Chapter Text
When Yun Chuan finally makes it back home, it’s to discover he has a message waiting for him on his answering machine.
(Li Ling mocks him often for having one. “You should get a cell phone,” he insists, with all the exasperation of a young person mocking their elders. Yun Chuan has been slow to pick up on new technology these days though, when he spends most of his time wandering the wilds. Even if he did want one, he doesn’t exactly have the money for a cell phone at the moment. The answering machine suits him fine).
There’s only one message, and it’s recent—within the last hour or so. To Yun Chuan’s surprise, it’s his boss, Li Xiao, the same man who gave him food and later a job when he was living on the streets of the city.
“I got the Li physician’s message,” Li Xiao says without preamble. He sounds tired, and Yun Chuan remembers Ben saying the boss had pulled a double shift to make sure everyone else could be spared to look for Li Ling. “Official seal and everything. Just to be clear, you are not to come in to work today or tomorrow, per orders. Don’t worry about your shifts—the other guards already debriefed with me and let me know what you did for that kid. They were falling over themselves to volunteer to take your place so you can rest.”
A long pause. “You’re a good guy, Yun Chuan. You did a good thing for that kid. I’m glad you made it home safe. Take care of yourself.”
He hangs up with a click. The answering machine’s blinking light goes dark. The sudden silence in his apartment is almost deafening, after a night of howling winter winds.
Yun Chuan is suddenly aware of how exhausted he is. He’s held himself together for hours and hours now, for the others but especially Li Ling, and he’s just about at his limit. Not even his extensive training in cold-weather conditions and physical endurance can protect him forever.
A wise man knows when to listen to his body, just like he’d lectured Li Ling last night. He spares only enough time to take a quick shower, wiping away the grime of the burrow and warming himself to the bones in the way only hot water or a fire can.
Then he collapses wearily into bed, and allows himself to fall into a much-needed sleep at last.
Yun Chuan takes the next two days off, as ordered.
It’s not something he’s thrilled by. Not unlike Li Ling, he dislikes being forced to stay inactive. Training is more than just a way to stay healthy and maintain his skills for him; he genuinely enjoys it.
But if he’s being honest with himself, he does feel quite lousy for the days that the physician had told him to take off. Even with the man’s Esper healing, his skin feels tight and his muscles sore, and not in the good way that indicates a successful day’s training. He’s hurting and in need of rest.
So as much as he hates doing nothing and skipping his morning and evening spear sessions, he lets his spear sit against the couch and takes it easy. He uses the medications and salves strictly as instructed and gives his body time to heal. When sleeping inevitably grows boring, he passes the time reading a book one of his fellow guards lent him, or practicing with his flute.
Still, it does come as something of a relief to be able to go back to work at the Oversea Cliffs guard posts. Not because he especially loves the job. Sitting in the shadow of the Chaos Miracle, floating like a death omen above them, is always nerve wracking. The stress there is palpable.
But because it means a return to routine, and there is something comforting in that. He can move again without pain. The frostbite scars are already solidifying, but his body is covered in a dozen other scars, and he’s ashamed of none of them or the stories they tell. He’s recovered and ready.
And he’s relieved to return to the cliffs because he is the best suited for the task. Every single one of his fellow guardsmen is a mere ordinary human, like himself. Espers are still too new and rare to find and hire for something as simple as guard duty, and no one knows how to make them yet. An Esper might be better suited to fight the monsters that come out of the Miracle, but there aren’t any to spare.
Yun Chuan, though—he doesn’t think it’s arrogance to say he believes in his ability to handle a fight against those monsters, at least for a little while. Enough to at least buy time for innocent people to flee. If the Chaos Miracle should release massive amounts of energy, or spew forth those monsters, he would prefer to be the one on duty when it happens. He has a better chance of making a difference than any of his fellow guards.
And those guards have families. He would hate to see them die and leave their loved ones behind. He has nothing to lose, as a transient man who spent his whole life wandering the wilds, and no one who will mourn him when he dies.
Except Li Ling, perhaps, he can’t help but think. Would his apprentice be upset if he died? Perhaps.
But it would still be worth it in the end, if Yun Chuan’s sacrifice bought that boy one more day to live. If it kept a child from being conscripted into combat against the Miracles for his powers against his will.
So although the job is not pleasant by any means—Yun Chuan is still glad to be back.
And the next few days are, indeed, blissfully routine. The early winter storm is followed by a second, making Tangton cold and bleak, but it’s much more bearable indoors. The guards save up to get Yun Chuan a new coat, since he sacrificed his for Li Ling. He’s able to practice his spear routines in the local park, since traveling outside the city is a bit treacherous at the moment, but the days pass well enough despite it. The Chaos Miracle remains ominous and looming, but silent, its energy readings low and level.
