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The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet. The sound of splitting ice forced him to stop and look down. The crack grew larger and Zhou Jian Fei’s heart began hammering loudly in his chest as panic overcame him. Then, the ice gave way and the freezing water grabbed hold of him, pulling him under. The bitter cold shocked him to his core. His lungs burned as he sank deeper into the abyss. Desperate to breathe, his body tried pulling in life-giving air. Instead, water filled his lungs, sealing his fate. Jian Fei struggled until his vision darkened. Then, his limbs grew still and he floated lifelessly in the lake.	The man felt nothing, thought nothing, was nothing. For a moment, he had become one with Tao itself. But the Fathomless One rescinded its claim on him and determined that his fate would in fact not end that night. When Jian Fei opened his eyes, he saw that he was standing in front of a long bridge, surrounded by mist. The end of the bridge was obscured by the mist, and the man wondered just how long the bridge really was.	“Where am I?” he wondered aloud, taking in his surroundings with great confusion. He knew that a moment ago, he was drowning. Now, it seemed as though he had been transported somewhere else.	Behind him, he noticed a young man with a pale face. The stranger’s long dark hair hung loose around his shoulders and down his back. It was then that Jian Fei realized that his hair had also fallen from its top knot. He reached up to touch the top of his head, wondering if his hair had been freed from the top knot during his fight for his life. It was then that the ever-moving mist revealed a long line of people behind them. Young and old, male and female, every individual wore their hair down and donned a plain white gown.	Jian Fei’s eyes widened with understanding.	“Am I dead?” he said to himself.	In front of him, he could make out the form of others in the mist, taking their turn walking up to an old woman and taking a drink from the bowl on top of the tray in her hands.	“This is the Naihe Bridge,” Jian Fei remarked with surprise.&nbsp;	“The Naihe Bridge?” he heard the young man say behind him.	He turned to face the young man and saw a mix of fear and anxiety in his eyes.	“I can’t be dead,” the young man said, shaking his head nervously. “I can’t abandon my family.”	Jian Fei watched as the person before him stepped forward to take a drink from the old woman’s bowl. It would be his turn next. As he restlessly awaited his turn, his thoughts traveled back to the life he led.	He remembered the day his sons A’Mian and A’Zhu left home to defend the border from the northern barbarians. Every day, Jian Fei and his wife Yun Xian eagerly awaited their safe return. But the war was brutal, and the news of their deaths came two years later. Since that day, Yun Xian fell into a deep depression and never recovered.&nbsp;	“You did this,” she rebuked him angrily with tears in her eyes. “You told them to enlist so they could gain fame like you and your father did. If it wasn’t for you, they would still be alive.”	Jian Fei had no defense for himself, and slowly, his wife distanced herself from him. He came home one day to find her body hanging from the rafters, a white sheet tied around her neck.	Finally, it was Jian Fei’s turn to drink from the old woman’s bowl. He knew of the contents of the bowl, as legend spoke well of it. He walked up to the old woman and stared down at the clay vessel. The water was still, giving off a clear reflection as the man peered down into it. There, he gazed upon the face of the person he hated the most, the one he blamed for the deaths of his loved ones. He willingly picked up the bowl, to the astonishment of the restless young man in line behind him. Jian Fei held the bowl up to his lips and took a drink. The liquid was bitter and he noticed his mind clearing immediately. The burden of memories was gone, and he no longer knew who he was.	He stepped onto the Naihe Bridge and started his journey across. He quickly became obscured by the mist, his destination a mystery to those watching from the line behind. His slow steps were heard only by him as he walked alone. He wondered what he had left behind in his previous life, but was ready to embrace his new life on the other side. By the time he reached the other end of the bridge, he had disappeared entirely from the realm.&nbsp;	He blinked as his eyes were met with the bright light of day. He gave a cry as his wet and bare skin touched the cold air. He was quickly washed and swaddled in a blanket, and he heard the soothing voice of his mother. Wrapped in her warm embrace, the newborn babe felt safe. He nursed and rested, hearing occasional noises as his mother spoke to others in the room. The things he saw were blurry, his eyes not yet fully developed. He did not understand what he saw and heard, but he knew he was safe with his mother.	Later, someone new arrived. It was a man with a deep voice. His mother spoke gently to the man, then laid him into the man’s arms. He looked down upon the child, his child, with deep pride.&nbsp;	“A’Zhan,” he said, choosing for the infant a strong name. “Finally I get to meet you.”	The days passed, and the child’s vision improved. He could easily pick up the voice of his mother and father, and happily sought their faces when they called to him. His mother was tender and kind, but it was his father who had grand plans for his future.	“The Han forces are threatening our people again, so we will need strong warriors to defend us,” his father told A’Zhan, holding him in his arms as several mounted soldiers passed by on the dirt street outside their home.	The child looked at the soldiers riding by, seeing the light reflect off their armor as well as the armored barding of their steeds. He did not understand what he saw, nor did he see how war affected his world around him.&nbsp;	“I will train you to be a mighty warrior, A’Zhan,” his father said to him. “That is why I chose the name Zhan for you, for you will fight to protect our people when you are older.”	The child watched the mounted soldiers as they rode further and further down the road, mesmerized by the light of the sun shimmering on their armor.&nbsp;

The Bitter Cycle

bfende

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The Bitter Cycle

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