Yellow

by Liliana Bodoc

translated by Toshiya Kamei

Ye-Lou ruled over a vast territory east of the known world. His was a golden empire where porcelains shined in a smooth, pale glow like women who sashayed gracefully under the sun, which stung like a mustard seed.

This emperor, this Ye-Lou I’m telling you about, had a habit of taking a nap.

Naps, no matter where they take place, smell of old paper and buzz like bees. Well, Ye-Lou noticed the smell, heard the buzz, and suddenly fell asleep wherever he was. Most of the time, he was overcome by sleep during his lunch. So his saffron rice dish was left half-finished.

As soon as the emperor began to nod off, his wife suggested he take his nap on the bed covered with golden scales. His counselor recommended the curved bronze bed, and his doctor prescribed the bed upholstered in leopard skin. But Ye-Lou listened to no one because, wherever he was, he was already asleep, snoring.

When the palace servants heard his snores, they hurried to place linen cloths over the one hundred and fifty-five cages where five hundred and fifty-three canaries suffered and trilled. The cages were covered so that all was quiet during the emperor’s nap.

But one day, the emperor’s naps stopped being sweet and calm and became sour and hard, as if they turned from honey to lemon.

All began during one nap on a hot summer day when the sleeping emperor had a horrible nightmare — horrible for an emperor of such a vast empire, who thought himself, out of necessity, the greatest, the most venerable and most worthy of the whole world’s love.

His nightmare began with the appearance of a dot of light that grew and grew, and grew until it was twice his height. Then the light spoke in a gigantic voice:

“Listen carefully, Emperor Ye-Lou. There is someone more venerable, more magnificent and more loved than you in this world. Soon everyone will see his face while you will crawl, defeated in the radiance of his splendor.”

At first, Ye-Lou didn’t attach much importance to his nightmare and dismissed it from his thoughts as if swatting away flies. But the nightmare became more and more frequent. Finally, the emperor’s naps were ruined by the gigantic light that brought bad news:

“Listen carefully, Emperor Ye-Lou. There is someone more venerable, more magnificent, and more loved than you in this world. Soon everyone will see his face while you will crawl, defeated in the radiance of his splendor.”

Almost in despair, the emperor asked his wife what he could do to end this unpleasant dream. She spent a good while perusing her Great Book of Home Remedies.

“You have to drink an egg yolk whipped with white wine,” his wife said. “Here it says an egg yolk whipped with white wine keeps nightmares away.”

The emperor heeded his wife’s advice. But to his great misfortune, the nightmare didn’t go away. On the contrary, the light seemed to grow steadily.

Desperate, the emperor consulted his doctor.

“Let me be clear.” The doctor had just secretly flipped through the Great Book of Home Remedies. “He who wants to scare away nightmares must rub his forehead, elbows, and feet with sulfur powder.”

The emperor dutifully followed the palace doctor’s recommendations. But he had no luck. The sulfur powder only made the light speak in a metallic voice.

Then, truly desperate, the emperor asked his counselor.

The counselor shook his head in disapproval; he wanted to make it clear that he thought the Great Book of Home Remedies was pure nonsense. Then he cleared his throat and gave his wise advice: not taking a nap would suffice to avoid having nightmares during naps.

“He who doesn’t sleep doesn’t dream. Oh, Venerable Emperor!” the counselor said. “If you don’t take a nap, oh, Venerable Emperor, your nightmares will end.”

It must be said that Ye-Lou did everything he could to follow this advice, which, after all, seemed the most sensible one he had received. Sometimes, however, everything isn’t enough. When nap time came for Ye-Lou’s empire with the smell of old paper and the buzzing of bees, the emperor fell asleep however much he tried to avoid it. He fell asleep, even though, by his express order, the birdcages remained uncovered and the five hundred and fifty-three canaries kept trilling.

And when Ye-Lou fell asleep, a dot of light appeared in the middle of darkness during sleep. The light grew with astonishing speed until it filled the whole space of the nightmare, and then it spoke: “Listen carefully, Emperor Ye-Lou. There is someone more venerable, more magnificent, and more loved than you in this world.”

The same words were repeated over and over. “Soon everyone will see his face.”

Nap after nap, things got more complicated. Every time he woke up, the emperor sank into a sad mood. Then he spent the rest of the day wandering around the palace corridors, mumbling words that no one understood, and wondering who was going to defeat him.

The emperor was convinced that the light of his nightmare wasn’t making empty threats. What this evil light warned him about would come true, according to its words, soon.

People in the empire heard him and lamented: “Oh!” they said. “Our poor emperor is ill. He does nothing but talk about a powerful enemy who only appears in his dreams.”

Ye-Lou got thin before everyone’s eyes. And he repeated the light’s words over and over again. “Someone more venerable, more magnificent, and more loved...”

Rage, despite his fatigue, kept the emperor on his feet: “But who is it!” he shouted. “Who is he? Who is...?”

