Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"No."

"What the hell do you mean, 'no'?" 

Yi had recovered fairly well over the past four years. His legs worked fine, he could eat, drink, and breathe like any normal Solarian, and his mind was sharper than ever. He'd even submitted a paper on an improvement he could make to the Rhizomatic Stabilizer in his chest that would make the electrical pulse more consistent and almost invisible to the wearer. He'd tried the fix himself to great results. KYRI loved it, and he'd been getting enough letters in his mail from them to fuel a small country for a year. 

Of course, that meant his parents knew everything about Eigong's scholarship.

"Do you honestly think you're just going to go off to university and change everything, Yi?" his mother questioned. She wore simple clothes, an undyed and extremely modest dress that highlighted her blisteringly white fur quite well. Despite the fact her vision was terrible, she was so plain and devoted as a Taoist that she refused to wear glasses. Yi admitted he admired the effort, even if it was dedicated to total insanity. "I mean, they have tried for hundreds of years and accomplished nothing. The supposedly advanced nations of Jie and Yumin do nothing but war with each other, and look at our homeland of Xia, where we haven't had a war for over 200 years. All because of tradition, Yi, don't you understand?"

Yi glanced over at his sister, whose hand was stretched across her forehead. Heng knew this argument was about to get heavy. Might as well prove her right, Yi thought.

"They get nothing done because of Solarians like you who hold them back, mother," he seethed. "And yes, I think I could change everything."

"How do we hold them back when we do nothing?" she smirked. "It sounds like they're holding themselves back from your so-called 'utopia'."

"I've said it a thousand times, just because a fish is dead doesn't mean it doesn't weigh down the net," Yi rebutted. "You're the dead fish, you and every miserable Taoist in this village," he snapped. He gestured vaguely toward his father, who was looking down at the bowl in front of him. He was still wearing his groundskeeper uniform, and he noted the tinge of dirt under his nails and the callouses on his hands. His job paid him fairly well, but Yi remembered how he always resented how the ecology researchers from KYRI got huge grants to do research at his park while his paycheck hadn't changed for the past ten years. 

His father looked up at him now. "Don't you dare talk to your mother—"

"I'll talk to her however I want," Yi scoffed. "I'm an adult, I should be able to—"

"I don't think you get to call yourself an adult after what you did," his father glared. "Lear, wannabe scientists like you put everyone in danger!"

"Who have I put in danger?" Yi glared in return.

His mother just laughed. "You don't know? You really don't know?" she guffawed. "Exactly what I expected, you're so, so, ignorant! Your sister! You! Everyone in this village heard the blast, and I'm just sure you're waiting to cause some giant accident so you can blame the entire village—"

"You'd all be killed by your own stupidity," Yi interrupted. "Not mine." 

His father shot him the deadliest look he had in months. Yet, he made the odd (yet typically Taoist) move of saying nothing.

"Yi, we're just trying to protect you," she smiled, her tone flipping around completely.

Yi scoffed again. "From who?"

"Yourself, for one,"

"Already failed that," Yi commented.

Yi's mother made a sharp noise with her throat and cleared it. "And secondly, every bastard out there who wants to corrupt you with this idea you can actually change your fate. All comes from the Way and returns to the Way, and I'll tell you right now that Way didn't come out of a university lab," she remarked. 

"I'm alive because of a university lab. Would you rather me be dead?" Yi snapped.

She paused, because for some reason his mother had to consider this question. Yi noticed that his father gave her a cautionary glance, and his entire face shifted from malice to genuine fear. Nothing seemed to change about Heng.

"If the Tao willed it, then—"

Yi slammed his fist on the table, causing a few glasses to rattle slightly. "I don't give a fuck what the Tao thinks, do you wish I was dead?"

The entire room went silent. His father's glare had shifted onto his mother now. He clearly wanted her to respond for the sake of the dinner. Or for the sake of his son not abandoning them, which he was clearly about to. His mother said nothing.

"You know what?" Yi asked. "Your silence gives me my answer. You'll be rid of me in a day," he affirmed.

He stood up from the table and walked away, not paying any mind to his mother's sudden lack of silence. He went into his room, shut the door, and started to pack, listening to his mother's plight with the door closed. First thing in the morning he'd have a train ticket to KYRI and an unpleasant note he'd leave on the fridge. They didn't deserve anything but. They wanted him dead. They'd get that without it actually happening. Win-win, Yi figured.

"Would you let me talk to him? Alone?" he could hear his father ask, his voice muffled through the solid wood door to Yi's room.

Yi got his trunk out from under his bed. He had one from that time his family traveled overseas to Ying once. They were semi-functional then, Yi thought. Mostly fine with a few spats over Yi's reading habits. That was just because it got in the way of tourism, not because his mother believed it would cast him into a bloody fate someday. 

"No! If he confronts you then he confronts both of us, he has to, he has to see," his mother shrieked. Her voice got shaky as she finished the sentence, and he could nearly see her reaching for the incense she'd left in a case. She would be praying all night, and Yi knew it.

"Do you think he actually wants to talk to you now?" his father questioned. 

"I was only saying—"

"You only said what was easy for you to say, not what he actually needed to hear. He's not going to change his mind, you could at least be kind about it."

His father was right about that. He wouldn't change his mind. 

"I said what I should have, and nothing more," his mother tried to justify. 

No, you didn't, at all, Yi thought. They should have been prouder of him, he thought. The first out of his village to really do something with his life and they were telling him to shove it. He threw some clothes into the trunk. 

"You're his mother, and I'm his father, and we both tried our best," he sighed. "But sometimes you need to give up on the way you think the Way acts and start understanding it may have chosen a different path for him," he explained. 

Yi didn't like how rational his father sounded. If there was a Way, it sure wanted him to get the hell out of Xia. It wanted him to be the Solarian he really was, not some Taoist cardboard cutout. He thought for a moment and realized that in all odds, it was just Yi that wanted to leave and there was never a Way to begin with. 

"No, Yi picked that path for himself and all he'll find is suffering. If I have to keep him from that so help me Lear..."

"It didn't stop the first accident! What do you think is going to happen if you keep hounding him, fewer experiments without adults nearby to keep him alive?" his father snapped.

"I think it'll stop the experiments altogether, he just has to learn." 

There was a deafening silence between the two. He heard his father's unmistakable sigh and a pair of footsteps to his door. His father didn't bother knocking before he entered. Yi caught a glimpse of his mother's teary, yet strangely crazy looking eyes before his father shut the door behind him. 

"I'm sorry."

Yi said nothing and kept packing. Try again, he thought.

His father sighed again after a few more seconds of silence. "Do you think I like talking like that every night?"

"Yes, actually," Yi fumed. He could swear he'd been through the same argument about fifteen times since the accident.

"Don't—" his father started, catching himself as the shouting was about to begin. He took a breath, his hands reaching up and down as air rushed through his nose. "I know that the accident wasn't your fault. It wasn't even because you're trying to become a scientist, it was probably going to happen at some point regardless, just... We get worried."

"You get angry. You don't get worried," Yi rebuked. "Also, you said it was my fault out there, which is it?"

"I went along with your mother because she'd kill me if I didn't," he said.

Selfish fuck, Yi thought, not daring to say it aloud. "Okay, but you could have at least said—"

"I don't want you dead," he interrupted. "I might not say it, but you're probably the person who I least want dead in my life along with your sister and my wife, in that order."

"Okay, that's a start," Yi replied. He continued to pack. His father was still right, nothing would change his mind about leaving, including his father's obviously artificial sympathy for him.

His father sat down on Yi's bed. "Do you know why I've always been worried about you getting into science?"

Because you're a prejudiced piece of shit, Yi seethed. "Because you believe the people who keep you employed are assholes?" Yi questioned. He'd heard his dad complain about it a thousand times before, it was worth a shot.

His father gave a dismal snort. "You're telling me, but there's something else."

"What could it possibly be?" 

"It's because I'm constantly watching them fail in their passions and it makes them miserable," he answered. He sat down at the foot of his bed. "Did I ever tell you about my buddy Zhi?"

"No," Yi dismissed. He kept packing.

"Zhi was a brilliant man. Kind of reminded me of you, just as smart as he was horribly stubborn," he explained. "But he was obsessed with finding a way to revive a dead songbird species that he always said would improve the local ecology. He had a lot of the science to back him, I'd know, but he was never able to get it right. He made attempt after attempt, abomination after abomination. He spiraled hard. I still remember the look on his face and the heavy wine smell on him the day before he quit," he shivered. Yi noticed his eyes get distant. He cleared his throat. "Anyways he was miserable. I... won't tell you how that story ended, but just know we have a small plaque for him on one of our groundskeeper inns."

"So? I'm not trying to raise the dead, I'm trying to stop it from happening, or at the minimum slow it down," Yi replied. He wasn't going to wind up dead because of one of his projects. That sounded like Zhi's fault.

"What's the difference? You're just stalling the inevitable," his father sighed. "I..." He trailed off.

Yi kept packing all the while, ignoring his father on his bed. His father looked at him.

"I'm not going to stop you."

"Good," Yi said, much louder than he intended. His father did that sharp inhale again to keep his temper in check.

"If you genuinely believe this is what you're destined for, then go for it," his father commented. "I'm not going to get in the way of the Tao, though I doubt you care about that or even believe in it at all. But I'm not going to," he expanded.

"Again, good," Yi continued. He was latching the trunk. His father interrupted him before he could close the last latch.

"On one condition."

Yi looked up at him. "Shoot," he implored. It was halfway sarcastic in the sense that he'd probably rather be shot than comply with what his father had to say. 

"You don't stop talking to us. It was bad enough while you were in a coma, and— for your sake— you don't want your mother angrier with you than she already is."

"Sure," Yi agreed. I'll talk to Heng. You'll get a few calls. Mom will get none, Yi thought. He always felt bad when Heng had to get caught in the crossfire of this stuff, besides, Heng would probably bother to reach out anyways. He'd call her.

"Great, then it's settled," his father remarked. He stood up from the foot of the bed. "Yi, I... I can't apologize enough. I lashed out."

Don't bother apologizing, you don't mean it, Yi thought. He noticed the look in his father's eyes again, quiet, tired, and slightly glassy. Yi had seen his father look at him with those eyes a million times before. It was a look he always had on his face when he tried so desperately to be sympathetic. When he tried to win his son back over to his side after years and years of failure. Yi thought he was nuts for trying it again. He didn't reply.

"Actually, there are two rules," his father commented as his back was turned. "Don't start drinking constantly. That was Zhi's favorite activity before we made that plaque."

"Sure," Yi said again. This was also a lie, but he'd certainly avoid drinking when it could cloud his judgment. I'll just do it privately like you, he thought.

He closed the last latch of his trunk and set it where his father had been sitting. Half of him didn't want to go back to the dining room, and the other half did out of spite for his mother, who was still sitting and mumbling something Yi couldn't understand. He looked at Heng, who was still eating like she was before. Yi was almost scared of it. She had no reaction after the first couple of fights they had, either retreating somewhere in her head or she'd become so used to it that it was all part of her natural flow of life. 

He saw his father whisper something to his mother, and she stopped muttering.

"You're letting him? Are you kidding me, you're letting him!" she chided. "I sent you in there to talk some sense into him, and all you did was encourage..." she kept ranting, but paused to walk over to a counter top where a letter from KYRI sat. She grabbed it and waved it in the air. "Encourage this!" she finished.

"If I might chime in," Yi started from across the room. Both parents looked at him. He could swear he saw Heng chuckle slightly. "His encouragement was saying it was fine and he'd rather me not be dead right now."

"Well isn't that nice," his mother replied. "Just... just perfect."  She threw her hands up into the air and started retreating to her room.

"Honey, wait, I— okay, she's gone. Fuck," his father swore, throwing his hands in the air just like his wife. "If you could excuse me for a second, both of you, I'd like to have a private discussion with your mother about this," he addressed. He gestured to "go outside". Heng stood up from the table, taking a final sip of wine from her cup. Heng had brewed it herself.

"Sure, dad," Heng smiled. She looked over at Yi and gestured the same. Yi sighed and followed her. Before they managed to get out the door they heard the shouting match begin between their parents. It felt blase now. Yi couldn't remember a night in the past month where this didn't happen. Yi gave his sister a knowing look as Heng's subtle smile faltered. They both stepped outside and shut the front door of the house behind them. 

They could still hear the sound of the argument. It was just muffled now, the shrill voice of Yi's mother and the deep, angry tones of his father created a distant cacophony. 

"I don't get it," Yi opened. "I'm just trying to make things better. Make fewer friends and neighbors die of Tianhuo. Make your life and theirs one worth living."

Heng sat down on the steps. So did Yi. "I don't get it either, Yi," she agreed. "It's inevitable you'd have been accepted there with or without the accident," she said. "I just wish we could actually talk for once. As a family. Maybe it's in the cards, maybe it isn't."

"I thought you knew stuff about the future," Yi remarked. "Visions or something, you should be able to tell if it is."

"I just hear the roots. They've been quiet lately, almost like... guilt?" she explained. "I can't explain it without sounding crazy to you so I won't try," she resigned. She looked away from him.

"Heng, you know I think of you differently from the others, you're... genuine," Yi said. "You actually believe in the Tao and all that stuff because you really do. Not because you want to believe or you want to keep up the part like Mom does."

"But you still disagree," Heng replied.

"And I always will, but you're just more special than them. You can explain it to me and I won't care if it sounds crazy or not, I'll listen to you anyways because you're my sister," he said. He jokingly rubbed the top of her head like he would when they were younger and mocking each other.

She sighed. "The roots get quiet every time you're around them. Like they feel guilty for almost killing you and also don't feel the need to say anything after they saved your life. Even the words they whisper to me are quieter now. It's like they're all waiting for something to happen and I'm scared of what, and they won't tell me anything," she explained.

"So they don't talk to you anymore?" Yi asked. Maybe the voices in her head got knocked out of her in the accident, he figured.

"They're just quieter. I feel like they've lost interest in me somehow," she sighed. "But I guess that's the Way for you. The roots ebb and flow. Solarians ebb and flow. So do their bonds. It's not up to us whether we lose them or not," she shrugged.

"It's up to us if we fight about it, though," Yi replied. 

Heng rubbed her forehead. "I... I somehow hope it is. I know it's not true but I hope it is."

