“The Rice Sack” by Phoebe Huang

Clang! Thwack!

The loud clashes of swords and cracks of colliding bamboo sticks riddled the Sunday morning air. Ling was normally immune to the noise he’d grown accustomed to, so he was confused why it woke him up today. He groggily sat up, fully intending to collapse back down in his bed. He changed his mind when his stomach rather loudly responded to the smell of freshly-cooked rice wafting throughout the house. Having hurriedly changed out of his night clothes, Ling slid into his leather slippers and followed his nose to the kitchen. 

Ling quietly grunted as he pushed the heavy sliding door open, allowing a great puff of fragrant steam to escape the kitchen.

Zhaoshang hao. “Good morning, Father!” Ling called as he entered.

“Ah, Ling. Finally, you are awake,” he responded.

Ling hopped onto a wooden crate and watched Father forcefully thrust his calloused hands into a large mass of dough.

“Pork buns again?” Ling sighed.

“I thought you like them!” Father countered. “Besides, it is quick and easy to make. I don’t have much time before I need to head to the mines for today.”

“Well, you can’t feed me stuffed bread forever. I’m a growing boy. I’m already twelve, remember?”

Father chuckled. “Yes, Ling, but you must eat what you are given. I do not want to hear complaints. Always have a willing attitude. Especially as you grow older, this is so important to remember. That’s why I always tell you a society cannot function if people do not act in accordance with the system in place.”

Ling recited the last few words in unison with Father. He wanted to roll his eyes but he dared not disrespect his father. Even when discussing the littlest things—pork buns! —he always had the need to lecture about following the rules of society. Shehui. Society. His favorite word.

Having finished kneading the dough, Father placed a bowl of marinated ground pork between them. Ling breathed deeply as he caught the strong aroma of sesame oil from the meat mixture. He then picked up a chopstick and began placing the meat inside a piece of rolled out dough, twisting it closed in a spiral. Side by side, the men silently stuffed the bread—the strong man with scarred hands that exhibited his years of hard work and the budding adolescent who had yet to experience life. They did not exchange any words but only listened to the perpetual sound of striking swords and sticks.

Father left for the mines, leaving Ling alone at home to do schoolwork. Here in Ping Zhang, children taught themselves math and grammar from books until they were fourteen. Then, Ling would be able to start working in the mines. He was only excited to work because he would finally be considered an adult—a real man. It was a dangerous job, since it involved explosives, but it was all for a good cause. The metal that they mined for everyday was used to make the swords for the women. The women trained constantly, and many were sent beyond the mountains on the horizon to fight the enemy. Ling grew up hearing about the enemy, but the details were always vague. All he was ever told was that they threatened his home. Ling wondered what it looked like beyond the mountains; he didn’t know anything outside the walls of Ping Zhang. The only ones allowed outside were the warriors. That was out of the question.

The FaLü, the code, established that women were at a superior level over men. They were the talented, stronger ones—the warriors. For a man to fight was such disrespect and against the FaLü. Such a man would bring dishonor on his whole family, and no punishment would even be necessary because his shame would be punishment enough.

When he was younger, Ling watched his sisters train with bamboo sticks in the backyard every evening. Their weapons were like extensions of themselves that they moved with precision and ease. Ling had imprinted their movements in his memory to practice in the privacy of his own room. It was his dream to be a warrior. “Such a naïve child,” Ling now often said of his younger self. That child had hauled rice sacks and a broom to his room to fight with. He was a warrior of the highest ranking, and the rice sack was his enemy. The loud chirps of the birds outside were the cheers of his army. With great swiftness, he could hurl his body in the air, pivoting and landing the sword straight through his enemy’s heart. Ling was ashamed to think of those days. He tried to push those memories as far away as possible. It was important to diminish any hint of a fighter’s spirit and remember his place—he was only a man.

The sun had somehow climbed high in the sky, flooding the city with heat. Ling shut his book, unable to concentrate in the stuffy house. He strapped on his shoes and grabbed a stack of books before heading outside to the Atrium, the central community center. As he approached, Ling gazed at the towering, glass-paneled building. Through the glass, each level seemed to contain swarms of ants as people were constantly running in different directions. The Atrium was by far taller than any other structure in the city. Ling was sure it could be seen from space. He imagined that, from the sky, it looked like a large monument with little people bowing to it since all the buildings and houses were built around the Atrium.

