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“When’s your birthday?” the nice boy asks Quan Yizhen.
He’s sitting on a cushion behind a desk, writing on a paper with a long black brush. Quan Yizhen doesn’t know what the characters mean. He knows four characters. The ones in his name, and the one that means meat. None of them are on that paper.
“What’s a birthday?” he asks the nice boy. There are some interesting things on the desk, and he reaches out to grab them. The nice boy catches his hand before he does. He’s still got mud on his wrist from what Quan Yizhen threw at him.
“Those belong to Shifu, and they’re delicate,” the nice boy explains. Quan Yizhen doesn’t know what most of those words mean, so he ignores the whole sentence and reaches for the stuff on the desk again. The nice boy jumps completely over the desk to kneel in front of him.
“You really don’t know what a birthday is?” he reaches out and wipes something off of Quan Yizhen’s face — probably more mud.
“No, what’s that?” Quan Yizhen looks up at the boy’s face. His eyes are green and his black hair is shiny and straight, not like Quan Yizhen’s at all. He doesn’t answer right away, and Quan Yizhen tries to reach for the stuff on the desk again. The nice boy takes his hands, and Quan Yizhen prepares to fight him, but he only seems to want to hold them.
Nobody’s ever done that before.
“A birthday is the day your parents brought you into this world,” the nice boy finally says.
“Don’t have parents,” Quan Yizhen narrows his eyes. Usually when people talk about parents they’re dragging him by the hair to try to find them so he can be punished. But there’s no one to punish him, so people usually just beat him up themselves.
If they can.
The nice boy stops again, and he squeezes Quan Yizhen’s hands. His hands are really strong, and Quan Yizhen wants to fight him again. It would be fun.
“You… count birthdays, and add them up and that’s how old you are. I’m sixteen, because I’ve had sixteen birthdays. I think you’ve had about ten of them.”
Quan Yizhen shrugs, since he doesn’t know what sixteen is.
The nice boy smiles, and it makes Quan Yizhen feel warm even though he really doesn’t have a clue what’s going on.
“I was asking for your birthday to put in our records. As I said before, we want you to come live here and cultivate with us.”
“What’s cultivate?” Quan Yizhen asks. He’s still holding the nice boy’s hands and his face is itchy, but he ignores it because he doesn’t want to stop.
The nice boy scrunches up his nose and Quan Yizhen laughs because it looks funny. “It’s… refining your mind, body, and spirit… you’ll learn… well, I suppose um…”
Quan Yizhen tips his head to the side questioningly.
A grin splits the nice boy’s face. “You said you wanted to learn to fight better?”
Jumping up, Quan Yizhen pumps the air with his fists, “Yeah!”
“Then,” the nice boy stands up, “you can start by calling me Shixiong.”
“The Mid-Autumn Festival is tomorrow and if you don’t shape up, you’re not going, you brat!” the loud boy yells, dragging Quan Yizhen by the ear across the courtyard.
Quan Yizhen doesn’t like the loud boy, so he doesn’t listen to him. He doesn’t need to shape up anyway. The other boys are the ones who started it, making fun of his hair that Shixiong just put up. Quan Yizhen beat them into the dirt and then they cried to the loud boy like they didn’t start it.
And now Quan Yizhen’s ear really hurts. But he can’t do anything about it. The loud boy is much bigger than he is, and there aren’t any big rocks in the courtyard to throw. He doesn’t cry or yell, because yelling means the loud boy won. And the loud boy is never going to win.
“Yin Yu!” the loud boy calls when they get close to the sect’s main building. And Quan Yizhen gets excited because that’s Shixiong’s name and if Shixiong comes out, he’ll understand that Quan Yizhen was only defending his honor. He struggles a little against the loud boy’s hold, but the loud boy just uses that as an excuse to box his ears.
“Jian Yu, what’s wrong?” Shixiong comes running out of the building. He has ink on his face because he writes all the time. He told Quan Yizhen that he’s going to teach him how to read, and Quan Yizhen will learn because it’s Shixiong, but he doesn’t actually want to.
“This brat is getting in fights with the other shidi again! He broke Li Yao’s tooth!”
“Don’t hold him like that Jian Yu, you’re going to tear his ear off.”
“If I let go of him, he’s going to attack me.”
He’s not wrong.
“Yizhen,” Shixiong crouches down so they’re eye level. “Promise me that you won’t attack Jian Yu.”
Quan Yizhen scowls but Shixiong smiles and if Quan Yizhen attacks the loud boy, Shixiong will stop smiling.
“I promise.”
The loud boy lets go of his ear, and backhands him so hard he staggers across the courtyard. Quan Yizhen wants nothing more than to come roaring back at him, but he promised Shixiong. So he stands still with clenched fists, staring at the loud boy like he could set him on fire with his mind.
“Jian Yu was that really necessary?”
“I think one of the boys has a broken wrist. This brat doesn’t belong here. This is the fifth fight he’s gotten into since he arrived. I don’t care if he’s got the proper martial spirit or whatever Shifu thinks he has, he’s nothing but trouble.”
Quan Yizhen doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, besides the fact that the loud boy wants him to leave. He squeezes his fists so tight he can feel his nails dig into his palms.
“That’s enough,” Shixiong tells the loud boy. “Go see after the boys. I’ll take care of Yizhen.”
“I’m sure you will,” the loud boy scoffs, then turns to leave, glaring at Quan Yizhen as he goes.
He promised Shixiong. That’s why he isn’t chasing after the loud boy and kicking out the back of his knees. But if the two of them fought right now, Quan Yizhen thinks he would win.
“Yizhen, come inside with me,” Shixiong says. He goes into the building without waiting, and Quan Yizhen has to run to catch up. As he runs, he starts to feel all the hurts that he’s gathered since the fight. He ignores them, but some of them are bad, in particular his chest, which hurts when he takes a breath. His ear is the sharpest pain. Maybe the loud boy really did pull it off a little.
Shixiong walks into the depths of the building, into a room where Quan Yizhen has never been before. It smells really good, and there are a lot of little clay pots on the shelves. There are two stools next to a small table, and many other things that Quan Yizhen sees but doesn’t pay any attention to.
Sitting down on one of the stools, Shixiong gestures to the other. “Sit Yizhen.”
