Chapter Text
Nine years ago.
Dragon Province is a natural fortress. Protected on both sides by the Daba Range and the Kukhonin Mountains, it was the most protected capital in Nikan. So, despite the numerous attempts by different dynasties to move the capital, the crown inevitably returns to its roots in Arlong. Meanwhile, the city itself was cosmopolitan. From the nations of the Nariin Sea to the countries in the West, the wonders of the world found their way to the markets of Arlong. However, despite the mixture of accents and the scent of foreign spices in the air, the heart of the city remained very much Nikara. And at that center is where one would find the royal palace, which housed the most important people in power. Inside lay the inner palace where the most exquisite and rare flowers bloomed and thrived, safe from the eyes and grasping hands of men. At the same time, there lived the unrealized jewel of the crown, the hope of their people, the future hero of Nikan. But tonight, not a single wisp of his heavy, crippling destiny sat on his shoulders.
“Gege, won’t you stay after dinner? Mother said she’ll tell us a story,” Nezha pleaded.
It had been a busy few days in the palace due to the second prince’s birthday. But tonight, the festivities have died down on the third day of the celebration. Without the performers and courtiers, today was reserved for the royal family.
“I only dined with you for your birthday. I have a lot of responsibilities as the Crown Prince.”
“I understand.” Nezha deflated at that. Ever since his older brother turned sixteen, it was rare for them to see each other, not that Jinzha was particularly fond of him. He just wanted his family to spend time together as a whole.
“Besides, I’m too old for stories. Just as you will be when you leave the inner palace.”
Nezha turned twelve today, so he had four years left before he had to move into the outer palace and have his own household. At least, there would be no pressure for him to get married, unlike the Crown Prince.
“Jinzha!” Mingzha came running to where they were. His little chubby hands latched on to Jinzha’s robes. “It’s story time! Come on. Mama’s waiting!”
“Please.” Nezha joined in, but he didn’t cling to his older brother, aware that Jinzha would be less lenient if he sullied his royal clothes. But Mingzha was the exception. Everyone loved Mingzha. He didn’t resent his adorable younger brother for that one bit.
“Alright,” Jinzha sighed theatrically.
All three princes of Nikan walked back to the central pavilion of the inner palace where their mother, the Empress Saikhara, resided. A fond smile lit her face as she saw her treasures approaching.
“So you have decided to stay. We rarely ever see you here anymore.”
“I’ve been busy with my studies, Mother.”
“Excellent as always. But now is the time for family. Take a seat. I’m going to tell you the tale of the Fenghuang.”
They all settled in to hear the story, Mingzha leaning against Nezha. Jinzha sprawled on a cushion next to them, his head resting on his arm propped on a pillow. His mother didn't even scold him for it.
"A long time ago, back when Nikan had a hundred kingdoms, deep in the dense forests of Hare Province, a prince wandered the woods in search of firewood."
"But why would he do that?" asked Nezha.
"Because, even though he was the eldest, he was cast out by his father in favor of his jealous younger brothers. And so, he lived on the edge of the kingdom, in a cozy little hut that his mother found for him. But she could only do so much for him. He had to fend for himself to live. However, on that spring day, he walked into a grove of Empress trees. The purple flowers looked like beautiful clouds. He wanted to cut down a branch to take home with him, but he knew that such marvelous beauty was beyond this world. Left with no chance to keep the flowers for himself, he sat down under a tree, choosing to take home only the memory of the magical place. After a few hours, he woke up from a nap. He didn't realize that it was dusk already. The sun was setting quickly and he didn't bring anything to make fire with. Before he could even fall into despair at his situation, or try to run through the forest despite the danger, a bird landed on one of the branches. A small robin peered down at him, turning its head this way and that way for a better look."
Saikhara peered down at Mingzha to mimic the bird, causing his younger brother to erupt in giggles.
"Soon, other colorful birds appeared. Bee-eaters, kingfishers, sunbirds, a few ducks. There was even a peafowl. But none compared to the majestic creature that towered over them all atop the highest tree. A phoenix, as described in the myths."
"I thought they always come in pairs," Nezha wondered.
Saikhara nodded. "They do, especially where they live. But when they visit the mortal world, people are already blessed enough to see one. Seeing two is extremely auspicious and very rare. They are very reluctant to leave their nest, unless someone is worthy of witnessing their majesty."
