Chapter 57: Parting Ways (1)
Armed with the knowledge that he was leaving soon, it seemed that Master Feng, Uncle Kho, and Auntie Caihong decided that they needed to cram as much information as possible into his head before he went. The three of them poured over Uncle Kho’s map, pointing to spots and then talking at him, and often over each other, about the place. Sen soon realized that, even with his seemingly improved memory and thinking, he could never possibly remember even a fraction of what they were telling him. So, he started taking notes of key information. He focused on what he hoped were essentials, such as the names of people they either thought he should meet or that they’d like messages delivered to. He also made careful note of businesses they vouched for or, in some cases, businesses that they owned in whole or in part. There were a lot of those, although they weren’t concentrated in any one place. When Sen learned that Master Feng apparently owned a pastry shop on the far side of the continent, he simply couldn’t contain his curiosity.
“A pastry shop? Why do you own a pastry shop, master?”
“Oh, it wasn’t anything special. The owner’s daughter was nice to me.”
That got a sharp look from Auntie Caihong. “She was nice to you?”
Her look triggered a scowl from him.
“Don’t give me that look, Caihong. She was all of four years old. I look like her grandfather, but she didn’t know the difference. She saw me in the street, and I was grandpa after that. The shop was in trouble, so I bought the place.”
“Oh,” said Auntie Caihong, looking a little abashed.
Master Feng’s face took on a distant, pleasant look. “Get an egg tart if you ever go there, Sen. Delicious.”
Sen liked good food as much as the next person, so he agreed.
***
It wasn’t all information useful for travel, either. Uncle Kho decided that Sen not manifesting lightning qi was an injustice that simply could not be let to stand. It was here that Sen learned one of the pitfalls of the training approach they had taken with him. Uncle Kho had started naming qi channels that Sen should use to manifest lightning. It was only the look of pure incomprehension on Sen’s face that brought the detailed explanation to a halt. Uncle Kho had frowned then, paced back and forth a few times, then sighed. The old cultivator ultimately had to enlist Auntie Caihong and her diagram of qi channels to show Sen what to do.
It took Sen almost ten days of practice to first manifest the lightning and then get it under some semblance of control. He couldn’t create anything like the bolts of destruction that Uncle Kho had so casually tossed around, but the older cultivator didn’t seem to mind. He looked positively ecstatic when Sen could do it at all. Sen had worried that Master Feng might object to this approach to learning but he waved off the concern.
“It’s a useful thing to know how to do. You can use it to shock your opponents,” said Master Feng, before he started laughing.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“I see,” said Falling Leaf.
There was an undercurrent in those words that Sen didn’t understand. Was it anger? Was it hurt? He just didn’t know. Desperate to salvage something from the conversation, Sen improvised.
“You could come with me if you want.”
It might have been something he came up with in the moment, but the idea resonated with Sen. Falling Leaf was his friend. He trusted her. He’d trust her to watch his back. He’d never had that before. The more he thought about her going with him, the better he liked the idea. There was another excruciating pause as the cat seemed to think it over. She answered by shaking her head.
“I cannot. There is no place for me in the human world. I would be hunted.”
Sen wanted to argue, to protest that he would protect her, but he couldn’t make that kind of promise. He might mean every word when he said it. Yet, meaning it didn’t mean he could actually keep the promise. Still, watching all of his hastily constructed fantasies collapse was painful.
Not sure what else he could do, Sen said, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave you behind, but I do have to go. I have to stay in balance and, soon, I won’t be in balance here anymore.”
The big cat regarded him with something in her eyes that truly didn’t understand. It made her seem more like a beast than she ever had before.
“You leave this place behind. Not me.”
With those cryptic words, she rose, went over to the wall, and casually leapt to the top. She looked back at him one more time and spoke.
“I may leave this mountain someday. Keep a watch for me.”
Then, she was gone. A part of Sen feared he wouldn’t see her again after that. Yet, she came and went in much the same way she always had. They did not, however, speak again. Still, the gravity of what was coming settled over Sen after that. There was a finality to leaving the mountain. He could feel it, but he couldn’t make sense of it. All he knew was that it meant change. Change could be a good thing. Master Feng bringing him up the mountain had been a change and, without question, had changed Sen’s life for the better. So, this new change could also be for the good or so Sen hoped. Yet, he didn’t know. That uncertainty weighed on him, even as the necessity of the change pulled at him, urged him on, called him to go, see, explore the world.
What had become clear to Sen was that change almost always meant loss. He would lose what he had here. He wouldn’t lose it forever or entirely. He could return and would find people waiting to welcome him with open arms. Yet, it wouldn’t ever be every day again. Not like it had been over the past years. He would miss it. As hard as parts of it had been, he had also come to relish the routines and challenges. He would also lose that surety that comes with having very experienced elders to guide him. He would have to make choices about cultivation with no guiding hands there to catch him if he made a bad one. There was freedom in that, yes, but also loss. All Sen could do was hope that he’d make the kind of choices that would let him look the members of this strange family that had adopted him in the eye with a clear conscience.
