Chapter Text
Nine sols
Tapestries
Chapter 21: Hell Week: Stuck in my Head
The next day…
Seated at his ergonomic desk, Yi absently stroked the cool metal of a stylus between his sharp claws. Before him, a vibrant hologram shimmered, displaying the intricate skeletal framework of a nascent prosthetic arm – Yong Le’s potential new limb – its components rendered in exquisite detail. His mind, typically a maelstrom of innovation, currently hummed with a different frequency, a low thrum of anticipation. His formidable intellect had already meticulously mapped the fundamental kinematics of the arm’s motions and rotations. Meetings with Doctor Yuxuan and Hēi huā were still couple of days away, making this project a timely diversion. Yet, beneath the focused calm, a familiar weariness stirred when he considered his upcoming check-in at the Transmutation Zone, the very thought of its acrid stench causing a subtle ripple across his fur. A faint huff escaped his small black nose, his shoulders slacking almost imperceptibly as he willed himself to relax.
“Ruyi,” Yi murmured, his voice low with weariness.
With uncanny immediacy, Ruyi coalesced beside him with a deferential bow. [“Yes, My Lord. How may I be of service this morning?”]
Yi gestured toward the shimmering projection. “I’ve already finalized the essential kinematics for the arm’s primary movements. Now, Abacus, I need you to run exhaustive simulations. Account for every conceivable articulation – every minute flex, intricate torque, and full extension – across all plausible scenarios, excluding grievous injury. Focus your parameters specifically on the nuanced mechanics of the digits, the subtle pivot of the wrist, and the full rotational range of the elbow.”
[“At once, Lord Yi,”] Ruyi replied with unwavering efficiency. Across the holographic interface, the nascent limb surged with simulated energy, commencing its myriad, complex computations through ephemeral light.
“Thank you, Ruyi. It’s a considerable reassurance that tangible progress will persist in my absence,” Yi continued, slipping from his ergonomic chair with the lithe grace of his kind. “And one fewer vexation to cloud my mind when I am forced to contend with Jiequan’s perpetual imbecility.”
[“Your profound detestation of Lord Jiequan is duly registered,”] Ruyi observed. [“I shall endeavor to mitigate any undue stress on your mental faculties, My Lord.”]
“Okay, first of all,” Yi interjected with simmering contempt. “you can begin by ceasing to refer to that bastard as ‘Lord.’ He is anything but.” The image of the man he despised with a visceral animosity, anathema to his very essence, flashed behind his red eyes. He wasn't even present, and already, Yi wanted the day consigned to history. “Second, apprise me of any and all developments concerning the Eternal Cauldron.”
[“While such a directive deviates from my core programming regarding Solarians of elevated station, I shall strive to meet your demands with utmost fidelity, My Lord.”]
“Very good. Now, while the simulations are being run—”
[“A thousand pardons for the sudden interruption, My Lord,”] Abacus interjected smoothly, his voice unwavering, halting Yi mid-sentence. [“I must inform your person that you are receiving an incoming communication from Lady Fú dié. Shall I establish the connec—”]
“Yes!” The word escaped Yi with uncharacteristic haste. He caught himself, clearing his throat with a sharp, performative cough to reclaim his composure. “I mean… yes, Ruyi. Please put her through. Establish a two-way visual connection.”
If Ruyi's intricate systematic perimeters allowed for such an expression, the AI would undoubtedly have been smirking at his Master’s rare display of unbridled sentiment. However, maintaining decorum, he merely executed the command without fail. [“At once, My Lord.”]
A few silent seconds stretched, then the air shimmered, solidifying into a vibrant digital screen before Yi. Fú dié’s face appeared, framed by the bustling activity of the Cortex Center. Her pink fur seemed to glow, and the dark tufts of her ears twitched with an internal rhythm. When her eyes met his, her expression softened into a look of pure, radiant affection.
["My darling Xiao,"] she cooed, her voice like silk that instantly soothed the frayed edges of his composure. [“Good morning, dear. I trust you enjoyed a truly restful slumber last night?”]
