I waved goodbye to Li Wei as he disappeared back into his family's workshop, his excitement about the greenhouse infectious. The glass panes had arrived in perfect condition, and he was eager to start installing them first thing in the morning. As I turned to head home, the evening air was crisp, carrying the subtle scent of pine and woodsmoke. The village was settling down for the night, but my mind was anything but quiet.

Walking along the familiar path, I couldn't help but replay Elder Ming's words from this morning's training session.

"Conditioning isn't just about toughening your body. It's about understanding the mechanics, the flow of energy, and how to deliver power without harming yourself."

At the time, I'd nodded along, thinking I understood. But the more I mulled it over, the more I realized I'd missed a crucial nuance. My approach had been all wrong. I was so focused on hardening my fists and shins by striking unyielding surfaces that I'd overlooked the essence of the practice.

I paused mid-stride and threw a punch into the open air, imagining the impact against a solid, unmoving tree trunk. My knuckles twinged at the thought, having experienced it far too often. Then I visualized the same punch connecting with something that had a bit of give, like a flexible piece of wood or bundled reeds. The difference was palpable, even in my mind. Striking a surface that absorbed some of the impact would allow me to focus on technique, ensuring proper alignment and energy transfer without the immediate risk of injury.

"A perfect punch shouldn't hurt the one throwing it," I muttered to myself, recalling Elder Ming's mantra. It made sense now. By practicing on something with slight resistance, I'd not only improve my form but also condition my body more effectively.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as a plan began to form. I needed to build a training apparatus that embodied these principles; a target that could mimic the resistance of an opponent while still offering enough flexibility to prevent self-injury.

"Perhaps a post wrapped in layers of bamboo strips or padded with woven fibers..."

The last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and purple as I reached my home. The familiar sight of my shop and the partially constructed greenhouse brought a sense of comfort. I stepped inside, expecting to hear the soft flutter of Tianyi's wings or catch a glimpse of her darting through the rafters. But the space was quiet, save for the gentle creaking of the floorboards beneath my feet.

"Tianyi?" I called out, glancing around. No response. Odd. She usually greeted me the moment I returned.

Shrugging it off, I reasoned she might be tending to the garden or off bisecting another bird. She was a free spirit, after all. I made a mental note to check on her later.

Setting my thoughts back on the training apparatus, I rummaged through my supplies, gathering materials that might serve my purpose. As I worked, Windy slithered into the room, his blue-tinted scales catching the light.

"Have you seen Tianyi around?" I asked him.

He paused, tongue flickering before giving what could only be described as a serpentine shrug. I chuckled softly. "Thanks for the help."

Back outside, I began assembling the training post. I drove a sturdy stake into the ground, ensuring it was firmly planted. Around it, I layered thinner branches, binding them tightly with cord to create a surface that was solid yet yielding. Testing it with a light tap, I felt it give ever so slightly.

"Perfect," I whispered.

I took a stance, feet shoulder-width apart, grounding myself as Elder Ming had taught me. Drawing a deep breath, I executed a series of punches, each one deliberate and controlled. The post absorbed the blows, the slight resistance allowing me to focus on the mechanics—alignment of my wrist, the rotation of my hips, the grounding of my stance.

The difference was immediate. Without the harsh jarring of striking an immovable object, I could sense the flow of energy from my core to my fist. It felt right.

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After a few minutes, I shifted to practicing knife-hand strikes, something I hadn't devoted much time to before. Positioning my hand with fingers straight and tight together, I struck the post's surface with the edge of my hand. The unfamiliar motion sent a mild sting up my arm, but I adjusted my technique, ensuring proper form.

"Every part of the fist needs conditioning," I reminded myself. "Not just the knuckles."

I continued alternating between strikes, slowly building a rhythm. The evening air cooled the light sheen of sweat on my brow, and for a moment, all distractions faded away. It was just me, the post, and the steady cadence of my training.

Time slipped by, and the sky deepened into twilight. Finally, I lowered my hands, flexing my fingers to ease the slight stiffness settling in. There was a satisfying ache—a sign of muscles worked but not overstrained. This would have to do for now, especially since my supply of healing hydrosol was running out.

Glancing back toward the house, I expected to see Tianyi's soft glow or hear the gentle buzz of her wings. But the yard remained quiet, shadows stretching across the ground.

I frowned, a nagging feeling creeping up my spine. She was never gone for this long. Her usual flitting about the garden or appearing to hover near me had become a staple of my day, a constant that I relied on more than I realized. But now… nothing.

"Tianyi?" I called out again, louder this time, as I approached the house. Still no answer.

