Shang woke feeling refreshed. The air was unusually warm for midwinter, and the sun’s rays created dapples of light and dark on his covers. Shang breathed in deeply and was pleasantly surprised by his lack of pain. A bowl of rice porridge sat on his bedside table, trailing tendrils of white steam through the air. Shang reached for the bowl. Hot but not scalding, just how he liked it. Somehow, his mother always knew when he would wake up.

Shang scarfed down the porridge and readied himself for his visitors. In preparation for the Shadow Tiger sect’s arrival, Xin and YiHua both had extra training. Yet, the training did not seem grueling enough because they both found time every day to hover over him protectively. The door to his room creaked open earlier than expected. Shang turned to see Fang standing at the doorway, holding a large pot.

“Your mother said I should just come in,” she said. Her discomfort was clear in the way she held pot like a shield between them.

“Fang, you got my letter! I thought you hadn’t since you never came to visit,” Shang said with a toothy smile. His mother had insisted that Shang send a letter of apology to Xiao, which he did. He had to rewrite it a couple of times per his mother’s orders. Apparently, his sarcasm was not as disguised as he had formerly thought.

He also wrote Fang a letter to show his gratitude. He had assumed the letter was intercepted by one of the house staff since he never got a response. “I have a board in my room, but we can also play in the courtyard, the weather’s beautiful outside,” Shang said, gesturing to the weiqi board. The board was the size of a small table and made of dark aged maple. The top of the wood was scored with nineteen lines vertically and nineteen horizontally, creating 361 small intersecting points. Two bowls of white and black stones made of porcelain sat on each side of the board.

“Your mother told me to bring you this. She said the steam would help with your breathing.” She set down the steaming pot of medicinal potion.

“You’re right, I should get this out of the way.” Shang had been getting medicinal steam treatments since his accident as a child. Even though his lungs had healed thanks to the blood gem, his mother still insisted on the treatment. Shang hovered over the pot with a cloth over his head. He breathed in deeply, not even recoiling at the strong pungent odor and sting of medicinal herbs. As always, his whole body tingled with each inhalation, and his fingertips grew numb. Fang was already waiting for him at the board when he was finished.

“I was surprised when you invited me for a game,” she said, gesturing to the stones.

“Well, I was curious. I heard rumors you liked to play. But you’ve never come to the shop,” Shang said. He sat down on the opposite side of the board. “I want to thank you again. I hope it didn’t strain your relationship with your brother to help me.” Fang gave a shrug in response.

“Let’s just play.” She played white and set the first stone. The game proceeded at a much faster pace than the games he played with his mother. Shang was surprised by how quick and brazen Fang was with her moves. She had an almost frantically abrasive play style. Depsite the aggression plain to see on the board, Fang’s face was serene.

She was better than most of his students at the salon. In spite of her play style, there was logic in her moves. She was thinking many steps ahead, solidly building her position at the center of the board. Shang’s probing attacks were quickly cut off. Her stones were set with ruthless certainty. The battle at the center was nearly decided, and with it, her victory would be ensured. Fang’s smug glances at Shang made it clear she thought he should resign. Dragging out a lost game was never good. It was an indication of either ignorance that the game was lost or pettiness, the former being far more shameful.

Shang merely smiled blithely. The game was just beginning. Slowly, the tides began to turn. Her white stones were hitting the board with far less certainty, the time between moves growing steadily until she was at a standstill.

She was gaping at the board in shock. There was a jerking hesitancy as she placed a black captured stone on the board in resignation.

Fang sighed, leaning back from the board. “That was an instructive game,” she muttered begrudgingly.

“I’m glad. You were doing well until the…”

Fang proved an attentive student as they discussed the game. Surprisingly, she was conciliatory and open to critique.

“Your stones were scattered here, it leaves room for an oblique attack, like this.” Shang was enjoying himself. He hadn’t been back at the salon since his injuries, and he didn’t realize how much he had missed it, not just playing, but discussing the strategy of the game.

“But what about this move--” Fang’s question was cut off by muffled voices outside.

“Shhh! He might still be asleep. Stop stomping around like that. You’re shaking the floor.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose. What about you? You’re not very good at shushing quietly.” Shang gave Fang an apologetic look as two sets of eyes peered from the open door. “See, he’s awake,” Xin said, “and he has company.” Fang stood at their arrival, mumbled a brief thank you and goodbye to Shang before rushing out. “Wait, don’t leave on our account.” Xin held up a hand to stop her, but she was already gone.

“What’s that about?” Shang questioned.

Xin gave YiHua a meaningful look. “Probably scared of YiHua, I’m guessing,” Xin said.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I apologized to her. She gave me the same reaction she always does. She just doesn’t like me,” YiHua grumbled.

“Did you really apologize though?” Shang asked.

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“What’s that supposed to mean? I said I did, didn’t I? I apologized.” Shang and Xin exchanged a knowing glance. “You two, stop that,” YiHua said.

“Stop what?” they both asked in unison.

“We just know how your apologies usually sound,” Xin explained.

“Yeah, more like a threat than anything else,” Shang added.

“If you think my apologies are like threats then you’ve no idea what real threats sound like.”

“Yeah…YiHua, that was a threat,” Shang said. Xin nodded in agreement. YiHua gave both boys a disgusted look, shaking her head.

“Why do I put up with you two?” YiHua asked. Shang laughed but his smile didn’t touch his eyes. He was going to miss this.

“What’s wrong?” Xin asked.

“Hmmm?”

“We can tell something’s bothering you. Are you sick?” YiHua asked, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.

