For the next three days, white banners and ribbons hung across Cangzhi. As was customary, no training took place for those three days of mourning. Instead, all of Cangzhi fasted in quiet solitude.

Pia remained tucked away inside Lunar Haven, mostly sitting on her porch or nestling amongst the branches of the large, dead tree in the middle of her courtyard. Being in the tree brought nostalgic memories of Dwelling to her that buffered the ache she’d felt since the funeral.

On the last day of mourning, she climbed the tree with purpose. Pulling her knife from her belt, she unsheathed it, staring down at the grey-blue steel, seeing her own eyes reflected—Do I look that lost? And looked away, back at the tree. She wasn’t sure what type of tree it was, but it was clear it’d been living for hundreds of years. It was anchored deep within the ground. The yi within the tree was heavy and slow, and when Pia reached for the root of the yi, it continued ceaselessly in all directions.

It was both a giver and taker of life. The tree had fought hard for its survival amongst the buildings around it. Truly a magnificent tree. Resting her hand on the main trunk, she pressed her dagger to the tree and began to cut lines through the bark, adding a touch of fire yi to the tip of her blade to create a lasting effect. 千红. Finished, she slid her dagger into its sheath and back into her belt. The feeling of her fingers tracing over the rough, uneven texture of the carved name brought a sense of relief to Pia. It was tangible, real, present.

“Sorry,” she whispered to the tree, feeling guilty for bringing its enemy, fire, so close to its being. The freeze-dried, dead tips of the branches clacked together in the wind, sounding like chattering complaints.

Maybe no one would ever see Qian Hong’s name engraved there, but it would not fade into nothingness, and every spring, Qian Hong would be crowned in life. Leaping from the tree, Pia returned to Lunar Haven, shutting the doors behind her.

On the morning of the fourth day, she returned to her training. Nearing the end of her run, Pia saw that the white banners and ribbons were being removed. Mourning might have continued privately, but the official period was over. Life must move on.

She’d thought her stomach would ache, her body tremble, from training after a fast. Yet, an emptiness seemed to have settled over her. The joy she’d seen in the snow, the cold, the bright specks of light that the Snowbirds brought, had been replaced with a coldness that no warmth felt capable of touching.

When she returned, a simple noodle soup awaited her, but it brought her no comfort. She devoured it, hardly tasting the flavors. Placing her chopsticks across the bowl, she left as quietly as she’d come. In the corner, Noni watched her go, lips turned down in a frown of worry.

Haojie and Yijun waited for her, but their moods were no better than hers. The training was spent in almost total silence, only the occasional soft words of correction uttered. Resting at the top of Demon Pillars, Pia looked out into the grey sky, feeling nothing but that ever-creeping coldness that gripped her tightly from within.

A flash of blue from the corner of her eye turned her gaze. A fluttering of blue on the breeze, so quick it seemed a figment of her imagination. Nothing was there. Frowning, Pia grabbed the rope and rappelled from the tower.

Feelings of loss and emptiness continued that week. Haojie and Yijun tried their best to break free of its grip, but their attempts fell flat when their faces were still lined with grief. She tried her best to raise her mood by studying harder, running further, and training longer, but all it did was tire her sooner.

Entering the second week after Winter Solstice, Lei and Chasu returned to train with Pia. On the eastern side of the wall, Pia finished a quick run, making it in half the time she’d normally managed in the past. Lei and Chasu sat waiting at the top. Breathing heavily, she joined them, letting her body take a break.

The sun peered through the dreary clouds, bathing them in warmth, even as the wind tried to slice through them.

“You don’t seem yourself,” Lei said, breaking the silence.

She didn’t feel herself either.

“I find it odd,” said Chasu, and for once her tone was thoughtful, not hostile. “You seem as affected as Haojie and Yijun, but did you even know Qian Hong?”

Sighing, Pia said, “I didn’t know her. “Then she looked at the other two as a realization dawned on her. “Did you know her?”

“Only in passing. She became a disciple my first year here,” Lei told her. “It was more that everyone who knew her liked her. She was kind and talented. A favorite in Xieya.”

“I knew her a bit. She was a Veiled Crane, the same division I’m aiming for. I’d talked to her before her last mission. I never would’ve thought it’d be the last time…” Chasu said, trailing off at the end.

A thread of curiosity wormed its way through that empty feeling inside, breaking through to stir Pia into focus.

“Veiled Crane?” she asked, wondering what that was.

