Shortly after the sun dipped behind the trees, tinting the low lying clouds with the fiery hues of molten orange, Chit’s two older sisters arrived. 

Kin La was the eldest who looked to be around sixteen or seventeen years old. She was very slender with long limbs like a dancer. 

The second daughter, Thiri, was the complete opposite. She had a sturdy frame and strong jawline, with a lot of growth left in her at thirteen. The three sisters all had straight brown hair, simply tied back. 

“Girls, we have a guest,” Maiah called out from the kitchen. She appeared at the doorway and made the introductions.

It was obvious Kin La and Thiri had been working in the fields. Their long skirts were rolled up at the waist, revealing their calves. Their legs were still damp from being washed before they entered the house, leaving wet footprints on the wooden floor.

They gaped at Sein who stood up to receive them with a greeting. Never had they seen anyone that resembled a goddess from stories of the old kingdoms. 

Sein was taller than most girls, with a desirable pale complexion and beauty not seen very often in the village. However the casual manner and friendliness with which she addressed the girls, melted away any unease.

“What kind of crops are you planting at the moment?” Sein asked, feeling the need to make conversation as the girls dried their legs.

Kin La, being the eldest, replied, “We have not started planting yet. We have been preparing the rice fields for the wet season. We will plant the rice next month.”

To fill an awkward silence, Sein continued her enquiries, “I am curious to know what kind of preparation is involved.”

“Right now we have been working to construct and repair the dikes.” Kin La remained formal, answering the questions in a polite tone.

“I have never heard of dikes. What are they?”

“They are like barriers to help hold water from the rain. Rice fields need a lot of water you see. And Thiri has been breaking up large rocks into small ones. Those we will use to build low walls to channel water.”

“Really? This is what you’ve been doing all day?” Sein was beyond astonished.

“Yes. We will be doing the same tomorrow until the work is done. Then we will irrigate the field to help the soil become smooth and soft and ready for plowing.”

“Sounds like a lot of work is involved in growing rice. I had no idea.”

Sein had lived an extraordinarily privileged life, and shielded from the toil of manual labor and the trials of hardship. She was clueless and continued to ask more questions to satisfy her inquisitive nature. However she noted, despite scraping a living doing such arduous repetitive work, there was no trace of bitterness in Kin La’s voice. It was their way of life. Sein only sensed contentment and purpose from the girls.

“That’s just the start of getting rice to our table,” Thiri said, gaining courage to join the conversation. She sat next to Chit on the mat. “Once the rice is harvested, there’s loadsa work still. It’s gotta be threshed to seperate the grains from the stalks.”

“Thrashed?”

“Threshed, but I suppose it’s kinda like thrashing it. You get a bundle of the rice and beat it. You know, against something hard. We use a wooden plank. But then there’s the drying that needs to be done.”

Kin La picked up the story and corrected her sister, “Actually the harvested rice is dried first. The stalks are spread out under the sun, and we turn them regularly so it dries properly and will not spoil. The rice has to last until the next growing season.”

Thiri regained the spotlight and continued, “Then Mama and some of the other women dehull the rice ‘cause you can’t eat it with the husk on.”

“Dehull?”

“Yeah like pounding it in a mortar and pestle, but in a huge one.” Sein blinked blankly at this and Thiri explained, “You know, so the grains are pounded. It’s tricky ‘cause it needs to be done with just the right amount of force. Otherwise the grains will be crushed or broken. Mama knows how much. She's experienced. I'm learning how to do it.”

Chit yawned loudly on purpose, diverting Sein’s attention her way. 

She moaned, “You’re boring everyone, Thiri. Who wants to know about stuff like that.” 

This solicited a dagger-stare from her sister.

“I'm interested in hearing about your work. Really,” Sein assured them. “It’s just astonishing how much goes into producing rice. It’s certainly opened my eyes. It will make me value each grain of rice from now on.” 

Maiah, overhearing their conversation, popped her head in from the kitchen and added, “We all chip in to make sure we have a successful harvest at the end of the growing season. We work together as a village. Some of us work the rice fields. Others tend the wheat fields.” 

“Yeah, Grandpa grows marrows and bitter gourds. Our neighbour grows lemons and oranges,” Thiri said, matter of factly. “We give our marrows and bitter gourds to them. And they give us lemons and oranges.”

“Yes, everyone helps each other out,” Maiah stated.

“That is admirable. Your community is very kind and generous,” Sein commented. 

“Kindness and generosity are necessary. Without relying on one another, life would be difficult.”

Sein thought back to the palace compound and realised the difference. The lords and ladies, whilst they had impeccable manners and displayed appropriate etiquette, were nothing more than actors in a play of self-interest, their empathy as fickle as a performance, changing with each scene. Wealth, it seemed, afforded them the luxury of focusing solely on themselves. They competed fiercely, each trying to outshine the other in the endless climb up the ladder of greater popularity and influence.

Then, a disturbing thought surfaced like a ripple on still water: what had she accomplished in her life? Kin La and Thiri’s hands shaped something vital, something larger than themselves. Their sweat and labor poured into meaningful work, nourishing not only their family but the entire village, weaving them into the fabric of their community. By contrast, her mortal life had been a thread unconnected to any greater tapestry. Was that the void she felt gnawing at her soul?

As if on cue, the three girls jumped into action and cleared the bamboo mat. Kin La fetched a low wooden table and positioned it in the centre of the room. Thiri laid out some plates and Chit added cutlery. 

