Mei-Yi could not sleep. The canopy of the sky had long turned pitch black, but her eyelids could not resist opening to the sight of the stars. No position felt sustainably comfortable for her, and as a result she tossed and turned, unfortunately denying her fellow travelers of their sleep as well. She gave a haphazard glance down at the soldiers’ little tent, with the burly foreigner tied to a nearby tree. Yong-Liang slept in the open with his dadao in arm’s reach as a reminder of his vow of poverty, but Ao-Ling did so as well because he had no choice. She had thoroughly picked away at the day’s events, most notably the handling of the foriegn soldiers. Was it right to just let them go like that? Xue-Yu had assured her that they had learnt the error of their ways, but she still had her doubts. And the petrified face of the soldier with the glasses was a pervasive mental image in her mind. The way he looked up at her, with the permanent expression of terror and surprise. And the desperate manner in which the machine gun crew had tried to escape. But they were foreign devils, out to destroy her and her country. Still, she felt uneasy. 

Such disturbing thoughts were not exclusive to her.

“What news from Von Stransky?” The officer raised an inquisitive eyebrow. The soldiers who had just stumbled into his base were severely disgruntled, and deprived of all their gear. Their faces needed a good scrubbing. The officer was speaking to the second in command, since their commanding officer did not seem to be present. The candle flickered, revealing a mess of aged yellow documents on his desk.

“He, uh, dead, sir. Same with three others, I think.”

“Highwaymen? How many?” 

“No, no! By a terrible beast. Towering above the very clouds itself.”

“Right. What was it? A dragon? An ogre? Perhaps a giant?” The officer’s seriousness slipped off like a garment. 

“Yes, sir! A literal giant! No, a giantess! I don’t know what curse we may have brought upon ourselves, but it is unholy.”

The soldier raised his hands and tried to support his vivid descriptions with gestures. The officer simply laughed at the reporting soldier’s broken, babbling sentences. Placing down his pen, the officer adjusted his spectacles, not out of necessity, but more of expressing his skepticism. The candle flickered in front of the officer, illuminating his vaguely amused grin. The soldier, feeling foolish and angry, continued to attempt to warn the officer.

“No, you don’t understand what I saw! She was about, well, five times the height of the-”

“She?”

“Yes, sir, a ‘she,’ and she lifted-”

“I think I’ve heard quite enough about this ‘terrible beast.’ No more than a few bandits. You all ought to lay off the beer. Dismissed.”

“You’ll hear more of this soon.” The soldier left hurriedly. Upon being cheerily greeted by the sentry outside, he dejectedly gave a meaningless mumble in reply. The officer’s amusement left as soon as it had come. Tapping away on a telegraph, his brow furrowed in distaste.

Ministry of War  Stop

Chinese bandits have attacked a military patrol

Casualties not significant

Significant losses in equipment

All soldiers are to be on high alert

No quarter is to be given

No prisoners are to be taken

Stop 

They would indeed hear more of this soon. 

The next morning was awkward, to say the least. Everyone sat (or lied, in Mei-Yi’s case) together in a group, while the foreigner sat away from them, still bound tightly to the tree. No jokes were told, and no splendid stories of heroism against the foreign devils were shared. This could have been due to their poor rest last night, since Mei-Yi turning constantly did not contribute to an ideal good night’s sleep. However, the mood was still pretty somber.

“Should’ve killed them all, the bastards.” Yong-Liang muttered in contempt as he shot a glance at the foreigner with as much lethal hatred as a foreign gun’s bullet. 

“Did you see how helpless they were? They didn’t seem that bad.” Mei-Yi retorted. 

“Only because you beat them. Guess what they would do to women and children? Plus, each of them has a heart that can burn with vengeance and a hand that can shoot a gun. They’ll certainly be back, and they won’t be as friendly.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right actually.” 

Mei-Yi’s initial defense of the foreigners seemed increasingly hollow even to her. Xue-Yu stirred his porridge, a brown, tasteless sludge, lethargically. 

“Only one way to find out. You should talk to that devil over there.” Xue-Yu stood up and walked over to the foreigner. Though Xue-Yu was considerably warmer to the foreigner than his compatriots, he still acted with caution. Mei-Yi scooted over to the prisoner. Sitting cross-legged, she picked up Yong-Liang and placed him on her thigh. Though put off a little by this unforeseen action, Yong-Liang still tried to act dignified. 

“Let’s begin then, shall we?” Xue-Yu began.

“Why did you surrender so easily? I thought all foreign devils were selfish and wicked, like the ones that killed my father.” Mei-Yi started with the bare essentials, wincing a bit at the part with her father. She found it hard to look at the devil’s crude facial features. The foreigner’s gruff disposition easened a little at hearing Xue-Yu’s translation. To everyone’s surprise, he laughed. An all out hearty fit of laughter that shook his chest. When he spoke his voice was a deep drawl.

“Out of all the things I expected a giant woman to say to me, this was not high up on the list. Now, what’s your name?”

“Mei-Yi... Yours?” She added sheepishly.

“Private Stanislaus Klugmann. Great. Now, May Yee, all ‘foreign devils’ aren’t as wicked as the bastards who killed your father.” Mei-Yi was indeed surprised to hear him describing h

er father’s killers as ‘bastards.’ 

“You see, the peoples of the world don’t know a lot about each other. Most Europeans think that the average John Chinaman is always cunning and cruel, and spends his time devising new kinds of tortures. They also think you all live solely on a diet of dogs, cats, rotten eggs, and bird nests alone. Plus, the same foolish Europeans reckon all Chinese girls have tiny, bound feet.” He nodded his head towards Mei-Yi’s own gigantic feet. 

