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Everyone on Sisheng Peak knew the story of how Madam Wang had once asked the young Xue Meng to get change for a silver leaf from a roadside peddler. The child had come back with only a kite and three greasy copper coins– in other words, he’d been painfully ripped off. But Xue Meng thought the little kite was very pretty and was highly pleased with his transaction.
volume 6, chapter 206
“Now! Do it now!” Xue Meng shouts when the light breeze falters. He twists the reel of twine in his hands and starts running faster, trying to keep the ratty kite in the air. Behind him, Mo Ran and Shi Mei sprint, each taking turns attempting the gusting technique the trio begged Chu Wanning to teach them this morning when Xue Meng showed up with a kite. Shi Mei has longer legs and is faster than Mo Ran, but his technique is weaker. It only casts a waft of warm air towards the kite while Mo Ran sends up strong, sharp gusts of wind from behind. Between the two of them, it’s enough to lift the mangled kite high into the air.
Feeling the tug of ascension, Xue Meng slows his frantic run to admire his purchase drifting through the clouds. Mo Ran and Shi Mei catch up, both out of breath and concentrating hard to keep the kite up until a sudden burst of wind passes through the clearing. It catches the kite and drags it into the highest branches of a magnolia tree. All three children whine in disappointment, staring up at it before Mo Ran kicks off his shoes. He climbs up with his cousin following closely behind in a race to the top, leaving Shi Mei on the ground calling for them to be careful.
Chu Wanning watches them from across the clearing. He can’t help but feel a bubble of satisfaction in how quickly they all learned the gusting technique, even if they’re using it for frivolous play.
Mo Ran is new to the sect and has only just found his footing in the past few months. He and Chu Wanning spent the cold winter cooped up together, working hard on his studies. Chu Wanning brims with silent pride at how quickly Mo Ran’s natural curiosity lets him learn even if he doesn’t realize his strengths. In a matter of weeks, he’ll likely surpass Shi Mei. Despite that, this morning Shi Mei was the first to pick up on the nuances of the gusting technique and control a steady breeze even if it doesn’t hold the innate raw power of Xue Meng and Mo Ran’s attempts. It took barely an incense’s time of teaching before all three boys were satisfied enough to gleefully run off to play.
“How did they get the kite again? Did you give it to them?” Xue Zhengyong asks Chu Wanning, sitting down at the table with him and Madam Wang. His wife pours a cup of tea and sets it in front of him. He tilts his head up for a kiss as she withdraws, shooting her big, pleading eyes that earn him a peck.
“I gave Meng-er a silver leaf to go exchange in Wuchang Town this morning,” Madam Wang says, watching the boys in the tree already distracted by the cascade of heavy petals they can rain down on Shi Mei if they bounce on the ancient limbs. “And he brought back that kite and three coins for me instead.”
Xue Zhengyong laughs. “My boy knows a good bargain.”
“He was scammed,” Chu Wanning decides, accepting his tea. He closes his eyes and appreciates the sun soaking into his back. As much as he admires the beauty of the snow, he enjoys when it melts. This time of year, the peak of Spring, is one of his favorite times. He feels one with blossoming trees waking from dormancy to unfurl delicate petals in bloom. Soon he will go into seclusion and spend his days meditating under the safety of the warm sun and rejuvenating Spring rains.
“Look how much fun they’re having.” Xue Zhengyong gestures towards the boys playing in the tree. Xue Meng is shrieking for no reason while Mo Ran, still the lightest of them all, has climbed into the highest, narrowest branches and is precariously leaning out as far as he can to wrap his fingertips around the edge of the kite’s ribbon. “That’s worth a silver leaf if you ask me. Meng-er isn’t a shrewd businessman yet, but he’s got wisdom beyond his years just like his old man.”
Chu Wanning and Wang Chuqing exchange a look at Xue Zhengyong’s pride in his boy and himself.
