The next morning came in a flurry of motion and color. Bags and suitcases appeared from out of storage. Outfits and shoes and clothes and toiletries and books and accessories and even more clothes were taken out and examined and passed around before they were packed.
In the middle of all the chaos, Mother had come to me and explained that she would be taking my cousin and I to see her family in China. "It's beautiful, A' Zhong," she told me, wistfully. "There's a village at the base of the mountains and clear running streams that run through the trees. The mornings carry a mist that settles over everything and makes the world look like a water painting brushed out by the gods themselves." I smiled at her, but inwardly, my mind was running a thousand miles a moment.
I wondered to myself if I should come up with an explanation for… why I am the way I am. Glimpses of a past life? Maybe. Perhaps I should wait and see what they come up with on their own. I have nothing to fear from my own family, I don't think. It's not like I've done anything bad. I've not even done anything of my own choice! It's not like I asked to be reborn, or did anything to be sent into this new, unfamiliar world.
My mind flits unbidden to Tristan, and I forcefully derail that train of thought.
Roger isn't coming with us, due to his aversion to flight, but he plies us with help and hugs and kisses in preparation for our journey. He's… mostly unhelpful, actually, popping up here and there holding out tiny outfits for me in front of my mother, asking her opinion, and wilting when she turns up her nose at half of them. Sailor uniform? Really, Father? A tiny bathrobe? Why?
Even Grandfather was lingering, making conversation but not really helping either. Clark is there, too; he's tearful, a bit resentful that school prevents him from joining us. He forlornly shook a teddy bear at me, lip pouting out. "Bring me back souvenirs, Huizhong," he told me. "I want a sword. Or some kung fu outfit. Or a jade statue. Or-"
"There aren't going to be any souvenir shops on the mountain, Clark," Mother laughed. "It's a mountain sect, not a tourist attraction. As far as I'm aware, only family and family members are allowed inside the walls."
"I'm family!" Clark protested. "Why can't I go? Samsam is going!"
"Samsam," Lorraine interrupted, gently pushing him to the side so she can place a sun hat on my head to see if it fits. "is a baby. And you have school young man. If you really want to come, you should talk to your parents about it. But, as far as they've told me, they don't want you skipping."
Clark continued to be unhelpful and just generally in the way, though Grandfather does somewhat appease him with the promise to go somewhere else on a summer family trip once he's out of school. Even still, Clark lingered around us until it was time for us to leave, tearfully waving us out the door.
The actual flight was uneventful, aside from Samsam screaming bloody murder in response to feeling his ears pop during the altitude change. Luckily, Grandfather ensured that we would be flying comfortably in a rented plane, so there weren't any other passengers to bother. I still felt sorry for the poor flight attendants, though. Being in a closed area with a screaming baby is no one's idea of a good time.
When we landed, it was cold. The air was dry and crisp. From in the air, through the plane windows, I could see that we were in a relatively small city. Despite there being an airport, albeit a tiny one with only two other planes in view, there were no tall buildings, no skyscrapers, and very little vehicular traffic. It was on the water of a lake, and the streets wound in curving patterns alongside and stretching out from it. There were people everywhere, milling about, determinedly going about their business. Mother didn't bother renting a car or hailing a cab or anything like that – indeed, the fact that she didn't even consider it made me wonder if there was anything like that here.
If it weren't for the fact that the people around us were mostly wearing modern, westernized clothing, it would have felt as though we stepped straight through time into a xianxia novel. The architecture was beautiful, mostly wooden, though I could spy some buildings that appeared to be entirely made from stone. The taller buildings, only three or four stories high, had sloping, curved roofs that I associated with fantasy or historical donghua. And everywhere I looked, I saw vibrant green interspersed throughout the city. If it would even be called a city, looking at the size - at least what I could see of it - I wasn't sure.
We walked for what seemed like hours. Well, the women walked. Samsam and I were carried. Samsam was strapped in a sling like cloth tied to Raisya's back. My own mother carried me on her strong shoulders, giving me a good view of the world around me. We crossed over small foot bridges and passed market stalls. We walked through crowded streets, and then emptier streets, and then into a path that wound through a densely wooded area.
The path was thin, covered in rocks. It was obviously worn by time and feet. The women talked only sparingly. The peace of the early morning air seemed to settle on our heads and wind around our skin. The air was clean and refreshing. If I strained my ears, I could hear what sounded like running water in the distance.
It was on a morning like this that my mother led us up a mountain trail.
♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡
It was hours before we saw any signs of civilization again. It started with the footpath being lined with ancient wooden planks, and then slowly becoming paved with stone. Mossy walls rose up around us. Shadows were cast by them and the statues that guarded them. These statures peered out of carved cavities in the wall, little figures of men and women in robes made of or covered in gold. Buildings lined the walls, and more roofs – colorful roofs of black, gold, and red – could be seen beyond them. I could hear sounds of chanting, loud repetitive voices echoing against the walls. My mind conjured up images of the brief period in time, in my previous life, during which I was enrolled in an Americanized martial arts class, and the teachers had us all line up and repeat various flavors of "Hoo!" and "Hah!" and "Hiyah!" as we kicked and punched out patterns into the air.
What was going on here was probably more refined.
There was a gate with lion statues out in front, standing on either side of the entrance. The looked as fantastical as they were intimidating. Even more intimidating was the man that stood there to greet us. He stood with perfect posture, in the type of robes that my 3am web dives of insomnia interest told me weren't actually historically accurate but were popular in fantasy anyway; it was easily distinguishable as the flowing, embroidered white silk of xianxia. The man had a smooth face with elegant lines, and straight long black hair that flowed down to the small of his back. On his face was an equally long, grey beard. In his hand was a masterfully crafted silk fan with a tassel swaying gently to the nonexistent breeze that also caught his hair and beard, a colorful painted flower I didn't recognize on the folds.
Though, to be perfectly honest, the beard looked out of place on his otherwise youthful visage. He bowed shallowly to us. My mother – now taking me off of her shoulders – bowed back even more deeply. My Aunties followed suit.
"Greeting Li Naling and her sisters," he said, snapping the fan shut, away from his face, and storing it in one of his deep sleeves. I couldn't help but smile at him. This dude sounded exactly like the ancient immortal masters from the trashy donghua I liked to watch in my previous life. He was so… so elegant and had such a sharp attitude of I'm above all of this. "This master is called Li Bingwen, however," and here he looked me in the eye, and smiled back. It was a small, reserved smile, but a smile, nevertheless. "these little ones may call me Grandfather."
"Are you really Li Na's Grandpa?" Lorraine asked, bewildered, looking at his ageless face. Though I thought a glimpse of amusement in his eyes, his face betrayed no such emotion, as smooth as an undisturbed pond and as firm as white jade.
"Indeed," he nodded his head gracefully. "This one is, in fact, Li Naling's great grandfather on her father's side."
"Huh," Lorraine said, surprised. "Asians really do age differently, don't they?" Raisya not-so-subtly elbowed her wife in the side, prompting her to say nothing else. Li Bingwen didn't seem upset by her outburst, he only continued to exude the patience and timelessness of a peerless immortal master. Fingers crossed that Gramps here is, in fact, an ancient immortal master. That would be awesome.
Gramps took a few steps forward in my direction where I was standing somewhat sheltered behind the shield of my mother's legs. "Welcome, to Laomen Sect," he told me gravely, as my mother lightly pushed me forward. I didn't know whether to bow or not, so I only shyly waved at him. Thankfully, he didn't seem annoyed or upset at my lack of manners, and he only chuckled. "Come," he told us, his fan spreading back open to cover the lower half of his face, turning with the expectation that we would follow. "This way."
He led us into the sect. All around us was life as it would have played out hundreds of years ago. People all wore robes of brown, orange, or white. Some had shaved heads, some had long flowing hair like Gramps. I saw a row of disciples kneeling at low tables, with beautifully carved sides displaying flowers and cranes and leaves, where they played Go or Mahjong while others spectated quietly. I saw people in what seemed to be a class, all in the same position, standing upright and poised as though frozen in the moment while a person walked among them with a large stick that I imagined was for beating anybody who broke the pose. In the distance, I could hear the sounds of the guqin, of the pipa. I even saw a few disciples bearing fancy looking swords walking towards the other side of the sect. I hoped above all hopes that, before we left, we could watch a sword fight.
He paused beneath an enormous tree, the roots flowing over the stone paved ground like water and the boughs spread sturdily overhead like the top of a tent, where a disciple in white robes was painting. As we approached, the disciple rose to his feet and bowed, staying there until Gramps nodded at him. He then looked at my Aunties and smiled.
"Greeting Li Naling-shimei's sisters," he bowed again, this time briefly. "This one's name is Chao Hanru."
