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She's twenty-three when her husband dies.

That's her first thought when she hears the news: her husband is dead.

It takes her a moment to nod and to take the hands that are reaching out to comfort her, to listen to her mother's gentle words. A great warrior's spirit will soar above us all, making his family proud. Making us all proud.

She nods and she bites her lip against a sob, and she doesn't say: but my husband left for patrol. Why didn't he come back?

When her heart is calmer, later that day, and her thoughts less clouded, she can see the path that she got to share with him and that is now her own to walk. Just as their courtship and their wedding and their happiness were fated, so are the days that lie ahead of her.

She walks to the edge of the village, pulling her shawl tighter around her, and she looks up at the stars and lets the wind caress her face until she's ready to honor his death together with everyone else.

-+------

She's sitting in the chieftain's dwelling when the men come in to announce Zhang Qiling's arrival. His visits are always a surprise--a blessing--and so few and far between that she barely remembers the last time she saw him. She was still a young girl, then.

Her mother gets up to welcome him, and he acknowledges her warm words with a nod before taking off his backpack and handing it over to the men who accompanied him inside. He usually brings supplies with him, even though he doesn't have to. Flour and dried meats to supplement their own provisions during especially harsh winters. Flare guns and sewing needles and a few bottles of strong liquor. She wonders how he decides what to bring on his journey over the mountains, and if there's any limit to how much weight he can carry. He doesn't seem tired as he steps closer to sit down with the chieftain and accept a cup of tea.

He looks solemn, and regal, and very beautiful.

She feels silly at the thought, and she looks down at her own cup of tea to gather herself. It's a privilege to sit with Zhang Qiling on his rare visits. Maybe she could ask him about his duties, if he's willing to share his thoughts around the fire later.

"Norbu!" The little girl flinging herself into the dwelling is clearly upset, tear tracks smudging down her cheeks as she runs towards her. "Norbu!"

She holds out her arms and wraps them around the girl, giving their honored guest an apologetic look. "What is it, my little fox?" she asks the girl, because that usually cheers her up.

"My doll," Tashi says miserably. "I lost my doll, I can't find her anymore. The boys don't want to help me search!"

"I'll talk to them about the importance of helping others," Norbu promises, and the girl gathers herself enough to wipe at her eyes. "Come on, we'll have a look together." She gets up and gives the group another apologetic look. "Important matters can't wait."

Zhang Qiling inclines his head at her in a solemn nod, which startles her into a smile. She wants to tell him that she'll be back, wants to tell him something, but her little fox is intent on dragging her outside, where it's already dusky and light is fading fast.

It feels like an hour has passed when they finally have to give up trudging through the last powder of snow in the torch-lit dark. It'll all be gone soon. The ragdoll is nowhere to be found. Luckily, Tashi has tired herself out enough to start the short trek home without much protest.

Norbu hands her over to her parents and promises her they'll continue looking in the morning, although she probably shouldn't. That doll has ended up in an animal's stomach, or was carried away by the winds.

When she returns to her mother, Zhang Qiling is just leaving, probably heading towards the small tent they make up for his brief stays with them, so he can get a good night's sleep before continuing on his journeys. He gives her a questioning look and she shakes her head at him, feeling sheepish. He nods in acknowledgment and leaves, and she sits down next to her mother and gratefully accepts a cup of tea from one of the men.

"She'll remember the searching more than the loss," her mother tells her, and Norbu puts her head on her shoulder and lets the soft conversation around the table wash over her.

When she gets up in the morning and goes outside to start the day, the doll sits next to the tent flaps in the snow, some new dirt smudges on her dress and her painted-on grin as bright as ever.

She smiles as she bends down to gently put it in her coat, and then she goes to make sure her husband's candle is still flickering in the rising sun.

--+-----

She's barely thirty when her mother tells her, "You'll be the chieftain soon."

She looks at her in shock, and her mother laughs, loud and joyful. "I didn't mean tomorrow," she says, her eyes dancing.

"But you're not sick," Norbu says, putting her arms around her mother's shoulders. "You would have told me."

"I'm telling you now," her mother says softly, then kisses her hair. "I will join your father before the last snow has melted away. I know you'll make us both proud."

"I'm not ready," she mumbles, tightening her arms around her mother.