"So why was it there? Was he a really lucky prince?" asked Mingzha.
"He was not just lucky. But let me continue the story first," Saikhara said patiently. Under normal circumstances, Nezha's mother wouldn't tolerate being interrupted. Even Jinzha knew that. His older brother was quietly listening to the story while snacking on goji berries. She must have been in a good mood tonight.
"With no light to guide him home, he asked the phoenix to help him. His voice shook with fear as he did so. Was it too presumptuous of him to ask for the aid of a heavenly being? Thankfully, the phoenix didn't burn him into ashes. Instead, it came down from its perch and transformed into a beautiful woman. When she spoke, it sounded like the most harmonious song to ever grace his ears. 'Follow me and I will guide you to where you need to be,' she said. So, he followed her, as she turned into a phoenix again and flew toward the horizon, her path leaving a blaze in the sky, pointing him in the right direction. He walked for three days and three nights, his strength never wavering, and with the other birds keeping him from being led astray on the road. When the arrow of fire in the sky above tapered off, he found himself in his father's palace. The place was in mourning. Courtiers howled in their misery. The peasants bowed in prayer in the courtyard. When they saw him, they ushered him inside. His father was on his deathbed, surrounded by physicians and his family. What happened? he asked. His mother told him that his father, the king, was dying, and that there was a looming war against the biggest kingdom on the continent. They had already sent the scroll to declare it. None of his brothers wanted to take the throne at such a time of peril."
"Oh no," Mingzha murmured. Nezha put an arm around him.
"But the eldest prince was brave and dutiful. Upon his father's passing, he took on the burden of the crown and led his country through the war, straight into victory. Some say that the enemy troops burst into flames for no reason. Others say that the capital city of the enemy kingdom burned for seven days straight, and no water could quench the inferno. With their victory, the new king maintained peace within his borders. In fact, all the other kingdoms were so afraid of him, that there was no war in Nikan for as long as he was alive. His kingdom prospered, and the peasants' lives improved. Their capital became one of the biggest cities in Nikan."
"Which one is it?" Jinzha finally piped up.
"The story doesn't say."
"Of course," he scoffed.
Saikhara only shook her head in fond exasperation. Suddenly, Nezha found his mother's gaze fixed on him. "What's wrong, dear?"
"It's just...I wanted a story with dragons," he frowned. He wasn't interested in phoenixes. Mostly because he didn't know anything about them. Where did they come from? Why did they help people? Did their fire go out when it rained? How come they're always good? He knew some dragons were good, and others were bad. But phoenixes were always helpful and righteous. He found it suspicious.
"Well, I know a story that involves a phoenix, a dragon, and a pearl."
Jinzha stood up. "I won't have time for that. Good night,
Mother. Good night, Nezha." He crouched down to pick Mingzha up and lift him into the air. "And good night, you." Mingzha squealed in delight. Then, at the door, he said to his younger brothers, "Don't stay up too late." Ironic because Jinzha would stay up late to drink with his friends at the outer palace. Nezha heard them talking about it this afternoon. Maybe once he turned sixteen, he would grow to like wine. Right now, he couldn’t imagine it. The bottle of sorghum wine they stole from Venka’s family cellar was foul.
"Good night," greeted Saikhara and Nezha. They watched Jinzha leave until the shutting door cut him off from their sight.
"I still want to hear the story," Nezha requested.
"Me too!" Mingzha said, enthusiastically.
"Alright. Only because it's your birthday. This is the tale of the dragon and the phoenix."
"Wait. My tutor said the Dragon is the Emperor and the Phoenix is the Empress. Is this a love story?" Nezha pretended to gag over the implication. Mingzha swiftly followed.
Saikhara sighed at their antics. "This one isn't a love story. In fact, it's about their rivalry. Now, listen." She said the last part sharply, causing the two boys to sit up at attention. His mother was known to lash out violently when displeased. At least, when it concerned any soul except Mingzha.
"We apologize," they echoed each other. "Please tell us the story."
"Very well. Before people walked the Earth, the gods of the Pantheon roamed the land. Wondrous magic could be found everywhere. Dragons soared in the air and swam through waters. Herds of qilin raced in valleys and mountains. And on a small forgotten islet in the Omonod Bay rested a magnificent but mysterious pearl that gave its owner tremendous power. Two beasts of folklore fought over the pearl. The Dragon wanted to possess it because of its nature to desire the most beautiful things. The Phoenix believed the pearl to be one of its eggs that the Heavenly Emperor transformed out of some perceived slight. Be it day or night, the two beasts fought. With their control over the elements, they waged war against each other on the islet, so that the small piece of land grew into an island."