"Hey, there are benefits to my point of view too. We're accountable to ourselves. We can change," Yi said. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Also, I guarantee that the roots didn't abandon you. You'll probably find them again just because I never could," he chuckled.

"Right. Just like those columns. As long as you understand them, I probably never will, Yi," she said.

They didn't speak for a while, just sat on the stoop and listened to the wildlife— whose sounds had gotten quieter as of late. Their parents' argument filled the gaps.

"It's circled back around already," Heng noticed. 

"What?"

"Them," she said, flicking her head toward the verbal maelstrom happening behind the door. Yi had no clue how she managed to get any meaning out of the muffled sounds. "They always start the argument in a new way but it always circles back to the same thing every time."

"How... how can you tell?" Yi asked. He was a miracle for certain, but if there was anyone who should be getting examined it was her. She once picked up the sound of a Jie weather aircraft from miles away before anyone else could hear it. Heng said it was the roots, but Yi was convinced she had some type of unexplained hearing boost. Like the kind the blind merchant had except Heng could still see.

"It's their voices. They always sound the same by the end. They're tired of this."

"And by 'this' you mean me, right?" Yi scoffed. 

"No. Me too. They're tired of each other. That's what's in their voices. Exhaustion," she mused. Her eyes got distant and that vacant smile came back to her face. "I guess we're all tired, aren't we?"

"You tell me," Yi replied. "You know why I spent all those nights awake? It was because I'm still neurotic about getting into KYRI. Like I still have to try to get in when they were already blown away."

"You have a scholarship," Heng reminded him. "Just accept you'll be able to get in and try to get some rest at some point. I can see it in your eyes."

Rest? Yi asked. He'd be lucky if he slept for an hour. He'd be leaving in the morning. "You know I'm—"

"You're leaving?" Heng asked rhetorically. "I felt you'd be leaving today ever since you talked with Eigong."

Yi was surprised at how serene she looked about it. She was the only person in this place Yi would miss, and over time that turned into him worrying over whether or not she'd finally lash out at him, blame him for everything, and leave him for dead in front of his house to return to her parents' arms. Her parents that were more like her than Yi was to them.

"You know I don't have a problem with it, right? I agree with what dad said. If this is your Way then you have to follow it. If it isn't, like you said, you should follow it anyways," Heng explained. "If there's anyone who might be on a path to stopping all of this," she said, gesturing to the world around her. Yi noticed a small patch of the terminal flowers next to the home where his neighbor had been buried. "It's probably you, big brother."

The sound of his parents arguing vanished as the words left her mouth.

Yi twitched. It was all he could do from breaking down then and there. He wiped the underside of his eyes with his sleeve. Why he was nearly weeping, he wasn't sure. There was no reason. He'd finally be rid of his parents and most of the Taoists who had plagued him for years. But knowing he'd lose Heng, especially after that "big brother" comment felt like an arrow through the chest. Even if it was just for a few days before he called her, the thought disquieted him.  

Yi stood up and cleared his throat, hoping Heng didn't notice the kind of state he was in. He knew she did.

"I'm going to take your advice. I'm going to try and sleep tonight," he said, the last word choking him. He coughed, and he noticed the flecks of blood staining his white fur. "Thanks."

"For?" Heng asked. She glanced at his arm. "Also, take your meds."

"For talking like a reasonable person," he said. It was the highest compliment Yi could pay her without keeling over. He got one last look at her placid expression, and thought she was the world's only living proof that Taoists could be happy with their lives. Everything about her was a still as a lake yet with thoughts as powerful and caring as a sun. He thought again about leaving her while he was at university.

It'll hurt. That's for sure.

He went back inside and could feel the air stagnate instantly. His parents were silent, but there was this invisible residue of resentment and hate that hung in the air. The door to his parents room was shut, but he could still smell the incense coming from her mother's altar. That smell mixed with an unpleasant disinfectant smell coming from somewhere else— someone else— in the room. 

Based on the scents, Yi knew he didn't want to reignite things. He just slunk into his room and quietly shut the door.

"Meds," he reminded himself. He reached for a small orange bottle filled with dissolving tablets that he'd set aside. He looked at the medication label just to make sure.

—TRANEXAMINE—

It was the right stuff, and he could tell by the stupid but catchy name. He took a bottle of water and tossed two of the tablets in, turning the liquid a fluorescent teal as the blended medication dissolved. He downed the entire bottle.

Almost instantly he felt better. This was for two reasons. His lungs weren't bleeding anymore, and every pain receptor in his body was numbed. He felt utterly great. All of his issues vanished in the face of Tranexamine. His parents' argument vanished from his head. The fear of his sister vanishing from his life vanished too. All of his worries turned into a pale blue mist, and only Yi remained. The real, unfiltered, and for once happy Yi. He looked again at the bottle, and noticed the doctor's name under the label.

—PRESCRIBED BY DR. LIÈSHÌ EIGONG—

He stared up at the ceiling in utter bliss.

"Thanks."

Chapter Text

The first thing Yi noticed was how cold the train was. 

He was surprised to find out that the oversea train line going from Xia to Ying wasn't heated. The inside of the car was sleek and modern, obviously designed by Ying craftsmen rather than Xia ascetics. When he sat down in his seat the padding contoured around him perfectly, and there were several amenities like foldout tables and cup holders integrated into the furniture. The digital displays showing the next stops were stylized to perfection, minimalist yet evocative of the old masters like Yin Jifu. Yi had studied their styles for years alongside their technology in some effort to revive it, and he thought it was brilliant all the way through. What wasn't brilliant was how the Ying engineers forgot to put in a heater. Yi shivered. He'd been on this train for what felt like a day passing through a solid part of Chan, and he was frozen solid.

He looked around at the Solarians around him, who seemed totally unbothered by that fact. This meant that the second thing he noticed was how odd the stranger next to him looked.

It wasn't so much the way the stranger was dressed that alerted Yi to them, even if their clothing certainly wasn't for the cold of the train. Yi easily identified their outfit as being styled after the Turbulent Era Jie. Extremely revealing, yet extremely traditional all at once. The look had been coming back as of late, and Yi only knew this because of how his parents (meaning his mother) would constantly refer to some of the youth as looking like "concubines". Their jade-painted nails were long enough to stab through Yi's chest and come out the other side, but they still looked in line with the times. A typical priest's cap sat on their head. Frankly, nothing was particularly clear about the stranger. Their gender, age, face, even their height seemed to fluctuate with each time Yi looked at them, like an image distorted by flame.

No, what made Yi feel the stranger was odd was the look on their face. Their eyes were closed but they clearly weren't asleep. Their head would tilt and nod like they were holding some internal conversation, speaking with a friend Yi could neither see nor comprehend. A thin smile would cross their face, then they would return to pure, uncaring neutrality. Normally Yi would chalk this up to some kind of substance, but there wasn't so much as an unusual twitch or slump from the stranger. Just pure, unrestricted introspection. 

Yi shook his head and looked away. What the hell do you do for a living ?

"I'm a fortune teller," the stranger replied, straightening themselves up. "I set up shop outside of the Institute some time ago."

Yi nearly jumped out of his seat. "How the—"

"I have a way of guessing when people inquire about me, even if they don't say it," they said. "I apologize if I interrupted your train of thought, my friend."

I'm not your friend , Yi thought. He looked over at the stranger. "No, you didn't interrupt anything. One has to ask when you're dressed like a Jie prostitute," Yi remarked, a little too blunt. He avoided the specific word his mother used and opted for the unfiltered one.

A grin crossed the stranger's face. "A strangely perceptive phrase," the stranger commented. "I do get inspiration from Jie. But my hat comes from Kunlun, my jewelry from Shang, and my nails done a few doors down from you. I am nothing if not a lover of variety."

Yi raised an eyebrow. "How do you know where I live? Is that fortune telling or stalking?"

"I'm... perceptive," the stranger commented, rolling their wrist. They said nothing more for a while. Yi looked at the chlorine-blue ocean that surrounded them, noticing the waves crashing against the titanium supports for the train. He figured this Solarian was completely insane, drugs or otherwise. No one claims to be able to tell fortunes without substantiating it at all. Even if this one could tell where he lived based on something he didn't get— maybe a speck of dirt on his clothes or drop of color in his eyes— they were insane to believe they could predict the future. 

But as a true man of science, Yi wouldn't rule it out until it was proven.

But how do you prove if someone can tell your fortune? They're usually so vague that anything they say can become true , Yi examined. It has to be a multi-year procedure, for sure , he reasoned. Yi figured he couldn't ask for something too soon. He also couldn't ask them about something too far away. His time in college fit the bill nicely. Write down everything they say with perfect accuracy to make sure to see if it comes true. But you'll have to coax them into saying something specific, like a time of day or name or event. That would prevent the it-always-comes-true factor. 

He realized that writing would also let him make sure to keep track, every day of his life, of whether or not the alleged fortune teller was crazy. He would relish in the process. It would be his little pet project. He finally settled on his strategy and spoke. 

"Perceive my future, then," Yi requested. 

"Why? I can tell a man of your virtues doesn't listen to wise mystics like myself," the stranger mused. The way they emphasized "wise" came off as strangely sardonic.

"To prove myself right," Yi replied. "That you're totally and utterly insane."

The stranger looked forward for a moment to consider. "Agreed. I'll tell your fortune," the stranger chuckled. "I'll even play by what I think are your rules. Within the next four years, specific events, and I'll even mail you a transcription so you can make sure it's right."

How did you realize those are my rules? Yi wondered. He must have had some small tells in his gestures. Obviously, he was on his way to the university and he looked young enough to be a first-year, so that could be deduced naturally. The stranger had already clocked him for a man of reason and not superstition, so the specificity made sense. And the mail probably came with a nice business card attached asking for future visits. Yes, it could all be boiled down to simple logic. No bullshit.

Yi smirked. "Good. Let's start, then. What are you gonna do, read my palms?"

The stranger smirked in return. "Palm reading is an art of yesteryear, and I only use the best in fortune-telling technology," they rebutted. They weren't really making a sales pitch, but they were certainly aping one. The stranger reached into a bag beneath them and procured what Yi recognized as an unbelievably ornate armillary sphere.  Despite how psychotic the stranger was in believing they could ordain the future from it, it was still amazingly well-constructed. Yi doubted he could make something that ornate if he was given five hundred years. The stranger loosened a few screws and set the concentric rings into place. Then, they tightened everything up and looked directly at Yi. "I will begin now. How far ahead would you like me to go?"

"Everything notable in the next four years, like you said," Yi requested. He leaned back. This was good entertainment if anything. "Also, great build on the sphere," Yi had to add, pointing at it.

"Thank you, it's antique," the stranger replied. The stranger straightened up their hat and cleared their throat.  Their eyelids flew open to reveal two milky gray spheres that took on the same shade as the clouds above. Undoubtedly, the fortune teller was blind, but their steely gaze could blast straight through Yi. Their appearance made him shiver.

Immediately the sphere was set in motion as the rings accelerated, the instrument humming as the stranger seemed to attune to it. There was a distinct green spark in their eyes that lit up as the rings moved, spinning around a smaller sphere that represented Penglai. It accelerated more, hummed more, all the while the stranger looked so deep inside Yi that he was afraid he'd lose a few more organs just by their beam. Yi shrunk back as the stranger tilted their head at him, then smiled, then frowned, then tilted their head the other way, then snapped it straight forward. Yi could swear every sound on the train stopped as the stranger looked deeper and deeper, their eyes getting greener and greener— or was it a trick of the light? 

Yi saw, for a split second, a black field of some kind forming around the sphere. As soon as he was able to perceive it, it snapped to a halt with a resonant bong. The stranger's eyes shut instantly. The world around him was nearly silent, though he could see the mouths of the others around him moving like they were still talking. Was he that focused on this jackass that the world seemed to stop for them? 

"I see now," the stranger echoed. Sound returned to the world as the words left their mouth. 

"What do you see?" Yi asked. He was still shrunken back into the seat, vaguely afraid the stranger might open their piercing eyes again.

"At some point in the next four years, these things will happen to you in this precise order. Now I will ask you, are you prepared to hear the unstoppable truth of your future?" 

"Yes," Yi entertained. He half expected the stranger to pull out a waiver saying he wasn't liable for anything he said. Yi leaned back forward.

"You will see two people on your first day at KYRI. Both will change your outlook on Penglai. Both will like you the first time they meet you and you'll grow with both until their paths diverge. One shall transform into a tragic lover, who shall be by your side for the next four years— though I believe it shall be far longer. The other shall become a grave traitor who shall undo everything you will slave over in that same time. Who it is is unknown to me until you make an infinitely small choice today that will set your future alight, as your soul splits between paths that make no difference to you. You will see your lover somewhere along the first path you pick, and along the second you'll see the traitor, this I know. You'll realize— well, you'll suspect — who it is at a funding ball for Tianhuo research."

Yi paused to consider if this was good enough. Vague, yet more specific than he expected. He could validate it in four years, probably even before that if he was smart enough. That Tianhuo research thing was a kicker in terms of how detailed it was. Somehow, Yi was still suspicious. He wanted more, he wanted to see how far he could go. The more details he could add for the sake of his experiment, the better. Every control element he could introduce made it more concretely impossible that the fortune teller was right. 

"One more detail," Yi requested. "For the experiment's sake."

"Of course, my friend," the stranger agreed.

Stop calling me that. "Go on."

"Everything about how you view your family will change. Bitterness will turn to sorrow, and what affection you have shall turn to a shadow of dust and regret. Why, I cannot see," the stranger shrugged.

Bullshit. That'll never change. 

"I believe that's all the hexagrams have ordained to me, my friend," the stranger added. Yi was convinced they knew that phrase annoyed him. The stranger looked away. 

"You're not going to charge me for this, are you?" Yi asked. If there was any time this stranger would ask for a deal it was then. He hoped he wouldn't have to pay, especially after that insane conclusion the stranger came to about his family. What would change about them? He'd always dislike his father and loathe his mother. Heng wouldn't change in his eyes, and she would always be his eccentric and saccharine younger sister. 

"Do you take me for a charlatan?" The stranger smiled.

"Yes," Yi deadpanned.

"Then let me defy your expectations," the stranger remarked. They handed him a 10 Jin bill. "Now I'll give you money instead of taking it."

"Thanks, I guess, but you can—"

"No, I assure you, you'll need this," the stranger insisted. Yi jammed the bill into his pocket.

