On her morning run, Pia felt a charged energy in the air that seemed to settle across Cangzhi like a wide net. The sun was out, and the winter breeze raged on, nothing had changed. Yet, her skin buzzed and tingled leaving her feel edgy and unsettled.

As she passed the main gate, Pia noticed men unravelling white banners across the gate. Further down the path she saw white ribbons had been hung from the trees and many of the homes that lined the path. Uneasiness filled her. It was likely in preparation for Winter Solstice the next day. Yijun had explained that remembering and honoring the dead was a large part of the traditional celebrations in Chean. Still, the sight of so many burial decorations left Pia feeling twice as anxious on her return to Cangzhi Manor.

Pia entered Lunar Haven to find Haojie waiting for her. Sitting on the wooden porch outside her door, he gave her a half wave as she walked to him. Normally she took her morning meals alone, so seeing him waiting for her was peculiar. The steady worry she’d been building sent tight pains through her stomach.

“Good morning,” she said, taking a seat beside him on the stairs.

When he didn’t reply right away Pia took another look at him. Close up, she was surprised to see he looked tired, face pale and drawn. On top of that, his quiet and subdued demeanor was totally uncharacteristic of his normal behavior.

She sat beside him, curling her knees up to her chest, and hugging them worriedly. She rocked forward onto the balls of her feet to try and meet Haojie’s downturned gaze. Seeing her head pop into view, Haojie’s mouth twitched, trying for half a smile.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, voice tinged with worry.

Shifting in his seat to rest more firmly against the railing, Haojie turned his head and met her gaze. His handsome, boyish face was serious as his eyes roved her features, seemingly searching for something. A heaviness hung around him, settling on his shoulders, weighing them down.

Haojie shook his head, saying, “I didn’t sleep well.”

It was clearly a lie, but Pia didn’t press him on it. Hugging her knees tighter, Pia fought her anxiety down. Surely he was just having a bad day?

“Where’s Yijun?” she asked.

“He’s busy today. You’re lucky enough to have my sole attention today,” said Haojie, attempting his normal cheer, but it fell flat.

The following awkward silence that fell between them lingered for a long while. Unnerved, Pia attempted to break the growing tension in the air.

“Are you hungry?” asked Pia. “I was just about to eat my meal. Join me?”

He nodded and the two stood and entered the main room. Noni, seeing Haojie, hurried out of the room, down the path out of Lunar Haven.

“She’ll bring an extra serving soon,” Pia told him, pouring them both some tea. Her stomach rumbled, but in her unease and anxiety Pia felt she could hardly stomach any, and refrained from eating until Noni returned with a tray of food for Haojie.

The meal was white fish, fermented veggies, and a bowl of rice soup. She picked at it slowly. It was a light meal, but every bite lay heavy on her stressed stomach. When they finished and Noni cleared their dishes, Haojie sighed, and leaned his elbow on the table, dropping his head onto his fist.

Fiddling with her sect token nervously, Pia watched as Haojie’s eyes fluttered, then closed. Unwilling to break the silence she leaned back on her palms, watching as he fell asleep.

Was she not supposed to train today? What was going on? It seemed clear that something was wrong, but what?

Pia’s eyes wandered to her study books and then back to Haojie. Seeing his unnaturally pale face, she pulled her books to her and began to read, letting the man sleep. Pia studied while he slept, only pausing once to place a blanket around Haojie and pull the fire brazier close to him.

Worry continued to harass her as she finished her first book and moved onto the second and still, he slept. In the months Pia had known Haojie, she knew well that he wasn’t one to slack off. Her eyes flickered back to him and in his sleep, Haojie’s brow was tense and furrowed, his eyes moving beneath his lids.

Sighing, Pia put down her brush and went to add more wood to the fire. She couldn’t do much, but she could keep him comfortable while he slept. Noni came at midday, carrying food for them, and Pia put her finger to her lips gesturing to the sleeping man.

Nodding, Noni left the trays and silently left. The smell turned Pia’s stomach. Biting her lip she hesitated on waking Haojie. On one hand, he looked like he needed the rest, but on the other…the day was passing by quickly.

Leaning over the table, Pia gently shook Haojie’s shoulder. At once he leapt awake, hand snaking out to catch her wrist in a tight grip. Panic suffused his face, and his bleary eyes scanned her and the room before releasing his grip.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s fine. I studied while you slept. Noni just brought us some food.”

Haojie stood, sighing as he stretched his back and neck.