It hurts his chest to sit, but Quan Yizhen tries to keep Shixiong from noticing.
Shixiong notices.
“Open the upper part of your robes,” he instructs. Quan Yizhen struggles to do it, but it hurts his chest to lift his arms. He grits his teeth and does it anyway, only to feel Shixiong’s hand on his wrist.
“Here, let me help.”
He pulls Quan Yizhen’s robes open, then his rough hands are softly probing Quan Yizhen’s chest, until he finds a spot that makes Quan Yizhen hiss in pain he can’t contain.
“You have a broken rib. This is going to hurt for at least two months, and if you don’t take it easy, it won’t heal properly. That means no more fights. Why were you fighting anyway?”
“They started it!” Quan Yizhen shouts, then winces at the pain it causes. “They said the way Shixiong did my hair looked stupid.”
Shixiong looks at him for a long moment, and then he laughs. “Please Yizhen, do not feel the need to defend my honor as a hairdresser.”
“But my hair looks great! I saw it in the pond! I’m gonna wear it like this always!”
“As you like,” Shixiong says, pulling his robes back together. “Now let’s take a look at all of these cuts.”
Quan Yizhen’s injuries are not used to gentle treatment. A splash of water to wash out the dirt, and he was always on his feet again. But Shixiong doesn’t seem to understand that Quan Yizhen doesn’t need tending to. He opens some of the clay pots and takes out dried up plants that he mashes into a paste. He rubs it on Quan Yizhen’s wounds, then wraps them in bandages. It soothes pains that Quan Yizhen wouldn’t even acknowledge.
“Yizhen, this fighting can’t continue,” Shixiong says softly. “I know you are used to having to defend yourself against the world, but you don’t have to do that here. The sect will not let any harm come to you. None of its members will harm you either.”
“They started it, Shixiong!” Quan Yizhen insists as Shixiong puts the clay jars and bandages away.
“Sometimes, true strength is ignoring those who upset us,” Shixiong says. And Quan Yizhen doesn’t know how that can possibly work, but Shixiong is very strong and no one ever bothers him, so maybe it’s somehow true.
“But they started it, Shixiong,” he says again.
“Did it hurt you when they said those things?”
Quan Yizhen’s nostrils flare. “No way! But they said something Shixiong did was bad, so…”
Shixiong sits down on the stool again. “Next time someone says something bad about me, I want you to let it go, alright?”
Squirming, Quan Yizhen looks everywhere but at Shixiong.
“We are a sect, me, Jian Yu, those boys, and you. Sometimes we hurt each other with cruel words, but we do not strike out at a fellow disciple with violence. We’re a family, and I’m not sure you know what that means yet, but I hope the longer you stay here, the more you’ll learn.”
Quan Yizhen doesn’t understand most of what Shixiong is saying, but he can tell that he really doesn’t want him to fight anymore. He doesn’t want to stop fighting. He likes it, and it’s the only way people will listen to what he has to say and pay attention to him.
But Shixiong bandaged all of his wounds like no one ever had before.
“You said I’d learn to fight better!” He has never tried to negotiate before, so he is quite bad at it.
“Of course you will. We will train and spar.”
“What’s spar?”
Shixiong never laughs when Quan Yizhen doesn’t know what words mean. “Sparring is fighting without the intent to hurt the other person. It’s a way of training. I think you’ll be quite good at it if you give it a try. But you can’t stay in the sect and be a part of our family if you fight the other disciples, Yizhen.”
Family is a word that Quan Yizhen has heard before. He knows what it means. People who all live together and take care of each other. But Quan Yizhen has only ever taken care of himself. He can’t remember ever having someone else who cared.
But Shixiong might care.
“I want to stay,” Quan Yizhen gets off the stool, even though it hurts. “I won’t fight anymore, Shixiong.”
Shixiong smiles widely. “Good. Now there’s one other thing. Since you can’t remember your birthday, I thought you could pick one for yourself.”
“Why do I need a birthday?”
“So we can keep track of how old you are, and also because people give gifts on birthdays.”
“What’s a gift?”
“It’s probably better if I show you…”
Quan Yizhen knows what festivals are. They’re busy and chaotic, full of color and noise. Most importantly, they’re the best places to steal food. Some people steal it by being sneaky, but that has never been Quan Yizhen’s way. He steals openly, and then runs as fast as he can, stuffing the food in his face as quickly as possible. Not very many people can catch up with him, and even if they can, he can easily endure the beatings he gets. Bruises and cuts are definitely worth a bellyful of mantao.
But this festival, Quan Yizhen doesn’t have to steal food. In fact, he’s not sure if he could eat it even if he did steal some. They had a feast back at the sect and he ate more food than he’d ever eaten in his life. So much meat, so much rice. His belly is sticking out, it’s so full. If he tried to steal food today, he’s not sure he could run fast enough to get away.
He used to spy on the sect, watching them fight each other, learning from them the best he could. But he had no idea that being a part of it would mean he’d get to eat so much.
The disciples are walking towards the village’s festival together in a big group. They started out walking in two straight lines, with Shifu and Shixiong in the front, but it didn’t take long for the youngest disciples to get out of order, until they’re all walking in a big jumble. All of the other young disciples avoid Quan Yizhen, which is probably because he’s fought nearly all of them and won. Eventually, they reach the village square and Shixiong turns around, telling them to be good and not stay out too late.
Then everyone goes their own way and Quan Yizhen is left standing alone in his new blue sect robes. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s not hungry, no one has insulted him, there’s no reason to fight at all. But without those things, Quan Yizhen is directionless.
“Yizhen!” Shixiong calls out to him. Quan Yizhen turns and immediately bumps into a man he’s stolen food from before. Quan Yizhen expects a beating, or at least some yelling, but the man looks at him for a moment, shakes his head, then keeps going. Not about to question it, Quan Yizhen runs to Shixiong’s side.
“You looked lost,” Shixiong says, but his eyes are watching the man Quan Yizhen bumped into. Maybe he stole food from him too. Quan Yizhen isn’t sure about Shixiong. He lives at the sect, and not with a family so maybe he’s like Quan Yizhen and doesn’t have one. If so, he’s probably stolen food before. Maybe even from that man.
“I didn’t steal anything,” Quan Yizhen announces.