“Why are you checking my temperature, I don’t have a fever.”

“Usually, it’s not the actual injury that kills someone, it’s the infection that develops after,” YiHua explained.

“Or is it your shoulder?” Xin asked, gesturing at his bandaged arm.

“No, it’s neither. I feel fine. Honestly, I’m not even in pain anymore. I can even move my shoulder a little, no problem,” Shang said.

“Then what is it?” Xin insisted. Shang looked down at his hands, unable to meet their eyes.

“It’s just, I really like you guys,” Shang said. Xin and YiHua both stiffened at his proclamation.

“You guys are my best friends. It’s nice, being here, with you both,” Shang explained.

“You can’t say stuff like that. It’s so embarrassing,” YiHua complained, ears red at the tips.

“Stuff like what? You guys are so weird. I love you guys. Can’t I tell you?”

“Like that! You may have grown up in a weird household, but don’t just go around professing your love to people. It’s really not normal.” YiHua grumbled. “Besides, why does that get you down?”

Shang paused, trying to put his muddled feelings into words. “It’s just that I feel like things won’t be like this forever. Things are going to change, and maybe, we won’t be able to be together anymore,” Shang admitted.

“Don’t be stupid. Is this about the Shadow Tiger sect? I already told you, remember? We’ll go together, the three of us,” YiHua said. Xin nodded emphatically. Shang was flattered by their optimism.

“I know that’s what you said. I know they will take both of you, but me on the other hand…” YiHua leaned forward and grasped Shang’s unbandaged hand, face determined. It was rare of her to initiate any physical contact. Shang looked up, meeting her eyes.

“I don’t know about Xin, but I don’t want to go if we can’t go together.”

“Hey, don’t leave me out like that. I feel the same. It’s all of us or none of us. Besides, if they see you perform, it’ll be a sure thing. That’s why you need to rest. You need to be in good shape for when they arrive,” Xin proclaimed.

Shang looked between the best friends he had in the world. He felt full to the brim. He was selfish to voice these worries out loud. No matter what, he would see to their success. His friends were the best parts of him. They were brave and loyal and blessed by heaven. Shang felt the lump of worry disappear, replaced by determination and a sense of resolve.

“Are you crying?” YiHua asked.

“No…” Shang sniffled.

“That’s sure a lot of water coming out of your eyes for someone that’s not crying,” she said. “Oh no, not you too XinXin. Seriously, what am I going to do with you two?”

Under the careful attention of his mother and friends, Shang fully recovered in two weeks. Shang stretched out in the morning sun, getting ready for his daily forms. He rolled his shoulders. Carefully massaging his tender forearm. His body slipped easily into the first kata and flowed into the second. By the tenth, he was covered in a sheen of sweat and his shoulder was beginning to twitch.

“It’s best not to push it,” his father said as he stepped beside his son. He moved with him through the last of the first twelve katas before insisting that Shang take a break. They both sat, reclining in the morning sun. The chill air was refreshing after the exercise. “I heard that you’re going to ask the sect to take you on as an artist apprentice.” To Shang's surprise, he quickly added, “I didn’t mean to snoop, but I overheard when I walked by your room. Your friends can be loud.”

“Yeah, I haven’t talked to mother about it yet,” Shang admitted, slowly sipping from a water gourd. LingDan nodded in understanding.

“I didn’t say anything, but I think she already knows,” he admitted. “Don’t look so surprised son. You’re a thousand years too young to hide anything from her.”

“Is she okay with it then?” Shang asked, his voice hopeful. He had expected his mother to reject the idea outright. It was hard to believe that she would endorse an idea that put him leagues away in an unfamiliar land.

“Why don’t you talk to her. I know you think she’s overprotective, but she just wants the best from you. She knows more of the world than I do. To me, the Shadow Tiger sect is just a legend, I’ve never met anyone from that sect, let alone the leader,” LingDan said, “but I trust your judgment, son. I know keeping you here would be a waste of your talent.” Shang felt warmth spread from the chest at the compliment.

“I think I know what she’s going to say. I really don’t want to spend the next two weeks fighting with her.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Your mother is full of surprises. She and I have done our best to teach you everything we know, but like I said when you were young, we both knew you were never going to stay in this village.”

Shang gave a heavy sigh, thinking back to the conversation he had with his father on the day of his testing. “You were right,” Shang said, “what you said that day. You said I would be grateful one day for failing. Back then, I didn’t believe you, but you were right.”

LingDan smiled warmly at his son. “Maybe I can still teach you a few things after all. Have you been reading those scrolls from LaoZi like I asked?”

“Yes, father. I’m almost done.” Shang’s father was insistent on reading philosophy of long dead poets. Most of it was too abstract and tedious for Shang to comprehend, but he saw their value. Shang could see his mother crouched beyond the courtyard entrance, working in her garden. He was too far to hear, but he was sure that she was humming as she worked.

“I’ll talk to her.”

ChuHua turned at Shang’s approach. Her long hair was still pure silky black, untouched by age. Today, it was pulled back into a long braid. The butterfly hairpin father made for her held back her stray hairs as she tended to her flowers. To Shang, her face was so familiar and open that it hurt to look at. She must have seen something in his expression. She knew him better than he knew himself. ChuHua set her tools and approached her son. She pulled his head to her shoulder and patted his back soothingly. Tears came unbidden to Shang’s eyes for the second time this month.

“Whatever you do, wherever you are, I know you will make me proud.” she ran her hands through hair. They were so warm that it almost burned.