“I can clearly see that is hogwash! They also believe every Chinese river is filled with unwanted baby girls, tossed in the second they’re born.” 

“See? I told you the foreign devils are awful! Look at what they think of us!” Yong-Liang whispered harshly, not quite getting the point. Mei-Yi ignored him and finally worked up the confidence to look directly at the little foreigner. Stanislaus was a squat, stooping man, of a stout, stocky iron-grey build, about 40 or so years in age. His face was swamped by a rather bulbous nose. Tufts of greying hair stuck out from underneath his spiked helmet. His unkempt uniform was half unzipped, revealing a sturdy hairy chest. “But I’m sure you’ve met Chinese bandits at some points. The point is, not all foreigners are bad, but not all Chinese are good either.” 

Mei-Yi appreciated his commentary on the interpretations of each other, and didn’t care whether its purpose was for self-preservation or legitimate goodwill.

“But if not all foreigners are evil, why are they invading our country? Why are they destroying our country, when we did nothing to them?”

“Do you agree with everything your government has done?” Mei-Yi thought of the magistrate and shook her head. “Well, there you go! If it were up to me, I’d say the way to resolve foreign conflicts would be for the diplomats, the ministers, and the generals to be let into an arena with clubs and duke it out. That way, they wouldn’t have to involve the rest of us. But we’re not completely innocent. Our inability to tell our beloved overlords to fuck off is certainly a cause for disaster. ” Mei-Yi pondered over what he said about people being dragged into causes they weren’t all that enthusiastic for.  

“What about the guy with the glasses I, um…” Mei-Yi could not think of a euphemism for ‘killed,’ but Xue-Yu filled in the blanks for the foreigner. A sudden chill came over Stanislaus. He made no motion at all, but stood rigidly still. 

“Oh. His name is, or was, Herman Boehm. Good man. Good grades, good manners, all that. Ironic, though. He never wanted to join the army, much less go to China. Unpatriotic, the teachers called him. Coward. Socialist. Traitor. All that. So, out of peer pressure, he joined, and well. Hopefully his estate gets some compensation.”

Mei-Yi was very surprised. It was much easier to think of Boehm as some random foreign devil than an actual person. Fat tears slunk out of her eyes and plummeted down to her legs below. Yong-Liang was hit with a particularly large one, and covered with the fluids, dry himself off in vain. Mei-Yi struggled to find her voice.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”

“Who are we to judge you anyway? We aren’t exactly beacons of goodness. Remember the bison and the dodo? Fucking wiped out of existence completely. And the Tasmanians. All gone, within fifty years, thanks to the Englishmen. I really can’t exactly complain all that much about Boehm.”  

Mei-Yi did not understand what he meant by the bison, dodo or the Tasmanians, but got the main point. 

“Thanks,” was all she managed to say, since she didn’t even want to try and pronounce his name. 

“Now that that’s done, can I have some goddamned water? I’m parched.” Xue-Yu untied Stanislaus, and gave him a sip from his own water gourd. Popping the cap off hurriedly, Stanislaus dumped it in his mouth, a good amount trickling down his grubby chin. After finishing with great gulps, he wiped his face off and thanked Xue-Yu. They rejoined the other soldiers. Much to Ao-Ling’s delight, Kan-Tu was trying to figure out what the quickest path to the magistrate’s palace was. 

“Mei-Yi, if only your tears weren’t salty, we’d never be thirsty ever again.” remarked Yong-Liang, still trying to shake off his soaked clothes like a dog. Mei-Yi noticed his predicament, and lifted him up. She brushed him off with one finger in embarrassment. Her sheer size accentuated her motions, but even so her accuracy was greatly diminished. All she really accomplished was lowering Yong-Liang’s self-esteem.

“Alright, alright! Stop helping!” 

“Sorry!”

Mei-Yi placed the flailing figure of Yong-Liang back onto her leg.

“Lu Bu’s mighty tumescent halberd, now I’m moister than an oyster!” 

When a response did not come promptly, Yong-Liang noted that Mei-Yi was biting her lip sultrily at him and blushing fiercely. He suddenly realized the secondary meaning of his comment. His remark about Lu Bu’s halberd just added another layer of phallic implications. 

“You know what I meant. Don’t be immature.” 

“I know, I know. It’s just, I was thinking maybe, sometime, as friends, we could-”

Yong-Liang imitated one of Li Huang’s piercing stares. 

“I don’t think so. If a man lusts after a woman too much, he will be polluted by her yin. Not that I lusted after you, uhm, I mean, you’re pretty, but not to the point of- I think I’ll just stop talking actually.”

Now Yong-Liang was flushing. 

“Mei-Yi, you can, well, do it by yourself. You can’t be polluted by your own yin. I think it’ll actually increase your yin.”

Without warning, Mei-Yi picked up Yong-Liang. Before he had a chance to say anything, Mei-Yi lifted him to her mouth. Though instinctively tempted to punch at her gigantic fingers, he managed to restrain himself. Mei-Yi, puckering her lips, gave him a little kiss. Her lips covered pretty much his entire body, which did not help with his moisture situation. 

“Whoa, what’s happening?” 

“I-I don’t know. Just got caught up in the moment, I guess.”

Mei-Yi put Yong-Liang back down gently. He wiped his face with his sleeve and gave a little ‘hmph,’ but it wasn’t a legitimately angry hmph. Neither of them looked at each other, and instead tried to find little excuses to look away. Yong-Liang focused on tightening his red sash, while Mei-Yi stared away at the sky. 

“Let’s just never do that ever again, okay?” Yong-Liang suggested.

“Okay, okay.”