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Yi was coming home today.
Heng smiled, hardly able to contain her excitement as she practically ran through their family home, making sure everything would be in order for his arrival tonight. His achievements have finally been fully acknowledged, after all the years he had put into the council he was finally being made a Sol.
It's been several months since she’d seen him last; his work kept him terribly busy. While she was more than happy to know his dreams were being realized, their separation did worry her, knowing that her dear brother was the type to lose himself in his work and she was not there to pull him away for even the slightest breaks. She hoped he had someone there to remind him not to overdo things.
She paused in the doorway of his room, fingers resting on the frame, almost too afraid to cross the threshold. Everything was just as he’d left it, even the books sprawled out on his desk, it was all untouched by time. Heng exhaled softly, remembering the days where the two of them were inseparable as children. Yi had always made sure to make time for her no matter how often she pestered him to play or the countless questions she would ask. He always answered every one with patience, even when he thought the answers should have been obvious.
His absence weighed on her everyday, never quite getting used to the loneliness. A selfish part of her wanted to beg him to stay here with her, afraid that the longer he stayed away the sooner he would forget all about her for grander things. The thought alone made her heart tremble, though as much as it plagued her she would never voice these insecurities, for the fear of holding her brother back outweighed her fear of being forgotten.
Heng closes her eyes working up the nerve to take the first step into the room, the floorboards creaking softly beneath her step, a familiar tune of the old house. She could clearly picture Yi turning around to face her, one too many times of her sneaking up on him to disturb his studies had made him all too aware of her presence.
She smiled knowing just how he’d act when he caught her, his eyes would narrow, pretending to be upset, asking if she was there for any reason other than to distract him. Heng could clearly hear his voice in her head knowing just what he’d say in the moment, telling her halfheardly to go on her way and she would laugh doing the opposite happily running to his side, tugging at his sleeve asking him something or another.
Slowly she opens her eyes, stepping further into the room until she reaches his desk. She traced the edge of his desk, fingers tracing the grooves and shallow dents carved by years of use, stopping on a blotch of ink that stained the wood from a time where she had been over zealous about getting his attention and had knocked over the well. Her hand flew to her chest as she shivered, recalling the way he had said her name that day. Not scolding, not angry, but so unabsahedly him that it made her chest ache.
‘Heng…’
It’s been so long since she’s heard her own name from his mouth…
“Heng, what are you doing?”
Heng jumped, nearly knocking her elbow into the desk as she spun around. Her hands flew to her front as she straightened her posture, eyes wide and guilty for reasons she couldn’t quite name.
“I- nothing” she blurted, then winced. That was never a convincing answer.
Her mother stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, the other planted firmly on her hip. Her expression was stern, brows drawn low, mouth set in a thin line that spoke of long days and very little patience left for foolishness.
“Nothing.” her mother repeated flatly, eyes sweeping over the room. “Funny how ‘nothing’ always seems to happen in his room.”
Her voice was filled with contemptuousness for her own son, neither of their parents approved of Yi’s scientific endeavours with them being such devoted Taoists, but their mother was always especially hard on him, even more so after the incident in his lab. Heng herself also believed in the Tao, but also believed Yi was correct in following his own path and would always believe in him.
“I just wanted to make sure his room was in order.” She says, forcing a smile.
Her mother scoffed, the sound sharp and humorless.
“In order.” she echoed, stepping fully into the room now. Her gaze lingered on the desk, the scattered books, the ink-stained wood, as though each item personally offended her. “You’ve been avoiding this room for months. I was beginning to think you had finally come to your senses.”
Heng’s forced smile wavered. “He’s coming home today.”
“Yes.” her mother said curtly, “and he will leave again just as quickly. The council does not grant roots, only longer chains.” She crossed her arms, sleeves whispering against one another. “You would do well to remember that.”
Heng swallowed. “He’s earned this. Becoming a Sol isn’t-”
“-natural.” her mother cut in sharply. “Nor is it wise.” Her eyes hardened as they flicked back to Heng. “All that tinkering, all those theories. You remember what it brought him, what it brought to you?”
How could she forget, it had been the most traumatic day of her life. His experiment with the Mystic Nymph had gone all wrong. There was an explosion, Yi had sheilded her with his own body protecting her at the cost of his own life. After the smoke had cleared all she could do was cry above his mangled body, his entire left side was gone and she still called for him, begging him to wake up and by some miracle her cries were heard.
