Three Koi and an Orchid

Spring rain returned with a vengeance during the night. Pia rose early, sitting in the main doorway to Dedication, watching the courtyard puddle up once more.

Despite the confidence she’d had with her friends, worry ate her from the inside out. A worm burrowing through her heart, weakening her confidence. Either she’d get offers for apprenticeship, or she’d get her exam returned to her. A returned test paper meant failure. It meant no sect or Master found the candidate worthy of apprenticeship.

A shudder rippled through her at the thought of it happening to her. She’d worked too hard, put in too much effort for it to end in Dwelling. Her eyes scanned over Dedication—the emptiness and isolation further soured her mood.

Pia decided sitting at home wasn’t the best idea. It always made her go crazy. The silence was too loud, the emptiness too busy.

Slipping on her boots, Pia stood and dashed out of the courtyard, leaping over the wall, and jogging down the main road. Training would calm her mind.

The road out of town was mostly empty. Store fronts without shelters had their outdoor wares moved inside. Food vendors had their awnings open to protect their customers. The lack of activity in the village made her feel as if she were the only person left in the world. Taking a deep breath, Pia focused inward. The pulsing of her heart in her ears, the rhythmic sound of her feet slapping the wet ground.

She ran her usual training route. An alternate path that spiraled up the mountain in the opposite direction of Reflection. The path was perfect for building endurance. The entire path was on a steep incline with natural rock and log obstacles to build muscle and flexibility. Running it left her heart racing and her muscles burning. On the way down, she had to slow her pace, careful to avoid a slip in the mud.

A few crows chattered as she passed. Pia waved at them, grinning. For all the years she’d been running this path, the crows had been there. She liked to think of them as her fans cheering her on. Their beady black eyes glimmered with mischief and their loud cawing cries always put her in a better mood.

On the days it rained, most of the wildlife stayed hidden away. Pia missed the animal songs of the forest but there was a tranquility in the sound of rain on the leaves and the song of the wind whistling through the tree limbs. When her muscles ached, lungs burned, and vision narrowed to just the path ahead Pia felt free. If she ran just a bit further, pushed a bit harder, could she sprout wings and fly away?

Pia wished she could fly, up and away, floating in the wind, going anywhere she wanted.

Her return into town jarred her from her meditative mindset. The streets were still empty and quiet, and the feelings of peace she had felt in the forest quickly evaporated. She slowed her pace down to a brisk walk, pushing air out of her lungs to avoid a side cramp. A growl pierced the silence as her stomach let out a complaint.

Slipping her hand inside her inner robe, Pia felt for the few dol she had left. It was enough to make a stop. Changing direction, Pia headed toward her favorite food vendor.

The Lucky Cat was a small bun vendor near Dedication. It was set near the end of the main road, a single stand tucked between a dress shop and a stationary shop. As she neared, the smell of the steaming buns had her mouth drooling.

The man behind the counter saw her coming and he scowled at her. Pia grinned widely at him, waving.

“I don’t serve drowned cats,” he called out, turning on his stool away from her.

“Old Pot, what have you got for me today?” Pia asked happily, ducking under the awning in front of his shop.

The reprieve of the rain was welcome, but water slicked down her head and face, down her body, to pool at her feet.

Old Pot looked her up and down and stared pointedly at the puddle at her feet.

“You’re getting water everywhere,” he complained.

Pia looked at her feet, at the large puddle that had clearly been there before her.

“Blaming me for the rain,” she said, pouting.

Crossing her arms, Pia looked behind him at the stacks of bamboo baskets. Steam poured from them, filling the air with the scent of cooking buns. She wasn’t sure if the meat or sweet buns smelled better to her.

“No,” Old Pot said, holding up a hand. “Nothing for you. With that appearance,” he gestured to her body, “you’re going to scare away all my customers.”

Mouth agape, Pia looked left, then right, then turned flinging her arms wide.

“What customers?”

He grabbed a wooden spoon from the counter and shook it at her, threateningly, “Don’t think I won’t come out there and teach you manners.”

Bowing before him, Pia gave him a respectful nod.

“I thank the gods every day that you don’t teach anyone anything,” she told him solemnly, hiding a smile behind her hands.

Old Pot sputtered, turning away from her, but Pia saw his shoulders move and knew he was hiding a laugh.

“Go away, wretched creature,” he yelled.

“First, the buns!”

Turning around, Old Pot bundled four buns into a bundle of paper and then tossed them across the counter at her.

Pia pulled three dol from her inner robes and left it on the counter. Picking up the buns, she said, “Keep the change, Old Pot!”

Before he could reply, Pia trotted back into the rain, smiling brightly, mood significantly improved.

