It was dark and cold when Pia awoke, goosebumps prickling her skin. Using her knife and flint, she struck a spark, gathering it with fire yi and pulling it toward her candle. After weeks of traveling in the open, she'd grown adept at coaxing even the smallest threads of fire. The candle offered only the faintest light, but it was enough to change her clothing, tug on her boots, and quickly re-braid her hair.
Running through her stretches, Pia carefully stretched her back, hips, thighs, calves, and ankles. Sixteen li…Back in Dwelling, that’d be a breeze. Now, it’d been awhile since she’d run any distance. Cramps were unbearable to Pia, so she took special care to prep each muscle, before heading out to run.
It was dark outside, with only a few burning lanterns lit in the corridor. Stray flakes fluttered whimsically through the air. Her breath fogged before her, and Pia imagined herself to be a tiny dragon terrorizing the town. The thought entertained her for a while, as she navigated her way at a jog.
It was silent and calm as she jogged the streets. Dwelling had often felt isolated, but it had never been fully silent. Passing carts, barking dogs, laughing children, or arguing villagers were common sounds at any time during the day, even curfew. In the grasslands, Pia came to love the sound of silence, broken only by the natural music of nature. Yet, there had been a part of her that missed those sounds of town life.
Her ears rang with that static sound of silence. Only the sound of her feet crunching on the snow crusted ground and her panting breath filled her ears. The lungs, which had grown lazy over the months, quickly complained, burning hot with anger at the exertion. Switching to a deeper breathing pattern, Pia breathed out, held it for ten seconds, then took a breath in for five. As she ran, she kept that pattern, in for five, out for ten, in for five, out for ten, until her lungs relaxed and the stitch that had threatened to form in her side subsided.
Last evening, Pia had returned to Lunar Haven to find that Noni had brought the ink and paper to her room. Grateful, Pia had sat down and quickly drawn a map of Cangzhi from her memory. Already she was seeing spots she’d forgotten, but overall, Pia was glad that most of her memory had held true.
If her memory and math were correct, the outer ring path was exactly four li all the way around. Leaving Cangzhi Manor, Pia had turned right then right again by the fountain. The main path looped all the way around the courtyard houses, past the front entrance, and then cut past Cangzhi Manor marking one full pass.
Sixteen li, four turns around the complex. Pia could do it. Getting into a rhythm, Pia dug in. By the second pass, sweat poured from her body and her thighs quivered in protest. The sun peeked its face through the clouds, sleepily sending faint morning rays across the darkness of the sky.
A beautiful red, orange glow lit up the horizon. Snowbirds began to call out their odd little double chirp. Flashes of yellow and red from their beaks and feet began to flit in and out of her vision as the birds began searching for their morning meal. The sight renewed her energy and Pia continued her run.
On her final circle around Cangzhi, Pia felt as if her legs might collapse. Sixteen li accomplished yet she felt as if she’d barely managed. Wobbling back to the manor for her meal, Pia saw Ruwe in the doorway. He was dressed in simple robes, leaning against the open doorway, watching her with his usual impassive look.
“You look rough,” he said by way of greeting.
“I feel worse,” she joked, but her voice came out raspy.
“Come in and eat after you stretch. I’ve got things to discuss with you.”
Interest piqued; Pia tried to hasten, using the front steps of Cangzhi to stretch. At the rush, every muscle protested loudly, and she slowed back down with a wince. Slow and methodical it was.
Once done, Pia entered Cangzhi, eagerly making her way to the main hall. Easing herself down at the table, Pia smiled at her Master. She’d grown accustomed to eating with Ruwe, Haojie, and Yijun, so over the last couple of days, when she’d eaten alone, it’d been lonely. Catch her dead before she'd admit it, but Pia was thrilled for the company. Eating alone had always been one of her least favorite things. Spending time with Fewl and Conch, sharing a meal, those memories were near and dear to her heart. There was something special about a shared meal.
When the servants brought the food to them Pia picked up her chopsticks eagerly. The lightly grilled fish on rice was paired with a vegetable noodle soup. The smells made her stomach growl. She dug in with glee.
Ruwe poured her tea, and said, “I told the servants to prepare lighter meals for morning and midday meals. Training hard means you need energy, but too much food between heavy bouts of training will make you sick.”
It made sense to Pia; besides, it wasn’t like she was used to heavy meals like she’d had the last couple days. In Dwelling, and on the plains, meals were sufficient but not substantial.
