Power Up, Artist Yang!

"Though I was set on dying, I did not die. He saved me, kept me alive on my last breath, for reasons I cannot fathom. Perhaps it would've been easier to convince an old tool than to sharpen a new one, especially after all these years. Yet my heart was set. At the first chance I had, I left," Yufeng concluded her story.

Yujia realized she had been holding her breath in anticipation towards the ending of the story. She slowly exhaled, wiping her palms against her skirt. 

Yet again, it was another past to leave her wordless.

After hearing all of it, she found no surprise in how Yufeng tried to keep her secrecy. If she, too, had experienced that, she wouldn't want to dig up the past. To tell the story again was akin to peeling back the flesh of a half-healed scar, digging at an unhealed wound, leaving it to bleed and bleed and bleed again.

When Yufeng told her story, Yujia saw a shadow of herself within Yufeng. Yufeng was so young when her story began to take that dark turn. Like Yufeng, both of them were forced to grow up faster than their times, but Yufeng perhaps more.

"How did you end up in the Yang Villa?" Yujia found herself asking.

Yufeng replied, her voice mellow, "I didn't know where to go. I wandered outside the capital for months, town by town. And then, by some mistaken encounter, I took on the name and identity of a dead girl. Xie Yufeng. It appears that taking on other names, new masks, is all I know. But it was better, I thought. Better than staying in that palace. If I wanted revenge, I should've stayed. Yet I knew if I stayed there for a second longer, I would sooner suffocate than find closure." Yufeng paused for a drawn-out moment before admitting, "I thought I was ready now. Except it seems like yet again, I wasn't."

"How can you be so sure?" Yujia thought back to how much she needed to convince Yufeng.

"If I had been truly resolute, I wouldn't have let you convince me." Yufeng sighed. They were silent. And then, Yufeng murmured, "I sometimes also wonder if revenge is necessary. I wonder if it would be better for me to move on. This doubt brings me such shame. I'm ashamed that I'm not even willing to avenge the death of my family. It makes me question myself, my every action. Back then, when I dug that knife in my heart, was it truly to avenge them? Or was it my own selfish d.e.s.i.r.e to bring an end to the grief I felt? I'm ashamed at how much grief still remains, and how much I still want it all to go away. I'm ashamed that some days, I think it would've been better if I never remembered. If I never knew their faces."

Yujia tentatively reached over and took Yufeng's hand. "I understand that. But you know, someone wise once told me it wasn't about making the grief vanish. Grief is grief. It does not go away. It doesn't ever stop being painful. But part of moving forward is accepting and acknowledging that the pain is there, not running away from it. And then, we can move forward. There are no guidelines or timelines or right or wrong ways of doing so. You have to look into yourself, and only then will you know the best way." She gave a small smile. "Those words truly helped me, back in the days. I hope still, today, they can help you."

There was more silence to let those words sink in. Then, Yufeng blurted, "So, you approve of murder as a way to move forward."

Yujia could not hold back a laugh at that joke. "Skies," she exclaimed, seeing a smile spread across Yufeng's face too. 

It seemed like those words did help, since Yufeng could make a joke like that. Yujia was glad the tensions eased.

Yufeng's smile fell a little when she spoke up again, but it was still there, tracing her expression. "Thank you. For, well, listening to me. I didn't want to tell it before, but now that I have, it feels— I'm not sure how to explain it. Somehow, better."

"Like a weight has been lifted, no?" Yujia suggested. "I often think of it like a boulder that we have to carry. No matter what we do, the weight of the past is glued with us. It won't disappear. Except you can either choose to hold onto it by itself and feel the weight, or put it up into the air and let the wind chip away at some of the stone for you. It takes courage, you might fear that the boulder will come crashing down on you, and it's not always easy to lift the weight up for others to see. But even if the breeze just sweeps a pebble, the weight feels lighter."

"That, I agree," Yufeng affirmed.

"Well then." Yujia yawned and stretched out her two hands in front of her. "Would you like to talk about something else?"

"There's nothing else in mind."

"Then, I'll try to go to sleep. Don't go around murdering while I'm asleep," she implored.

"I'll try," Yufeng replied, and this made Yujia snicker.

Yujia hoped that tonight, if she could sleep, it would be dreamless.

And dreamless it was indeed.