And then, on the third day of Yun Chuan’s return to work, Li Xiao approaches him. Li Xiao is normally calm and kind; he’d listened to Yun Chuan’s explanations without judgment when Yun Chuan had first been arrested, given him food and a job. He’s a good and honorable man, difficult to unnerve. But his expression is pale as he meets Yun Chuan and Ben during the afternoon shift change, and hands Yun Chuan a letter.
“What is this?” Yun Chuan asks, frowning. It’s some sort of formal letter, from the expensive looking envelope and paper, and the seal on the back is from the Li family.
“The head of the family wishes to speak to you,” Li Xiao says curtly. He swallows, and adds softly, “Read it immediately.”
Yun Chuan peels open the request with a puzzled frown. The script is handwritten, beautiful, formal, and unquestionably demands his presence immediately.
“He wants me to come now,” Yun Chuan says.
“Then I suggest you go.”
“But I just arrived—I’m relieving Ben for the afternoon shift—”
“I’ll take it,” Li Xiao says immediately. “Consider yourself covered. It isn’t wise to say no to the head of the family, or keep him waiting.”
Yun Chuan glances at Ben, who shrugs. “Don’t look at me,” he says. “I’m from Gyrate. I just came for the steady paycheck and a chance to collect Miracle data. I don’t know anything about it.”
Yun Chuan’s frown grows deeper, and he looks back to Li Xiao. “If you’re sure—”
Li Xiao hesitates. “Ben. You’re dismissed.”
Ben glances back and forth between them, before shaking his head. “I’m not hearing nothing,” he mutters, before grabbing his coat and taking his leave from the guard room.
The moment he’s gone, Li Xiao says curtly, “I need you to understand, Yun Chuan. You did a great service for Li Ling, and while that kid’s a spoiled menace, he’s just that: a kid. I’ve got no issues with him.
“But his family…they take status very seriously. The Li surname is a gift. To interact with the Li family is a gift. To anger them is the kind of danger you can’t possibly fight with a spear, and your kind of justice can’t touch them. Remember, Yun Chuan: you might be that kid’s master, but to his family you are a lowlife guard at the most deadly outpost they control, and you are disposable. ”
“Is that a threat?” Yun Chuan says.
“It’s a warning,” Li Xiao corrects. “Please take it seriously. Don’t make them angry. Don’t cross them. I was able to make your record assaulting a Tang member go away, but if you cross the Li family, there is nothing I can do to save you. Please understand that.”
“You’re afraid,” Yun Chuan realizes, eyes widening.
“With reason,” Li Xiao answers curtly.
“But you are a Li!”
“A gift,” Li Xiao says. “One not easily earned. So understand that I know what I’m talking about. Please, Yun Chuan. I have a great deal of respect for you. I’d rather not see you find your end at the hands of politics and social maneuverings. The Li household might consider you disposable. I don’t.”
Yun Chuan takes a deep breath. “I see,” he says. “I’ll bear your advice in mind.”
“Good. Please do. And no matter how much you might feel like punching the man you talk to…restrain yourself. Now go.”
Yun Chuan goes.
He isn’t summoned to the Li estate, which surprises him at first. Until he realizes he’s being summoned instead to the high-rise skyscraper that the Li family owns, the center of most of their actual power in the city.
Yun Chuan doesn’t like that building. He’s trained Li Ling on its roof, a few times, back when Li Ling was first demanding that Yun Chuan be his master and the Li family still wasn’t confident about putting their valued Esper son’s life in the hands of a wandering vagrant. Yun Chuan had been sharply aware that he was being supervised, then, even if Li Ling had been either oblivious or too used to it to care.
Familiarity doesn’t make it a place he enjoys going to, though. Not just because it’s a skyscraper in the middle of the city, as far from the wilds as it’s ever possible to get, although that is part of it. The walls feel confining, the height unnatural and man-made. Tight hallways and elevators are the bane of any spearman, when close quarters limit attack patterns to jabs and little else.
But it’s more than that. It isn’t just the urban landscape or the close quarters. It’s the feel of places like this. Tainted with the stink and acrid taste of politics, confusing policies, and scrambling for money, nothing in them feels real or true. These are the places where cruel and unforgiving practices are dreamed up and implemented, tearing honest people down while the unjust climb over their corpses. And as Li Xiao said, there’s no way to fight them, because they’ve twisted the threads of their policies and politics to always come out in their favor.
When Yun Chuan had first arrived in the city, following the whim of his wanderlust, he’d nearly starved. And it wasn’t politics or money or policies that saved him. It was kindness; the kindness of a man who offered him a bowl of rice and a job, the kindness of an old man who would take in a homeless stranger and feed him when he had nowhere else to go.
Kindness is one of the most noble of traits Yun Chuan can think of. In the city, it means nothing. Li Xiao is deathly afraid his kindness will amount to nothing. Grandpa Chen had been murdered by predatory loan sharks that abused a kind old man and tormented him until he died. And no one can do anything about it in the city, because the perpetrators wear the names Tang and Li and are untouchable to anyone who lives within the web of laws and money that they have firm control of.
