Chapter Four
Leander stepped off the plane, and the scent of China filled the air. There was a spice, a scent, an aura to the country he recognized, even after so many years. Salem asked from behind him, “Is this our new home?”
“We’re closer to it.” Chongqing was too big for Leander to feel comfortable.
Westerners were everywhere, and any of them could be a spy, if not for Druwolf then for the other groups that would be interested in an American magic user.
People in the countryside would hate them, but they would let Leander and Salem stay once they saw the magic he controlled.
“Remember your name,” Leander whispered.
Salem nodded. Leander was Lian. It meant lotus and was less likely to attract attention on paperwork. Salem was now Shanlin. Mountain forest was a good name, but Salem needed to get used to it.
Salem walked next to Leander, and he let his hand fall on the boy’s shoulder, letting everyone know the boy was his. There were too many people rushing past, and he had an irrational fear Salem would get lost.
“Ba?” Salem asked.
Having Finn’s child call him father still left Leander disquieted. “Yes, Shanlin?”
“How long will it take us to reach our new home?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Will it take hours or days?”
Leander sighed. “That will depend on the trains.” And whether Leander could find the town based on a description Heng had given him over a decade ago.
Nie Heng had tried to convince Leander to stay in China because of Leander’s stupid, drunken confession.
After Leander refused, he’d made Leander memorize the route from Chongqing to the Orange Flower Hills.
“Are the trains slow?”
“You ask too many questions.” He led them to the customs inspection. This is where they would learn whether Erio’s paperwork could pass inspection. If not, Leander was giving the American government the perfect excuse to arrest him.
“I’m sorry,” Salem said softly.
Leander stopped and looked down at the boy. They had only each other now. “I will answer questions when we are alone. But when we are around others, especially when we are in a crowd, I cannot take time to give you full answers. Understand?”
Salem nodded solemnly, and Leander suspected he had made a mistake, likely the first of many. But he couldn’t have a complex conversation in the middle of the airport, so he guided Salem into line.
When they reached the front, they moved to the next available clerk. “Paperwork.”
Leander handed both sets over, and the clerk scrutinized them for long minutes.
“Why have you come to Chongqing?” he asked in halting English.
“I lost my wife, so my child and I are moving here to take care of her parents,” Leander said in his own badly accented Mandarin.
The clerk studied Leander before glancing at Salem.
Luckily, Salem’s hair was dark, and his eyes had a bit of a slant inherited from Finn.
It was enough to convince someone he was one-quarter Chinese, hopefully.
Leander’s own black hair was another blessing.
They could pass as father and son as long as no one considered the size of Leander’s nose.
“Where do her parents live?”
“Yaan,” Leander said. It was the closest non-magical community, and Heng explained that all magical people used it on their official documents.
“What are their names?”
“Father Nie and Mother Nie,” Leander said.
The clerk took a stamp and marked their paperwork. “Safe travels to you and your son,” he said.
Leander offered a shallow bow and accepted the returned paperwork with both hands. “Many thanks. Where can I find a money changer?”
The man gestured to the left. “The store is that way.”
“Thank you again.” Leander held out his hand for Salem and led them away.
His heart pounded hard, but Leander kept a neutral expression.
Working for Druwolf taught him to keep his opinions to himself.
Even though he rarely had time with the big boss, he reported to many underlings who revelled in verbally torturing him.
It was only after his magic had proved effective at creating drugs that he could protect himself from the sadists who worked for Druwolf.
Even Tecca with her blood mage powers had feared most of those asses.
At the money changer, Leander changed all his money.
The exchange rate would be worse in the smaller towns and cities.
When they left the office, he had enough renminbi to either live like a pauper for two years or a king for three days.
Either way, he would need to find employment once they reached Orange Flower Hills.
Magic knew no nationality, and those who lived near farms would always value what he could do. He wasn’t worried. Much.
“Can we get some food?” Salem asked. No. Not Salem. Shanlin. He had to get used to thinking of the boy as Shanlin and himself as Lian.
“We can get gaifan when we leave the airport. Food here will be too expensive.”
“Gayfan?
“Guy-fan,” Leander said slowly so the boy heard the difference.
“It’s a portion of rice covered in toppings.
We can have tofu or vegetables.” He didn’t mention meat because they couldn’t afford it until he found employment.
If either of them had a medical emergency or if they needed to bribe someone or purchase a place to sleep, their money would vanish too quickly.
Shanlin’s face twisted with disgust. In one way, it was nice to see he was a normal child, but Leander needed him to remain well behaved.
If he threw tantrums over eating vegetables, they were going to draw all the wrong attention, and Leander saw the irony because the food was one reason Leander had disliked China.
He’d wanted French fries and burgers. Those things were available, but they didn’t taste the same, and they were far more expensive than Chinese food.
Given they were in China, that was logical, but young Leander had resented every difference between China and his home.
And now, Boon Lian needed to teach his son to handle the transition better. “Consider it an adventure,” he said. “We’ll try new foods every day and at the end, we’ll make a list of our favorites.”
“That sounds... okay,” Shanlin said. His voice was weak with doubt, but he offered a smile.
Leander smiled despite his fear he was a fool bumbling in the dark. He had no business trying to parent anyone, much less Tecca’s child. She was in the afterlife cursing him. Creatively. “Then let’s start our adventure.”
Shanlin’s smile grew more genuine, and Leander led them toward the exit, both their bags slung over his shoulder. They should take a cab to the train station. There would be more affordable food there, and they could buy tickets for himself and his son.