“How’s Ran-er’s core formation progressing?” Xue Zhengyong asks when neither continues the praise. “Xuanji Elder said you were busy yesterday and asked him to include Ran-er in sword riding lessons. He reported that Ran-er was quite impressive.” He reaches across the table for one of the bowls, stealing candies from the dish. He eats one and passes the other to Chu Wanning, who slips it into his sleeve for later. Before Xue Zhengyong can declare how impressive Mo Ran was, there’s a loud crack and thud, a pained gasp, and a twinned cry of “Mo Ran!”
Chu Wanning, Xue Zhengyong, and Madam Wang all spin around in time to see Mo Ran on the ground face down on top of a broken branch, Shi Mei by his side already and Xue Meng scrambling from the tree screaming. Xue Zhengyong shoots to his feet, but Chu Wanning holds out a hand to stop him.
“He’s fine. Wait and see.”
Chu Wanning anxiously watches, hoping that Mo Ran is indeed fine and just needs to catch his breath. Xue Zhengyong hovers half out of his seat. Madam Wang watches with a sharp eye. Chu Wanning knows Mo Ran is tough, but he’s still trying to figure out just how tough.
Sure enough, the boy sits up with a groan and rubs his head before looking up at the magnolia branches, asking, “Did I get it down?”
Xue Meng bursts out yelling at Mo Ran for scaring him while Shi Mei almost laughs. Mo Ran crawls to his feet and begins climbing right back into the tree to get the kite. Once retrieved, the boys resume playing. This time Mo Ran holds the twine while the other two battle the swells and lulls of the breeze to keep it afloat. Mo Ran is worse at keeping the kite aloft than Xue Meng, but unlike his cousin who yelled every time it crashed to the ground, Mo Ran runs to gather it like a puppy excited to play. He brushes the kite off each time and offers it back to Xue Meng and Shi Mei, who each assure him it’s still his turn.
“Boys,” Madam Wang calls after another half hour when the dishes for their meal are delivered. “It’s time to eat.”
All three abandon the battered kite already falling to pieces. They race to the table as fast as they can. Xue Meng wins as he ricochets himself off rocks and trees, showing off the qinggong he’s mastered long ago, of which Mo Ran and Shi Mei are still learning the foundations. He plops himself down at the table next to his mom and lifts the lid on a dish, allowing tendrils of steam to rise high into the air. He immediately darts out a hand to grab a piece of beef and sticks it into his mouth before anyone can stop him.
Shi Mei arrives next, taking his seat next to Xue Zhengong. As he sits, he politely says, “Thank you for organizing this meal for us, Xue-zunzhu.” Xue Zhengyong waves him off with a long-winded answer about how these Spring days are too precious to waste inside and should be spent in the sun sharing good food and good company.
Mo Ran arrives at the table last, having gotten distracted. He climbs into his chair next to Chu Wanning.
“Here, Shizun,” he says, placing a big magnolia flower on the table. Chu Wanning picks it up between his fingers and examines it, the corners of his lips quirking upwards before he tucks it into his sleeve to save. When he turns to thank Mo Ran, a splotch of dirt on the side of the child’s face from when he fell distracts Chu Wanning.
“Here,” Chu Wanning says, drawing a plain handkerchief from a pocket for Mo Ran to wipe away the dirt. Mo Ran misunderstands him. He holds perfectly still until Chu Wanning simply reaches out to wipe the dirt from his cheek. Mo Ran’s cheek is squished around and reddened by Chu Wanning’s scrubbing.
“This can’t possibly hurt?” he asks when Mo Ran makes a high squeak.
“No, Shizun.” Mo Ran stares up at him with big, round eyes. He doesn’t look like it hurts, but Chu Wanning still can’t decipher his expression.
“Is Mo Ran hurt?” Xue Meng suddenly calls from across the table where he’s lifting the covering off a platter of mouth-watering veggie and meat buns. He abandons the food to jump down and run over. “You said you weren’t hurt!”