"Okay," Yi muttered. Ten Jin was ten Jin.

They didn't speak again for the next hour.

Yi watched the Ying coast get closer and closer. He instantly noticed the new outgrowth of Rhizomatic Columns a few li behind it, storing and releasing energy to be used freely by the country's citizens. Most Solarians were suspicious of them because of the Turbulent Era (at least in Xia) or hated them because they thought the towers were ugly. Yi thought they were utterly beautiful. The towers were a testament to Ying's status at the forefront of Tianhuo and scientific research in the world outside of Kunlun. For every ten Solarians who died in Xia from the disease, only one died in Ying. Maybe that was because half of the people in Xia had a death wish as Yi saw it, but that's besides the point. Yi nearly started babbling about the potential of Rhizomatic Energy to the fortune-telling stranger next to him for the sake of it. As he fanboyed over the towers, the stranger made a comment.

"Such beautiful monuments to the Solarian will. Lear was a brilliant man for how he designed them. Brilliant. It's a shame it'll all..." the stranger remarked, flicking their wrist to suggest a bird in flight. They opened their eyes as if they could actually see the towers. The way they spoke of Lear as someone they knew personally only signaled to Yi that this Solarian had been on the wrong end of a lobotomy. 

Yi didn't reply as the stranger stared out the window. He looked out toward his future and thought about what it would bring. So what if someone betrayed him? He'd fight like hell to preserve his work, and there was no way everything could truly be undone. Experiments were repeatable. Whatever emotions might unravel him from that betrayal were nothing in the face of a data slate. 

So what if someone loved him, too? It's not like it would matter in the grand scheme of things, he was working toward something bigger and better than a relationship. The idea was an appealing distraction and nothing more, like jingled keys in a baby's face. Love was something that could neither be proven nor measured beyond some mutual idea that it existed. Even if he found the person he thought was the right one, how could he know it was love and not something else? Finding love as he knew it would be like finding a neutrino in a haystack. Impossible, annoying, and if it finally happened his lab partners would faint in shock. 

He wondered if he would tell Heng about it. She'd obsess over that, I think. 

Those thoughts crowded Yi's head as Ying got closer. He was admiring the manufactured world around him so much that he failed to notice the train coming to a stop somewhere outside the KYRI campus. The stranger stood up.

"This is my journey's end, for today. Thank you for entertaining me," they said.

"No problem. Get back to me with that transcription," Yi replied. This is gonna be good. 

The stranger looked at him strangely before the doors opened, their eyes widening. "Absolutely. Your thoroughness reminds me a lot of an old friend, Yi, but I promise you the hexagrams are accurate."

The doors opened and the stranger left. As they were walking out, Yi managed to process what they said. He shot up from his seat and nearly ran after the stranger.

"HOW DID YOU KNOW MY NAME?" Yi shouted. "HOW?"

The stranger only looked back and smiled. The doors shut while Yi was still shouting, making him the crazy one in the car. A few of the passengers gave him a questioning glance. 

Yi slumped back down in his seat and stared at the stranger as they drifted away into the crowded fog of Solarians.

How... How... Did you know my name...?

Yi didn't want to think of an answer.

I wonder if Heng put that stranger up to this.

The thought came to him as an explanation. How else would the stranger have known where he was from and who he was? 

He couldn't get the thought out of his head, even when he was standing at the gates of the campus of his dreams. Yi nearly fell to the ground as he witnessed it for the first time. They say everything about a city is taller and grander when you see it in real life. It was even truer when you idolized that city and put it up on a pedestal of the greatest architectural achievements of your species. KYRI was a city unto its own for Yi, and he admired the glassy reflection off of every building on campus, from the auxiliary lab buildings that stood only five, maybe eight stories high to the brilliant student research center in the middle of campus that even he could see over the crowd of students at the gates. Every building was designed to perfection in Yi's eyes, made of structures that would never break down in a million years, but not so functionalist that they lacked any sort of ethereal beauty to them. Far from it, the reflections from dark glass that surrounded the student center gave the impression of Penglai's sun.

Yi totally hadn't been building up this moment for most of his life. Even as he was being shoved around by the small crowd to get in— with several elbows bumping against his head— he was still floored. Trunk in hand, Yi passed through the gates as they opened. 

The first building he walked past was a visitor center that artificially captured the university's early years. Bricks made from deep red Guifang clay that were sewn together by thin bands of the Fusang. Relatives of the students passed in and out, smiling as they saw their kids, brothers, fathers and husbands who worked there. 

I probably won't be seeing anyone there. Heng might get a kick out of the roots though, it'd be a nice echo chamber for her. 

He wondered if Heng was right about her becoming deaf to the roots and shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about his sister. She would move on with his loss like everyone else in his life would. Taoists' whole philosophy was not giving a damn, why would he be their exception?

Because it's Heng , he remembered, thinking of his time in the hospital. He sighed and kept walking forward, admiring the students. A small bookstore was giving out copies of a petition to make the Shang Kingdom fund their research. A few students were protesting the Jie Kingdom's occupation of South Yumin, a contested territory for years that even the neutered postwar Jie still fought over. He noticed a few researchers huddled over some plants outside, one holding a clipboard and another taking leaf samples with a scalpel. Others spoke to each other in hurried voices as they ran to their next classes, pushing through the crowd in the name of knowledge.

Action. For once in Yi's life, people embraced it. He smiled. 

He got to the part of campus he'd seen from the gates with all the glass buildings labeled as different labs. Engineering, Telelurgy (his planned major, of course, and Eigong wouldn't have it any other way), Genetic Engineering, and a veritable feast of other disciplines. He noticed a few buildings across the way dedicated to arts and philosophical sciences that shared the style of the visitor center. All of it, Yi figured, was dedicated to this concept of action that the Origin Era nearly abandoned. The central research center loomed ahead, and Yi was told he'd have to go there to receive a key to his room.

He was so lost in the glamour of it all that he nearly didn't notice the split in the road. If anywhere was that split the stranger was talking about, this was the one. He looked on either side. He saw a sign saying the right led to the dorms. Another sign on the left displayed more labs, which Yi wanted to see. He knew just by looking that both roads would lead to the center of campus. He decided in the interest of the experiment, he'd keep it random. He pulled out a golden half-Jin coin from his pocket.

Heads I take the right path. Tails I take the left , he called. He looked up to the sky.

Alright stranger. Let's see which one of us is crazy .

He flipped it, making a satisfying ping . With a flick of his thumb, his fate was allegedly sealed. 

Heads .

Chapter Text

The cosmos picks the dorms. Thoroughly unsurprising.

Yi was underwhelmed by the result of the coin flip. It felt like weeks between when he flicked it 

and when it hit his hand, which meant there was some sort of build up in his head. He wanted an outcome that could be unique, interesting, whatever, something that would really throw a wrench in the works for that stranger's fortune. But no. It had to pick the most probable place he'd see his lover, among all of the students who were just like him. It was hilariously simple when you thought about it, that he'd meet them among the dorms. 

But he wanted to prove this stranger wrong. He took the coin in his hand, resting the cold metal on top of his thumb. I make my own fate. Not you.

He flipped the coin again. Ping !

Heads .

Yi thought nothing of it. He flipped it again. Ping !

Heads .

That's... strange. Three in a row. Wanna go for a fourth, jackass ? He questioned. No matter. Fate would change in his hands, not by random chance. somehow he'd flip the coin perfectly so it landed on tails just so he could screw this Solarian's fortune and prove himself right. Ping !

Heads .

"Fine," Yi said aloud. "I'll go."

He paused for a moment as he took his first step. Maybe just one more. No way this coin hits a one in thirty-two chance.

Ping !

" Fuck ," he whispered, as he stared down at the head side of the coin. "I guess I'm that lucky," he seethed. He started down the dormitory path. If there was no avoiding this he might as well go with vigor in his walk. 

Truthfully, he didn't mind admiring the dorms. The brick-and-fusang buildings that lined the route were somehow imposing yet welcoming at the same time. They radiated a certain warmth, a certain charm that no other buildings on campus had. Yi struggled to pinpoint the word for it as he walked past, but he eventually settled on "potential" as their main charm. Potential to be, to work, to create, to dream, to build whatever he pleased for the sake of society. Potential to make himself known amongst a sea of Taoists and fools back home. Yes, they signified potential to him he'd never understood in his life until he walked that path. The dorms were great, and Yi wished he could gaze up at them under any other circumstance.

But no , he needed to keep track of every single person he saw on the path that day, because if he didn't, a face could slip through and his whole experiment would be dead in the water. If Yi was good at recognizing people, it would be easy, but he really wasn't. He rarely committed a face to memory unless that face mattered to him in some way, positive or negative. Attractiveness was one thing (that everyone has for some reason, what the hell is up with this place?), but when it came down to it Yi didn't know them, and to be honest he didn't completely care to. He could probably place a few voices here and there among the deluge, but that was just because they were notable, and he wasn't able to get all of them. A girl with a pitchy Shang accent who spoke like she was preparing for a debate with Guiguzi assaulted his ears. Another girl with a dark, mystical Kunlun voice that cut through everyone else in the crowd when her lips parted filled Yi with intrigue, but not interest. He noted a group of Jie men whose voices he couldn't tell apart if he tried, all with the same haughty grumble and typical arrogance. 

Why did he note them? Because despite his obvious heterosexuality, he needed to be thorough. Yes, thorough. That was the only reason why. The experiment had to be preserved.

Who am I kidding? There's no one here interesting enough to even start to warrant my—

"...meaning I might be able to rewrite Lear's third law." 

Yi's ears perked up instantly. A student claiming he could surpass Lear and point out an error in his third law? Now that was something that warranted his attention. He listened in like a Xia sailor to a mythical siren, stopping in the middle of the crowded path just to hear.

"Rewrite how?" another Solarian asked. "You're talking about fundamental laws of the universe here, even if your research is as promising as you claim it is, I doubt you could change the equations significantly."

"Hey, you work in Genetic Engineering, you violate fundamental laws of the universe all the time. I'm just expanding on one that already exists, improving it, I think."

Interesting. A debate , Yi thought. Both of their voices were alluring in their own way. He could pick out their accents instantly. The man proposing the changes had a thick, low voice that sounded like it was from a few li outside of KYRI. Despite his way of speaking, it didn't feel medical at all, but rather like a home-cooked meal that was prepped to perfection. The other was clearly from Yumin, with a thin layer of dust in her voice from years working in agriculture. But it wasn't primitive, wasn't ignorant or uneducated, far from it— she had the cadence of a master. 

"And tell me, Lear, how much are you improving that law?"

"...I'm adding a short new term."

"So how much does that change? Realistically, in an everyday application, how much does that change?" the one from Yumin asked. Why she was effectively calling his research pointless, Yi had no clue. Then again, extreme pragmatism was admirable to some degree, it indicated that she cared about doing research that meant something.

"For your purposes, not much, sure, I'll... I'll give you that," the man admitted. "But Ambient Frequency Analysis is a relatively new field and I think it could be used on a large scale for power production. It's not for small applications like telecoms or GMs, you know that. At least, I think you do, I'm not really sure if I explained it to you or not," he continued.

Ambient Frequency Analysis. The term was familiar, though distant in his mind. Yi remembered that Eigong mentioned the practice to him about two years after the incident and linked him to a few papers on the subject. Despite his self-reported genius, the math was way beyond Yi for the time being. He had only a loose grasp of the concepts behind it. Resonant frequencies happened in everything, but they seemed to have an odd effect on Fusang roots, whose frequencies would depend on surrounding materials and objects. If you excited the surrounding frequencies in the right way, the roots could change their power output slightly because of internal vibrations. 

This student must have a way of mathematically integrating that. Holy shit. Just the thought of working with someone like that made him lose composure. But he didn't speak to nor look at the two Solarians, just listened.

"So you're overcomplicating things for...?"

"I'm not trying to overcomplicate things, just... I know that you don't really want to change any of your work because of this, you've worked with the old law for long enough and it still holds. I won't force you to. But you have to admit that there's something here, I mean, Dr. Eigong wrote off on this research," he sighed. 

"I apologize, but who?"

Yi meant to say that to himself, not cough it loud enough for them to hear. But come on, how was he not going to be piqued by that name? If these people worked with Eigong directly, like he'd been striving to for years, they had to be important. She didn't sanction research lightly. It took a few weeks of cajoling to get her to sign off on his improvements to the stabilizer. Though, in retrospect that might have been out of fear Yi would accidentally kill himself again more than negligence. 

"Alright, I guess he's listening, come over," the woman beckoned. He could feel her finger pointing at the back of his neck. Yi finally turned around to see the two of them. Seeing them both at the same time nearly made him choke. That, and it made him realize instantly that if the fortune teller was right, he wouldn't need to look far to find the lover. By proxy, it made his job of checking if they were right comically easy.

He'd guessed correctly on where the woman was from. Tall, dark fur, floppy ears, wide eyes, GM’med wings, all of it was typical for someone from Yumin. A pair of blade prosthetics starting at her knees were attached to her legs, so she must have ditched the typical avian style most Yuminese Solarians adopted. Yi didn't really care about that though, even if he found her objectively good-looking. It was the look in her eyes that seemed to pierce straight through him to his memory. They were filled with ambition, but not malice. They were filled with knowledge, but not necessarily arrogance. They were filled with passion, but not insanity. Yes, he'd guessed right. She'd been trained by the best, and it showed in her face. 

I'd be less than opposed. Maybe I can allow just one part of this fortune— nope, not even thinking that.

He looked over at the man next to her and nearly doubled over. If she was tall, he absolutely dwarfed Yi. He was as imposing as the brick buildings around him, and in all honesty his build wasn't too far off either. He wore a black uniform robe with a gray KYRI t-shirt underneath. He carried a pile of data slates in one arm and a cup of what Yi recognized as bubble tea in the other. He looked like an agent of death, if you ignored his pudgy, affable face and bright orange fur. The moment Yi recognized that, he saw him as nothing but a fluffy, ginger, giant, and distinctly huggable man. The thought made Yi's throat go dry.

Again. You're being thorough. Just that. Also, this guy's probably a genius, who's to say you could even— you know what? Never mind. You definitely need medication. Now.

Yi reluctantly walked over to them. He wasn't that way because he didn't want to talk, far from it. He was just worried he was somehow following the path laid out to him by the fortune teller. He was better off just leaving, but he dug this grave himself and now he had to live with it. He shook both of their hands.

