Title: The Tale of Three Meis
Author: vanillavinegar
Rating: K+
Summary: From the moment Mei first brings the tiny, grumpy panda home, her aunt knows this is a bad idea.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Hiromu Arakawa-san. The only profit I make from this work of fiction is my own satisfaction and, possibly, the enjoyment of others.
Author's Notes: This fic was my entry for this year's fma_ladyfest, held on livejournal and celebrating the awesome women of FMA. According to the FMA wikia, the phonetics for 'Xiao Mei' mean 'little sister' in Mandarin Chinese; discussion with livejournal member derawr has made me question this, but for the purposes of this fic I will say that it does mean 'little sister' in Xingese if not in Chinese. More substantial notes at end.
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The imperial messenger had already come and gone by the time Mei Chan hurtled down the stairs, still tying off the ends of her braids. Her aunt slowly rose from her bow, staring into the grey mists that concealed the messenger's white horse. "He didn't wait for a response," she said, worriedly.
Mei bit her lip.
Dongmei hesitated only a moment, still vainly searching the foggy hills as if the messenger would turn around, before she held out the letter. "It's addressed to Your Highness." Her aunt always called her by her title, never her name, as a way of instilling the proper pride of her position. "You are the seventeenth princess," she had said countless times as she brushed Mei's hair. "You must never forget that you are the emperor's own daughter. You look up to none but His Majesty himself. And when you are Empress—"
If Mei's mother were there, she would hurry to shush her sister. "Are you mad?" Mei always imagined her hissing. "That is treason!" But Jingfei had been in the capital city for ten months, and in Mei's memory her aunt continued uninterrupted.
"And when you are Empress, everyone will look up to you. You will change the fortunes of the Chan clan, Your Highness."
The letter was signed but unsealed – a second hallmark of trouble – and Mei read it quickly. "His Majesty has refused my petition," she said, hand falling to her side. She felt blank. "Mother's stay at court continues, indefinitely. I am not allowed to visit her."
Dongmei swept the letter up before it could drop to the floor as well. Her eyes flickered across the neatly-inked words (written by a secretary, no doubt, as impersonal as if she were not his own blood) before closing. Her mouth tightened; she exhaled heavily.
"He is disappointed in my progress," Mei said into the silence.
"You need to eat, Your Highness," her aunt countered – as good a confirmation as any.
Mei frowned, turning her face away. "I want to take a walk first," she said.
Her aunt glanced through the still open door. The mist had stiffened into a drizzle. "I do not know if that is wise, Your Highness…"
"I wish it," Mei repeated. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting.
Dongmei sighed, refolding the letter and tucking it into her sleeve. "Cover your head," was all she said.
Mei had not gone far into the hills before the rain stopped. The weather refused to clear, however, and the mistiness thickened into fog.
Mei sighed.
At eight years of age, she was almost squarely in the middle of the emperor's children – for now. She had heard that the Shih clan was currently expecting another child of His Majesty (their third), which would bring the total up to thirty-six. Then again, the Feng clan's son, one of the eldest of them all, had been seriously injured in an 'accident' (likely the work of an assassin, but no one would confess to that, of course), and if he died that would drop the total again.
Mei could not recall a time when she did not know these fluid numbers; one of her earliest memories involved reciting the ages and clans of her half-siblings to her aunt, as her mother (a distant but bright figure, even in memory) nodded approvingly in the background. As her clan was one of the smallest – only a few hundred people claimed loyalty to them – and the weakest – even lower than the Tongs, who didn't have any living heirs – knowledge of the shifts in court was essential to the survival of both Mei and her clan.
And now it seemed even the emperor – her own father – had turned against them.
"I try," she muttered to herself as she walked, trying to maintain the graceful posture Dongmei constantly emphasized, "I learn as much as I am able, as fast as I am able, and still I—" She bit her tongue, as much to bring herself to the present as to stop her own words. Decisions of the emperor were not to be criticized, even when she was alone in the middle of her clan's small section of the countryside.
