"Once long, long ago there lived in the
Imperial City a beautiful princess, the daughter of the King. Her eyes were
almond shaped and so gently coloured. Her fair hair swept down her back in
cascades. As a lady of the court, her demeanour was regal, yet she knew full
well to avert her gaze when people other than her immediate family came into
her presence. Many looked on her with wonder and whispered about whom the
courtiers would choose for her in marriage. It was rumoured than more than one
suitor had presented himself but had been soundly rejected by the King. The
King, you see, listened to his daughter and not the sea of fawning orderlies who
surrounded him from break of day to the last thing at night. Often he would sit
in his chambers and secretly observe the fair princess Yin, as she toyed with
her food or sat quietly. On those nights when he could cross the courtyard to
her quarters so they could be alone together, she working at her dainty cross
stitch and elegant embroidery, and he was free to talk. To him she seemed so sad as she carefully
worked with her needle. It was as if she had a secret,
a deep, dark secret, as indeed she had.
Her
secret lived far away from the Court on the plains that lay in the centre of
their country. He was tall and lithe, a real warrior who rode his horse across
the flat lands as if he were flying with the wind itself as he galloped off
into the east towards where the sun rose. The warm vibrancy of the sun seemed
to give him life. Yes, she loved Prince Yang very much, but he came from a
family of soldiers who had once betrayed the Imperial family, as a result,
could not be trusted. There was no way her father would ever consent to a
marriage between the two of them.
Yin let a small tear trickle down her cheek
as she sat at her needlework, remembering their meeting when he had come to the
city on a diplomatic mission. She felt a little cold as she remembered his
warmth and vibrancy. She recalled with a sigh, their meeting in the Palace
orchard on the night of a full moon. How he had come to her, his eyes bright
with passion and declared his undying love. She listened enraptured as every
word sank in. Yes, she too felt the love. A love that lay deep inside her knowing
only her Prince could reach that secret place where that love lay. She often
lay awake picturing him in her arms. Above all else, she wanted to love him and
take care of him and be with him. But she knew this was not to be. Not yet,
anyway, but each time her father brought her a young man whom he felt would be
suitable, she was able to persuade him that some fault lay with the suitor and
escape from the arranged marriage. She knew she could not tell her father, who
loved her so much, about her meeting with the Prince Yang. How light as a
feather he had scaled the orchard wall, and easily jumped down on the other
side. A meeting such as this would bring dishonour to her, and her father would
surely seek to punish her beautiful Prince. His anger would be immense at the
insult to his family, and he would without doubt ask for the Prince’s death in
revenge. That Prince of hers, he who had ridden away that night to the outer
reaches of the kingdom was forbidden to her. He had gone quickly in order to
protect her honour, positive in his intent that he would certainly see her once
again.
She had heard some of the ladies of the
court gossiping about her brave soldier, who it is said, struck four men dead
with a single blow of his sword. It was rumoured too, that many other ladies
like the Princess Yin had fallen in love with this young man. They too wanted
to possess him, marry him and have his children who would be unquestionably
beautiful like he. It was said that he had reciprocated to some of these
amorous advances. Some said the Princess Zang had been sent away from her
family castle high in the hills because of her infatuation with the Prince. But
Yin knew this was idle talk, the words of jealous women. Deep inside she had
her secret, and nobody could take it away. All she needed was time; time to
work out a scheme that would allow the Prince Yang to be hers forever.
So she sent him a message via one of her
faithful servants. Many weeks later the weary messenger rode into Yang’s camp,
which was situated close to the Mongolian border. He received the Princess’s
letter graciously and read it slowly by the light of the campfire. As he read a
smile flitted across his face and then he pondered seriously. His soldiers
watched his shadow as he walked up and down across his tent all night through. As
the dawn broke, he summoned his generals to war council; before the sun had
reached the mid-heaven his army had broken camp and was marching across the
plains in the direction of the Imperial City. It was a long journey to the
capital, and soon the King heard that Yang’s army was advancing towards his
capital. The King was furious, as this reckless behaviour on the part of the
impetuous Yang seemed to confirm his deepest fears.
“You cannot trust that family. They are
all traitors, every one of them! Now this Yang has turned against me!”
Daily the ruler received intelligence
reports of how the rebel army was moving swiftly towards the city. He knew the
capital was impregnable but was certain his troops would soon overcome the
nuisance. But he was a cautious man and a seed of doubt began to worry him.
In the evenings, he would go as usual to
his daughter’s quarters as she sat stitching and confide in her his doubts and
anxieties. Strangely the wily princess did not attempt to comfort her father
but gently massaged his worries, so they grew greater. Soon Yang’s army was
camped outside the Imperial City itself and the two sides prepared for a great
battle.
On the eve of the battle, old Ming one of
the gardeners in the Imperial City was watering the roses close to the
Princess’s private quarters. There he saw an old stooped woman limping towards
him. She looked harmless enough, and he took little notice of her. It was
unusual to see strangers in the royal gardens, but the gardener had thoughts of
his own. He had serious fears for the safety of his son, who would be in the
battle the next day.
That night there was a terrible storm. Hideous
peals of thunder clapped like cannon fire
whilst great sheets of lightening
turned darkness into eerie day. It was as if a terrific battle was being fought
in the heavens. The rain lashed against
the stout walls of the capital whilst lakes of water appeared from nowhere.
These pools were whipped into life by a raging wind; this meant remarkably few
of the townspeople slept at all due to terrible clamour of the storm. The King
like many of his citizens rose well before dawn. He hurried out onto the
battlements, so he would be with his advisors as the battle began. However, as
the Sun rose they were astonished to see that instead of a formidable army
waiting to begin a fierce battle there was an immense field of wheat situated
where the soldiers should have been, and instead of the cacophony of war there
was a perfect silence, an overwhelming peace.
As the King turned away astounded by what
he saw, three of Princess Yin’s ladies in waiting came running up to him.
“The princess is nowhere to be found!”
They searched the palace and the city but could not find a trace of her. The
story would end here, and remain one of those unsolved mysteries that men would
puzzle over as time unfolded. However, shortly afterwards an old man was to be
often seen in the city. Some said he was a magician, and some proclaimed him to
be a powerful healer whilst others said he was just an ordinary gardener. He
said all he could remember was the night of the great storm before the terrible
battle that never was, but might have been. He told those who would listen that
on the night in question he was in the Imperial Garden tending the roses, and
he went to a forbidden place close to Yin’s summer house and there he saw a
beautiful young couple making love. As their passion grew the wind rose in
strength as the young man groaned in
ecstasy the thunder pealed across the night, as the young woman panted in
delight the lightning flashed across the sky. He said he must have fainted due
to the intensity of the experience for when he awoke the couple had gone just
as the dawn was struggling into the sky. However, in the summerhouse in place
of the fervent lovers sat a monk with features like an angel. He beckoned the
old gardener to approach and as he did so he handed him two ivory figurines.
One was male and the other female. These figures each had seven lined patterns
etched on them, along the blueprint, there were a series of points.
The monk offered the figures to Ming
saying:
“Take these and bring them to the world,
for if you understand the harmony that comes from balancing these lines of chi,
you will understand the secret of love, peace and good health that you must
share with your brothers and sisters.”
Before
the old man could thank the monk, he had gone, and where the blameless one had
been sitting there lay a parchment bound in leather. A paper that explained
these lines or meridians, what they did, and how they worked. Strangely
underneath the parchment lay another paper this one appeared to be a letter. It
bore the Imperial Crest and it read:
“My Sweetest Yang,
Help me, lest they never know.
Your adoring
Yin.”