It disgusts Yun Chuan. Life shouldn’t be like this. He could easily use his fists and his spear to bring such perpetrators to justice. If they faced him in a fair fight, they would never stand a chance. They were cowards on the inside, living by cruel tricks and practices but never able to put their muscles where their money was.
But he’d tried that once, and all it had done was get him arrested. He’d nearly gone into the Nether Gaol for having the audacity to beat a Tang loanshark black and blue. The Nether Gaol! The prison for the absolute worst offenders and murderers, and he would have been counted amongst them if Li Xiao hadn’t interfered because he’d dared to stand up to one of those families.
It’s disgusting. It infuriates him. There are still days he desperately wants to drive his fist into the face of such cruelty when he sees it.
But he’s learned it won’t work. Not that way. Loathe as he is to admit it, his justice doesn’t work in Tangton, no matter how much he wants it to. He hadn’t been able to save Grandpa Chen. He hadn’t even been able to get retribution for him. If he’s incarcerated, he can’t protect hundreds of citizens at the Oversea Cliffs. He can’t look for the opportunity to change things.
He can’t teach Li Ling, and perhaps guide him out of this circular cruelty. Perhaps the only way such things can change is from within.
Real justice is tainted in this city. But perhaps, one day, he can help it find the way again, as long as he is patient.
So loathe as he is to do so, he grits his teeth, and he enters the towering building with the Li family name emblazoned on its front. He tries to ignore the confined interior and that rotting, corporate miasma of greed and power that fills the place, only thinly veiled under a guise of cold professionalism.
He isn’t remotely surprised to find himself stopped almost immediately by Li guards on the first floor. They know him distantly, but these are house guards, not oversea cliffs assignees, and his coworkers only in the barest sense of the word. One, he notes, is the same one who had been in charge of Li Ling’s rescue—the one who had tried to take Li Ling and had his wrists nearly crushed for it.
“We got word you were coming,” that same man says. “You’re to go right up, but you need to give us the spear.”
Yun Chuan presses his lips together. Of course his spear is with him; he’d come straight from the Oversea Cliffs, where he’d had it for duty in case an attack happened. “I’ll relinquish it,” he says slowly, “if it is locked up securely, and I receive it back immediately when I leave.”
One of the house guards gives him a disbelieving look, possibly wondering why he puts so much importance on a spear. Yun Chuan ignores him.
And to his credit, the lead guard from the rescue says, “I’ll make sure it’s properly cared for.” There’s guarded respect, grudging but genuine, as he nods to Yun Chuan. Perhaps it’s because he’s one of the few people that can so easily handle their young master without difficulty.
“Thank you,” Yun Chuan says, before carefully handing the spear over to that guard specifically. The man takes it carefully, and Yun Chuan adds, “How are your arms? Li Ling didn’t injure you too badly, I hope?”
The man grits his teeth. “Fine,” he says curtly. “He didn’t break anything. I know he could have. Seen it before.”
He probably had. Still. “I’ll be sure to work with him on that,” Yun Chuan says sincerely. “He’d been under strain and he was exhausted, but that’s still not an excuse to use such power so poorly. Especially against another without such powers.”
The man positively grimaces, but after a moment, says, “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Based on the way he glances around, like he’s looking for surveillance, Yun Chuan suspects he’d like to say more. Perhaps complain, or vent his frustrations about an eight-year-old that can so casually nearly break a man’s arms. But he holds his tongue.
Probably a wise choice, here.
“Twentieth floor,” the man says, tucking the spear carefully against his shoulder with the air of a person who doesn’t know how to use it but is experienced enough to know just how dangerous it is. “He’ll see you immediately.”
Yun Chuan nods, and gets in the elevator.
The secretary on the floor also immediately ushers him into a room the moment she sees him; he certainly is expected. The inner office she leads him to is enormous, to an almost boastful degree. He could fit his entire modest apartment in it with room to spare. It’s decorated in a modern style, all hard edges and metallic colors, with enormous windows letting in early afternoon light. Everything seems deeply expensive, designed to show off wealth, and coldly industrial, without a speck of personality. This place is devoid of any kind of soul, any kind of life.
Yun Chuan suppresses a shudder.
What the room isn’t, is occupied. Despite being anticipated, apparently Yun Chuan had not been worth waiting for. There are also no seats in here besides the computer chair behind the large desk, which Yun Chuan knows better than to use himself. This seems to be an intentional design, forcing others to stand in a not-so-subtle reminder of who is in control of the situation.
But two can play at that game, and Yun Chuan refuses to be intimidated or fall into the ridiculous power plays of the rich and unjust. He strides forward to stand three paces from the desk, stands firmly with his feet planted, and folds his hands behind his back, like he’s watching one of Li Ling’s forms. He falls into meditative stillness, and he waits.