She reached the top of the hill and gazed behind her, back toward the home she and her aunt kept alone while her mother was in the capital. She ought to return. Dongmei would worry, and she needed to study, and she should remember the accident that had fallen on the Feng heir, and this weather was ideal for colds, and…
Mei continued walking.
Foolish, she berated herself, childish and willful. Is it any wonder His Majesty wants nothing to do with you? If it even was the emperor's wish to keep her mother by his side at all. Perhaps Jingfei desired another prince or princess to be born to the Chans – a child who would be quicker, stronger, smarter, better than Mei.
"I try," she repeated, voice trembling. She hunched her shoulders. The cold was seeping into her jacket; she should've worn a thicker today. "I do."
When the sound came – a low, despairing whimper at the edge of her hearing – Mei thought it was only her imagination – a hopeless accompaniment to her bleak thoughts. When it came again, though, she looked up – and stopped, surprised.
Mei had seen some of the great pandas that roamed the hills of her clan's province; she had even had the good fortune to see a young cub, once, before she had scrambled away lest its mother think her a threat. But she had never seen such a tiny one before – she was sure she had seen larger kittens in the village. It was huddled in on itself, sopping fur sticking up at strange angles where it had clearly been half-heartedly washing, and it was emitting some of the saddest sounds Mei had ever heard.
Her first instinct was to draw back; pandas might be slow to anger, but nursing mothers were easy to enrage. Another glance, however, told her not only that there were no adult bears in sight, but also why.
"You're a runt," she inadvertently breathed. The minuscule cub faced her hastily. It looked terrified. "Your mother abandoned you, didn't she? Because you're so small and—" she gulped, "—and she doesn't think you'll survive."
The cub was still staring up at her, apparently frozen with fear. Mei realized how large and frightening she must appear to such a little creature and quickly bent down, minimizing her size. Her free hand reached out, almost unconsciously. She had often longed for one of the cats or dogs she had seen in the village, but her mother and aunt had always forbidden it. "We must take care of you first, Your Highness. There is no space for a pet." But Mei still adored furry animals, and most of all she desired to pet them.
The panda watched her hand come nearer with unblinking eyes. Mei wondered if it was still scared; she didn't want it to run away. She wasn't sure why – Dongmei would never allow her to keep it – but she wanted to show the thing some small kindness, perhaps to give it heart so it would not give up on life. At least it had stopped making those pitiful whimpers. Maybe it was getting over its fright—
As soon as her fingertips were close enough, the panda opened its mouth wide and bit her, all its strength going into those sharp little teeth.
Mei's howls echoed around the hills.
"I am going to keep her," she announced to a tight-lipped Dongmei. The panda huddled resentfully in the crook of her elbow. "She's not a pet, so there's no reason to forbid it, aunt – she's to be my companion."
"Your… companion, Your Highness," Dongmei repeated. Her voice was perfectly flat.
"Yes," Mei replied. "O-other clans have bodyguards for their princes and princesses. Our clan doesn't, so I shall have a companion instead." She fought to keep her voice as steady as her aunt's. The panda was still making thin growling noises, as she'd done, off and on, while Mei carried – well, wrestled might be a truer term – her down from the hills.
Dongmei raised an eyebrow. Mei only hoped that when she was empress she would be half as regal in her displeasure. "Companion in what, Your Highness?"
"I-in everything." Mei refused to give in. "Working, learning, sleeping, eating… in everything, aunt."
"Indeed? And what is she to eat?"
"Whatever I do," Mei said immediately. As if recognizing the topic at hand, the panda began gnawing at Mei's sleeve; she winced, rubbing two fingers against the injured third in memory. "And I think we'd like to eat now," she added loftily.
Dongmei merely looked at her, lips still pressed.