"So, you seemed interested in this conversation. I saw you just standing there and listening," the woman commented.

"I... may have been. I've been doing research of my own on the topic and overheard you as I passed by," he said. It wasn't a lie, he did hear it as he passed by. But the fact he stopped dead in his tracks and she'd noticed it was completely different. 

"So why did you wait for Eigong's name to come up to say something?" she interrogated. The man gave her a few cautious looks, but his eyes would constantly drift to Yi. 

"I work with her. That's all."

"You work with Dr. Eigong? How?" the man asked. His pupils were amazingly wide as he stared down at Yi.

"I've co-authored a few papers with her. I even had a sanctioned research project about rhizomatic stabilization for medical applications, not really groundbreaking stuff, but I've kept correspondence for about four years."

At the word "Rhizomatic", the man nearly shoved the woman to the ground. "You wrote a paper on Rhizomatic stabilization for Eigong? You... you wouldn't be Yi, would you? Of Xia?" he stammered. 

"Correct," he replied. The sudden praise from the man made him cough something fierce.

"Tao— I didn't think I'd actually get to—" he stuttered, wiping his forehead with his arm. He reached down to shake Yi's hand yet again. "Kuafu. From Ying, I do Rhizomatic Engineering studies, your work has been... incredibly enlightening, just—"

Kuafu .

He knew the name the moment he heard it. His name headlined about half of the papers Eigong had given to him, appearing next to hers and a few other doctors'. This man was a genius with a capital G, and Yi knew it. He was almost ashamed to be in Kuafu's presence, but at the same time he was utterly honored to have met him. 

"Ying? You... you must be a great craftsman, then," Yi commented. "Also, I've read your work too, you're brilliant. It wouldn't shock me at all if you changed the third law."

Kuafu seemed taken aback. He smiled at the comment about being a good craftsman. "I make furniture in my spare time, but what you think of the quality's up to you," he chuckled. "Thank you... I haven't heard that in a while," he added, making an offhand and shockingly irritated glance at the woman next to him. Yi could swear a blush crossed Kuafu's face, only for a second. Yi coughed again. A small mist of blood sprinkled his arm, but his throat was still brutally dry.

There was a pause between the two of them. Yi shook his head out. Right. Experiment. You can be a fanboy later. 

"So I guess there's three of us," the woman remarked. "I only knew about Kuafu, Eigong never mentioned you to me."

"That's strange. It probably has something to do with our fields, I mean, if you're in Genetic Engineering like I heard, Telelurgy doesn't have too much of an application there," Yi reasoned. "I don't think she mentioned you directly either."

"I disagree. I've been working with her on developing biological calculators, and that requires some telelurgy that's way outside of my understanding," she admitted. "I forgot to introduce myself. Goumang," she said, reaching her winged hand down as Kuafu did before. Her hand was cold in the welcoming way, like ice in a drink. Her eyes were still narrowed at Yi.

"The pleasure is more than mine," he replied, his voice uncharacteristic. He could blame it on tiredness all he wanted, she made him act in a way he'd never seen himself act before. "Do you do work outside of bio-calculation?"

"Botany, mostly," she said. "I've been working on a way to integrate more bioavailable proteins into optoberries. The children in my hometown taste tested in the early stages and they all loved me for it."

Good with her community. Enjoys berries. You should be writing this down somewhere , Yi figured. Wait, why do you care? Experiment, Yi, experiment.

"I don't know how, those things creep me out," Kuafu said. "It's like they're staring at you and begging for mercy whenever you eat one."

"I gave you a bowl to sample and it was gone within two minutes, beefcake," Goumang retorted, eliciting a flush from Kuafu.

"...I'll admit they taste good. Also, don't call me that. "

"My sister grows plants at home, she's bright, too traditional but very, very bright," Yi told Goumang. "I can't imagine her potential if she got into GMs, she could feed the whole village for weeks," he said. Goumang seemed to loosen up at that. 

"Village? Where I'm going, try all of Xia in one garden," she said. Her eyes beamed into the horizon as she said it. Yi could just see her imagining that future in her head and he couldn't help but smile at the change in her expression. "Of course, you'd need soil modifications, and we'd need to run roots under your garden bed, and of course there are irrigation systems to consider... How large is your available land?" she asked. She was genuinely running the calculations in her head, something Eigong would do constantly when they met in person. Yi stared at her as she made the tiny gestures with her eyes and fingers, moving around invisible variables to form invisible equations to solve invisible problems in her mind. She shook her head and cleared her throat. "Sorry... get lost in myself for a moment."

Don't worry, I don't mind that look one bit , he thought. Shows that unlike most people I know, you actually think.

Yi chuckled. "I know how it is. My mother called a healer once when I got into a flow state like that," he said. Yi omitted the part where she confiscated most of his materials for a week after the fact and was paranoid about a single drop of ink entering the house for months.

"Taoists?" she laughed.

"I'm from Xia, what else would they be?" he replied. They looked at each other for a moment and something seemed to click between them that wasn't there before. Understanding, maybe? It was either that or she'd realized how flustered Yi thought he was over her. They locked eyes for a little too long and broke away, silently embarrassed. This, of course, resulted in another short lull in the conversation where they all just looked at each other.

"Do you have a room assignment yet, Yi?" Kuafu asked. Yi was convinced Kuafu never stopped staring at him for the whole conversation.  

"No. Just got here," he answered. Please ask me to room with you, he prayed, the notion coming to him impulsively. He wanted his brain on hand, nothing more. It would be useful to room with him, plus he would probably make his inevitable studying a little less miserable. It was logical, nothing strange about his reasoning there.

"We're all being taught by Eigong, right? So it's convenient for us to room together! I mean, think about it, me and two of the smartest Solarians on campus working together, it works," Kuafu suggested.

Are you not one of those “smartest on campus” ? Yi questioned. He raised his eyebrow at Kuafu, and he seemed to pick up the message. He said nothing.

"It does. It'd make studying convenient," Goumang added. "Of course, we would need to take up two rooms, but that just leaves a single one for me." 

"Why wouldn't you want a roommate?" Kuafu asked her.

"Because I think I'm better than them," she snarked. "No, it's because all of the doubles are apparently located next to singles for some reason, they planned it that way."

"Why would they?" Yi asked.

Goumang shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that those room assignments are going extremely fast, and I'm not losing out on a good setup because of someone who deserves it less than we do," she replied. She sprang up, her steel prosthetics giving her a strange bounce in her step that Yi hadn't noticed before. She started to run off toward the student center without so much as another word. Finding someone that committed to something as trivial as a room assignment was like finding a needle in a haystack. 

"Does she think we deserve better, or that she deserves better?" Kuafu wondered. His voice had an unusually stringent note, a tonal dead bug swirling around a can of soda. He looked at her and tilted his head, and then looked back at Yi.

Yi said nothing. He didn't want to make a judgment of her just yet, she just seemed headstrong and committed. She was smarter than most people he'd met in his life, she had connections to Eigong, she had the face of a genius and was generally a bright-looking person. That wasn't judgment, that was just true to Yi. She didn't seem particularly selfish to him. Not in the slightest.

"I think she thinks we deserve what we deserve," Yi finally replied. He decided to shift the conversation as the two started to walk together.

"So what got you into Rhizomatic Engineering, Kuafu?" he asked. 

Kuafu smiled. "It's... it's a long story, are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Every detail," he answered. "Every little detail."

Kuafu looked down at Yi. "I guess it all started when..."

And he told the whole story. He talked about growing up in a town without power while the dead columns sat right outside. How he picked up a book when he was just twelve and started studying them. How he built a plastic model that smoked whenever he ran it until that one trial that finally worked. How he started working on a column himself and optimized it to perfection, figuring out how to mold the shapes and materials so the power output was perfect. How he got his town power for the first time in decades. How he figured out his breakthrough equation with some help from Eigong. 

Tao, Yi could have listened to him talk for hours. You know when people talk about a "voice of reason" in your head? Yi figured that they were subconsciously thinking of Kuafu when they heard it. It was the emotional explanations mixed in with the brilliant scientific quality of it all, how he would devise his processes, his ideas, that made him so interesting to Yi.  

Kuafu talked about how his town lauded him for weeks after the fact.

Something about that sent a bitter wave through him. Yet, it all melted when he looked back at Kuafu. It was his face, his tapioca pearl eyes that seemed to absorb all of the irritation in Yi's soul and take it away. Yi couldn't feel jealous of him. He felt bad about even thinking he was.

"I can't believe you did all of that while I nearly blew myself up," Yi said after a short lull.

"You nearly blew yourself up?"

"How do you think I got so familiar with Rhizomatic Stabilizers?" he replied. "Telelurgy is my strong suit, everything else is a byproduct of almost blasting a hole in my old village."

Kuafu laughed. "Didn't sound like that to me. It sounded like you'd been learning since birth, I mean the amount of research you roped in for your project was just masterful," he beamed. 

"Is that because I cited you?" Yi smirked. He actually did, for a single calculation he made for the vibrational stability of the system. All else was Eigong, Lear, Tranexamine, and a whole lot of luck. Mostly Eigong, since Yi couldn't legally headline the paper.

"Because you wrote something great, Yi, that's why. How long had you studied when you made that?" Kuafu asked. He took a sip from his bubble tea.

"About a year?" Yi figured. He was fifteen when he wrote the paper, and fourteen when he had the accident. It could have been shorter than that. He remembered he was only a few months away from turning fifteen when everything turned.

Kuafu spit out his drink, a pearl hitting one of the pedestrians like a bullet, which Kuafu gestured to apologize for. They didn't notice. "A year? YOU WROTE THAT AFTER A YEAR?"

"I... I guess I did."

Kuafu gazed at him. Yi didn't think he'd been admired this much in his whole life, even as a should-have-been Taoist infant. He didn't even say anything, just looked at Yi in pure astonishment. "I thought you were at least a decorated grad student, not a first year student when I heard of you."

"I thought you were one of Eigong's people, like, the inner circle type. Decades old and sharp as a tack. But you're my age, if it makes any difference," Yi complimented. It was clunky. Uncomfortable. Why Yi was even complimenting him so much was far beyond him, he should have said his peace to Kuafu and then left to talk more with Goumang— who he was obviously more intrigued by personally. But something undefinable kept him there. 

That faint but obvious blush returned to Kuafu's face only to vanish a moment later. "You really think so?"

"Please, you were the only one of us to get a real headline on your research, I got lucky and got honorable mentions, and Goumang... I don't really know about her."

"She's Eigong's personal lab assistant and her private pupil," Kuafu explained. "I'll bet you can see it."

Good to note , Yi thought. "See it how? By her jaunty gait?" Yi chuckled, gesturing in front of him as Goumang bolted to the student center. "Or by her boundless joy?"

Kuafu just laughed and shook his head. They didn't talk for a while. Yi just kept looking forward into the horizon, never once stopping to look to the sides, to the sky, never looking anywhere but forward. 

Goumang lit his path like a crimson and black beacon, striding away toward his future. If the fortune teller was right, she was that future. If it was anyone on this path, it was probably her. Yi could stomach that. He wanted to get to know her better, maybe coordinate a lab with her or study with her more, just to dig into her mind and see how deep Eigong's influence went. Well, not just that, of course, she wasn't a lab rat. He'd be chivalrous, at least as much as a man with his emotional inclinations could be. It wouldn't be a bad idea to arrange something through Eigong. A research opportunity, perhaps?

He looked back up at Kuafu, who in turn continued his routine of gazing down at him.

They could mean something else. Not a "lover" but something else, something different. Fortune tellers always deal in metaphors, right? Maybe it's a hint at his love of knowledge or some bullshit like that , Yi reasoned. He couldn't trust the fortune teller as far as he could throw them. Regardless of motive, meeting Kuafu didn't seem like circumstance, it felt completely necessary. He knew that his meeting was important, even if it was obviously not important in the way the stranger believed. Hell, who was to say he was who they were picturing to begin with? Not Yi. Certainly not Yi. It was out of the question. Right. It's out of the question.

Yi's head went around in circles for the short time left until they reached the student center, asking the same things over and over again until he got tired. Who? How? When? Are they just crazy? Am I the crazy one for going along with it? Maybe my experimental parameters are off. No, they can't be, I just need time...

While Goumang went into the building, Yi and Kuafu stopped at the doors. Yi felt he had to ask something. He wasn't even sure what answer he was looking for, just hoping for one.

"Do you think we're here for a reason, Kuafu? Like, we have some purpose other than to just be students here?" 

"I think we're here to... to... to help people, I think. To make something of our potential," he replied. "I don't think there's a path, a capital-W 'Way', if that's what you mean."

Yi paused for a second. He hoped that Kuafu was right. He didn't want to be bound by the whims of fate, he'd known that since he was a young man. Being purposeless was a nightmare, but having just enough potential to change things... that made the difference. He had no reason to believe a fortune would change anything around him. It was all the potential bound into him, into the buildings, his peers, his teachers, that's what would change everything. 

Who cares about a lover or traitor when the future is on the line? It's all potential, you'll find out if you have it or not when the time comes, and you can build it through work. Not through a fortune and not with dumb luck. You’re the only one here bothered by the words of a mystic.

Yi cleared his throat, and thought about reaching for the bottle of pills in his trunk. His throat was still dry as hell, yet somehow bloody. Yi glanced back up at Kuafu before opening the doors for him.

"Good answer, Kuafu. Good answer."

Chapter Text

I feel… strangely optimistic about this. About them.

Goumang managed to pull some strings to have them all move in next to each other, just like she said. Just by observing her discussion with the housing manager, he could tell she was a brilliant negotiator. She spoke with the words of Eigong, but carried her tone like a union rep who was a cent away from striking. He wondered if she picked it up from someone she knew back home, a relative perhaps.

They left the center together, and once again came to the fork in the road. He questioned, for a moment, if he should leave them behind, just to walk down that road alone for a while. He wouldn’t be distracted if they weren’t there, and they were doing an amazing job of that only an hour after meeting them. Not in a bad way, of course, he’d never been so entertained or as interested or— reluctantly— as flustered by anyone in his life.

Of course, he might have considered that option further had Goumang not spoken up.

“I need to pick something up from the genetics lab down the road from here,” she said, stopping in her tracks.

