Chapter 13 - Returning Home

In a small room on the second story of a bakery, the soft sounds of a zither blended with the smell of fresh baked bread to create a comfortable atmosphere. Lying on a simple bed, Ao Wen's breathing became erratic, her face twisting into a variety of intense expressions. It wasn't the first time this had happened since Feng Xi began watching over Ao Wen, but this time seemed far more intense than the others.

It had already been nine days since the Ceremony of Awakening. At first, the elders of the Holy Light Abode had wanted to keep watch over her personally. Elder Dong Yu had seemed particularly invested in helping Ao Wen recover, even investing some of her personal collection of spirit medicines in an attempt to rouse Ao Wen. Then, as one day turned into two and two into four, the elders of the Holy Light Abode had given up, concluding that Ao Wen had burned her soul away with her forceful Awakening. Her body, according to them, had become an empty husk. Still alive, but without a soul to unify her mind, body and heart.

Feng Xi brought Ao Wen home. No matter what the elders said, she didn't believe that the woman she intended to swear sisterhood with could fail in her Awakening. She had spent each day since bringing her home watching Ao Wen. Feeling almost helpless, she played a soothing melody on her zither, hoping the sound would reach Ao Wen and help guide her back.

As someone who followed the Path of the Artist, Feng Xi knew more than many about connecting to another person's heart. When she played, she could feel a strong connection between her heart and Ao Wen's. At the Holy Light Abode, the elders had noticed the occasional winces of pain on Ao Wen's face. They had said it indicated that her current state was likely very painful and they'd quietly suggested that Feng Xi encourage Ao Wen's parents to find a humane way to end her suffering.

Feng Xi, however, watched Ao Wen far more closely than the people of the Holy Light Abode. She had seen the occasional smiles flicker across Ao Wen's face. Moreover, she had seen several flickers of an expression she could only describe as triumphant. If she had to describe it as anything, she would describe it as someone fighting for something that truly mattered. At times, it looked painful, but whatever Ao Wen was fighting, she was winning, Feng Xi was sure of it. As long as Ao Wen possessed the spirit to fight, Feng Xi would accompany her with music. If the worst happened and she no longer saw signs of Ao Wen holding on, only then would she repeat the words of the elders to Ao Wen's parents. Until then, they had no need to know what had been said.

"Xiang!" Ao Wen shouted, her eyes snapping open. "Jun Ben!" Frantically, Ao Wen tried to get up from the bed she was laying on. Her body moved sluggishly and her legs tangled in the blanket that covered her, sending her sprawling to the floor. Desperately, her eyes cast about for Dragon's Fang or even a wooden practice saber.

"Ao Wen!" Feng Xi cried, pushing her zither aside and rushing to help Ao Wen back up. "It's okay," she said, wrapping her arms around Ao Wen and holding her tightly. "You're home, you're okay," she whispered to Ao Wen, trying to comfort her frantic friend.

"Feng Xi?" Ao Wen said, confused by the sudden change in context. One moment she had been struggling to reach Jun Xiang and Jun Ben, the next she was on a bed that felt unfamiliar after several months in the desert. Looking around, however, the familiar sights of her room at home filled her vision. The pillow she had embroidered, quite badly, when she was ten. The collection of stone animals she had carved for practice while watching her father work in his shop. The earlier ones were crude and barely recognizable, but if you looked, you could see that each one showed improvements over the previous one. Most importantly though, the presence of her best friend and her zither. "Feng Xi," she whispered. "I'm home."

"Yes, you're home," her friend repeated, pulling back to look into Ao Wen's eyes. "A moment ago, you cried out. Who are Xiang and Jun Ben? Were they with you during the Awakening?"

"Jun Ben is an idiot," Ao Wen said almost reflexively. She never should have let him lead the charge with her. She should have asked to take Jun Yang instead, even if he wasn't as fast as Jun Ben. "Jun Xiang…" she paused, trying to figure out how to explain something she didn't fully understand herself. "They were friends once," she said softly after a few moments. "A long time ago. It doesn't matter now."

"Okay," Feng Xi said, outwardly accepting Ao Wen's explanation. Inwardly, Feng Xi was trying to remember when Ao Wen had ever had friends with the surname 'Jun.' As far as she knew, there was no Jun family or clan in Turning Leaf town. Ao Wen's eyes looked distant, as though she hadn't fully come back from whatever she'd been experiencing these past few days. Looking deep into her friend's dark amber eyes, Feng Xi saw shadows of anxiety and pain that hadn't been there before the awakening. Whatever she'd been through, it hadn't been simple.

"Can I," Ao Wen started to speak, finding even the sound of her voice oddly different. "Can I have a few moments? Let mother know that I'll be down as soon as I've freshened up."

"Of course," Feng Xi said, still looking at her friend with concern. "I'll fetch your father over too. I know they both want to see you up and about."

Once Feng Xi had left, Ao Wen walked slowly to the small dressing table in her room, picking up a polished bronze mirror. For a moment, she saw a splatter of coyote blood across her hand and across the reflection of her face. A blink later and it was gone, even if the sensation of hot sticky fluid still lingered on her skin.

Her skin felt oddly pale, lacking the darker tones of her months spent training under the searing desert sun. While she'd never been frail as a stonecutter's daughter, her body lacked the cut physique she'd possessed in the desert. Slipping out of her sleep wear, she traced delicate fingers over her upper arms, stomach, calves… Dimly, she could still feel the tearing pain of wounds inflicted by the Wind Howl Coyotes but her skin was smooth, without scratch or scar.