"I," Mei began, then changed her mind. "Please, aunt. She's been abandoned by her mother – she'll die by herself. And you always say that a ruler must have as much compassion as wisdom." She stared up at her aunt, trying to look not like what she knew she must – a little girl begging to keep a stray – but instead what she wished to be – a princess who wished to make others acknowledge the rational decision she'd made.
After a moment, Dongmei closed her eyes and exhaled loudly through her nose. "If she is to be your companion, Your Highness, than she will be your companion. She will do what you do, when you do it, how you do it."
Mei bit down a most unseemly shout of joy – as well as a simply undignified squeal when the panda's teeth found skin instead of cloth. She inclined her head – "You do not bow to others, Your Highness, excepting only His Majesty and your mother" – and turned, only stopping when Dongmei lightly tugged the end of one of her braids.
"Your Highness… honored niece." Mei sucked in a breath; she could count on
one hand the times her aunt had called her that. Dongmei's eyes were worried. "You know that cubs rarely survive being abandoned by their mothers."
"I know, aunt." However weak the panda may have been, she showed little sign of it as she continued to shred Mei's sleeve. "I know, but I–"
"A ruler keeps her word," Dongmei said, and released Mei's braid. She folded her hands together. "Now I think we should see what your new… companion… will eat."
As it turned out, the panda would eat anything. She ate Mei's porridge, her aunt's buns, and even tried to stick her nose into the bowl of soup that sat between them. "At least it won't starve," was Dongmei's dry contribution. Mei stifled her giggles into her hand, and tried not to wince every time she put pressure on her bandaged fingers.
The panda looked up from the decimated remains of her portion and bared her teeth at them.
As they cleared the table, Dongmei said, "Perhaps Your Highness should practice her penmanship."
Mei, knowing that phrasing it as a suggestion didn't actually mean her aunt was suggesting it, nodded and scooped the panda up in one hand. The panda immediately started biting at her fingers, apparently out of habit. She settled after a moment and peered around curiously as Mei rifled through the study. When Mei sat, folding her legs under her and arranging her materials, the panda crawled up her arm and perched on her shoulder to watch.
Mei rubbed at her arm, where the panda's sharp little claws had pierced through her sleeve. "You're destroying my clothes," she told the panda. The cub appeared completely unrepentant as she stared down at Mei's desk. "Oh, you want me to practice, too?" Mei shook her head.
Picking up the inkstick in one hand, she ground it lightly on the stone. The panda balanced on her shoulder easily and Mei thought it safe to apply more force. Soon the inkstone's water darkened to a usable shade and she set the stick aside in favor of her brush. Dongmei had long since stopped assigning her random assortments of words; now Mei's task had become making her script as perfect as possible. As usual, she began with a list of the emperor's titles; she had practiced these so often that they had become rote and soothing. His Imperial Majesty, she wrote, Emperor Above, Son of Heaven, Lord of
Her stroke skidded across the stretched sheet of paper as the panda suddenly leapt from her shoulder and attacked the brush. "No!" Mei shrieked as sharp little teeth sank into the brush's soft wood. She shook the brush, trying to dislodge the animal; the panda hung on grimly. "Stop that. Let go." Mei waved the brush harder. The panda was a black-and-white blur before Mei stopped. She scowled down at her 'companion', who was adjusting her grip and gnawing all the harder. "You just ate," she reminded the panda, who growled meaningfully. Mei growled back. "Brushes are not food! They are for writing! Like this!" She yanked the brush out of the panda's mouth with one swift motion. Her free hand forced the panda's front paws into an approximation of a human's grip and she shoved the brush forward. The panda's claws latched onto it instinctively.
For a moment, girl and panda glared at each other. The panda was still clutching the brush in both paws, but Mei was certain that would only last so long as she physically held the panda's limbs in place. She hesitated, but she had already gone this far. As her aunt sometimes said, risking one coin was the same as risking a dozen. "Now, write like this!" They briefly struggled for control of the brush; Mei won and, with a few deft strokes, they finished the phrase she had been writing. Lord of Ten Thousand Years.