A small snort comes out of Shixiong’s nose. “Did you think I was worried you had? Yizhen, we just got here and you have a broken rib.”
In the past day Quan Yizhen has mostly forgotten about his broken rib, until he tries to bend or lift his arms or run or really anything required in the process of stealing. But he isn’t doing any of those things now because he is, for once, not stealing at a festival.
When he doesn’t get a response, Shixiong does this thing with his eyes that Quan Yizhen isn’t too sure about. But then he puts his hand on Quan Yizhen’s back and gently pushes him forward.
“Let me show you what a festival is really like,” he says.
Shixiong must be rich, because the first thing he does is buy Quan Yizhen even more food. Even though he is completely stuffed, Quan Yizhen takes an entire leg of roasted duck from a festival vendor, and eats it as fast as he can. He has no idea how long the food at the sect will last. If someone offers him something, he’s definitely going to eat it.
“This is the Mid-Autumn festival,” Shixiong tells him as he eats. “We celebrate by eating the fruits of the harvest, and by looking at the moon.”
“Why?” Quan Yizhen has looked at the moon plenty of times when he hadn’t been able to find a roof to sleep under. He’s not sure what’s so great about it.
Shixiong is also eating duck, and he has to finish chewing before he responds. “Ah, well, the moon is the most bright and round during this festival. It brings families together.”
“Don’t have a family,” Quan Yizhen says before he takes a big bite of his duck leg.
“You have us,” Shixiong smiles. And Quan Yizhen doesn’t care about us, but he likes it when Shixiong smiles. “Watch the moon with me, Yizhen. You might like it.”
They walk around the stalls and Shixiong buys Quan Yizhen more and more food. He’s eaten so much he feels sick, but he doesn’t say no to snails — which don’t taste very good — roasted chestnuts, something called “taro” which is a sticky paste that Quan Yizhen’s doesn’t like and then last of all, a round bing that Shixiong calls a mooncake. He won’t let Quan Yizhen eat it until they’re actually watching the moon.
It’s not like it’s going to do anything different, but Shixiong insists.
Quan Yizhen was too busy stealing to look at the stalls before, but as they wander, he notices all of the bright colors of the food, and also of things he is pretty certain are not for eating. He doesn’t know what they’re for, but they hang on long colored strings, with even more strings dangling in bunches from the bottom. Shixiong has one of them hanging from his belt, and Quan Yizhen assumes they must be very important. Shixiong stands in front of one of those stalls for a long time, then shiny coins trade from his hands to the stall keeper’s. But whatever he buys, Quan Yizhen doesn’t see it, he’s so busy staring longingly at the mooncake in Shixiong’s other hand.
“I’m going to show you the best place,” Shixiong turns to him and Quan Yizhen is temporarily distracted from the mooncake. “I’ve never even shown Jian Yu.”
Quan Yizhen is so full that he could burst, but the thought of knowing something that the loud boy doesn’t causes a warm pleasant feeling in his stomach. He clenches his fists in excitement as Shixiong leads him back into the village and around the buildings, finally stopping at an alley between two of the tallest Quan Yizhen knows of.
“Now, you have to trust me, Yizhen.”
Trust is a word Quan Yizhen does not know.
“Climb on my back, and I’ll get us up there.”
He has no idea how Shixiong can make it up to the top but he believes that he can anyway. Maybe that’s what trust means. Shixiong crouches in front of him, and Quan Yizhen flings himself onto his back. Shixiong takes the mooncake and places it in one of Quan Yizhen’s hands.
“Your job is to keep that from getting crushed, and to hold on tight.”
“En.” Quan Yizhen squeezes his arms and legs tight enough to make his ribs hurt, while holding the mooncake as gently as he knows how.
“A little looser than that actually,” Shixiong laughs. “Alright that’s perfect. Here we go.”
Shixiong runs straight at the wall and kicks off of it. His kick sends him flying towards the other building and then he kicks off of it as soon as he makes contact. He bounces back and forth between the buildings going up and up and up, and Quan Yizhen has never seen anything more amazing in his life.
“Shixiong!” he cries in delight when they land on the highest roof in the village. Shixiong laughs breathlessly and then falls backwards onto the slope of the roof as soon as Quan Yizhen has let go.
“I’ve never done that with another person on my back,” he laughs some more. “You’re heavy. Now here, sit next to me and let’s share this mooncake”
Quan Yizhen thinks a lot of things in that moment, but they’re a jumble in his mind, each thought clamoring for attention. The loudest rises to the top, and he blurts it out without even giving himself a chance to think about it.
“I want this to be my birthday, Shixiong!”
Shixiong is holding the mooncake in his hands, about to break it in half, when he stops and looks at Quan Yizhen in a way that makes Quan Yizhen feel like he’s not wearing any clothes.
“The Mid Autumn Festival is a day when everyone celebrates, Yizhen. Don't you want a day that's just for you?”
“I don’t care! I want it to be whenever we do this. When we have a feast, and we go to food stalls and even look at the moon. I want to do those things on my birthday with Shixiong! I don’t even need a gift, whatever that is!”
Stretching out his legs, Shixiong sighs and Quan Yizhen wonders if maybe he’s asked for something wrong. But then Shixiong pats the roof next to him. Quan Yizhen scrambles to sit. He ignores the dull ache of his broken ribs as he has been doing for the majority of the day.
“If you don’t need a gift, then what am I supposed to do with this?” Shixiong pulls out one of the long colored strings. It’s bright red and the moonlight catches on a piece of metal shaped like a flower that dangles from the string. Lots of little strings hang from the metal piece, and they sway in the evening breeze.
Even though he has no idea what it is, Quan Yizhen can’t take his eyes off it.
“It’s for luck,” Shixiong points out some characters stamped onto the flower. “Luck and protection. And a gift is something a person gives to another person to show they care about them. Here, let me show you how to attach it to your belt.”
Shixiong smells nice and the smell is everywhere as he leans forward and fiddles with Quan Yizhen’s belt. When it’s tied, he leans back and breaks the mooncake in half. There’s an egg yolk inside, and Quan Yizhen devours it. While he eats, he leans back and looks at the round moon.
With a full belly, a home to go back to, and someone who cares about him, Quan Yizhen is happier than he has ever been in his entire life.
