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The sun rises on the first morning of her betrothal. Lishu – who has been married twice against her will, who did not think the concept of marriage would ever cause her anything but fear – approaches the courtyard with the light step of a girl in love and finds her fiancé in the embrace of a duck.
She holds back a laugh. A flurry of thoughts rush through her – a fear of causing offence, of appearing childish, of being caught skulking about the house of her future father in law like a wraith. She pushes them back and chooses to think, instead, of how she does not want to get caught because, then, how could she watch this scene? Lishu crouches down, sitting somewhere she won’t be spotted. She doesn’t worry about anything at all anymore. She feels safe. Because this is what safety looks like, she thinks. Silence and ducks and the sunrise, and the constant mix of solidity and mild distress that characterizes the man who will always, always catch her when she falls.
Jofu notices her first. The duck starts running in her direction and Lishu is left with seconds to decide if she wants to run, too, or if she’s prepared to embrace the stammering mess she’ll become once Basen finds her.
She doesn’t decide in time. Basen follows Jofu to her – Jofu isn’t allowed in the house, after all, and suddenly they’re both staring at each other like frightened animals about to derail a carriage. They’re like a mirror – flushed, wide-eyed, but neither turning away, gaze entirely set. Before either one can say a word, Jofu struts off again in another direction, and this time Lishu does laugh.
She still wants to run, of course. Instead she feels for the ground beneath her, curling her fist as though she’s to grab it, rooting herself in place. She glances between Jofu, looking oddly triumphant for a duck in the center of the courtyard, and Basen, still gaping in front of her, and says, “Good morning.”
Well, it would be more accurate to say she stammered. But she is quite proud of herself for getting the words out either way. It’s funny, she thinks, how much progress they have made, and how much they have not changed at all. How they can be getting married in weeks and still be stumbling over their words like it’s the first day they met.
Basen appears to make an effort to compose himself. His “good morning” has no stammer at all.
Lishu attempts to rise, and Basen doesn’t hesitate in lending her a hand. She takes it, holds on, but he just leaves it out, palm up, as though she’ll break if he exerts the slightest pressure. Lishu steadies herself against a wall and slowly pulls back her hand. Conscious of every divot and callous of her fiance’s hand, Lishu catches herself between embarrassment and the desire to reach for her again. She wonders, if she grabs his hand, will Basen take hers as well?
Lishu looks down for a moment, clearing her head. Then she looks back at Basen and says: “I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to watch the sunrise and… You… I- thought it was sweet. How you are with her. It made me think of the first time you came to the village and I. I wanted to watch. To see–” To see you, unwatched, unburdened, in a moment of affection with a creature devoted to you. To see a future father, a future lover, a man no longer afraid of the love he has to give. A heart big enough to love a duck like one’s own child. If you can hold her, you can hold me. I won’t break, I promise. You’re the gentlest thing in my life. “It feels like home.”
“I guess I should fight to make sure Jofu stays this time,” is all he says. What Lishu wouldn’t give to know what he was thinking.
“Oh, she must. She needs you, she just likes me.”
“She likes it best with both of us, I think.”
“She’s our first child. She wants her parents to stay together.”
A silence follows, and Lishu hears the reminder in her words. Our first child. They’ll be married soon enough, and– The thought makes her want to run away. The thought makes her want to bury herself in Basen’s arms.
“I-” Basen attempts to break the silence, pauses, starts again. “Would you like to come watch the rest of the sunrise with us?”
The sun had just about risen already, actually. They are unbothered by this reality, and settle on a stone bench, side by side, one Jofu’s width apart. Jofu is not seated with her “parents”, she is running circles around them in duckish delight. Lishu has been raising ducks for years now, but never before has she been so convinced that one knows exactly what is going on around her.
Or, perhaps, she is seeing what she wants to, and Jofu is merely finding joy in the presence of her two favorite people. Lishu can understand that as well. She thinks, suddenly, that she is so happy that she may just cry.
She decided, instead, to do something more absurd. She inches closer to Basen, and she takes his hand.
She feels his shock, his worry – his hand constricting as though it’s flinching. For a moment Basen does nothing, and then Lishu feels his thumb move. He does not take her hand, not quite, but he traces the side of her hand, his thumb slowly going up and down the side of one of her fingers. Lishu can feel him watching her. Her face burns, she’s afraid to look up, but once she does she is met with a smile.
Lishu brings her other hand to their joined ones, using it to twine Basen’s fingers with hers. “If you won’t break a duck,” she says, and Basen lets out an awkward laugh. She squeezes his hand and gently, ever so gently, he squeezes back.
They remain like that for quite a while yet, girl, groom and duck-daughter, a happy family bathed in morning light.