The Primordial Roots fused with him, stabilizing what should have been fatal wounds. Yet he did not wake, not until word of the accident spread beyond their home and reached his mentor, Eigong, who came to treat him further. Soon after, Yi became her student… and left again for the academy. She had lost him twice with no time for her to allow herself to come to terms with losing him once.
She knew her brother was ambitious, that he always needed to keep moving foreward, and she never held that against him, but losing him twice in what felt like mere seconds inbetween was almost enough to tear her apart. It got easier to manage as the years went on but she never would get used to it.
“That was an accident.” Heng mumbled, shrinking under her mothers unfaltering glare.
“One that almost got you both killed.” Was her mothers immidieate response.
Silence settled heavy between them. At last, her mother turned away with a sharp huff. “Enough lingering. Go help prepare dinner. And stay out of this room, you need to forget about him like he’s forgotten about us.”
With that, she left, her footsteps firm and final.
Heng remained where she was for a moment longer, staring at the place her mother had stood. Her chest ached, but she forced herself to breathe, to smooth her expression back into something neutral. Before leaving, she set about straightening the bed and opening the windows, letting fresh air and late afternoon light spill in. Tonight, the room would no longer feel so empty.
The house grew restless as evening fell lamps were lit, dishes set, voices murmured low. Heng hovered near the entrance more than once, keeping lookout for any sign of Yi’s arrival, earning sharp looks from her mother she pretended not to notice.
There was just one final thing she needed to check on to make sure tonight would be perfect.
Last year, Yi had returned home briefly, long enough for a rare day of peace between him and their mother and long enough for the family to make a batch of peach blossom wine together. She smiled at the memory, she and her father worked overtime keeping those two docile for the entire day. Heng had worked hard and waited an entire year to share this with him. It'd be terrible if after all this time spent waiting the seal on the jar was damaged.
She was on her way back to the front of the house to check for Yi’s arrival when she froze, instinctively retreating into the shadows. Raised voices echoed down the hall.
“Enough.” their mother snapped, anger sharp in her tone. “Haven’t you disgraced this family enough? And now you want to drag your sister down with you?”
Heng could see Yi’s still form from her hiding place, though she couldn’t make out his expression she watched his hands clench and shake.
“Heng won’t be going anywhere with you!” their mother continued. “Don’t you ever put her in harm’s way again! Wasn’t the last time enough?!”
With that, she stormed off, footsteps pounding down the hall. Their father called after her, but not a single step faltered.
“Why can’t we have a conversation that lasts more than a minute?” he sighed, glancing at Yi. “You really should know better by now. You know how your mother is.”
Then he followed after her, leaving Yi standing alone and Heng hidden in the dark, heart heavy with everything she hadn’t been meant to hear.
Heng stayed where she was, pressed into the shadows as if they might swallow her whole. Her heart hammered against her chest, every word of the argument echoing painfully in her mind. She hadn’t meant to listen. Yi turned his back ready to walk back into the night. If she did nothing now the night seemed to be over before it even began.
Slowly, carefully, she took a deep breath plastering on a small smile to attempt to give Yi some amount of comfort after the exchange she accidentally walked in on.
“I imagine you won’t be staying for dinner.” she said lightly.
Yi turned at once. “Were you listening?” he asked, exhaling sharply, but she saw his hands relax, his shoulders ease.
“Not everything.” she admitted. “Just the tail end I believe.”
He sighed, lifting his hands to tuck them into his sleeves. She watched him carefully, hoping his silence meant he was reconsidering.
“I doubt any of us could eat dinner without spitting it back out in another quarrel.” he said at last.
He rolled his eyes, and she laughed, because that wasn’t a no.
“Should you really be so upset?” she teased. “Today is a day of celebration, after all.”
He averted his gaze, pretending indifference. “Isn’t Lear Day next month?”
Her smile widened. Even after all this time, Yi was still Yi. Once, she would have already crossed the distance between them, arms wrapped tight around him, but they were no longer children.
“No.” she said softly. “You’ve finally become a Sol. Don’t you think that’s worth celebrating?”
“Not really, as far as mother and father are concerned.” He scoffed, facing her once again. “They don’t care what I have to say. Is wanting to improve life on Penglai truly such a terrible act?”
Yi’s words lingered between them, heavier than the evening air.
Heng’s smile softened, losing its teasing edge. “They care.” she said gently. “They just… don’t know how to see the world the way you do.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, one without much humor. “They see it just fine. They simply prefer it unchanged.”