Inside, the din of conversing children was loud enough to shatter the glass building. Almost all the children of the city spent their days here. There were grocery stores, gaming areas, dance studios, and several levels were devoted to training areas for the girls. The higher floors of the Atrium were where the swords were manufactured. Only men from the upper-class were allowed to work there. Above, the council members and government officials resided on the very top floors. They were rarely seen. Father always said they lounged in their luxurious penthouses all day, probably laughing at the miners. Ling wondered whether they could see beyond the mountains. “Oh, to have the power of a woman,” he thought to himself, shaking his head.

“Hey, Ling!” A boy about Ling’s age shouted and waved from a café area next to the entrance.

“Ah, Ming,” Ling responded as he approached. They clutched each other’s arm in greeting.

“Did you hear the rumor about the war?” Ming eagerly asked. “Word is that the enemy might cross the mountains soon since the warriors are struggling to keep them back.”

“Oh, really? Do you think they’ll get to the city gates?” Ling asked as he pinched off a piece of Ming’s sandwich.

“Probably! How awesome is that?” Food flew out of Ming’s mouth as he emphatically replied. “We might even get a glimpse of the enemy! I hear they’re sending all the girls in Ping Zhang towards the gates to form a blockade.”

Ling couldn’t help grinning back. Nothing interesting happened much, so this was exciting news, especially for all the boys.

After discussing their progress in math, Ling waved goodbye and continued further into the Atrium. He then stepped into one of the capsules embedded in the walls. “Level 48,” he told the automated voice. The doors shut, and a steady hum indicated that the capsule was moving upwards. The capsules traveled at such a high speed that it was sometimes hard to tell if it was moving or not. The doors slid open, with the automated voice announcing, “Level 35.” A group of loud, sweaty girls shuffled in, chatting in high-pitched voices. They wore matching red tracksuits with their long black hair slid into tight ponytails. Ling awkwardly slid towards the corner to make room for them. As the doors closed, one of the girls turned around and examined Ling.

“Hey, where’re you headed? Qunali?”

Ling uncomfortably glanced at her. Boys and girls didn’t regularly interact, so these situations usually made him feel a little uneasy. “Um, the library.”

“Ha, the library,” she announced to her friends. “What a nerd.”

“Bookworm. How’re you supposed to work in the mines with that tiny body of yours? You need to stop lying around reading books!” another girl chimed in with a shrill, rather singsong voice.

Ling didn’t know how to respond. He kept his eyes down, digging his shoe into the ground. The capsule seemed to move slower than it ever had.

One of the girls nudged him with her bamboo stick. “Yeah, look at these skinny, little arms,” she added with a laugh.

The sudden shove from her stick caused Ling to jump and release the books clutched under his arm. This led to the girls erupting in roaring laughter to the point that it didn’t even sound like laughter. It sounded more like a large flock of honking geese. Ling clenched his fists tight, jabbing his nails into his palm. He felt his face redden with embarrassment and anger. The thought of fighting back flickered in his mind. He could clearly see the rice sack and hear the thump of the broomstick making contact. Numb with rage, Ling bent over to retrieve his book, just as the tip of a crisp, white sneaker flicked the book across the floor of the pod. The noise that followed must have been loud enough to shake the entire capsule, but Ling couldn’t hear it through his fury. With screams filling his head and his jaws aching from clenched teeth, he suddenly felt a wind smack him across the face as his leg somehow threw itself against the skull of one of the red-clad geese. His leg then struck another’s jaw on its way down. His vision was blurred and his head was pounding as he tried to steady himself. With horror, he realized he had just done a spinning roundhouse kick, one of the moves he practiced everyday as a child. His leg had squarely landed on the rice sack—except it wasn’t a rice sack. The girls loudly gasped, shocked at the scene they had just witnessed, and covered their gaping mouths with their hands. Scooping up the books at his feet, Ling hastily pushed past the group as the doors finally opened.

Ling ran to the far end of the library, wanting to get away from prying eyes and trying to grasp what had just occurred. Ling finally stumbled into an empty aisle and collapsed on the floor, his head still spinning. He couldn’t even figure out how he felt. Guilty, ashamed, angry? A mixture of everything? He felt numb. Ling felt nothing, but as hours passed while he sat on the floor, his mind started to wander to his father. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Ling couldn’t bear to think about how disappointed Father would be. Ling got up and headed home, dread rising with every step. As much as he didn’t want to, Ling knew he had to go home and face his father.