It’s nearly fifteen minutes before the head of the Li household deigns to acknowledge the person he summoned in the first place. But at last, the doors behind Yun Chuan open, and the man himself enters the room, striding past Yun Chuan as if he’s little more than a decorative statue. He settles himself neatly at his desk, slaps a manila envelope on its nearly empty surface, and types in his password on his laptop, tapping something away on it for several minutes without acknowledging Yun Chuan at all.
Another power play, most likely. Yun Chuan spends his time studying the man instead. They’ve met only one other time, when Li Ling first became Yun Chuan’s apprentice and had to get the permission of his parents to train with him. Like before, Yun Chuan notes certain things about the man. He keeps his dark hair short, slicked back, but there’s a barely contained wildness to it that his son has inherited. Something in the set of the jaw, and the eye color, is the same between father and son as well.
But there are differences, too. Li Ling is stubborn, even spoiled, believing he can do whatever he wants whenever he wants. But he’s a good kid under the surface, with ultimately good intentions. Even this entire debacle had happened because he wanted to help villagers deal with a threatening wild animal. There’s passion there, excitement, a willingness to fight hard and do his best and to care for those that are close to him.
Yun Chuan doesn’t see any evidence of that with his father. Where Li Ling is a burning spark, his father is a cold shard of ice. Where Li Ling is fiercely protective of his family, his important people, his father is protective only insofar as the Li name and its power and reputation matter. He is a man well aware of ranks and politics, and coldly calculated with every one of his actions.
Perhaps it is no wonder that Li Ling desperately seeks approval from his master. Yun Chuan doubts he’ll ever receive it from his father.
After ten more minutes, Yun Chuan is finally given the courtesy of being acknowledged. The head of the Li household finally shuts his laptop and regards Yun Chuan speculatively. If he’s expecting Yun Chuan to appear agitated or tired from being left ignored and standing so long, he’s disappointed. And if he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it, surveying Yun Chuan with icy gray eyes and a flat expression.
“So,” Li Ling’s father says, without preamble or so much as a greeting. “You’re the one who saved my son on the mountain five days ago.”
“Yes, sir,” Yun Chuan says, trying to keep his tone as neutral and respectful as possible.
“One of the Oversea Cliff guards? Under Li Xiao?”
“Yes, sir,” Yun Chuan says again, although he knows for a fact the man already knows this. He’d sent Li Xiao to summon him directly.
The man is trying to mess with him. Yun Chuan isn’t sure how to play petty games of words like the rich and political do, but while he knows better than to point that out, he isn’t about to show fear either. He doesn’t care if the man thinks he’s cannon fodder or disposable for his position. He’s taken it proudly, knowing he might save lives with it.
“Hmm,” the man says. “My son never stops talking about you, you know. He admires you quite a bit.”
“I’m honored, sir. Li Ling is a good child.”
“He’s a menace,” Li Ling’s father says dismissively, waving a hand as though tossing the compliment aside. “I’ve seen the damage reports. I’ve paid to fix things. I know what he’s really like.”
Yun Chuan finds that unlikely.
“Still,” the head of the Li household continues, “from what I’ve been told, you put your life on the line to bring him back safe.”
“I suppose I did, sir.”
“Why?”
Yun Chuan can’t help but show his shock at such a cruel question. The man notes it immediately, eyes narrowing, cold gaze searching.
What kind of answer would satisfy the type of person that questions his own son’s rescue? Someone who couldn’t seem to understand why a person who had worked with a child, taught them and guided them, might risk their life for them without expecting any reward or benefit?
“Li Ling is special, sir,” Yun Chuan explains after a moment. “I believe he’s meant to do important things in this world. Why else would he be given such powers? I couldn’t allow that light to leave the world so early.”
“So you saved him because of his powers,” the man summarizes, folding his fingers together in front of his face.
I saved him because he’s mine, Yun Chuan wants to snarl back angrily. My apprentice. My little one. Yours only in name. Mine in every way that matters.
What he says out loud is merely, “I saved him because he’s a child, sir. He doesn’t deserve to die over a childish mistake.”
“Hmm.” One of his fingers taps thoughtfully against the back of his hand. “Well. Know that you have my gratitude for your efforts. Li Ling is very important to my family. And as you’ve said, with his Esper powers, he is important to all of Tangton.”
Yun Chuan loathes how Li Ling’s own father talks of him like a tool, rather than his son. A very real part of him wants to leap over the desk and slam his fists into the man’s jaw, over and over, and teach him to notice his own damned child.
But Li Xiao’s frightened voice, and his pale face, is still firmly lodged in his memory. To anger them is the kind of danger you can’t possibly fight with a spear, and your kind of justice can’t touch them. If you cross the Li family, there is nothing I can do to save you.
It feels like a betrayal of his own beliefs, and it takes every ounce of self-discipline he possesses. But Yun Chuan stays still, bites his tongue to keep from yelling, and holds himself silent. For Li Xiao. For Li Ling.