She hesitated, then stepped closer. The distance between them felt wider than it should have, stretched thin by years apart and all the things left unsaid.
“And you prefer to change it.” she continued. “You’ve only ever wanted to understand the world. To make things better. That’s not wrong, and they’re not wrong for wanting things to stay as they are, it’s been our faith since the era of peace began.”
Yi opened his mouth to counter but she continued before anything could escape. “You believe science is the answer, but for others, inaction is the truth.”
“Truth?” He scoffed, taking a hasty step closer to her further thinning the gap between them. “The Fangshi Guild started off as a scientific organization!”
His voice raised allowing his frustration to unfurl, Heng stood unmoving allowing him to say what he needed, he knew he wasn’t frustrated with her but having their parents still disregard his achievements after all these years, after all the works he’s put in for the sake of their people and to still be cast aside by his very parents.
“Lear was a scientist long before all this superstitious Taoist drivel!” He opened his mouth to add more before sighing and calming himself. “Forget it… they’ll see one day, with my plans I’ll create a new paradise!”
She smiled at his resolve and it warmed her heart to see how quickly he was able to pick himself back up.
“Of course!” She grinned, clasping her hands together. “I’ve always believed in you, Yi.”
If he said he would be the one to create a new paradise she believed him with her entire being, the only thing that she would hope is that there would be room in that paradise for her alongside him.
“But all that aside… is there any way I can convince you to stay?” She hummed, getting their original conversation back on track. “Do you remember last year's peach blossom wine? I waited a whole year just so we could try it together.”
For a moment, Heng thought he might refuse outright, thought she might see that familiar tightening of his shoulders, the way his gaze would already be drifting toward the horizon, toward duty and distance.
“What if it were just the two of us?” She added hastily, before he could answer himself, wringing her hands together trying to think of what to say next. “If you don’t mind waiting for father and mother to finish, the two of us can-”
“Okay.”
The word struck like a bell, cutting cleanly through her rambling. She blinked, breath stolen from her chest.
He was staying.
Joy flared bright and sudden, warmth rushing through her so fast she couldn’t contain it. Before she could think better of it, she crossed the final bit of distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, pressing him close as if to anchor the moment in place.
Caught off guard, Yi stiffened for the briefest moment, Heng felt it but only squeezed him tighter; she wouldn’t allow him to pull away now. It had been far too long since they embraced holding him here now against her chest felt like a piece of herself had finally returned. Childishly she giggles hearing him sigh seconds before wrapping his arms around her.
“…You haven’t changed at all.” he murmured, his voice quieter now.
She laughed softly against his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not when it comes to you.” he replied, and there was something warm in the way he said it. Something fond. Part of her was afraid he’d hear her heart racing, but a larger part of her didn’t care, just wanting to hold him for just a bit longer.
They stood like that for a moment longer, the house breathing around them, the weight of unspoken years pressing gently at their backs. When Heng finally eased away, she saw the faint smile he hadn’t quite managed to hide.
“Come on.” she said, clearing her throat as she turned toward the inner rooms. “Before you change your mind.”
He nodded wordlessly following behind her as she guided him through the home they grew up in until they stopped at his old room.
“You can wait here for the time being, I’m sure you won’t mind.” She smiled sliding open the door. “I made sure it was ready for your arrival.”
Yi paused at the threshold.
For a moment he only looked at the familiar lines of the doorway, the soft glow of lamplight spilling across the floor, the room that had once held every version of himself before he was finally able to set out and really begin achieving his goals. It felt smaller than he remembered. Or perhaps he had simply grown too large for it, metaphorically speaking.
“You didn’t have to.” he said quietly.
“I wanted to.” Heng replied, just as softly.
She watched him step inside, her breath catching as the room seemed to recognize him at once. The air shifted. The silence settled differently. Even the dust drifting in the lamplight felt less lonely.
Yi moved slowly, almost reverently, as if afraid the room might vanish if he touched it too carelessly. His fingers brushed the edge of the desk, lingering over the familiar grooves worn by restless nights and half finished thoughts. His gaze caught on the ink stain, dark against the wood.
“…I remember this.” he said.
Heng smiled. “You weren’t even angry.”
“I was furious.” he corrected faintly. “Just not at you.”
She laughed under her breath, and the sound made him glad he had decided to stay.
