Chapter 25 Yiran
Yiran
“Here, try it on,” Tesha said. She was practically vibrating with excitement.
Yiran took the slinky piece of metal she was waving at him. He slipped his right hand in and flexed his fingers. The glove
she’d given him was woven from steel, but it was so light and malleable he wondered what witchcraft the Maks possessed. But
their trade secrets were that—secrets.
“What do you think?” Tesha looked like she was about to bounce off the walls.
“Fits like a glove,” Yiran deadpanned.
Tesha shrieked with laughter.
“She’s easily amused,” Teshin said, shaking their head.
Yiran made a fist. “How do I use it? Do I . . . punch things?”
“It isn’t a weapon weapon, but it’ll help you manage your qi for now,” Tesha explained. “If I did it right, you should be able to cast spells
without leaking too much spiritual energy and spiraling out of control.”
“Leaking?”
“Mm-hmm. Didn’t you know?” At Yiran’s look of confusion, she went on, “Teshin told me about the incident in the simulation
on your first day at the Academy, and after seeing you channel the other day, we both think that’s what’s happening. Normally,
when you channel with proper technique, magic flows out in a natural and steady state. Your technique is adequate, but your
magic is highly unstable—probably because of the tampering. It comes out in bursts and spurts, like there’s too much of it.”
She shrugged. “It leaks.”
“With that amount of spiritual energy circulating inside you, it’s strange how it took so long for things to manifest,” Teshin
added.
The Mak twins seemed to know more about spiritual energy and magic and weapons than what Yiran’s lectures were teaching him.
And they seemed to think that it was his grandfather’s tampering that was the issue here.
It could well be that, but Yiran knew it was also because the magic he’d been trying to use belonged to Rui and not himself.
Yiran avoided Teshin’s curious gaze. “Time to give this a try.”
He brought his gloved hand to his chest. On the next exhale, he swept his arm out, fingers spreading, palm facing the empty
wall of the workshop.
A shimmering crimson circle half the size of the wall formed in front of him.
He let out a victorious shout. He had never succeeded in creating such a large and stable defensive shield before. He held
it for a few more seconds before pulling back. He was growing accustomed to his trigger point—an invisible line he imagined
in his head. Cross it and his spirit core would burn. But each time he practiced, he nudged the line forward just a bit.
“He chose a defensive spell.” Tesha nodded at Teshin. “Just like you said he would.”
“It seemed safer to,” Yiran said, turning to Teshin. “How’d you know I would?”
“Logic,” they replied.
But Yiran felt there was more they weren’t saying. He raised his hand and tried to channel again. The glove sparked, and he
yelped as the heat needled his skin.
“Sorry! It’s a prototype, so there might be some issues,” Tesha said. “It’s a chicken-and-egg situation, that’s what’s annoying.”
She removed the glove for him and examined it. The weave pattern was warped in some areas.
Yiran asked, “What do you mean?”
“If you matched to a spiritual weapon already, I could leverage that to craft something to stabilize the leak. But if I can stabilize the leak first, I could probably make you a highly customized weapon you would match to. Thing is, stabilizing the leak is the more complicated way.” Tesha stared out the window of the workshop at the Mak ancestral shrine, deep in thought.
“I’ll have to rethink the design,” she murmured to herself.
But Yiran had latched on to what she had said. If what Tesha needed was a weapon he matched with, there might just be a way
to make that happen.
The last bell was ringing when Yiran got back to the campus. He had memorized Rui’s schedule to keep track of her and knew
exactly where to find her.
Just as he expected, she was walking out from her final lecture of the day, looking like one of Sweets’s blackberry-flavored
lollipops. She had thrown an oversized sweater over her school uniform, and wore thick wool leggings tucked into angry boots.
Unlike Ada’s cheery pops of pink among her darker clothing, black was Rui’s only color of choice.
Yiran straightened. She was carrying her sword bag like she always did.
The flow of cadets parted way for Rui as she trudged down the hallway, looking deep in thought. Yiran caught a few looks batted
at her, curious ones that made him assume she was respected yet unliked—but only because she was unknown. Sometimes he couldn’t
help but think they each were two faces of the same coin. Their methods were dissimilar, but equal. He pulled people in and
lulled them into a false sense of proximity; Rui simply pushed people out.