Yi felt a familiar, deep purr rumble within his chest, a low, contented vibration he fought to suppress, though a part of him knew Fú dié was already aware of his reaction. "After the absolute chaos of yesterday, it was most certainly a welcomed reprieve, Fúfú." A subtle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
[“It warms my heart to see you recharged,”] she said, her lips curving into a flirtatious smile. She leaned closer to the lens, her gaze heavy with affection. [“A shame I wasn’t there to wake you… I’m fairly certain a kiss or a few would have been a much more efficient way to start your day, wouldn't you agree, bǎobèi~?”]
Yi coughed again, his composure crumbling under her charm. He couldn't stop the small, genuine smile from tugging at his mouth. “I certainly wouldn’t have filed a formal complaint, Fúfú. In exchange, I would’ve seen to it that breakfast was prepared for us both had circumstances permitted the opportunity.”
A melodious giggle flowed between them, even across the digital divide. Fú dié’s smile widened. [“I still recall your breakfast efforts. A man of science and mathematics, yet it seems your analytical prowess extends masterfully to cooking as well. A Solarian of truly boundless talents, you are, my Xiao~”]
The praise, lavish as it was, settled comfortably upon Yi. He couldn’t quite contain a soft chuckle of his own. “You flatter me, Fúfú. But to compensate for the unfortunate lack of breakfast, perhaps dinner would be an acceptable substitute later today? After my daily check-in, I’ll prepare something special for your arrival. Does that sound agreeable?”
[“You lovely charmer~. I would be absolutely delighted, dear,”] she replied, her gaze softening further. [“And perhaps you wouldn’t mind if one other joins us?”]
Before Yi could voice his query, Xiaohe stepped into the frame as Fú dié made room. The smile on her face was radiant as she made eye contact with him. [“Lord Yi! A very good morning to you, Teacher!”]
"Ah, Xiaohe," Yi said, his voice softening further. "I suspected you were lurking nearby."
The young woman offered a respectful, albeit energetic, bow. ["My apologies, Lord Yi! I simply couldn't resist. It makes me so happy to see Mother’s face light up when she speaks with you. It’s the best start to my day, too!"]
A low, irrepressible chuckle escaped Yi, his shoulders trembling with the effort to suppress it as he watched Fú dié’s appendages gently brush the fur between Xiaohe’s ears. The looming pressure of his impending trial in the Transmutation Zone still hung over him, yet in this fleeting moment of reprieve, an unseen yet clearly felt shield seemed to encase his being. He exhaled a soft snort through his nose, his crimson eyes narrowing as he focused on the pair.
"I’m sure your mother appreciates the sentiment, Xiaohe," he murmured.
A giggle rippled from the young Solarian, though she was not yet finished with her interrogation. [“I’m just glad she’s smiling again. But Lord Yi, is it true? Are you and Mom officially dating?”]
The bold inquiry caught both adults off guard, painting their cheeks with a faint flush. Fú dié deftly used one of her appendages to veil her embarrassment, while Yi instinctively reached for the fur on his cheek, smoothing it down to soothe himself. Yet, the smile never faded from his lips.
“As straightforward with your words as you are with your ideas, Xiaohe,” Yi replied, his tone laced with amusement. “A date, however, has yet to be properly established between Fú dié and me—something that will need to be rectified—but yes. Your mother and I are indeed courting.”
He aimed a smirk at the pink Solarian on screen, whose face darkened to a deeper shade of rose as she returned the expression, matching his candor with her own subtle challenge.
[“Oh? Courtship, Xiao? How forward~”] Fú dié teased, her voice dropping in a knowing tone, yet rich with playful implication. She pointed a clawed finger at him from the other side of the screen, a coy smile playing on her lips as her eyes lidded rather knowingly which sent a shiver down Yi’s spine. [“Are you implying we’ve skipped the pleasantries entirely~?”]
It took a moment for Yi to process her implication. When the realization struck hard and true, his own face went an even deeper shade of red, realizing how archaic—and suggestive—his choice of wording had been and was effortlessly turned back on him. It was too late to retract the word and the pink Solarian on the holographic display simply giggled at his flustered expression.
[“You cheeky flirt~”] she purred.