“Only my palm is scratched. I’m okay, Mengmeng. It’s nothing,” Mo Ran says. Xue Meng ignores him, so he holds out his palm for his cousin to inspect. Xue Meng takes it and pries at the scrape on his palm.
“This counts as hurt, stupid!” Xue Meng chastises in the way only a twelve-year-old can—overly authoritative and ready to tattle. “Mom! Mom! Mo Ran’s hurt!”
“It’s really nothing,” Mo Ran repeats, tucking his hands into his lap when Madam Wang gets out of her chair to check on his cuts. “It’s just a scrape. I’ve had worse.”
“Let me see,” Chu Wanning insists, holding out his hand for Mo Ran’s to be placed in his palm. Embarrassed, Mo Ran sets his hand in his shizun’s. Chu Wanning inspects it and summons Shi Mei over too, explaining to them a simple healing technique for minor injuries. A soft green light the same color as the new blades of grass emanates from his palm. It hovers and sinks into Mo Ran’s hand. All three boys watch in wonderment as tender skin grows over the scrape. Mo Ran’s fingers curl around the light, wanting to catch it from its ephemeral source before it sinks fully into his palm. He grins up at his shizun, who gives him an approving look before turning back to the table, saying, “Enough of that. Let’s eat.”
Xue Zhengyong heartily agrees and uncovers the rest of the food. Everyone dives in, grabbing what they want most. Mo Ran and Xue Meng squabble over a spiced rabbit while Shi Mei serves himself through their bickering. Madam Wang reaches straight for the veggie buns. Xue Zhengyong scoops the beef that Xue Meng not so subtly sampled before. Chu Wanning avoids everything covered in red. He reaches for the braised tofu and sautéed greens left abandoned by everyone else.
As they eat, Xue Meng happily tells everyone about how the fish in the river have woken from dormancy and how he’d spent a long time perched above a pool on his walk to town. Mo Ran tells his uncle about how he’d made a new friend yesterday, one of Xuanji Elder’s disciples who had just come back from his first mission for the sect. Mo Ran looks to Chu Wanning with bright eyes and an obvious hope that soon he will be allowed to take his first mission. Chu Wanning is still eating, so Mo Ran eagerly turns to Shi Mei to ask about his first mission, which had only happened the previous autumn. Xue Meng abandons his own recounting of the fish to dramatically talk about the mission he got to accompany Shi Mei on.
Chu Wanning watches everyone eat and jest and joke without speaking much. He never does. He’s content enough to listen and interject when he has something to say. He finds it interesting to hear Shi Mei’s reflection on his first mission. Chu Wanning had thought hard about what would challenge his abilities yet still grant him the accomplishment the first mission symbolically represents. He’s proud of how Shi Mei has grown over the passing years. With the new season warming the skies, he’ll be allowed to travel independently to aid local trifles under the sect’s authority.
He pauses eating to close his eyes again and appreciate the warm sunbeams cast on his back as the boys cackle. He’s full and content. The breeze is picking up again, not into a gust of wind but just enough to make the leaves on the slopes around their clearing rustle and his hair tickle the back of his neck. He couldn’t have imagined this moment only a few years before. Everything is peaceful. Happy. A reprieve from a lifetime of hardships. It’s a family found.
As though sensing his calm, something rustles in the bushes behind Chu Wanning. No one else hears it. The boys’ loud, joyous chatter overwhelms the table. Chu Wanning glances over his shoulder at the trees behind him, all decorated with the tender green of new growth. There’s a pause before another rustle and flash of orange amongst the greenery captures Chu Wanning’s interest.
He pushes his chair back from the table. No one notices except Mo Ran, who follows suit, but Chu Wanning tells him to stay. He leaves the table to the far side of the clearing where he heard rustling. When nothing catches his eye, he curiously pushes through the low bushes and into the treeline. He fully expects to find a little ricecake monster with a bright flower in hand, drawn from the back of the mountain by the laughter and delicious food smells.