Yi turned then, studying her with an intensity that made her shift slightly under his gaze. “You’ve been busy,” he said.
“So have you.” she countered, tilting her head. “Sol Yi.”
He huffed a quiet breath. “Don’t start.”
She grinned anyway.
Their mothers voice rang through the halls calling for Heng removing the two of them from the moment they shared.
“I should-” Heng began, then stopped, glancing back at Yi as if afraid he might vanish the instant she turned away.
“I’ll be here.” he said before she could finish, as though he’d read the thought on her face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The reassurance settled something restless in her chest. She nodded, smiling once more. “Good. I’ll come get you after they’ve gone to bed.”
They shared a final nod before Heng slipped out, sliding the door shut behind her with careful hands. Taking off down the hall she had made it to the dining room before she knew it, it felt like her steps were lighter than they had been all day.
Dinner passed in a haze Heng could hardly remember.
She ate, answered when spoken to, kept her head down when her mother’s gaze sharpened as if she knew her plans, but all the while her thoughts drifted back down the hall, to the quiet room and the brother waiting there. Yi was here. Really here. Not a letter, not a memory, not a half promised return that slipped through her fingers.
When at last their parents retired for the night, the house settling into its familiar hush, Heng rose with excitement racing back to Yi’s room.
The corridor was dim now, lanterns turned low, shadows creeping along the walls like something half-asleep. Heng moved quietly, bare feet careful against the old floorboards, though her heart thudded loudly enough she feared it might give her away. Every step was filled with anticipation, a thin thread of joy pulled against her chest.
She stopped before Yi’s door, hand hovering just short of the wood.
For a fleeting moment, fear crept in, what if he had changed his mind? What if he had left wordlessly because she lingered too long. She couldn’t bring herself to open the door, afraid that the room beyond would be empty, holding only the echo of his promise. She inhaled, steadying herself, then knocked softly.
“Yi?” she whispered.
There was no immediate reply but just as she was about to turn away the door slid open revealing Yi standing before her.
Yi’s eyes were dark in the lamplight, shadowed by the sleep he was pretending not to feel. His gaze softened the moment he saw her, softened in a way that made Heng’s breath catch in her throat.
“I nearly thought you’d gone and forgotten about me.” he said teasingly.
Heng let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The worry that had crawled up her spine loosened, replaced by a warmth that bloomed behind her ribs.
“Me?” she replied, stepping forward until the door frame held them both in its narrow light. “I could never forget about you dear brother.”
She tried to sound casual, but her smile betrayed her. Her hands, trembling slightly, reached out and found the edge of his sleeve, as if she needed proof that he was real.
Yi’s gaze dropped to her hand, then lingered there, his expression unreadable, yet strangely softened. He made no move to pull away.
“Hm.” he murmured, as though tasting the moment. “Of course.”
He glanced past her, down the hall, then back to her with a faint smirk. “Well, I hope you don’t plan on making me wait any longer. I’m starving. It’s been ages since I had your cooking.”
Heng’s cheeks warmed at the familiar tease. Even after months of absence, Yi’s humor still found its way back to her like a thread pulling them together. She smiled warmly, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, pulling him down the hall to the dining room for what was left of dinner. The table felt suddenly brighter with him there. Heng slid into the seat beside him, watching him eat and memorizing the sight. Every bite seemed to steady her, reminding her that he was real and here.
As he ate, she began to ask questions, one after another, eager and seemingly endless. About the other Sols, about the projects he’d been working on, abbout Kunlun, about the council, about everything she could think of. She wanted to drink in his world the way she used to drink in his presence, to make up for the months of silence with a flood of curiosity.
And Yi answered everything. Not just politely, but fully, his voice steady, his eyes brightening as he spoke, as if the act of sharing was its own kind of homecoming.
“I met Kaufu back during my time at the academy,” Yi said, setting his bowl down. “He didn’t think he was worthy of the title of Sol. I had to convince him otherwise.”
Heng’s smile softened. “I’m glad you have someone who’ll look after you,” she said, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.
Yi narrowed his eyes in mock offense. “I never said he looks after me.”
Heng’s grin widened. “You didn’t have to.”
Yi rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from the table. “We should drink before it gets too late.”
Heng nodded, rising as well. The excitement in her chest made her movements quick and light, but she kept her voice calm. “You get the wine while I clear the table. I’ll meet you in your room, alright?”