…

When Yujia woke up again, the sun had begun to rise. It didn't feel like she slept much, not after all the talk she had with Yufeng, but some sleep was better than none.

Now that it was daytime, Yufeng was more careful to not show her face around the camp. It wasn't like the Prince of Qing left his tent much, however, so she didn't have to worry much. However, even though Yujia didn't see the prince, by the fact that the camp was not in full panic meant that he had not been assassinated over the night. Yufeng had kept up with her agreement.

Yujia took this time to catch up with the other Lingxin disciples. Even though it had only been a few hours, she still couldn't believe how long it felt like she hadn't seen them. At this thought, she imagined what it would be like to see Zixu again, after so long. 

The idea that she would be able to see Zixu in about a week, proven that the rest of the travels went well, made Yujia inexplicably happy. She missed him so, so much.

The Lingxin disciples, like she confirmed last night, had all returned safe. There were no casualties, except for a slash across Rong Yuan's right arm, the brutal work of a bandit. It was already bandaged and taken care of, but Rong Yuan was boasting loudly to her.

"This is the result of me facing down with the leader of the bandits. I had pullen out a spare sword from another soldier and engaged in a violent battle with him to save the life of the soldier I took the sword from. But in the end, it was me who sliced that wicked bandit's head off!" he bragged.

Upon hearing this story, Yujia scoffed. "You and the leader of bandits?"

"Why are you scoffing?" Rong Yuan protested in a w.h.i.n.e. 

"Well, let's just say it's very believable." 

Ye Yunhe added in by the side, "I confirm it was just an ordinary bandit." 

"Who said?" Rong Yuan spun around in a fury. "You weren't even there!" 

"I was definitely there. Did you forget that we were all gathered together, Junior Brother?" Yunhe laughed.

"Proof? Do I seem like the type to be injured by those uneducated, weak bandits?" 

Yunhe and Yujia's eyes met, and they could not hold back their laughter. 

Rong Yuan protested more, but thankfully, Yunhe simply patted Rong Yuan's left shoulder and managed to shush that junior brother of his up. If not, Yujia imagined that Rong Yuan could go on all day long about his supposed legendary battle with the leader of bandits.

When the morning passed, and the camp was all gathered, the soldiers rounded everyone up. Off they began on their trip back.

It was good news that the soldiers had retrieved some of the belongings the bandits had stolen from the original carriages of the disciples. Most of the belongings, Yujia's included, had hardly been touched, with the bandits too busy celebrating before examining their goods.

When they made their way down the mountains, the soldiers bought a few carriages and extra horses. For people like Rong Yuan, who had experience horseback riding, they were put on horses. Yet for Yujia— who was adamantly terrified of the thought of horse riding after what Bo Zhizhong put her through back in the days— she was given a carriage.

Yujia found that the carriage, similarly, was difficult to get into. Not because of how it was built, or anything physical— rather, whenever she went to step in, she could not help recalling the bloody driver, the arrow-struck horses, and the splintered woods of the wagon. When Yufeng noticed this, she had squeezed Yujia's hand. And with that, Yujia managed to tear herself away from those flashbacks, forcing herself to stumble into the carriage.

As their journey progressed, Yujia had tried writing a letter to send to Zixu and her master. Yet a soldier informed her that they could not make any delays for that, and that they had already sent a messenger to pass the good news to the capital. So, she had to return back with her letter folded in her pocket.

Traveling with the soldiers was relieving because it meant safety and protection from the threat of bandits. Except, simultaneously, it meant a rigorous schedule of traveling, barely any time given for rest. Yujia found it unbearable in the carriage; she could only imagine how much worse it was for Rong Yuan, Yunhe, and the others, stuck on horseback from dawn to dusk.

At least the progress of the travels were fast.

…

When Yujia made her way back to the capital, she never thought she would be so relieved to recognize the city. When she stepped foot into Lingxin, it was coming home.

She could not express how many emotions it brought her, a spiral of relief, bliss, and reminiscence. Every step that she took closer to it was like another step of anticipation. The soldiers that saved them from the bandits promised safety, and Yujia did feel safe. Yet to be at home was something even that could not compare to. Nothing in the whole world could compare to how secure being home made her feel.

She recognized the flowers, the plants, the stone path, the villa walls. Lingxin had not changed during the brief time of the trip. She wondered if the people had changed too, but seeing the state of the academy, she knew it had to be all the same.

