Twinned Destinies: A Cultivation Progression Fantasy

The world seemed unreal. The colors, how bright they were, the stunning green of the fluttering grasses, a little green ocean swirling with the winds—they’d stuck her in some dungeon near the servants’ quarters, she realized, somewhere she hadn’t known existed. She followed Mother on the long trek back, the shadows of the pines flickering over them. Mother seemed like she wanted to say something; she kept looking over, then looking away; she didn’t seem to know what to say. Ruyi had nothing to say to her. She was looking at the bright blues of the flower garden, the new blossoms they’d planted for winter. They were so delicate and translucent they seemed carved of ice. But they were stronger than they looked; they’d survived where those summer blossoms had withered.

The manor seemed emptier than usual. Jin was waiting for her when she came in. “Sis—”

She walked right past him. It took some effort to keep her face still. She heard his sigh trailing her as she went.

***

They set some new rules. First, they dismissed all the servants inside the house. Jin had had tutors coming in every once in a while, on weekends. Not anymore. No-one came to the estate unless it was absolutely necessary. They would do their own cooking from now on or have servants deliver it in frozen carts once a week.

Ruyi was not to leave the grounds at all without special permission. Ideally she wouldn’t leave the house. They would hold no more social events—no more Banquets. Every once in a while Mother hosted neighbors for lunch; sometimes Li family folk would stop by. That was coming to an end.

She learned why Father hadn’t come amid all that chaos—he’d been kept busy. There’d been a sudden surge of demons on the front, tens of thousands. They were supposed to keep the army occupied while Cultists wreaked havoc in the city. The Emperor was lauding the joint efforts of the Hero, Jin Yang, and the Prince Consort, Chen Qin, in halting the plot. There was to be an awards ceremony at the Emperor’s palace.

Jin declined his invitation.

***

Ruyi took her ink-eye herbs. She put on her pink body paint for her demon arm—she really would have to find something better. She used to tear through gloves when she wasn’t careful; only thick leather ones or gauntlets would stay. But now she was at ‘peak Demon Core,’ whatever that meant, her demon arm had shrunk a lot. The stronger she got the more human she seemed.

Maybe she’d get some better more skin-like paints?

***

Within a week the day of her date with Sen arrived. Ruyi asked for special permission to leave, but she would’ve gone even if Mother said no. Mother seemed to know it, too.

“Be careful, alright?” said Mother.

“Of course,” scoffed Ruyi.

Mother was looking at her funny. “And… this goes without saying, but Sen doesn’t know about you. So…”

“Yes?”

“The limb has to stay hidden. Of course, this doesn’t need to be said, but just to be sure—please, no disrobing, or anything like that—”

“Mother!” said Ruyi, reddening. “I’m not stupid. I said I’ll be careful. Besides—” She held up her arms. She had on silk gloves bound tight with rubber-like cuffs. “You’d need a crowbar to get these off.”

“Alright… Err—if you need anything, anything at all, say so. Would you like me to come with you? I’ll keep hidden.”

She shot Mother a look. “What do you think?”

“I’m only worried about you, dear.”

“Don’t be,” said Ruyi. She patted down her clothes—a dual-layer gown, part black, part gray, bound with a sky-blue sash. She’d done a twirl in the mirror. She looked pretty damned good, she thought, even for her. “I don’t even know if I’m ready for something serious,” she muttered. “Your imagination’s run away from you, Mother. There will be no funny business, certainly no disrobing—we’re seeing an art museum, for Heavens’ sake. I just… I think it’ll be good to see a friend again. That’s all.”

She watched Sen stepped out of her carriage.

Sen looked like she’d just stepped out of a training session, minus the sweat. She had on form-fitting trousers cut at the knees and a silk shirt riding up at her hips.

Ruyi swallowed.

She gave Ruyi a smile. Sen never smiled, but ever since the villa Ruyi had been encouraging her; Sen said she’d been practicing. A little timid blushing smile, just for her.

It was then Ruyi realized she was lying to herself.

***

“I was thinking we could start with the early Tang art,” said Sen, as soon as they got in the carriage. “Then maybe—”

“Shut up,” said Ruyi.

Then she couldn’t talk anymore, since Ruyi was kissing her like she was drowning.

This was what she’d needed, she realized. The problem was all the thinking, the talking. She didn’t need someone to pick at her wounds, like Mother kept trying to do. She just wanted someone to hold her and kiss her senseless and make her feel like everything was going to be okay. Really she just missed the feeling of being held, being so close to someone you could almost feel their heart beating. It had been so long since she’d felt so warm. And up close Sen was so red and so nervous it just made Ruyi want to kiss her more.

They broke apart forty minutes later because they’d arrived and the carriage driver was getting impatient.

