In the vast city of Chongqing, a shabby ox cart could be seen slowly rolling off the paved road to venture off onto a path of dust and rubble. The two brothers had switched to a cart at the market, given there was only a short distance to travel.

The sun had set long ago, but Lanzhi seemed quite familiar with the roads, and had no issue navigating home. After a long day of travelling, Xueming and Lanzhi finally arrived.

They slowly rolled along and came to a stop beside a number of houses which were positioned closely together, all around a communal courtyard. Xueming instinctively knew which one was home.

Lifting his eyes to that house, he was surprised to see candlelight clearly flickering inside. Xueming looked over at his brother, puzzled, Lanzhi only flashed him a half-smile and silently climbed out. He then moved to help his brother climb out, and Xueming felt his feet land on half-dead grass and an infestation of weeds.

“Go on ahead, little brother,” Lanzhi told him, though Xueming hardly wanted to.

He stepped past the closest house to their cart, not even sparing it a glance, and stopped in front of a faded brown gate. With a slight nudge, the gate opened with a creak, and he entered the courtyard. He hobbled over to the house directly opposing the gate as Lanzhi gathered their things from inside the cart.

He suddenly felt stuffy as he approached the house. It was all wood, with fairly large windows and a bright red door. There were already little red tassels and lanterns set up for what Xueming could only assume was the new year celebration, though it wasn’t for nearly a month.

He hardly felt steady as he approached the door. It was his house, and yet he hadn’t been here in years; it wasn’t like he felt comfortable just walking in. But it was too late in the night to make a bunch of noise until they woke up, especially given how close their neighbors lived.

Feeling like an intruder but bearing it anyways, he opened the door, which protested the movement with a croak, and made his way inside. Candlelight illuminated the house, though not too well. His eyes appreciated the lack of light after feeling like they had been on fire all day long. He could comfortably open them and take in his surroundings.

The little house was moderately-sized but sufficient, even cozy.

He immediately found himself in the formal seating area, and he instinctively knew there would be private sleeping quarters and a kitchen further into the house.

Unexpectedly, two figures sat in the shadows of the seating area, and he jumped when he noticed them.

His heart began to pound painfully and he gripped the wall beside him for support.

Those two figures stood up, and one of them cried out—it was definitely a woman.

“Ming-er!” the woman cried out and collapsed on top of him.

Xueming was quite startled to be touched so intimately and tried to back away. He could hardly see his parents' faces, and his brain was still treating them like unidentified strangers. He was trying not to panic, trying not to run.

But when he replayed his mother’s voice in his head, he relaxed, realizing he recognized it.

She began to cry into the pretty white and blue robes he wore, wetting the area beside his shoulder.

He watched his father turn away, lifting his hand to his face, his back shaking.

Xueming laughed awkwardly, quite lost on what to say.

He choked out: “How did you know… I would return…” He was nearly out of air, but it would be quite inappropriate to leave it off there, so he huffed out: “...Tonight?”

His mother was unrelenting in her sobs, insistent on wetting his entire shoulder before she lifted her head. Her eyes were a startling blue, and Xueming idly wondered if his were actually blue and not brown. He hadn't had the chance to look at himself since he left the prison.

Well, he was avoiding it, to be more accurate.

“Lanzhi told us,” his father bellowed out, quite clearly having trouble maintaining his composure. He clearly wanted to be a part of the reunion, but was now on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall as he trembled.

Xueming felt a pang in his heart.

“How was the—” his mother said deliriously. Xueming was afraid she was going to start hyperventilating. “How was the journey? You must be hungry.”

Xueming himself was quite uncomfortable, his breath coming out shallow and rapid. Afraid he was going to start panicking, he sat down at the insistence of his mother. She disappeared down the hall, into what Xueming assumed was the kitchen.

His father glanced over at him and choked out a sob again, then forced himself to sit across from Xueming, his hands trembling. The benches in the seating area formed a semi-circle and were covered in mismatched cushions.

His mother appeared moments later with a bowl of stew and Xueming gratefully accepted it.

“I made some noodles with minced meat,” she told him.

The bowl was trembling in her hands, the chopsticks rattling against it, and Xueming hurriedly took it into his hands.

He was quite unpracticed with chopsticks when he came out of imprisonment, but over the past few months, he and Lanzhi had eaten quite a few meals, and he was used to it again.