Chasu’s eyes went wide as she realized what she’d done. Her eyes snapped to Lei, and the two shared a worried look.

“Ah. Please don’t mention that to Haojie or Yijun,” Chasu begged. “We were instructed not to mention any of the workings of Xieya. Duke Zhi forbid anyone from interfering between you and him.”

Feeling the brief stirring of curiosity dim, Pia’s lips turned down.

“I won’t tell them…” she muttered grumpily.

The three fell quiet, but then Lei spoke up.

“The Veiled Cranes are a female-only division in Xieya that focuses on undercover missions.” When Pia and Chasu gaped at him in shock at his admission, Lei’s ears turned red. He defended himself, saying, “It isn’t like Pia’s an outsider. The way I see it, she’s got the token; she has a right to know! My brother has his rights as her Master, but I also have the right to talk with a friend!”

The final part of his defense derailed her thoughts. The Veiled Crane knowledge got tucked away for later as her mind settled on the more startling part. A friend? Pia thought. Were they friends that easily? In her estimation, Lei and Chasu were more like…fellow students? Training partners? She peered at his delicate face, the pouty lips, high cheekbones, and flawless, pale skin. Remembering his haughty, spoiled attitude, she found it hard to believe he’d changed his mind so quickly. Yet, recalling how his hand stayed wrapped around hers and how he’d been reluctant to leave her side at the funeral…A small smile touched her lips.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Since when did we become friends?” Chasu said, crossing her arms stubbornly.

Lei rolled his eyes so hard that his ponytail swayed.

“No one was talking to you. Go be friends with a rock if that’d make you happy,” he said, giving her a pointed look. It seemed to reference something only the two understood because Chasu’s cheeks flamed bright red, and she scowled fiercely at him.

Pia interjected, hoping to keep an argument from happening.

“Are we friends, Lei?”

Lei’s eyes turned back to her, and his expression suddenly reminded her of the day she’d left Dedication to find a small box of abandoned puppies outside her door. His eyes grew big and round, an earnest expression on his face. Yes, just like those wiggling, yapping puppies.

“On my part, I consider you a friend,” he said sincerely.

“Seems sudden. What made you change your mind? I thought you hated me,” Pia said honestly.

Lei didn’t get offended. Instead, his head cocked to the side, ponytail brushing his shoulder.

“I never hated you,” he cried. But his tone shifted back to sincerity as he added, “I’m not sure. I just feel that way. Does it have to have a reason?”

The slight, hopeful expression on his face thawed her suspicion. He seemed genuine, and Pia couldn’t think of any reason why he’d try to trick her. Plus, if she were honest with herself...She wanted to accept him.

“I suppose not. Friends it is,” Pia said and on impulse, scooted closer, sticking out her fist to him.

He grinned and reached out his fist, touching his knuckles to hers. The two looked at Chasu, who sat with arms still crossed and her pretty face twisted into a fierce look. It made Pia's lips twitch ever so slightly.

“I don’t want to be friends with either of you,” she hissed.

They waited, and then, looking away from them, Chasu’s fist bumped into the side of theirs.

Chasu added, “Don’t think this means I like you.” She pulled her hand away, crossing her arms defensively once more as Lei and Pia shared a long-suffering look.

As they stood to finish their training, Pia realized she felt better and more like herself. A slight ember of feeling rekindled within her that, for once, was not anger. It was a tiny glow, like a tea candle in the darkness, but it bolstered her spirit. Suddenly, the day didn’t seem so cold and dreary; the sun seemed soothing, and the wind felt playful rather than cruel. Closing her eyes, she basked in the sun’s warmth, feeling it soothe the frayed edges of her core that had felt frozen and raw for days.

Snapping open her eyes, Pia grinned and said, “Race you down the ladder?” Without waiting, she dropped from the ledge, hands reaching out for the rope, as Chasu and Lei scrambled to follow.

It grew easier after that. As if a burden had been lifted from her soul, Pia’s mood ticked upward. Haojie and Yijun were slower to rally themselves, but she found solace in her burgeoning friendship with Chasu and Lei.

One day, after a sparring session with Chasu, Pia sat on a barrel, watching Lei and Chasu spar. Her eyes followed Haojie as he explained to Chasu how to dislodge the hand that Lei had locked inside her robe.

“Slide your arm through his, yes like that, then lift your elbow and pivot,” Haojie instructed. “Good. Do it again.”

