Chapter Text
Xialing has been trying and failing to get into a position to fall asleep for an hour now.
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with the bed—the earnings from her establishment in Macau have allowed her to put herself, her brother, and Katy up in a rather luxurious hotel while they figure out what to do with the Ten Rings (the deadly artifacts of immense power that Ba left his son), as well as what to do with the Ten Rings (the deadly organization that Ba built over thousands of years of bloodshed).
And, well, also because Xialing and her brother aren’t quite willing to part ways just yet, though neither of them have said as much.
So it’s not the hotel’s fault, and it’s not that she isn’t tired. The battle in Ta Lo was merely three days ago, and they left only this morning. It has been a packed day of emotional goodbyes, travel—on foot through the forest, then by Uber to the nearest city, as Ta Lo doesn’t exactly have gas stations—and then, once they got here, dinner in a hotpot joint followed by several rounds of karaoke, since apparently her brother and Katy don’t know the meaning of a quiet night in. Her bones are practically weeping in exhaustion.
Still, she tosses and turns, far too aware of what day it is as the digital clock on the nightstand switches to 12am.
Once it reaches the point where she’s counting lumps on the popcorn ceiling, Xialing gives up and gets up.
She opens the door to find her brother already standing there in the hallway, knuckles raised and poised to knock. She blinks.
“Oh. Hi,” Shang-Chi says eloquently.
“Hello,” she replies, measured. Her eyes flicker to the nondescript chest in his other hand that holds perhaps one of the most powerful weapons known to man. “Did you want to talk out in the hall?”
“Actually…” he looks past her to where Katy’s sound asleep, then rubs the back of his neck. “I’d prefer not to leave her alone.”
Xialing’s first instinct is to roll her eyes, but after everything they’ve been through in the past few days, the paranoia is probably warranted. “Very well, we can talk quietly. Your friend’s a pretty deep sleeper, anyway.”
She lets him in, then invites him to take a seat next to her on her bed. She does not let the déjà vu overwhelm her senses.
Shang-Chi’s fingers tap a silent rhythm on the wooden chest as he sits. Xialing nudges his arm.
“May I see them?”
“Oh yeah, sure.” He unclasps the chest, slowly opening the lid. The rings seem to gleam in the dim glow of the clock.
Xialing lifts one of them from its cushioned slot. It hums in her hands, all but calling her to slip it over her wrist.
Shang-Chi clears his throat.
“So. Shall we address the elephant in the room?”
“English has such odd idioms,” Xialing muses. She switches into Mandarin. “Seventeen years now.”
Shang-Chi follows suit, the tongue of their mother rolling off of his with ease. “Twenty-two, if you count the Blip.”
Right, that. It’s a small mercy that the universe seems to have spared both Xialing and her brother the additional trauma of dealing with the aftermath of a global massacre.
He fiddles with the wooden grain of the chest. “Do you… do you remember when you told me you could feel her when you were fighting?”
How the hell could she forget? That conversation has been playing on repeat in her mind since the night it occurred. Shang-Chi seems to realize it’s a stupid question, because he continues without waiting for her response. “When our aunt was training me, I felt it.” They’re both being careful about their volume, but in this moment, he sounds especially small. “I felt her.”
“She was everywhere in that place,” Xialing murmurs. “I have not missed her so keenly since… it’s been a long time.”
“I know what you mean.”
It’s almost surreal, how easily her brother speaks of their mother. Ten years ago, he would have shut down. Ten years ago, he did shut down.
Xialing worries at her lower lip. “There is another elephant.”
Beside her, Shang-Chi stiffens. The last thing she wants is to hurt him, but she needs to say it.
“You left me with him.” She turns over the ring in her hand. “And then you found another sister.”
“Lingling—”
“She’s brave,” she says quietly, staunchly ignoring the way her heart twinges at the sound of that nickname. She glances over at Katy, who is sprawled out on her bed like a king, her mouth slightly ajar. Her left leg has poked out from under the covers, revealing bright red pajama pants patterned with candy canes. It is not even remotely close to the holiday season.
When Xialing turns back to her brother, it’s to see that he’s followed her gaze. His eyes are crinkled and tender as he watches over his friend. It is a look that she knows well.
Katy’s brought out another side of Shang-Chi that Xialing isn’t quite as familiar with, a part of him that echoes half-formed memories of a time when their family was whole. It’s a part that laughs freely and often, that drips with self-deprecating sarcasm and occasional mischief, that is maybe a little irreverent, a little childish.
America really did make him soft. Or, well. Perhaps it was their father who hammered all that softness out of him, and America—Katy—simply coaxed it back out.
“I am glad you found her. Truly.”
Her brother smiles to himself, small, sad. “It’s cheesy, but she was the one who found me.” His mouth twitches. “Like, literally. I was the only other Asian kid in our homeroom freshman year and she all but insisted we become friends by dragging me into her schemes every other day.”
He looks back to Xialing, his smile slipping, his eyes meeting hers with a sincerity that has her throat closing in emotion she hasn’t allowed herself to feel for years.
“She’s my best friend, but you are my sister, and she has never replaced you. You can both fit in my heart. And—” His voice cracks, but he swallows thickly and continues. “And you know… you know I never stopped thinking about you, right? If I’d known that you’d left that compound, I would have gone to search for you right away.”
His hands are shaking where they grip the chest. Xialing reaches for them, and finds herself relieved that he doesn’t pull away.