He’d intentionally confided in her at the bench by the sea, and she’d softened toward him for a while as he predicted. But
her scowl had returned soon enough, and now it was a magnificent one that could sink a thousand ships. It was her go-to expression
whenever she looked at him. Yiran was getting fond of it.
He caught up to her. “Hey.”
Rui didn’t stop for him, so he walked with her.
“What do you want?” she said.
“Is there an Academy rule against saying hi to someone you know for no other reason than saying hi?” Yiran caught a faint
smile on her face.
“You ignored everyone else and came right to me. What do you want?”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
It took a liar to understand another, and Yiran was a very good liar. And it took someone who spent his life pretending to
be untouchable to recognize someone else who was performing the same act with a different script.
Rui wasn’t fine at all.
She glanced up at him, something furtive in her eyes. “Is that all? I’m in a hurry.”
“I thought you were done with class. Where are you going?”
“Zizi’s.”
Had the wizard figured out how to reverse the spell? They’d exchanged a few brusque texts previously, but he’d gone silent
in the last few weeks.
“Something up?” Yiran said lightly.
“I haven’t seen or heard from him since that night at karaoke. I’ve tried calling, but he’s not picking up. I’m going to check
his shop.”
“I can give you a ride there.”
Rui shook her head. “I won’t take long.”
Yiran decided not to push it.
“He told me he was going to sell the spell for a lot of money and leave the city if it worked,” she continued, uncharacteristically
willing to talk to Yiran today. Maybe it was because he was the only person who knew of Zizi’s existence in her life. “The
spell worked, didn’t it? Even if it didn’t work the way he meant it to. What if he aban—” She stopped talking and picked up
her pace.
Abandoned.
She was going to say abandoned. His mother’s face flashed in his mind, but he stuffed the memories back into the vault where they belonged.
“Zizi doesn’t seem the sort to bail on his friends.
” Yiran didn’t know if it was true, but he knew it was true in Rui’s case.
“Maybe he’s out on some pilgrimage looking for rare herbs or maybe he’ll show up in your room tomorrow.
” Yiran flailed, putting on his best Zizi impression.
“What’s up, Rui? I fell asleep in a cave and lost track of time, but I discovered a way to solve all our problems. By the way, do you like my clown pajamas? I got them for half-price at a sale.”
“Zizi can’t get into the dorms. There’s security.”
Yiran waved a hand. “Teleportation.”
“That’s not how his magic works—that’s not how our magic works. Haven’t you been listening in class?” Rui said, exasperated. “We can’t vanish into thin air. That’s ridiculous,
the stuff of fantasy movies.”
“I was being hyperbolic. But my point remains, the wizard’s not gone forever. He’ll come back.”
“I hope you’re right.” She seemed like she wanted to say more, but she pressed her lips together and walked on.
Yiran groaned. “I can’t believe you got me to defend Zizi of all people.”
“Why are you defending him? I thought you hated him.”
Yiran replied as solemnly as he could, “Hate is a strong word. An intense repulsive feeling of dislike would be a more accurate description.”
Rui finally laughed. She had a lovely laugh. He wished he heard it more. When they both stopped being jerks to each other,
that connection from the magic transfer felt . . . comforting.
She gave him a look as if she could tell what he was thinking.
A riff from an indie rock song started to play.
Yiran answered his phone. Rui tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to be done. He was doing a bad job of keeping
his expression in check.
“Okay, we’ll be there.” He hung up, his stomach crawling with anxiety. But there was a glimpse of opportunity. A chance to
get hold of one of Rui’s swords.
“What’s wrong? You okay?” she said.
“I hope you have something presentable to wear. You’re having dinner with my grandfather.”
Rui’s mouth hung open. “Tonight? Why?”
“Something about meeting the top student at the Academy and the person who saved me from a Revenant. You can’t turn it down.” Yiran couldn’t imagine any cadet saying no to meeting the Head of the Exorcist Guild.
“Oh my gods, oh my gods,” she said, her eyes wide, hands to her head.
Yiran was amused by her reaction. No one was immune to Song Wei’s reputation. “I’ll pick you up at the station after you’re
done at the shophouse.” He paused. “My grandfather’s probably going to ask you about that night.”
Rui narrowed her eyes. She understood him perfectly. “We can rehearse in the car.”