Yong yawned and stretched his arms. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up in bed. It was a beautiful morning. He remembered he was to go to Grandmother’s house today. He smiled at being big enough to go on his own. Even though she lived right down the lane, very close indeed, it still meant he was growing up. He jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. He looked out the window to see if Bao was in the yard, but she was nowhere to be seen. Hearing his mother bustling in the kitchen, he went downstairs, his stomach telling him it was time for breakfast.

 Yong’s mother smiled. “Your father is working hard on Emperor Qin’s Great Wall to protect the country and keep out invaders. Well, my son, what will you do today?” “You said I could go to Grandmother’s house to get some flour for you. I’ll take the cart and I’ll teach Bao how to pull it.” “Little one, you can’t teach Bao to do that. Is that what she was born to do?” A loud noise at the opened door interrupted them. Suddenly, a large goose flapped its way into the kitchen.

“Good morning!” said Yong’s mother as she put out a bowl of porridge and some bread for his breakfast. “Did you sleep well?”  “Yes, Mother. I dreamed I was flying over the big wall that Father is building.”

“Bao, shoo! Out of the kitchen!” Yong’s mother scolded. “Oh, that goose has a mind of her own.” “C’mon, Bao,” said Yong as he picked up the goose. Yong was a strong boy for his age. But Bao was flapping her wings so hard that Yong had trouble holding on as he carried her outside. “Stay here until I finish breakfast, Bao,” ordered Yong as he placed the goose on the ground. Bao fluttered about and squawked, clearly annoyed at her abrupt removal from the kitchen.

After breakfast, Yong went outside where Bao was waiting. Yong pulled the cart from the side of the house and placed it behind Bao. Bao eyed it suspiciously. “Bao, I’m going to put this rope around your middle. Then we can go to Grandmother’s house and carry home flour in the cart,” said Yong.

Yong grabbed the rope from the front of the cart and started wrapping it around Bao. But Bao was quicker than Yong. Before Yong knew what was happening, Bao extended her wings and half flew, half ran, down the lane. “Wait, Bao! Come back!”

Yong ran after the goose, trying to keep up. As they came to the lake near their house, Bao suddenly took flight, skimming the water’s surface and leaving ripples behind her as she furiously flapped her wings. Yong watched Bao as she swooped across the lake. Yong felt so angry that Bao had not listened to him, but then felt such sadness because Bao had run away from him. He remembered his father’s words to him about forcing Bao to be something she wasn’t.

“You can’t treat Bao as you would a dog, my little one,” Yong’s father would say. “Bao is a goose, and a very fine one at that. She lays eggs, has had many babies and even eats the weeds so your mother and I don’t have to work so hard in the garden. Appreciate her for what she is, not what you wish her to be.”

Yong strained his eyes to see where Bao had gone. He looked back at his house. His mother wouldn’t want him to run off, but he had to find Bao and apologize. He started running along the lake, calling out, “Bao, Bao, come back! I’m sorry!” After a while, Yong grew tired. He had been walking a very long distance. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat down at the edge of the lake. A single tear rolled down his cheek. What would he do if he couldn’t find Bao?

Yong felt so sad. He began to cry, and soon just lay on the ground, completely overcome with grief. After a while, he felt himself slipping into a deep sleep. His body seemed weightless. He couldn’t tell what was real and what was a dream. One minute, he was lying on a fluffy white cloud, and the next, he was flying through the air on Bao’s back!

“Bao,” he cried, “Bao, I thought I had lost you!”

Yong held on to Bao as the goose dipped and swooped and dove and did circles in the air.  “Bao, I never knew you could fly like this!” Yong cried, holding tightly to Bao’s long neck. 

Yong and Bao flew farther and farther over lakes and fields and forests. Soon they came to a very long wall snaking far across the horizon. Workers scurried about, laying bricks, pushing wheelbarrows and making a great noise. Suddenly, Yong spied someone familiar. “Father,” he called. “Father!”

“Go down, Bao!” Yong directed. Once on the ground, he ran to his father and hugged him hard. “Father, I found you. Please come home. Please….” His father smiled at him, but his eyes were sad.  “Yong, I told you I must

help build this wall. Emperor Qin has said everyone must work at certain jobs. He doesn’t want me to be a teacher anymore. He thinks it’s more important to finish the wall. So I have no choice. I must stay here. I can’t help you find Bao. I’m sorry.”

