by Christine Welch
She was an odd looking creature, not something usually seen down on the plains or by the river. Difficult to explain, but she blended in to the forest on the mountain terrace. Her garments were green like the leafy trees she hid behind, and she had no hair, her head the same color as tree bark. But it was her eyes, her eyes that caught you and held you, like two emeralds piercing through the darkness.
No one seemed to like her, not even her father, who lived high and far away, atop another mountain to the west. It was not difficult to understand why. Wherever she walked, wherever her laugh sounded out, the flowers would shrivel and the riverbeds dry up. Like there was a curse upon her that sucked the water out of everything.
Because of this curse, she was confined to the terrace, doomed to walk amid its brittle branches until the end of time -- or so she thought. Her father would not have her walking upon the plains, destroying the crops, ruining the fields, sucking the moisture out of the air. So she sought enjoyment from the trees and meadows, moving between them, watching them die and then, eventually, be reborn.
It never rained on that mountain.
Soon thunder and clashes came from the south. Her father was at war with a rebel, Chiyou, and both sides were supported by numerous gods and goddesses. The bald girl began to worry, wondering if there was any way she could help her father.
She heard tell that one of her favorite neighbors, a handsome dragon god with powerful wings named Yinglong, had been sent by her father to attack the rebels in one of the southern realms. In more peaceful times, Yinglong had always kept watch over her, making sure the forest and terrace did not become too brittle and catch on fire, dousing the land with his magic rain when she was far enough away in one direction. Although as rain god and drought goddess, they could not draw too close to each other, she liked the way he soared through the air above her, keeping watch, and he liked to hear the sound of her laughter.
The bald girl yearned to help, too.
She saw Yinglong soaring through the air to the south, drawing all the water in the land away to the west, to her father's realm. She saw Chiyou respond in kind, calling up the power of his friends, the wind and storm gods, to bring water back to the land and sweep away her father's forces. She knew what had to be done. It was not possible for Yinglong to defeat all three gods at once. The only solution was for her father to set her free from her prison. And just then he called for her.
Yinglong soared back to find her, enveloping her in his claws and taking her down to the battlefield, although it cost him much of his strength. As soon as her toes brushed the earth on the southern plain, the soil turned to sand, and the crops to dust. The wind and storm gods fled, their hurricane spent. Fearing the drought would spread through all the lands, Chiyou surrendered, and was promptly executed. His lands peaceful again, the Yellow Emperor returned to his seat on the mountain, his mind turned to other matters.
The bald girl roamed the land, searching for a new home, a new purpose. Yinglong was gone, roaming the mountains of the north. Her father seemed to have more important matters on his mind. Everywhere she went, people would curse and spit at her, their livelihoods ruined by her very existence. They called out "Han Ba! Go away! Leave this place! Don't return! You aren't welcome here!"
But Han Ba was not welcome anywhere. She began to wail, although no tears would fall. She curled up in a ball and would not move for many days, wailing and screaming her misery. She wanted to die, wanted to be different, wanted to be like everyone else. She felt very sorry for herself.
And that just made the drought worse.
She cried until she had no more strength, and then she slept. While she slept, the grass and flowers grew up beneath her, and the water returned to the riverbeds. Rain fell and the crops flourished. Still she slept, unnoticed by anyone. But then the rains wouldn’t stop. The crops were in danger of flooding, spoiling, and worse. Villagers’ roofs were caving in and some were dying from exposure. They were saying that the gods had disrupted the weather with their battle, and this was nature’s punishment.
That’s when Han Ba awoke, disoriented. She had never before slept in a bed of flowers, or been covered in a blanket of grass. Her next thought was to wonder what had awoken her. But then she realized that someone was pulling at her hand, pleading in a pitiful voice, “Please, stop the rain! Please, stop the rain!” The bald girl sat up, and saw that the someone was a small child, wet and starving, with the most haunted eyes.
The rain clouds began to shrink, until there was nothing left but blue sky. The puddles shrank, and the villagers’ flooded houses dried out. The little girl laughed and clapped her hands, and Han Ba felt a new emotion, one that she had never felt before. She was happy to be herself.
The villagers slowly emerged and gathered around her, thanking her earnestly and shaking her hand, their spite and hate forgotten. Han Ba didn’t know what to do, so she smiled and fled, not wanting to instigate another drought. She ran until she reached a dense thicket, where no people would ever come, and then she sat on the crumbling ground and stared at a pine tree. Alone.
Her power was not a curse after all.
She had learned so much since she had been set free from her prison, so much that she shook her head, feeling slightly old. Life isn’t fair. She never asked for this power, never wanted to be anything other than ordinary. But it was never going to go away. It was out of her control, it was fate.
There was something she could control: her actions, where she went, who she affected. She had a choice: she could thoughtlessly roam places that needed water, ruining lives. She could find some deserted spot and hide from the world which had outcasted her. Or she could seek out those people who needed her help, for whom a small drought was a blessing rather than a curse.
Remembering the laugh of the small villager child, Han Ba stood, raised her head, and made her decision. She wanted to use her power to help people, to create happiness rather than misery. It was time for her to find a place of her own. Laughing, she realized that she was free.
For the Chinese version: click here!
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