Hu Fu Xin grew up as the only son of master Hu Yin. In the years before Xin’s birth, his father, Hu Yin, the son of a general, had grown impatient with his wife. While she was soft-spoken and quick to appease her husband’s demands, she was also physically frail. Hu Yin would have been content with her if not for her inability to carry a male child to term. Hu Yin was elated when Xin was born a whole five years after the birth of his two sisters. Xin, however, never felt this elation firsthand.
His father was absent for much of his life. As Xin grew old enough to talk, and more importantly listen, his father began regaling him with stories of his life before Fujia. These were the only moments Xin could remember spending with Hu Yin. He told stories of duels and contests—fighting against an enemy sect under the banner of the Tora family. He was a promising fighter, so promising that he earned the surname of his sect. Hu Yin was a different man when telling these stories. His usual drunkenness was replaced by a ghost of his former self. Even before Xin could fully understand his father’s words, he treasured these moments.
His father felt whole then.
“XinXin-bo, do not settle for anything less than true greatness. When you are old and gray you should look back on your youth with no regret.”
Hu Yin was the third son of a great general. Despite his passion for cultivation, he was generally overlooked by his father in lieu of his brothers. That is until he attracted the attention of a member of the Shadow Tiger Sect and became one of his disciples. Under the sect’s tutelage and resources, Yin dreamed of one day outmatching his brothers and gaining the much-desired attention of his father. He spoke fondly of these moments, his gaze distant and hopeful.
Xin loved his father then. He seemed a different person, glowing with power and pride. His father never spoke of the tragedy that lamed his right leg and irreversibly damaged his meridians—the injury that brought him to FuJia. Yet Xin grew up with the weight of his father’s regrets.
Since his birth, Xin was built like a boulder. He dwarfed the other children his age and possessed the inherent balance and fortitude of a martial artist. When Xin let his imagination roam free, he often inserted himself into his father’s stories, acting as the mighty sect leader or a magical beast. He would stomp around the house reenacting these scenes, hoping to tease his father out of his usual indifference.
His father, in his feelings of supremacy and distaste for the locals, kept his family isolated from the other villagers. Despite his physical strength, a characteristic even young children prized, Xin was without friends. He would spend many afternoons gazing out of his window at the bridge over the TianZi river. Children would often gather there to swim and catch tadpoles. He did not dare join them, not wanting to cause his father any further shame.
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On one sweltering summer day, shortly before his eighth birthday, Xin decided to take a swim in the river to cool off. The monsoon season was in full force and the ground under his feet squelched as he made his way to the bridge. The air was cloying, thick with moisture and the sounds of insects. Xin did not see any children at the river. It was still early, and the sun sat low and pale in the sky. He secretly hoped that children would come, and he would get to speak to them, even if only at a distance. It was their habit to soak in the river, especially on a hot day like today.
Xin approached the river surreptitiously like a robber in a stranger’s home. He removed his slippers and slid his feet into the stream, savoring the feeling of cold water between his toes. The riverbank was soft with vegetation. He wiggled his toes, letting them sink to the rich silt. He stood there, letting the sounds of the flowing river wash over him.
“Hey, you!” A shout from up above startled Xin. He quickly stepped back out of the river. He chided himself for his weakness. Why was he afraid? He was not doing anything bad. He belonged here as much as anyone.
“Hello…cousins,” Xin said looking up at the boys on the bridge. While he had seen these boys before at a distance, he did not know their names. Xin, however, was easily recognizable as one of the few outsiders in the village. His eyes were light brown instead of the standard black and his hair was coarse and wavy. All children born in FuJia bore the same surname. While some of them had moved here in recent years, like Xin, most were distantly related. Xin, unlike these boys, had a sect name that superseded his surname. The three boys looked down on Xin from the bridge. They looked at one another sharing a conspiratorial smirk.
“Come up, cousin, we would like to speak with you,” the boy in the center said. Xin felt uneasy at their tone but hurriedly obeyed. The three boys were around his size meaning they were maybe two to three years his senior and already students at the JaLong school. He gave a shallow bow, fingers touching his brow, as expected of a lay family member to a cultivator, even ones as novice as these three. The boy in the center with sharp dark brows scowled in response. His lips were pulled back in contempt.
“Cousin, you act as though we are family, but we have hardly ever spoken. Why is that?” The leader of the group asked. His words were spoken with sickly politeness. Xin could feel himself walking into a trap but saw no way to escape.
“Uh…My father, he—”
“Ah yes, your father. The golden tiger. It must be so hard for him, being forced to come to this backwater town. The magistrate sent him for protection, but from what? There is nothing here to protect us from. Nothing at his level anyways. He must be bored out of his mind,” the center boy said. Xin glanced around nervously, unsure of where this conversation was going. “You know, he could try holding technique classes at the temple. I hear he has an insane bloodline technique. He would be loads better than any of our masters. They’re ancient. I swear, Master Lan nearly fell asleep during our last lesson.” His friends giggled in response. While his words were said with a casual friendliness, Xin could feel the trap snap shut around him.