“That barely covers one!” he called after her.

Back turned, Pia hid her grin. Her spirit felt bolstered after her chat, warmth in her chest at his kindness. Next to Fewl and Conch, Old Pot was the person she liked best in Dwelling. Despite his gruffness, he’d always been kind to her. It wasn’t often Pia could afford to buy food from vendors. Count Sol included one silver a month in the supplies the servants brought to Dedication. It didn’t last long so Pia had to budget every dol spent.

She bit into a bun, savoring the richness of the sweet red beans, the fluffiness of the bread. No one made buns like he did. The hunger hit her after the first bite and Pia quickly devoured all four. Old Pot had given her two meat buns, a sweet red bean bun, and a veggie bun. She wanted to savor each bite, but in the cool rain a warm bun was better than a cold one.

Pia leapt the wall for Dedication and entered the kitchen. She decided today was worth breaking into her tea stash. She quickly built a fire and put on a pot to boil tea water. Cutting and stacking wood was her least favorite chore, but on days like this, Pia was glad she forced herself to do it regularly. Dry wood lit quickly and burned with less smoke.

Returning to the main entrance, Pia closed the door shut, wanting to change out of her wet robes. As she crossed to her bedroll, Pia froze. That morning, as all mornings, Pia had neatly folded her blankets and placed them on top of her sleeping mat. Now, sitting atop the stack of blankets, sat a rolled-up scroll, tied with a thin piece of cloth.

Pia froze as her stomach dropped. A heavy sick feeling came over her—the buns feeling as if they might rush back up her throat.

Dropping her sodden robe to the floor Pia picked up the roll with trembling hands. For a moment, she could only stare at it in terror. Her fingers could barely hold the scroll steady to remove the ribbon. It fell loose onto the floor forgotten as she unraveled the paper.

Her eyes scanned the paper over and over and over again. Not a single mark, no cinnabar red ink slashes or comments left. Just her own scratchy handwriting stared back at her. Her heart slammed against her chest with heavy, thudding beats that felt as if they’d break open her ribcage and fall onto the floor.

Her test paper had been returned to her. She’d failed.

Legs numb and weak, Pia collapsed to the ground, staring forward at nothing. Failed. She’d failed. Leaning over, Pia vomited everything she’d eaten, then thick bile that left her stomach and throat raw and aching.

Now what could she do? Stay in Dwelling while Fewl and Conch left? Face the shame of the entire village knowing she’d failed? Just thinking of that had her gagging again.

Pia could see it clearly in her mind.

The old ladies who sat out in town, drinking tea and gossiping.

“We always knew the orphan wouldn’t measure up. Bad blood begets bad talent. Nothing good comes from abandoned children. Unwanted children are unwanted for a reason. No good parents abandon their children.” It would go on and on, growing worse as time went on, becoming exaggerated and fanciful as the tongues wagged and the ears listened.

That would all she’d ever be. An orphan. A burden. A parasite to society. At best she’d get looks of pity, at worst sneers of mockery. Pia’s skin shivered just imagining it.

Pia wasn’t sure how long she stayed crumpled there, staring straight ahead at nothing. Numb to the world, Pia fought against the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. What could she do? What could she do? The thought repeated in her mind over and over and over until Pia felt half mad.

A rhythmic chattering sound began to fill her ears, furthering her feelings of madness.

It took her a long time to realize it was her teeth, chattering from cold. Her body ached from the cold. Stiff limbs refused to coordinate as she stood up from the ground. Legs and arms felt frozen into position, and sharp pins and needles bit into her as she forced them to move.

This can be managed. First, dry clothing, Pia told herself. Feeling disconnected from her body, Pia pushed herself to change into dry clothing, to pick up her wet clothing and hang it to dry. Her feet brushed her test paper and Pia gritted her teeth and stepped over it.

The pot she’d put on to boil was roiling on the fire. Pia went through the motions of making tea. Her icy fingers trembled as she lifted the pot. Boiling water splashed from the pot onto her hand and Pia hissed, jerking her hand away. It took a quick move to keep the whole pot from spilling.

Red blossomed across her hand where it had spilt, instantly welting. That pain forced her to think, to snap out of it. Her eyes locked onto that red spot, watching it grow over her hand. It was as if a switch flipped inside her and that burn ignited a spark in her soul.

It spread from her hand, into her veins, travelling down through her chest, until it felt as if a fire roared to life within her chest. The feeling of smoke in her lungs, being choked from within, it was as if she was burning alive.

Pia let out a harsh scream of rage. It was her dearest friend, anger. It flickered within her, stoked by the initial despair, raging to life.

Pia’s hands shook harder as that fury reached its own boiling point. How could they do this to her? Hadn’t they seen how hard she’d worked?

