Autumn Whisper

When night has fallen, the waves echo across the shore like a cascade of untamed horses. Shu-Lian has fallen asleep and woken to these nameless horses all her life. When she was young, she used to imagine that those phantom steeds would steal her away under the full moon, and take her far away from this poor fishing village. But one autumn three years ago, she found that faraway place in a man who asked her to be his wife. Life was harsh in the fishing village, yet ever since that day, Shu-Lian has felt an unwavering peace inside her. On these nights, she would whisper to the sea: “Perhaps that faraway place was right here all along.”

Summer was slipping into autumn when the monsoon lashed out at the shores one final time. Shu-Lian casts anxious glances at the cottage gates as she steams lotus bread on the wood stove. When the storms brew tumultuous waves, the fishermen stay in the open seas for the night instead of risking a fatal return. Shu-Lian lowers the blinds slowly, and runs her fingers across the thin blankets on the bed before sitting down to eat dinner alone. The storm does not subside that night, and the thundering rain drowns out even the crashing hooves of the waves.

The next morning, Shu-Lian rushes to the docks and stands among other anxious wives waiting for their husbands to return. One by one, the battered fishing boats sail in. The eternity of unyielding apprehension is broken by fleeting sighs of relief. And finally, Shu-Lian finds herself alone on the docks. Perhaps he found a school of fish after the storm subsided. Perhaps he still hasn’t woken from sleep. Shu-Lian smiles, and then closes her eyes briefly before heading home.

She steams lotus bread on the stove, knowing that he will have to return that evening. She takes the lotus bread down to the docks, hoping that the bread will still be warm when he sails in. But again, she finds herself standing alone, searching for the faint glimmer among the waves. She holds a red paper lantern by the shore, hoping it would be the first light he sees as he sails in. The waves glow with crimson crests until the candle finally flickers and becomes a wisp of smoke. When the sea carried dawn to the shores, Shu-Lian was still standing alone on the docks.

Shu-Lian returned to the shore, day after day, night after night, holding the red lantern in one hand and lotus bread in the other. The villagers thought she had gone mad and stopped speaking to her. They left her alone waiting on the shoreline rocks. But then one full moon night, the sea goddess took pity on her, and appeared before her in the form of a sea turtle.

“I know who you are waiting for. He returns to you every time the waves crash upon these shores, and yet he will never return to you again.” Shu-Lian listens to the sea turtle’s words, and having already cried out all her tears, she says calmly,

“Then I shall stand here tonight, tomorrow night, and all the nights after that, because every time the waves touch the shores, I know that he has come back to me.”

The sea turtle disappears into the sea. The next morning, the fishermen find a roughly-hewn stone statue along the shore bearing an eerie resemblance to Shu-Lian. The villagers tell each other that she had waited in vain and that the sadness had finally consumed her body, but on full moon nights, if you look closely, you can see a smile on the statue’s face as the waves caress the shores.