The Emperor's Daiyu (BWAM)

2) Dizi

Akazi

"Do it again and sit up straighter this time." My mother's gentle hand taps the smallest part of my stomach as she encourages me to draw in more breaths.

I sit on a bamboo mat while she crouches behind me to straighten my wrists. "You must blow in more air Akazi. What do I always say about tone?"

"That pitch is indicative of the tone." I deliver her adage impassively. My mother bites back a smile as she takes note of my indifference. It was my seventh time practicing the piece since morning. I am exhausted of course but my mother does not care. She always demands perfection.

She grabs my hands and positions them against the finger holes of my flute. She takes a few steps back to bestow her final plaudit. "Perfect. Now play"
I moisten my lips and lower them to the wooden blowhole to begin.

I had been practicing my flute since the break of dawn and each performance had been unremarkable until this moment. I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing and my diaphragm rising.
It was only now that I feel it.
That distinct sensation of cheery disposition as I play so innocently.

I can be whoever I wanted to be when I blow into my flute.
I was Akazi no more.
I am transported to the intricate palace of a breathtaking kingdom.
I am the young princess who catches the eye of the handsome prince from a forbidden kingdom.
I am an heiress who has always had her silk made or a mermaid skipping across the sea.

My fingers prance across the intricate carvings of wood, matching the rhythm of the theme. The soothing tune could lull even the angriest spirit. Airy and light, the melodies of my pitch rang through the quiet village.

My lips challenge me to race the intake of my breaths as soft wind-like melodies play throughout. Women and men alike start to gather, some peaking through the window of our little house, others through our open door. The village children skip around their pails of water, dancing until the shadows of the sun chase them away.

I draw in a deeper breath and experience the last climax of the intricacies of the piece. The last sweet-sounding octave transports me back to the little bamboo mat in my kitchen.

My mother says nothing as I finish. She only nods her head in approval. "Better" She says through a stern voice. She is not one to linger on praise, lest it becomes excessive. "It keeps a humble head." She always said. She was my biggest critic who had nurtured the love I had for my Dizi (flute).

She moves to the small stove where the fire crackles and stirs the last clump of porridge before plating it in our brown clay bowls.

"Come eat Akazi." She instructs. I rise from my mat and grab my brass case off the shelf. I push my wooden Dizi into its holster before clasping it close.

My feet dash to the end of the table, eager to start my meal. Hours of practice always did make me hungry.
"Thank you mother" I nod, blowing on the hot cereal before indulging.
My mother nibbles at her meal. She always takes small bites of food she despises.

I push a palm to my chin to take in her features. My mother looks younger when she doesn't worry; more beautiful. Her dark ebony hair seems to shine in the subtle light of the candle. She is a beautiful woman but the indications of war and turmoil had taken their toll.

The Qin Dynasty had seen better days. It was a troubling time for commoners like us.
News of the Empress's death ten years ago had traveled through the kingdom like wildfire. Emperor Qin ruled with an even harsher fist since the passing of his beloved.
Suppression of speech, destruction of thousands of books, and the live burial of 460 Confucian scholars were just the tip of his many monstrosities.

Since commoners like us were barred from reading and writing, my mother had gifted me a small Dizi(flute) to pass time and what a beautiful instrument it was. Deep shades of violet bamboo decorated its inside. The body was carved out of a single piece of bamboo with a cork-lined blow-hole. Six finger holes were perfectly etched at measured distances.

My mother carved it herself. She could have made good money selling them, but the emperor had barred commoners like us from exchanging goods for money.
We were not the richest in our tiny village of KaiLi nor were we the poorest. We simply lived to survive and that was fine with me.

"You can bring the mightiest emperor to his knees Akazi" my mother always says.

"And why would I wish to do that mother?"
She never answers me when I ask her. She only laughs and busies herself with some mundane task.

My Dizi was the poetic defiance to the tyrant we call Emperor Qin. I would curse him in person if I ever saw him in person.

My mother and continue to sit in comfortable silence, allowing the surroundings of the night to take over.

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Author Note:
I tried y'all.

You heard her mom.
That Dizi is gonna bring an emperor to his knees,