“I’m not very hungry,” he admitted.

“Me either,” agreed Pia, pushing her platter away.

The two remained silent as Haojie stretched his muscles and the steaming food slowly cooled.

“So, no training today?” she asked tentatively.

He gave her no answer for a long while. Instead, he poured himself a cup of tea, and went to sit in her doorway, staring far off into the clouds. Noni returned and cleared their dishes, frowning at the untouched food. She said nothing and left as quietly as she’d come.

Pia placed her books back on the table then rose and joined Haojie in the doorway. Curled up against the doorway, Pia stared at Haojie’s profile. Bathed in the deep golden hues of the midday sun, Haojie appeared extra haggard—deep stress lines visible on normally clear skin. Something was clearly amiss, yet Pia knew he wouldn’t tell her if she asked again. The lack of chatter from the man was deeply unsettling.

“No training today,” he finally said, curling the teacup in his palm and then holding it up in the light to inspect the design. “Just continue studying. I’ve got to go for a bit, I’ll come and get you just before evening meal.”

With a sigh, Haojie stood, placed the teacup on her table, gently patted Pia’s head and left. The breeze trailing in the doorway left Pia cold and forlorn, feeling more alone and lost than she’d felt in a long time.

To distract herself, Pia threw herself back into her studies, but the lines blurred before her eyes. Multiple times she had to re-read and then read once more to get even a single sentence to register. Worry burrowed into her belly like hot knives, slicing away at her with every passing moment. Her eyes burned and her hand cramped but studying kept Pia focused, leaving her no time to dwell on her thoughts.

Finally, just as the servants began to hang lit lanterns outside Lunar Haven, Haojie returned. Pia eagerly put down her brush, rolling her wrist to alleviate the strain.

“Ready?” he asked, standing just outside her doorway.

Whatever he’d been doing had not improved his mood. Rather, he seemed even more subdued, lips drawn downward into a frown.

Feeling a sense of dread, Pia rose, grabbed her thick outer coat, and followed Haojie out the door. Normally she’d pepper him with questions, but today…She felt on the wrong foot around him. He was pensive and distracted and eerily quiet. Rubbing her arms, Pia followed him meekly out of Changshu Manor and down the main path.

That same energy she’d felt all day pulsed in the air. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her skin break out in gooseflesh. A wind stirred the many white banners and ribbons, and they trailed like ghost fingers in the breeze.

They walked toward the training area, turning right at the last moment, heading toward a small housing complex, where trees formed a natural barrier around the house’s stone wall. It was on the smaller side compared to other courtyard houses in Cangzhi. It had two simple wooden main doors and overhead a plain, brown plaque read, “Solemnity.” Haojie entered, immediately turning to the right side.

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Curious, Pia’s eyes wandered the walls of the house. Solemnity had the same excellent craftsmanship as the other buildings in Cangzhi, yet it was stark with very few decorations. On the pillars and eaves, only white ribbons and banners dangled like specters on the walls. Haojie led her into a long, narrow enclosed room. The walls were plain wood, but lined on all four sides with wooden plaques, shaped like traditional shaman talismans. They were all black, with red and gold paints used to color each etched name.

A lump formed in Pia’s throat and her fingers curled tightly around her token tassel. Suddenly, Haojie’s mood made perfect sense. This was a memorial chamber and those were spirit tablets. That same eerie energy she’d felt all day seemed alive here. It prickled at her skin, hanging heavy in the air. It felt like a million souls crammed together in the air, sparking wildly and demanding attention.

Her eyes flitted to Haojie who had continued to the back wall to kneel before the tablets. All around the back wall, hundreds of candles were lit. A large stone bowl sat proudly, holding tall joss sticks, and on the ground paper money and jugs of Solji were stacked. Crossing the room, Pia knelt beside Haojie, staring up at the names.

“Long Wu—Valorous, Xin Sheng—Victorious, Tie Yu—Unyielding, Rong Hua—Glorious, Mu Jian—Protector, Zhen Yan—Virtuous…” Pia read some of the names silently feeling overwhelmed as they just continued on and on, wall to wall.

Directly in the center of the back wall, surrounded by white orchids, a freshly carved tablet sat propped against a wooden box. It caught her eyes, gleaming fresh and bright amidst the older, time-dulled plaques.

“Qian Hong—Red Blossom,” she whispered.