"You are. That's why I can go."

They sit there for a long time, Norbu's heart growing calmer with each of her mother's breaths, and she thinks: how fortunate to say goodbye like this. How fortunate to be on a path this drenched in love.

When her mother closes her eyes one night, months later, and doesn't open them again the next morning, her first thought is: the village has lost its wisest teacher. What a loss to be shared among so many, it becomes a small thing to bear for each of her children.

She steps out into the crisp morning air and breathes in the scent of spring.

She's ready.

---+----

Zhang Qiling doesn't seem surprised when she greets him at his next visit. Just nods and accepts the cup of tea and listens to her report.

How many boys have recently come of age to join the older men on patrol and hunting trips.

Who has given their life on a mission, proud to serve the Zhang family in this vital task.

What kind of trouble they had to deal with since his last visit.

Her mother's passing, so much earlier than everyone had thought.

Norbu talks and the gathered men and women chime in every now and then, and Zhang Qiling nods and lets them refill his cup, children bursting in to catch a glimpse of the Zhang patriarch and running off again to report back to their friends.

"Thank you," he says eventually, and they all lift their cups and drink. He looks at her for a long moment, long enough that she wants to say something, feeling flustered all of a sudden. "I'm sorry," he tells her finally, "about your mother."

"Oh," she says. "Thank you."

They raise their cups again, and then he gets up and motions for them to stay, a sign that he's going to spend the night in their village at least. He'd let them bid goodbye, otherwise.

Norbu finds him by the candles, seemingly lost in thought. She watches him for a moment, his lips moving silently before he bows to the flickering lights and the pieces of cloth swaying above them, and then he turns his head to look back at her. She smiles, and his gaze softens just a little as he beckons her closer with a nod.

"My mother wound her favorite scarf around the beam, the week she died," Norbu says, watching the candles with him. "At night, when everyone was asleep. She was already weakened, and she didn't want people to know how long it took her to walk here." She pauses, smiling at the memory of her mother leaning on her so heavily. The love she felt.

"I'm sorry," Zhang Qiling says, his eyes fixed on the candles. "I don't remember her."

Oh.

That terrible affliction.

Her mother had told her about it, sadness in her eyes as she recounted what she knew about the Zhang family's curse.

"I can tell you more about her, if you like. She didn't keep a journal, but there are some keepsakes that were meaningful to her." She pauses. "But it's enough that you came. If you know to find us, that's enough." She turns towards the quiet bustle of the village at dusk, a few families gathered around small fires for their evening meals. "We will remember you," she says, and then they're both quiet for a while, watching the people around them.

She follows his gaze to a group of young boys training together, the oldest among them going around to correct the position of their hands on the spears. Then he notices the boy training by himself a little way off, and he watches him for a while, his face unmoving. Norbu glances up at him, but he isn't giving any indication that he'd like her to explain, so she keeps quiet.

After a moment, he walks towards the boy, who pauses to look at him. His eyes widen as he realizes what's happening, and then Zhang Qiling assumes a fighting stance beside him and gives a small nod as the boy tries his best to mirror him. He demonstrates the sequence of movements, in normal speed at first and then again slowed down, not looking at the boy directly, but subtly correcting his posture by glancing at his shoulder or hands or feet in turn. After a while, the boy's motions are more fluid and natural-looking, and Zhang Qiling nods in approval.

"Yindan!" his mother calls out from where she had been watching, and the boy bows to Zhang Qiling, deeper than he'd ever bowed to his teachers, and then he runs off, spear in hand and his face glowing.

Norbu walks up to Zhang Qiling, motioning at the other boys to resume their training, and they look away as if caught.

"He'll never forget this," she tells him, feeling moved. "For the rest of his life."

He doesn't reply, and they just stand there in comfortable silence, Norbu's heart calm in her chest, and the wind reassuringly cold on her face. She'll make sure their honored guest eats something before he retreats to his tent, and there'll be a round of drinks with everyone to celebrate his visit.

But that can all wait a little bit longer.

----+---

The warmer months are for replenishing their reserves, for hunting, for traveling to the nearest inhabited areas and stocking up on the goods they can't produce themselves. For sewing dresses from fine woven fabrics before the long winter will wrap everyone in thicker layers and furs again.