The loud boy is sweating. He’s standing in front of all the young disciples like he has something important to say. Only he’s not saying it.
Shixiong is standing in the back of the room. He keeps laughing behind his sleeve, even though nothing funny is happening. Quan Yizhen doesn’t know why. He has been part of the sect for three years now, and he’s still not always sure why Shixiong laughs.
Clearing his throat loudly, the loud boy grabs everyone’s attention, and then he starts to speak.
“This uh… might not seem like a big deal now, but eventually you’re gonna start to notice, and you can’t bring any shame on the sect.”
One of the boys raises his hands, “Notice what, Jian Yu Shixiong?”
The loud boy is also supposed to be Shixiong, but Quan Yizhen will die before he calls him that.
“Girls,” the loud boy croaks.
Quan Yizhen turns to look at the true Shixiong for clarification, but Shixiong is laughing so hard he doesn’t notice Quan Yizhen’s look at all.
There are a lot of things that Quan Yizhen has begun to notice since coming to the sect. The way people walk, how they hold their arms, how aware they are of their swords, how balanced they are if they have one, and how much they’re paying attention.
He has never noticed girls, because you don’t fight girls.
“You all have a… a… well… a sword,” the loud boy stammers.
That isn’t true. Quan Yizhen wants a sword. He dreams about having a sword. He’d know if he had one already. The loud boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Quan Yizhen turns to look at Shixiong, only to find that he’s holding himself up against the wall, like he can’t stand on his own because he’s laughing too much. It is… kind of a joke, saying someone has a sword when he doesn’t? Kind of.
“It’s important that you think before you go… sticking your sword… around. You can get sick. Or girls can get pregnant. Or you can make their fathers angry and bring shame on the sect.”
Quan Yizhen really has no idea what he’s talking about.
The loud boy goes on, and Quan Yizhen stops paying attention. He’s pretty sure girls aren’t something he’s ever going to have to worry about. He watches Shixiong instead. He can tell that he’s trying very hard to stop laughing, but every time he calms down, he starts up again. It makes Quan Yizhen want to understand enough to laugh too.
“Thank you all for your attention,” the loud boy finally finishes. “We expect you to behave in a manner that brings honor to the sect.”
And then he storms out, pausing at Shixiong to hiss, “We are never flipping a coin to give this talk again.”
After that, he leaves and Shixiong finally makes eye contact with Quan Yizhen. He snorts out a laugh, then rolls his eyes, an action that Quan Yizhen now knows the name of, but still doesn’t quite grasp. Shixiong walks across the room as the other boys scatter, and he puts his hands on his hips as he looks down at Quan Yizhen.
“You didn’t understand any of that did you?”
“I don’t have a sword,” Quan Yizhen informs him. “I don’t know why he said we all have swords when we don’t.”
Shixiong smiles then bites his lip until it turns white. “Come with me then, Yizhen. Do you even remember what today is?”
“Yes!” Quan Yizhen jumps to his feet. “It’s my birthday!”
“Come with me before the feast,” Shixiong tips his head towards the door and Quan Yizhen follows.
Shixiong isn’t as tall as he used to be. Quan Yizhen comes up to his shoulder now. Someday he’s going to be taller than Shixiong is altogether, and the thought is very exciting. But they walk together through the buildings of the sect until they arrive at the rear-facing courtyard that no one ever uses. There’s a fountain there that doesn’t work anymore, and Shixiong sits on the edge of it and gestures for Quan Yizhen to sit next to him.
“Jian Yu’s talk today was about sex. Ostensibly.”
“I don’t know what that is, Shixiong.”
“You’ve never heard the other boys talking about it?”
“The other boys don’t talk around me,” Quan Yizhen says. And he isn’t sad, he isn’t, because Shixiong talks to him all the time.
“When you were living on your own, did you see farm animals um… on top of each other?” Shixiong’s voice sounds tight.
“Oh yeah! I’ve seen that. What are they doing?”
“Mating, to produce young. Humans do it too. That’s what your, well, Jian Yu called it a sword, but he really meant your penis.”
Quan Yizhen knows all about that. He knows it can make him feel good, and he does it a lot. “OH! But… how?”
Shixiong looks very uncomfortable and Quan Yizhen wonders if he is asking the wrong question, when Shixiong finally says, “There are places where you can put it inside another person. And it um… feels good for both people if you do it right. But you have to be careful because if you do it with the wrong person you can get sick. And if you do it with girls, they can get pregnant.”
“I just won’t do it with girls then,” Quan Yizhen asserts, giving Shixiong what seems to be a heart attack.
“Wait until you’re a little older to decide,” Shixiong says after a long pause.
“Okay!” Quan Yizhen says.
“Now,” Shixiong says weakly, “about your birthday.”
Quan Yizhen shoots upright and holds onto the edge of the fountain for dear life. No one has ever given him gifts before Shixiong, but that’s okay because Shixiong gives the best presents that you could possibly imagine. Quan Yizhen never needs anyone else to give him anything.
“Close your eyes,” Shixiong says, standing up.
His eyes hurt, Quan Yizhen is closing them so hard. He can hear Shixiong moving his robes around. And then something pointy is jabbing the middle of his chest.
He doesn’t wait for Shixiong to tell him he can open his eyes. They fly open on their own to see a sheathed sword pointed directly at his heart.
Quan Yizhen falls backwards into the empty fountain, but before Shixiong can even react, he bounces back out again, and starts jumping up and down in circles around him.
“A sword! Shixiong, a sword! Shixiong, is this real? Shixiong! Shixiong!”
Shixiong turns the sword around, holding out the hilt so Quan Yizhen can grab it. He puts an end to his jumping then rushes over, pulling the sword out of its sheath. It makes a ringing noise as it comes free, shiny silver steel bright in the sun. He can feel how it’s balanced, how it belongs in his hands so much more than the wooden ones they’ve been using. He easily slides into the forms he’s learned so far from the sect, then tries other moves, moves that he’s never seen before but just feel right. He swings and he swings and he swings, forgetting that it’s his birthday, forgetting to say thank you, forgetting everything but the feel of the sword in his hands.
Finally stopping, he sees Shixiong watching him. He’s smiling. Something about it is different, but Quan Yizhen can’t tell what it is. He doesn’t really have a reason to figure it out.
