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Yin Yu scanned with growing concern the rows of disciples performing their drills, only noting their varying levels of confidence and proficiency out of habit. “…Where’s Quan Yizhen?” he wondered aloud.
“Who cares?” Jian Yu answered, voice sharp with contempt.
Already despairing of getting Jian Yu on Quan Yizhen’s side, Yin Yu simply sighed. “It’s not like him to miss morning practice,” he said.
“Well he’s doing us all a favor by missing it,” Jian Yu muttered in reply. “Maybe it’ll go smoothly again for a change.”
“Don’t be like that,” Yin Yu chided, keeping his voice soft, “he doesn’t cause trouble at practice.” It was one of the few things that could keep their excitable new shidi’s attention for any amount of time.
Jian Yu’s attitude took on a sarcastic kind of brightness. “But we won’t have to look at him for a few hours. That improves things.”
“I’m going to look for him.”
Jian Yu rolled his eyes. “Sure, you do that. Can’t say I hope you find him.”
Yin Yu walked off with a mild, scolding look for his friend.
~
The sect’s gardens were quiet and secluded. They contained many mature trees, broad and tall, with thickly-leafed branches ideal for hiding in.
Yin Yu stopped at the foot of one particularly tall specimen. “Yizhen?” he called. “What are you doing up there?”
The skinny figure high up in the branches visibly startled. “Nothing!” he shouted, then quickly tucked his hands behind his back. “…Nothing, Shixiong!” he corrected himself, peering down.
“You’re missing morning practice. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine!” A pause. “Am I in trouble?”
“That depends. What are you doing?” Not getting a response, and seeing the guilty, evasive expression even from a distance, Yin Yu decided to climb up and join his shidi. “What’s behind your back?” he asked gently as he settled against the tree’s trunk.
Without a word, eyes averted, Quan Yizhen held out a martial arts manual. Yin Yu immediately recognized it as the one he had given him just a few days before, after another reading lesson that had felt both frustrating and unproductive. He had known, when he set out to teach Quan Yizhen, that all of his patience would be required for this task, especially since the very first lesson had involved chasing him down and dragging him back to their makeshift classroom. Their progress was slow, as they both tested one another’s limits, but Yin Yu hoped that the offering of one of his own beginner manuals would better hold Quan Yizhen’s attention than the more traditional primers. Judging by how he’d found him that morning, it seemed to be doing the trick.
“You were reading?” Yin Yu asked in surprise. “Instead of going to practice?”
Quan Yizhen nodded. “Am I in trouble?” he repeated, looking a little stubborn, ready for a fight if necessary.
Yin Yu put on a thoughtful expression. “Well, if you were skipping practice to fool around then you’d be in trouble. But this looks more like independent study to me, so…” He offered Quan Yizhen a small smile. “No, you’re not in trouble.”
Brightening immediately, he opened the book and pointed to a character beside one of the large illustrations. “Shixiong, does this word mean ‘fight?’ It’s in here a lot.”
He really was giving the book his attention, Yin Yu realized, impressed and a little proud. “No, that means ‘hold,’” he replied, then seeing Quan Yizhen’s disappointment quickly added, “but the words are similar.” He thought for a moment. “Come down, let me show you.” He easily leapt from the branch to the ground and looked up to see his shidi’s reluctance. “Just down here,” he assured him. “I won’t make you go to the classroom.”
Yin Yu’s heart flew to his throat when he saw Quan Yizhen throw himself from the branch the same way his shixiong had done, but he landed safely, quick as always to pick up any skill he observed. He looked up at Yin Yu, clearly anticipating praise.
“Good job,” he said, tilting a smile at him. Then he crouched down to write two words in the loose, dry soil at the foot of the tree. Quan Yizhen immediately joined him to watch. “See, this first part, the radical, is the same in both words,” he explained. “You were on the right track.” As he helped Quan Yizhen to trace the words with his finger in the correct stroke order, he reflected that they probably should have started with this sort of vocabulary in the first place. “Yizhen, you’re doing well.”
Quan Yizhen responded with a shy smile, focusing on a shaky attempt to copy the words. “…How do you write ‘shixiong?’” he asked when he had finished.
Trying to suppress a pleased grin, Yin Yu showed him.
Quan Yizhen looked at the characters carefully for a moment, then turned back to Yin Yu. “So that’s your name?”
Yin Yu smiled. “No, that means anyone who’s your shixiong.” His smile grew wider, a bit more pointed. “There are several here, you know.”
Quan Yizhen threw him a doubtful look.
Laughing, Yin Yu brushed the characters away. “Here, this is my name.”
“…That’s it?”
The laugh was startled out of him. “That’s it,” he confirmed, mock-offended.
Quan Yizhen smiled. “I like it,” he said, tracing the lines with a finger.
“Because it’s easy?”
He looked away with a noncommittal shrug, then began to write his own name, slowly and carefully, under Yin Yu’s. When he was done he drew a circle around both.
Taken aback by the simple gesture, Yin Yu could only respond, “Looks like you’ve been practicing.” Trying to keep his tone light and casual, trying not to think about the fights Quan Yizhen had already had with the other disciples who mocked him for being illiterate, he went on, “As a reward, we could do our morning drills right here if you’d like. A personal session, just you and me.”
He could see the conflict in Quan Yizhen’s heart written on his face. “…Could you show me how to write a few more words first?” he asked.
“Of course,” Yin Yu replied, thinking again of that initial reluctance with a swelling pride. “I’d be happy to.” He smoothed a new patch of soil for their lesson, making sure to save the circle containing their names to preside over their progress.