The interaction elicited a clap of joy from Xiaohe, who turned to face her mother with a beaming grin. Just as Yi opened his mouth to offer a retort, the moment shattered. A soft hum vibrated through the room as Ruyi materialized beside Yi, the blue-tinted hologram flickering into existence with an air of urgency. [“Lord Yi, Lady Fú dié, a thousand apologies for the interruption, but it was imperative to inform you that Lord Ji has arrived, albeit unexpectedly, and wishes an audience with My Lord immediately.”]
[“Oh? Ji has come to pay Xiao a visit? Did he state his purpose as to why, Ruyi?”] Fú dié asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
["Nay, my Lady,"] the AI replied promptly. ["Lord Ji has merely stated that he wishes to speak with Lord Yi this instant. He was rather insistent."]
Something was immediately amiss. Yi’s blush vanished as if doused in ice water. Normally, Ji, despite millennia of wisdom and age under his belt, was still the prankster sort; appearing without warning to catch the other off-guard was just the sort of thing that Yi had come to expect from the Kunlun Immortal. However, for Ji to summon Ruyi directly, bypassing his usual theatrical entrances, suggested a gravity that belied his playful reputation. Yi felt a prickle of uncertainty crawl up his spine.
“Is that so?” Yi’s voice dropped an octave, losing its earlier warmth. “Abacus, see him in and relay that I will be with him shortly.”
[“At once, My Lord,”] Ruyi stated before dematerializing into blue particles.
Once the hologram faded and silence reclaimed the space, Yi offered the two females an apologetic smile. “It seems that I’ll have to cut our conversation short, Fú dié. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk a little longer.”
[“Nonsense, Xiao,”] she replied softly, her expression softening. [“This was more than enough to get me through the day. I know you have to deal with that man today, so I figured that my face would put you further at ease.”]
At the mention of Jiequan, a familiar revulsion rose in Yi’s throat, inextricably tied to the memory of Jìng Yán, the Solarian woman who under his supervision—for the lack of a better word. Thankfully he wasn’t overcome with disgust for her as he was able to know that the two of them were nothing alike, but the near uncanny near resemblance to Fú dié was still unnerving. Still, he made a mental note to tell her about incident about yesterday soon enough.
"More than you realize, Fú dié," Yi murmured, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "More than you realize. Now, I must go. We’ll speak again at dinner. Until then. Xiaohe, I will be checking your progress on the lessons I’ve given you."
["Of course!"] Xiaohe chirped. ["I have only one left, and I’m halfway finished with it."]
Yi paused, genuinely surprised. ‘So fast... It’s only been a couple of days; I expected her to take at least a week to complete her beginner lessons.’ He nodded in approval. "Very good. I look forward to seeing your work. We will proceed to the intermediate portion of your next lesson plan immediately after."
Xiaohe bowed gracefully. ["Of course, Teacher."]
[“Have a good day, Dear.”]
“Farewell for now, you two.” With a flick of his wrist, the communication link severed, the holographic projection collapsing into a single line before it thinned and blinked from existence. For a moment, Yi was alone yet just in time for Ji to make his way toward him.
The atmosphere curdled as the immortal drew near, the ambient warmth of the Pavilion dissolving into a chilling, almost oppressive, heaviness. Ji’s trademark lackadaisical smile had vanished, replaced by a grim, unyielding line. His eyes—usually closed in serene contemplation or crinkled with unsaid mischief—were now open and downcast, the lids heavy with a clarity that felt more like a burden than a revelation. The playful, ethereal presence Yi associated with his old friend was entirely absent; in its place stood a solemnity that prickled Yi’s instincts with a growing sense of uncertainty.
“Ji,” Yi began, pivoting to face the approaching figure. His voice was steady, though his posture tensed. “You usually just materialize when paying a visit. To have Abacus relay your arrival beforehand is… unprecedented.”
“My apologies, my friend,” Ji intoned, his voice devoid of its usual playful tone as he came to a halt before Yi. “But the tides have turned, and the Hexagrams are not in our favor.”
“Not in our favor?” Yi repeated, his red eyes narrowing. “Explain.”
Had this been the Yi of a previous timeline, he would have dismissed such talk of divinations as mere superstition and unquantifiable junk-science. But the crucible of the Fusang had tempered him, reshaping his understanding of reality. He no longer possessed the luxury of skepticism; Ji’s words carried a weight that demanded to be taken seriously.
