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How cruel... If I could, I would tear the Fates asunder for giving you another beginning like this...
The words enter Gu Xiang's ears through the flutter of the torn paper that covers the windows. She had traced the red ink of the characters on the talismans when she had found the house, unable to read them but filled with a sense of warmth all the same. They would keep evil out, she knew, and so even when the beams of the manor creaked and the voice cooled her eardrums, she wasn't afraid. Evil was outside, in the callousness of strangers and the greed of wild dogs. If something was in here, where no one could look at a young orphan with disgusted, hate-filled eyes or steal the food that she had worked so hard to scavenge, then she would welcome it. Perhaps it was like her, after all. The house shook as Gu Xiang clenched her fists, the dirty crescents of her nails biting into her palms, and she felt its anger as if she was nestled inside the ribcage of a beast. The talismans; the voice; the manor's rage: all of these things conspired to keep her safe.
Be still, Lao Wen. She is with you now.
She sleeps soundly for the first time in weeks, with no fear that she would be chased from her makeshift bed. When she hears the second speaker, it's in her dreams. Though she doesn't know who Lao Wen is, she exhales deeply with the walls of the manor, feeling the tapering of its tremors and relaxing into unconsciousness. At dawn she feels a coolness on her forehead - the imprint of light, thin fingers that send a spark of familiarity through her, quickening her heart rate and urging her into wakefulness. She reaches out, eager to catch the wrist of the memory, but there is nothing there when she opens her eyes, and her hand falls through empty air.
"Wait," she says, unsure whether she is demanding or pleading. There is no answer, but when she sits up and rubs her tired eyes, the weight of her hair bumps against her clavicle. She picks up the fresh braid, holding the purple ribbon that binds it between her finger and thumb, and hiccups once. Her hair is dry, and yet cleaner than she ever remembers it being, and the fragrance of jasmine is sharp in her nose. Fat tears well in her eyes, and she cries until her throat is sore and her face is hot with the exertion.
"Thank you," she says between gulping breaths. She doesn't remember the last time that she said that; doesn't remember the last time she would have had cause to. "Can I stay?"
The manor stays quiet. In lieu of a response, Gu Xiang hears the trickle of water, and stumbles over the rough floorboards until she reaches the back of the house. In the courtyard, a small spring blooms fresh by an overgrown vegetable plot. The leaves are dark and abundant, and Gu Xiang doesn't recognise any of them, but she knows that they're food.
"Thank you," she says again, and she sits in the midst of the garden, eating until her stomach aches and she can do nothing but fall asleep amongst the roots and the insects.
You're supposed to wash them, silly girl... she hears, and smiles with her eyes closed. The voice is warmer than sunlight, enough for her to bask in, and the man who responds to it is filled with as much love as she feels from the house that has rescued her.
Relax, Lao Wen. We won't let her get sick, or lose her again.
Where is her fool of a soulmate? He promised to look after her, but she's here.
He'll find her. For now, a fool of a brother will have to take care of her until he can.
Wind rustles through the trees, passing over Gu Xiang like a caress, and behind her eyelids she sees blurred white teeth and a cupid's bow stretched into a reassuring, dangerous smile.
**
The manor does not speak to Gu Xiang as often as she would like, but it continues to look after her. Every morning she wakes up with her hair and clothes freshly cleaned, even if she has spent the entire day outside. She delights in filling a bowl of water to check her reflection, patting the thick braids that wrap over the top of her head to see what style they have been placed in today.
The dogs that used to chase her now leave tribute at her doorstep. The first time they brought a chicken to her she ran at them, teeth bared and arms flapping in fear that they would change their mind and eat her for dinner instead. Perhaps they were fattening her up. But they never came beyond the steps, keeping their heads up and looking at her with eyes that she now sees are a deep brown, not red as she had remembered, and after a few days Gu Xiang begins to take their offerings with confidence, even going so far as to pat one of them on the head. It whines, recoiling, and then pushes up into her hand when it realises that her touch is gentle, not meant to hurt.
"You're hungry too," she tells the dog, bolstered by the largeness of the manor she feels propping up her back. "Well, I'm more important, but I don't need the heads, so maybe you can have what's left."
When the dogs bring a young boy to her doorstep, snivelling and clumsy on a broken ankle, she is less impressed.
"This house doesn't like strangers," she tells the boy, eyeing him warily. She has not felt hunger since she arrived, but the memory of an empty stomach never fades, and the thought of sharing her resources prickles. "If you try to stay it will chase you out."
The boy cowers in response, looking up at the manor in wonder. He touches the paper talismans and they glow hot until he retracts his fingers with a flinch.
Lao Wen! No - it's -
Wind rushes between Gu Xiang and the boy, and she watches him with her arms folded. The second voice of the house sparks her curiosity, though, and after a moment she takes a step forward, satisfied when he responds by stepping back.
"What's your name?" she asks, fingers tightly clutching the purple ribbon on her braid. The boy stammers, leaning his weight on his broken ankle and then falling inelegantly.
"Zhang - Zhang Chengling," he tells her, and the surge of warmth she feels from the manor in response is all she needs. Narrowing her eyes she stands over him, making him wait until his eyes are as round as saucers before offering her hand to him.
"Come on, then," she says, jerking her head towards the door.
"You said the house doesn't like strangers," he says even as he takes her hand. He follows slowly, half because he is limping, and half because he is afraid. Gu Xiang reminds herself that not everyone can be as intuitive as she is, and tells herself to be patient.
"It doesn't," she agrees. "But I think you're as much of a stranger as I am. Welcome home, Chengling. You'll be safe here."