He delicately took some noodles covered in tiny pieces of meat and ensured they were soaked in the oil floating at the top before stuffing them into his mouth. He nodded excitedly with his mouth full and his mother clapped her hands together, smiling.

She sat beside her husband, watching Xueming with stars in her eyes.

Lanzhi entered the house a few moments later, smiling at the sight of his brother and his parents in the seating area. He was quite breathless and simply stared at them a few moments before interrupting.

“Mother, father,” he greeted them, and his mother hurried to collapse on top of Lanzhi.

“Oh, my son!” she began to sob again, this time wetting Lanzhi’s shoulder. She was quite short in comparison to him, but reached up to pat his hair. “You did so well.”

Xueming stared at his noodles, finding it quite hard to swallow, his throat constricting with emotion.

Lanzhi peered over at Xueming, and tried to lighten the mood with, “Can I get some noodles as well?”

His mother disappeared into the back of the house again, crying out, “Ming-er, there is plenty left when you are ready for more!”

Xueming nodded as he placed more noodles into his mouth.

Soon enough, all of them were seated in one room, reunited after twenty-five years.

Lanzhi was politely slurping noodles beside his brother as their parents watched them with delighted gleams in their eyes. His father coughed incessantly into his palm, trying to get rid of the flood of emotion washing over him.

“How was the journey?” their mother asked again, still quite overwhelmed. Her words came out in squeaks.

Lanzhi nodded, glancing over at Xueming.

“It went smoothly enough.”

Xueming was quiet for a moment, then swallowed the contents of his mouth and looked up at his mother. Her blue eyes were shining.

“Sorry it took so long.” Xueming said, thinking nothing of it. His parents’ faces froze. “I had to stay in… the hospital for a few months… before we could travel.”

Lanzhi stopped eating beside him.

His mother, looking like that stiff smile was permanently etched onto her face, stood up abruptly, croaked out in a shrill voice, “Let me see if the noodles are still warm,” then disappeared into the back of the house again.

His father turned his body completely away from them, towards the empty bench to Xueming’s left, and covered his face with a hand.

Lanzhi set his bowl on his lap and rubbed Xueming’s arm in comfort.

Xueming went back to eating his noodles, deciding he would have to wait a while before saying anything like that again.

Eventually, his parents recovered, and his mother had actually managed to boil tea during her disappearance. She brought out four tea cups, which clattered on their tiny dishes as she carried them out. Lanzhi went to carry the teapot, which was intricately decorated with swirls and dots of red paint, and set it down on the low wooden table between them.

She also set out a bunch of sweets, such as hardened candy, dried fruit, and sesame treats.

Xueming brought the hot tea to his lips, finding it scalding, but he did not even flinch. The pain was nothing compared to what he was used to, and the heat was welcome; it was quite cold tonight.

Xueming was hyper aware of this moment, like time had slowed and everything around him became painfully clear. Like he could see even a speck of dust floating in the air, or even the slightest twitch in his mother’s expression.

He was gathered with his family in his home, enjoying tea and sweets and most importantly, each other’s company. He had not given himself permission to dream like this in many years, and hoped he could remain in this illusion for a while longer. Actually, he never wanted to wake up from it.

It was nice to remember his family for once.

“Er, er! Try some,” his mother insisted as she pushed the bowl of hardened candies to his side of the table.

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Carefully, Xueming reached for one and brought it to his lips.

He figured he would wake up before he could even take a bite—reality was indeed cruel. But he reached for it anyway despite the risk, not wanting to hurt his mother even the slightest bit. He bit down, and amazingly, his mouth was flooded with the sweetness, and the dream did not end.

Lanzhi had fed him some treats on the way home, but this was his first time tasting his mother’s sweets in years.

Tears welled in his eyes, and after watching him, his mother choked up as well, turning to her husband and covering her mouth with her hand. Her husband patted her back comfortingly.

“These—” she choked out, pushing the plate of sesame treats towards him as well. “These are from Chengan’s mom.”

Lanzhi picked up a piece of dried plum and bit into it.

Xueming frowned, taking another bite of the candy.

“Who?”

His mother was speechless again, and almost collapsed onto her husband when she realized the boy she was referring to hadn’t even been born when Xueming was taken into prison.

“Auntie Xinrou’s daughter-in-law,” Lanzhi said in a low voice.

Auntie Xinrou was one of their closest neighbors as far as Xueming could remember. She was always at their house and vice versa when Xueming was younger.

