NeZha's Mother

Flash Fiction by Wanying Zhang

Kneeling on the temple’s thin rug, Lady Yin prayed to her ancestors, hoping that this would be the year she could give birth to her third child. She grasped prayer beads and recited the sutra countless times, despite her aching knees. The air hung heavy with the smell of cinnamon incense. After three long years of carrying the child in her belly, exhaustion marked her mind and body, especially hearing malicious whispers from the people of Chentang Pass who suggested a devil grew in her stomach. Her husband, Li Jing, a high-ranking military commander of Shang Dynasty’s Imperial Palace, tried to quell these rumours. Still, they spread like the plague, leaving Lady Yin in desolate solitude within her home’s high walls.

Lately, she couldn’t shake the image of a little boy who appeared in her dreams. He was alone, crying, needing a mother’s embrace. Every time she reached out to hold him, she awoke in a cold sweat.

These days, Lady Yin took long walks in the manicured gardens. From the shaded pavilion, she counted fish in the tranquil pond. She sang to her womb and told him stories about how his oldest brother earned a medal for winning a sword-fighting competition and how her husband fought many brave battles for the state.

Within the confines of their home, Li Jing passed her a bowl of soup infused with codonopsis root to help reduce fatigue. A smile worked on his lips as he sat beside her on the bed and swept his waist-length hair behind him. She smiled back to appear strong for him.

“How are you feeling today?” He asked her the same question every day. She sipped from the bowl, grateful that she had such a caring husband. A warm flush washed over her.

“Better than yesterday,” Lady Yin lied. She didn’t tell him about the dreams of the little boy, the swollen ankles and the aches in her back. She didn’t want him to worry about her. Li Jing brushed aside the strand of her hair that fell on her face. She caressed the swell on her belly, the movements within soothed her. She assured herself that the discomfort would be worth it in the end. 

By her bedside, she kept an embroidery hoop she had completed two years ago for her unborn child. Her fingers grazed the delicate stitches depicting a lotus flower resting upon still water. Monthly, she devised excuses to add to the embroidery as a marker of the pregnancy. She didn’t recall when she started intertwining flames around the edges of the lotus flower. 

When she finished the soup, a surge of pain rippled through her belly. She struggled to contain it, reluctant to elicit her husband’s pity. Over the years of her pregnancy, she witnessed subtle marks of stress—fine lines etched around the corners of his eyes, and strands of silver-gray hair intermingled with his once raven-black hair. She wanted him to look at her the same way he always had and discuss state affairs with her as before.

“I have consulted the Emperor for a priest’s oracle bone readings.” Li Jing stroked her hand in his but didn’t look her in the eyes.

Lady Yin’s muscles tensed. She thought she felt a contraction as another wave of pain surged through her. She knew the emperor viewed the prolonged pregnancy as an ominous sign. 

“The readings foresee darkness coming. He speaks of death, floods and rebirth.” 

A weight settled in Lady Yin’s chest. In her dreams, blood flashed across her vision when the little boy slayed a sea dragon that threatened the people.  Her husband furrowed his brow, a familiar expression he wore when one of his sons’ behaviours disappointed him.

“I’m keeping my child,” Lady Yin asserted. She placed her hands protectively over the fetus.

The sun rays dancing upon the sloping roofs suddenly seemed too bright to Lady Yin. Li Jing drew down the bamboo screen to shade her. He gasped when he turned around. A trickle of blood leaked onto the lacquered floor. This time, she was sure a contraction came. 

“It’s coming!” she yelled. Panic struck Li Jing’s face when he saw his wife doubled over. He threw open the door and dashed out for help.

After what seemed like hours to Lady Yin, a midwife scurried into the bedroom, bringing a large bowl of warm water and an armful of towels.

Lady Yin prayed under her breath as she clutched her husband’s hand until her knuckles turned white. She wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, but the pain was more intense than her previous two pregnancies.

Throughout the night, searing pain tore through her. Echoes of her screams filled their home. Li Jing paced back and forth as crimson blood towels littered the floor. Finally, as the sun peeked through the window, Lady Yin summoned all her strength and pushed out her baby.

Her husband’s eyes widened as he witnessed the sight before him. A glowing ball of flesh with no discernible human features rested in the midwife’s arms. She screamed, dropping the bundle in shock. It rolled aside unharmed.

“Demon,” Li Jing whispered. He unsheathed his sword from his belt and lunged at the ball of flesh. Lady Yin cried in protest, her heart seized with terror and anxiety. He grunted as it bounced away, having a mind of its own. Face turning red, Li Jing slashed at it again. Lady Yin threw herself over the ball. 

“Stop! He is my child. I will not let you harm him.” Blood trickled from under Lady Yin. Red streaks stained her dress. Lightheaded, she collapsed over the baby.

A pair of eyes, a nose and a mouth appeared. Limbs sprouted from the mass of flesh, forming into a three-year-old infant. 

“Mama,” he said, holding out his arms to Lady Yin. Relief flooded through her. She recognized the little boy in her dreams and beheld her child, Nezha.