“I’ve arranged for your next paycheck to include a bonus, as a sign of that gratitude,” the man continues, oblivious to the fight raging in Yun Chuan’s head.
“Thank you sir,” Yun Chuan manages to bite out. “That’s very kind of you.”
“I should think so,” the man says.
The true irony is that the man probably does think he’s being charitable, in his own cold way. His world revolves around money and politics. To him, those are things anyone would struggle and claw for. Throwing loose change to a disposable cliff guard more likely than not to die at the foot of the Chaos Miracle is probably an expense that would otherwise be considered pointless. But it looks good for publicity. Just another step up in politics.
Yun Chuan hates that he’s a part of that.
The man continues staring at him coldly over the top of his folded hands. It feels like how a predator might stare at potential prey; sizing it up, seeing if it’s worth the fight. Like the bear from the other night, only Yun Chuan suspects the bear has more honor than this man ever will.
Finally, the man sets both hands firmly in front of him on the desk, still folded, and says calmly, “You have a most curious habit of crossing paths with my family.”
“I am employed as a guard for the Li family, sir. It would be difficult not to.”
“That isn’t what I meant, and we both know it. Three notable incidents in the past six months alone.” The man swivels his chair sideways, waving a hand idly in the air with a sharp gesture. But Yun Chuan doesn’t miss the way the man watches him slyly, sideways, from the corner of his eye.
Yun Chuan’s heart ices over, although he thinks he manages to keep his expression staying even. Three notable incidents. Rescuing Li Ling, certainly. Becoming his master and training him, also a likely incident, given the unlikelihood of a homeless bottom-rung commoner interacting regularly with a pampered son of the Li family.
But there’s only one other incident that Yun Chuan can think of that ties him to the Li family: attacking that damnable Tang loanshark for harassing Grandpa Chen, and Li Xiao releasing him and giving him a job. Li Xiao had promised to ‘deal with it.’ Li Xiao had said earlier that day that he’d managed to make Yun Chuan’s record against the Tangs ‘go away,’ but Yun Chuan had never considered for a moment how.
Now he has a sickening suspicion he knows precisely how. This man knows about Yun Chuan’s record. He would have the power, as one of the important families in Tangton, to make that record go away. And he certainly would pull the strings to do it, if it benefited him in some way.
And he could probably un do it, if Yun Chuan pushed him too far.
“Thus far, your benefits have outweighed your costs,” the head of the Li household continues, neatly crossing his legs and tapping his fingers on his desk, still sitting sideways and watching Yun Chuan out of the corners of his eyes. The words prove Yun Chuan’s suspicions right, and that cold feeling in his stomach grows, and this man is a demon.
“Keeping my son and Esper alive, and teaching him discipline and strength…given the difficulty and unpleasantness of that particular task, keeping you around is worth it. A man interested in climbing ladders with that kind of ethic and determination might find himself climbing very far indeed.”
He finally swivels in his seat, turning back to face Yun Chuan, lacing his fingers neatly in front of himself again. “But you have a knack for attracting trouble, cliff guard. Trouble brings complications and instabilities I don’t need. So I’ll be keeping an eye on you…in case your cost grows too high.”
Remember, Yun Chuan: you might be that kid’s master, but to his family you are a lowlife guard at the most deadly outpost they control, and you are disposable.
Yun Chuan grits his teeth, and once again, fights back the impulse to leap over the desk and solve this issue with his fists. All these politics and subtle threats and dancing around issues are pointless, and he hates it—
But he can’t let this man bait him into outgrowing his cost. He has to hold on. For Li Ling, and for Li Xiao.
The man stares at him coldly for a long, long time. As if making sure that thought settles into Yun Chuan’s mind; as though he can see the warning settling into place. But at last, he unlaces his fingers, opens his laptop again, and begins typing away. “You’re dismissed,” he says absently, as though Yun Chuan is already unimportant.
“Thank you, sir,” Yun Chuan manages to force out, before turning on his heel and leaving as fast as he can without looking like he’s rushing.
He can’t get out of that building fast enough. He pauses only long enough to collect his spear and make sure it hasn’t been mistreated in any way, and then he’s out the door, back into the city streets and the noise.
He’s been homeless out here, on these very streets. Lived under the shadow of the Chaos Miracle. Slept in a frigid, dirty burrow on the mountaintops, struggling to survive. And yet he’s never felt so vulnerable and helpless anywhere as the place he just left.
He hopes he never has to go back.
The bonus to Yun Chuan’s paycheck does have one major benefit: it allows him to keep his own promise to the best of his ability, as soon as the weather eases up enough to let him.
It’s a pity how long he has to wait, but five days after the incident on the mountain, the weather finally starts to turn again. It’s still chilly—winter is certainly here—but the sun is warm and bright, and beating down heavily enough for the snows to start melting a little.
Yun Chuan takes a morning shift, which means his afternoon is open and free. With his bonus in his pockets, he heads down to the city marketplace, and starts shopping around for food.