“On your first day?” Kuafu asked, eyes wide. 

“I got a few plants transferred from back home. Dr. Eigong said she had them in her office.”

A strange, yet humorously fearful look entered Kuafu’s eyes. “Why not leave them at the lab? I mean, if you’re experimenting on them that means there could be—”

“Relax, chubby, they’re decorative houseplants. Bigger than normal, sure, but decorative.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Don’t worry, if anything new and edible comes from them I’ll save it for you,” she joked. 

Kuafu sighed into his gargantuan hands. Yi could just barely make out what he was muttering as Goumang seemed to ignore him. “Could be poisonous, stinging, noisy— somehow— and you’ll still bring it home. I just worry, Goumang, I just worry…”

Actually, Goumang wasn’t ignoring Kuafu, Yi noticed. She chuckled to herself while he mumbled about their dorm’s safety. He got a feeling that the two knew each other for longer than he’d initially thought. You know, based on the fact Goumang was already comfortable making fun of his weight. 

“Look, it’s only a few minutes of detour, I’m sure nothing you could get exposed to in that time is going to kill either of you,” she eventually replied. “There are three plants, three of us, might as well take them back together.” 

Kuafu looked to Yi, gesturing to Goumang as if to say “Could you tell her to do it herself?”. Yi shrugged at him, and Kuafu huffed. 

“Fine, I’ll help you with them, just… don’t blame me if I keel over in a week,” Kuafu told her. The look of fear in his eyes transformed to an idle dread. 

“Good, I can blame you after a week,” she snarked.

Kuafu took a deep breath and shrugged. He set off down the path, with Goumang close behind.

I have no choice but to follow them, Yi settled. Time to meet a traitor.

His senses heightened instantly. Every sound was more pronounced, every voice clearer on the crowded path. The world slowed down for every face and gesture, leaving Yi with enough time to process them and see who was praying for his downfall, or would pray for it when the time came. He was particularly keen on finding the Solarians talking about each other behind their backs. Those ones, his mother always said, were the ones that you shouldn't trust. It was the only thing she taught him that was right.

After all, she talked behind others' backs all the time.

But the gossip was so generic he could have heard it anywhere. Solarians complaining about relationship drama from years past, about their professor’s old assignments, about how their projects didn’t get approved for one reason or another, it was all completely normal. Not a single word out of their mouths stuck out to him.

Of course, that boredom naturally drew him back to Goumang and Kuafu, the most entertaining and notable Solarians on the road. No one seemed particularly traitorous that day, Yi observed.

Unless.

Yi froze. 

It could be either of them.

He thought about it. They had the most incentive out of every student to stab him in the back. They sought the favor of a highly-decorated professor— no, a highly-decorated Sol— so it would be completely logical for them to do it. They stood to gain everything and, providing they didn’t get caught, they’d lose nothing. A competitor would be out of the game. And when that happened, they’d rejoice.

But which one?

Right, it wasn’t a conspiracy, not in the proph— experiment. It was one Solarian who would do the job and undo his work. So one of them, if it was one of them, had to have a tell of some kind.

Something in him reflexively said Kuafu, but Yi could tell just by looking at him that he didn’t have it in his heart to do it. It was the eyes, really, his big, tapioca-pearl eyes that screamed innocence. His entire story screamed innocence, actually. 

Unless it’s a farce. 

Yi considered it seriously, for just a moment. He could have lied about it all to gain Yi’s trust before he discredited or outright killed him. It was working well, and the fact it could be a manipulation tactic put Yi off balance. 

Pfft. Bullshit.

Yi looked up at him and his nervous face and decided he’d just have to wait. If he didn’t want to know it now, he didn’t have to. Yi would be content with Kuafu as he was. A friend and ally. Emphasis on friends. You know, for simplicity’s sake.

He looked to his other side. 

That leaves her.

Goumang was more of a wild card. She was clearly close with Eigong. Her experiments were obviously important to her. Yi knew, in some way, she’d sacrifice her personal relationships if it meant her p-values went lower. Very “good of Solarian-kind” sort of motivation for doing it. It made some sense. 

At the same time, that same motivation meant that destroying another scientist in a different field than her wouldn’t yield great results. She wanted herself to succeed, and Yi’s field granted her the tools to do it. Why destroy him instead of bringing him closer? Yi figured that was what he wanted from her, why wouldn’t she want it back? 

She probably isn’t the one either. 

Yi flipped his hand in the air. No. There probably wasn’t any overlap between the right and left-hand paths, because fortune tellers didn’t think like that. A bunch of lights and sounds didn’t make things complicated, and the word of an androgynous seer wasn’t the exception. 

He was simply drawn to them both. That was why he was overanalyzing them.

You should still keep an eye on them just in case. 

It took him a moment to realize they’d stopped in the middle of the road. They both looked down at Yi with bewildered looks on their faces. 

“You okay?” Goumang asked. “You spaced out for a while.”

“Yeah… just… thinking about something.”

“Something that would make you look like that?” 

He heard Kuafu mutter something under his breath about probably dying within the month, and Goumang brushed it off. 

“Whatever he said,” Yi lied, playing it off as a joke. 

“See, he agrees,” Kuafu chuckled. 

Goumang shot him an abrupt glare. “If you really don’t trust me to keep you safe that much, you can stand on the other side of the pathway, fatass. Hell, don’t help at all, you never needed the exercise anyway.”

Man, she cares a lot about her work. 

Kuafu backed off, his face genuinely shocked. “Sheesh, Goumang, I was kidding. I never meant anything by it, you know that.”

He seemed hurt, yet something in Goumang’s face said that Kuafu got the wrong thing from what she said. A raised brow or glance in the other direction, perhaps. His expression changed from one of offense to one of suspicion. He still seemed peeved about the insults. Yet, he slowly nodded at her, and crossed to the other side of the path. 

This, logically, left the two of them walking alone. If she wanted to stab him, now would probably be a great time— you know, minus the hundreds of witnesses.

“If it means anything, I wasn’t really agreeing with him. I just lost focus,” Yi admitted, not wanting to draw her ire. If that was really what it was, anyways. 

“I figured. I know the look, Eigong gets it sometimes.”

Yi knew it just by her description. He only saw it once, shortly after his accident. He brought up something about Tianhuo and she just got lost in thought until he reined her back in. 

I wonder how well she knows her.

“Kuafu told me you’re her personal assistant?”  

She just laughed. “Understatement of the century. Think bigger,” she smirked. 

“Co-author?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, her smile becoming less harsh. “In what world is being a co-author above being a personal assistant?”

Yi chuckled. “Mine, I guess. I mean, how can you get bigger than…”

He paused for a moment. He could tell Goumang saw the gears spinning in his head by the look of satisfaction on her face.

Holy shit.

“You’re being considered for the Tiandao Council, aren’t you?” he asked. He stammered out a few more words he didn’t even process. All he knew is that he was in the presence of genius— if he hadn’t figured that out already. “You’re lucky, very lucky!” he finally coughed. 

She straightened herself up haughtily. She placed her fingers on her chest and puffed up, but her smirk remained. She aped the mannerisms of an upper class noble, mocking Yi’s praise. “You’re right about everything but luck. All on my own. I submitted my application this week, it’s a shame it’ll take months for them to argue over it.” 

“Please, if your work is anything like I’ve learned about in the past hour, I doubt they’ll pass you over for someone else,” he replied. “Hell, Eigong never even mentioned I could apply.”

Goumang looked down at him with two expressions on her face. One told him that she was overjoyed that Eigong never told Yi, a slight flush and awkward smirk crossing her face. Eigong favored her that much. 

The other signaled, immediately yet quietly, the phrase “and you better not apply now”.  

Yi figured her happiness was dominant, and pushed the thought of betrayal aside. He barely knew her. It was unfair to judge her from their first few hours. He didn’t want to judge her, either, she seemed genuinely fascinating to him. 

She deserved to be admired. For several reasons, of course. Yi wouldn’t deny that part of himself, even if he wanted to to prove a point. 

“She never mentioned it to me, either,” she admitted. “I was actually asked to apply by another council member,” she said. 

“Who?” Yi asked. She wondered if any of them had stakes in her presence. He didn’t even know who the other council members were, just that Eigong was one of them and Goumang was being considered. He was sure they were all just as cutthroat and passionate as his mentor. 

“I have no clue. I just know it wasn’t Eigong, because I asked her directly and she said it was someone else who endorsed me. Well, she did— eventually— but she— she wasn’t the one who gave me the application, you know?”

“Eigong keeps her secrets well,” Yi said. He paused to think. Goumang has allies. Which means you have allies, if you play your cards right with her. 

What a clinical way of thinking about it. 

“You’re telling me,” she huffed. “But I get why she does it. Penglai’s on her shoulders.”

“Do you work on the virus with her?” he asked. 

She fell silent for a moment. She stared into the ground, not looking at Yi but past him. 

“Do you—”

“No. I wish I did,” she sighed. “But what can I complain about? She’s letting me solve my own crisis, and once I fix that she’ll probably let me move on to hers,” she reasoned. 

“Your crisis is world hunger, I presume?” he asked, hoping for clarification.

“Hunger, yes, and order, of course. You can’t distribute food, or anything really, in a society without Solarians who value order. Everything feeds off of it, and in my opinion that’s very literal. We need more of it, really,” she responded. She paused for a moment, maybe because she realized how she sounded. She cleared her throat. “...Not in the Jie sense, mind, but in the sense that equality is enforced and we can all… benefit… from the hierarchy,” she clarified. She put her hands out in front of her. “That way everyone gets what they need, and we figure out what they need ourselves, you know?” she finished. She sounded unsure, like it was a risky thing to say around Yi.

Amazing. Simply amazing. 

He wasn’t sure he’d heard someone his age think like that before. Sure, his parents always talked about the “natural order” and how you had to flow with it, whatever. They didn’t care if someone lived or died, fattened or starved, healed or broke, because that was the way of things. It would always happen by the hands of the Tao.

Goumang believed in her own Tao. Her own order. Her own way. A way where death didn’t need to happen, one where the world didn’t have to starve or break because the forces of nature said so.

Two other Solarians he knew thought like that, and one was himself. The other was his mentor. 

His eyes widened, and he could feel the light glistening off her fur. She seemed more striking to him after she said everything she did. 

You need to say something, Yi. Anything would be good. 

“It’s funny,” Yi commented. Those certainly weren’t the words he expected out of his mouth. He nearly hit himself for it.

Funny? Really?

“What’s funny?” Goumang interrogated. She tightened up, like she was ready to strike him. 

“Even if I didn’t know you were her student, I can tell Eigong’s your teacher,” he explained. “She talks like that. It rubbed off on you, it’s brilliant,” he said. 

Nice recovery, dumbass. Make it about your mentor instead of her. 

Goumang relaxed, yet she still seemed flustered by him.  She stammered out her thanks while Yi continued on admiring her. 

Never mind. She was surprisingly okay with that. 

“I guess she has,” she finally replied. 

They did that thing where they locked eyes for just a little too long again before they found themselves on the doorstep of the genetics lab. Yi could feel a slow, steady current of electricity running between them both. He flipped a breaker to cut that current off. 

It’s almost like you’re trying to prove the seer right, he scoffed. You’re setting yourself up. 

Kuafu had stopped across the path, and for some reason he looked thoroughly embarrassed. He had that face someone makes when they completely botch a social interaction, like telling a server at a restaurant to enjoy their food or telling your boss you love them over the phone after years of only calling your partner. He facepalmed and rubbed his forehead. Yi saw him mouth something to the sky. Kuafu saw him see this, and quickly snapped back to normal.

Strange. Endearing, somehow, yet strange. I’ll ask about it later. 

They both nodded to him, and Kuafu crossed the path.

“You really didn’t have to—” Kuafu started, his voice completely indignant. Not in the way where Yi felt there was a real threat, but more of a friendly indignation over being left out of their conversation. Yi wasn’t sure Kuafu was genuinely capable of anger, and that said a lot given, again, he’d only known him for an hour. 

“Later,” Goumang interrupted. Kuafu sighed. He opened the lab door for them.

“Could you at least catch me up on what you were talking about?”

Yi opened his mouth to speak but was quickly overtaken by Goumang. She held him back with her hand, and he felt her coldness against his head. Unexpected for someone with feathers. On closer inspection, he realized they weren’t GM wings but just stylish sleeves she wore over her thin arms. Still cold, still welcoming, still too appealing a feeling for Yi to be comfortable with it. 

Goumang released Yi, to his much-suppressed disappointment. 

“I was telling him about Xia’s soil composition so his sister can grow better crops,” she lied. A believable lie, yes, but a lie nonetheless. She shot Yi a glance that had the same effect as a wink and a glare all at once.

She’s cagey.

Kuafu looked down at Yi, either searching for confirmation or just to look at him. Yi wasn’t sure, nor did he care. “I know a guy about twenty miles out from here, he sells gardening stuff. Family friend. I might be able to get her something if—”

He's generous, especially for having just met me.

“Yeah, I get it. But that’s really all we talked about. Nothing too interesting,” she interrupted again. Her voice was pitched strangely, like she was prepared to bolt away. 

Kuafu shook his head and mumbled something neither of them could hear. 

“Come on, my highly poisonous plants are waiting,” she snarked, forcing her tone. She gestured for them to go ahead, but hopped off before either of them could get a word in edgewise. They both held back for a moment.

“I appreciate your offer,” Yi told him, compensating for Goumang's interruption. “My sister would love it. Of course, it’ll have to be all-natural. She only uses it if it's natural.”

Kuafu smiled. Yi figured that meant a yes.

Of course he accounted for Heng. He doesn’t even know her and he somehow gets it. 

Whether Yi would actually take up the offer or not was a different question, but the look on Kuafu’s face edged him towards buying something for her. He would like, in some way, to keep seeing that look on his face. 

Unfortunately, that face was quickly wiped away by Goumang’s voice calling them from down the hall, telling them to hurry up.

“Ten Jin says one of us gets a rash,” Kuafu said.

“Why are you so afraid of her plants?” Yi asked, laughing.

“Optoberries gave me one,” he deadpanned. “Yes, I carry adrenaline, no, it wasn’t allergies.”

“Shame, it sounded like you liked them.”

Kuafu awkwardly scratched his head, and a smile lit up his face. “I… I did.”

