“The Chairman is here,” mouth whispered to ear. In less than an hour all knew that at noon of that day a plane had descended on the level ground outside the city bearing the Two Above, and with them the American. With what care each made the best of what he had, every soldier furbishing up his uniform and polishing his gun and washing his face and ears and smoothing his hair, and the women, how they gossiped among themselves about the lady and wondered if she were as beautiful as men said she was!
“Is she as beautiful?” Hsieh-ying asked Mayli.
“I think she is,” Mayli said smiling.
“But no more beautiful than you!” Pansiao cried jealously.
“Much more beautiful,” Mayli said, still smiling.
“I have seen her once,” Siu-chen said proudly. “She came long ago, before the war, to our school and talked about keeping ourselves clean and our garments buttoned and what she called New Life. She was very beautiful, it is true. I remember she saw my hands that day — chapped, you know, Elder Sister, as they always are in winter — and she spoke to the principal and told her to buy a foreign cream for me. But we never did. It cost too much.”
In the mid-afternoon all were ready for inspection, and Mayli stood very straight before her lines of young women, and the Chairman and his lady came by with the American, thin and lean and gray-haired, and with them was the General. They all saluted the four and all kept their faces grave as the great ones passed by. But the lady stopped and said in her easy way,
“You all look beautiful, and never more beautiful than you are now, ready to serve your country.” And to Mayli, she said, “Are you happy?”
“Yes, Lady,” Mayli replied, not moving.
But still the lady lingered, and she put two delicate fingers on Mayli’s sleeve and she said in a low voice, “You may come to me in half an hour.”
But be sure the women heard, and they were envious of her, some gently who loved her and some not so gently. And after half an hour Mayli went to the house which was headquarters and there for nearly an hour the lady kept her. She was alone, for the Chairman was busy with his commanders, and because she was alone that lady put free and piercing questions to Mayli.
“I told you to be my eyes and ears,” she began, “and so tell me all you have seen and heard.”
She listened while Mayli talked, and every now and again she thrust in a barbed question.
When the hour was nearly spent she put her hands before her eyes and sighed deeply. Mayli waited for her to speak, but she only said, “Go back to your bed. You have been faithful eyes and faithful ears, but you have told me heavy news, heavier than you meant to tell.”
At this moment the Chairman came in, and as soon as he saw the lady he said quickly, “You are not well!”
“Indeed, I feel I am ill,” she said.
The Chairman bent over her, and he waved his hand toward Mayli.
“Go — go,” he said, “bid the doctor to come here.”
She was about to hasten away when the lady protested willfully, “No, only take me home. Let us go home at once. Tell them to prepare the plane instantly.”
She rose and walked about as though she were in pain, and so the Chairman gave the order to the guard who was always at the door, and Mayli came away.
In only a little while they all heard the plane soar over their heads and turn eastward and after they were gone and Mayli had dismissed her women, the courts were full of talking and wondering and laughter and admiration for the two who were more than leaders to these simple girls. They saw in the two all the dream of love between man and woman, which they themselves might never have.
Even Mayli dreamed a little that night and she thought of Sheng with something more than she had thought of him for a long time. Had the Chairman been uncouth when he was young like Sheng? She remembered, as she always did, how he, too, had been the son of plain people, not much schooled, speaking no foreign tongue, accustomed to hardship and work. There were rumors enough that told of his mischievous youth. He had not always been this grave high man he was today. She sighed and wondered where Sheng was now and she rose from her bed and went to the window and stood looking out into the small piece of starry sky above the roofs and, feeling without thinking, she felt him suddenly very near.
And not too far away Sheng lay flat on his back on a pallet on the floor of the barracks, one in a long row of men. Behind the shut lids of his eyes he was seeing her face. He, too, had stood at the head of his own men without speaking while the Two Above had passed, but when the lady passed she gave him a full deep look and that look had lit his being because it made him think of Mayli.
He would not turn or toss and why should he let himself be restless? He might never see her again.
For after the inspection was over the Chairman had called all the young commanders to him.
“Tomorrow,” he had said, “you shall lead your men across the border. We will wait no more.”
And then his profound eyes had singled out Sheng. “You tall fellow,” he said kindly, “here you are. I remember you, your name and your home. I sent you here because you are one of my best men. I have told your General that if there is any task too hard, he is to choose you for it.”
At these words Sheng’s pride rose in him like a banner. “And I will do it,” he said.
… Mayli walked across the border at the head of her young women.
“We are on foreign soil,” she thought, and felt a dread rise through her bones and marrow. On this soil who knew what would happen to all these she led?
It was a morning without cloud or shadow of any kind, and all were on foot, since the roads of this region of Burma were narrow and winding and not fit for vehicles. Ahead of them were the carriers, bearing weapons and food. Ahead of those were soldiers. She could see them winding like a huge long beast, the men in their blue uniforms packed together. She wore the same uniform and so did her young women. So too did the General himself, who had nothing to tell he was different from the soldiers, save his badge of blue enamel upon which was the white star of China. Behind them were more soldiers, winding as far as eye could see.
She smiled at her women. They looked fresh and strong under the morning sun, their skins were brown and their eyes clear. Not one had paint nowadays on her lips or cheeks. Such things were forgotten. She had put away her own foreign lipstick and powder and she washed her face with hot water and soap as they all did. Sometimes at night they rubbed a little mutton fat into their wind-burned cheeks and hands and that was all. Yet never had she felt so strong nor looked so well and that she knew. Even An-lan was beginning to lose her paleness. The slender girl smiled no more than she ever did, but the look of misery had left her eyes.
Now as she caught Mayli’s glance she said seriously, “It is the first time our armies have ever marched on foreign soil.”
“It is indeed,” Mayli answered, surprised and suddenly grave. Yes, this was the first time that Chinese men and women had ever left their own land to fight. She marched on, thinking of this as she went. Behind them lay China, and all around them and ahead of them was Burma. She lifted her eyes and looked at the green hills. Had a knife cut through here, it would have divided Burma into Upper and Lower. To the right of them the land rose rougher, even as they could see, than it did to the left. Northward it would break into uneven hills that grew quickly into mountains, but southward the land leveled toward the sea. The road wound itself, reasonlessly, it seemed, doubled and crooked, as human feet had found the easiest way to walk, century upon century. It was rich country. The rice fields were green even now, and she saw the farmers bent over them. Sometimes like a lamp across the green they saw the saffron of a priest’s robe. There were many priests here, many of them young.