“I wanted to discuss your training with you,” Ruwe started, voice hesitant and slow. His fingers rolled his teacup across the table, rocking it gently back and forth.
Pia looked up from her soup, noodles hanging from her lips.
“Tomorrow, I am departing from Cangzhi for some time. Haojie and Yijun will stay and monitor your training for me. You know they’re equally well equipped to manage your training,” he paused, giving her a knowing look, and added, “I am not discarding you as an apprentice.”
Slurping the noodles into her mouth Pia’s face took on an unhappy look. Unconsciously, her hand fell to her lap, curled around the black token that always hung at her side now. Her thumb rubbed over the smooth, black and white surface, comforting herself with its presence.
Trying to keep the anxiety she felt from her voice, Pia asked, “I can’t come with you?”
He shook his head negatively, sending his braid tumbling over his shoulder to drape down his front. The thick braid was still tied with a simple black ribbon. Just like Pia’s two were.
“Where I am going, it’s not time for you to visit yet. In the future perhaps, but not now.”
Her chopsticks rested in her soup as she thought. Idly she stirred the soup, swishing the spinach leaves around. It felt like a sly bait, a little information to hook her.
“Where are you going?” she asked, giving him a wary look, wondering if he’d tell her.
Surprisingly, he did, saying, “I’m going to Siji for Winter Solstice, but I should be back for the Lunar New Year. If not before, shortly after.”
Pia coughed in surprise, and reached for her tea, gulping it down to clear her throat. He’d be gone for three months! That was almost longer than how long she’d known him! Would he come back for her? Was she being passed off to the sect now that they’d arrived? Anxiety soured her belly, and Pia placed her chopsticks across her bowl and pushed it away. She couldn’t stomach anymore food.
Seeing her anxious, unhappy face, Ruwe shifted in his seat, thinking of the right words to say.
“You’ve probably been curious about my role as a Duke?” he said, with a questioning tone, watching her face. Seeing the instant sharpening of her eyes in interest, Ruwe hid a smile. He’d known she’d been dying of curiosity about his identity. Pia curled one of her braids around her finger, twirling it absently as she waited for him to continue.
“Two of my responsibilities as a Duke are reporting to court and bringing tributes to the emperor. Normally, I send tributes from Cangzhi, but it’s been a few years since I attended Winter Solstice in Siji. Today I received a letter summoning me. It’s not one I can refuse,” he said, voice tinged with bitterness.
Her brow pulled tight. It hadn’t occurred to her that the title of Duke was more than a societal honor. The way he spoke about it made it seem more like a yoke for an ox than a carrot. He couldn’t refuse? Pia’s frown deepened. Were nobles just as vulnerable to the whims of those with greater status? It baffled her. As an orphan, she had always been surrounded by those of higher status. To hear Ruwe, a Duke—one of the highest official positions—utter bitterness about his role was mind-boggling. Was it just an endless cycle of one-upping until the very top? The bitterness in Ruwe’s tone spoke volumes about how he felt about going to Siji.
“Do you not like being in Siji?” she asked, trying to understand why he’d avoided returning.
Ruwe’s lips quirked upward at her question. He reached out and poured them both some fresh tea. His eyes watched the steam rise from his cup as he thought about how to answer her.
“Siji is a sight to see. It’s a massive city full of people from all nations, cultivators from all sects, and even the occasional courteous demon,” he paused for effect, seeing her eyes go wide at that last bit of information, “but it doesn’t matter if the nations are at peace. The political schemes are always afoot and always dangerous.”
Leaning forward, Ruwe reached out and gently grabbed her cheeks. Lips puffing like a fish, Pia’s wide eyes met his icy cold, gaze as he said with utmost seriousness, “Remember this: even if the water is still, don’t trust the surface. Being in Siji is being in a den of snakes, unaware of which are the real threat.”
The hold on her face was gentle, and he released her as soon as he’d made his point. The sudden change in his mood, from calm and pleasant to frigid and intense had startled her. The coldness of that gaze made her shiver lightly. Picking up her tea, Pia sipped it, thinking. It seemed Ruwe didn’t want her with him because Siji wasn’t safe for her. Being gently called weak and vulnerable wasn’t a good feeling, but she remembered the ‘yet’ in his words, and the tension in her shoulders relaxed.