Passing through the path in a rush, Yunhe following behind her, that was when she stumbled into her master.

The old man was standing at the entrance of the villa. He wasn't drunk, like he usually would've been at this late time of day, the sun beginning to set behind the horizon. Yet with the sunlight striking his features, Yujia swore he looked thinner, his hair whiter.

It seemed like he had been standing there for a while, perhaps ever since he heard the news the disciples were returning.

He saw them the moment they saw him. He rushed forward, hobbling— had he always walked with a limp like that?— with his arms outstretched. Yujia rushed equally forward, running into his arms.

Her master clutched her, his hands trembling. And then, he pulled away, getting a good look at her face.

"Kid," he spoke first, his voice breaking with emotion, "you're back."

Yujia nodded vigorously, her face scrunching up into a smile, her eyes watering. "Yeah. I'm back. Safe."

Her master gripped her arms tighter, then turned to Yunhe. Moving to grab Yunhe, he also pulled Yunhe into a hug. "You're back too, brat." 

Yujia turned to observe Yunhe's expression. He seemed as emotional as Yujia, tears already spilling out of his eyes. "Master—" he sputtered.

"You two… Have you any idea what you've done?" The old man covered his eyes for a few seconds, then lifted his hand and looked at them, hands still trembling. "We thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead for a whole three days, and then we suddenly get news—" 

"What matters is we're all fine, right?" Yunhe cut in.

"No," their master breathed sharply, "you have no idea. You both have no idea. We got news from some desperate messenger, telling us that there had been a bandit ambush on carriages marked as Lingxin's. That it was a bloodbath. That there were no survivors. If it had been a hostage situation, we would've gotten some demand for ransom quickly, but there were none. Families— everyone— we were all prepared to begin funeral preparations. And then we suddenly get news from the military that they had saved a few disciples from the bandits, but they did not let us know how many survived. You could've been dead. You both could've been dead. But we had no clue, no information, for a week, until— now—" He choked up to the end. "I'm an old man. I'm truly too old. I can't take shocking news like this—" 

Yujia stepped forward again, helping her master stand strong. "Master, we're truly, really sorry. I had wanted to send you all letters, yet the soldiers didn't let us."

"Of course I don't truly blame you." He held up a hand. "But still," he whispered in a hoarse voice, the hand going to cover half of his face again, "I'm just… so glad you two have returned safe." 

Yujia pulled her master into a hug again, and Yunhe joined in for a group hug. 

But then, she suddenly pulled away. "Wait, Master—" she began, "you said the news from the military did not say exactly who had survived?" 

"They didn't. Can you believe how stupid that choice of theirs was? Why not let us know a number of disciples saved?" he responded, fuming.

Yujia couldn't hear the rest of her Master's rants. Her mind had trailed off, thinking of Zixu. Yu Zixu. If her master didn't know that she had survived, Zixu didn't either…

Zixu didn't know that she was alive.

Stumbling back, Yujia backed away, her head shaking. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

"Where? Oh—" her master replied.

Yujia did not capture what he had to say next. She had already spun around, dashing in the direction of Lingxin's front gates. 

Her heart was thudding. She passed by those walls, those paths, those plants, those flowers…

And then, she saw him.

Zixu was standing at the front gates of Lingxin, lingering with his head looking down, the last rays of sunlight enough to illuminate the features of the face Yujia had missed so much. He looked the same as before. He still held a hand behind his back. He still had his head partially tilted, as if in thought. He still wore his robes ever-so-neatly, his hair tucked in a similar fashion.

Her footsteps stopped in front of him. 

He looked up.

His eyes scanned across her face, taking her in. He was tentative, wary at first, as if she would disappear if he looked too much. But she was still there, standing, her lips partially curled up in a warm smile, yet slightly parted, out of breath from how fast she ran.

They did not need to exchange any words.

Zixu reached out, grabbing her and pulling her against him. She buried her face into his shoulder, closing her eyes. Her arms wrapped around his back, holding him. Making sure he was really there. With his other hand, he had reached up, gently cradling her head. He, too, was assuring himself that she was really there.

There were so many words that she wanted to tell him. There were so many things that she wanted to say, so many things that she could say.

Yet in the end, all she could force out was the breath of a whisper, letting his name roll off her tongue. 

"Zixu."

He, too, replied in such a manner, his voice soft. 

"Yujia."