She sits in a circle with some of the women, the sound of their laughter and their chatting ringing in the bright, warm air, and she's stitching this joy into the garment in her hands.

"Norbu here still hasn't remarried," the woman next to her is saying, laughter in her voice and a sparkle in her eyes. "We'll have to find you someone, don't we."

Norbu laughs. "If I wanted to marry again, I could do it without help. Easily!"

The women let out a whooping sound. "Listen to this one," one of them calls out.

She sees one of the older girls walk over to join them and smiles at her, the girl smiling back as she sits down to watch her work.

"You'll have to start making your own clothes soon," Norbu tells her, her needle gliding through the fabric, pulling the thread along. "It's time."

The girl makes a face. "Ma is teaching me, but she's so much better at it."

"That's why she's teaching you," Norbu laughs, jostling her shoulder. "She wasn't perfect when she was your age either. Every new skill takes time to master."

"Yeah, I know," the girl mutters, her eyes still trained on Norbu's hands.

"Norbu doesn't need to remarry," one of the older women says, her hands deftly mending a coat to keep her son warm for another winter. "All the children are already her children. She's got her hands full."

"But not all the men are her husbands!" the woman with the sparkling eyes says, and Norbu joins in the laughter.

"Maybe you're all my wives!"

The laughter gets louder as everyone raises their cups to toast her, and she drinks with them and lifts her face to the sun to feel warm everywhere.

How could anyone need more than this?

-----+--

It's late at night when she welcomes Zhang Qiling this time, only the full moon and a few torches keeping the village from being shrouded in total darkness.

"We're happy you came," Norbu tells him, and he nods and follows her inside to take off his bags, just as he always does. She had been asleep when the men alerted her, and she feels like she's still caught between dreams. The ritual of his arrival fits itself into the haze inside her mind until it almost feels unreal, watching him shake the snow off his coat in the middle of her home. "Will you stay?"

He looks at her, and for a long moment they just stand there, unmoving, his backpack on the floor next to the table, where it's waiting to be unpacked by helping hands later. Then he nods.

"Are you tired?" It's a silly question to ask of the Zhang patriarch, and she feels a bit guilty for half-implying that he could maybe take his leave now, and let her go back to sleep. "It's just--"

"Yes," he says. "We can talk tomorrow."

He still looks like he's in his twenties, his face unmarked by time and his body still that of a young warrior. She hasn't been twenty for a long time, and she can't remember a single time that she asked him if he was tired.

One of the women enters and gives Norbu a brief nod, glancing at Zhang Qiling with a smile before she ducks out again. His bed has been readied, and there's some food in his tent, and a pot of tea.

Just as always.

There has never been a reason to ask.

"We never talk," she says, "about your journey here."

His eyebrows twitch, like he wants to frown, but is still processing what she said. "There's no reason to," he says eventually, then pauses for a moment. "Usually I don't arrive this late."

His voice is the same as it has always been, brusque in a way that's not abrasive; all of his words carefully considered before he opens his mouth. He's not taking offense at her question, but he doesn't seem inclined to share any more information with her either. He just, she thinks, wants to be done talking.

Maybe there's a kind of tiredness that just never leaves you.

"There's no need to start the day at sunrise tomorrow," she says with a smile, remembering the voice of her mother. "Stay as long as you can. The men will be happy to talk about their drills when you're ready. Just--" She pauses. He looks so young. Like a village boy come home from a hunting trip. Like someone's child. "Just get some rest."

After a moment, he nods at her, and then he turns, only to pause before he has reached the heavy cloth of the entrance. Hesitating.

"Tomorrow," Norbu says softly, and he exhales, and then he slips outside.

She doesn't think she could ask about his journeys. But he can stay here for a little while longer before he has to start his next one. They can sit around the fire with the people who have sworn an oath to the Zhang patriarch, the people she all considers her family, and he can be a little less cold and a little less tired when he leaves again.

She goes back to bed, and she thinks about her husband, and all the children she got to see grow up over the years. How many more there will be. How blessed she is.

How lonely a life can be.

------+-

She's a grandmother when she sees Zhang Qiling for the last time.

It feels like she was an auntie just yesterday, or the chieftain if the village needed guidance and comfort, or just Norbu. Women her age, they're all grannies now.

So, she's a granny.