“It is as I speak,” Ji continued. “The Hexagrams cried out to me. I cannot minimize or trivialize this: Destiny has placed us on a path, and it bodes ill for us all.”
Yi exhaled sharply. “As if the obstacles before me weren’t sufficient already.”
“Indeed. Forgive me for adding another malady to your burdens, but before I speak further, it would be imperative that we ensure the absence of sound to bless this conversation.” Ji’s gaze locked onto Yi’s, a silent understanding passing between them.
The implication was immediate and Yi didn’t need the sentence completed to understand the gravity of the situation. If Ji required absolute silence, then it would be granted.
“I understand,” Yi started. “Abacus.”
[“Your orders, My Lord?”]
“Cut all audio within the Pavilion,” Yi commanded, folding his arms behind his back, his expression a mask of neutrality. “Place us in absolute silence until this discussion reaches its conclusion.”
[“Understood, Lord Yi. Commencing area-wide audio blackout.”]
Ruyi obeyed instantly. A moment of profound stillness collapsed upon them and enveloped the entire room, the ambiance of the Pavilion vanishing into a vacuum. It was not until the hologram rematerialized before Yi that the task was complete.
[“The Pavilion is now silenced. Lord Yi, Lord Ji, please speak to hearts content without worry of potential eavesdropping.”]
“Thank you, Ruyi.” Yi turned his focus back to Ji, his face unchanged despite the auditory void surrounding them. “Now, Ji. What is it you needed to speak with me about?”
“Once more, apologies aplenty,” Ji sighed. “I had hoped to forestall this a little longer, to prime you for what I must say. But once the Hexagrams spoke... that option was no longer available.”
“You’ve made that clarity quite evident,” Yi said, his mind racing. “Yet I can’t shake the feeling that there is deeper meaning when you speak of ‘us all.’ Am I correct?”
“As sharp-witted as ever,” Ji chuckled, though the sound was hollow, weighed down by the gravity of the moment. “Simply put, Yi, we can no longer afford to wait. We need Goumang on our side immediately, because she is inextricably involved.”
Yi’s expression shifted from neutral to an intense, focused stare at the mention of her name. “…How so? How is she involved… what did she do?”
“I do not know the specifics of her actions, Yi,” Ji admitted, his tone grave. “But for my Hexagrams to experience a sensation even remotely akin to the fear that you and I understand—and for her face to be the catalyst of that vision—she must be confronted. And as soon as possible.”
The notion that Ji’s Hexagrams could feel fear unsettled Yi profoundly, though he could not immediately articulate why. “Wait.. you said they FELT fear? Ji, is such a thing even possible?”
“No. My Hexagrams are instruments of divination, meant to observe the threads of fate without emotion or disobedience. For them to experience the sensation of fear, even by the most minute degree…” Ji paused, the moving eye on his hat seeming to pulse. “…is not natural, Yi.”
A cold dread, sharp and invasive, crept up Yi’s spine, causing him to shudder violently—a physical reaction he could not suppress. To hear such a thing from Ji, Yi’s ears folded back as his the white-slitted irises dilated, his heart now beginning to thump in his chest as his fur prickled on his neck.
["My Lord, your vitals are spiking. Heart rate and cortisol levels are elevated. Are you unwell?"] Ruyi’s voice cut through the silence, laced with concern.
"I’m fine, Abacus," Yi started, his voice tight. He took several deep, deliberate breaths, forcing his mind and body to stabilize. "…I’m fine. Thank you for the alert."
The revelation had triggered his fight-or-flight response, but Yi knew better and took control of the situation and regrounded himself. Panic was a luxury he could not afford; it wasted energy and clouded judgment. Doing what he did best, he compartmentalized the fear and focused on the solution.
"...Right," Yi said, his composure restored. "If Goumang is the source of this disturbance, we have to move. What’s our new course of action, Ji?"
“What needs to be done is that if we’re to proceed forward, then Goumang needs to know about your Foresight ability, Yi.” Ji stated plainly, keeping his eyes focused on Yi.
Yi considered this, his mind racing through the implications, knowing the risk of bringing her onboard while still trying to decouple Goumang from his mentor’s grasp. “While I agree she will eventually need to know, what of Eigong? Aren’t we trying to break her hold on Goumang?”