“A sword!” he yells. “Shixiong, spar with me!”
The strange smile fades away, replaced with a smile Quan Yizhen is more used to, and then Shixiong is drawing his sword with his spiritual power.
Shixiong’s sword has a name, Jiyue. Its crossguard is decorated with bronze-colored flowers and it has a pommel stone the same muddy green as Shixiong’s eyes. The stone shines next to Shixiong’s hand, but Quan Yizhen only glances at it before he’s throwing himself into battle.
Their swords clash, but Shixiong is stronger, and Quan Yizhen is forced back until he nearly falls into the fountain again. He jumps out of the way, trying to flank Shixiong, but Shixiong seems to know where he’ll be without even looking. Shixiong’s sword is everywhere, and he doesn’t take a single step, no matter how fast or how hard or in which direction Quan Yizhen comes at him. Shixiong is so good that Quan Yizhen decides then to never leave his side, so he can learn and become just as good. And then they can be great together.
Moving as fast as he can, Quan Yizhen finally, finally spots a small weak spot in Shixiong’s defenses, and he slashes forward making Shixiong take a single step back.
“Well done, Yizhen!” he praises sheathing Jiyue, and Quan Yizhen’s entire body vibrates with happiness.
“Let’s go again!” Quan Yizhen refuses to put his sword away. He’s never going to let it go.
“Do you really want to miss the Mid-Autumn feast because we’re sparring?”
“Yes!” Quan Yizhen says with deep conviction.
Shixiong rolls his eyes again, “Well I’m not about to miss it, so you can either stand around doing forms in this courtyard, or you can come with me.”
It takes him a moment to decide, and in that moment, Shixiong is already walking back towards the front of the sect.
Quan Yizhen has to run to catch up.
The month he turns sixteen, Shifu takes Quan Yizhen and a few other boys to a swordsmith who lives on a faraway mountain. It takes ten days to get there, through desolate country, and they sleep out under the stars. Quan Yizhen has never forgotten how to sleep outside, but the other boys make a quiet fuss when Shifu can’t hear. They make a fuss about a lot of things, including how annoying they think Quan Yizhen is. But he doesn’t care. Shixiong doesn’t think he’s annoying. When Quan Yizhen asked, Shixiong told him that his way of doing things is just fine. So he’s going to keep on doing them.
But that means Quan Yizhen ignores everyone else, wishing just that Shixiong had been allowed to come along. The other boys continue to make a fuss, so he sleeps far from them, all alone.
And he sleeps like a rock.
When they finally reach the smith, a young man with impressive muscles, Shifu tells Quan Yizhen to go first. He doesn’t even know what going first means, but the smith leads him into a small room full of swords.
“Call out with your spiritual power,” he tells Quan Yizhen. “The sword meant for you will answer.”
Then he leaves.
Quan Yizhen uses his spiritual powers without thinking about it ninety percent of the time. They just come out in fights when he wants something done and regular human strength won’t do. He’s very good at using them in that regard, but he’s not fighting right now. Calling to a room full of swords is something Shixiong would be good at. Shixiong casually cuts paper with his spiritual powers, where Quan Yizhen would probably shred it beyond use.
There’s all that difficulty, plus he already has a sword. Maybe it’s not a fancy sword with a name, like any of these, but he can still win whatever fight he’s in with it. And Shixiong gave it to him.
Still, Shixiong would probably be disappointed if he came home empty handed.
He sits in the middle of the floor and closes his eyes, not because this is a trick he uses to focus his spiritual powers, but because he’s seen Shixiong focus this way. He sits like this for awhile, not sure what to do.
Then he imagines a fight.
It’s with Shixiong. Shixiong is so powerful that they don’t spar much anymore, but when they do, courtyards get destroyed and that loudmouth Jian Yu gets furious. Quan Yizhen imagines them circling one another, slowly, so slowly, then their blades meet, sparking off of each other. Shixiong’s sword is coated in spiritual power, and Quan Yizhen’s little sword shines in response. He runs backwards, kicking off the wall of a nearby building, and letting all that power fly at the downstroke of his sword, then he grins, waiting to see how Shixiong responds.
Only he doesn’t, because Quan Yizhen is just imagining. But he imagined well enough that he really did discharge a huge wave of spiritual power. All of the swords have fallen off the walls, lying in an undignified heap.
All except one.
The hilt is bronze, like Shixiong’s, and the cross guard is covered in a pattern that looks like a maze. It’s pommel stone is uncut, a bright orangey yellow like the setting sun. The blade is much longer than the sword Shixiong gave him, with a deep channel for blood to flow down.
It’s a sword that demands a name. And it picked him.
The swordsmith comes running into the room at the sound of all the swords crashing down. He is upset, and Shifu is trying to make peace. The other boys stare at Quan Yizhen. He doesn’t know why they’re staring. He doesn’t care. He straps the sword on his waist next to the one Shixiong gave him.
No one ever said he can’t have two swords.
It takes them nine days to come home, because Quan Yizhen pushes them to go faster and faster. He wants to be home for his birthday. He wants to show Shixiong his sword. And Shifu seems to agree, because he insists the boys go just as fast. They all have new swords of their own, though Quan Yizhen’s is the longest. And they openly complain about the speed of their travel and how Quan Yizhen always gets what he wants. He knows that this time because he can hear them.
But none of that matters because they return in time for his birthday.
He finds Shixiong sweeping up leaves in a courtyard. His shiny hair is bound in a braid, and there are bits of leaf stuck in it from his sweeping. Quan Yizhen watches him for a while, until the leaves are swept up in a neat pile and Shixiong turns around to discover him standing there.
He jumps.
“Yizhen, welcome back. How long were you standing there?”
“A while. Shixiong, I got another sword,” he draws it, holding it out between them so Shixiong can see.
“Another? Yizhen you needn’t keep that one I gave you. You’ve outgrown it.”
“But I want to. I like that sword. Anyway, where is my birthday present?”
Shixiong barks out a laugh, “In my quarters. Did you think I would just be standing here waiting for your return?”
When Shixiong goes away, Quan Yizhen is always waiting for him to come back, but never with presents, so maybe that’s not a realistic thing to expect.