It was his lack of cheer that told her Haojie was struggling. Since she’d met him, he’d never been in a bad mood. Always quick with a grin, a joke, a prank, or a laugh. The lack of those said more than his reassurances to her. Her eyes slid to Yijun, who stood off to the side, watching stoicly.

In contrast, Yijun had always been quieter. Yet, he’d also been a solid, reassuring presence. Lately, it felt that even if he was near, he was hundreds of miles away. Distant and aloof. She thought both men were suffering from the same coldness that had invaded her. They just couldn’t find their way out yet. If it hadn’t been for the distraction Lei and Chasu offered, she might’ve fallen back into that cold, tomblike feeling.

She didn’t fully understand grief. Qian Hong’s passing was the first emotional experience with death that Pia had suffered through. It’d hit her hard despite never meeting the woman. Perhaps it’d been that people she cared deeply about were stricken with sorrow. She’d felt their loss keenly. It still bothered her. Some nights, she’d wake from her sleep, heart racing with terror, convinced she’d seen Qian Hong reaching out for her, coming for her soul. The winter wind rattling Lunar Haven often left her wide awake for a long while after. Shaking her head free of the somber thoughts, Pia focused back on the lesson, not willing to let herself fall back into a funk.

Time continued to pass, and little by little, week by week, Haojie and Yijun began to thaw. It was gradual, a small laugh from Haojie, a gentle joke from Yijun, but each was a relief. Lei and Chasu came to train every other day and slowly stayed for more of her training schedule. Rather than only working the Demon Pillars, they began to regularly join staff training, sparring, and studying.

One evening, after Chasu and Lei followed her back to Lunar Haven to study, Pia asked, “Doesn’t training with me disrupt your training with the sect?”

Shaking his head, Lei said, “No. Sect Leader Mow and Ruwe gave us permission to train with you. Sect Leader said you needed peer pressure to improve, and my brother agreed. We come on the days when apprentices normally do bookwork. Really, training with you gives us an edge over the competition.”

“Besides, it won’t be for long. Duke Zhi will be back soon,” Chasu reminded her.

Noni interrupted their studying with platters of food.

“Thanks,” Pia said to the girl, giving her a grateful smile. She was surprised to receive a tiny but genuine one in reply. She grinned broadly, and Noni’s eyes dropped, and she scuttled out of the room.

“What’s that about?” Chasu asked, leaning over her books to grab a bowl of rice.

Pia cringed to see her eating over her study books. She pushed hers aside before pulling her food to her.

“I didn’t understand some of the servant hierarchy when I arrived here, and we got off on the wrong foot. I hope one day Noni and I’ll be friends,” Pia told her.

“Friends with a servant?” Lei said, face deadpan, tone shocked. When Pia and even Chasu gave him a scandalized look, he raised his hands with a laugh. “I’m joking! I’m not like that, I swear!”’

Pointing her chopsticks rudely at Lei, Pia said dryly, “I remember you calling me a ‘that!’”

“I didn’t know you then,” Lei said, giving her a grin.

“You hardly know me now,” she reminded him.

Lei was too busy eating and didn’t reply. The three finished their meal quickly, hungry from the long training day.

“I think we know enough about each other,” Lei said after their meal. His tone was thoughtful. Elbows on the table, he cupped his chin in his palms.

“How so?” Chasu asked. She leaned an arm across her books, propping her head up.

“We know that all three of us are determined. None of us back down from a fight. We all protect each other. Even when you hated Pia, she didn’t let you fall from the Pillars,” Lei reminded Chasu, eyes distant as he remembered that day. “We don’t know much about each other, but we know each other’s qualities.”

It made sense, the way he put it. It was a different kind of friendship than Pia's with Fewl and Conch. This friendship was more of a…shared experience, bringing them closer together. Would she always be friends with these two? Her eyes looked from Chasu to Lei. Maybe not, but they’d always have the memories of these days. Lei was right. It was enough.

“I know you need to practice your staff training. If you’d had a sword today, you’d have lost a leg,” teased Pia, looking at Chasu.

She sat back, enjoying how Chasu’s voice rose defiantly, arguments spilling from her lips. The more she got to know Chasu, the more she realized that the girl was highly competitive and had a personality like a snapping turtle. It wasn’t personal, making it easier for Pia to see beyond it. Now, she had come to find that poking the turtle’s shell could be fun.

The rest of the month passed like a breeze, and suddenly, the Lunar New Year was upon them.