Something about that made Yi’s throat dry up again. There was something about Kuafu’s earnestness, something about the honesty of his complaint that set something off. That honesty could be called sweet, if Yi could stomach that word. 

He wished he hadn’t thought that. He changed his train of thought instantly. 

His lungs were slowly bleeding and sucking moisture out of his mouth to stay functional. That was why his throat was dry. He reached for a cup of water from a nearby cooler and it did nothing for him. Expected.

He let out a few coughs, and again a small mist of blood came out of his mouth. Enough that Yi was worried. He reached into his pocket and fiddled with his bottle of coagulant painkillers, and decided to wait just a little longer before he dosed. 

“Well, I can probably carry two if it really bothers you,” he suggested. He ignored the quiet, but growing pain in his chest. 

Kuafu looked down at him skeptically.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Kuafu inhaled.

“I’m short. Funny.”

“Exactly.” 

Their smirks lit the halls.

Why did I agree to this again?

The flytrap Yi carried in his hands was well over three feet tall, with a head about as wide as his own. It must have weighed fifty pounds, at least. It killed his chest, but the pain was bearable enough that he didn't complain. 

Besides, Goumang said he’d be fine as long as he didn’t touch its mouth, which he obliged instantly. The spines on the rim of its lips were razor-sharp. This thing didn’t look like it’d just dissolve him, it looked like it would actually chew him to death. She claimed it was for pest control, which Yi admitted this would be very effective at.

The scent was even drawing him in. It smelled somewhere between lavender and sugar, like an odd middle-shelf liqueur. Intoxicating and exotic. 

Kuafu carried one that was simultaneously beautiful yet horribly unnerving. It was a full-frontal assault of the senses. A smell that would make a perfume vendor pass out, with a rainbow spectrum of colors that would turn even the boldest fashionistas prudish. It made no sound, but its mere presence invoked tinnitus in both of them. Yi knew a child who died after eating a plant like that. Based on the look on Kuafu’s face, he did too.

Goumang, of course, carried a simple desert flower arrangement. Nothing but the best for her. Or the easiest. 

The bouquet was gorgeous, though, and it was just begging to be put in a frosted glass vase. The shades burst forth like a sunset. Yi noticed a few of the flowers— Calochortus, Goumang calls them— were the same orange hue as a ring of color around her pupils. An amber reflection that would show up when the sun glanced off them just right.

Her eyes pierced Yi in just the right way, he figured. Like acupuncture needles. 

He shook his head. You’re proving them right. 

Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about her, or himself, really. This was a time to focus on everyone else around him. He already had two suspects. There were thousands more on this path alone, and if he didn’t memorize, or at least see every single one, he couldn’t call himself a scientist. He had to find and avoid his traitor. 

He stopped. That was the fourth or fifth time he’d reminded himself of that on this path. 

You’re paranoid. 

Because I don’t want a Taoist being proven right. They're a liar, and I know it’s all bullshit. 

If you don’t buy into it to begin with, why care?

Because I have the burden of proving them wrong. 

That means nothing. Give me an argument as to why you’re still on about this. Not just that you have to prove them wrong, a real, substantial argument. 

Yi didn’t give one. His gut instinct said this was how he had to do things. This was just who he was, and the way he’d conduct this test was only a reflection of that. He wasn't paranoid. He was just thorough. If he couldn’t tell himself that, he didn’t know what he could. 

Then why aren’t you talking to them to find out answers?

He didn’t respond to that either. So what if he stopped talking for a moment? If he was stuck in his own head for a while that was fine. It gave him time to plan. If he could figure out who it was, he could subvert their betrayal and prove everything wrong. Riposte before they even struck. 

His free will triumphed over inevitability, he figured. He could use that. The voice in his head be damned, he would use that.

He noticed he was staring up at Goumang, who was sending glances down at him. He quickly stared forward. 

“Are you—” Kuafu started. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking again.”

“Got it. Got it,” he said. He looked between Yi and Goumang and sighed. 

There was a brief, uncomfortable lull before anyone spoke. Yi noticed someone in that lull, someone about fifty feet down the path from them.  

“Is that Dr. Eigong?” he whispered to himself.

She was chatting with an extremely beefy man, one who couldn’t make it more obvious he was from the Jie Kingdom. He stood maybe a head taller than her, and he wore jade pauldrons like he was cosplaying an ancient ruler. Not a fellow doctor, that much was obvious. But he must have been important if Eigong spoke to him directly. The two exchanged a quick handshake and they separated. Eigong very clearly muttered something behind his back. 

Goumang stopped them. “Dr. Eigong’s over there. Look professional.”

Kuafu slowly set down the plant he carried. Goumang snapped at him, quietly, to pick it back up. He did. 

Eigong glanced over at them and strode over.

Yi could tell she wanted to smile. Of course, he understood why she didn’t. She had a reputation for being cutthroat, and a bigger reputation for being serious and cutthroat. Still, a twitch of her lip betrayed her.

“Dr. Eigong,” they all greeted in unison.

She looked them over. She said nothing about what they were carrying beyond a slight glint of acknowledgement toward Goumang. The silence lasted for too long.

“I see you’ve all met each other,” she finally said. “I knew it would happen, though I must say I’m surprised it happened this soon.”

“We’re… very surprised as well, doctor,” Kuafu started. “Truthfully, we weren’t even sure there were three of us until today.”

“I believe you cited Yi in your work, correct? I thought you two knew each other.”

“We knew of each other, doctor, but we were unfortunately never introduced. We both cited each other, actually,” Yi commented. He made sure to speak to her differently than he did basically everyone else he knew. 

Eigong grimaced, and here eyes betrayed a little embarrassment. “I apologize, sincerely. I was planning to get you all out here for a tour, but I was unable to secure any paid transport from Xia,” she sighed.

“I got here fine,” Yi said. It was a half truth, aside from the disconcerting experience he had on the train. 

“I see. I assume all three of you have been discussing something, based on the poignant look on your faces. Fill me in, please,” she implored. Her voice cracked upward just a bit, just enough for all of them to tell admiration was peeking through her clinical exterior. She wanted, desperately, to talk with them like a friend, and all of them knew it. 

Yi remembered the same tone in his own mother— never towards him, of course. It was always Heng who received that sort of attention. The memory left a bitter note in his head, like a shot of grain alcohol poured into a cup of tea. He didn’t dare show it on his face. 

“We’ve mostly been catching up,” Kuafu said, casually.

Goumang cleared her throat, if only to make her presence known. “I filled Yi in on my botany research because he doesn’t work in my field, and he spoke to me about his. We actually wondered if he could get clearance to work with me in the future.”

“On your bio-calculators?” Eigong asked.

“Yes, Sol— Doctor Eigong,” she corrected. She didn’t quite get to call her that title yet. 

“Of course, Goumang,” she said. She raised an eyebrow. “Though, I must ask, was my permission not implicit?”

Goumang looked away from her. “Well, with research funding, and the fact that you’ll have to get it cleared with the Telelurgy Department head, and the fact that you’ll—”

Eigong sighed again, interrupting her. “I truly, truly apologize. My breakthroughs have swamped me lately, and I’ve failed to communicate well with you all. You three are permitted to work with each other across departments,” she said. “Actually, you have clearance to do work with any department at any time, as long as your plans go through me,” she corrected. 

“Thank you, Doctor Eigong, it’s much appreciated,” Goumang said, almost stiffly. The other two merely nodded. 

“So, any specific things about each other’s research you find interesting? I’d love to give you some project recommendations your undergrad professors will probably gush over.”

All three of them nodded vigorously. Research with her stamp of approval would put them even further on the map.

“Well, I guess I should start with the neurology department…”

She started there. The neurology department was researching a way to send and receive data to and from the Solarian brain. Eigong said oncologists needed it to identify certain types of brain cancer faster. A note crept into her voice that said they could definitely do more with it. That job was entrusted to Yi and Goumang, of course. 

She kept going after they approved of that plan. She rattled off ideas for them like a machine, never stopping until she found the perfect one. And since there are no perfect ideas— in Eigong’s words— she nearly didn’t stop. They were dizzy by the end. 

It was strange dealing with her, Yi thought. On one hand she was the most passionate teacher and doctor he’d ever met. On the other hand, that doctor was practically a parent (grandparent?) to him, one he never had and one he’d wished for for most of his childhood. It was like there was another genius in his family who wasn't even related to him.

I wonder if I'm not related to them. I hope so.

You say that without thinking of your sister.

Yi said nothing else to the matter.

The group's conversational flame burned out. She looked them over again. 

“I assume that advice will be enough,” she finished. They looked at her, astonished. “I’d talk more, but I’d like you all to make it to your dorms today, two of you have travelled internationally and I want to make sure you rest.”

“Thank you, doctor, we’ll use it to our full advantage,” Goumang said. The way she spoke to Eigong was alien. She put on more of a veneer than any of them did, and Yi could tell that even though he barely knew her. It was like Eigong had placed her under a guillotine, and a single wrong word out of her mouth would send that blade down on her. 

Kuafu just shrugged. By contrast, Kuafu seemed the least fazed by Eigong’s demeanor. There must have been some sort of agreement between them that he wasn’t going to be axed from the university if he spoke out of line.

Yi wondered how he should act, since they were both being weird about it. 

“Thank you,” Yi said, much more concisely than Goumang. 

She nodded at them and gestured for them to go on. They started walking, and got maybe fifty paces out before she spoke again.

“Actually, Yi, if I could speak to you for a moment?”

Goumang shot him a look, as if to ask why he specifically needed to be spoken to. He shrugged at her and set the flytrap down. Kuafu started to pick it up, but Goumang took it for him before he had the chance. Yi ran back over. 

Eigong looked around to make sure the other students’ backs were turned. 

“Yi, I didn’t want to talk about it with them, but I think it needs to be asked. How are you doing?”

“In general?”

“Your health, Yi,” she clarified. “Have your symptoms changed? Worsened? Alleviated?” she questioned. He could swear he heard those exact questions at a clinic once. 

Yi breathed in. “Nothing’s different. I’m still in pain, but no more than usual. I bleed, but no more than usual. Your meds help.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Yi,” she said, her voice careful. “Of course, I assume you still follow my dosage instructions?”

More or less, Yi thought. He remembered that he took more than he should have that night before he left home. But that indulgence was necessary if his parents wanted to see the next morning. 

“Absolutely,” he lied.  

She looked down at his sleeve, and pointed. “There’s blood. Are you dosing at the correct times?”

“I was waiting until I unpacked a little before I medicated.”

“That’s fine. I just worry, Yi. My student with the most potential is probably my most fragile— well, not fragile, but—”

“Most likely to spontaneously combust?” he joked, as much as he could afford with Eigong. She afforded herself a smirk in return. 

“Yes, that. But I’ll need to write you a new prescription once you develop a tolerance.”

“Trust me, I doubt that’ll happen. I barely tolerate the pain when I don’t take the meds, and it washes away when I take just a single dose,” Yi explained. He left out how frequently that pain would come back. 

“Of course,” Eigong said. “However, I… I lost a... colleague... to overdose many years ago. She suffered from a pain like yours, one in her right leg from muscle death,” she explained. “It was a shame. She was a prodigious scientist, she… would have served us well in the study of Tianhuo.”

Eigong looked distant, in a way he’d never seen her look before. This wasn’t the deep-in-thought gaze, it was the fabled thousand yard stare, the one you only get when you see death from the outside. Not the death of a patient, but of a friend. Even that may have been an understatement by Eigong standards.

Yi had seen that look only one time. He’d seen it on his father on the night Yi left, after he told that story about his buddy with the plaque dedicated to him. 

“My condolences, doctor,” Yi said flatly. He wasn’t really sure how to respond to her unusual display of… emotion. All he knew was that he didn't want to be reminded of that night again.

Eigong seemed to snap out of it.

“It’s been thirty years, Yi. I’ve heard it a thousand times, and I doubt I can mourn her loss more than the thousands she’s saved through her work,” she admitted. “Just… be careful. Please.” 

“I assure you, Dr. Eigong, I’ll be careful.”

She looked down at him and took a deep breath. “I have to get back to the GM lab. That man you saw dragged me all the way out here to meet with him, all to say he was doing the thing I wanted him to do in the first place.”

“One of your researchers?”

She paused. “Sort of. Sort of,” she repeated. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Yi," she said, backing off slightly toward the lab. 

“Right, Intro to Virology,” Yi said. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll try not to,” she finished. “Goodbye, Yi. Be Ever Aware.”

“Be Ever Aware,” he repeated as she walked away from him. The university slogan rang oddly in his ears. It felt relevant in a way that made his skin crawl.

Is it a coincidence I saw her on this path?

That would be rich. His mentor stabs him in the back to destroy his work. His mentor, the woman that had saved his life, had practically raised him for the past four years, and had given him a full-ride scholarship to an elite university would betray him. 

It would be like the end of a Shang tragedy, where the upstart student lies dead on a cliff while the mentor mourns the prodigy she had to murder to save her own life. The image was almost comical to Yi because of just how insane it was. 

Why? Why would she do that? Why would Yi, in his perfectly rational mind, think she’d do that? She had no motive. A bad grade might get him a stern talking to, maybe a lower dosage if she was being unusually cruel, but she’d never discredit him. His classmates might do something to get ahead, but she was about as ahead as you could get. She gained nothing. She lost everything. 

She was the only Solarian he knew who was out of the question. So why ask about it to begin with?

I’m right. I am being paranoid.

He took one last look at Eigong before she entered the lab.

…But what was it you said about instinct, Yi?

He caught the glint of a new sword at her side.

I’ll trust it when I know I’m right.

He caught a glimpse of her eyes, fiery and calculating. She turned through the door and fell out of sight. 

He hoped, in the deepest pits of his heart, that this would all blow over.

He took a pill from the bottle.

He thought about betrayal as he swallowed.

Remember, Yi. Be Ever Aware.

Chapter Text

“I fucking hate this.”

Yi chuckled.

“I didn’t know you could swear like that.”

Kuafu gestured at the machine he’d— they’d, more accurately— been working on for the past four hours. It was well past midnight, and they could hear the distant echo of crickets through their dorm room walls. “Go ahead, then, you try. You try and fix this miserable—”

Kuafu took a deep breath, and shook his head. “Sorry… I’ll keep working.”