At her words, Haojie’s hands, curled atop his thighs, tightened into fists. Stiffly, he bowed down before the wall, hands cupped together and extended past his head. A traditional, solemn bow of deep respect. Pia followed his example, bowing low. Haojie sat up and then bowed twice more. Tangible grief almost seemed to flow from him, thick and oily like tar across water.

Picking up a jug of Solji, Haojie pulled the cork free, tossing it aside. Pia watched as he raised the jug in respect and then tipped the jug on its side and spilled a long line of alcohol across the floor. Placing the jug down, Haojie picked up three joss sticks, lighting them on a nearby candle. He bowed three more times, holding the incense above his head, and then placed them in the large bowl.

Smoke trailed heady and thick, filling the room with a deep earthy scent. Seeing Haojie’s face twisted in a harsh expression, eyes locked on Qian Hong’s plaque, Pia picked up some of the paper money and lit it on fire, letting it fall to the floor and burn.

Grief welled in Pia as she watched the paper burn. Once it was ash, she returned her gaze to the walls, looking over the seemingly endless names. So many people. Were these all those lost souls from Xieya? She peeked at Haojie’s anguished face and refrained from asking.

Death had happened in Dwelling—typically the elderly passing in their sleep or from illness, though there were occasional accidental deaths. Yet, she’d never experienced the loss of a friend or loved one personally. Even the loss of her parents had been before she’d been old enough to understand. Did Haojie know Qian Hong? Was she a lover? A friend? A sister? Pia knew nothing about Haojie’s personal life, and it wasn’t the time to ask. All she could do was wonder.

Haojie and Pia took turns burning paper money until the joss sticks burned fully, leaving only the memory of their scent lingering in the air. They bowed once more, and then Haojie led Pia out of the room. In the doorway, Pia couldn’t help but pause and look back. All those spirit tablets seemed to tug at her heart. From the very faded to the freshly painted, Pia’s eyes took them all in. Leaving them alone felt wrong.

Looking back, she saw Haojie pause and wait, a look of understanding on his face. Pia gave the room one last low bow and then closed the door behind her, hurrying to Haojie’s side.

Once more she followed him down the hall, back to the main entrance, and through the left side door. Inside, Pia found it packed with people sitting around low tables, all wearing the deep blue robes of the Xieya sect. Her back stiffened with shock at all the new faces she saw. Immediately she pressed closer to Haojie, feeling shy and out of place, even despite the setting.

A few greeted Haojie with soft words or a gentle head nod. He returned the gestures as he went on his way towards the small, plain doorway at the back of the room. To Pia, it seemed to be a private sitting room. There was no door or partition cutting it off from the main room, but the smaller space gave a sense of privacy.

Yijun waited for them at the sole table, sitting rigid and straight with one hand loosely settled on the tabletop. On their arrival his head turned to view them. He looked as exhausted and sorrowful as Haojie. Pia’s heart clenched to see his eyes, normally so warm and kind, darkened with pain.

Afraid to speak, Pia took a seat at the corner of the table, folding her hands in her lap. Haojie sat across from Yijun and poured the tea. Pia took the cup he offered her but held it awkwardly before her. There was no heat to the drink, clearly the tea had sat for a while.

It was clear to her that Qian Hong’s soul had recently passed from this realm. How had it happened? She couldn’t help but wonder. How was she connected to Haojie and Yijun? The thoughts swirled endlessly through her, but she kept each contained. It was not the time or place to bring them up, even if she longed to ask.

Finally, Haojie let out a heavy sigh, and spoke. “On Winter Solstice, we honor our lost as one of our traditions. Unfortunately, we lost one of our own suddenly…” his voice cut off in a choke.

Pia wrapped her arms around her middle, uncertain of what to say.

“Was it…Qian Hong?” she said softly, recalling the name on that new spirit table.

“Yes,” Yijun said, voice clipped tight. “We received her body late yesterday evening…It was unexpected.”

The way he said that first word—short and precise was like an arrow to her gut. The pain in their voices squeezed her heart. Biting her lip Pia wondered if she should speak.

“Who was she?” she asked tentatively.

For a moment, neither replied, seemingly lost in thought.

Then, Yijun said, “A much beloved young disciple.”

It didn’t tell Pia much, but the emotions the men felt were evident. Her mind went over the information she’d received. Winter Solstice was the following day. Haojie reminded her of it earlier in the week. So, why were they shifting the traditions to the day before?

Pia asked, “Isn’t Winter Solstice tomorrow?”

Nodding, Yijun finally lifted his gaze to her.

