I waved goodbye to Li Wei as he disappeared back into his family's workshop, his excitement about the greenhouse infectious. The glass panes had arrived in perfect condition, and he was eager to start installing them first thing in the morning. As I turned to head home, the evening air was crisp, carrying the subtle scent of pine and woodsmoke. The village was settling down for the night, but my mind was anything but quiet.
Walking along the familiar path, I couldn't help but replay Elder Ming's words from this morning's training session.
"Conditioning isn't just about toughening your body. It's about understanding the mechanics, the flow of energy, and how to deliver power without harming yourself."
At the time, I'd nodded along, thinking I understood. But the more I mulled it over, the more I realized I'd missed a crucial nuance. My approach had been all wrong. I was so focused on hardening my fists and shins by striking unyielding surfaces that I'd overlooked the essence of the practice.
I paused mid-stride and threw a punch into the open air, imagining the impact against a solid, unmoving tree trunk. My knuckles twinged at the thought, having experienced it far too often. Then I visualized the same punch connecting with something that had a bit of give, like a flexible piece of wood or bundled reeds. The difference was palpable, even in my mind. Striking a surface that absorbed some of the impact would allow me to focus on technique, ensuring proper alignment and energy transfer without the immediate risk of injury.
"A perfect punch shouldn't hurt the one throwing it," I muttered to myself, recalling Elder Ming's mantra. It made sense now. By practicing on something with slight resistance, I'd not only improve my form but also condition my body more effectively.
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as a plan began to form. I needed to build a training apparatus that embodied these principles; a target that could mimic the resistance of an opponent while still offering enough flexibility to prevent self-injury.
"Perhaps a post wrapped in layers of bamboo strips or padded with woven fibers..."
The last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and purple as I reached my home. The familiar sight of my shop and the partially constructed greenhouse brought a sense of comfort. I stepped inside, expecting to hear the soft flutter of Tianyi's wings or catch a glimpse of her darting through the rafters. But the space was quiet, save for the gentle creaking of the floorboards beneath my feet.
"Tianyi?" I called out, glancing around. No response. Odd. She usually greeted me the moment I returned.
Shrugging it off, I reasoned she might be tending to the garden or off bisecting another bird. She was a free spirit, after all. I made a mental note to check on her later.
Setting my thoughts back on the training apparatus, I rummaged through my supplies, gathering materials that might serve my purpose. As I worked, Windy slithered into the room, his blue-tinted scales catching the light.
"Have you seen Tianyi around?" I asked him.
He paused, tongue flickering before giving what could only be described as a serpentine shrug. I chuckled softly. "Thanks for the help."
Back outside, I began assembling the training post. I drove a sturdy stake into the ground, ensuring it was firmly planted. Around it, I layered thinner branches, binding them tightly with cord to create a surface that was solid yet yielding. Testing it with a light tap, I felt it give ever so slightly.
"Perfect," I whispered.
I took a stance, feet shoulder-width apart, grounding myself as Elder Ming had taught me. Drawing a deep breath, I executed a series of punches, each one deliberate and controlled. The post absorbed the blows, the slight resistance allowing me to focus on the mechanics—alignment of my wrist, the rotation of my hips, the grounding of my stance.
The difference was immediate. Without the harsh jarring of striking an immovable object, I could sense the flow of energy from my core to my fist. It felt right.
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The wings were the first thing I noticed, bright blue and shimmering in the pale moonlight, sprouting from her back and fluttering gently.
Her skin was smooth and pale, but it wasn’t quite right. Lines ran across her body in sections, like the joints of finely crafted lacquered wood or the seams of porcelain figurines. Each segment was slightly raised, as though her skin had been formed in pieces and fitted together. Her hair cascaded down, with two distinct strands falling down and framing her face.
It was her eyes that unsettled me the most—far too large for a human face, dark and shimmering, holding a depth that felt more animal than person. And though her form was otherwise unclothed, it was devoid of any real detail, as if she had been sculpted from jade.
And yet, her wings... those wings were undeniably familiar.
My mind struggled to comprehend what I was seeing.
I took a step forward, my mouth dry, words caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion. And then, the possibility hit me like a wave.
"...Tianyi?"
The figure turned, her too-wide smile gleaming unnaturally bright. My pulse quickened as she locked her gaze onto me. My mouth went dry, and a prickling sensation crept up the back of my neck. It felt like the earth itself was tilting beneath me.
The air shifted with her movement, a blur of blue wings and shadow. One moment she was distant, the next, her wings stirred the wind around me, her fingers wrapped around my wrists before I could blink.
But there was no attack. Instead, she grabbed my wrists, her grip gentle yet firm, and a warm, soothing energy flowed from her touch. The cuts and bruises from my training earlier began to heal, the pain fading away almost instantly.
"I figured it out," she said softly, her voice surprisingly clear, yet carrying an otherworldly echo. "I figured out how to become human."
My vision swam, blurring the world around me as the realization crashed into me like a tidal wave—this was Tianyi. Somehow, impossibly, she had transformed—become something beyond what I could comprehend. But my mind struggled to keep up, the flood of emotions and disbelief colliding with the stark reality in front of me.
A sharp heat surged through my body, too intense for the winter chill that clung to the air. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, soaking into my collar despite the icy breeze. My heart pounded violently in my chest, each beat louder than the last, echoing in my ears like the relentless drumming of war. I felt the world tilting, my legs unsteady, my skin burning as if the very air had thickened, pressing down on me.
The cold that should have been biting at my skin barely registered; instead, I felt fevered, my breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. Every nerve in my body tingled with confusion, panic, and awe, all tangled together in a mess I couldn't unravel.
Her smile, a smile that was too wide, too perfect, never faltered as she watched me, but the edges of my vision began to darken. The world around me dimmed, the sound of the forest fading into a muffled hum. My legs trembled, the strength in them slipping away as my knees buckled under the weight of everything.
“Tianyi...” I whispered, my voice barely more than a strained breath. My head felt too light, too heavy at the same time, and I knew I was losing the battle to stay conscious.
The heat in my chest rose higher, consuming the last remnants of my awareness. My eyelids fluttered shut, and as the darkness rushed in, the last thing I saw was her standing there, her wings shimmering faintly in the moonlight.
And then, everything went black.