“I should’ve gone back for you even when you were still with him, but…” He takes a breath, the sound rattling between them. “I was—I was a coward, and you suffered for it, and I’m so, so sorry.”
It’s everything Xialing has been wishing to hear. She’s been waiting for an apology, an acknowledgment of the hurt he caused, a confirmation that he missed her even a fraction of the amount that she missed him while they were apart. Yet as her brother confesses his regret, as guilt spills out of him in waves, she realizes that it’s the last thing she wants.
“No, no, I’m—I’m glad that you left.” It’s jarring how much she means it. “You didn’t have a choice.”
“I definitely did.”
“But he would have destroyed you if you stayed much longer.” I could have lost you forever.
She still remembers the legacy of anger etched into every line of her brother’s body. She can still hear the crack of batons against his back as though it were yesterday. Even as he looks at her now with eyes that are open and unguarded, she can picture the way they used to shutter, retreating behind the wall that their father built between them brick by brick, day by day.
Shang-Chi doesn’t answer, instead looking down at the rings in the chest. Xialing pauses, then leans her head on his shoulder, a shiver of familiarity shooting down her spine as he rests his head on hers, the movement automatic.
Her turn to clear the hesitation from her throat. “Do you think he is with her now?”
“I hope so.”
“I hope she rips him a new one.”
Shang-Chi chuckles, though it sounds half-hearted. “I hope she forgives him,” he says softly.
Forgiveness. Ba should have peace in the afterlife as anyone should, but Xialing doesn’t know if she would go so far as to wish him complete absolution.
Perhaps that makes her callous. Perhaps it’s not her fault. After all, if Katy brought back Shang-Chi’s light, being left alone with their father shaped the darkness in Xialing until she became a jagged shard of her former self.
She sighs. “Do you forgive him?”
“I don’t know.” He traces the writing engraved on one of the rings. “He was not a good father.”
“No.”
“But he loved us. And he did the right thing, in the end.”
She purses her lips, straightening. “Does that absolve him of all the harm he inflicted?”
Does it erase the way Shang-Chi used to go rigid every time their father walked into a room, the way Xialing shrank further and further into herself as she struggled to feel seen in her own home?
“I don’t know that either.” He lets out a long breath. Xialing closes her eyes, and she can hear the whooshing of leaves on air in that breath, the wind whistling past her ears as she takes to the skies. When she opens them again, her brother is watching her, something complicated in his gaze. She will learn to read him again someday.
She passes over the ring that she holds, and he returns it to its spot in the chest. The lid clicks shut. “I don't even know if that's for me to say," he continues. "Maybe it's something to work out in therapy.”
Xialing can’t help it; she snorts.
“What, I’m serious!”
She stares, disbelieving. “Can you imagine explaining our story to a therapist?”
Shang-Chi sets the chest on the bed, shrugs a shoulder. “I think they have ones who specialize in superheroes by now.”
That has her stifling a laugh against her hand. “You did not just call yourself a superhero.”
“Hey, we all just saved the world. I think that counts for something.”
“Sure, sure. What’s next, Shang-Chi, the Chinese Avenger?”
“Wow. Wow, okay, Xialing the fucking dragon rider.”
Xialing raises an eyebrow. “I never called myself that, and besides, that’s true.”
He shakes his head, shoving her lightly into the pillows instead of bothering to find a comeback, and then she can’t hold back her grin, which only makes him pout—her brother, pouting—which only makes her dissolve into giggles.
Until Katy stirs, mumbling in irritation. She slowly blinks her eyes open, taking a moment to focus on the two siblings on the other bed, frozen in sheepish tableau.
Oops.
Katy rubs her eyes blearily. “Keep it down, kids,” she mutters.
“Sorry,” Shang-Chi whispers.
“What’s even going on?”
“My sister’s bullying me,” he says with a pointed glare. Xialing levels an unruffled stare right back.
Katy stretches, then lets out an impressive yawn. “Well, you probably deserved it.”
“Shang-Chi wants to be an Avenger,” Xialing supplies helpfully.
At that, Katy sits upright, fully alert with a speed that is frankly alarming. One of the pillows on her bed slides to the floor with a muted thump. “Dude. Dude, wait, wait.”
“We’re waiting.”
“That’s an awesome idea. You should both become Avengers, and then I can be the trusty sidekick, and we can tell my mom and Soo and everyone else who’s been telling us to grow up to suck it.”
Xialing tilts her head, bemused. “Oh, Katy, you would not be our sidekick.”
Shang-Chi gives her a look that could almost be identified as gratitude. “Yeah man, didn’t you, uh, shoot an ancient demon monster out of the sky?” he chimes in. “Plus, Hawkeye just retired, right?” He waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe they need a new archer.”
“You’re just saying that to make up for waking me up,” Katy huffs, but she looks pleased. “Was having a real good dream, too. There were ninjas in it.”
Shang-Chi splutters. “That wasn’t even my fault! And hey, how many times have you FaceTimed me in the middle of the night?”
Xialing settles back against the pillows, watching the two of them fall into a cadence that speaks of years of easy banter. Later, she’ll join in to gang up on her brother, but for now, she just smiles.
The chest containing the Ten Rings sits off to the side. Shang-Chi’s hand rests on the lid, relaxed.
There’s no blood. No bandages. Only faint scars that will continue to fade with time.