She's sitting outside with their honored guest, several of the warriors and their wives in a circle with them, talking about the hardships over the last several years, and the joys. The problems they encountered with the recent influx of foreign expeditions, and the new traps they built to guard the flowers. Nothing as sophisticated as the Zhang family's mechanisms, but good enough to ward off most tomb robbers. Births and weddings and high holidays.

Zhang Qiling listens to it all, nodding, suggesting improvements to their patrol routes, congratulating the new parents in their midst. He never talks much during these conversations, but he always listens intently, graciously accepting the food and drink that's offered to him.

Eventually, Norbu has to tell the group to leave the Zhang patriarch alone for a minute, and everyone laughs and gets up to check on their children or their parents, threads of their conversation continuing as they slowly disperse.

Eventually, it's quiet again.

The sun is setting, and the fires provide some welcome warmth in the beginning chill. The older children, having finished their evening duties, come out to play before they're called to bed, chasing each other around the tents. A couple of young drummers provide a rhythm for some improvised dancing a little further off, the beats soft enough to weave into the sounds of dusk.

Zhang Qiling is quiet.

He's always quiet, of course, but--

"Zhang Qiling!" a little girl calls out, running towards them. She's smiling wide, and her cheeks are flushed from the crisp evening air. "Zhang Qiling!" Behind her, a handful of children are watching her, eyes wide. "Will you dance with us?"

Norbu has to bite her lip.

Their honored guest blinks at the girl.

"You little devil," a woman exclaims, despair in her voice. "What did we tell you about running off?" She scoops up the girl and gives Zhang Qiling an apologetic look as the girl kicks her legs. "I don't know why she is like this."

Norbu laughs. "She got that from you, my little fox."

"Granny, help!"

"Listen to your parents, girl. They just want you to be safe, because they love you."

The girl finally stops kicking and Tashi puts her back down. "I'm safe! Zhang Qiling is here!"

Zhang Qiling probably wishes he wasn't, right now, but Norbu can't glance at him to check or she'll burst into laughter. "Only until tomorrow. And your mother won't always be there to run after you either. Stay put where she tells you to."

The little girl makes a noncommittal noise, but takes her mother's hand when she holds it out for her. Then she looks at Zhang Qiling again.

He blinks at her.

"Zhang Qiling is very tired from his travels," Norbu tells the girl. "He'll dance with you next time."

Beside her, Zhang Qiling twitches. "Yes, next time," he says slowly, nodding at the girl. "Okay?"

Norbu very valiantly does not laugh.

"Okay," the girl says, with all the scepticism of a child who's heard that promise before, but then she lets herself by tugged away by her mother.

Thank you, Tashi mouths at her, and then it's quiet again.

Zhang Qiling exhales.

Norbu laughs, finally. "She'll teach you the steps, don't worry."

Zhang Qiling buries his face in his hands.

"It'll be fine," she assures him, reaching out to pat his knee. "A child could do it."

She doesn't think she's ever touched him before. Was there ever a welcome that involved the touching of hands? A farewell? Did she ever put her hand on his back as they stood before the candles to honor the ones they'd lost?

She can't remember.

She moves to pull her hand away, but then he covers it with his, looking down at his knees as he slowly, gently curls his fingers around hers. Then he looks back up again, at the village at dusk, and he doesn't say anything, and he doesn't let go.

He still looks like someone's child.

When was the last time someone told him to stay put where it's safe?

How long before she was born?

She turns toward him to clasp his hand in both of hers, the skin rough and wrinkled where his is smooth and dry, and they sit like that as it gets darker, and the fire crackles and moves with the gentle wind.

In the morning, he'll leave again.

-17 years later-

"This was so much easier when I was unconscious and had a broken leg," Pangzi grumbles, kicking a pebble down the ravine they're currently trying not to fall into. "Or maybe all the snow helped. Motivates you to get down the mountain faster, doesn't it? Nice snow storm. This is more like a hike, but--"

Xiaoge turns to give Pangzi a look. The look says: This is the easiest route. If you keep complaining, I'll show you the fastest one.

It's a very expressive look.

Pangzi manages to shut up for a whole minute, then curses when he stumbles and Wu Xie has to grab him by the arm before he tumbles down. "Hey, Xiaoge," he calls out, and Wu Xie sighs inwardly. "If I break my leg again, will you carry me the rest of the way?"

