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The silence in the peak of the mountains was unfathomable. She could hear her breathing, the slow and gentle beating of her heart. The slow-flowing of each drop as the morning sun rose in the sky, guiding them back into the earth, into the stream, into the air where the cycle would repeat once more.
She could hear the words that pended over her head as her lips had been too afraid to speak them. Unspoken by the weight of her own fears, her own doubts.
And the silence was noisy, filled with all the things she didn't say, with all the dreams she harbored after a warm smile, a single word.
A beautiful yet short night.
Shenhe breathed and the cold mountain air was but a breeze in her skin, a loving caress nature itself would grant her every day. Shenhe breathed and, for the first time since red strings had restricted her wrath and her anger, her skin flourished with emotions.
Cranes danced on the shore of a river, their steps hidden by the gentle tides. Dressed by water foam and pristine white and black feathers, cranes danced on the shore of a river and no one could tell if they were to be bound together or split apart.
Shenhe looked at them as she grew far away, secluded in those mountains that the adepti called home. Shenhe looked at them as they danced in a river so high in the peaks its existence defied the natural order of the archons.
They danced, then split apart.
Then returned once more, for nobody was to say if the cranes were dancing or fighting, or simply enjoying the life no one could take from them.
Shenhe looked at them, feeling away and close, defying nature by the grace of the adepti, defying the gods by the intensity of her wrath. She was like those cranes, dancing on the shore of a river where no one could see her steps and tell if she was to stay or drift away.
Shenhe, like a crane, learned to fly and dance in the mountains the adepti called home and, with red strings adorning every aspect of her life, she learned to stay away, yet remain close. In an in-between no one could tell apart. Like a crane, she was to remain away, but close enough for the river to be gentle when it reached her steps and her path.
Until that night.
The light was golden like the archon that had fathered the land she stepped on. It was golden and warm and her hands relished it as the sun slowly made its way into the sky. Shenhe looked at them, human fingers with the potential to destroy, to tear apart.
The potential to hold gently and close, to keep people safe and enemies afar.
Yet…
She smiled to herself, a mock of a smile, bitter and broken and forlorn.
Even in the high peaks of the deepest mountains in Liyue the sun could be warm and welcoming, but by the will of the gods —or against it, she had been given a deadly gift. A blade that was her own soul, a sharp edge that wouldn’t distinguish friend from foe.
The long reach of a polearm.
The mortal wound of her boundless strength.
Her hands, seemingly gentle and caring, rested with her palms up, bathed by golden light. They were deceivingly soft for what she knew they could cause. She wondered —not for the first time, if she was truly human as her master and the other adepti had said. A foolish thought, as adepti were not the kind to lie.
A wishful thought, the unreasonable and enticing explanation of a greater power mangling with her fate and her nature at core. Something that would move the focus from her inner nature into a heavenly will she was unable to bend.
She was human, however.
She was human and her wrath was as well. And she had been at peace with it until that night, until the moment she savored what a human life could also be, what feelings could ignite in her heart.
But…
Sometimes.
Sometimes, when she was in the deep of Jueyun Karst, she could forget the human claims of her body. Consuming bitter flowers that quenched her curiosity, drinking from a cold river that quieted her seldom wandering heart. Shenhe could close her eyes, deep in meditation that superseded sleep, and feel as her body wasn’t her own. Breathing in the morning wind, going over every lesson she’d learned from the adepti, breathing out warm air that flowed from her like liquid and smoke, forfeiting the sense of self. There she was no human, she was no adeptus, she was and yet she wasn’t.
Her heart, slow and steady, followed a pattern that kept her mind tranquil like a soothing rain.
Ties cut, body forgotten, she had thought she had left behind those mortal concerns.
But she hadn’t, and an opera late at night had been enough to show Shenhe her heart was human and her chest filled with emotions she couldn’t understand. They had blossomed listening to music that had moved her to the core, like glaze lilies opening up at the light of the moon, soft and ethereal, enough to pierce the heavy mantle of darkness, and yet not enough to illuminate Shenhe into what they meant.
The sunlight now bathed her completely, as the morning progressed and her mind wandered to distant lands, to Liyue Harbor and the most famous Opera singer in the capital.
Yun Jin barely knew her, they had met a couple of times only before that night, and yet she had been able to write and perform a piece that had awakened something in her. With her eyes painted in shades of red and her delicate clothes picked precisely for the occasion. A gentle and yet powerful river of colors and music had emanated from Yun Jin and Shenhe hadn’t been immune to it.
She had heard the tales of Yun Jin on her way back to Cloud Retainer’s abode. The praises that followed the Opera singer whenever she went, the compliments that echoed long after she had passed through. Shenhe had listened, taking in every word and unraveling every detail. Comparisons that made her head spin and her heart stagger. They left her breathless and confused as her own body revealed against her.
Words that she had married to the image of Yun Jin in her mind, to the sound of her voice still fresh in her ears, to the warm smile that had ignited a wildfire not even red strings could control.
Shenhe stood up, the morning almost gone, the river before her flowing and the cranes still locked in their own dance, their own battle, their own dreams.
Someone was coming, she could hear them struggling up the mountains, following a path that was visible only for those who knew how to look for the right clues. Her hands itched to call forward her polearm, but she refrained, concentrating.