The sun was already setting as Ling walked home. When he slowly pushed the front door open, he heard footsteps in the kitchen. Father was home early. Biting his lip, Ling entered and hesitantly crept to the kitchen door. Father turned around upon hearing the door slide open. Ling stood in the doorway and fixed his eyes on the tiles. The look of disappointment on Father’s face crushed him. For the longest time, they stood in silence.

“Ling,” Father finally spoke.

Ling’s head felt heavy as he tried to lift his eyes to meet Father’s. He couldn’t help it as tears started filling Ling’s eyes. “I—" Ling tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Father only shook his head. “Ling, how can I say how disappointed and ashamed of you I am?”

Ling lowered his eyes again.

“The girl you hit was Mei-Li, Council Leader Ping’s daughter. A library book registered under your name was left in the capsule, proving it was you who struck her. I didn’t believe it when I heard it, but the evidence is there.” Father’s voice sounded eerily hollow and sent shivers down Ling’s neck. Ling tried to stop his tears since it was making him look more like a boy than a man.

“I-I’m sorry, Father. I know I’ve brought dishonor on our family name,” Ling squeaked in between labored breaths.

“You always tell me you are no longer a young boy. How can I trust you as an adult if you cannot even suppress childish urges? Everything I’ve done and taught you has been so you would remove any desire to fight!” Father’s voice grew louder, though he rarely raised his voice.

“I know, Father!” Ling cried out. “I’m trying!”

“Well, try harder!” Father slammed his hand on the table, startling Ling. “Go to your room,” he coldly ordered.

The following morning, Ling woke up to a loud knocking at the front door. He rubbed his eyes, which were puffy from crying. Memory of the events of the previous day suddenly rushed back to him. He felt a sense of dread and weight throughout his whole body. The knocking continued. Ling sighed and reluctantly dragged his slippered feet to the door. He opened it, finding Ming restlessly shifting his feet and wringing his hands.

“Ling! It’s happening!” he shouted.

“What?” Ling rubbed his eyes again, confused. He then noticed loud yells and noises coming from outside.

“The enemy! It’s here!”

Ling’s eyes widened. Suddenly, his own problems fled his mind. He slipped his shoes on and bolted after Ming. In the streets, young children were screaming and running towards the mines and the Atrium. The older boys were heading for the gates, eager for a glimpse of the action. When Ling reached the city entrance, there was already a ring of boys watching from several meters back. Seeing real combat frightened the boys, and they didn’t dare get any closer. Ling pushed to the front of the group, straining to see past the barricade of girls in front of the gate.

For about an hour, the boys watched and waited. Though they couldn’t see anything, they could hear the yells of the warriors and the clashes of swords. Some of the piercing screams gave the boys chills, sending some of them running for the mines nearby. Suddenly, the screams grew louder, and the boys saw a blur of commotion. With a loud ringing sound, a large wolf-like creature with sharp fangs and electric yellow eyes smashed right into the gates. With its long blood-covered claws, it clung and began climbing up. Terror buzzed through the boys as they immediately dispersed and darted for the mines, which were just around the corner a few blocks down.

Ling’s breath drew shorter and shorter as the dust from the thundering boys flew. He felt as if the wind were carrying him as his legs moved at a seemingly superhuman speed. As he ran, Ling noticed the bamboo sticks strewn all along the road. Though every bone screamed to run, an inner urge prodded him to pick up a stick and fight. Ling skidded to a halt as a stick lay right before his feet. Without thinking, he picked it up and whipped around. The enemy, or rather the dark-furred beast, had succeeded in scaling the gate and had just landed on the other side.

“No!” his inner conscience screamed. “Stop being a child!” Ling let out a grunt of frustration as his grip turned his knuckles white. He felt his heart pounding in his head, and his whole body shuddered while he fought with himself. Ling glanced to his left and saw his father standing at the entrance of the mines, ushering boys in. A sharp pang of guilt suddenly struck Ling, and Father’s face of disappointment flashed in front of his eyes. How could he put Father through anymore pain and shame? “Gah!” Ling let out a yell, his mind cluttered with too many voices. The creature steadily approached with its beady eyes fixed on him. Ling could see the rice sack. His inner fighter’s spirit adamantly clung, though Ling desperately tried to shake it off. Looking back, Ling’s eyes met with Father’s. “The rules of society. Shehui,” Ling whispered.

The enemy deeply growled, and as Ling turned his head, he thought he caught a glimpse of the plains beyond the mountains.

Phoebe Huang is planning to major in Communication and Media and minor in Business. She enjoys watching movies and TV shows and playing the cello in her free time.