Because It's You

2.0 || The Prodigal Young Master

"Have you ever watched an ancient Chinese drama?"

"At a certain point in the drama, there'd be a war scene or a large scale epic fight, right?"

"Picture this: an expansive field. There may or may not be a mountain range behind the war set-up. Whatever the location was, it must be impressive. The wind howls madly, as if it echoes the spirits of the brave men fighting with their lives on the line. War drums and horns battled their own songs, spurning those men towards their life and death march. Hundreds or thousands of men, some on their horses, some on foot. You can easily distinguish the different armors. Or perhaps you can know which men belong to which faction from the majestic looking flags and banners they carry."

"You, as the witness to this epic scene, just know that this is where the leads of the drama will make their appearances."

"The brave General, mighty looking on his horse, wields a giant blade that would make Guan Yu proud. The opponent General, who looks like an Ashura with his spear, as if Zhao Yun himself is on the battlefield."(1)

"All the fighting men shoot their arrows, thrust their swords, wave their shields, as if they have all been injected with chicken blood."

"When you watch this scene, whose faces will you remember? Of course the ones with the most impressive costumes, right? Will it be the suave and scholarly looking military strategist, standing by his Lord, from atop the mountain while they're watching over the fights below? Sure, this Zhuge Liang(1) look-alike is undoubtedly handsome and looks like a sagacious immortal looking down on a pack of rats. Although he is not the Prince or the General, one who should be the main character of the movie, he's worthy to be granted his own story."

"But hey, the general is not me. The enemy general is not me either. The aloof military strategist? Pah~, I wish. Then, who am I? That ordinary looking infantry soldier with impressive looking muscles threatening to burst out of his armor? Nope, I'm not even that guy that may catch your attention but not enough to make you dream about him."

"The Prince? Are you nuts?"

"Look closer amongst the thousands of brave men fighting, those cannon fodders whose faces you do not care to even glance on. Stay with me, pay attention to that one corner, where a pool of mud has formed because of the heavy torrential rain just the day before."

"Hahahah. Rain. What a beautiful heaven-blessed natural occurrence that will either be beneficial or detrimental to one side. The military strategist must have wracked his brain the night before. Anyway, back to topic."

"Right! Please focus to the corner edge of the mud pool! A few men are fighting there, throwing their lives in line to defend their Lords, Kings, whoever. Focus just a bit more for me. Do you see that man? The one wearing a field troop's armor, just another small cog of the numerous infantry troops, a disposable single cannon fodder's soul? Surely you can't miss him? That slightly plump looking body?"

".... ."

"Okay I admit, that man is not just slightly plump. He is fat."

"He is fat."

"He is fat!"

A woman's hand deftly smacked the back of his head, "Are you done with your soliloquy?"

Ignoring the slight throbbing of his head, he kept looking at his own reflection in the brown water. The murkiness of the water could not even hide the folds under his chin and his face that was as round as a volley ball.

"He is fat! I am fat!!"

Then he started to wail loudly, "I've turned into a piiiggg~!!"

The woman covered both of her ears with both hands. On the bloody remains of the battlefield, she and the wailing man were the only ones living. Bodies lied everywhere as far as the eyes could see, swords or spears sticking off the corpses. The torn banners, depicting symbols of two factions that finished fighting just a day before, swayed gently against the wind.