She surveyed the thick, blotchy characters ruefully. "Well, you will win no awards for penmanship," she sighed, and released the panda as she rummaged for another brush. The panda watched her with suspicion, even as Mei spread out a second sheet of paper and dipped her new brush in the ink. Mei lapsed back into the familiar rhythms of the strokes, letting her brush flow from one character to the next. She finished the formal address for His Majesty and paused for the ink to dry.
Beside her, the panda too sat back on her haunches, squeaking impatiently until Mei glanced down at her original paper. She blinked to see the rough splotches of ink underneath her own writing. The panda stared up at her expectantly, legs still wrapped around the tooth-mark ridden brush. "You need some more practice," Mei said bluntly.
The panda squawked, sounding indignant.
"Well, it's true!" Mei snapped. "And you can't let your brush run out of ink like that, it's crude! Watch." She proceeded to demonstrate the most basic rules for calligraphy, occasionally rapping the cub's paws to ensure her 'companion' was paying attention, usually being rewarded with another attempt at a bite or an irritated squeal.
She was so preoccupied with the impromptu lesson, in fact, that she failed to notice her aunt silently watching them both from the open doorway.
At dinner that evening, Mei picked apart a rice ball with her kuaizi for the panda to eat. She thought as she ate her own food, wondering if the panda could learn to maneuver a pair of the utensils – if she could find a pair small enough – if she could maybe trim down a pair they already owned (if her aunt would let her near a knife for that purpose) – if she could do the same with a brush…
"I think Your Highness should visit Master Ru tomorrow," Dongmei said suddenly.
Mei fumbled her kuaizi, working not to drop them or her food. Finally she managed to set her bowl and utensils down without embarrassing herself. Her aunt continued to eat calmly, apparently not noticing Mei's surprise. "The alkahestrist?" Mei wondered. "But I'm not sick."
"For your pet, Your Highness, not for yourself. Perhaps he will be able to tell Your Highness why it was abandoned or further instructions for its care. After all, it may be sick, and we would not recognize the signs."
"Companion, not pet," Mei insisted absently. Her eyes were on the panda, which had already devoured the rice given her and was looking predatorily at Mei's bowl. She didn't look sick. But her mother had forsaken her…
Mei glanced up at Dongmei. Her aunt's eyes were cast downward, apparently giving all of her attention to her food, but Mei knew that this was yet another command in the guise of a suggestion.
"Perhaps that is a good idea," she conceded, flicking a few more grains of rice to the table for the panda and hoping her aunt didn't notice.
"Your Highness is wise," her aunt replied mildly.
The panda gulped the rest of her food and growled for more.
In the morning, Mei attempted to clean her companion before they went down to the village. The panda fought her at every step, snarling at the soap and snapping at Mei's fingers. "Stop that!" Mei scolded, washing the panda's face vigorously. "We're not going to see the alkahestrist looking like we've been rolling in the dirt. Even if you have," she added. The panda finally settled into a sulky stillness, and Mei quickly dried her fur and then patted down her own braids for the third time. She took a deep breath as she placed the panda into the crook of her elbow. "I think we're ready." The panda scampered up her arm and onto her shoulder, resisting Mei's efforts to dislodge her. "Oh, fine!" Mei threw up her hands and stalked out of the house. The panda made a contented trilling noise.
Master Ru lived on the far side of the village, where the rolling foothills smoothed into a long plain. He and his wife, Qiaolian, were both positively ancient and – like many alkahestrists, or so the gossip ran – absolutely mad as well. Mei wasn't sure if that were true – she had seen odd behavior from the elderly couple, but then she'd seen odder from others, and she herself was determined to keep a carnivorous runt of a panda cub as a sort of bodyguard. Whatever the state of his sanity, Master Ru was still universally respected as a scholar and an alkahestrist. The village was proud of his skills and knowledge, and more pleased still that it was rare for someone to need to journey to a larger city for healing.