“I didn’t want to miss it,” he tells him instead.
Setting the broom in a corner and leaving the pile where it is, Shixiong leads Quan Yizhen deep into the building where the disciples sleep. Quan Yizhen sleeps here, with a roommate who is scared of him, but not scared enough to stop complaining about the mess he leaves. Shixiong has the biggest room, but not even he gets it to himself. Jian Yu takes the other half, and because of this Quan Yizhen has only ever been inside once before.
It smells like Shixiong. Quan Yizhen has no idea what the scent is, only that he likes it and it hasn’t changed in the six years he’s been part of the sect. Even though he shares the room, Jian Yu doesn’t smell the same. He’s punished Quan Yizhen enough for him to be very aware of how he smells.
Shixiong’s side of the room is full of calligraphy and Quan Yizhen is still not good enough at reading to be able to make out everything. But they seem to be poems. Quan Yizhen doesn’t understand poetry at all, but he knows it must be a beautiful thing if Shixiong likes it so much. A vase of wildflowers that grow only near the top of a nearby mountain are sitting on Shixiong’s small desk.
“This isn’t going to seem like much, after getting your sword,” Shixiong opens a drawer and pulls out a small box. “But I thought you’d definitely graduated from ribbons.”
He hands Quan Yizhen the box. It’s light, and Quan Yizhen opens it in a matter of seconds.
A golden crown hairpiece falls out in his hands. He turns it in his fingers for a long time.
“Yizhen, do you know what this means?” Shixiong asks softly.
“I like it!” Quan Yizhen stops turning it. “I just don’t know how to put it on.”
“Um,” Shixiong takes the hairpiece, “actually I’m going to put it on for you.”
Quan Yizhen sits down on the bed and reaches for his hair ribbon.
“No no, not here.”
“Then why did you bring me here, Shixiong?” Quan Yizhen cranes his head to look at him.
“Because you wanted your present right away!” Shixiong sputters. “But this isn’t an ordinary present. It’s special. We need to find Shifu.”
Shixiong grabs Quan Yizhen by the wrist and drags him through the buildings of the sect, until they reach the small bamboo house underneath the big flowering tree that Quan Yizhen has never bothered to figure out the name of. Shifu is outside tending to some plants with his back to them. He has to hear them, they’re making a lot of noise, but he finishes whatever he’s doing with his plants before he turns and smiles.
“Happy birthday, Quan Yizhen,” he says.
Shifu has never paid any attention to Quan Yizhen’s birthday. He wonders if he is also going to give him a present. Or maybe that sword was a present. But he gave all the other boys swords too.
“Normally, your crowning ceremony is large, in front of the whole sect and your uh…” Shifu coughs. “We thought something more intimate would be more fitting for you.”
Quan Yizhen has seen these coming of age ceremonies before. Sort of. They were all very boring and he usually fell asleep until Jian Yu threw something at him to wake him up. And he’s not stupid. He knows they’re doing this because everyone in the sect hates him.
But Shixiong doesn’t.
“Come inside you two,” Shifu says. Quan Yizhen follows Shizen into the house, only to discover that it has been decorated with yellow autumn flowers. Tea and dumplings are sitting on the small table in the middle of the room.
No one is there.
“On this day,” Shifu announces as though the room is full, “I present Quan Yizhen. He has served this sect well with his passionate martial spirit, carrying him far above his peers. He has been chosen by a spiritual weapon. By all rights, he has become a man.”
Shifu stops talking.
“Bow, you dummy,” Shixiong hisses as though Quan Yizhen was supposed to know what to do.
He bows, and then Shixiong pushes down on his shoulder until he’s kneeling on the floor.
Shixiong unbinds his hair like he used to when Quan Yizhen was a child. The yellow ribbon falls to the floor in a little heap. Then Shixiong takes a wide tooth comb and piles Quan Yizhen’s hair into a very high ponytail. He fastens the golden crown around it and then steps back.
“You may stand,” he tells him. He should stand to face Shifu, but he turns until he’s facing Shixiong instead.
Shixiong’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open a little. Then, he smiles.
“Congratulations, Yizhen,” he says.
On the day that he ascends, Shixiong returns to the sect covered in blood.
Quan Yizhen and Jian Yu spot him at the same time from different locations in the sect. They slam into each other at the main entrance trying to get to him. They’re both frantic; it looks like Shixiong can barely stand.
“Get out of my way, you brat!” Jian Yu screeches, but Quan Yizhen shoves him aside and runs down the road that passes the sect.
Shixiong is using Jiyue to prop himself up as he slowly makes his way down the road. Up close, Quan Yizhen can tell that at least half of the blood Shixiong is covered in is his. He stops about ten feet from Shixiong and just stares at him.
“Shixiong, did you win?” he finally asks.
“I won,” Shixiong grins fiercely.
Jian Yu catches up with them, and props Shixiong up with his body. Jiyue clatters to the ground and Quan Yizhen picks it up. It’s coated in thick dried blood, and he cleans it on his sect uniform, ignoring the brown streaks of blood it leaves behind.
Shifu meets them halfway to the sect and he props up the other side of Shixiong’s body. “You were splendid, Yin Yu,” he tells him, and Shixiong stops moving and smiles like he’s embarrassed. But why would he be embarrassed? He just defeated a jiuweihu.
“She’d feasted on twenty men in the past months,” Shixiong begins to hobble forward and Quan Yizhen wonders why he can’t just carry him on his back. “But it’s as you thought, Shifu, she has been in that cave deep in the mountains for at least ten years. Many jilted women in the surrounding villages have likely lost their lovers to her, and not infidelity.”
They keep talking as they approach the sect and the other disciples flood the streets, making everything noisy with their cheers. Shixiong deserves them, but he’s also still bleeding on the road. Quan Yizhen wants to push them all away and lead Shixiong to the infirmary where Jian Yu can bind his wounds, because that’s what Jian Yu is best at.
Eventually they find themselves there, and Quan Yizhen listens, even though Jian Yu is bossing him around. He rips old rags into bandages, runs to fetch clean water, and brings Shixiong fresh clean robes. Jian Yu gently wraps Shixiong’s wounds, and for a confusing moment, Quan Yizhen wishes that he were the one doing that, even though he isn’t any good at it.
