Page 14 of Heir to a Curse
She giggled. “Okay, okay. I can design around it.”
“Can I use a regular mattress on that?”
“I have a few options. Original would be feathers for the ultra-wealthy, but a memory foam works great, and I have a few.”
“Sounds good.”
“Let’s pick everything then we’ll work on pricing.”
“I need pieces that I can repurpose for the kitchen too. The place has electricity, so I ordered a small oven. But I’ll need some counter and cupboard space.” A small, low to the floor table, and set of chairs in that dark wood sat off to the side. “That table is nice.”
“The table is original Ming. The chairs are new.”
“Original Ming meaning expensive?” It looked pretty basic to me, though I liked the padded chairs even though they were only the sort of square slab that sat on the ground. I thought it might be a comfortable place to work.
Madison waved at the chairs. “I’ll add it and we’ll figure it out. Do you like the dark wood then? Want to stay with that style?”
I pointed to a long narrow piece about waist high with blue and teal distressed paint and gold accents. “I love that.”
“Tibetan.”
“So mismatched?” Maybe I should have stuck with traditional American style instead of having a bit of fun with it.
“It’s a nice pop of color. Pretty with the dark. And it’s your place so you make the rules. I would just not recommend the lacquer pieces.”
“Lacquer?” I gazed around the room to try to figure out what she meant, but found several pieces in a range of colors that had that shiny finish I knew had to be lacquer. The difference was the details on those. They were painted with flowers or cranes or Asian style houses, and even dragons. Or was that more of theqilin? “Oh, that dragon wall art…” I pointed to a set of three panels that were exactly that, sort of hanging pieces etched in colors of blue, green, gold, and white. Not a dragon, I realized. The body again more horse or deer like. A horn on its head, a bit antler-like only just one instead of two. It floated over a small village. The background of the panels was the dark wood of the Ming pieces, but the colors a bright smear of life. A radiant fire glowed around the creature, so natural it took a few seconds to realize that was what it was, not some odd play of light. Hope. The picture felt like hope.
“Qilin?” I asked.
“Yes. You could hang those over the bed,” Madison said. “That was painted by a local artist. A friend of fathers.”
“It’s beautiful. Is it expensive?” I was pretty sure I couldn’t afford legit ancient art. But I’d give up decorating the cabin to have that.
“The set is a grand.”
Ouch. But I wanted it, bad. “Load me up, madam. I hear my wallet crying already.” I smiled at her. “And tell me the story about the curse. No one has shared yet.”
“Oh! The story is that one of the members of the clan, clans were just a fancy name for families and their extended lines, I believe the Chinese branch of their family, fell in love with a commoner. The rich didn’t mingle with the common, not unless a woman was found to so desirable she was made a consort. Though they won’t tell it that way because not only was it a commoner, but another man.”
“A gay relationship in ancient China?”
“Not ancient, more a hundred or two hundred years ago. Before the Manchu took over. So a bit more modern. I think there were probably more unusual relationships back then, only hidden in different ways?” She shrugged. “The story speaks of them as more of comrades. Brothers-in-arms.”
“A bromance.”
She nodded. “Yes. Though one from a dynasty clan, the emperors, princes, dukes, and such, and one from the working class. They didn’t really mingle. Education was for the wealthy. War was waged on behalf of the nobles, but fought by the people. Occasionally the children of the rich would fight. A handful were considered leaders, some even warriors. Mostly the children of the emperor were married off to vassals, other people with power, generals or nobles with land. There were legends of the dynasty clan having magic, being chosen by the gods, and even able to call fabled beasts to their aid.”
She waved at the painting of theqilin. “A war broke out between clans. The lower class fought at first, a handful of generals making their mark. Several elevated in standing, becoming vassals, given titles and land. The common man being one of those. He earned recognition, though the war still waged. Then the prince of the dynasty clan joined in. Eventually as the war began to turn, clan on clan, rich on poor. The poor died in droves from war, famine, disease while the rich watched from behind walls guarded by a handful of the loyal. Most of the dynasties fell to revolts of the poor, the last remains of the dynasty pulling their few survivors back. The rest were slaughtered. The Europeans invaded not long after and some of the old remaining clans migrated here.”
I thought back to my dream. One going off to battle, leaving the other behind. Hmm. “So the guy who wasn’t from the rich family went off to die?”
“Pretty much. It was that or remain and be slaughtered. They feared him. He’d grown strong. A voice of the people. Which meant people rose up against the clan in his name. Other clans seeking out their last members to slaughter them and remove them from power. It was often how the dynasty changed hands. Women and children killed to end all chances of that dynasty rising again, and the winner claiming the old dynasty had lost the mandate of heaven.” She let out a long sad breath. “Lots of history was lost in the days of warlord battles. Entire clans slaughtered and their things burned or broken. Names chiseled off records. It was a way of erasing those they didn’t like. Oral records keep some of those last few in our memories.”
“That’s very sad. And a great loss to history.”
She nodded, “The Han are still the largest group of people in China. And the Han culture is beginning to show resurgence. So perhaps we’ll see more history unearthed soon.”
She pointed out a few more pieces, a couple that could work for the kitchen. Some that I passed, and two that I added to my list. “Historians have pieced some of it together. But so much is still scattered. Lots of stories passed through families rather than written. Much of written history was recorded by the rich, so somewhat one-sided.”