There’s plenty to be had here. The fish market is stinking and thriving, with more than a few options. Tangton farmers are selling fresh produce just a few blocks over from that. He’s even able to find an enormous basket, one he can sling over his shoulders, to fill with his purchases. Even when buying for quantity more than quality, he still burns through most of his bonus money to fill the basket by the time he’s done. But even the cheaper options are still decent, and he makes sure nothing is rotting or inedible.
With his now-stuffed basket strapped to his back, weighing him down considerably, he heads for the mountain. He has a promise to keep.
Hiking up the mountainside still takes quite some time, especially with a heavily laden basket on his back. But he thinks of it as strength training, and the weight really isn’t so bad once he gets used to it. He uses his spear as a walking staff for balance, occasionally thrusting it through the melting snow to test for dangerous obstacles beneath, and makes his way slowly up the mountain.
The tracks from days ago are mostly gone now. There had been other snowfalls since, hiding away the footprints of even the search teams. But Yun Chuan is both an expert when it comes to woodscraft, and observant when it comes to the mountain. He’d memorized identifiable spots when carrying Li Ling out of danger, when he could see in the daylight. He follows his mental notes back, now, back the way they came, until he eventually finds the burrow they’d hidden away in for the night.
Animal tracks outside it indicate some other creature has since moved in. Yun Chuan had made it big enough for other creatures to get into, and it would serve as an excellent shelter for most creatures living out here.
He doesn’t disturb whatever has taken up residence in the burrow. It isn’t his any longer. He’d just needed to find it long enough to find his way to his promise.
Reconstructing his movements that night are a little more difficult. It had been dark and bitter cold, and he’d been occupied with keeping Li Ling safe and warm. So it takes him the better part of an hour to find his way through the trees enough to find what he’s looking for: the pact-mark of five dagger claws, scoring an old tree deeply.
From there, he heads in the direction he’d seen the bear come from. It doesn’t take him long to find massive bear tracks in the snow, and he follows them back to the creature’s den, a cave made out of slabs of stone and dug into for extra depth.
“I’ve come back,” Yun Chuan says. “To keep my promise.”
For a moment, it’s silent. But Yun Chuan knows better than to think he’s alone. Those tracks he’d followed had been fresh. And sure enough, a few minutes later something comes shuffling out of the depths of the den, melding out of the shadows into the late afternoon sunlight.
In daylight, the bear is even more massive than Yun Chuan realized, at least half again the size of the average Tangton Black Bear. It looks old enough to have plenty of experience in the wilds, but still young enough to be crafty and strong and hold its own. This creature is, unquestionably, the king of the mountain.
It sniffs in Yun Chuan’s direction, and then growls softly, digging its claws deeply into slushy melting snow. Yun Chuan knows better than to do anything dangerous or rash. Pact or no, this creature can kill him, and will do it if pressed.
So he moves slowly and deliberately, setting his spear aside against a tree trunk and carefully sliding the basket off his shoulders. The bear lowers its head warningly, so Yun Chuan is sure to telegraph all his movements as he swings the basket onto the ground, unties the strap holding it closed, and tips it over onto the snow. All of its contents—fish and vegetables of every variety—come spilling out onto the ground.
The bear raises its head up in surprise, making a soft whuff before sticking its nose in the air and scenting carefully.
“I promised I’d come back and help,” Yun Chuan says, emptying the last bits out of the basket and swinging it back onto his shoulders, considerably lighter. “I know you’re hungry. That’s why you’ve been nosing around the towns and villages. Winter came too early, didn’t it? You weren’t able to prepare in time.”
The bear can’t answer, of course. But it does huff, taking a slow step forward.
Yun Chuan obligingly takes a step back, away from the bounty of food. “All for you,” he says. “Eat up, and stick clear of the towns. And thank you again, for sparing me and what is mine.”
The bear stares at him, long and silent. Then hit huffs again and, seemingly unafraid, steps fully forward towards the payment granted to it. It snatches the nearest item, a fish, and tosses it back to swallow it whole. It licks its lips, makes a satisfied grunt, and sets its teeth around a large carrot, crunching contentedly.
Yun Chuan takes that as a sign that his payment is accepted and his end of the bargain, fulfilled. “Rest well, king of the mountain, and have a safe winter,” he says. And collecting his spear, he turns his back on the bear, unafraid, and heads back down to civilization below.
It’s nearly a week before Yun Chuan hears from his apprentice. But there’s no question as to who could possibly be banging on his door six days after the incident at eight in the morning on his day off.
Only one person in the world is capable of the sharp staccato rap of six fists at once.
“Master!” Li Ling says excitedly, the moment Yun Chuan opens his front door. His little wooden training spear, the one Yun Chuan had made for him, is clutched in one of his divine fists, and he looks up at Yun Chuan gleefully. “I’m all better! Can we go train today?”