Instead he keeps cleaning Jiyue, getting his robes so dirty they’ll never be clean again.
Shixiong ascends that night. Jian Yu sees it, a flood of light filling their bedroom and taking Shixiong with it. He rushes out into the hallway telling everyone what’s happened. The entire sect celebrates all night.
Jian Yu gets drunk and finds Quan Yizhen. He won’t stop talking to him, won’t stop telling him he should be happy for his Shixiong.
But how can he be happy when his Shixiong is gone?
The Heavens are the worst.
Quan Yizhen gets in more fights now than he did when he started at the sect. And they aren’t good fights. Well, they are good in that he always wins, but they are awful in that the losers come looking for Shixiong and try to get Quan Yizhen thrown out.
He wouldn’t mind getting thrown out. It’s only that Shixiong is here, not back on the mortal realm. If Quan Yizhen left, he’d never see Shixiong again. So he tries not to fight, and still fights a lot. Jian Yu yells at him every day. He wants to fight Jian Yu, but he never has, and probably never will.
“Yizhen, do you know what day it is?” Shixiong asks from his throne. Quan Yizhen hates that throne. They can’t talk normally. Quan Yizhen has to crane his neck and Shixiong has to look down at him. He doesn’t think that Shixiong likes the throne either, because he spends most of his time sitting at a desk in the back of the palace, writing poetry.
“No.” Quan Yizhen can’t keep track of time in the Heavens very well. Maybe he’s thirty years old now. Every day is the same.
“It’s the Mid-Autumn Festival,” Shixiong smiles. And Quan Yizhen has been keeping track of Shixiong’s smiles, and this is only the third one recently. He’s so excited about the smiling, that he almost forgets what the day means.
Then he remembers.
“My birthday!” he jumps out of his chair. Shixiong is already descending from his throne and walking to the back of the palace. Quan Yizhen follows him eagerly. They’re surrounded by splendor, gold and jade and ivory, but Quan Yizhen would throw it all in the trash if he could just be back at the sect with Shixiong again. He’d even take Jian Yu along, if that meant they could escape.
But the only way to escape is to ascend himself. Then the middle heavenly officials will leave him alone. Then he can sit on a throne himself, and he won’t have to crane his neck to talk to Shixiong. He’s happy worshipping Shixiong, but he doesn’t want it to be from a distance, and as a heavenly official, that’s all he can do.
Shixiong’s the one who told him to ascend, anyway.
Quan Yizhen has never been in Shixiong’s bedroom before, but that’s where Shixiong leads him. The bed is enormous, covered in a gilded bedspread. There are jade decorations all over the walls. It looks nothing like Shixiong’s simple room at the sect, and he wonders if Shixiong even likes it. Who picked what this palace would look like, anyway?
Shixiong opens a large cabinet and pulls out a tiny box. It’s so small, Quan Yizhen has no idea what it could possibly be.
“Sit down on the bed, Yizhen,” Shixiong smiles for the fourth time. Quan Yizhen sits, and as he does, he feels overwhelmed, like Shixiong’s bed is a special place and maybe he doesn’t belong here. The thought is annoying, so he brushes it away just in time for Shixiong to hand him the box.
“I know you’ve been feeling out of place in the Heavens. I have too. But I thought maybe we could do something to make you blend in a little.”
Quan Yizhen opens the box to reveal two long golden tassels.
“Shixiong, what are these?” He picks one up. It’s connected to a thin metal hook.
“Earrings,” Shixiong sits down on the bed next to him. All of the breath leaves Quan Yizhen’s body and he doesn’t know why. But he wants to be closer to Shixiong. He wants to brush the strand of hair that’s come loose from his braid behind his ear. He’s never wanted to do those things before. His entire body feels like it’s on fire.
Shixiong is holding a long pin. He adjusts his hold on it, and then it’s covered in spiritual energy. “Can I pierce your ears, Yizhen? It’ll hurt a little.”
Quan Yizhen would tell him yes if he’d asked to pierce his stomach.
“Yes,” he says.
Leaning close, Shixiong takes Quan Yizhen’s face in his hands to hold him still. He smells the same way he smelled back at the sect. Quan Yizhen isn’t sure if he can breathe anymore.
The pain is almost nothing, especially when compared to this big buzzing growing thing that’s exploding in Quan Yizhen’s chest. Shixiong pierces his other ear, then laces the tassels through the holes.
“Keep them clean,” Shixiong smiles for the fifth time.
Quan Yizhen wants to kiss him.
“When is Shixiong’s birthday?” Quan Yizhen asks Jian Yu.
Jian Yu sneers at him. They’re making a delivery to another god’s palace. Quan Yizhen doesn’t know what it is, but it is the only time he can talk to Jian Yu when Shixiong isn’t around.
“Are you telling me you don’t know? He has bought you a present every year for the past nine years, and you are such a brat that you don’t even know when his birthday is?”
Once, Quan Yizhen promised that he wouldn’t attack Jian Yu. He has kept that promise for nearly a decade. He’s not about to break it now, no matter how much Jian Yu’s face is begging to get punched.
“No,” Quan Yizhen says. “I don’t know. But I want to get him a present.”
“He’s a god!” Jian Yu nearly drops the box they’re carrying because he wants to wave his arms around. “What could you possibly get him that he doesn’t already have?”
“I—”
“If you want to give him something, how about the gift of not causing so much damn trouble? You haven’t gone a week without getting in a fight since we got here!”
Jian Yu doesn’t understand why he gets in fights. No one pays any attention to Jian Yu. They leave him alone, so he doesn’t have to stand up for himself, or for Shixiong. Quan Yizhen wants to hurl him back to the mortal realm but that’s not the way he’s going to get any answers.
He has never improved his negotiation skills.
“Shixiong doesn’t like it here.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you honestly think some crummy gift from you is going to make it better?”
“I want to try,” Quan Yizhen takes a deep breath and does what he swore he’d never do, “Jian Yu Shixiong.”
“If you think showing me the proper respect after far too long is going to change my mind, you’re more of an idiot than I thought you we—”
“Please,” Quan Yizhen lowers the box to the ground, then kneels and leans forward.
“Are you… begging me?” Jian Yu doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself.
Quan Yizhen clenches his fists as hard as he possibly can. He has never wanted to fight someone more in his life.