"My disciple shall show you two ladies around our humble peak," he said, gesturing with his fan. He turned to the Aunties. "Forgive this old master. There is much for Li Naling and this master to discuss that I am sure would bore you and the little one," he looked at Samsam who did, in fact, look like he was very much done with everyone, and was moments away from kicking up a fuss. "Chao Hanru, show them the art gallery, perhaps the library as well – though only the sections open to outer disciples."
The young man saluted Gramps and then cheerfully gestured to my aunts the direction that he wanted them to go. As they left, I could hear Aunt Lorraine dubiously ask the disciple, "So how old is he, really? I mean, he can't be old enough to be a grandpa, let alone a great grandpa."
"Rainy! Really!?"
Samsam, from over Raisya's shoulder, was still staring at me. I waved him goodbye and good luck. Gramps turned back to Mother and I. "Let us go this way, Ling'er."
We walked in silence into a building that I had to assume was a temple. The exterior was carved stone, but as soon as we entered, I was bombarded by vibrant reds and golds and blues. There were pillars artfully carved and painted with geometric and swirling designs. There were rows of golden statues of people in robes, some standing and some seated, lining the walls just like there had been along the path, but larger and more elaborate with incense and flowers placed before each one. An elaborate shrine altar stood at the far end from the entrance that was just behind an enormous censer. Looking up, I saw that even the ceiling was decorated. It made me dizzy, staring straight up at it. I could see dragons and phoenixes. I could see flowers and spirals. As I continued to stare at it, perhaps it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but the patterns almost seemed to move.
My mother held me a bit tighter, and my attention was brought back down to the conversation at hand. She looked stressed, I noticed, and I wasn't sure why. "Here, Ling'er." Gramps placed a gentle hand on her arm that was carrying me. "You needn't be frightened, child."
"You said there was possibility of possession?" she prompted. "I have seen no such signs, and I've been watching him carefully lately. He only seems advanced for his age, and not much so." To be honest, I felt a little offended by that last part. I was very advanced for a baby – toddler – thank you very much.
Gramps was silent for a moment, looking me over. I felt… uncomfortably seen. It was as though he were looking through my eyes and knew, somehow, that I wasn't who I was pretending to be. For a brief, hysterical second, I wondered if he knew what a piece of shit person I was in my past life. If he could sense the stain on my very soul that I had put there when I all but pushed –
"Perhaps an artifact talisman will reveal more to us," Gramps said after a moment. He'd been so quiet and spoke so suddenly that it startled me a bit. "Or even something as simple as a qi evaluation. Perhaps the state of his meridians will enlighten this one."
My mother nodded, gravely. She set me down between them. "A' Zhong. Be a good boy. Sit down for me."
I sat in the lotus position almost instinctively. My mother seemed to think nothing of this, but Li Bingwen frowned and hummed. With spryness and grace that would make Aunt Lorraine once again doubt his age, he took up the same position across from me.
"Li Huizhong," he addressed me. "I want you to breathe very deeply and hold very still." With that, he raised two fingers to place on my forehead. For a moment, it was awkward. I felt as though I should be doing something, but no one had bothered to read me the script or prompt me my lines. It was a long moment, where my mother stood behind Gramps with a worried look on her face, and Gramps sat with his eyes burning into mine. Then, I felt something deep inside me… stir.
"He has strong and open spirit veins," Gramps declared. My mother stiffened.
"Open?" Gramps, not looking away from me, narrowed his eyes.
"You have not been training with him?"
Mother shook her head, wringing her hands for a moment. Then she seemed to notice the motion and stopped, dropping her hands stiffly to her sides. "Training, no. Though I have been giving him food and gifts to circulate qi and stimulate his meridians."
Gifts? This was news to me. My mind turned over the things that my mother had been placing around my room, but nothing came to mind. I mentally shrugged and shelved the thought to deal with later. "I always hoped," my mother continued. "But, owing to my own short comings…"
"Though you may not be able to cultivate to a Core Formation level in this life," Li Bingwen told her, not unkindly, now letting his hand fall away from my face, "the steps you make in this life with carry over to the next." Mother bowed her head in acknowledgement. "As for this little one," he said. "I do not sense any seal or marking on his soul. If he is a disciple or master reborn, his sect did not take any precautions."
Li Bingwen closed his eyes for a moment – then that moment stretched into several minutes. I looked up at my mother, but she wasn't looking at me. She was looking behind Gramps at the altar and the statues beyond it. She closed her eyes as well, and if I didn't know better, I would have thought she was praying. But, in all the time I'd been with her, I'd never seen her pray before. So, I doubted that was what she was doing now.
