Catching Nian

In a matter of minutes, Ming was rescued from the basement of the village chief’s house where he’d been hidden for the past day. The reunion was nothing like Geriel expected. Then again, she should not have expected tears and wails from Jun Rui Ning or her brother.

“Took you long enough,” said Ming to his sister. Rui Ning was in the process of checking her brother’s limbs for cuts or bruises. She stopped, crossing her arms indignantly.

“I should’ve left you there for longer then,” she said, “since it was such a comfortable experience for you. Lazing around, eating in bed, flirting with your friend—”

Ming held a finger up. “Not true. I also played a game of chess with her, which took up a lot of my energy.”

Rui Ning scoffed. Then she wrapped her arms around her brother. “Spoiled brat.”

“You’re the one spoiling me.” The boy smiled, tears forming in his eyes, and buried his face in his sister’s shoulder.

Not wanting to interrupt this familial scene, Gerial slipped out of the Jun house and into the front yard. Further down the street, she could imagine a very different kind of scene playing out at the village chief’s house, where mother and daughter were probably trying to figure out life without their husband and father. Come morning, the village chief and Master Yuan would be transported to the city, where they would be tried at a court. A crime like this would earn them at least five years in prison.

Five years without a father, or a husband. It was easier for Yuan, since he lived alone. But Geriel remembered the haunted look in Hui Yan’s eyes when the girl had finished her story. It was the kind of look one wore when they realise the fate they’ve doomed another to.

“Worried about your money, huntress?” said a light voice.

Rui Ning joined Geriel on the porch, her usual smirk on her face. Except now she seemed ten times happier. Geriel was glad to see it.

“Don’t worry.” Rui Ning winked. “I’ll make sure they pay you in full.”

Geriel shook her head. “It’s not the money I’m worried about.”

“I know.” Rui Ning looked out at the street. “I’m worried about them, too. But then I think about their lies, and what they put my family through, and I… I can’t feel sorry for them anymore.”

Hui Yan had told them how her father lied about finding Ming unconscious outside the toymaker’s, and that he’d taken the boy home to recover. He’d said it was Hui Yan’s “very special task” to nurse Ming back to health before they sent him home, and the girl, all too happy to have a companion, believed him.

“Does that make me cruel?” said Rui Ning. She stared into Geriel’s eyes as though she’d find the answer there.

But the huntress simply said, “Do you care if others think you’re cruel?”

Rui Ning blinked, then let out a soft laugh. “No. No, I suppose I don’t.”

Geriel didn’t think she would, either.

“There’s one more thing I don’t understand,” the huntress said. “Didn’t Ming realise something was wrong? When he was in the basement?”

Rui Ning shook her head. “Not at first. The chief hit Ming’s head pretty badly, so he couldn’t think straight. But he knew something was off when Hui Yan and her mother kept insisting he stayed. That’s why he asked to play a round of chess with her. If he won, she’d have to let him go.”

“And the girl agreed? What if she lost?”

Rui Ning snorted. “She wouldn’t have. Ming’s terrible at chess. He only said that to buy me time.” She glanced at Geriel. “To buy us time.”

“He knew you would come for him.”

Rui Ning nodded.

“You’re a good sister.”

“Oh?”

“And a good daughter.”

“Stop complimenting me, huntress. It’s unnatural.”

“But it’s true.” Geriel stepped closer to her. “And I’m sorry for doubting you.”

Rui Ning waved a hand. “I doubted you, too, so we can call it even. And besides…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a good daughter, too,” she said quietly. “No matter what they said.”

Open, Geriel realised. Her gaze is more open now. That’s what changed about Rui Ning. Where before there were suspicion and secrets, her eyes now held a new warmth, one that made Geriel mourn the thought of leaving ZhuangXi.

She could always visit again, of course. Geriel was a wanderer after all.

“I think I might go back to the Steppes,” said the huntress. “Pay my village a visit.”

Rui Ning raised her left eyebrow, the singed one. Not an imperfection, thought Geriel. Beautiful.

Just like the rest of her.

“I’ve never been to the Steppes,” said Rui Ning. She was smiling now; they both were. “I heard it’s terribly boring.”

“Not at all. There’s plenty of cattle. They’re stubborn creatures, so you’d feel right at home.”

She laughed. Slowly, her smile faded. “Perhaps… you could take me for a visit someday.”