“Yes.”
“N-November 22nd,” Jian Yu sputters. “Now get your ass up here and carry this box. We have a job to do.”
People aren’t supposed to see him, but Quan Yizhen doesn’t think everyone follows that rule. The General who’s name he keeps forgetting comes down to earth all the time to seduce women. No one stops him from becoming visible. All Quan Yizhen wants to do is to buy a charm. It can’t be from the village near the sect, because everyone will recognize him. But he choses a place in the same country, a town he’d visited with Shifu on his way to get Gengshang, his sword.
He hates descending. He always falls and bruises himself up. It’s not a satisfying hurt, like one from a fight. It’s a dumb one, one he wishes wouldn’t happen. But he lands in a spiny bush, and comes into town looking like he lost a fight with the forest. Girls make smiley faces at him as he walks through the town and he ignores them because he is not like the general. He doesn’t want to seduce anyone. He just wants Shixiong to touch his face again, like he did when he was piercing his ears.
Jian Yu will probably make fun of him for buying a charm like this when he could get one made out of gold and jade and precious gems. But when Shixiong bought Quan Yizhen a charm like this, he was happy. Maybe if he sees one he’ll be happy again.
The girls follow him through the town, and he finally realizes it’s because of his golden earrings. He looks rich, and he’s not sure, maybe he is, but everything he has is also Shixiong’s so really it’s Shixiong they should be after.
The thought of girls being after Shixiong makes him clench his fists.
He buys the charm with gold foil. The bewildered shopkeeper tries to give him a lot of change, but Quan Yizhen tells him to keep it and asks for a nice box. The shopkeeper gives him a beautifully carved wooden box that is maybe worth more than the charm itself. He gives him a piece of silk too, and gently places the charm on top of it.
Returning to the Heavens is difficult because the girls follow him outside of town. Some of them have gotten brave enough to ask him his name, and he ignores them because he’s still mad about them being after Shixiong. Finally he evades them, finds a quiet clearing, kicks away from the moral realm, and rockets up towards the Heavens.
The twenty second day of November arrives, bright and sunny, like it is a very special day. But it’s not. Every day in the Heavens is bright and sunny. Quan Yizhen has never liked the rain, it is difficult to train in it and it makes him cold. But he misses it now.
He can’t get to Shixiong the entire morning, because he spends it answering prayers. Shixiong is very kind to his worshippers, and he probably helps them a lot. But lately it’s been making Quan Yizhen jealous, all of these strangers getting Shixiong’s attention. Some gods, like the Wind Master, get so many prayers they have their heavenly officials help answer them. Shixiong has never asked Quan Yizhen to help, which is probably good because he’d likely tell them to get lost.
Jian Yu brings out a fancy lunch, which would be special if it weren’t the same kind of fancy they have every day. He doesn’t tell Shixiong “Happy birthday,” maybe because he’s hoping Quan Yizhen forgot.
But Quan Yizhen hasn’t forgotten. Whenever Shixiong gave him his birthday presents, he always took him somewhere quiet and alone. Quan Yizhen refuses to ruin Shixiong’s birthday by giving him his present in front of anyone else.
Shixiong is quiet as he eats. Quan Yizhen wonders if it’s because he’s getting more prayers, but he doesn’t think so. He seems even sadder than usual, and Quan Yizhen is desperate for the meal to be over so he can give him his present. That happens unexpectedly, when Shixiong stands from the table and tells them he’s going back to his room. Jian Yu accepts this information, and says they’ll clean up, but Quan Yizhen stands to follow Shixiong as soon as he’s left the main hall.
“You brat, don’t leave me with all this work!” Jian Yu yells at him down the corridor.
Quan Yizhen ignores him.
Shixiong’s door is shut but Quan Yizhen knocks confidently. Shixiong will want to see him. He always does.
“Yizhen?” Shixiong opens the door a crack. He looks rumpled.
“Can I come in?” Quan Yizhen asks.
Shixiong pauses for a moment. Then he sighs. “How can I help you Yizhen?”
Quan Yizhen shuts the door behind him. He’s nearly dancing on his toes with excitement.
“Today’s your birthday.”
Shixiong blinks, “How do you know that?”
“I asked Jian Yu.”
“And Jian Yu told you?”
Quan Yizhen doesn’t want to explain how he asked, so he pulls the carved box out of his robes and holds it out for Shixiong.
“I got you a birthday present.”
Shixiong takes the present and sits down on the bed, heavily. He moves his fingers across the carved wood almost like he’s making sure it’s really there.
“Sit with me, Yizhen,” he says softly.
Quan Yizhen has desperately wanted to sit next to Shixiong on the bed, but once he’s there, the buzzing in his chest is back so strongly he wonders if it would be better to stand.
“This isn’t from the Heavens,” Shixiong says.
“You don’t like the Heavens, Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen tells him. He can smell Shixiong, his scent is everywhere. Quan Yizhen wants to bury his face in Shixiong’s neck and take a deep breath. But he can barely even touch him, just sits there, helpless, on the bed.
Shixiong laughs. And this is the second laugh in weeks. But it’s not his normal laugh. It’s… not right.
He opens the box.
Quan Yizhen has never given anyone a present before. He’s never felt the vulnerable feeling, like he’s forgotten his sword and if he wants to, if he doesn’t like it, Shixiong could rip out his heart.
The room is quiet, because Shixiong doesn’t say anything for a long time. Quan Yizhen stares at the floor because he’s not sure what else to do.
Then, there’s a hand on his cheek, guiding his face so that he and Shixiong are looking at each other.
“It’s for luck,” Shixiong says, and his thumb moves across Quan Yizhen’s cheek.
“And protection, Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen says.
They’re looking at each other. Shixiong isn’t smiling, but he still looks happy. The buzzing in Quan Yizhen’s chest is so intense he’s going to explode.
And then.
“Yin Yu!” Jian Yu knocks at the door. “There’s an urgent request from the Heavenly Emperor!”
Shixiong’s hand drops like he was holding something hot. He closes the box around the charm.
“Thank you, Yizhen,” he says, standing up and gathering his sword.
He leaves without looking back.
A few months short of his twentieth birthday, Quan Yizhen ascends.
Nothing is ever the same again.