“Um, well…uh…maybe,” he replied meekly. Xin hated himself then. He could not bring himself to look the boy in the eyes, instead focusing on his feet. He twisted his hands together in discomfort. This was not how a hero acted. He should have rejected them outright. There was no way that his father would impart any of his ancestral techniques. They were sacred. Teaching it to them would mean immediate exile from his family. Well, even more so than they already were. He had a feeling that the boy goading him already knew this.
To his shame, he said nothing. The awkward silence dragged on. The older boy seemed emboldened by Xin’s unease. The boy may have been maintaining a sheer veneer of kindness in fear of Xin’s frame and heritage but that was all gone now. He could see that Xin was weak—weak of mind if not weak of body.
“Say, cousin. I have a great idea! Why don’t you show us?” His eyebrows were raised mockingly. “I hear that your family has a great affinity for water. Maybe you can show us a river dive. I would be humbled to receive a demonstration from the tiger’s son.” The boy brought his fist to an open palm and bowed low at the waist. His friends followed suit. Xin felt his face heat in embarrassment. He knew he was being mocked. His family was notoriously skewed in their affinities, favoring fire and shadow to a fault. This didn’t impact Xin though, who was wholly incapable of drawing in any qi.
The three boys smirked at his reaction. They were reveling in his embarrassment. “Well?” They left the rest unsaid. Are you a coward?
Xin could feel their condescension.
His back and neck tingled with heat under the boys’ stares. He could not back down. He had witnessed children jumping off the bridge before. Even if the bridge stands over a hundred handspans in the air, he knew it could be done. Xin looked over the side, and his face blanched at the height. The monsoon season had driven the water level up. The waters were white and dark from the strength and speed of the current. There was no way to see the river bottom. Xin knew sharp stones were jutting out from the riverbed. If he jumped over now, there was no way of knowing how to avoid them.
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Xin’s eyebrows furrowed in determination even as his hands slickened with sweat. He knew that if he refused, they would not push him further. They were bound by honor and village edict from hurting him. They only wanted to belittle him and his family. This, though, was as real a hurt as any. He would not back down from these little men. He could not allow himself to refuse a direct challenge. His family’s honor was at stake. He approached the railing of the bridge, hoping they could not see his legs shaking as he shuffled over. He gripped the bamboo balustrade tightly, getting ready to haul himself up and over the boundary. He readied himself to jump, but a small high voice drew his attention to the end of the bridge.
“Hey XiaoXiao, look at this salamander I found. It’s huge!” A small boy was there gripping a river salamander with both hands. He looked out of breath like he had just sprinted here to show them his prize. The boy looked much younger than Xin. A huge smile was plastered on his face, making his chubby cheeks even more pronounced. Xin recognized the boy at once as one of the other outsiders in the village. Xin had always pitied him. While Xin’s family was alienated due to their martial ability, the younger boy’s family was outcast for an altogether different reason.
“Shang, I told you not to call me that anymore.” The sharp-faced boy sighed, already exasperated.
“Sorry, sorry, I’ve known you since I was a baby XiaoXi-su. It’s hard to remember.” Shang’s face did not look sorry at all. He was still smiling widely with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He quickly joined the group, still holding out his salamander. “What are you guys doing? Do you want to go catch salamanders with me?” he asked innocently. To Xin’s surprise, the stern boy, Xiao, did not react with anger at the boy’s intrusion. Despite their difference in status and Shang’s strange demon mark Xiao looked at him with obvious familiarity, if also a little annoyance.
“No Shang, we aren’t kids anymore. I’m already in my first year at JaLong. I don’t spend my days in the mud catching salamanders,” Xiao said.
“Okay, that’s fine. You’re missing out though. The rain washed up some huge ones. So, what are you guys doing then?” Shang’s gaze flitted between Xin and Xiao.
“Cousin Xin here was just showing us some bloodline affinities. He’s going to jump into the river.” Xiao’s smug smile returned to his face. “I hear that those with strong connections to the water can jump in without a splash, not a droplet of water misplaced.” Shang’s face lit up at the words.
“Wow is that true?” he asked, looking expectantly at Xin. Xin could not meet his gaze, choosing only to shrug. “Well then, I’m going to try.” The boy stated emphatically. “I think I could have a strong water affinity too.”
“Oh, stop it Shang-bo. There’s no way. Your parents are artists, not practitioners.” Xiao said. Shang did not seem to hear him. He walked purposefully to the balustrade, one hand clutching the salamander, the other on the railing, and started to climb. He was almost half the size of Xin, and the railing ended well above his head. “Hey, stop it. You’ll get hurt.” Xiao protested weakly but made no move to stop him. Xin and Shang were technically at the same level of cultivation. To insist jumping from the bridge was dangerous for Shang would imply the same for Xin, making Xiao and his friends appear malicious for suggesting the stunt to begin with.
