From jasmine rice, two hatchlings were born: An Elder Twin and a Younger Twin. The farmer who found them in her rice bowl was surely aghast, mistaking the birds as giant maggots and carrying it to toss in the river. Before she could do so, however, the heavens gave the Elder Twin a voice to speak.

“Please don’t throw our lives away, we were just born yesterday. If you let us live, we will repay you for the rice bed that we made our home.”

“Very well,” the farmer said, stroking her wrinkly chin, “But you must know that the rice you live in is one year’s worth of labor. You’ll practically lose your entire childhood working for me.”

Elder Twin nodded, “My brother and I thank you, but don’t worry. With our hard work, we will be ever patient and diligent to you.”

True to their word, the Twin Birds worked for one year. In fact, they were much swifter and worked twice as hard as the farmer, especially Younger Twin. Each day, Younger Twin learned new words from her while she only grew more wrinkles. Once he learned to speak, he would tell his brother every day:

“I can’t wait to finish our work! The sooner we finish, the sooner we can eat and rest.”

Elder Twin always answered, “Yes, brother, but remember not to rush. Our farmer grows old, so our work must be done right.”

Younger Twin didn’t mind if his brother’s answer was the same. As long as he had his brother, the work would always be done.

Once one year had passed and the rice was fully harvested, the farmer was so full that she could pass away in her sleep peacefully. The Twins knew she would grow old as soon as they were born, and they knew she had no relatives, so they missed her dearly. 

The more they thought of her, the more they mourned. The more they mourned, the more they yearned for work. Moved by their lament, the villagers fulfilled their wish and welcomed them to their crops. In return for their servitude, they earned new titles and new duties to fulfill. 

Elder Twin became “the voice of the heavens”, giving advice to the farmers when the time to grow crops was right and when to take caution before famine or cold skies could arrive.

Younger Twin became “the voice of the people”, motivating them to do their work when they grew weary and working with them if they were too slow or sloppy. 

However, villagers would often confuse one Twin for the other. Some yelled at Elder Twin for sitting around and giving advice when he promised to work. Some yelled at Younger Twin for his pep talk and doing their work when he told them it was too soon to do so. One day, Younger Twin couldn’t stand it anymore.

“These villagers are ruffling my feathers, brother. They squabble so much, even I can’t tell who’s the Elder Twin!”

“This is true," Elder Twin sighed, “But what can we do? I’ve tried to ignore it and let it pass, but even I lose faith in them sometimes.”

The Twin Birds thought. The longer they thought, the more anxious they grew. Then, the younger one spotted a painter near the bottom of a cliff.

“I’ve got it!" Younger Twin tweeted, "We’ll use the painter’s paints to coat our feathers as we please. Then the villagers will finally be able to tell us apart.”

Elder Twin looked to the heavens, then looked towards his brother, “Very well then. Be mindful to ask for the painter’s permission first.”

“Of course I’ll ask, I’m not a savage,” Younger Twin boasted, “For I am the voice of the people, and you are the voice of the heavens.”

With the painter’s permission, the Twin Birds took the paints and the day off from their daily routine. However, once they both took the paintbrushes with their beaks, they noticed one problem: They couldn’t reach their own backs.

Elder Twin spat his paintbrush down before he spoke, “So much for painting ourselves as we please…”

Younger Twin spoke through the paintbrush in his mouth, “I guess we’ll have to paint each other…” 

His brother laughed.

At the crack of dawn, the Elder Twin was painted first. Since he valued his brother more than anyone, Younger Twin took his time to paint him as beautiful as he was with iridescent hues and eyes befitting for the voice of the heavens. Before noon, the Elder Twin was fully painted, and the Younger Twin puffed his chest high with a proud nod.

“I call this masterpiece, ‘The Peacock’. How do you like it, brother?”

“Magnificent, thank you!” his brother nodded back, “The name and the feathers are wonderful.”

“Now it’s my turn!” the Younger Twin hooted.

The Elder Twin, now the Peacock, took as much time as his brother did, searching for complementary colors to make him stand out on his own. 

The more he searched, however, the more the Younger Twin 

thought about his work. The more he thought about work, 

the more anxious he grew. The more anxious he grew, 

the more he squawked for his brother to hurry up. 

Soon, the squawks turned into a squabble.

“How long will this take?” The Younger Twin groaned.

“As long as you keep asking,” Peacock replied, adding the last strokes to his brother’s wings.

“But I’ve asked you several times! I lost track after the seventh time.”

“Yes, and my answer was the same each time.”