***

Wei heard as Yao collapsed behind him, but he did his best to remain calm. He had only come to the Luoyin estate because his father tasked him with delivering a letter to Instructor Quan, but he noticed the shift in the air as soon as he stepped onto the inner courtyard leading to where Yao lived with his mother. The garden light didn’t flicker like it was meant to and Wei instantly knew what it meant.

His posture settled into the first stance by instinct as Instructor Quan left the room with a speed unexpected for her age. He squared his shoulders, spine long, heels aligned beneath the center of his weight. His arms rested with soft hands and flat wrists, one palm near his navel and the other poised mid-chest. He breathed into the space between.

The first strike came from the right, fast and shallow. It wasn’t aimed at Wei’s core but at his arm, a flicking motion with a thin blade meant to slice through muscle and reduce the stability of his guard. He turned his wrist, letting the knife whisper past his sleeve, adjusting his breath a half-beat behind its passing.

It was then that the intruders finally came into view. A man and a woman, both lean and quick, their black clothes mottled to blend with shadow. Each shifted through the fringes of vision, darting along peripheral edges where the mind registered motion too late. Their footing was light, erratic, wrong in a way that set Wei’s nerves on edge. They moved like people who had no center at all and Wei felt his heart pound in his chest.

Wei knew he stood no chance against two adults, especially when he couldn’t use inner qi. But someone needed to go get Yao’s mother, and Instructor Quan could air step. All he had to do was protect himself and Yao until they returned.

The woman moved first, her  left shoulder leading, her hands angled toward his ribs from below. Wei did not flinch. He dropped his weight into his heels, sinking half a finger’s length to re-center. The blow glanced off his side, knuckles grazing linen, but not the flesh beneath. His elbow answered, tight and close, no further than needed. He felt the impact of his joint meet the ridge of her collarbone as her weight folded inward. She dropped low to absorb the force, twisting away as her partner came in from behind her, nearly on all fours, hands braced like a sprinter.

The assassin’s strike came fast, palm to the back of his knee, designed to hyperextend and collapse the stance. But Wei was able to shift a toe-length forward, just enough to align his joint and disperse the impact through the floor beneath him. The pain still bloomed, dull and low along his calf, but his structure held. He quickly pivoted to stop the man from reaching Yao, catching the blade in his hand as he stepped inward. The edge sliced his palm, but he kept his shoulders level and let the blood fall freely.

The assassin didn’t pause. He recovered instantly, folding into another strike low toward the knee, the kind that crippled a stance. Wei retracted, anchoring his back heel and letting the leg loosen, allowing the strike to pass through the empty space where his joint had been. The woman came in at the same time, shadowing her partner, a flicker at the edge of his vision. She was too fast and Wei knew he couldn’t follow both.

So he didn’t.

He simply turned, letting the motion of her advance graze the slope of his shoulder. Her fingers scraped linen, catching nothing. His pivot folded inward, arms tight to the line of his body, and the woman slipped past, off balance. She corrected immediately, but not fast enough to strike again. Wei used the opening to pick up Yao, slinging the younger boy’s body over his shoulder. Without thinking, Wei adjusted his weight, maintaining his center as the two assassins disappeared from his view again.

Wei did his best to swallow his fear, knowing that Disciple Luoyin was likely on the way. The adults would return soon. They would–

Pain wracked through his left arm as the blade kissed deeper this time, raking along his tricep. Wei bit down on the sound that wanted to leave his mouth. His grip on Yao shifted slightly but he compensated, adjusting his stance with a breath and a tightening of the lower belly. He did not let the boy slide from his grip.

Both assassins were repositioning and Wei knew they hadn't expected resistance. He could hear it in the quick, staccato pattern of their feet as they widened their angle of approach. The woman blurred back into view, half-crouched with one hand to the ground, blood dripping from her weapon. 

Before Wei could try to find out where her partner went and move himself and Yao, he heard a quick yell, and the sound of a body collapsing. 