Yi pushed his chair over to the machine, which sat on a wide workbench Kuafu hauled up about two weeks before. An ancient TAO-10 computing unit sat in front of them, Yi placing it at well over forty years old. The plastic outer shell was yellowed and dusty. It was a beastly thing, too, probably weighing over twenty pounds and about as wide as two Yis put together. 

It was covered in several tiny copper hairs, which upon closer inspection were switches. Switches that they would have to flip to one of nine positions in order to enter their data. Everything, absolutely everything, was manual, and that included the programming. Tao forbid they add a serial bus somewhere.

Yi, not often someone to be disgusted by technology, found himself revulsed by the unit. It was an affront to nearly every design principle he knew. No, not just design principles, but principles in general. It stood in mockery of Solarians everywhere, like that monument of Lear in the Shang Kingdom someone spray-painted a dick onto. 

Despite all that, he wasn’t sure how much Kuafu wanted to use this machine specifically— he knew a mechanical engineer who refused to use tech made after O.E. 420— so he wouldn’t insult it too much. Kuafu did a good enough job of that already, anyways.

“It’s big,” was all Yi said. It was all that needed to be said.

Kuafu audibly bit back the urge to laugh.

“What?” Yi asked. It was an astute observation about the computing unit. It was big, there was no other word for it. Yi had no clue how Kuafu fit it through the door.

“Nothing,” Kuafu coughed. He mumbled something about Yi’s dad that Yi didn’t catch, nor did he understand. He got that it was a joke, probably an innuendo based on the way it was said, but he didn’t actually hear it.

“Seriously, what?”

“Well, your dad, my size, you know, the usual,” Kuafu explained.

“My dad called you fat?” Yi gasped. Not genuinely, though more genuinely than he’d have wished. 

Kuafu chuckled under his breath. He coughed out an explanation. “Yeah, a part of me, sure—”

The joke clicked. “Fuck off, Kuafu,” Yi smirked, pushing Kuafu’s arm, which did nothing to Kuafu and only pushed Yi a few more feet away. “Isn’t the joke usually supposed to feature my mother?”

No, it couldn’t. She’d be too busy with her head up her own ass to fornicate with him, he seethed. No matter. Yi didn’t want to think about her (or that) now. He could barely stomach the thought of his father as it was, even jokingly.

“Well, all things considered, Yi… I, uhh,” Kuafu stammered. “I just think 'your dad' was a more accurate thing to say… in uhh... relation to me. That’s all.”

“Why’s that?” Yi asked. 

Kuafu stared at him blankly, like this was another thing— a more personal thing— that Yi was missing. After a few more moments of silence, he sighed, though Yi could still see a smile peeking through the corner of his mouth. “Oh, Yi, my sheltered Xia friend, what am I going to do with you?”.

Truthfully, Yi wasn’t sure how to answer that. He didn’t think he was sheltered. He was probably the least sheltered Solarian in his home village, mostly because he was willing to use the internet. Yi knew this was a case of “I’m being an idiot”, not “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Well… what you can do with me is tell me how to fix this bastard,” he finally said.

“You do my job and I do yours?” Kuafu beamed. Yi could tell he was getting sick of doing the manual work, and Yi's hands were getting bored doing nothing. Switching tasks would be the best thing for them to do. 

“More or less.”

“Got it!”

Kuafu put down the thin stylus he was using. Quickly, he rolled his chair over to Yi’s smaller desk, where a data slate sat open with a Generation 10-compatible .tau file on the screen. Kuafu picked the slate up and began to read off of Yi’s last highlight. Yi, on the other hand, readied himself to push the switches. 

“Alright, we were at… line 452. That means switch 452, right?” Kuafu asked. 

“Switch 451. Line 1 is the file title," Yi corrected. 

“Got it. Find switch 451, input one.”

Yi took Kuafu’s stylus in his hand and searched for the switch. It stabilized itself shockingly well, despite it being a small pin that was taped to Kuafu’s old camera gimbal. That didn’t matter. Finding the correct switch with no frame of reference was the problem. It would be easy if not for the sea of switches on the board that were labeled with numbers Yi needed a high-precision magnifier to see. Conveniently, Kuafu already thought of the magnifier when he designed the stylus. 

Yi kept settling his hands a little too far away from the switch to touch it. Kuafu was right, this was extremely annoying. 

“Why do you have to work with this again?” Yi spat. 

“Professor Qialeng said it’d be a ‘learning opportunity’ for us, said us kids were all ‘too soft’ or something like that,” Kuafu replied, making air quotes in the voice of the professor. 

Yi was lucky enough to dodge her class entirely. Dr. Eigong had goaded his advisors to place him out of first-year telelurgy and into a third-year course that was more his pace. 

“Doesn’t Dr. Qialeng have some kind of Tianhuo complication?” Yi asked. It was the one other thing he knew about her. 

“Screws with her nerves, allegedly,” Kuafu explained. “I don’t buy it, at least not yet. She doesn’t have any other symptoms besides a cramp in her hand. I’m convinced it’s just from working on machines like that for forty years,” he added, pointing to the beast in front of them.

“I’d believe it,” Yi replied, noticing how his hands were already shaking. He finally located the switch and requested the bit again, just for good measure. 

“One,” Kuafu repeated.

Okay. This was it. Push the switch one tick forward of zero. That shouldn’t be difficult.

He was wrong, and it was, in fact, horribly difficult. 

First, he accidentally pushed switch 450 out of place by a single value, so he needed to reset that one. In the process of doing that he screwed up two more by fatfingering them. He now had four switches out of place. He would need to request the direction for switch 448, and then go back forwards.

Keep in mind, they had been at this for hours.

Yi groaned. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“How far back?” Kuafu huffed.

“448.”

“Shit,” he heard Kuafu mumble. “Three.”

Carefully, Yi pushed it into the fourth position. Yi took a breath to steady his hands. The gimbal could only do so much work.

“Next.”

“Two.”

“Next.”

“Three.”

“Next.”

“One.”

That was probably the fastest they’d done it yet. Of course, that was just four bits out of thousands they had to push through, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before. This was a routine. 

The routine was simple. Kuafu would help Yi with any concrete engineering he had to do, and Yi would help Kuafu with any telelurgy involved. For most projects, that went fine. Most projects had that line where Yi wasn’t as familiar with the tools and schematics Kuafu used to build his machines, and vice-versa for Yi’s programming.  

It just so happened that this one time was the opposite. Yi’s slight and nimble hands were better for this than Kuafu's. Tiny switches versus Kuafu’s gigantic hands didn’t go great for the switches, or for Kuafu. 

He thought more about them. Those giant, soft, warm, albeit clumsy hands Yi couldn’t help but want to—

Yi forced out a cough to stop whatever train of thought that was, and noticed a thin mist of blood on his sleeve. He fiddled with the bottle of pills in his pocket, but Kuafu gestured for him to continue before he could take one. 

He asked for the next bit, and Kuafu gave it to him. He found the switch, and struggled to get it into place.

“How’s your project with Goumang going?” Kuafu asked abruptly. 

“It isn’t,” Yi answered. “She hasn’t had time to start it yet.”

“Didn’t Dr. Eigong want you guys to do it? I mean, knowing Goumang and her, uhh… devotion to Eigong, I’d think she’d be all over it by now.”

“I would too, but twenty slate messages later and here we are,” Yi shrugged.

Kuafu paused. 

“You haven’t actually spoken to her?” he questioned, loud enough that Goumang could definitely hear it through the thin walls of the dorm. 

“Of course. It’s the digital age, Kuafu. Why should I suggest a project recommendation and not have it on a permanent slate record? ‘Talking to her’ is like throwing water in a hot pan, the words evaporate and we forget what was said to us.”

“I didn’t know you waxed poetic,” Kuafu commented. “But the trouble is, Yi, I… don’t think you’ve even turned on the stove. The pan’s not hot. It’s stone cold and you’re trying to warm it up without touching the simmerstat.”

Yi finally pushed the switch into place and deflected Kuafu’s rebuttal. “I figure she’ll eventually read the messages and we can arrange everything without speaking a word. Next bit?”

Kuafu narrowed his eyes at him, and he didn’t give him the next number.

“This isn’t just about the project, is it?” he asked. 

No, it isn’t.

“Yes, it’s just about the project.”

“Nothing else? Really?”

“Of course,” Yi lied through his teeth. “Of course it is.”

Let’s think about your real reasons, shall we?

Fine.

The real reason for his silence was sitting on a slip of paper underneath his bed. The subway seer had left their transcribed fortune to him just a day later (on gold-bordered cardstock, no less, how decadent), and the thought of it hadn't truly left him since. It wasn't that he believed it, it's that the thought of a Taoist mystic being right about him in any way made him want to hurl. He wanted no part of that fortune anymore, even if it still loomed in his mind. 

Enter his problem with Goumang. Talking with her meant some part of that fortune could be fulfilled down the line, invalidating him. Getting close was a risk, and not one Yi was raring to take. She was just important enough to Yi (and probably to the seer) that she would have to play some role, some idea, some pre-defined purpose in their narrative. Lover, traitor, both, it didn’t matter— she had to play a part. She was like a character in a cosmic stageplay, written by Penglai’s most scantily-clad dramatist for Penglai's most cynical academic. 

If he could take her character out of that opera as much as he could, the better. His life didn’t have to be written and scripted out, and if it was, hers didn’t have to be. She didn’t need to bear his burden by association with him.

Yi figured that justified things. It was moral to stay quiet. For her sake. 

You’re being flaky, not moral. Even if you were, the morality you’re talking about is based on a system you don’t even believe exists. If your life is all laid out for you, everyone else’s is too, so whatever happens to her you can’t prevent. If you have free will, you’re just being an asshole to her. So pick a lane, Yi. Pick because you’re no more special than anyone else.

His sudden judgment of himself caused his mind and voice to fall silent. He forced himself to refocus. 

He requested the next number again. Kuafu, of course, didn’t budge, and kept on the same topic.

“Yi, I get the stereotype of telelurgists and… women… but come on. You’ve had weeks to talk.”

“I know. I just don’t want to. If she reaches out to me in person then I’ll reply, but if she doesn’t—”

“—You will anyway because it’s both the right thing to do, and more importantly, it’s the thing that Dr. Eigong thinks is the right thing to do,” Kuafu interrupted. The way he sounded like Yi’s inner voice alarmed him. 

Somehow, though, that was something that could always be admired about Kuafu. He was the one Solarian who could act more reasonable and stable than Yi without sounding facetious. Still, Yi had to deflect.

“I disagree. I think she’ll appreciate my reasoning.”

“Goumang or—”

“Dr. Eigong,” Yi answered. 

“I doubt it. She’s very direct when it comes to communicating with me. She’s pretty direct with you and Goumang as well. You’ve met with Dr. Eigong how many times since you got here? Five? Ten?”

“Nine, plus once for every Virology lecture I’ve attended.”

“Has she sent you even a single slate message now that she can actually talk directly with you?”

A pause. 

“...No.”

“Talk to her, Yi.”

Obstinately, Yi requested the next number. Muttering, Kuafu obliged him. Yi started messing with the next switch, and silently cursed whoever designed the unit.

“I just don’t get you, sometimes, Yi. That’s all.”

“I understand. Still won’t talk.”

Somehow, I’d rather stay here with you, working on this fucking thing, than speak to her and risk anything happening.

Yi didn’t examine the implications of that thought too much. He didn’t want to, even though he knew— acknowledged, even— that they existed. The extent of those implications, he wasn’t sure, and he could burn that bridge when he came to it. 

He held the same sentiment for Goumang, when he thought about it longer. Maybe that was part of his confusion. 

Kuafu stopped for a second, and decided to smile his warm smile and move on. “... Okay, Yi. You don’t have to talk to her. You win.”

“Cool.”

Leaving themselves at that impasse— it didn’t feel like much of a “win” for Yi, and Kuafu didn’t seem too unhappy about losing the argument— they continued to work quietly. Kuafu only spoke in numbers and Yi spoke in the word “Next” and assorted expletives. Some standard, and some from his home vernacular that he had to explain to Kuafu. All very bad, though.

They worked side by side for hours after that. The hands of their clock turned quickly, and for every switch it felt like the hands turned faster. For every error it felt like it slowed. Yet, despite their complaining about the work, not once did they complain about each other. Not once did they complain that the other person did something incorrectly or pushed something into the wrong place. They merely worked, side by side, speaking in a tongue only they could truly understand.

They could’ve been the only two Solarians left in the universe and not cared a lick. Because right then, their work was all that mattered.

Yi grimaced.

All of that, and you’re afraid of getting too close to Goumang.

He reached into his pocket and took a pill out, setting the stylus down for the first time in ages. His hands shook at first, then as the meds set in they seemed to settle down. His chest, for just a moment, stopped burning. It would return slowly, he knew that, but the relief made him audibly sigh once he could process it. About fifteen more minutes passed.

“Next.”

“Seven.”

“Next.”

“Eight.”

“Next.”

“None. None left.”

Yi set down the stylus as carefully as he could. His painkillers were great, but this was euphoric if Kuafu was right.

“It’s… it’s over?” He asked, his voice creaky and tired. A shit-eating grin crossed his face. 

“Yeah… Yi, it’s… it’s over,” Kuafu laughed, almost dejectedly.

He pushed a button on the unit that locked all of the switches in place. It was indeed over. 

Yi debated just falling over and sleeping on the floor. Another part of him wanted to stumble over to his bed and pass out there. Something else in him shouted the name KUAFU for that same purpose and was quickly snuffed out. 

Yet, the biggest part of him wanted to stay awake and see his work in action. He wanted to see the program run.  

“...What was all that for again, Kuafu?”

“Lowest data consumption tuning algorithm of… of Fusang energy systems… ever, I think…” he drifted. He snapped his eyes open a few times mid-sentence.

They both silenced for a moment, fighting the urge to sleep.

“Do you… do you want to… you know?” Yi asked, almost cooed because of how exhausted he was.

Kuafu groaned as he rose from his chair. He grabbed a clear box with gnarled roots and a few wires inside, and sluggishly hooked it up to the computing unit.

“I assume… this is what you wanted… right?” Kuafu muttered, eyes narrowed at Yi. Why he had to narrow his eyes at Yi’s proposal was strange to him, and Yi was too tired to look into why that was. 

“Yeah…”

“Let’s run… it… then.”

Kuafu pressed a button, and the unit hummed to life. A fan began whirring, spitting a thin layer of dust out of an exhaust vent. A few lights came on saying that it was indeed running, and some of the switch conduits started to glow a cold blue color.