Often, after those fits of rage, Ye-Lou collapsed to the floor, exhausted. He lay there for hours while no one dared step closer.

And it was like that on the horrible day, when, suddenly, he raised his face disfigured by insomnia. And with the color of envy.

“Very well!” The emperor had just made a horrifying decision. “My enemy’s day will never dawn! I will send anyone who claims to be great to death!”

Until that terrible day, Ye-Lou had shared his vast empire with feudal lords and princes who ruled affluent provinces. They accepted Ye-Lou as the only emperor of the whole east. And, as a reward for their loyalty, Ye-Lou respected their territories. He allied himself with them if necessary and shared fruits in times of drought. But a nightmare was about to destroy such a good rapport with his neighbors.

The emperor spent the whole night going over the power and wealth of the princes and lords of his empire. Lost in the realm of madness, he thought all of them were his enemies. Any of them could be, in his feverish mind, the one who would try to fulfill the nightmare’s prophecy.

“Someone more venerable, more magnificent, and more loved than you...”

Ye-Lou took a pen and a piece of parchment and jotted down a long list of names.

“One of them has to be the one who tries to defeat me,” said Ye-Lou, eyeballing the list of those condemned to death.

The following morning his emissaries parted in four directions to carry out the worst order Ye-Lou had ever given.

And Ye-Lou kept waiting. He looked north and then south, anxious for their return.

In the middle of autumn, the men who had left with poisoned golden spears began to arrive. One after another, at a gallop, they crossed the gardens covered with dry leaves. They dismounted and bowed in reverence. “Emperor Ye-Lou, your order has been carried out.”

That meant that another spear had been launched with good aim. That meant that Ye-Lou had one less enemy to worry about.

However, despite many spears and autumns, the nightmare still haunted the emperor during his naps and repeated the same threat: “Listen carefully, Emperor Ye-Lou. There is someone more venerable, more magnificent, and more loved than you in this world. Soon everyone will see his face while you will crawl, defeated in the radiance of his splendor.”

Ye-Lou opened the highest windows of the palace wide and shouted, driven mad by pain. “Whoever you are, I will never crawl before you!”

The emperor raised his fist as a threat. But, before his rage, wheat fields swayed in the wind as if they heard nothing. Exhausted, Ye-Lou dropped his arm and lowered his voice:

“But who are you? I just have to know who you are.”

By then, the whole empire had come to fear him. His sweet wife, his doctor, and even his counselor failed to bring him peace.

Ye-Lou no longer ate. He staggered from one side to another, mumbling curses and hatred. And he barely remembered to breathe.

The autumn came to an end. All the emissaries had come back; all the golden spears had been launched with precision. Ye-Lou no longer had powerful neighbors. But, oh, the misery of all miseries! The nightmare kept reciting its terrible prophecy.

A few naps later, Ye-Lou woke up with his head full of screams clamoring inside him, his eyes clouding over. Sweating and his teeth chattering, he ordered his servants to help him don his best armor and give him his ancestors’ sacred weapons.

“I’ll have to go and look for him myself!” he shouted in front of his servants and soldiers.

The emperor left the palace behind. He looked around in all directions and inched forward. Suddenly, he turned around, as if to surprise someone behind his back. But he found nothing except solitude. Thus, he kept wandering around, slashing the air with his sword. Those who saw him knew the venerable emperor had lost his mind for good.

Ye-Lou walked and walked. He crossed wheat fields, shouting threats. “Show your face!” he shouted across the field. “If you really think you can defeat me, come out and fight me!”

Several hours later, the heat began to weigh him down. Inside his metal armor, the weakened emperor was losing the little strength he had left. Even so, he kept taking large steps, brandishing his sword and challenging his invisible enemy.

He had already reaped the whole field with the blade of his sword, because he imagined his enemy hiding among the wheat. As he didn’t find what he was looking for, he headed toward the millet field. Again he destroyed the new crops, but again in vain.

His emaciated body couldn’t go on. His head pounded from the heat inside the helmet. He could hardly see, and his knees buckled under the weight of the metal armor.

With the strength that madness gave him, Ye-Lou reached a sunflower field. After a few unsteady steps, he fell to the ground. But, with great effort, he managed to stand up. Before his tired eyes, the sunflowers looked enormous and tiny, went away, swayed, and faded.

Still, Ye-Lou tried to go on, until, at last, he fell to his knees. He struggled to take his helmet off so he could breathe. Tears burned his eyes and then trickled down his face. The emperor tried to get up, but his arms, as thin as hay strands, failed to support him.

Ye-Lou dragged along his solitude and madness under the splendid sun in the east. Indifferent to his agony, the sunflowers around him looked toward the same point in the sky.

“Soon everyone will see his face while you will crawl, defeated in the radiance of his splendor.”

The sun gleamed in the sky. The sunflowers gazed at it. Ye-Lou wept in madness against the earth.

In a place inhabited by dreams, a nightmare was smiling.

Proceed to Challenge 824...