Chapter 21 Yiran
Yiran
Yiran was bone-tired after two full weeks at Xingshan Academy. He’d been studying and training like his life depended on it.
Which, he supposed, it did.
Days were capped with remedial lessons, late dinners, and little sleep, while weekends were focused on physical training.
For someone who had spent his life coasting through everything, this was a sea change. Plus, he had no social life to speak
of anymore, and the list of unanswered messages from his friends grew longer and longer. At least his spirit core remained
stable. The only pressing problem in that regard was his lack of a spiritual weapon. Without one, Yiran felt like a fraud.
It reminded him he was only here because of Rui.
He was trying to focus on what Teshin was saying now. The two of them had been huddled in the armory for hours, going back
and forth between the spiritual weapons on display.
“—it doesn’t make sense.” Teshin ran one hand through their mohawk and another hand across the selection of weapons displayed
on the touch screen. Their hair became loose and fluffy, making them look less stern. A string of metal rings hung from their
belt. An accessory or a weapon? Knowing Teshin, it was both.
“Sorry, I zoned out for a while. Ash made me do a bunch of drills this morning,” Yiran said, stifling a yawn. His grandfather
hadn’t contacted him, but his chirpy jerk of a half brother popped by often enough. “What doesn’t make sense?”
“You. You don’t make sense.”
Yiran stilled. Had Teshin discovered the questionable origins of his magic?
But Teshin was rubbing their eyes wearily, looking like they’d gotten up before dawn to run ten miles too.
“We’ve tried the swords and sabers, the crossbows and other ranged weapons, even unusual options like the bladed fan and the
umbrella,” Teshin said. “Heck, we even tried butterfly knives today. Sorry about that one, should’ve known you’d hurt yourself.
It takes a lot of skill to use one of those.”
Yiran relaxed. His secret was safe. “Don’t worry about it. I haven’t had this much fun in a while.” He wriggled his bandaged
fingers. He’d sliced them open while trying to spin the butterfly knives.
“Those are old, aren’t they?” Teshin said. “The other cuts on your fingers.”
Yiran shoved his hands into his pockets. He tried to smooth over his expression, but Teshin had noticed his discomfort.
“I’m sorry,” they said. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s in the past.” Yiran couldn’t bring himself to say more. He didn’t want to remember what his grandfather did to him,
even if the old man’s intentions had been good.
“The past should stay the past,” Teshin agreed. They tapped the screen, and it went blank. “I think we’ve done all we can
here.”
Disappointment slammed into Yiran. Despite knowing that a spiritual weapon was intrinsically tied to its wielder, Yiran had
secretly hoped to match with a weapon that wasn’t Rui’s somehow. He wanted so badly to find his own blade, to prove he was
his own person.
He forced a smile that made him feel worse. “Thanks for your help, Teshin. Sorry for wasting your time on a weekend. I’ll
buy you lunch sometime.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not giving up,” Teshin said, frowning. They glanced at their watch. “We’ve got some time
before our karaoke night. You’re coming over to my place. Mom’s not around, but my sister is.”
“Your sister?”
Teshin flashed one of their rare smiles. “The women in our clan are weapons artisans. Tesha doesn’t study at the Academy.
She’s homeschooled, and she learns the trade instead. She’s a genius. I bet she’ll come up with something.”
And just like that, Yiran’s hope returned.
The Mak residence was a sprawling compound of metal and brick. It lacked the sophisticated elegance of Song Mansion and the
eccentric appeal of Zizi’s shophouse, but there was an earthiness to it, a kind of rustic warmth that made Yiran think of
cozy evenings, laughter, and a large family.
Teshin wasted no time in bringing him to the workshop. There were blades in different stages of treatment, and weapons and
tools Yiran had no name for. The fire was going, and the place was warm. He shrugged off his jacket and slung it over a chair.
A girl their age was tending to the forge. She wore a long black cotton dress and lace-up boots. Her hair was in a messy topknot,
her eyes dark and focused. As they drew close, Yiran saw a clan tattoo like Teshin’s on the nape of her neck, disappearing
down her top.
She turned at the sound of their footsteps, wiping her hands on her worn leather apron.