“That’s enough, Wei.” Disciple Luoyin’s voice filled the young boy with relief and he collapsed as soon as she stepped further into the room. “I can handle the rest.”

Wei glanced up as Disciple Luoyin stood next to him, blood splashed on her face and top. Her usually kind brown eyes were hard and focused on the blurred shape of the other assassin and Wei felt his body ache. His vision blurred as she leapt forward and Wei collapsed forward on the floor, worn out from his ordeal.

***

“Hey. Hey you.”

Yao groaned as he heard someone call out to him. It sounded like the boy from the mirror, but… different. 

“How long are you gonna pretend to sleep? Time doesn’t wait for you.”

“Go away,” Yao complained, but then his chest began to ache as if someone had grabbed his heart and was squeezing it. He gasped, opening his eyes to see a face looking back at him. 

It was a man, wearing robes and sashes that Yao had never seen before. His hair was long and dark and while Yao didn’t know who the man was, he did recognize the look in the man’s deep blue eyes. A mix of pain, of confusion, of loss, but most importantly, of anger. Yao didn’t know why he understood, but he did. 

“I don’t get to sleep.” the man whispered, his voice deep and rough, as if he had swallowed sand and smoke for too long and never found water again. He leaned closer and Yao tried to back away, but his limbs weren’t listening. It was like the world he had woken into didn’t have gravity the way it should. He wasn’t lying down, but he wasn’t standing either. “You will never sleep.”

“Let go!”

“We will never sleep.” the man continued, as if he couldn’t even see Yao in front of him. The man’s voice changed to a chorus of voices, and the sound made Yao shiver. “We cannot sleep.”

“Let go!” Yao yelled, finding the strength in his arms to try and flail against the man. As soon as he did, he left a familiar touch grab his wrist, and Yao blinked, seeing his mother holding his arm. She was looking down at him with worry in her eyes and at the sight of her, Yao’s vision was blurred by tears.

He jerked his arm back and wrapped himself around his mother, sobbing. Immediately, she returned his hug, gently stroking his hair. “It’s alright, Yao. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. It’s alright, Yao.”

His mother’s words were calm, but Yao barely heard them. Too many thoughts were swirling in his mind, dragging him down under their weight.

A blessing and a curse. Blood that will make others want to control you.

Cultivation is not something we get to choose.

You don’t have to fight. You just have to grow up.

We cannot sleep.

Yao buried his face more into his mother’s chest, wishing all the thoughts would go away. He didn’t want this! He didn’t want any of this!

“I know you don’t want this.”

A voice not his mother’s echoed in his ears, but it was enough to make Yao pause in his tears, unable to help the way the voice touched him. It was a voice filled with sorrow and regret, similar to when his mother had told him the story of the carp and the crane.

“I’m so sorry I can’t save you from this,” the woman continued and Yao opened his eyes, noticing the mirror’s weight in his pocket still. He also became aware of the bandages on his chest, and the warm touch of oil from his mother’s fingers in his hair. The woman in the mirror continued. “But I know you can do this. You are stronger and braver than you think because you want to protect those around you. Do not let this world take that from you. ”

“Ma,” a voice answered, and it took Yao a moment to realize he had spoken aloud. His mother stopped playing with his hair, leaning back so Yao could see her face. Her expression was calm, but he could see the trails on her cheeks from where she had been crying. 

“Yes, Yao?”

Yao felt his lips quiver and he just closed his eyes, hugging his mother once again. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. His throat burned and his thoughts were still tangled like thread after a storm, but he clung to her anyway. Her arms wrapped more firmly around him and the warmth of her skin pushed back the cold in his chest little by little.

We cannot sleep.

Yao felt his chest ache again, but then the woman’s words replaced the man’s.

Do not let this world take that from you. 

Like your mother, never let the world take that answer from you.

Yao swallowed, feeling the tension in his chest fade. He didn’t want to be special, but he couldn’t stop being special. And more importantly than that, 

He never wanted to see his mother cry again.