“Eigong’s hold is weakening, of that I have no doubt, but at the current trajectory and with my divination being brought forward, it’s not enough.” Ji countered. “We must accelerate the process. I know a method to do so, though I can only hope her heart and mind are resolute enough to withstand the after effects.”
The final clause struck Yi as ominous. “Her mind and heart? Ji… what do you mean by that?”
Ji fell silent. A fleeting flash of disapproval crossed his features before he took a breath, reaffirming his resolve. “It means the time has arrived for me to finally reveal the truth of her heritage.”
“...What?” Yi’s reply was breathless, his eyes widening as his arms fell to his sides. “Her heritage, Ji, what are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said, my friend. Although forced, it is time she learned of the past and her destiny bound to it.” Ji offered a small, apologetic smile. “And I would have Kuafu accompany us as well to serve as witness. For you, my friend, Goumang’s destiny also pertains to your own fate in all of this.”
“My own fate?” Yi repeated softly, the words hanging in the suspended silence. He glanced at Ruyi, then back to Ji. “Wait… going back to what you said a moment ago. Why is Kuafu involved in this now?”
“Kuafu is not merely a witness, Yi,” Ji continued, his voice dropping in tone. “He is the anchor. When the storm of truth hits Goumang—and you—Kuafu will be the steady hand that keeps us from drifting apart. He may believe himself a casual observer, an incidental companion, but his significance is far greater than he currently realizes.”
“I’d rather not get my friend involved with all of this, but If that is indeed true and he’s apart of what comes next,” Yi started cautiously, his analytical mind already calculating the variables, “then we best get started. What would you have us do?”
“For the immediate future, my friend, you are to undertake nothing out of the ordinary. Merely maintain your customary routine. Well,” Ji chuckled, a dry, cynical sound that held more self-deprecation, “as ‘normal’ as one can be after apprehending such disquieting knowledge. Once the stage is set, I shall summon the three of you to my grotto. For my part, the onus falls upon me to enact the next phase: to subtly entice Goumang. I must present her with the slightest hint of her hidden destiny, provoking her into seeking the truth herself.”
Ji then turned away from Yi, though not without slightly hanging his head, the tassels on his fez swaying with the motion. “Perhaps then the debt I carry can finally be settled…”
“Debt?” Yi repeated, catching the slip. "Ji, how long have you held onto this obligation?"
A chuckle escaped Ji as he turned to face Yi once more. His trademark smile returned, but there was a hollowness to it that even Yi could detect. "Longer than yourself, your father, your grandfather, your great-grandfathers, your ancestors and beyond have been alive, Yi."
Yi found himself utterly speechless. He knew Ji was an immortal, that much was very clear at this point, but the sheer, unfathomable scale of that time, juxtaposed with the personal burden of a "debt" for as long as only he could know, rendered him momentarily incapable of formulating a response. Ji noticed the expression on Yi’s face and merely offered one last, almost sorrowful chuckle as he turned away again, raising an arm, his thumb and middle finger pressed together in a universal gesture of departure. “Now, I shall take my leave. Until your summons, my friend, I wish you a good day.”
With a metallic snap, Ji vanished from their sights, leaving Yi and Abacus alone in the palpable silence. The new information Yi learned was indeed heavy, but he knew that he had a job to do. As burdensome as it was to have the word: “Debt” linger in the back of his mind, he would leave it alone for the the time being and focused on what he could do until the appointed hour. “Right, I best get a move on, myself. Abacus, relinquish the silence. It’s no longer needed and I’ll be heading out to the Transmutation Zone now. Should I get word of Ji, do not delay the notification.”
[“Of course, I wish you the most productive day.”] Ruyi replied while diminishing the audio blackout, restoring sound back into the Pavilion.
Meanwhile, in the Agricultural Zone…
"And that concludes our successful shipment route to the Yih Kingdom." The voice, crisp and efficient, belonged to one of Goumang's subordinates. She stood straight, one hand neatly folded against her back while the other held a holopad which she was reading off of. "The current supplier has no immediate demand for resupply, but they would like to schedule a future shipment of extra Optoberry seeds within the next quarter."
Goumang merely hummed, a low, resonant sound that barely acknowledged the report. Her long ears, usually attuned to every relay of successful shipments that reached her, were now slanted in preoccupation with her own thoughts. Though her eyes met the subordinate’s, a distant haze veiled them.