“Oh,” Xueming nodded, picking up a piece of the sesame treat to reassure his mother.

She seemed to recover upon seeing him try it.

“Xiaojun-er is so filial,” his mother began to blabber, “Remaining in the house with his wife and son.”

Xueming nodded, making the obvious connection from both context and memory that Xiaojun was Auntie Hong’s son. He was content to be able to follow along to this extent, and rewarded himself by devouring the sweet.

At the very least, Xiaojun’s wife was talented in the kitchen.

“That is to be expected,” Lanzhi retorted back.

His mother huffed, giving him a look that told him he was the complete opposite of Xiaojun.

“Yes, well, not every son does what is expected.” She grumbled, and for that her husband hit her lightly on the arm, thinking he was being discreet. Xueming and Lanzhi shared a look. “Yes, well!” his mother said loudly, realizing the inappropriateness of the topic on Xueming’s first night back. “This family was just a little unlucky. At least you, Ming-er, got to—”

Lanzhi set his cup down with a clang, his harsh gaze a warning for his mother.

Their mother, quite startled, and realizing what she had been about to say, stood again, and excused herself lamely to the kitchen.

Xueming pretended he did not hear anything, and simply took a sip of tea under his family’s watchful eye, but her words were quite puzzling. Maybe he really couldn’t follow along.

A short while later, his parents insisted they retire for the night, knowing their sons must be tired after travelling for so long.

Xueming was led to the back of the house and stopped in front of his old room. It felt strange to be here, like he had only ever lived here in a previous life.

Slowly, he pushed the door open, and stopped.

For some reason or other, he knew that everything was exactly the same as it had been when he had left it.

A pile of books lay in the corner of the room, with all his notes strewn about, and various pens on the floor. A small bed was lodged in the corner of the room, as if sleeping was only an afterthought. A tiny desk was placed across from it on the other wall.

Xueming walked closer, as if in a trance.

He put his hands on the bed, noticing the sheets were fresh. His mother surely laid out clean sheets in anticipation of his coming.

Lightly, he sat down, and only looked up from his things when he heard a knock at the door.

“Ming-er?”

Xueming was quiet for a moment, then crooked out, “Yes, mother.”

His mother pushed the door open only enough for her to enter, then shut it closed. She wore a pale undershirt and pants, and the color was such a natural shade, Xueming figured the cloth must be undyed. As she approached closer, he saw they were very old clothes.

She hesitated in the middle of the room, then sighed and sat on the bed beside her son. Petting his head, she kept her voice low and her eyes on Xueming’s chest, unable to meet his gaze just yet.

“I just wanted to see my son before he sleeps.”

Xueming offered her a small, clumsy smile, thinking he likely looked odd trying to smile. He hadn’t yet become accustomed to it.

“I will be here in the morning.”

His mother’s eyes hardened.

“You sure will be.” Petting him again, then letting her hand rest on his back, she said in a small voice, “No one will take you away again.”

Xueming laid his arm around her in an awkward hug.

“I just wanted to say,” she paused, looking up at him, “Ignore all the idle words your mother said.” She smiled softly. “Half of what comes out of my mouth is nonsense anyways.”

Xueming furrowed his brows, feeling some stir of emotion in his chest. He found it quite difficult to reply.

“Ignore it all,” she said again, her tone lightening, “Except when I say you need to eat more.” Xueming actually felt his smile soften. “And that you and your brother are the most filial.” His vision began to blur, along with hers. She choked out the next words in what was nearly a whisper: “...And that I am so happy you could make it home.”

Xueming was awoken by a soft shake of his arm.

He hadn’t really had a sleep routine in prison, but he never truly had a good night’s rest there. It felt as though when he closed his eyes, he was entering some strange half-conscious state of restlessness.

Now, he was just starting to realize the joy of sleeping in, but he was still a light sleeper.

Which was why it was surprising when he finally heard all the commotion in the house.

His mother’s blue eyes glimmered before him, her face far too close for comfort. Her hand was gentle but insistent, and she continuously whispered what everyone was claiming to be his actual name.

“Xinrou-jie is here with Xiaojun-er and his little Chengan.” She flashed her son an apologetic smile as he blinked, trying to understand. “I told them to come later but they were so concerned.”

Xueming tried to prop himself up on an elbow, looking around as he noticed the light pouring in from both the hallway and the window beside him. The sun was already out; he had slept through the entire morning.