“It sounds complicated. I thought the martial arts world was supposed to be about growing spiritual power, being one with yi, and maintaining a virtuous heart. Politics sounds the complete opposite,” she said, thinking back to her classes in Dwelling, and all the focus on maintaining virtue in one’s deed, and carrying a sword with a pure heart.
She looked over at her master, hoping she didn’t sound naïve. He gave her a tiny smile.
“You’re not wrong. Power is a double-edged sword, you’ll come to see. For now, I don’t want you to even think about politics. Focus on your training with all you have,” he said, leaning forward to give her a flick on the forehead. “Don’t expect Haojie and Yijun to go easy on you either!”
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Grinning, Pia found that her appetite had returned. She finished her meal, and her tea, just as the sunlight finally finished waking, and it sent its golden rays through the window, bathing the table in warm light.
After the meal, Pia left Cangzhi and found her way to the training area. There, Haojie and Yijun waited for her, greeting her with a wave.
“Ready to try the Demon Pillars?” Haojie asked, pointing to the training apparatus she’d seen earlier that week.
“What happened to staff training?”
Haojie waved his hand dismissively.
“You’re plenty good at staff already. Yijun will teach you about the strikes later. We need to focus on turning those flappy chicken wings of yours into strong elephant trunks.”
Shaking her head, Pia struggled to hold in her laughter.
“You’ll start on the Demon Pillars,” Yijun explained, leading her towards the standing towers.
The one he led her to towered high over their heads. The north side of the tower had ropes, knotted every so many feet, hanging freely down the side. The southern side had wide-spaced poles spanning the bottom to the top. It resembled a very wide and tall ladder. The east side had planks of flat wood lining the top to the bottom, with blocks of wood nailed at oddly spaced intervals across the front. Lastly, the west side had thick, rough textured rope ladder in wide squares, dangling all the way from the top.
Taking it all in, Pia began to understand Haojie’s comment. This tower was focused on building grip and arm strength. Sighing, she turned to Yijun.
“Where do I start?”
Yijun handed her a pouch and showed her how to lash it to her belt. Inside lay finely crushed red clay dust. Pulling a handful out of his pouch Yijun rubbed his palms and gestured for her to follow his lead. Dusting her hands, Pia watched as he grabbed onto the rope ladder and began to climb.
Her eyes watched as Yijun grasped high with his hands and pulled, then reached for the next step up with his foot. The rope swayed and moved, requiring Yijun to balance as he went. Pia followed his lead.
On her tenth step up, Pia's foot slipped off the rope, sending her swaying backward. Panic surged as she gripped the rope tighter and the ladder swayed dangerously beneath her. A burst of wind yi against her back pushed her and the rope firmly against the wooden tower. Gasping, Pia caught her breath and tried to calm her shaking legs.
Looking down, Pia saw Haojie watching her carefully. His eyes, normally always crinkled in a smile, were tight and concerned. When he saw her staring, Haojie’s face smoothed, and he gave her an encouraging smile.
“That’s why I’m here!” he called.
Heart still hammering, Pia yelled back, “I thought it was to make Yijun do the hard work!” Turning back to the rope, she pulled herself up, slower and more carefully this time.
At the top, Yijun sat, legs dangling over the side, leaning back on his arms as he casually enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Pia, arms already shaking, collapsed on the wood beside him, groaning.
He shifted his weight and freed an arm to pat her on the back.
“Ready to go down?”
Groaning, Pia forced herself back upright and dug her hand back in her pouch for more clay. Yijun went first once more, and this time Pia was surprised to see how he quickly descended the ladder. Rather than relying on his feet, Yijun grasped the rope tightly with his hands, used his shoulders to hold his weight, and slid his bent knees down looking for the next rung. Moving that way, Yijun slithered rapidly down the ladder.
Mouth open Pia could only watch in amazement. When Yijun was about halfway down, Pia got started. Turning on her belly she slithered off the wood, feet searching for the ladder. Once she secured her balance, Pia descended. The knee trick wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Her shoulders throbbed and her heart skipped a beat every time her knee sought for a rung and found only air. Instinctively her legs would straighten and search for a rung. It made the descent much slower than Yijun’s.
At the bottom she sank down and rested her back against the tower. Pia took the waterskin Haojie offered her with quaking arms. The cool water soothed her dry throat, and she sighed in relief.
“Ready for the next side?” Haojie asked with a cheeky grin.
Pia groaned but followed him, her limbs feeling like weak noodles.