Breaking the silence, Gramps breathed in sharply and opened his eyes. Turning to my mother, he told her. "Give me a moment alone with the child, Ling'er. Wait outside." My mother, for a moment, looked like she wanted to protest. But, in the end, she only bowed and left.
Li Bingwen looked at me, sternly. His fan was raised again, so I could only see his eyes. His eyes, which were a deep pool of amber so bright it was nearly gold. I stared, transfixed and held into place, like a pinned butterfly. "And what do you have to say for yourself, child." I froze, and probably made myself look extremely guilty.
This was it, the moment of truth. What should I do? Should I be honest? Should I make something up, pretend to have been an ancient cultivator from long ago. Even while I considered this, my mind was still reeling. It was true, it was all true. Maybe this was "Magical Miracle," maybe this was "Immortal Miracle," or maybe it wasn't. But, despite everything, this was, in fact, xianxia. Or wuxia. It's hard to tell at the moment.
Perhaps I hesitated too long, but Li Bingwen leaned back, studying me. He hummed, and might have been about to say something, but I beat him to it, blurting out my response before I could reconsider what a bad idea it was. "This one does not answer to you, old man."
He blinked in surprise at me.
Once a troll, always a troll. Not really knowing where my tongue was leading me, I simply rolled with it, still nearly hysterical with panic and uncertainty. Perhaps if I had been calmer, I would have not done it, but the Zoomer in me could only say "If you know not who I am, then this one shall not tell you. You, who are barely immortal." Li Bingwen recoiled as if struck. He then produced – perhaps from a qiankun item, I hope from a qiankun item. That would be cool – a talisman that he threw at me. It stuck to my head with an almost wet sounding thwap!
I laughed. I laughed long and hard. I couldn't help it. I laughed until I was almost falling over, glancing every now and then at my grandfather who was staring at me with an open mouth, fan fallen forgotten, drifting from his face. Then, I swallowed my mirth and looked him in the eye. "Dare you attempt to bind me through human means? Pitiful." Almost in time with what I was saying, the talisman slipped from my face and fluttered to the ground. It would have been really cool if it had, somehow, burst into flames or been struck by lightning. Yeah, that would have been awesome. Unfortunately, nothing that dramatic happened. The talisman just fluttered to the floor and lay still, unmoving. We both looked at it. Me in disappointment and him in alarm.
"Release the child, demon," he commanded. He leapt back, away from me. In the air, he drew a qi formation – mentally I jumped for joy, more proof that this was, in fact, xianxia. It was a formation that I didn't recognize, but from it, I felt energy ripple through me.
It didn't do anything.
Despite this, I groaned and clutched at my sternum where I assumed a core would be. Probably. I gave a full body shudder, then went limp, closing my eyes, sprawled out on the floor. If I had been any more dramatic, I would have lolled my tongue out of the side of my mouth, but I didn't because that might have been what gave me away.
I felt more than heard Li Bingwen approach me. I "weakly" opened my eyes. "Gramps?" I asked, feigning confusion. "Where is Mother?" The old master knelt before me, placing a hand on my head. Once again, I felt that stirring deep inside me. He was- he was manipulating my qi, wasn't he!
"She waits for us outside, young one," he told me, his voice grave. "Tell this master the truth, do you hear things that others do not?"
I blinked innocently at him. Genius toddler, genius toddler, I repeated to myself. "Like what?"
"Voices. Whispers. Music. Ringing."
I shook my head.
"Does A'Zhong have frightening dreams, where someone speaks to you?"
I looked at him with wide eyes, gasping. "How did you know? Does he talk to you, too?"
Li Bingwen looked at me with narrowed eyes. "This master has seen and lived much. The signs are all too obvious when one knows where to look. Tell me, child, what is their name?"
I smiled, widely. "He said I could give him a name. So, I named him Spike."
Li Bingwen's face was like carved jade, but looking him directly in the eyes, he seemed… slightly defeated. "You" he paused for a long moment. "named him Spike." Gramps turned away, chin in his hand. He looked back to me. "How old are you, Li Huizhong?"
"I'm two and a half!"
"And how long have you been dreaming of… Spike?"
"Forever! He's my bestest friend!"
"I see."
♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡
Another disciple in traditional xianxia garb, this time in orange robes, came to watch me while Gramps talked with Mother.
I'm not sure what he told her, but when Mother came back and took me into her arms once again, she was making the same face that she usually made when she was trying not to laugh at Grandmama's expense. I looked at her, then looked at Gramps to make sure he was facing in the opposite direction as he was leading us to wherever it was we were going.
I gave Mother a big, slow, obvious wink.
She winked back.