He does look better, Yun Chuan notes. His skin is no longer pallid, and the bright spots of red on his cheeks from fever are gone. Someone’s finally managed to take a comb to the boy’s messy wild hair, enough to at least remove the nettles and twigs from the mountain, and the dirt from the burrow has been washed away. Most importantly, his divine arms are back, and maintaining them doesn’t appear to be straining his energy in any way.
But just in case, he invites his apprentice in for a morning snack while making use of the card the Li physician gave him. It would not be out of character at all for Li Ling to slip his minders and rush off to do whatever he wanted, whether or not he was permitted to or healthy enough to do so safely.
Fortunately, Li Ling is more than happy to enjoy a morning treat, and the physician does confirm that Li Ling is recovered enough to begin training again. “Though I advise avoiding the mountains for the time being,” the physician says. Yun Chuan can all but see the wry smile on the Esper’s face, even over the phone.
So Yun Chuan decides to play it safe for the day. Once Li Ling is done eating, they go to the park in the middle of the city—a beautiful place even surrounded by skyscrapers and smog. There are plenty of places to have enough space and relative privacy to train with the spear and not get in the way of other park visitors, and Yun Chuan tracks one down soon enough.
They spend a pleasant few hours at the park. It’s still a bit chilly outside, and Yun Chuan makes sure that Li Ling is bundled up appropriately for the weather; but the snow has melted by now, so the footing isn’t too slippery for spearwork. Li Ling has quite a bit of built up energy after spending a week stuck in bed recovering, and Yun Chuan runs him through enough katas and forms to let him burn off some of it.
It isn’t until they’re taking a break, Li Ling settled on a rock with his divine arms put away and thirstily drinking from a bottle of water, that Yun Chuan decides to talk with him seriously.
“I think,” Yun Chuan says carefully, “It’s time we had that conversation I mentioned on the mountain.”
Li Ling coughs in the middle of drinking his water, and hastily wipes his mouth. “Or we could spar,” he says hastily. “Sparring sounds way better.”
“Li Ling,” Yun Chuan says sternly. “I did say we would talk about it later.”
“It could be later than this—”
“Li Ling.”
His apprentice wilts at the sound of his own name, hunching his shoulders forward. With anyone else, he might throw a fit, or run, or argue defiantly. But he knows better than to try that with Yun Chuan, and he respects his master too much to do so anyway. He sighs and stares at his feet, but mutters, “Okay…”
“Good,” Yun Chuan says. “That’s brave of you. A warrior doesn’t run away from responsibility.”
Li Ling does at least perk up a little at that, although he still looks as though he’s absolutely dreading the next few minutes.
Yun Chuan stands in front of him, crossing his arms. He’s thought about how to talk through this for the past week. He has to do so carefully; the boy needs to understand exactly what he did wrong, but it can’t come across so harshly that he refuses to listen out of sheer stubbornness.
“Alright,” Yun Chuan says. “Do you understand why I was so mad when I found you?”
Li Ling is silent.
“You promised you would wait for me,” Yun Chuan explains. “And then you didn’t.”
“I did wait,” Li Ling says. “You didn’t say how long I had to wait.”
Yun Chuan shakes his head. “You understood what I meant,” he says firmly. “I specifically told you not to go without me because it might be dangerous. You went without me anyway, deliberately disobeying the order I gave you. An apprentice is not supposed to disobey orders like that.”
Li Ling’s shoulders hunch up around his ears, and his fingernails dig into the hard plastic of his water bottle. He very pointedly refuses to meet Yun Chuan’s eyes.
“And then, because you left without me and didn’t take anyone else with you, you put yourself in a very dangerous situation,” Yun Chuan says. “I want you to understand that I was very scared for you that night, Li Ling. I always want you to be safe, but it was very hard to find you that night. If I had been unlucky, you might have died. Do you understand that?”
Li Ling nods slowly. Yun Chuan isn’t entirely sure he really understands just how close he came to death. The boy still thinks he’s invincible, especially given his powers.
But after a moment, he does look up with a little frown. “You were scared, Master?”
“I was.”
“But you’re never scared! You’re the most brave person I know!”
Yun Chuan can’t help but smile at that. “Even I get scared, Li Ling,” he says. “And on that night, I was very scared for you. That’s why I yelled at you when I first found you. And I apologize for yelling at you for that. I was scared, and it made me angry, but that was no excuse to yell at you.”
“It’s okay, Master,” Li Ling says immediately. “You don’t have a bad bone in your body, I didn’t really think you meant it.”
Yun Chuan can’t help but think of the Tang family thugs he beat the hell out of before meeting his apprentice. Or the way he wanted so badly to pummel the boy’s own father. He’s certain he does have a few bad bones in his body, but it’s probably best not to let Li Ling know about those for now.
“I’m very happy that you’re okay now, Li Ling,” Yun Chuan says. “But I want you to listen to me when I say this next part, and really try to understand it, okay? I know you’re very capable, and very strong. And I’m not going to hold you back if I think you can do something, because I want to see you get stronger just as much as you do. But if I say don’t do something, then I need you to listen to me, okay? Because if I tell you not to do something, then it means you aren’t ready to do it on your own yet.”
