Tonight was a true blessing; a warm cup of tea after a delicious meal, a beautifully rare clear night complete with sparkling stars and a calm breeze. The tops of the trees blew gently as the last of the birds and rodents found their ways home for the night, as the bamboo forests settled and a tiger saluted the sunset with a distant growl.
As the gentle wind caressed his face and hair, Hong Kong couldn't help but smile. He was home again.
"I've got some more tea, aru, if you're interested!"
Hong Kong turned to his approaching brother, who since he'd returned looked a thousand years younger. He was bright and smiling, and had been since Hong Kong had stepped back through the doorway of his old home. He'd fussed over him like a mother, despairing over his new eyebrows and cooking various things he remembered Hong Kong would enjoy. On the whole, China was happier than he'd been in decades.
"Thank you," he said softly, helping himself to a cup as China quickly slurped down his own.
Neither of them spoke for a time afterwards. They watched the last rays of the golden sun disappear beneath the horizon. Crickets chirped in a symphony as fireflies began a dazzling lightshow, a nocturnal performance that seemed to be for their entertainment alone. Hong Kong felt tired, as if he was getting on in years, and he gently laid his head against China's shoulder.
"Hong, aru?" China asked tentatively, "Are you happy, aru, to be home with me again?"
Hong Kong opened his eyes and abruptly turned his head upward, staring into the ancient's face with a blank mask of focus. England had offered him tasteless-often poisonous-food, control of everything he did by force, theft of his culture, and curses of his eyebrows. He missed nothing about English rule, nothing.
He nuzzled his head back down against China's shoulder, nodding silently and moving ever closer.
He heard China laugh then, as he wrapped an arm around the young man's shoulders and squeezed.
"I'm glad to know it, aru, because you know," he hesitated, and Hong Kong could hear a tinge of sadness in his words, "you're the only one who's ever come back, aru."
The grief and regret in his voice tightened Hong Kong's chest, and he found it harder to breath. He took hold of China's right arm and squeezed gently.
"…stop speaking English."
As the two huddled together, silent in their own emotional pools, a shooting star flew across the sky, taking with it the hopes and desires of those who'd suffered enough.