Chapter 2 - A Taste Of Family

The girl walked through the bustling street with a bun in her hand. She bit into it slowly, letting the warm dough melt on her tongue.She was alert as ever to everything around her: carriages clattering on cobblestones; merchants calling out their wares; people laughing and talking as they shopped or met friends.But one sight caught the girl's eye more than anything else — a mother with her little boy; a pretty child with bright eyes. They smiled and chatted as they passed by the stalls."Mother," the boy said softly. "Can we have some mooncakes?""Of course, we can," the mother said gently.They stopped at a baker's stand where rows of pastries tempted the eye."Laoban," the mother said to the baker. "Two mooncakes, if you please."The baker nodded. "Yes, Madam." He wrapped the mooncakes and gave them to the mother who passed them to her son."Thank you, Mother," the boy said gratefully.Mother. The word was strange on the girl's tongue. She had never known a mother, or perhaps she had once but it was lost in the mists of her memory. The only person the girl had ever called family was her Shifu, the lady who had taught her how to be strong, how to survive.The girl and her Shifu had met on this very street. The girl had been running from a pack of angry waiters who had seen her stealing food from their restaurant. She had stumbled and fallen, scraping her knees and elbows on the rough cobblestones. She had looked up and seen the waiters closing in on her with sticks in their hands. She had thought it was the end.Then she had seen her — a lady in her middle years, drunk and limping down the street. The lady had a walking stick in one hand and a wine-skin in the other.She had stepped between the girl and the first waiter; she had hit him on the head with her stick; he had crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. She had spun around and kicked the second waiter in the chest; he had flown back and crashed into a cart. She had grabbed the third waiter by the arm; she had twisted it until he screamed; she had thrown him to the ground like a rag doll. The other waiters had stopped in their tracks, too afraid to move forward."Leave the child alone," the lady had said in a slurred voice.The waiters had scrambled and run away.The girl had been stunned. She had seen that lady before, at the abandoned courtyard where the beggars slept. The girl had never paid much attention to her. The lady had seemed like just another homeless, another nobody like the girl. But the lady was so much more. She was a fighter. A master.The girl had followed the lady, curious and thankful. She had asked the lady to teach her how to fight. The lady had paid her no mind at first, drinking from her wine skin and muttering to herself. But the girl had persisted, trailing the lady everywhere, pleading. She had started to call the lady Shifu, hoping to win her favor.Eventually, the lady had given in. She had looked at the girl and asked, "What is your name, child?""I have no name," the girl had replied.The lady had looked at her with a queer expression. "Everyone has a name, girl.""Maybe I did once, but I don't remember it," the girl had said.The lady had given her a curious look. "You don't remember?" she had repeated.The girl had nodded and then she had continued to tell the lady her story, the story of how she had woken up, one day, by the river, with no memory of who she was; how she had wandered the forest for a long time, living on nothing but wild berries; how she had seen this city from afar and came here hoping to find answers; how no one had helped her; how they had called her beggar and chased her away.The lady had nodded. "I see," then she had looked the girl over and said, "But if you are to be my apprentice, you will need a name."The girl's eyes had brightened. "You agree to be my Shifu?""Why not?" the lady had said. "You're brave, child, to have lived alone in the wild for so long at such a young age. How about we call you...Ying Lan."And so, the girl had become Ying Lan, and her Shifu had taught her how to fight. They had grown close, like mother and daughter. But it had not lasted for long.Shifu had old wounds that never healed properly. She had coughed blood and suffered from fever. Ying Lan had stolen silver and bought medicine for her, but it was too late. Shifu had died in Ying Lan's arms, whispering words of gratitude and love.Now Ying Lan was all alone. No Shifu. No friend. No family. She fought back tears as she finished her bun, and as the last crumbs fell from her fingers, notes of a distant song drifted through the air, a melody that echoed her inner turmoil.♪ I have no memory of my past I wander the streets aloneWho knows me in this world Who will fill the void in my soul ♪