"I've become a stranger in my own skin," she shuddered. Opening her dresser, she mechanically pulled out a simple skirt in dark brown along with a cream colored top her mother had embroidered with autumn leaves. It felt strange to be wearing women's clothes again after the past several months. At least the skirt gave her room to move in and fight if needed. Fastening her sash, Ao Wen again found herself looking for the saber that wasn't there before shaking off the feeling and leaving her room.

Downstairs, her mother had already hung a closed sign on the public entrance to the bakery and set out a bowl of warm chicken congee on the small table in the family kitchen, along with a pair of small freshly steamed plum buns. Hou Jia's slender frame brimmed with vibrant energy, every gesture or chore transformed into an impromptu dance. Her crimson hair cascaded in waves past her shoulders when unbound, the strands flickering as though granting glimpse to a realm of ethereal flames. Laugh lines creased her china doll features, doing nothing to diminish the girlish charm she emanated well into middle age. Sparks of inspiration constantly ignited in her sherry eyes and the confections and delicacies she crafted.

"Wen'er," her mother greeted as Ao Wen stepped into the family kitchen. "Sit, sit, you've had little other than thin congee these past nine days, I'm sure you're very hungry," she said, pulling out a chair and all but dragging Ao Wen into it. "You have to eat slowly. You may have become a Fairy but you still need to give your body time when you've been sick."

"Yes mother," Ao Wen said with a smile. No matter how she had changed since Awakening, her mother was still her mother. She wondered if Jun Biyu's mother had been the same way, or if Mei Lien's had? Eighteen lives. Eighteen mothers and fathers, twice as many grandparents… were any of them still alive? Had they become Immortal like her previous selves or were they like her parents, unable to cultivate?

"I said slowly," her mother chided, "but don't just sit there with your spoon in your hand staring out the window. Eat. You won't be able to think straight until you do."

Shaking off the thoughts of her other lives for a moment, Ao Wen inhaled the savory aroma of chicken congee, seasoned with plenty of ginger and fresh scallion. Clearly her mother was treating her the same as she had when Ao Wen fell ill as a child, but the nostalgic taste helped bring her back to this time and this life. It was also very different in taste from what she'd eaten in the desert, further cementing that she was back.

As Ao Wen ate, her mother bustled about the kitchen, gathering the ingredients for a proper celebratory feast tonight. "You have a good friend in Fairy Feng you know," her mother said as she began mincing pork for dumplings. "They wouldn't let ordinary folk into the Holy Light Abode where you were recovering after Awakening but Fairy Feng kept you company with her zither every day. When they said you could rest at home, she all but moved in to take care of you. You be sure to thank her properly for everything she's done."

As Ao Wen opened her mouth to say that of course she would, the back door slid open to reveal Ao Wen's father with Feng Xi trailing behind. For a moment, Ao Yang's figure overlapped with Jun Yang's in Ao Wen's eyes. It wasn't just the similarity in their names that did it. His rugged features reflected the character of stone, craggy peaks forming brows perpetually locked in studious concentration, eyes glinting like geodes concealing crystalline mysteries. Though crossing into middle age, not a single silvery hair punctuated his raven mane or the neat beard cascading beneath his strong jawline.

His broad shoulders and thick arms marked a lifetime of molding sculptures from unforgiving stone with just hammers and chisels. Fingers permanently stained with stone dust moved with startling nimbleness belying their thickness when caressing his latest carving. The faint scent of minerals clung to his skin and clothes no matter how recently he bathed, as though the very earth reached out to reclaim its child. His voice rang deeply but gently as the first tremor heralding a distant avalanche. Ao Wen wondered, given another few decades, how much would Jun Yang resemble her father? If someone were to see the pair together, would Jun Yang be mistaken for her elder brother?

Both men radiated an aura of solid strength and muscles like iron. Her father might never have swung a saber but in a contest of bodily strength, Ao Yang might not lose to the muscled warrior from the Jun clan! "Father," she said belatedly, standing respectfully as he entered.

"Wen'er," he said, wrapping her into a crushing embrace. "Look at you," he said, pulling back and examining his daughter through misty eyes. "My daughter the Fairy. I'm so very proud of you."

"I'm sorry father," Ao Wen said softly. "Your daughter has been unfilial and worried you and mother greatly these days," she apologized sincerely.

"Nonsense," Ao Yang said, patting her shoulder. "You did exactly as I said you would, leaping over the Dragon Gate in a single step. This father couldn't be more proud! Just wait till I share the news, Old Liu is going to turn green with envy that the grandson he always brags about wasn't so cable as our Wen," Ao Yang said with a boisterous laugh.

"Husband can be proud later," Ao Wen's mother cut in with a shake of her knife. "Right now, she still hasn't finished her congee, your poor daughter needs to eat! Come help me in the kitchen, I'm sure Fairy Feng has a lot of things to catch Wen up on," Hou Jia said, taking her husband by the elbow and giving the young women some space to themselves.

"Right, I'm sure a lot happened while I slept," Ao Wen said, returning to her seat. "What did I miss? Did anyone else awaken this year?"

"About that," Feng Xi said, taking a seat across from Ao Wen, her delicate hand reaching out to poach one of the steamed plum buns. She still wanted Ao Wen to make some for her, but the ones her mother made were perfect, soft and fluffy with a sweet plum center that almost melted on the tongue. "Things this year were… complicated," she said.