Their biased judging was cruel and unjust. Who were they to say she wasn’t worthy to be an apprentice?

“Fine,” Pia said aloud, voice harsh with fury. “I’ll find my own way then.”

She’d said it without thinking, needing to vent the anger and hatred growing within her. The thought stuck, and with it a seed of hope appeared.

Hadn’t she just been wishing to sprout wings and fly? Who would stop her? Pia would bet they’d be relieved to be free of her as a burden.

Pia’s brow furrowed in thought, anger abating slightly at her new train of thought.

Who said failure had to mean anything? All she had to do was make her own path in life. No one would know she’d failed. After all, Pia had no family to question her.

It stung, like vinegar in an open wound. To not make selection was shameful. She’d thought she’d done well on the test. Pia’s hands curled into fists as her thoughts turned dark.

If they didn’t want her, she’d become someone they regretted abandoning. If Pia had to carve out destiny with her own hands, she’d do it. With a sword or her fingernails, she’d find a way.

She pushed aside the doubts that instantly swam to the forefront of her mind. Having found a bit of hope, she refused to let it go.

With newfound determination Pia drank her tea to celebrate her mindset. After that, she returned to the main room. Seeing the vomit on the floor made her feel weak and ashamed. Perhaps it was petty and immature, but Pia drew a hasty fire talisman in the air and blasted the spot where she’d vomited. It burned right through the sick, down through the floor. It left a smoldering hole in the floor.

Feeling slightly better, Pia snatched the test paper from the floor, and looked at it. To fail but be given no feedback further infuriated her. Not a single comment, just a silent rejection.

Enraged, Pia drew fire yi from the fire and also burnt the paper to ash.

Then she packed all her belongings into a roll. All that she owned could be rolled into a single piece of clothing. It might’ve been depressing to another but it pleased her. All that she owned could be safely carried on her back. Truly there was nothing in the world that could hold her in one place. If no one wanted her in their part of the world, Pia would find a spot for herself to claim.

The rest of the night, Pia drank tea and stared broodingly into her courtyard as her mind spun with plans. Only after she felt she had come up with a decent enough plan did Pia settle onto her sleeping mat and rest.

The rain had finally ceased by the morning, but the long gray clouds blocked any sight of the sun. It added to the solemn mood for the day. In the light of day, Pia’s doubts returned as her confidence waned.

Hollowness filled her with a numb feeling. It felt as if her rage and hope from the night prior had abandoned her. The courtyard of Dedication did little to improve her mood. Grey and brown puddles, dead plants, and stark trees seemed only to enhance her melancholy feelings.

At midday, Pia left Dedication in search of Fewl and Conch. She knew they’d likely want to tell her about their offers. She stopped at the Yinxing household but was told Fewl was out. When she went to General Jiang’s household, one of their servants told her Conch was also out.

Pia sauntered the town, a ghost amongst the crowds, but so no sight of either boy. Looking up at the mountain towering over Dwelling, Pia had a feeling she knew where they were.

Her walk up the path to Reflection was slow as her mind churned and her heart stuttered with anxiety. She knew that her friends would be excited to tell her all about their apprenticeships.

The meadow atop Reflection was empty, only butterflies and birds soared the skies. Pia checked inside Reflection, but it too was empty. Leaning out the window on the cliff edge, Pia spotted her friends sitting further down the cliff side. Slipping out of the window Pia went to join them.

Both boys smiled wanly at her and she returned it. They shifted to the side, leaving her a space between them, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Pia dropped between them, and they shifted close.

Conch wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, saying, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“So, where to?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay neutral.

Her eyes stared out at the low hanging clouds. Most of the view of the mountain peaks was obscured through the clouds. If she looked at her friends, Pia worried her heart would break all over again.

“Dishi sect in Nianveil for me,” Conch said, sighing heavily.

“Yanhua sect in Yuehaven,” Fewl said a moment later.

She was impressed, both sects were well established and highly respected. Of the eight major sects, Dishi and Yanhua were two of the most prominent. Some of the greatest martial artists recorded in books had been from Dishi and Yanhua. Despite her own pain, Pia felt proud of her friends. She was certain they were bound for great futures.

Both boys looked at her expectantly, faces tense. They were worried. She could see it in their tight brows, set jaws, anxious eyes.

Just for one second, Pia wanted to tell them the truth. To burst into tears and tell them she failed that she had nowhere to go. To beg them to stay with her.

Instead, she made her lips curl into a stiff smile, and said, “Yinye sect and Fengye bound.”

Fewl and Conch both sagged with relief, giving her happy grins.

“Yinye is also an excellent sect,” Fewl said, giving her a warm smile.