"What's more," the subordinate continued, unfazed by her Lady's quietude, "Shipments two through fifteen are currently in transit, navigating the borders of the neighboring Kingdoms of Guifang, Ying, Shang, and Yan."
"Ah, splendid," Goumang murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her voice. "Ahead of schedule then. Excellent." Her clawed hand settled on the biometric scanner beside her office door. A soft azure light washed over her palm, identifying the unique patterns as the heavy plasteel door slid aside with a muted whoosh, revealing the semi-dark sanctuary within. "Relay these projections to Hēi huā. Have her tentatively write in the Yih Kingdom's forthcoming request, and ensure we receive detailed manifest copies for all inbound orders to the listed Kingdoms. I want no possible discrepancies."
"Of course, Lady Goumang. It shall be seen to." The attendant completed a respectful bow.
"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some concepts to cultivate." She stepped inside, the door whispering shut behind her, severing her from the judging gaze of her court. Slumping back against the smooth, cool metal, she allowed a long, arduous sigh to escape, her head following suit. Here, she could finally shed the mantle of impeccable composure.
Eigong's words from yesterday still gnawed at her, a persistent burr under the saddle of her ambition. Her esteemed mentor, usually a fount of encouragement, had been uncharacteristically dismissive: ‘your efforts are secondary, they take too long, consume too many resources.’ It was the perennial struggle of Agriculture, Goumang mused, pushing off the door with a frustrated shove. A discipline of deliberate gestation, of slow, methodical growth, purposeful and patient. It could not be rushed, should not be rushed. She knew all too well that a hasty harvest yielded nothing but blight and everyone suffered as a result. Yet, Eigong's decree had been unequivocal. There was no room for debate, only for Goumang to play her part, to wait for her turn, which seemed perpetually 'eventual.'
Normally, she would’ve been angered that Yi had once again stolen the spot-light from her, probably screaming too. Her rivalry with Yi had been a constant since they met in the beginning of his tenure; a tempest of ambition and clashing wills. But that storm had long since quieted, quelled by the unimaginable circumstances he suffered as a child. The knowledge had softened her, replacing competitive ire with surprising support for him. She found now that she simply lacked the will to be petty.
Another sigh, this time heavy with resignation, escaped her, knowing that pouting wouldn't solve a thing. With a renewed surge of resolve, she straightened, shaking off the lingering shadow of frustration. Burying her disquiet, she pivoted towards her desk, thoughts turning to the GM Fertilizer experiments awaiting her. "No sense in a tantrum," she murmured to the quiet room. "Just get through the day."
Her eyes, still adjusting to the dim light, swept casually across the surface of her expansive desk, a chaotic landscape of scattered scrolls bearing delicate script, nascent conception plans and intricate botanical diagrams. She expected the familiar disarray, but her gaze snagged on something else, something utterly alien to her organized chaos…
“What in Penglai…”
As she drew closer, the object resolved into startling clarity. Any Solarian farmer worth their recognition would recognize it instantly: a trowel. But this was no ordinary tool. Its simple form was elevated by an understated ornateness, the blade, though barely kissed by rust, was chipped from tip to spade, a testament to countless hours of diligent labor. The handle, too, bore the indelible marks of age, its once-rubberized grip pockmarked with holes, yet remarkably intact. What truly riveted her, however, was the insignia carved into the weathered material. The design of the marking was that of a Lotus, placed at the very apex of the handle and beneath were stems descending down the entirety in a helix manner, only to reach the base with roots coiling around in an unbroken loop.
It was a symbol utterly foreign, yet… it exerted an undeniable pull on her from some deep unknown part of her being.
A moment stretched for a span of time where she felt utterly mesmerized, unable to avert her gaze. Then, with a gasp, the spell broke. Her wide eyes, now alight with an intense, questioning scrutiny, darted around the room. "Did someone manage to get inside? No… They’d need my credentials to garner entry... so how...?" The security protocols on her office were absolute, leaving no room for worry for uninvited guests to witness her sensitive agricultural research.