Li Ling puts his water bottle down next to his rock, and crosses his arms. It might look like a stubborn pout to most, but to Yun Chuan it seems almost defensive. “I could have handled that bear if it hadn’t snowed. Even if it was bigger than I thought.”
“That isn’t the point, Li Ling,” Yun Chuan says sternly. “Don’t forget, I have a lot more experience than you. That’s why I’m training you, apprentice. Even if you could have fought that bear to a standstill—” and Yun Chuan isn’t convinced Li Ling could have, given the beast’s size and strength, “—you don’t know enough about how the wilderness works, or what signs to look for. That’s why you got lost once you went off the trail.”
Li Ling grumbles, but doesn’t argue.
“Plus,” Yun Chuan continues, “You don’t know enough about reading the weather yet to know if it’s safe to go out. That morning, I knew it was going to snow—I had gone to your house to tell you we weren’t going to go out that day because it would be too dangerous. If you had just waited like you promised, you would have known.”
“It was sunny,” Li Ling says. “It didn’t look like it was gonna snow.”
“That’s why you need to listen to me,” Yun Chuan says. “And even if it had been sunny—the bear never needed to be fought to begin with. Can you understand the position it was in? Try to think of it from the bear’s perspective. It understood winter was coming because of its instincts. It was hungry and looking for food, so that it wouldn’t starve during hibernation. That problem didn’t have to be solved with violence. A skilled warrior should know when fighting isn’t the answer.”
Li Ling stares down at the dirt beneath his feet. His shoulders are still hunched around his ears, and his arms are wrapped around his chest in a protective self-hug. After a moment, he says in a small, miserable voice, “I…I’m sorry. I just wanted to prove to you that I could do it, Master…”
That tiny, vulnerable voice is like a spear thrust straight through Yun Chuan’s heart. His poor apprentice. Li Ling has grown up wanting for nothing materialistic, but absolutely desperate to prove himself. Worth and cost and gain mean everything in the Li family. To him, this is how life works, and he’d failed to prove his worth.
Yun Chuan intends to cut that off at the pass. He crouches on one knee in front of his apprentice, who’s still sitting on a rock, so he’s eye-level with the eight year old. Li Ling is still looking at his feet, so Yun Chuan reaches out and gently tilts his chin up so he can truly look his little apprentice in the eye.
“You do not ever need to prove yourself to me, Li Ling,” he says, very carefully and very firmly. “I already know you’re a skilled student, and a good person. I will never measure your worth like that. Okay? Do you understand?”
Li Ling blinks in confusion and surprise. “But—but if I’m a bad disciple, you might not want to teach me anymore—”
“That will never happen,” Yun Chuan says firmly. “You don’t ever have to prove that you’re worth being my student. You will always be my apprentice, and that’s not going to change unless you want it to. Do you understand?”
Li Ling’s bottom lip wobbles a little, and his eyes look suspiciously shiny and wet. “O-oh,” he says slowly. “O…okay…”
“Good.” Yun Chuan gently wraps him in a hug, and just like a week ago, Li Ling’s head settles comfortably against his shoulder. There’s a very tiny sniffle, which his apprentice is doing his best to keep silent, because he still thinks he’s too grown up for childish emotions. Yun Chuan takes pity on him for the moment, and pretends not to notice, but he does pat the boy gently on the head as he hugs him. And after a moment, two much smaller arms slowly and tentatively reach up to return the hug, and cling tightly to Yun Chuan’s sweater when they aren’t batted away.
“Are you gonna punish me?” Li Ling mumbles into his shoulder after a long moment.
“I think you’ve been punished enough,” Yun Chuan says mildly. “Have you learned your lesson about listening to me?”
“Yes,” Li Ling says firmly into his shoulder. “I’ll do better next time, Master. I promise.”
“Good.”
The boy squirms a little in his arms, so Yun Chuan finally releases him, standing up and pretending not to notice as Li Ling scrubs at his eyes and face for a moment. But then, seemingly to cover for his own emotional moment, Li Ling leaps up and snatches at his training spear.
“Is that enough of a break, Master? Can we go back to training? I really wanna spar with you today!”
Yun Chuan chuckles. “You drank your water?”
“Yes!”
“All right.” He deftly flips his own spear into his hand with one foot, spinning it once to bring it at the ready. “Then let’s see how well you’ve learned.”
Li Ling grins, and all four of his divine arms burst into existence at his back again. “Today’s the day I’m gonna beat you, Master!”
Not today, Yun Chuan thinks. His apprentice has so much more to learn, still. But he’ll keep teaching Li Ling for as long as the boy desires, just like he promised. And one day, his apprentice truly will be a force to be reckoned with.
Yun Chuan can’t wait to see that day.