Now the competition for Sein’s attention was over, the sisters hummed in harmony to a tune as they worked. Shortly afterwards, Maiah brought in a steaming bowl of rice and a plate of fried marrows. Chit carried a jar of what looked like pickled vegetables.

“Take a seat, Sein,” Maiah said, interrupting her dark thoughts. 

The three girls sat on one side of the table, squished together. Maiah and Sein on the other side. 

Four pairs of hands came together and they said in unison, “We are grateful for our food.” 

It was a prayer to Spirit of Sustenance as was the tradition of the Northern Kingdom. Despite being Central Plains people, influences from the north had seeped into the village life in the northern hills.

“Allow me to serve you,” Maiah took Sein’s plate and dished out rice and marrow. Then indicating to the jar, she said, “This is a speciality from this region. Pickled tea leaves. Give it a try.”

Sein hadn't been hungry or thirsty since turning into a spirit. She’d eaten the offerings left for her only out of not wanting to waste food. Now she ate just enough to be a gracious guest. She noted the red coloured rice had a nutty flavour and was firmer than white rice she was used to. The pickled tea leaves were something of a surprise. It was slightly sour and astringent in taste, but it was moorish nonetheless when eaten with rice. 

After the meal, the girls swiftly cleared the table, their coordinated movements clearly a nightly performance. While Kin La and Thiri washed the dishes, Maiah swept the wooden floor and Chit twirled into the back room and out again, playfully dancing with a pile of pillows and sheets. Sein had never observed housework before and she was fascinated.

Once everything was in order, Maiah announced it was time to prepare for bed, scattering the girls to the back room. Then she laid out padded mats and blankets. It was crude, simple bedding. 

“The washroom is out back. Kin La will show you where to find things. Make yourself comfortable, Sein.”

Once they had washed and changed clothes, the family settled down, reclining on their bedding.

“That boy with curly hair from Yamayo was here today,” Kin La said to her mother, lying down next to her, who nodded in acknowledgement. “He really likes Thiri. Maybe even fallen in love with her.”

“I am in the room, you know,” Thiri muttered, glaring from across the mat.

“He was staring at you. Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”

Thiri huffed. “I did notice. And it’s rude to stare.”

“It’s ruder to pretend he doesn’t exist,” Kin La teased, her grin widening. “You should be a little kinder to him, Thiri. It wouldn’t kill you to just smile a little.”

“There’s no way I’m smiling at him.” Thiri flopped onto her back, folding her arms like a shield. “I hate boys! They’re annoying.”

“You hate boys? How ‘bout our brother?” Chit spoke up, lying on her side and propping up her chin to look at Thiri. “He’s not annoying.”

“I think Thiri meant boys who fancy her, Chit,” Maiah clarified, clearly amused. “A few years from now, you’ll think differently, Thiri. And your sister has a point. It’s best to be polite. Who knows what the future holds. One day you might find yourself falling for him after all.”

Thiri groaned, dragging a hand over her face. “I’d rather eat an onion than fall in love with him.”

Kin La snickered. “Don’t worry, Thiri. I’ll remind you of this conversation when you’re fluttering your lashes and flicking your hair at him.”

Sein listened with amusement. Having never had sisters, she wasn’t used to this sort of banter. 

“Will you tell us the tale of the love spirit, Mama?” Chit spoke up.

“Ok but it’s getting late,” Maiah responded. “I will tell you a very short version of it.” 

Chit was satisfied and lay flat on her back. 

Maiah pulled a blanket over her daughter and began, “Long ago, in a kingdom of majestic mountains and bamboo forests, there lived a prince named Yasu, known for his wisdom and compassion. He was beloved by all, yet his heart carried a restless longing. 

“One fateful autumn night, he met and fell deeply in love with Yin Cho, a humble herbalist with eyes like emeralds. Their secret love blossomed beneath the glow of the full moon, but their joy was short-lived. The King, Yasu’s father, forbade their union and banished Yin Cho to the distant mountains, demanding Prince Yasu marry for the kingdom’s sake. Heartbroken but determined to find Yin Cho, the Prince planned to defy his father. 

“On his journey to search for his lover, bandits ambushed him, ending his life. The gods, moved by Prince Yasu’s devotion, turned him into a spirit, a guardian of love. On nights when the full moon bathes the earth, it is said the Prince wanders the lands, whispering courage to those whose hearts longed for love. 

“Yin Cho, years later, sensed his presence under the full moon where their love began. Desperate to reunite with him, she drank a fateful potion, surrendering her life to the hope of finding her prince once more.

“Legend has it that on nights of the full moon, you can hear the prince calling her name, his voice carried on the wind. Though they never reunited in life, their love became eternal—a reminder that true love endures beyond tragedies, living on as an unbroken bond between two souls.”

Sein absorbed every word, a quiet empathy blooming within her as the ache of longing for love was all too familiar to her. 

Was this the story of Spirit of Love and Marriage? she wondered.

“Did they ever see each other again?” Chit asked, rubbing her eyes then letting out a yawn.

“I hope so,” Maiah answered. “Now, go to sleep my love. Sleep well.”

That night Sein lay down, although she no longer required sleep, she closed her eyes. The simple pleasures of being in a warm home, tucked under a blanket, surrounded by a loving family was heartwarming. Her mind was able to let go.