"Did the island become Speer, or maybe Mugen?" asked Mingzha. Nezha rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. What did those people have to do with this story?
"Perhaps. But there were no people back then to call that island Speer, Mugen or anything else. It could be Nikan itself. Anyway, while the Dragon and the Phoenix were busy fighting, a goddess took notice of their prolonged skirmish, as did the other gods. Most of them ignored the two, since they were too evenly matched and ironically balanced each other out. Even the Heavenly Emperor was pleased that they were creating new land territories on Earth. But that goddess was sick of their war. So, while the two creatures were sleeping, she stole the pearl, broke it into millions of pieces and scattered it in the sky. The pieces turned into the millions of stars we still see at night. The goddess thought that, this way, no one would own the pearl, and everyone could bask in its beauty. Now, what does that story teach us?"
Nezha sighed in boredom. "Don't fight wars over petty things? Stealing is fine if it stops a war?"
"Make friends, not enemies?" Mingzha guessed.
"That's correct, Mingzha."
"What?! How?" Nezha demanded. It couldn't be that simple, could it?
Saikhara tutted. "Not every war story is about tactics and strategy. In this one, if the Dragon and the Phoenix learned to cooperate and share, the goddess couldn't have stolen the pearl right under their noses."
"And if the Phoenix only listened to what the Dragon had to say, that maybe the pearl was never an egg in the first place, then they could have shared the treasure between them and built an empire on the new island," Vaisra added from his seat next to the door. Nezha had been so absorbed in the story that he didn't notice that his father had joined them.
"Perhaps. But on the chance that the pearl was indeed an egg, the Dragon could have been less greedy and let the Phoenix be happy and reunited with its offspring," Saikhara retorted.
Nezha had a feeling that this conversation was spiraling beyond his understanding.
"Go to bed. Both of you. The celebrations are over and you need to return to your studies and responsibilities."
"Yes, Father," the boys said in tandem before they walked out the door, leaving their parents behind, a tense silence between them. Neither had spared a glance for them as they left the room.
Half a year later.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen... Nezha counted the steps he needed to take to reach the throne room where his father waited. The Great Hall was situated on top of a raised building in the outer palace. Under the mid-morning sun's glare, he walked all the way from his home at the inner palace. A palanquin wasn't offered to him. The only refuge he had from the sun was the miǎnguān on his head.
Sixteen, seventeen... It was all he could do to avoid breaking down into sobs and further infuriate the Emperor.
He knew what awaited him: a sentencing for his crimes. Admittedly, he knew what he did was stupid, but wasn't entirely at fault.
Twenty-one, twenty-two... Would this be the last time he would ever see these halls? Perhaps he should have spent more time swimming on the coast, eating tanghulu in the bustling market outside the palace, watching the sunrise and sunset in the Red Cliffs, and spending time with Venka, Kitay and Mingzha.
Am I going to die? He shook his head at the thought, prompting Captain Eriden to glance in his direction. No, he wouldn't. His father wouldn't execute him, would he? His mother wouldn't allow it. But Empress Saikhara was also mad at him.
Forty-seven, forty-eight... Almost there.
Whatever punishment he was given, he would accept it. He had no choice. But it was so unfair.
Seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-- His steps faltered for a second. On the raised dais of the throne sat not one, but three members of his family. His father in the middle, his mother to his right, and Jinzha at his left side. Thankfully, Mingzha wasn't here.
...Ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three. Nine and three sound like the words for "long-lasting" and "life." Long live the Emperor. The climb was also difficult enough that by the time the supplicant or the accused reached the top of the stairs, they would bow in fatigue. Nezha bowed out of respect, duty, and hope for leniency.
"His Highness, Prince Nezha," the herald announced.
"You may rise," the Emperor commanded. "How are your studies going?"
What? He straightened to answer. "Tutor Chau says I’m progressing well." If this were a normal conversation during dinner or at the tearoom, Nezha would have blabbed about the interesting things he was learning from his tutor.
"Excellent. You need to study well to prepare for the keju."
"...the keju? Why do I need..."
