day my māma died and the last time Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi decided to ever speak to me again.