Yong walked across the meadow to the woods. He didn’t know where he was going. He just knew he had to keep looking. The woods were thick. Sunlight peeked through the trees. The ground was a carpet of leaves, broken tree limbs and twisted roots. Yong rounded a thick stand of trees and stopped. Through the trees he saw a warrior in a clearing. He squinted his eyes. No, not one warrior. More, he thought. Strange that he didn’t hear them. Or that they weren’t moving. He took a few steps towards them. Still no sound. He grew curious. What kind of soldiers were these? Closer and closer Yong crept. He was stepping over some tree roots when his foot caught. Losing his balance, he felt himself crashing through branches and into the clearing.

Yong was going to respond, but a fog seemed to come over everything. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground next to the lake. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was a dream. It was only a dream. Bao was still lost. And his father was still working on the wall.

Yong landed hard on his stomach at the foot of a soldier. He began breathing heavily, scared of what the soldier might do. He kept staring at the soldier’s boot, not daring to look up. He stared. And he stared. And he stared. It seemed that hours had gone by, not just a few moments. Finally, very, very slowly, Yong lifted his head.

The soldier looked straight ahead. That was odd. Yong lifted his hand and touched the warrior’s boot. It was cold, hard, like stone. Yong got to his feet, and was astonished at what he saw.

As far as the eye could see were warriors, some on horses, some kneeling, some standing. A sea of soldiers, but no one moved.

  Yong tried to explain what had happened. How Bao didn’t want to be a dog. How Yong had to find her to apologize. How he was just curious about the soldiers. The old man stood silently, like the soldiers. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. “Well, my boy, I don’t know where your goose is, but since you’re so curious, would you like to know who these soldiers are?” Yong nodded.

“Who are you, boy?” A voice startled Yong as a hand grabbed his shoulder.  Petrified, Yong turned toward the voice. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My name is Yong. I’m looking for my goose.”

The man in front of Yong was old, and his clothes were speckled with paint. He held a paintbrush, which he was now pointing at Yong. “Your goose? What would your goose be doing here?”

“These soldiers will guard Emperor Qin in the afterlife,” the old man explained. “There will be thousands of statues made of soldiers, generals, horses, chariots…even acrobats and musicians and animals, such as geese. Whatever the Emperor wants to have. I’m one of the painters. Notice how each statue is different, each face having a different expression, just like in real life. I’ll give you a tour.” The painter seemed very proud to show his work to Yong. They walked through rows and rows of figures.   “I’ve never seen so many statues

before,” said Yong, his eyes wide with amazement. The old man nodded, pleased that Yong was so interested.

They stopped at the entrance of a large brick building. “Here’s the kiln where the clay figures are fired and become hard,” said the old man. “This clay is terracotta, which is very strong after firing. After the figures are fired is when my work begins. That’s when I and the other painters put the color on.”  Yong saw the worker making the figure of a soldier. How hot it is, he thought.

The old man smiled. “The Emperor wants to make sure he will always be protected, and that he will always be amused, wherever he is. He is spending a lot of money and using thousands of people to make that happen.”  Yong was about to tell the painter how his father used to be a teacher but now worked on the Emperor’s Great Wall when a shriek ripped through the air. “I know that sound! It’s Bao!” squealed Yong.  A rush of wind and the sound of flapping wings, and there was Bao, landing atop one of the clay horses.

“Bao, you’ve come back! I’m so sorry! Never run away again!” Yong jumped up to try to reach Bao, but she was too high. With a ruffle of her feathers, Bao gave a few more squawks, then swooped downward and landed in front of Yong.  Yong dropped to his knees and threw his arms around the goose. “Well, young man, I see you’ve found Bao,” said the old man. “I guess this has been quite a journey for you both.” Yong heard the old man’s words and thought about what he had seen that day. How remarkable it was that people could create thousands of soldiers of stone. And he also thought about how an Emperor could make people do whatever he wanted. How his father just wanted to come home and be a teacher. “I think I will treat Bao like a goose now. She should be who she was created to be.” The old man smiled.

“You are a wise child, Yong.”

Yong and Bao returned home that day.  After a very long scolding from his mother, and many apologies and promises to never leave home again like that, Yong felt happy to have Bao with him again.    True to his word,

from that time forward, Yong let Bao be who she was—a goose who knew she would never be a dog.