“And then—And then– Mo Ran, are you listening? And then I drew my sword and Shi Mei and I—” Xue Meng says, still loudly regaling Shi Mei’s first mission. Mo Ran refocuses his attention on the story with a grin. He's heard it lots of times, but it's always fun. Xue Meng loves telling how he and his best friend worked in perfect harmony to defeat the ghost infestation. Mo Ran hopes that someday someone understands him well enough to work in perfect harmony together. He’s distracted, though. He just can't help glancing over his shoulder because Chu Wanning disappeared into the woods with no explanation over five minutes ago.
He listens to Xue Meng’s story for another minute before he checks over his shoulder again, shooting to his feet when he sees the white form reappearing through the trees. Xue Meng spots Chu Wanning’s return too. And Shi Mei. They all see he holds something in his hands. Chu Wanning doesn't usually bring treats and prizes back for them when he wanders off, which means he has something to show them. All three tumble out of their chairs to run to him, meeting him just where the grassline begins.
“What do you have, Shizun?”
“Oh! Where did you find him?”
“Is that for me!?”
All three gasp when they get closer and clamber around Chu Wanning.
“Don’t scare him,” Chu Wanning calmly orders. In his hands, struggling to get away from him with tiny hisses, is a fat orange kitten. He struggles to hold the little guy as he bites and claws at Chu Wanning, creating a thousand scratches and punctures on his hands. Chu Wanning keeps a firm grasp on the grubby kitten. “He’s very upset.”
“Where was he?!” Xue Meng excitedly asks, bobbing along next to his shizun.
“In the bushes.” Chu Wanning looks to Xue Zhengyong. “Are there any cats back here? I looked for a mother, but there weren't any signs.”
“No,” Xue Zhengyong says. He reaches out and pets the kitten. “I wonder if he wandered up from Wuchang Town. Ah– He’s a sharp one, isn’t he?” Xue Zhengyong withdraws when a ferocious little claw catches his finger.
“Can I hold him? Shizun, can I please hold him?” Xue Meng begs standing in front of his shizun. His eyes are wide, staring at its dense orange fur. He can’t help but grin each time the kitten lets out a bitter little meow.
“Don’t let him escape,” Chu Wanning says, passing Xue Meng the kitten. Xue Meng holds him closely to his chest even as the kitten struggles to get away. He proudly hurries back to his mom to show her, asking her if the kitten is healthy. Shi Mei follows behind, reaching out a hand to brush against the soft coat.
Mo Ran lingers by Chu Wanning. “Shizun,” he says quietly. He reaches out lightly to touch Chu Wanning’s hand. “Can I try the technique you just showed us?”
Chu Wanning slowly unfurls his fingers to lay against Mo Ran’s palm as he focuses hard on healing the scratches, a tentative warmth flowing from disciple to shizun.
At the table, everyone is already eagerly debating names for the kitten. Xue Meng is excitedly yelling over everyone to make sure it’s known that his dad comes up with stupid names, so he’s not allowed to help. Xue Zhengyong ignores him and rattles off names ranging from Fuzzy to Hissy, arguing that they aptly describe the little orange fluff. Xue Meng’s loud disapproval scares the kitten across the table towards Madam Wang who barely catches him. She holds him in her lap, hushing her husband and son. She gently strokes the kitten’s head with a reserved smile until he calms and pops his head above the table again. Xue Meng reaches out a hand to pet the kitten but is met with a tiny hiss.
“Well,” he says with a dramatic pout. “Clearly he’s yours, Mom. You can name him.”
Madam Wang sets the kitten on the table to admire him as Mo Ran and Chu Wanning rejoin the table. Everyone witnesses the kitten lunge for one of the half eaten veggie buns on Madam Wang’s plate, taking a giant chomp from it faster than she can grab him away. When she drags him back, he sinks his claws into the bun as big as him to take it with him.
Xue Zhengyong laughs, watching his wife wrestle the veggie bun from the kitten.
“I think we’ve found Veggie Bun a name.”