Geriel didn’t know when she’d learned to read the other girl so well, but she knew exactly what Rui Ning meant. Someday, she’d said, because she couldn’t go now. Not when she was the parent to Ming that her father couldn’t be. Someday, she’d said, the word too soft to be a promise, yet strong enough for hope. And Geriel was surprised to find hope blooming in her chest—hope that one day, she would show Rui Ning the only place she called home.

“Perhaps,” said Geriel.

Rui Ning looked down at her feet before meeting Geriel’s eyes again. “I should draw you a map before you leave, in case you can’t find ZhuangXi again.”

As if I could ever forget the way to you, thought Geriel.

“You mock me,” she said. “I’m a wanderer. I have no need for maps.”

Five Years Later

The last time Geriel saw ZhuangXi, it was grey as winter, covered in layers of snow. Now, spring transformed the town. Everywhere she looked was a burst of bright colour—red rooftops, blue skies, cherry blossoms littering the ground. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the bustle of merchants and townspeople.

As Geriel stood before the house at the end of JuHua street, she wondered if it still belonged to the Jun family. Sure, there were machines and prototypes on the lawn that could only belong to the inventors, but what if Rui Ning didn’t live there anymore? What if she stayed with her husband and their children, in a house outside of ZhuangXi? So much could happen in the span of five years.

Like reuniting with the family that drove you away.

A rush of warmth flooded Geriel’s heart at the thought. Not because the reunion went particularly well (the first few days were filled with awkward silences), but because there even was a reunion at all. Before she met Rui Ning, Geriel would never even dream of going home after her family disowned her. Now she’d stayed with them for half a year, and though there was less affection between them than before, her mother had cried when Geriel left home for the second time.

Five years ago, I came to ZhuangXi as an exiled wanderer, mused Geriel. Now I’m here as a wanderer by choice.

After months of living with her family, Geriel soon discovered that domestic life wasn’t meant for her. The need to travel had tugged at her heart. She longed for strange cities and distant lands. Why remain in the Northern Steppes when a whole world awaited her?

So she had packed her bags, saddled her horse and resumed her travels. She’d seen endless oceans and sprawling deserts, climbed mountains, trekked forests. She’d spent enough nights sleeping on uncomfortable surfaces that she’d learned to fall asleep anywhere. Tasted enough foods to know that she’d always prefer her father’s chanasan makh. And every time she charted a new course, her hand always strayed towards that little dot on her map: ZhuangXi.

Now here she was.

In the courtyard of the Jun household, a woman slid out from beneath a half-built carriage. She held a hammer in her hand, dark hair bound in a braid. Even from a distance, Geriel could see the patch on the woman’s left eyebrow that was lighter than the rest.

It was as though no time had passed at all. That face, Geriel thought. It hasn’t changed from the one I see in my dreams.

The woman stood, brushing dirt off her garments. She froze when she caught sight of the Northerner.

Silence formed in the air between them, in which Geriel racked her brain for something to say. She cursed herself. I should’ve written a letter before showing up unannounced. She might not remember me. She—

“It’s a carriage,” Rui Ning said abruptly. Not the first words Geriel expected her to say, but she would take it.

“I can see that.”

“It’s supposed to be faster than any carriage ever made. The governor commissioned us to make it.”

“Oh.” Geriel couldn’t think of anything else to say. She’d rehearsed this moment in her head many times, so why was her mind going blank now?

“My point is,” said Rui Ning, her hands tightening on her skirt. “I need to test it. On a long journey, preferably. Before handing it over to the governor.”

Geriel crossed into the lawn, put a hand on the carriage. “The Steppes are quite a distance from here.”

“Yes.” Rui Ning drew closer, her eyes fixed on the Northerner. “I would need a companion. Someone who’s familiar with travelling.”

“And you’re not bringing anyone with you?” said Geriel. “Not your brother or…husband?”

Rui Ning laughed. “No one wants to marry a mad woman, Geriel,” she said, and five years melted away in the warmth of her smile.

Geriel’s heart swelled. She’d always thought that being a wanderer meant she would spend the rest of her days alone. But Geriel knew that even in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, just as stars once a year brush the earth.

Perhaps Rui Ning could be such a soul.

Geriel took the inventor’s hand. “Well then, Mad Woman, can I be your guide?”

Rui Ning grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”