Leander’s stomach still lurched every time he thought of the boy as his son.
Shanlin remained quiet until they were in the cab and Leander had given their destination in English.
Then he turned so his back was to the driver and he crouch ed awkwardly in front of Shanlin.
“Magic is different here,” he whispered.
“Your mother was a blood mage, but here, magic users do not specialize the same way. Any magic user can develop his power until he can leap taller than trees or fly or develop superstrength.”
“Really? But magic is unique to each person, and each person can only do one thing.” Shanlin was wide-eyed with wonder, too na?ve to understand the danger inherent in what Leander was saying.
Leander himself had pushed the bounds of plant magic to the point he did things most Western flora mages considered impossible. And he’d been in China long enough to grasp how different magic users were here. “Magic will always earn respect, but our magic is different.”
“Am I magic?” Shanlin asked, his voice rising above a whisper.
Leander glanced over his shoulder to see the driver focused on the road and the drama playing on the radio.
The woman was just learning a doppelg?nger had replaced her husband.
He had missed Chinese dramas. They were so ridiculously over-the-top that he enjoyed the pure fantasy, and the driver cared far more for fictional drama than what his passengers were talking about.
“I’m sure you are,” Leander whispered. “Your parents were so powerful. Your mother—she had more control than anyone I’ve ever heard of with her gift.” Since blood mages were so feared, they got written about far more than boring gifts, like flora magic.
“But I’ve never shown any gift.”
“Your parents hadn’t either by this age,” Leander said.
“What about my grandparents? My mother never talked about them.”
Leander closed his eyes. “She never met her parents. They left her at a firehouse when she was a baby.” She had always suspected they were magic users who wanted to keep her out of the system, but none of them knew for sure.
Leander’s father had walked out before Leander was born, and he liked to imagine his father was protecting him, even though it was more likely he didn’t want a pregnant girlfriend.
But the overwhelming hope his father had loved him haunted him, even today.
“Your father’s parents died when your father was in grade school, so you don’t have grandparents, but what are you going to tell people about your family?”
Shanlin sat up straighter. “I’m Shanlin Boon.”
“That’s fine, but remember, say your family name first.”
Shanlin winced. “I knew that. I’m Boon Shanlin.
My father is Boon Lian, and his parents are both dead.
My grandfather on his side died when my grandmother was pregnant, and my grandmother died before I was born.
My mother was Nie Tessa, and I’ve never met my grandparents, but we’ve come to live with them because my father needs more family after my mother died. ”
Leander patted him on the knee. “Perfect,” he said.
Shanlin shook his head. “I got the names backward.”
“You’re from America. People will expect you to get the name backwards. It’s fine. Now understand, these people will be very formal. They have a history of thousands of years. They don’t want to change, and we don’t want others to judge us, so we have to make sure we are clean and polite.”
Shanlin rolled his eyes. “You said this on the plane.”
Leander’s knees were aching from the cramped space, so he shifted back to his seat.
“I know I’m repeating myself, but it’s important we make a good first impression. Because you’re young, everyone will expect you to be quiet and listen to your elders.”
“Because being older makes you right?”
Leander blinked at Shanlin without speaking, and he slowly shrank in on himself.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Running his fingers through his hair, Leander looked out of the window at the shop signs in Chinese and the unfamiliar cars. He remembered this—the frustration at being forced into an unfamiliar culture.
“I wish I could make this easier,” he said.
“When I was eighteen, I hated how everyone expected me to be so polite when I wanted to tell them to jump off a bridge.” Leander had almost said something more vulgar, but he remembered Shanlin was a child.
“But China has magical communities that have survived millennia. Their culture makes sure people are polite to one another, and they don’t have the same hatred between people who have power and those who don’t. ”
“People always hate anyone with power.” Shanlin sounded miserable.
“No,” Leander said. “We don’t have power, but if we can find a good family to work for, they’ll take care of us.
They’ll give bonuses if I work hard, and they may even give us a place to live.
They know that if those who have power share what they have to support the community, then the community will support and care for them.
That keeps the power from turning into resentment.
Their system works, so please be respectful to anyone older than you. ”
Shanlin looked out of the window, but he did nod. Leander didn’t think he would get better. “Can we practice the bow hands?” he asked without taking his gaze off the road.
“Of course.” Leander made a fist with his left hand and rested his right hand on it before he bowed until his head touched the back of the seat.
Shanlin fisted his hand, but he put his fingers in the wrong place, and Leander corrected him.
“Will it be terrible?” Shanlin asked quietly.
“Of course not.”
“Mom said we might have to go somewhere terrible.”
Leander’s stomach clenched. Where had Tecca thought she was taking her son? What had she told the police? Had she had an escape plan when she betrayed Druwolf? She wasn’t around to answer any of those questions.
“It won’t be terrible,” he promised even though he’d never been to Orange Flower Hills and Nie Heng might have died a decade ago without ever telling his family about the scrawny American who wanted to find an escape from the political shithole that was his country.
Maybe they’d be arrested. He could imagine an infinite number of terrible outcomes, but he lied and offered his best smile until Shanlin relaxed.
“Okay,” he said.
Leander wondered if all parents lied to their children.
.. and if they felt as guilty about it. If so, Leander didn’t know why people wanted children.
So far, all Leander was getting out of this was guilt and fear he was fucking up and a lingering regret he didn’t have the right words to make any of this easier.
Parenting sucked, especially when he was an emotionally shriveled husk impersonating a human being.