Haojie showed her how to stand on one log, jump and reach for the next log, pulling himself up with arms, then sliding legs over. Sit, stand, jump, pull, and then leg over, all the way to the top.
Haojie made it look effortless. Yet, by the fourth log, Pia felt as if her heart would beat out of her chest, her arms might fall off, and her legs disintegrate into ash. They continued. Haojie worked at her pace. When Pia went up a log, Haojie went up. His long legs dangled on either side of the log as Pia rested her cheek against the cool wood. When she’d managed to garner some energy, up they’d go.
At the top, Haojie gave her the waterskin once more, which she greedily drank heavily from. The sun beat down on her muscles, soothing the shakes and aches.
“We’ll take the ropes down,” Haojie told her, handing her one of the thick, knotted ropes.
“For this, you’re going to want to add a wind talisman to both palms,” Haojie said, showing her the one he’d drawn on his. It was a simple buffer, the talisman gathered the wind yi into a single point and then released it in a slow, continuous push.
Fingers trembling with strain Pia quickly drew two talismans and then held the rope. Standing on the edge of the wood, Haojie gripped the rope and leaned backwards. Toes bracing him against the tower, arms holding him upward, Haojie jumped backwards, letting the rope slide between his hands. When he reached the knot, his feet re-touched back on the tower. Shifting his grip below the knot, Haojie took another jump, once more letting the rope slide between his palms, until it reached the knot.
“Your turn!” he called up to Pia, waiting on the second knot.
Hesitating, Pia looked down at the ground, seeing Yijun, looking incredibly small, all the way at the bottom.
Seeing her worry, Haojie called again, “Don’t worry, Yijun will catch you!”
Taking in a deep breath, Pia turned her back to the open air, bent her knees and jumped backwards. As she did, she heard Haojie call up again, “Probably, at least.”
The first landing rattled her, knot slamming into her fist. Hissing, Pia carefully transferred her grip to below the knot. A steady breath, then another jump. The rope burned her hands, tearing at her skin. It stung fiercely and Pia couldn’t hold in the cry of pain. Bracing her feet against the tower, she looked at the skin of one of her palms. It was bubbling already in some spots and the skin was torn and red where it wasn’t welting.
“Forgot the wind talisman?” Haojie asked.
She nodded, grimacing.
“Do it now. Make sure you check it before each jump.”
Nodding, Pia listened. It was hard to hold herself up, draw a talisman, and then repeat the process with the other hand. Her shoulders ached from the effort, thighs protesting the repeated strain. She managed and they continued on, until they reached the bottom once more. Yijun met her with a jar of salve and a freshwater skin.
After a few moments rest, Pia asked, “Now the last one?”
Yijun and Haojie both laughed.
“Desperate for more pain?” Haojie teased.
Seeing her confused look, Yijun explained.
“The east side of the wall is the second stage of the tower. Doing it now, especially when tired, is too dangerous. When your grip gets better, then we will work on the climbing wall.”
Relief must have shown on her face because they laughed once more.
Instead, they took her for archery training, where Pia discovered that she had no talent or skill. Pia missed the target with seven out of ten arrows but kept firing, frustration mounting. Every muscle in my body will hate me tomorrow, Pia thought as she steadied her trembling bow.
They broke for a midday meal, returning to Cangzhi for dumplings and more soup. They ate quickly and returned to training. Yijun rebandaged her palms after the meal, coating them with healing salve and then covering lightly in cotton wraps.
“We’re going to swap sparring and formation training. Ruwe’s setting a formation in the courtyard. By the time we finish sparring it’ll be ready.”
Sparring turned out to be Pia landing on her back in the snow, getting the wind knocked from her lungs, and blinded by the sun. Neither Haojie nor Yijun were being unfair, both were much faster and stronger than her. Half of her moves worked against her.
Sliding her right leg back, preparing a round kick, Pia tried to distract with a sweeping palm move. Sweeping her arm in towards her chest, gathering wind yi as she rolled her wrist inward, Pia launched her arm forward, palm outward pushing the wind yi towards Haojie’s right shoulder.
It struck lightly, pushing his shoulder back, which leaned his body towards the left. Pia swung her right leg forward in a round kick—which Haojie caught with his palm, holding it high in the air. Forced to lean over or fall, Pia’s hands caught her upper body as she balanced, one leg on the ground, one caught in Haojie’s grip. Pia sighed heavily. The whole time the three sparred, Pia wondered if she'd have any skin not black or blue by tomorrow.