"Because you're going to study in Sinegard," Jinzha interrupted, almost in a snarl, directing his glare at anyone else but Nezha.
"But that's unfair! Jinzha and Muzha studied with the Imperial Scholars in the palace," Nezha pleaded with Emperor Vaisra. He almost wished he didn't when he noticed the royal chronicler hurriedly scribbling in his book. At least, this one was new, and not the old man who crumpled his face in disapproval whenever he or his brothers talked back to their parents. This man was merely astounded by his outburst.
"What's unfair is you killing that boy--" Saikhara started.
"It's not my fault that he was weak!" he defended.
"--and almost causing a dispute between two countries."
"He's not even a prince. Besides, he's the one who--"
"Enough," Vaisra said.
Anger. Contempt. Irritation. Any of those emotions were better than the exhausted disappointment palpable in his father's one single word. "You will take the keju and move to Sinegard in three years time. You will return to Arlong after your graduation."
"But Father--"
Vaisra's eyes flashed with restrained anger. "Be grateful that I'm not sending you to your uncle tomorrow. You have three years yet to live in the inner palace." With that, he nodded to his lackeys, who would validate and enact Nezha's sentence.
"I am grateful, Your Majesty," he stuttered out, bowing.
"You may go."
Nezha kept his eyes on the ground as he backed out of the Great Hall, unwilling to see his mother's and brother's expressions. The doors closed in front of him.
Captain Eriden's hand clasped his shoulder. "Don't look so pale, Your Highness. Sinegard isn't that bad. It's less...classy than Arlong, but more exciting. Perfect for an adventurous boy like you." Nezha let himself be led away from the palace. "Besides, your Uncle Riga is fond of you."
"He's the one who told me to accept the duel in the first place," Nezha grumbled. Riga was in Arlong for Qīngmíngjié on that cursed day. Why Riga liked him still remained a mystery to him. The men in their family crowed over Jinzha and his achievements. The women doted on Mingzha. Muzha and Nezha were often left on the sidelines, but Riga took a liking to Nezha.
You remind me of myself, his uncle once told him. From what he heard about Riga from his father, Nezha didn't think that was a good thing.
Captain Eriden had nothing to say to that.
At the entrance to the women's quarters, they parted.
"The Emperor requests your presence at the war office after dinner."
His steps halted. A sharp inhale followed.
"I understand," he answered solemnly. "I won't be late."
Nezha walked into the inner palace, fully aware that the next time he entered, he would not be the same person as he was at that moment.
Later that night.
Even without the lanterns the servants carried, Nezha would still find his way to where they were going by following the sound of footsteps over gravel.
Beside him walked the Emperor. Conduct dictates that he should walk behind Vaisra, but tonight, they were father and son. A few more moments and they found themselves on a riverbank. However, instead of admiring and sitting beside the river, they trudged parallel to it, marching somewhere Nezha knew to be a forbidden place.
“Sinegard is a mountainous place. If you explore the city, you’ll soon find yourself hiking through markets and neighborhoods. But you've always liked water, don't you?” Vaisra gestured to the river. “Take the time to appreciate what you’ll be leaving here in Arlong. Make sure you come back here a decent man.”
Nezha sniveled. “Father, I don’t want to—“
The next thing he knew was the taste of earth. He groaned and curled up on himself on the ground, clutching his stomach.
“Get up,” Vaisra commanded while flexing his hand. Grateful that his father wasn’t wearing any rings that night, he slowly stood up.
“I’m sending you to the academy to learn from generals and strategists. It would do you well to be humbled by the sons of other powerful families in Nikan.” He frowned. “Your mother has spoiled you in the inner palace.”
“I understand,” Nezha said shakily.
“Be grateful for this generosity from me.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Good. Walk with me.”
Each step brought pain to his gut. He would have a bruise in the morning. But he followed his father anyway. Resisting would only get him another beating before the night was over. His father was rarely violent with him. This was just a show of discipline. If his father hated him, his mother would have built a temple to enshrine his remains by now.
As they followed the meandering path, the river became shallower, the water clearer. Fish swimming and crabs crawling between the rocks were now visible from where he stood. Growing up, he heard stories about this part of the Murui. How treasures abound in the riverbed, untouched and unmarred by those who seek them. He wondered if he would get to see the secrets of the Nine Curves River tonight. Taking home a sword with a jewel-encrusted hilt would be nice. Mingzha would be delighted to see it.
