Chapter 40 #2
Minghua froze for a heartbeat and then beamed with genuine joy. “You want to learn Mandarin?”
Poppy nodded, cheeks warm. “If you’d teach me.”
“I would love to.” Minghua took Poppy’s hand, gently tugging her toward the bench. “We’ll start simple.”
Before they could sit, footsteps thudded loudly across the flagstones. Mingjun appeared, cheeks full of stolen buns.
“What are we learning?” he demanded, already grinning.
“Manners,” Minghua said primly. “Poppy wants to learn proper Mandarin.”
“Oh,” Mingjun breathed. “This is going to be incredible.”
Minghua ignored him and turned to Poppy with big-sister earnestness.
“Okay. The easiest introduction is wǒ jiao. It means ‘I am called.’ You say that and then your name.”
“Wǒ… jiào… Poppy,” Poppy repeated carefully.
“Very good!” Minghua nodded. “Now, Tone is important. Jiào uses a falling tone. It almost sounds like…” She paused, brow furrowed as she rested her chin in her palms. “Like meow but shorter. You know? Jiào. Like a little miao.”
Poppy blinked. “Oh! Okay. Like… meow.”
“Exactly!”
Mingjun’s smile sharpened like a knife.
Poppy inhaled deeply, determined. “Wǒ… m—”
Minghua nodded encouragingly.
“Māo Poppy.”
Silence. Then Mingjun exploded. He collapsed backward onto the bench wheezing, a bun rolling out of his hand.
“She… sh-she said, ‘I cat Poppy!” He was gasping. “She’s a cat. A cat, Poppy.”
Poppy’s eyes flew wide. “What? What did I say?”
Minghua slapped a hand over her own face. “Oh no. Oh, Poppy. I-I explained it badly.”
Mingjun was howling. “Māo means cat. You just said, ‘I am cat Poppy.’”
Poppy turned crimson. “Minghua! You said it was like meow!”
“I meant the tone, not the word!” Minghua protested, flustered. “Tone. Not vocabulary!”
“I just called myself a cat!” Poppy groaned.
Mingjun rolled on the bench, kicking his feet. “Best. Day. Ever.”
Poppy glared murderously. “If you tell Mingxi—”
“Oh, he’s definitely hearing this,” Mingjun wheezed.
“Mingjun, I swear—”
Minghua shooed him off like an annoying bird. “Go away if you’re not helping!”
Mingjun scampered off, still laughing so hard his tails bobbed like flags.
Minghua turned back to Poppy, cheeks pink from secondhand embarrassment.
“Poppy… I am so sorry. That was my fault. But truly… your willingness to try… That honors us more than perfection ever could.”
Poppy’s mortification softened into a shy smile. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Minghua said warmly. “Now, one more time. Slow, careful. Wǒ. Jiào. Poppy.”
Poppy inhaled. “Wǒ… jiào… Poppy.”
Minghua lit up. “Beautiful!”
A faint cackle echoed somewhere from the back garden.
Poppy groaned. “I hope Mingxi never finds out.”
Minghua looped her arm through Poppy’s, guiding her gently toward the lantern light.
“Come. I’ll teach you how to greet the elders next. And absolutely nothing that sounds like a cat.”
Mingjun sprinted across the courtyard like a fox kit with a secret too big for his body to contain.
“Mignxi. Mignxi,” Mingjun wheezed, skidding to a stop so abruptly his tails fanned out like startled plumage.
Mingxi looked up from the low stone bench where he’d been reviewing the elders’ notes. “What is it now?”
“You are not prepared,” Mingjun gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Your woman… sh-she—”
Mingxi’s eyes narrowed. “Say a single idiotic thing and—”
“She told Minghua she’s a cat.”
Mingxi froze. “What?”
Mingjun dissolved into a fresh wave of laughter, leaning against a plum tree for support. “She said… she said—” He was choking. “Wǒ māo Poppy!”
Mingxi blinked. Once. Slowly. “That means—”
“It means,” Mingjun crowed, wiping tears from his eyes, “I cat Poppy.”
Silence. Wind stirred the blossoms.
Mingxi closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “Minghua.”
“Oh yes,” Mingjun added gleefully. “She told her the tone sounded like meow, and Poppy thought it was meow, and… oh, gods, she tried so hard—”
Mingxi’s eyes snapped open. “Tried,” he repeated softly.
Mingjun blinked, mid-snicker. “Well. Yes. She was… very determined. And earnest. And embarrassed. And—”
But Mingxi was already standing. His feelings had shifted from exasperation to something quiet and unbearably gentle. The kind of thoughts he reserved for rare things—fragile things—things he never expected to have.
He didn’t say another word. He simply walked.
They crossed the courtyard as lanterns flickered to life, warm gold blooming against the dusk. Minghua saw them coming and grimaced.
“I explained tones wrong,” she blurted. “It was my fault.”
Poppy covered her face with both hands. “I’m never speaking again.”
Mingxi stopped a few paces from her. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease. He didn’t even smile.
He just looked at her—really looked—and something in his chest twisted. She’d tried. Despite everything. Despite being alone in a world that wasn’t hers. Despite not knowing their customs, their language, their rules.
She’d tried because she wanted to belong.
“Poppy,” Mingxi said quietly.
She peeked between her fingers like someone bracing for execution.
“I heard you attempted Mandarin.”
Poppy groaned. “Attempted is generous.”
“Did you wish to learn it,” he asked gently, “because you felt obligated?”
She lowered her hands, eyes softening. “No. Because it felt… rude to have everyone changing everything for me.”
Mingxi felt surprise, but then something far deeper. He stepped closer.
“You honor us,” he said simply.
Poppy blinked fast. “By… calling myself a cat?”
He inclined his head, solemn. “By trying.”
Her breath caught.
Minghua placed a hand on Poppy’s shoulder. “See? I told you.”
But Mingxi wasn’t finished. He reached out—slowly, carefully—and touched Poppy’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Barely a graze. A whisper of warmth in the cool evening.
“You do not have to speak like us to be welcome among us.”
Poppy swallowed. “But I want to.”
Mingxi’s heartbeat stuttered.
Mingjun’s grin died in real time. “Wait. You’re touched? By that!”
Mingxi didn’t even turn. “Leave.”
Mingjun fled.
Minghua, snickering, followed.
Suddenly the courtyard felt still. Quiet. Silver blossoms drifted lazily around them.
Poppy looked up at him shyly. “I really want to get it right.”
“You will,” Mingxi murmured.
“How do you know?”
“Because you try harder than anyone I have ever met.”
Her cheeks flushed, but he did not sense embarrassment this time—but something warm and blooming. He held her gaze a moment longer and then stepped back, giving her space.
“Tomorrow,” he said gently, “I will teach you too.”
Poppy’s breath hitched. “Really?”
“Of course.” His lips curved ever so slightly. “But you will not be a cat.”
She groaned. “I’m never living that down.”
“No,” Mingxi said softly. “You are not.”
He hoped he made his words feel like a promise, not a tease. A promise that she wasn’t an outsider. Not anymore.
Later, lantern light followed them back to the pavilion. Mingxi walked her to the door, hands folded behind him. He flicked his tail—just barely visible—once, betraying nerves he’d never admit.
“Good night, Poppy,” he said softly.
“Good night,” she whispered.
She stepped into the pavilion.
The night breathed cool and gentle across the shrine as she slipped beneath her blankets, unaware that the days ahead—filled with lessons, laughter, warmth, and subtle falling—would make that fragile feeling bloom into something real.
Something she hadn’t had since Lysandra.
Something like home.