It was a relief when sparring ended and they moved to formation training. Ruwe’s courtyard was simple. It had an ancient tree, winter deadened, at the center of the courtyard, surrounded by a simple stone wall. Three stone benches were placed around the tree. A stone pathway split the courtyard going longways from door to door. In the grass, twelve turtle statues lined both sides of the walk, six to each side, spaced out evenly from door to door.
Yijun and Haojie had her stand inside the main room while Haojie set off the formation. Pia’s eyes were wide the whole time. She’d never seen one in person. Conch’s family always used them and he spoke often about training to run between the safe spaces. Now she understood.
“A formation is basically a secret, hidden trap that activates when intruders mistakenly set it off. See, Haojie is going to step on the path beside the second turtle. Keep your eyes on the path,” Yijun explained.
He waited until Haojie stepped on the stone to continue. As soon as Haojie’s foot touched the step, he jumped into the air, using wind to carry him to the rooftop.
Pia’s eyes stayed trained on the path, and she saw why he’d leapt away. The stone step set off a dart attack. From the second stone turtle’s mouth a heavy stone dart flew, right where Haojie had been.
“If that was an invader, they’d have likely run forward or backward. After that statue activates, all others will activate in both directions. If the intruder would land in the grass,” Yijun paused and looked to Haojie.
Haojie jumped down and raced across the grass. The grass rapidly grew, forming twisting vines covered in sharp needles. Once more, Haojie leapt up and away, free from their range.
“Amazing,” Pia said with awe, watching as the grass-turned-angry vines continued to writhe like angry snakes.
Yijun stepped over to the wall and pressed his palm against a blank spot. Pia watched as he pulsed his yi and a glowing sigil appeared. Rotating his palm, Yijun pulled his yi out and the sigil faded away.
“Walk out there now,” he said, pointing to the path.
Suspicious, Pia balked. There was no way she could run on these trembling legs. Giving him a flat stare she shook her head.
Rolling his eyes, Yijun put a hand between her shoulders and pushed. She stumbled out onto the main path, directly between the first two turtles. She froze on the spot until Haojie, laughing, once more leapt from the roof onto the path. Seeing him walk freely about, Pia relaxed. She understood. The formation could be activated or deactivated at any time.
Yijun began explaining how to spot and run between the lines of a formation, how to weave yi into the ground, and how to place talismans and arrays down and tie them to a sigil. Haojie dragged out a chessboard and instructed Pia use pieces of wood and rock from the courtyard to practice setting her own formation. It was harder than it seemed. The sunlight waned, then fell as the three leaned their heads across the chessboard. Pia’s mini formation was put to the test. Only one of her mini formations failed, but the other four simple wind attacks were a success. Pride filled her chest as Yijun and Haojie clapped her on the back.
“I am uncertain whether the teachers or the student excelled here,” Ruwe drawled from over their heads.
The three looked up at him in surprise.
“Isn’t that complimenting yourself?” Pia asked, too tired to be wary.
He cocked a brow at her. She gestured to all three of them.
“Haven’t we all been learning from you first?”
Haojie and Yijun laughed.
Ruwe nodded his head thoughtfully. Grinning he said, “Excellent point. My apprentice is wise.”
Though he was joking, Pia’s heart swelled with pride.
That evening the four ate dinner together once more. It was warm and comforting. Having spent the last few months together all day, every day, Pia had missed their constant presence. Knowing that her Master was going away for months the next day filled her with dread. Training had helped push her worries about it from her mind, but it’d lingered like an ink stain on her mind.
Her eyes flickered from Ruwe to Haojie to Yijun. Haojie talked the most, bumping his arm against Ruwe’s knee or Yijun’s shoulder, always tactile in his affections. Yijun leaned close, listening intently with a smile. Ruwe thawed around them, as much as an ice king could melt. The tension in his shoulders dissolved, the lines around his face softening, and he even smiled every now and then.
Pia etched their faces into her memory, wanting to remember this moment—their shared laughter, the warm meal, and the comfort of each other's presence. Not to mention, Pia thought as she picked up her teacup, a love for perfectly brewed tea.
Outside, the half-moon lay low in the sky, and the winter wind whipped through the trees as snow tumbled from the clouds and painted the landscape with its ice-tipped fingers.