"Have you ever wanted to rule, Nezha?" Vaisra asked.
Is this a test? Warily, he ventured, "Why would I? It's not my place."
"And why is that?"
Definitely a test. "The first son rules, the second fights, and the third prays."
Vaisra nodded in satisfaction. "You remember what I told you."
A few years ago, when Nezha was wandering the halls of the palace, he stumbled upon his father. He wasn't supposed to be roaming around like a ghost so late at night, but his father was surprisingly indulgent that night. A pungent, sour smell trailed the Emperor. Nezha had only ever smelled something like it when he passed the servants quarters or once at Jinzha's room. Nevertheless, he followed Vaisra into the palace museum to look at hundreds of portraits of their ancestors. In the labyrinthine halls showcasing the history of their family, Vaisra told him a story so awful that it could only be fantastical. But Nezha knew better.
That night, he learned about how Arlong used to be a cursed place always teetering on the edge of being swallowed by the ocean, of the story of a man named Yu and the name they inherited from him, as well as the tale of how the House of Yin managed to create a god of its own.
"He doesn't have much time left," Vaisra said under his breath. Their procession arrived at the entrance of the caves. A withered but seemingly ageless man waited for them. Nezha had never seen this stranger, but his features marked him as a Yin.
"Mingzha..." said Nezha, his mouth dry.
"...has to suffer this fate." Vaisra grabbed both of his shoulders. "Unless someone else takes up the mantle for him."
“But I—“ he swallowed. “I’m going to a war academy—“
“You’ll be a general and the high priest. If the Speerlies can do it, then why can’t you?”
"I..." He would do anything for his brother. He wanted to make his father look at him with pride, instead of the disappointment he had been seeing ever since his mistake. Fulfilling his duty was his newfound goal now. But would he survive this? "I'm not strong enough."
Vaisra smoothed his long hair away from his face. "I know." His father's eyes gleamed with what looked like sadness in the dim light. "But what other choice do we have?"
Nezha nodded, not trusting his mouth to hold in a scream of terror.
"Go on."
He looked back. "You're not coming?"
Vaisra shook his head. "I'll stay back. My consort of the night will complain about the smell of blood."
Four years later. Sinegard.
The Academy was unforgiving. If passing the keju was climbing the summit of the Heavenly Mount, then staying at the academy was swimming to Ankhiluun all the way from the far side of the Omonod Bay. He didn't even have to wonder if they had homework or a test on the next day. Every single gods-damned day, they were judged and appraised for their mental and physical capacity as soldiers- and generals-in-training, as if they would one day wake up from their cots in their cramped dorms and suddenly become unworthy of setting foot in the prestigious grounds of Sinegard Academy. Of course, the masters always found them wanting.
"You call that combat? I've seen fiercer brawls between alley cats just this last weekend."
"Your last name won't matter when enemy troops storm the city you're tasked with protecting."
"A Bolonian musician would cut off his own ears just to stop the torment of hearing you butcher their language."
"And what, Mr. Yin, in your spoiled and pampered childhood could cause so much turmoil in your mind that you can't sit still to meditate for even a minute?"
The last one was from Master Jiang who, in Nezha's opinion, should not be the one judging him for not being able to remain motionless. Out of all the masters in the academy, he was the one who disliked Nezha the most, which was baffling because he was friends with his Uncle Riga. Master Jiang was there on the day Nezha arrived at Riga's home in Sinegard. Since then, the older man always scrutinized Nezha with a look that made him feel as though he was a wild animal, and Jiang was waiting to see if he would bite.
"There isn't--"
"A rhetorical question," Jiang gave him a withering look. "Shut up. You've earned another hour."
Nezha held back a groan. Nohai was now meditating outside the pavilion where their Lore class was held. With the pouring rain, he wasn't inclined to join his classmate. Before he closed his eyes to achieve the so-called inner stillness that Jiang spouted about, he met Kitay's eye. Just one more day until they could take a break and explore the city of Sinegard by themselves under their masters' noses. He hoped that the yet unfamiliar city would show him something unforgettable tomorrow.
The next day.
"Just how special is this brush anyway? Doesn't it do the same thing as any other brush?"
"It's made from the fur of wolves hunted down at the Baolei Mountain Range. The wolves feed on a variety of prey, so their furs are quite soft. Or, at least, that's what I've heard," Kitay explained.