A flicker of unease stirred within me. I glanced around the yard, scanning for any sign of her, but the fading light made it hard to see much. I reached out through the bond we shared, closing my eyes to focus. It was faint, like trying to grasp at a fading echo, but I could sense her. Barely.

With my heart beating faster, I centered myself and tried to focus on the faint pull of our bond. It led… toward the forest. The same direction where that wolf had attacked just days ago. A cold realization hit me, and my chest tightened.

'No. She couldn’t have—'

I didn’t finish the thought. Without another moment’s hesitation, I infused qi into my legs and bolted, sprinting toward the tree line. Each stride felt like I was covering several li, the world blurring as I pushed myself harder. Wind roared in my ears, but I didn’t stop.

The thought of finding her hurt, or worse, sent a chill down my spine. My breath quickened, turning ragged as my chest tightened, and for a moment, I thought I might choke on the air itself.

The forest loomed ahead, the trees dark silhouettes against the deepening night. The quiet was unnerving. No birds, no insects, only the sound of my own heartbeat, too loud in my ears.

"Tianyi!" I shouted, desperation lacing my voice.

My breaths came in sharp bursts as I focused harder on our bond, sensing her presence nearby, though still faint. My eyes darted left and right, scanning the darkened underbrush. The tension in the air felt thick, palpable, and every shadow seemed to whisper danger.

Then, through the thicket, I caught a glimpse of movement.

I froze.

A figure stood amidst the trees, small and seemingly fragile, but there was something deeply unnatural about them. My breath stilled as I took in the sight.

At first glance, it seemed like a girl, but the more I looked, the more I realized that wasn’t right.

The wings were the first thing I noticed, bright blue and shimmering in the pale moonlight, sprouting from her back and fluttering gently.

Her skin was smooth and pale, but it wasn’t quite right. Lines ran across her body in sections, like the joints of finely crafted lacquered wood or the seams of porcelain figurines. Each segment was slightly raised, as though her skin had been formed in pieces and fitted together. Her hair cascaded down, with two distinct strands falling down and framing her face.

It was her eyes that unsettled me the most—far too large for a human face, dark and shimmering, holding a depth that felt more animal than person. And though her form was otherwise unclothed, it was devoid of any real detail, as if she had been sculpted from jade.

And yet, her wings... those wings were undeniably familiar.

My mind struggled to comprehend what I was seeing.

I took a step forward, my mouth dry, words caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion. And then, the possibility hit me like a wave.

"...Tianyi?"

The figure turned, her too-wide smile gleaming unnaturally bright. My pulse quickened as she locked her gaze onto me. My mouth went dry, and a prickling sensation crept up the back of my neck. It felt like the earth itself was tilting beneath me.

The air shifted with her movement, a blur of blue wings and shadow. One moment she was distant, the next, her wings stirred the wind around me, her fingers wrapped around my wrists before I could blink.

But there was no attack. Instead, she grabbed my wrists, her grip gentle yet firm, and a warm, soothing energy flowed from her touch. The cuts and bruises from my training earlier began to heal, the pain fading away almost instantly.

"I figured it out," she said softly, her voice surprisingly clear, yet carrying an otherworldly echo. "I figured out how to become human."

My vision swam, blurring the world around me as the realization crashed into me like a tidal wave—this was Tianyi. Somehow, impossibly, she had transformed—become something beyond what I could comprehend. But my mind struggled to keep up, the flood of emotions and disbelief colliding with the stark reality in front of me.

A sharp heat surged through my body, too intense for the winter chill that clung to the air. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, soaking into my collar despite the icy breeze. My heart pounded violently in my chest, each beat louder than the last, echoing in my ears like the relentless drumming of war. I felt the world tilting, my legs unsteady, my skin burning as if the very air had thickened, pressing down on me.

The cold that should have been biting at my skin barely registered; instead, I felt fevered, my breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. Every nerve in my body tingled with confusion, panic, and awe, all tangled together in a mess I couldn't unravel.

Her smile, a smile that was too wide, too perfect, never faltered as she watched me, but the edges of my vision began to darken. The world around me dimmed, the sound of the forest fading into a muffled hum. My legs trembled, the strength in them slipping away as my knees buckled under the weight of everything.

“Tianyi...” I whispered, my voice barely more than a strained breath. My head felt too light, too heavy at the same time, and I knew I was losing the battle to stay conscious.

The heat in my chest rose higher, consuming the last remnants of my awareness. My eyelids fluttered shut, and as the darkness rushed in, the last thing I saw was her standing there, her wings shimmering faintly in the moonlight.

And then, everything went black.