“Yes. We moved the traditions to today. We will mourn our loss and commemorate the dead together. Tomorrow we will conduct the funeral ritual for Qian Hong, and then the next three days all Cangzhi will hold to a mourning fast.”

Understanding dawned on Pia. If they had waited to celebrate Winter Solstice, Qian Hong’s funeral would be postponed. It would be easier to push the traditions ahead an evening, combining the memorial with funeral honors.

As if summoned by his words, servants began to pour in, carrying platters of food. They worked quickly and efficiently and in just a few minutes, every table had bowls of congee and large platters of dumplings.

The servants left only to return carrying thick jugs of liquid that steamed profusely as they hit the cool air. The smells wafting through the air were hot and tangy, aromatic and rich.

Once all were served the sound of clattering chopsticks filled the air.

Yijun and Haojie began to serve Pia, not allowing her to help.

“The duty of the disciples is to nurture our protegees. On Winter Solstice, the disciples serve the apprentices,” explained Yijun, passing her a bowl of congee.

Haojie poured a bowl of that unfamiliar drink and the smell piqued Pia’s curiosity. It had a rich and spicy scent, like cinnamon and ginger. The drink came out white and frothy, with little bits of dried fruit bobbing to the top.

“This is Cloud Silk. It’s a popular drink in Chean, though we’ve adapted it a bit here in Xieya,” Haojie explained, passing her the bowl.

Pia took it, raising it to her nose. It smelled decadent. Sipping it, her brows rose. The creaminess of the milk tempered the blend of tangy and sweet, turning it into a smooth, comforting drink. As she swallowed it seemed to leave a lingering warmth that spread from the tips of her fingers to her toes.

“Best be careful with how much you drink, though,” Yijun warned. “Our Cloud Silk is mixed with Solji.”

That explained the lingering warmth. She’d never tried alcohol but found the sensation pleasing. Putting the bowl down, Pia picked up her chopsticks. The dumplings and congee both looked delicious, but it’d been a while since she had dumplings.

Picking one up, she eagerly bit into it—and coughed. They were incredibly spicy! Genuine, small smiles broke across the men’s faces, easing their grief lines just a bit.

“It’s customary in Chean to eat spicy foods during Winter Solstice. It’s to counter the cold, but also to vividly remind ourselves we are alive!”

After his words, Yiju lifted his cup in a toast, and Haojie, then Pia quickly followed suit.

“To the souls who have passed this realm,” Yijun said.

Haojie replied, “And to those who walk on, carrying the memories.”

All three took a long draft of their cups, and then returned to the food. It took a few dumplings for Pia’s mouth to become numb enough to enjoy them. The spice was burning hot. When she took a spoonful of congee, she found it to be equally spicy, though it was balanced with a hint of sweetness.

In the main room, Pia saw the others talking amongst themselves, voices a gentle murmur in the background. She wondered what they were talking about. Did they tell stories about those they lost? Discuss the food they ate? Or perhaps made idle chit-chat about various topics?

Thinking back to the memorial chamber as she twirled her spoon in her congee, Pia thought about how to word a question she’d been thinking over.

“The spirit tablets…Are they all souls who have served the Xieya Sect?” asked Pia finally.

“Yes. Since the Xieya Sect was first established it has been tradition. Any disciple, apprentice, leader, and even the occasional long-time friend, has a spirit tablet made in honor of their sacrifice,” Yijun said.

Thinking that over, Pia frowned.

“Sacrifice? Were they all killed in the line of duty?” she asked, feeling as though her wording might not be correct.

Haojie shook his head, finishing chewing his dumpling, and said, “Not quite. It’s to memorialize them after they pass from this realm—no matter when or how.”

Some of Pia’s anxiety faded away at that knowledge. Seeing so many tablets…She’d wondered about the nature of the Xieya Sect. Worried about what kind of sect might sacrifice so many of its people…It was a relief to know that it honored all sacrifice, not just the ultimate.

Then, her eyes slid back to the main room, and she frowned.

“Does Mow, as the Sect Leader, not participate in the memorial?”

“Sect Leader Mow is keeping vigil over Qian Hong’s body. He will stay by her side until the funeral commences,” Yijun said, and his voice sounded solemn once more.

Pia let out a sigh, feeling guilty about bringing the mood down once more. She picked up her bowl of Cloud Silk and took a long sip. The rest of their meal progressed in relative silence as the three fell into thought, only speaking lightly as they ate.