The Ox and the Weaver Girl

The weather had turned. A warm breeze ran across the Chinese waters and blew a few petals off the beautiful seaside blossoms. They swept passed a young woman with long black hair and a radiant presence. She stood on the lower wall by the water—one that barred the waves from civilization—with an ivory flute in her hand. It was dawn, but the sun wouldn’t linger in sleep much longer. The woman lifted the white instrument to her full lips and, in a breath, began to play. Wonderful sounds flowed out of the tiny flute, laying to rest over the entire village. They settled comfortably among the cozy buildings, and the woman continued to send rippling waves of pleasure through its enveloping layer as she bade the sun to rise. On the far hill looking back, a great ox, who had been lying in peaceful slumber, woke, happily entranced as he was every morning. For being awakened by the woman’s music was like waking to soft kisses and pulled gently from one’s pillow into comforting arms. He stared down, mesmerized by the black-haired girl as she cast her spell. To him—and all who heard it—it was like a million night-stars coalescing to form the day; like the gift of life steaming out from the ground; like a frosty chill warming to a July wind. When the sun had risen high enough to rub the red shades from his eyes and turn a rich gold color, the woman stopped playing.

By now, a handsome young man in fine clothes had appeared behind her. She turned knowingly to face him, her back to the sparkling sea, and they embraced. Once upon a time, the girl had played to only the sun and the ox. Until, one day, the young man had heard her play and been draw to the sound like a bird to wind. Their love was deep, but secret. She was of the Yang clan and he, of the rival Yue. Therefore, their relationship was forbidden. Only in the mist of the early mornings and dew of late nights was their love free to live.

Over the past few weeks, the ox had watched their story unfold from his high perch. He loved everything the woman did because he could tell she had a kind heart.

When the couple had said their goodbyes and achingly parted ways, he stood, shook himself, and wandered further up the hill where a sweet, snow-white cow stood next to a shimmering pool. Though they had known each other for years, it wasn’t too long ago that the bull had fought valiantly for her affection, as bulls do, and won it. Now, they grazed happily together and refreshed themselves in the cool water. Unlike the cow, who was a domestic creature, he himself was a wild beast, unable to be beaten by bear or bull. But the predators of the animal kingdom proved to be his smallest threat that day.

That day, the farmer who owned the cow came to collect her and take her into the market where she would be sold at the highest price and sequestered in a far land. For the farmer was despised because he sold to the arrogant Yue people, who were the enemies of the proud Yang clan and lived across the valley.

The man who approached held a long, sinister looking rope. At his first attempt to put it around the cow’s neck, the ox charged at him. Immediately, the farmhands sprang into action, warding him off with pokers and torches. The ox veered away, frightened and enrages. He tried again to no avail. The farmer repeatedly urged his men to stay the beast, but the bull would not be persuaded to stay. Watching, helpless as the pretty white cow was roped and prodded away from him, he continued to stampede the farmhands all the way to the fair.

Only the great racquet and confusion that plagued the market caused him to hesitate. Sounds he’d never heard before filled the air. People roamed about in a mass of disarray. Between the bustling crowd and the armed men in front of him, the bull’s anger turned to fear and, for the first time in his life, he shrunk back in defeat. He kept pace with the farmer and cow along the border, watching in despair. All the while, the farmhands guarded against him.

When the time came for the cow to be auctioned off, a large crowd of gathered. Some were of the Yang clan, clicking their tongues in retribution of the Yang farmer who sold to the Yue. Others were of the Yue clan.

As the auctioneer began his ramble, the Yang cried out, “Traitor! We don’t sell to their kind!”

“You don’t deserve any of the pathetic things you own, Yang swine!” the Yue spit.

And all at once, a fight broke out. Everyone chimed in, screaming insults at the opposing tribe, and arguing over whether the cow should be sold.

The auctioneer was dumbfounded, and the farmer looked very overwhelmed, but only one person noticed the grieving bull.

Sitting nearby in a weaver’s booth, a young woman with long black hair and a beautiful summer’s dress looked up from her work to see what all the commotion was about. A pure white cow stood amid the throng, and at the edge of the masses, a great ox met her gaze. It seemed to recognize her. It huffed and stamped the ground with its hooves, barred by a group of attentive farmhands. Her heart went out to the panicked creature and in an instant, she understood what had to be done.

Rushing to the auction stand, she cried as loud as she could, “I will buy her!”

No more than half the people turned to her so she yelled again, “I will buy the cow!”

The buzz died down and someone said rudely, “Who are you?

“My name is Yan. I am of the Yangs,” she said.

“Silly girl!” the Yue said, “You have no wealth to bargain with!”

Yan turned to the farmer and gestured to her work. “I will weave you anything you want.”

Thinking that it might get him out of his predicament to put the focus on the girl, the farmer asked her to weave him a horse that could harvest the wind. “If you can, I will give you the cow. If not, the Yangs will have lost, and I will sell it to the Yue.”

Yan agreed to the challenge and said she needed three days. Everyone watched intently as she toiled from sunrise to sunset, weaving straw and copper and silk into the shape of a horse. Lastly, she gave it a fiery heart. Finally, it was finished. The result was fierce and wonderful. Everyone watched to see if it would harvest the wind, and to their amazement it took off galloping against the wind and caught it in its copper body. Filled with the invisible energy, it returned obediently to the farmer.

“Use the wind and he will automatically collect more.” Yan told the farmer.

Everyone stared in awe, unable to protest when he handed the cow over to the girl. Yan reunited the ox and the cow, who bellowed joyous moos of victory and bowed their heads in thanks to the girl. She smiled.

I couldn’t have done it without Feng. She said to herself. He gave me some power over the wind as a token of his affection, for his name means wind.