"Sounds like a gimmick to me."
"The makers are a household name. They've been making the best brushes in Nikan for a century," Kitay raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you know about this? They use those brushes in the palace."
"I never noticed."
Kitay scoffed. "Typical."
Nezha laughed. "I'm too busy thinking of what I'm writing instead of wondering what some brushmaker is doing all the way in Boar Province."
Kitay took a moment to weigh his words. "I think I'm seeing why you've been sent to Sinegard."
Nezha had to remind himself that Kitay was his friend. His clenched fist relaxed. He also knew that underneath that studious air of his, Kitay would give as much as he got. "Fine. Be that way." He left him at the shelves full of brushes.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll wait for you outside where I don't need to listen to you agonizing over an ink stick."
"The ones at the academy reek, and you know it."
Nezha laughed as he walked outside the calligraphy shop. Across the street was a stall selling jianbing. His mouth watered. The meager portions and tasteless meals at the academy made the street snack seem decadent. He took his chance to eat something with flavor after so long. Looking back at the store he just left, he saw a peasant girl enter. His interest piqued, he followed after her and went back inside. Trailing after her through the store, he kept his eyes peeled for any crime she may commit as she looked around idly. He was only doing his civic duty. He wasn’t admiring the confident and self-assured strides she took as if she were a foreign princess inspecting Nikara’s wares and finding some items interesting and others trivial, tutting and cooing from time to time. Despite her arresting face that made you stare and wonder whether she was really attractive or not, she wasn’t the epitome of Nikara beauty. No, he wasn’t lamenting that her winter coat hid her figure, but worried about what weapon she might be hiding underneath.
“Can I help you?” The girl glared at him.
“Do you work here?”
She looked down at her travel clothes, and stared at Nezha as if he were an idiot. “What do you think?”
“I know you don’t, but you can’t possibly be a customer either.”
“And why is that?”
“Because…look at you,” he gestured. “A mud-skinned Southern peasant can’t afford anything here.”
She glared at him.
“I suggest you leave before I get the shop owner to throw you out and call the guards. If you don’t, I’ll ask them to spare your silly little face, even though I can’t imagine anyone would beg to marry you,” he sneered. “But you can’t steal anything here, not when I’m—“
The strength of her fist cut off the rest of his insults.
“You bitch. You fucking bitch,” he said from the floor. She shouldn’t have been able to knock him down so easily, not after the training he got in Sinegard. But she hit with a viciousness he had only witnessed from other academy students. Yet Sinegard didn’t accept women as students, hence, Venka wasn’t there alongside him and Kitay. So how could this small peasant girl thrash him?
Above him, her face was flushed red, her eyes shone brightly and her chest heaved in rage. All her attention was on him. Something in Nezha stirred at the sight, leaving him slightly dazed. “You motherfucking—“
“What’s all this commotion?” The voice made Nezha scramble upright. He needed to get out of there before—
“Mr. Yin. What are you doing here?” Master Jiang stepped in between him and the girl.
“I—“
Jiang looked at his face and sighed. “Go back to the academy. If you tell a soul about this, I’ll do everything in my power to get you expelled.”
“But she—“
“Or do you want me to tell Riga, so he could tell your father how you’re picking fights with civilians outside the academy like some street child?”
“I…Apologies, Master Jiang,” he yielded.
Right before he walked out the door of the shop, he heard Master Jiang ask the girl, “Why did you hit him?”
Kitay waited for him across the street, a snack in his hand.
“I saw you arguing with that girl, so I wrapped up my shopping. I was going to intervene, but then I saw Master Jiang follow after her.”
“So much for loyalty.”
Kitay shrugged. “Not every battle needs to be fought. Sometimes, surrendering in a battle is necessary to win the war.”
Nezha rolled his eyes. “You’re pledging Strategy then?”
“I’ve been planning it since Day One.” He peered at Nezha. “How’s your face?”
“It’s fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
The pain didn’t come from his cheek, but from his bruised pride.
When he went to bed that night, the image of the girl's smirk as she looked down at him was branded into his memory. He vowed to never forget her. One day, he would find her and he would...hit her back? Kiss her until passion overcame her and she glowed as she had that afternoon? He didn't know yet. It wasn't the first nor the last time, but especially tonight, he wished that he had his own room, as did most boys his age.