Xiaoge gives him another expressive, but much shorter look.

"Fine, fine," Pangzi mutters. "So on edge today."

Wu Xie lightly slaps his arm, careful not to risk another stumble. "He's nervous," he says. "He hasn't been here in a while."

Pangzi waves his hand. "It'll be fine! They're Xiaoge's people, right? They'll be happy to see him! There'll be a big feast, we'll drink a lot, it'll be great."

Wu Xie looks at Xiaoge who's keeping his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "It'll be fine," Wu Xie tells him, echoing Pangzi.

Xiaoge nods, but doesn't look at him.

Pangzi is quieter the rest of the way, only perking up when they can see the fires of the village in the distance. "Almost there!" he exclaims. "Look, we did it!"

A little smile tugs at Xiaoge's lips, just long enough for Wu Xie to see, and he briefly puts his hand in the small of Xiaoge's back as they walk. Almost there now.

A small delegation of Yinshaluo welcomes them at the outskirts of the village, clearly far more excited to see Xiaoge than Pangzi or himself, which is understandable. He'd be more excited about seeing Xiaoge, as well.

"Welcome back," a man says, smiling at him, and Wu Xie recognizes him as a member of the suicide squad that wasn't.

"It's good to see you all again," Wu Xie says, and then finally they're face to face with Granny, who's waiting in front of the chieftain's dwelling, surrounded by a few more people Wu Xie recognizes. The little boy he remembers is a teenager now.

Granny looks more frail, thinner than when they left, but that aura of quiet leadership and strength is still the same, and the smile lines around her eyes have only deepened.

"Granny!" Pangzi exclaims, "Zazi Nimo!" He flings his arms around her, careful enough with her more delicate bones, and she laughs and pats his back.

"You haven't changed," she says, then pulls away to take a good look at him. "Gotten older."

"Unlike you," Pangzi says with a wink, laughing when she acts appropriately flattered. Then he steps away to point at a man behind her. "You! How's the missus and the baby?" The man laughs and the crowd parts to let Pangzi have a better look at the boy. "Well, I'll be damned," Pangzi says, then crouches down to say hello to the child.

Amid the chatter of greetings, Wu Xie steps closer to Granny, taking her hands into his. "It's good to see you," he says quietly, studying her face. It feels like a hundred years have passed since they met. So much has happened. She's still smiling that same impish smile at him.

"I hope you brought some wine, Wu Xie."

"Of course," he says. "We'll pour one out for Yindan. With the rest, we celebrate."

She nods at him, squeezing his hands. "Zazi Nimo."

Then she looks behind him.

Xiaoge swallows. The setting sun casts a warm glow on his face as he says, "I'm sorry. I couldn't come earlier." He doesn't move from his spot.

Granny's eyes shimmer, and for a moment, the overwhelmed smile makes her look young again. Beautiful.

"You came," she says finally. "That's enough."

When Xiaoge steps closer to carefully put his arms around her, her age shows in the soft, wrinkled skin of her hands as they grasp the back of Xiaoge's coat. How young could she have been when she met him for the first time? How many more like her and Wang Jinyuan are there in the world?

Xiaoge puts his chin on her shoulder and closes his eyes for a moment. Then he slowly pulls away and lets her look at him.

"Are you tired?" she says, not bothering to wipe at the wetness on her cheeks. "Would you like to rest first?" He shakes his head, and she smiles, glancing at Wu Xie. "I'm glad," she tells Xiaoge softly, holding on to his arms.

Like a son come home from the war.

"Tonight, we feast," she declares in a louder voice, and the cheers echo around the village.

"He owes me a dance!" Wu Xie hears from somewhere in the crowd, and there's more laughter and more commotion and Xiaoge's wide eyes as Granny pats his arm.

This is probably going to be a longer story.

"Come on," Granny says, turning Xiaoge towards her home. "Let's have some tea first."

Wu Xie can't help his laugh at the look of sheer relief on Xiaoge's face, and after a nod from Granny he follows them inside, a few of the children sticking close to sit down beside her.

There'll be enough time to hear all the stories.

To remember the good and the bad.

Enough time to sit under the stars and be at peace, finally.