More steps and a sweet, high-pitched voice echoed through the distance and past her, reverberating in the rocky face of the mountains around them.
So the traveler was back to visit her. That was good, wasn’t it? This was a step closer to integrating with humanity once more. Cloud Retainer would be delighted to see the now-familiar sight of Lumine and Paimon making their way through trails that were not made for the faint of heart.
But Lumine was an odd human as well, wasn’t she? Surrounded by friends and comrades that loved her, yet still looking for the piece of her family that would make her whole again.
A traveler from outside the world who could call forward the power that only the gods were supposed to handle. Maybe that was the reason why Shenhe liked her company.
“Shenhe! Hello!” Paimon hurried to her as they appeared in the clearing she had been meditating, waving her little arms in the air. Her happiness was contagious and Shenhe found herself smiling. “Oh boy, you live so far away!” Lumine, behind her, smiled and dismissed Paimon’s worries with a wave of her hand.
“It isn’t far when it comes about visiting a friend, doesn’t it, Paimon?” Lumine asked, a somewhat smug expression on her face.
Shenhe knew that they were friends, that their company was as natural and vital to each other as breathing.
She found herself craving for such a connection.
“I — I guess not…” Paimon conceded, rolling her eyes at her expression.
“I’m glad to see you both, your return is earlier than expected… perhaps you need to discuss with Cloud Retainer? My master isn’t around right now but… ” Shenhe took a step backward, ready to go find her master and help these new friends she’d made.
That was what friends did, as she had learned.
“No, no, no! We just came by to say hello!” Paimon crossed her arms in front of her, shaking her head with vigor. She was so full of life and energy for such a small being, Shenhe pondered as she faced her, turning her head. Paimon waited for a second and then smiled, apologetic, “and to fetch some medicinal flowers too…”
“There are plenty of them, let me show you the best spots for picking some up.” She felt relief as her mind changed the subject at hand, concentrating on a task that was both easy and practical.
Shenhe would think about those emotions at another time, when the tremor of her heart wouldn’t interfere with her train of thoughts.
“We ran into Yun Jin earlier this week,” Lumine said, matter-of-factly, her hands resting lightly in her hips.
“Oh, you did?”
“She said you should visit, she would like you to attend more of her performances.”
Lighting ran through her chest.
“I see.”
What else was she supposed to say?
“You haven’t had the chance to enjoy many of those,” Lumine smiled as if she knew what Shenhe’s heart harbored. Maybe she did, maybe she was an odd human with a sense of others so honed she could tell by looking into her eyes, “I think you should go, maybe come with us after we finish our task at hand today?”
Shenhe looked up, past Paimon and Lumine, into the river where the cranes had stopped, looking at them and their conversation. She locked eyes with them for just a moment before they unfolded their wings and took to the sky, delicate flight of white and black that was unmistakable in the stark blue sky.
Even cranes would leave the river and take to the sky to continue their journey, away from prying eyes.
Shenhe smiled, her attention back in Lumine, her golden eyes filled with recognition and understanding, “Yes. I’d like that. Now, about the flowers.”
Rain was soothing and steady, gray skies that made it impossible to tell the time as the day dragged along without any visible changes. Yun Jin looked through her window and the book in her hands remained unattended.
She was supposed to be studying, submerging herself deep into the stories that would eventually be sprung into operas. Learning not only what had happened, but how the tides of time had changed by it, how the waves had been disturbed and then all the actors and players had been rearranged.
She was supposed to understand not only what had happened, but why and how it had felt, so she could perform it on the stage, delivering not only music and meaning but emotions.
Yun Jin, brought up behind the stage of a theater, listening to her father's stories every night, watching performers excel at their arts every day, had learned from a very young age that what moved people were the emotions she could evoke. Emotions would bridge languages and frontiers, they would close the gap of those who had drifted away and open the doors of those who had hidden behind them.
She knew that her art was to evoke and the key was in the little details everybody looked for unconsciously. Emotions were powerful and answered to no one, but they could be called forward with a word, a music note, a single gesture.
In contrast, everybody answered to them, no matter their age, their background, their nature.
Not even the gods were free of them.
And, as a human and a performer, Yun Jin found herself swamped by feelings as well. Looking through her window, longing for something she didn’t have and couldn’t name. She looked through the raindrops as they fell and imagined a simple afternoon alongside her new friend, the strange woman from the mountains with a stoic face and sharp words.
The divine damsel of devastation.
Yun Jin closed the book and left it on the desk next to the window.
There were emotions she couldn’t name, but she tried to understand. She had a steady, meticulous approach to her own emotions, looking at them from different lenses, exploring them through every angle she had learned, every art outside of tradition she had dipped into, giving her diversity and open-mindedness.
The answer, in silence, waited for her on that rainy evening.
She looked through the window and, instead, saw the distinct figures of Lumine and Paimon hurrying under the rain, running from portico to portico. By looking at how their hands moved she could guess they were bickering, as usual.
Behind them, making her heart skip a beat, Shenhe followed unfazed by the rain, leaving frost and small, short-lived snowflakes where her steps had been.
A smile had adorned her face without her permission or realization.
It didn’t matter, they were headed her way and she would soon have guests.
The answer, in silence, waited for her on that rainy evening.