She tried to rationalize it, but her eyes kept drifting back to the trowel. That sensation washed over her again—a strange, inexplicable compulsion to reach for it. As she did, the utility of the item made a connection of it’s purpose: Soil. Goumang was no stranger to the land, to the grit of dirt beneath her claws. Granted, thanks to the advancements of Telurgy and machinery, agriculture was made ten times easier and faster, but when she got down to it, nothing could defeat the sensation of moist fertile soil being held and made ready for use.
But this thing she was looking at? This… felt different …almost sacred, in a way.
Her heart ticked up a beat as she stepped forward. With a steady hand, she gently grasped the handle, her digits coiling around the aged material. The moment she felt the texture of the handle, a tremor running up her arm as an odd shudder coursed all though-out her body. She tacitly raised the item, calmly resting the bottom of the rusted blade in the palm of her other hand, handling it as if it were a newborn.
Then, it happened.
The handle started to pulse with a gentle, rhythmic light—a bright, welcoming viridian green hue that intensified the longer it remained in her grasp. The sudden luminescence made her gasp, as she jumped from the glow, yet her grip did not loosen or slack in the least. Rather, it only tightened. Anyone else of their right mind would’ve tossed the object aside in fear, but Goumang was transfixed. She stared at the shine, overcome by a piercing pang of feeling—a profound sense of emptiness, like something was missing… and she didn’t know why…
“What is this… what the hell is going on? It… I don’t… How…?” She scrambled to find the words, her voice trembling. The longer she held it, the more grounded she felt, until she brought the trowel to cradle against her chest. “Why do I feel this way?”
“A strange feeling, is it not?” a voice mused. “For the hands to remember something the mind does not, nor never knew.”
The sudden sound of the familiar voice made Goumang jump, yet her grip on the trowel did not loosen. If anything, she held it closer to her bosom in an almost protective manner.
“Ji!”
Stepping into view, Ji appeared almost ghostly against her office's muted tones. His snow-white fur seemed to drink the meager light that was allowed in. “An auspicious day to you, Goumang,”
“I should have known you were behind this,” she snapped, though the annoyance lacked its usual bite. She held the glowing trowel toward him defensively. “Did you break into my office just to leave me this… tool here?”
“It was indeed I,” Ji admitted, a faint, enigmatic smile touching his lips. “My apologies, Daughter of the Roots.”
Goumang’s ears twitched, angling downward in irritation. “Again with that damn nickname… I thought I told you not to call me that.”
“Mine apologies, Goumang. Surely you are accustomed to my eccentricities regarding those I hold in high esteem,” Ji countered smoothly. He glided closer, his long jade claws clicking softly against one another as he clasped his hands. “Furthermore, the title possesses a certain… ontological symmetry, given your profound affinity for the land and that which dwells beneath.”
“Need I remind you that our rapport is strictly professional? We were never—” Goumang cut herself off with a sharp, ragged sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her heavy eyeliner smearing slightly as she closed her eyes. The day had barely begun, and yet a profound weariness had already worn her down. “Forget it. Circular logic is your specialty, and I have no desire to dance. Since the obvious is already stated, is there a reason why you placed this thing in my office? And why the hell is it glowing like this?”
Ji regarded the trowel with a tilted head, a slender finger resting contemplatively above his lip. “The ‘why’ is a multifaceted jewel, Goumang. I surmised a mistress of the land would find solace in a tool of her trade. As for the radiance… well, even to one such as I, certain mysteries retain their captiving enigma.”
“Enough with the poetic obfuscation, Ji. I want answers. REAL answers.” Her claws tightened around the handle before she shifted her grip, grasping the flat of the blade itself. As she did, the intense glow began to ebb and dim, revealing the engravings etched into the tattered material—patterns that seemed to defy modern Solarian iconography. “This is archaic craftsmanship. Things like this don’t exist here in Kunlun. Beyond that, tools this old do not typically possess the intricacies of modern day Telurgy. Why did the hilt shine the moment it was in my grasp?”
The barrage of questions reached Ji, yet he simply stood there, now placing his hands behind his back as he endured it all. The ensuing silence was heavy, yet devoid of malice; he was merely gauging the most effective approach to this delicate exchange. After a moment that stretched taut between them, he parted his lips to speak.