“Yiran, meet my sister, Tesha.”
Tesha cocked her head. “Is this the weirdo you were talking about?”
Taking an instant liking to her, Yiran grinned. “The one and only.”
“Let’s have a look at you then,” she said, smiling back.
Teshin was her fraternal twin, so she didn’t resemble them. But the two siblings had the same quiet confidence, the kind that
came with knowing exactly what you were meant to do with your life. Yiran wished he could relate.
“Grab that sword over there—no, the one on the left,” Tesha said. “Go on, swing it around. Show me some footwork.”
Yiran did as he was told.
“You can stop.”
He put the sword down.
“I heard your fingers glow when you channel magic,” Tesha said. “Normally the crimson glow of yangqi only shows on a spiritual
weapon when it’s been imbued with the wielder’s magic; that’s why you’re a weirdo. Give me your hands, please.” Her smile
disappeared as she examined his palms, then the backs of his hands, and finally, his fingers. “Channel for me.”
Again, Yiran obliged. Sure enough, as his breathing pattern shifted, a soft crimson glow lit up around his fingertips. Not
wanting to strain his spirit core, he kept it slow and steady, a low-level flow.
“How’s your spell casting?” Tesha asked.
“Not too bad—”
“Mediocre,” Teshin said bluntly. “He can do better.”
“Ouch. Appreciate the honesty.” Yiran pulled his hands back.
Teshin turned to their twin. “Thoughts?”
“I think you might be right,” Tesha replied, crossing her arms.
Yiran couldn’t tell if it was a good sign or a bad one.
Teshin tilted their head, only for Tesha to raise her eyebrows in reply to what they were silently suggesting. Must be a twin thing, Yiran thought. A secret language between the two of them.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Someone tampered with your meridian pathways,” Tesha said. “But you already knew that.” The look in her eyes was kind, like
she understood what he’d gone through.
For once, Yiran didn’t feel defensive, just confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You don’t have to tell us what happened if you don’t want to,” Tesha assured him. “All I’m saying is whatever was done to
you might be what’s stopping you from matching properly with a spiritual weapon. I think your qi is circulating in a strange
pattern because of the tampering. It might also be affecting your spell casting.”
A bitter laugh caught in Yiran’s throat.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. His grandfather had tried so hard to extract magic out of him, to insist on something that wasn’t there, no matter the cost. No matter the damage.
To think that now, when Yiran could practice magic, it was the consequences of his grandfather’s past actions that were preventing him from achieving what the
old man wanted in the first place.
Yiran tried not to spiral. He had come so close, and each time he found another locked door he had no key for.
“What now?” he said, feeling helpless. “Do I just . . . walk away from magic? Do I—”
Teshin cut him off. “When I said I wasn’t giving up, I meant I wasn’t giving up on you.”
Yiran stared. It didn’t occur to him that Teshin would care that much. That Teshin would care about him. You’re just a weirdo, a puzzle to be solved, he reminded himself.
Tesha rolled her eyes. “Exorcists. They sure love saving people.”
“Can you find a way around it?” Teshin asked.
“Normally, I’d say no,” she said. “But there’s something about you, Yiran, the way your spiritual energy sprays out like, I don’t know, a fountain, for lack of a better description, that makes me think maybe there’s a chance. I think
we need to approach this from a different angle.”
Tesha played with her lip ring as she gazed into the fire. Yiran could almost see the gears in her head moving, clicking into
place as she hummed softly to herself.
“I’ve an idea that might work, but it’s going to take some time for me to get it right,” she concluded, her eyes sparkling.
“Told you she was a genius,” Teshin said proudly.
“Don’t brag about me until I deliver the goods.”
Yiran didn’t know why the twins were so set on helping him, or why they were doing so without asking for something in return.
He wondered if they would do the same if they knew how and where he’d gotten his magic from.
“What kind of weapon are you thinking of?” he asked.
“Not a weapon,” Tesha replied, “but something that can bypass the normal methods of channeling. I can’t guarantee it’ll work
though.”
Yiran nodded. “Anything’s worth a try.”
She took his hands in her callused ones again. “In that case, I hope you’re good at keeping still—we’re going to make a mold.”