They untangled themselves, fixed their hair and clothes, and went into the Imperial Museum together, her humming and skipping, Sen blushing and stammering. Ruyi wasn’t really in the mood for talk. She just wanted to be and not think. It was lucky Sen was happy to play tour guide. For the first ten minutes Sen seemed to be having a hard time stringing together coherent sentences, but she pulled herself together eventually.

They were here to see some of Sen’s favorite paintings—a special Tang Dynasty form called the Woodmorph. Woodmorphs were sourced from Phoenix Tree wood; they were so named because the wood shifted depending on the time of day, dying and rising three times—dawn, midday, and dusk. Master Woodmorph carvers would need to carve their morphs thrice, and the wood would remember those three shapes forever.

It was so easy being around Sen. Ruyi never felt the need to perform herself, like she did with Tingting. She could just relax and flow about and trust things would be okay.

Sen showed her a few of her favorites—“Life Cycle,” by Master Li Xian was the classic. When they got there it was Midday, so the wood showed an intricate phoenix in full flight, soaring through suggestions of clouds. They waited and watched as midday passed; the sculpture shifted to that of a phoenix making its nest as the sun set between mountain peaks.

Another exhibit was of “Moonlit Reflections,” by Lady Hua Ying. Lady Hua had managed to carve the image of a reflected moon, and the ripples surrounding it, on the face of quite non-reflective wood through the use of clever lighting, tiny chisels and the tiniest indentations.

These were Sen’s favorite kind of art: simple, pretty, nice patterns. There was nothing abstract here, nothing the artist was trying to hide from you in the art. Everything was clear and pleasant.

Ruyi just nodded and listened.

“Say—what’s that exhibit?” said Ruyi, pointing to a shadowed alcove in a far corner of the Museum. Sen was so happy to see Ruyi taking an interest in it—she’d been readying a long speech on a sculpture of a gingko tree—before Ruyi shoved her down and she realized Ruyi just wanted to start kissing her again.

When they got home, before Ruyi left the carriage, she made Sen promise to keep writing her every day. Sen hadn’t stopped blushing for three hours straight.

It was a good day—the best she’d had in a long time. She almost felt normal again.

***

Jin quit the guard. He announced it over dinner one day. “I’ve done what I needed to do,” he said. He didn’t look at her when he said it; she didn’t ask further.

***

A week later, the Emperor sent an invitation.

Jin’s declining his award hadn’t put the man off. He proposed that since Jin was nearing manhood—and in light of recent threats—the Hero should receive special training from humanity’s very best. The Emperor, and Huo Jianxin, the Sky-piercing Spear, were jointly inviting him to go Northwest, to the Phoenix Wing Prefecture. It was said that the trees there had trunks of iron, and rather than shed, their leaves burst aflame in autumn.

In the Luminous Peaks, the mountain range which split the Prefecture, there were hot springs few humans could stand that were much loved by flights of Phoenixes. It was there that the Blazeheart Temple, one of humanity’s great powers, resided. Their monks were some of the fiercest fire-aspect fighters humanity had, and it was said Huo Jianxin, Patriarch of the Huo Clan and Temple Grandmaster, was Mother’s equal.

“There is little more I can teach you about the spear,” Mother had admitted. “And if you wish to advance in fire, Skypiercer is the best. It would do you well to train under him.”

It took a day and night for Jin to decide. He asked her opinion, and she said curtly, “Go. I don’t care.” She was happy to see she’d hurt him.

Jin said he would go, but he wouldn’t take the Emperor’s carriage.

***

His carriage was waiting, but he stood here, outside her locked door.

“Rue?” he said. “Can you open up? … Please?”

She sat with her back to the door.

“I’ll be gone,” came his muffled voice. “At least three years. That’s how long they say the training’ll take—they want to make me a Master of the Temple. I just…”

A sigh. Quieter, now—“I don’t want us to leave like this. I failed you. I know. I’m not a Hero, you know that better than anyone by now. I’m a fuck-up. I keep trying, but it seems like everything I touch just… turns to ash. And I end up hurting everyone I care about.”

His voice was getting choked up.

“If you’ll never speak to me again, I get it. But can we at least say a proper goodbye? Maybe you don’t see me as your brother anymore. I know I’ve done a horrible job showing it, but I still think of you as my sister. I still care about you, despite… yeah, well. I—”

She thrust open the door and tackled him in a hug.

A few breaths of shocked silence.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I should’ve—”

“Shut up,” she said, her voice muffled in his robes. “Shut the fuck up.”

“…Okay.”

***

The day after Jin left, she went to Mother. Mother was in her study, sorting through a thick stack of letters—she seemed to get a new stack every day.

“I want to be strong too,” she said. “Will you train me?”

Mother’s pen clattered from her hand.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Her face lit up. “Get dressed. Courtyard. Fifteen minutes.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Don’t you need to finish…?” She gestured at the stack.

“This is more important.” Mother seemed so giddy she was a little concerned. “My little girl wants to learn to fight!”