“All valid queries, Goumang, I assure you. But, before I grant you the indulgence of answers—as tempting as they are to provide—allow me to bestow upon you one of my own.”
Another moment, albeit brief with a heavy silence.
“The moment your eyes fell upon the trowel on your desk—when you finally felt the weight of it in your grasp and it shone with such a welcoming brilliance… surely you felt something, did you not? As if… something was tugging at the very core of your being, yet you couldn’t explain why?”
That final utterance struck a chord, causing Goumang’s wide eyes to widen further as she came to understand something. Though she didn’t voice it, the sensation had been undeniable. When she had first grasped the tool, an acute sense of something missing had resonated within her—something… important. She couldn’t conceptualize the name or meaning of it, only experience it in her being. The hilt’s incandescent glow had merely amplified this uncanny phenomenon, sparking a cascade of new, unsettling questions. Just as she was about to articulate them—
"And the artistry of the markings. So complex, so minutely detailed, yet… impenetrable to your conscious mind, while simultaneously speaking volumes, almost familiar, to your unconsciousness… As if it had always been waiting for you…"
"Waiting… for me?" she breathed, the words barely audible. As she once again nestled the handle into her palm, that familiar, warm glow returned, her gaze utterly transfixed by the artifact. "Nonsense! Just… how does an… an item—"
"—await someone?" Ji completed, a soft, knowing chuckle rippling through him. "How, indeed. Which, by simple logic, implies your profound desire for further elucidation, does it not?"
"That, most certainly, goes without saying. Why else would I endure your prolonged presence when a multitude of tasks demand my immediate attention?" Goumang countered, one clawed hand resting impatiently on her hip, her focus now almost entirely captivated by the glowing trowel, only occasionally flicking to Ji. He observed her absorption, sensing the opportune moment to sow another potent seed of curiosity.
“My, what a scathing rebuttal,” Ji hummed, his shoulders shaking with quiet, internal mirth. "Not unlike her, yet so much…"
The casual mention of ‘Her’ snapped Goumang’s attention back to him, the word a sudden spark in the growing enigma. “‘Her’? Ji, what do you mean by that? Who are you talking about?”
“An answer to your query, I promise… if you truly wish to know more.” Ji pointed out, turning gracefully away from her. His arm, thin and pale, raised as his jade claws prepared for an imminent snap. “I truly must be on my way. Rest assured, the trowel is where it belongs and in good hands, but I will leave you with two parting thoughts. First: do not trouble Eigong with this matter. You will attain nothing by seeking her counsel. This is a truth only you can unravel for yourself.”
Goumang frowned, a scoffed sound passing her lips. “You too? Yi said the exact same thing.”
“And he is indeed wise to have warned you,” Ji affirmed. “Which brings me to my second point: Go to Yi. He carries a fragment of the truth that even he does not fully understand, as it will aid you on your nascent journey…”
“What? Wait, what?? What does Yi have to do with—”
Snap!
The sound of jade meeting jade echoed through the office. Ji vanished in a flicker of displaced air as Goumang lunged forward, her hand catching only empty space where the Immortal had stood a second before. Standing there with a clenched fist, it began to shake as her fangs were bared.
“Agghhhhh!! SUN AND STARS, JI!!” She roared into the empty office as her hand surrendered to gravity and her head slumping as she stared towards the ground. “Every. Time! You just say what you want then leave when it’s convenient! Damn you!”
As the echoes died away, the silence of the room wrapped around her once more. Slowly, she lifted the trowel, watching the way the light danced across her dark fur. She wanted to be furious—she was furious—but beneath the anger was a burgeoning seed of something else. Ji had turned her world upside down in a matter of minutes, leaving her with more questions than answers...
...This trowel glowing in her hand...
...This empty feeling that’s apart in her being...
...Yi's part in her discovery...
...Being told to stay away from Eigong…
...His constant use of that inane moniker…
...The unknown woman that only Ji knew…
Goumang's brow furrowed with determination. She tapped a command into the air, and a crystalline holographic window shimmered into existence. A startled adjutant appeared on the screen, bowing low.
"L-Lady Goumang? How may I serve you?"
"Cancel my schedule in two days from now," Goumang commanded, her voice regaining its authoritative steel. "I have an appointment to keep with Sol Yi, that day."
To Be Continued…