His mother was already dressed for the day in a long blue top with wide sleeves and matching pants. Her hair was twisted up off her neck with dainty little hair pins. She had stayed up so late last night preparing food and worrying over her sons, but her blue eyes were shining as if she was completely refreshed.

“I think Lanzhi already told you we initially lied about your whereabouts,” she winced, taking her son’s hand into hers. “I feel…” she hiccuped dramatically. “Especially since you initially were going to study…”

Xueming shook his head, swallowing down a yawn, his eyes heavy as he watched emotion twist his mother’s expression.

His mother flashed a smile as she tried to calm herself.

“Well, we changed the story now that it is safe to do so. We said you had actually been arrested one day in Huo Guang Market for associating with the… foxfolk.” She was carefully watching his reaction, but also felt quite embarrassed and wanted to look away. She felt small, powerless, cowardly, to have even lied about her son’s whereabouts to protect herself. As if she was erasing what he went through before it even happened. “That you defended them,” she sighed, rubbing her face with a hand. “Since we all know they were being treated unreasonably by that unbearable king.”

Something in her seemed to snap, and the gleam in her eyes turned ferocious. Xueming watched his mother with curious eyes.

“They tried and tried for years to convince us that the Fox Spirit Clan were animals by nature,” she spat out. “But it is the king’s men who were dog trash. It was the king who was a bastard.”

Xueming’s mouth twitched. He almost felt the urge to laugh.

His mother flashed another smile, reigning her emotions back in, and rubbed his hand gently.

“Anyways, we said you were actually held in Mengjing, since that only made sense.”

Xueming cleared his throat lightly and nodded once.

“That is fine.” He paused, looking at the uncertainty on his mother’s face. He added, “That helps a lot.”

It would be quite unbearable to pretend he had gone off to study and live as he pleased for the past twenty-five years, when he had actually been in prison.

“Mengjing prison…” Xueming said slowly, straining to remember which prison was there. His eyes suddenly snapped up as he remembered. “Mengjing Eming, no?”

His mother nodded gravely.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I will say I was there…”

“I am so sorry, Ming-er,” his mother said in a thick voice, burying her face in his hand.

“It’s alright,” he said honestly, though it seemed they were both talking about different things. “I am sure… it is not much different there… anyways.”

Xueming carefully stood and got dressed in those pristine white and blue robes his brother had bought him on their journey home. He was a little wary about meeting others, and listened to their chatter from his room for a while to prepare. Their voices were only a low hum, so he couldn’t quite understand what they were saying.

After washing up, he took a deep breath, feeling as though there was a stone in his stomach, and slowly made his way to the reception room they all sat in last night.

The hum of voices had been continuous and even passionate at times while Xueming was getting ready, but all conversation ceased as soon as he appeared. His eyes landed on their neighbor, Auntie Xinrou, whose hand was clasped in his mother’s. She was seated on the wall directly across from him beside a petite-looking woman.

His parents were on the bench to his right, and Lanzhi and Auntie Xinrou’s son were on the one to his left. A boy looking who appeared to be in his early adolescence was seated on a little stool beside that unnamed woman.

“Ming-er,” Auntie Xinrou cried out, immediately standing and coming over to get a closer look at Xueming. He began to feel bugs crawling all over his body, like there was some insatiable itch he could not satisfy.

Her tough arms wrapped around him in a bear-like hug and the air was instantly knocked out of him. Auntie Xinrou was small but sturdy.

Xueming felt raw emotion swell in his eyes, in his mouth, in his throat. For some reason, he felt like crying again.

“Thank the heavens for your safety,” the woman said sincerely, pulling back to look at him, still holding by the arms. “We could only find out what happened when the king was overthrown. To think…” Her voice trailed off.

Xueming was staring at that little boy, who was curiously staring back with an unrelenting gaze.

“To think that you had… gone to hell,” she choked out.

Xueming’s mother stood to come hug her best friend from behind.

Xueming would have collapsed from the weight of her words, if not for that little boy distracting him. He ignored the women’s crying, finding it unbearable.

He had gone to hell.

But now, he was home.

He spotted some more sesame sweets on the table, which were surely from that petite woman Xueming could only assume was Auntie Xinrou’s daughter-in-law. He glanced around for somewhere to sit.

He really only had a simple thought in his mind.

It would be nice to eat some more of those.