“Don’t worry about me. I a- ah.” Shang's words ended with a yell of alarm. Shang was already near the top of the barrier. His hands, slick with salamander mucus, left slippery stains on the bamboo as he climbed. As he tried to push himself to stand on top of the railing, his foot slipped on the mucus. He swung his arms around in circles as he tried to balance himself. The salamander flew from his hands and despite his efforts at righting himself, Shang fell back on the bridge with a loud thud. The bridge even shook slightly under the impact. The salamander’s short flight ended on top of the head of Xiao’s friend. The salamander quickly made its escape, leaving a thick trail of slime on the boy’s face and tunic in its escape.
Xiao looked back and forth between the crumpled form of Shang and the disgusted expression of his slime-covered friend before bursting out in laughter. Shang’s legs were almost bent back over his head making him look like a deformed turtle. Xin couldn’t help but smile at the whole ordeal. He hid his smile behind his hands.
“It’s not funny Xiao, do you know how hard it is to get salamander slime out of your hair? Not to mention my uniform.” Xiao’s friend groaned. He looked so pitiful standing there with his tousled hair and slime-covered face. His protestations sent Xiao and his other friend into another fit of laughter. The tension from before completely dissipated. They were both focused on teasing their slime-covered friend.
Xin, however, was focused on Shang. He noticed how closely the young boy was observing Xiao and his friends. It seemed too convenient, like a sequence of a play, all perfectly choreographed. Xin spotted the ghost of a smile on Shang’s lips, hidden under a visage of pain. “Owww…” He moaned loudly. Xiao turned his teasing onto Shang.
“Oh, and you, Shang. Maybe before trying to swim, you can learn to walk on land first.”
“Hey, I wasn’t walking. I was climbing,” Shang whined.
“Ha, well if you weren’t so tiny, you wouldn’t have to climb, would you?” Xiao bit back. They bickered back and forth congenially as Xiao’s friend attempted to wipe off the slime from his clothes with his hands. The trio of students left quickly after that, already running late for their morning meditations. The three of them walked away from Shang and Xin with smiles on their faces. Even the boy still covered in slime appeared to be in good spirits.
Shang was now sitting up, rubbing his back. Xin could see a real tinge of pain there. He walked over to the boy and offered him his hand. Shang smiled up at him, using his hand to pull himself up. The boy’s hand felt tiny in Xin’s grasp.
Xin did not know how to thank the boy. He did not know if he would be offended if Xin admitted to seeing through his ruse. Shang was cleaning off the salamander slime on his hands, rubbing his palms on his tunic. The tunic looked worse for wear even before being covered in dirt from the fall.
“I’ll buy you a new tunic,” Xin said. He immediately regretted his words as they left his mouth. He had spoken without thinking. Everyone knew that Shang’s family was poor, his parents being only artists. Xin did not mean to call attention to that and hurt his pride on their first meeting, especially after all he had done for him. Shang did not seem offended.
“Thanks for the offer. I don’t think my mom will let you buy me a new one though.”
Xin nodded. Pride was something he understood.
“Can I ask you something?” Xin asked tentatively. Shang raised his eyebrows in question but nodded his assent.
“I apologize if this is crude.” Xin paused, thinking over what he wanted to ask. “But why do they like you, Xiao and them?” He could not think of a better way of asking the question in his head. Shang laughed at his wording. He had a wonderful laugh, clear and loud like a bell.
“The same reason they don’t like you,” Shang answered cryptically. Xin’s face scrunched in confusion. He was struck by Shang’s sudden maturity. The goofy smile slid off his face, making him look instantly older. The expression made his pale eyelashes stand out even more, accentuating his strange features. “I’ve known XiaoXiao and his family since I was born. His father is the headmaster at JaLong. He was the top practitioner before your father moved here.” Xin nodded in understanding. He remembered the boy now. He had seen him, though briefly, during meetings between their fathers.
“But that doesn’t explain why he likes you. He seems like a bully,” Xin prodded.
“Me?” Shang gestured to himself. “My family has worked for his family for generations. He knows everything there is to know about me. My past, my father’s past, my father’s father’s past. You,” His small finger stabbed at Xin’s shoulder, “are a threat. Me, on the other hand, am nothing.” He said it without a shred of bitterness in his voice.
“Does it not bother you? People looking down on you?” Xin asked in disbelief. Shang’s smile returned.
“It’s always better to be underestimated,” Shang said. Xin shook his head. He did not understand him. How could he stand being patronized? Nonetheless, he felt a grudging admiration for the younger boy. Xin felt, for the first time in his life, that his father had been mistaken. While these villagers may seem weak in the light of his father’s former glory, this boy had something Xin did not possess. Xin felt drawn to him. In many ways, the boy was the opposite of him. Short when he was tall, pale when he had a healthy golden tan, strong where he was weak.
Shang turned to leave the way he came.
“Thank you, for…” Xin did not know what to thank him for. It seemed like saying it out loud would somehow diminish the true kindness of what he did. Shang shrugged his shoulders in response, as though it was the most insignificant thing in the world to him.
“Friends watch out for each other,” he replied easily. Xin felt his chest warm at the words. Friends. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve to be called his friend, but he was grateful, nonetheless. He would even stand up to his father if he had to. Fu Shang was a friend worth having.