Pia had chosen the Yinye sect for that reason. Despite Yinye not being one of the eight major sects, it had a solid reputation for training elite martial artists. It was obscure enough to not garner too much attention, but not so obscure that they’d question her word.

A bit of tension bled from her as relief hit her. At least they had bought her lie. Her heart squeezed just a bit more at her own relief for lying to her friends.

“When do you leave?” Pia asked, trying her best to match their mood.

Here their faces fell. Apprentices were quickly sent to start their training. Pia knew they were likely leaving within days. It would be like ripping off a bandage stuck to a wound—best to do it quickly to prevent a slow torture.

“In two days,” Fewl said, voice soft as he turned to look out at the clouds.

Pia looked to Conch and he nodded, saying, “Me too.”

She hesitated, wondering if it would be believable to say the same.

“You too?” Fewl asked, taking the opportunity away from her.

“Yeah,” she said softly, accepting her part in the lie.

The three fell into silence, watching the clouds drift by, as time slipped by them even as they tried to hold on tightly.

Pia spent the next two days double checking her packed items and planning. In her mind, she had only one goal: go forth into the wilderness and find her own path. Worries plagued her. Would she have enough food? How would she sleep? What if she ran into trouble? Yet, for every question and worry she came up with, a bit of excitement filled her. She didn’t have the answers, and that gave her a buzz of thrill. It would be totally unknown.

Finally, the morning of departure came, and Pia was faced with her decision. It met her head on when she met Fewl and Conch in the shrine for the last time. Fewl and Conch had pale, sad faces. Dressed in new travelling robes, wearing thick rucksack packs, they looked every bit the part of the apprentice. Pia realized she must look peculiar in her everyday training robe, carrying a cloth roll tied across her shoulders.

Guilt gnawed at her. While she hadn’t told them everything all the time, Pia had never lied to her friends. Doing so now felt like a cut to her own heart. It could be the last time she saw them for many years. Parting on a lie felt wrong, making her palms sweat from anxiety.

Each struggled with the conflicting emotions that parting gave them. Hearts heavy and hurting from parting yet filled with happy anticipation for their future training. Afterall, every martial artist and scholar dreamed of the day they’d become apprentices. Yet, for these three, parting was a sorrow they didn’t know how to express.

Suddenly, Conch leaned forward and tugged the two into an awkward hug.

“No matter where we go, I will never forget you,” he said, voice breaking with tears.

Fewl and Pia squeezed him tight. Neither of them as good at displaying emotion as Conch. Still, tears pricked their eyes, then broke free and poured down their cheeks.

“Never,” Pia swore, voice almost a sob.

“Never,” Fewl echoed fiercely.

Conch leaned against his friends, feeling his heart squeeze with every beat. The feel of Pia’s quiet sobs shaking her shoulders and the almost inaudible stutters in Fewl’s breaths were like iron knives in the gut. These two were his whole world. What was he going to do without them? What were they going to do without him? It was that thought–that his friends would struggle without him, that truly tore at him.

Slowly their arms dropped away as their tears came to an end. Still, their heads leaned together, wanting to stay connected until the last moment. Each wanted to steal and savor every moment together. Conch desperately wanted to grab them in a hug once more. To squeeze them close and never let go. Pia’s fingers twitched against her will. She wanted to reach out and touch them, to know they were still here with her at least now. Fewl breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly, forcing himself to maintain composure. He refused to think about the weight he’d feel with every step he took away from Dwelling.

Reality did not abate. The three drew apart and wiped their faces. No one wanted to break this last silence. Their last moments together with no true end to their parting in sight. They didn’t dare look at one another for fear of tears once more. So many words they wanted to say, yet none seemed right. Some seemed too final, and that was scarier than parting.

“We will write. As often as possible,” Conch swore, to which the other two nodded.

Pia bit her lips. She didn’t want to go. The thought of even taking a step away was agonizing. These were her friends, her sword sworn brothers.

“It will go quickly,” Fewl said reassuringly. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it in the moment.”

Now they were just stalling. Pia drew in a breath and forced a smile.

“I’ll try to remember you fools while I’m busy becoming an immortal,” she said loftily, tossing a braid over her shoulder.

It helped lift the mood and the boys grinned.

“We were getting dangerously sappy,” Conch agreed.

Pia nodded.

“I’m off boys. Remember my unparalleled beauty!” she said, and then before they could say anything, or worse, she burst into tears again, Pia turned and bolted from the shrine.

The two boys watched her go, faces twisted in sadness.

“I worry,” Fewl said softly.

“Me too,” Conch agreed.

Then they nodded at each other one last time and left.

The shrine box sat alone and abandoned once more.