Yi glanced at the scattered dishes and the empty bowls, clearly tempted to insist on helping. Heng knew better. He was already worn thin from travel and work; adding chores would only send him straight to sleep before he’d even had a chance to taste the wine.
“If it makes you feel any better,” she said with a bright laugh. “I’m too excited to wash dishes tonight. I’ll incur mothers wrath in the morning.”
Yi scoffed, already turning away. “Don’t worry.” he called back, stepping into the hall. “She’ll just assume I distracted you.”
Heng’s grin widened as her gaze followed him until he was out of sight, and she heard him add jokingly. “Which isn’t necessarily untrue.”
Not wanting to keep him waiting like before, Heng moved quickly, clearing the table with efficiency, gathering the dishes, and hurrying them to the sink. The clang of porcelain sounded too loud in the quiet house, but she didn’t slow down; her parents room was too far away to worry about waking them now. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of this night.
Excitement getting the better of her she grabs to cups from the cupboards and darts back down the dimly lit hall to where Yi awaited her each step she took mimicked her own heartbeat finally steadying when she reached Yi’s open door
“I hope you haven’t fallen asleep yet,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
Yi didn’t bother to look at her, not taking his eyes off the jar of peach blossom win that sat in front of him, but she could practically hear the eye roll even before she saw it. He shifted slightly, then gestured to the spot beside him on the floor.
“Stop talking nonsense and sit down already.” he said.
Heng laughed, the sound spilling out of her like relief. She stepped inside, careful not to drop the cups in her hands. The room felt smaller now, more intimate, the air heavy with the scent of old books and the faint trace of his presence.
She sank down beside him, the wood floor hard on her bottom.
Yi’s eyes flicked to the cups in her hands, then back to her face. There was a quiet softness there, something like gratitude, or perhaps a relief he didn’t know how to name.
“You’re excited.” he said, stating the obvious more to himself than to her.
Heng set the cups down on the floor between them, then lifted the jar of peach blossom wine and began to pour. The liquid glowed faintly in the lamplight, pale and delicate, like spring in a jar.
“I waited a whole year for this.” she said, voice steady despite the way her fingers trembled.
Yi watched the wine fill the cup, then nodded once. He held his cup for a moment, contemplating what to say in the moment before finally settling on something simple. Then he lifted it, meeting her eyes.
“To a year.” he said, voice low.
Heng’s chest tightened. “To a year.” she echoed, and lifted her cup to meet his.
They drank.
The wine was sweet just as she imagined it would taste. Like a memory held tightly in the back of her mind, it was the personification of her time spent with him. It warmed her from the inside, and she felt the tension she didn’t know she was holding in her shoulders loosen. For a moment, all the sharp edges of the day, the argument, the anxiety, the silence, fell away. Only the two of them remained.
Yi set his cup down carefully, his eyes stayed fixed on the floor between them for a heartbeat, and then, as if deciding there was no use hiding it anymore, he looked up.
“I almost didn’t come back.” he began, voice quiet, “I was afraid.”
Heng blinked, startled. “Of what?”
Yi’s expression shifted, the hardness of his earlier frustration melting into something more raw, more vulnerable. “I was worried you’d be… distant. Like you’d look at me the same way our parents do.”
Heng smiled, sliding closer until their hands met. She felt him flinch just barely, yet he didn’t pull away..
“Stop talking nonsense.” she murmured, echoing his earlier words with a softer tone. “You’re my most important person. It seems your time away has made you forget that.”
Yi let out a quiet huff, annoyed by her teasing, far too sober to start getting as sappy as he was. He reached for the jar and poured them each another cup of wine.
“Now that I’m a Sol I’ll be better about staying in touch.” He murmured.
Heng’s heart fluttered at the promise. She lifted her cup, meeting his gaze.
“I’ll hold you to that.” she said, smiling.
Yi’s face shifted into a mock sternness, but the warmth beneath it was impossible to hide. He lifted his cup again, and they drank in quiet companionship, the conversation fading as the wine and the night settled around them.
Eventually, sleep caught up with him. His head lolled to the side and came to rest against her shoulder, already beginning to snore with the same familiar loudness she had missed so much.
Heng couldn’t help laughing softly, the sound slipping out quietly. She had forgotten how comforting even his smallest habits could be.
She settled her hand over his, fingers curling gently around his. And in that moment, holding him close, she felt the ache of his absence ease for the first time since he left.
She felt him.
Right here.
And that was enough.