The Fusang roots inside the box began to glisten with energy, a very bright energy Yi hadn’t seen before in his life. He’d thought he’d seen the Fusang pushed to its limits before, but Kuafu’s work… it was something else. It was a masterwork deserving of its own pages in the history books, and it was all made in the span of a single night. All made because two Solarians just did this together every night as an obligation to their university. 

The world seemed brighter, despite the inevitable pitch-darkness waiting outside. The both of them felt warm looking at their achievement. 

Then they felt warmer. 

And warmer. 

More dust coughed from the machine.

Warmer.

The Fusang grew brighter.

Warmer.

The unit grew louder. Their joy was irradiating them now. 

It was no longer warm. Now it was hot.

Suddenly, a smell like a bonfire hit their noses. 

Hot, like acupuncture needles against their skin. Their joy wasn’t the thing irradiating them. It was something much, much realer.

“Kuafu… do you smell… smoke?”

They saw a gray plume rising from the Fusang box. A plume rising from a very bright, very orange, and very hot flame in the middle of their dorm.

They looked at each other.

“Fu—.”

“I’m going to kill both of you.”

Whatever sleepiness they once had dissipated completely. Fire has a way of doing that.

Despite almost burning alive ten minutes before, an angry Goumang was still the most imposing thing facing them. She looked like she could stab them without so much as a blade in her hand. No, like she wanted to stab them. Now. 

That imposing image was subverted by the fact every one of them, especially Goumang, was soaked to the bone. Their project had triggered the sprinkler system. Everyone evacuated the dorms and no one was harmed, but not before they were completely drenched in the coldest water Yi had felt in his life. 

Goumang’s fur, usually pristine and kept carefully out of her eyes, now draped down into them. She tried to wave it away, but it would always fall back right into her line of sight. Her steel legs looked like they’d waterplane the moment she took a step.  She wore no feathered sleeves that night, but the way her robe spiked up and down from the deluge made her look like a blackbird caught in a maelstrom. The garment used to be fluffy. Now it just resembled Yi’s wet fur, sad and pathetic-looking. 

The look almost made her pinned-back ears and the barely concealed rage in her eyes look comical. 

“Goumang, how was I supposed to know that—”

“Oh, shut up fatass,” she snapped. “Your shitty experiment woke me from the best night of sleep I’ve had in a month. A month! You know how long that is? You know what that does to someone?” she interrogated, nearly reaching over to shake Kuafu.

“Sheesh, I’m sorry,” Kuafu murmured. 

“I hope you are.”

They fell silent. 

Yi seeing the two of them at the same time again reignited that same feeling he had on his first day. It put him back in that place between excitement and unease, the place between the two paths. 

For some reason, that made Yi feel like he had to apologize. 

“To be fair, half of this was my fault,” Yi admitted. He looked away from both of them, maybe out of shame and maybe out of fear that looking in either of their eyes would do something to him.

“Even better, now I have two people to blame for this,” Goumang seethed, throwing her hands in the air. “You shouldn’t even be allowed anywhere near a computing unit if anything I’ve heard about you is true,” she hissed, pointing at Yi. He drew back from her. 

“Been through worse,” Yi deadpanned. 

Goumang looked down at him in utter contempt, and mumbled something to the effect of “You’ll learn what ‘worse’ really is if I have anything to do with it”, and turned away from him.

“I’d love to learn,” Yi dared. She snapped back and they both glared— well, Goumang glared, Yi just snarkily gazed— at each other. 

For just a moment, there was that same spark between them that they felt on that first day, and her mood seemed to lighten. Of course, Yi could only tell because her ears went from flat against her head to slightly perked up. She was obviously still pissed, but in a bantering sort of way, not in the I’ll-strangle-you-now way. 

“Oh, so now he wants to talk to me,” she cackled. “After weeks, threatening to kill him makes him interested. Are you hearing this, fatass?”

“I’m… certainly hearing… something,” Kuafu faltered, looking between Yi and Goumang. He shot Yi a glance with the message “I told you she was mad at you” written all over it. 

“I sent you over twenty slate messages. I… thought you’d respond,” Yi replied.

She gave a sidelong stare at Kuafu. He shrugged. Her expression changed quickly from one of irritation to genuine confusion. She cocked her head to the side.

“I live next door,” she stated.

It was Yi’s turn to shrug. He said nothing. A breeze whistled behind them.

“Tao, you’re weird. Burn down our dorm just to get a word in edgewise,” she observed. 

“Not the first time. Blew myself up to get a scholarship. Blew up the dorms, and I got a few words with the great Goumang,” Yi aggrandized.

“I am great, thanks for noticing,” she smirked. “The greatest, even, probably the greatest researcher—”

“—Assistant researcher,” Kuafu coughed.

“Researcher on Penglai.”

“I’m sure Dr. Eigong would love to hear you say that,” Yi commented. 

“Okay, maybe not that great, but like, a close second.”

“Fourth at best. Kuafu and I have published research.”

“No, I thought fourth refers to your ranking in all this, right?” 

“Nope. Yours. Be proud of it, four is a cool number, I think. It’s like two, but less interesting. I’m two, by the way.”

“—Actually, I think I’ve published more papers than—” 

“Right, four is interesting. Like how it’s four in the morning and I hate having to deal with you right now.”

“And me with you.”

Yi noticed how they had gotten incrementally closer to each other as they bickered. How their smiles had grown wider despite their words growing harsher. Current flowed freely between them as they continued to banter, the words coming out of their mouth naturally. Yi could almost go on autopilot while he argued with her. That let him stay in his own head.

Unfortunately, that let him stay in his own head. 

Aww, you’re already flirting like an old married couple. 

This isn’t flirting. This is an argument. 

That line is thin, Yi. You of all people should know that.

I’ve heard mom and dad argue like this. This is an argument.

Is this really the kind of argument they had at the dinner table, or the kind they had in their room at midnight before they started—

Alright, alright, I see your point. Now fuck off. 

Of all the memories of his childhood he wanted to forget, that was one of the few he couldn’t. Admittedly, it was probably one of the more… standard experiences he had as a child, but it didn’t stop it from bothering him even as an adult.

The thought of being in that sort of relationship with her made him want to throw up. Throw up in the butterflies-in-stomach sort of way, not the expired-milk kind of way. Like there was still a part of him that wanted to have that relationship, even if it made him sick. Given how she looked— even when she was completely waterlogged, she was objectively attractive— he couldn’t blame himself for that. Natural drives are natural.

But how she acted, how they acted was another matter entirely. Maybe that was the other part of the fortune that irked him, that he’d get forced into a relationship and bicker all the time like his parents did. That he’d let that screw his kids up like they did him, minus the traumatic injuries. All because he had his fortune read that one time. 

You’re afraid of a relationship, and you’re already thinking about your kids?

Prophecies are usually permanent. I’m thinking long-term here, and I don’t see it.

That last part was a lie. He probably could see it, if he tried. But it all ended up just like his parents did, if you replaced Taoist dogmatism with cutthroat academia. There was no way it would end up working. Still, he tried to visualize a life with the woman in front of him. With anyone in front of him, really.

Logically, he kept his eyes off of Kuafu. 

He coughed. The smoke from the fire, however brief it was, must have gotten to him. He pulled out his meds and took a pill. Almost instantly the pain in his chest dissipated, and he wouldn’t have believed that he was just in another accident. 

That’s two in an hour. Watch yourself.

Yi shivered. Goumang gave an awkward laugh.

“What, is talking to me so bad you have to medicate yourself to keep going?” Goumang jabbed. He barely noticed that he’d been arguing with her the whole time he was pouring over their relationship. 

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Yi lied. It was almost the opposite, the medication sobered him up so he's stop talking with her. He could think more clearly on the drugs than off of them. 

A pause, and they turned away from each other. Still, a crackle of static remained between them, one that quietly burned in his guts like a carbonated drink. He could hear a quiet chuckle coming from Goumang, but otherwise their silence stretched forever. Evidently Yi was funnier when he wasn’t thinking.

He heard a gargantuan sigh from next to him. Kuafu punched him lightly on the shoulder and flicked his head towards her. “Project, Yi,” he ordered, his voice the most assertive he’d heard it in the entire time he knew him. Either he was sick of being a third wheel to the entirely nonexistent bicycle of Yi and Goumang, or he was genuinely interested in Yi’s academic work. Probably both. 

“Right,” Yi said. He turned back to face her, and most of the joviality left his voice for the clinical Yi he knew and… knew. 

“Goumang, did you actually read any of the messages I sent you?”

“Yeah. I read them and ignored them to toy with you,” she deadpanned. Yi couldn’t quite tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

Yi ignored her. “Remember that project—”

“Already set up an appointment between us and Dr. Ethereal for noon today,” she interrupted. There was a certain sting placed on “today” like that wasn’t supposed to be the word she used.

Yi was taken aback. “Oh— uhh… thanks, I guess, I’m sort of surprised that you—”

“All the times you were recommending were screwing with my lab schedules. I figured I would set one up based on your schedule and mine, since I can see it on the student portal.”

“Well, I—” Yi started. He cut himself off.

How nice of her.

Are you kidding? I’m not available then, I have a history lecture— she knows I have a history lecture. That, and scheduling an appointment for someone without them knowing about it is just—

Yeah, yeah, Yi. Complain all you want. Doesn’t change the fact that she tried to help.

Complain all you want. We’ll never work as a couple.  

We’ll never work as a couple.

With six words, everything in the world seemed to stop.

I just had an epiphany. 

It felt like he’d figured everything out. He found the loophole. He found a way out of this mess so quick and so easy that it made a car salesperson’s deal look complicated. 

The fortune could be subverted.

He knew that he and Goumang would be incompatible. She was arrogant for herself, he was arrogant for himself, she was smart, he was smarter but she’d never admit it, she was boisterous, he was reserved, they were a regular collection of opposites. Opposites attract, sure, but Yi understood that was only true to a point. See exhibit A, his family.

So he figured that he’d probably be unhappy if they became partners. Unhappy enough that even if he found enjoyment in it (which, realistically, he would), there would always be something keeping him from that dreaded L-word the mystic was on about. Yet, there would be enough happiness to keep it going. He'd tie himself to someone he could reasonably spend time with and banter with, someone he could go out with and tell his sister— and that’s it— about, someone to whisper nothings to in those quiet hours of the night. Someone to talk to, that was all. That was a luxury he'd never had before. 

But that wasn’t what he cared about. That was all a bonus. What mattered was this: he could hitch himself to someone he probably wouldn’t love so that the real lover would never find him. He’d be too busy with Goumang for them to pursue. Half of the prophecy gone in one simple gesture, it was brilliant.

He couldn’t help but grin at his own perceived genius.

Goumang cocked her head to the side again, noticing how Yi had gone silent. She chuckled. “What, Yi, going to cancel on me and go silent for the next few weeks? Again?”

“No. I was going to say that that time sounds fine. I’m looking forward to it,” he said. He filtered his words carefully. He used an undertone that suggested "And I'd like to get to know you better" that was more than friendly. 

Goumang stretched out her hand to his once again, and he took it. Cold, inviting, and washcloth-damp. Maybe the last part wasn't the best, but he couldn't blame her since it was his fault.

“It’s a deal, then, Yi. Thanks for finally speaking up to me. Literally.”

The humor afforded Yi a single exhale out of his nose. It was a shame there were no easy jokes to make about Goumang like there were about him and Kuafu. Hopefully he’d find one as he got to know her. 

So, the sun kept rising, and all the while the three of them just stood around and talked to each other, though it was mostly Yi and Goumang with a few interjections from Kuafu. Random conversations that had nothing to do with academia, just things that happened to them. Letters to Goumang from Solarians she knew back home. Yi’s first call to his sister, which went shockingly well for how worried his sister could get. Kuafu’s encounters with family members who worked in KYRI’s staff. Everyone had something to tell, and everyone had something to say back. 

They spoke like they were catching up at a tavern instead of outside of their dorms while they all shivered in the cold. They spoke like friends. Yi thought that was a good base to start on.

The sun kept rising. The local fire company came and swept the building, and found that nothing and no one had been harmed outside of some water damage to fragile scrolls. Yi knew to keep a wide berth from the art students now, at least. Eventually, the company said the students could re-enter their dorms. As Solarians flooded in, the three stayed outside for a moment. Yi couldn’t help but stand proudly for his idea.

The sun peeked over the dorms now, casting an orange light down on them. Shadows stretched across the world. With them stretched Goumang, who seemed raring to go back to sleep. 

“I’m heading back in, I don’t know about you two,” Goumang yawned. “See you later, Yi. If you don’t flake out,” she jabbed. 

“See you,” Yi replied.

Their gazes lingered on each other for a moment, and current flowed between them. This current was slow and steady, like both of them knew the vibe that was going on between them. After all, there had to be something on both ends for Yi to even consider his plan, otherwise he was just being a dick by leading her on. There had to be something on his end for him to even think about doing it too. 

She turned away from him, yet the voltage between them still remained.  She headed to the dorms, and Yi noticed how her shadow bounded across the ground with her movement. How it weaved in and out of sight like she was one of those beings that spiritual folk like to talk about. She was out of sight in a few heartbeats, though Yi strangely wished she’d stay just so he could revel in his genius a bit longer. 

This idea is brilliant. There’s no way it’ll fail. 

“Well?”

Yi and Kuafu looked at each other in silent, exhausted agreement to head inside.

“Let’s go, then.”

Before Yi took a step, he could make out Kuafu’s shadow looming over him in the sunlight, casting his entire figure in darkness. A warm darkness, but a darkness still.

Something in him disquieted. 

It has to work.

“Yi?”

“Right, let’s go.”

It has to work. 

He took a step. Yi shuddered. He looked once more to the shadow and saw that it hadn’t moved. It flickered, though, distorted as if by heat. 

No, distorted as if by fire. Fire that set the world in motion. Fire created only by and for themselves. Fire made away from cosmic eyes, yet woefully guided by a cosmic hand. Fire that brought them close, close enough they mistook the flame for their own joy. Fire that left them in each other's hands without a care for the rest of the world. 

Yes. Distorted by their silent fire, made alone in the comfort and quiet of the night.

The euphemism wrote itself. Yi coughed. Hard. 

Every plan goes up in flames with time, Yi.