The building into which Mei stepped was both shop and home for Master Ru, as well as where he let patients stay if they needed overnight care. There was no door in the frame, and the only light came through the empty doorway and the equally empty windows. Mei looked around, but the place seemed deserted. The panda crawled from one shoulder to the other curiously.
"Master Ru?" Mei called, picking her way to the counter above which strings of herbs hung from the ceiling. She pulled herself over the counter to peek behind it before dropping back to the floor in disappointment. There really wasn't anyone there. "I wonder where they've gone," she murmured to the panda, turning around to face the dark, vacant shop again.
"Where who've gone, young lady?"
Mei and the panda both squeaked and jumped in fright as a tiny old man, not much taller than Mei herself, leapt up in front of her. "Oh, Master Ru," Mei gasped. The panda growled from her shoulder; Mei absently reached up a hand to pat her fur soothingly. "I was looking for y—"
"Ah, the young princess!" he interrupted. He bowed eagerly; the battered, floppy hat on his head fell to the floor. "Ah, my hat!" he exclaimed in the same tone of pleased surprise, snatching it and dropping it back onto his head, where it tilted precariously. "So good to see you," he said, once more speaking to Mei and bowing. A wide smile spread across his face when he popped back up, making his small dark eyes almost disappear into the folds of wrinkles.
Mei inclined her head, clasping her hands together so she wouldn't fiddle with them nervously. The panda had stopped growling but continued to glare at the still grinning and bowing old man from Mei's shoulder. "Yes, Master Ru, it is good to see you as well. I ha—"
"We don't get to see you as often as we'd like," the alkahestrist interrupted, beaming even more widely. "Or your mother, or your dear aunt. How is Jingfei? Or is it Dongmei who's the aunt now?"
"Jingfei is—"
But Master Ru cut in again. "We saw a messenger on a horse yesterday, you know. Great huge thing. I don't trust horses. Too tall." He shook his head.
Mei nodded patiently. Master Ru had a tendency to ramble, and interrupt others as well as himself. The only way to get to the point was to wait for him to give you an opening – and then be faster than a hawk.
Sure enough, he left the topic of horses and imperial messengers to blink at the panda on her shoulder, which he'd apparently only just noticed. "Ah, and this must be your sister!" he cried excitedly. "Your little sister, of course – or, that is, your little little sister." He chuckled warmly, stroking the panda's hand with one finger. She gave another pleased hum.
"No, Master Ru, that's not my sister – she's a baby pa—"
"Yes, yes, just a baby. That's all right, she'll get bigger soon enough, won't you, little sister? On the inside, if not the outside." He patted the panda again, ignoring Mei's attempts to correct him. "Ah, but you're not here for me, are you? No, no, we heard all about it from your mother yesterday – or is she your aunt now? No, you're right, it doesn't really matter. Come, come, Qiaolian's waiting in the back. Go on!" One hand in the small of Mei's back pushed her forward, around the counter; his other opened the door to the half of the building where the couple lived. Ru hurried her down the short passage to another shut door, which he knocked on before calling, "Dear wife, our honored guest is here with her younger sister!"
"She's not my—" Mei tried again. A voice on the other side of the door cut her off this time.
"Come!"
Ru chuckled. "Don't worry! I'm sure you'll do wonderfully!" He opened this door as well and pushed her through, closing it after her.
Mei scowled at it, all reminders from Dongmei to respect elders fleeing her mind. What in the world is he talking about? she groused to herself. Then, My aunt was here? When? Why?
"Don't stand in the doorway, princess," came the same voice. Mei recognized it as that of Qiaolian, Master Ru's wife.
She turned from the door. The room was windowless and small. Qiaolian sat on a blanket with her back to the far wall. Two bright candles flickered between her and another blanket placed on the floor.
"Please, sit, your highness." Eyes closed, Qiaolian gestured to the unoccupied blanket.
Mei walked forward to kneel on it. The panda whimpered uncertainly, and Qiaolian's eyes opened.
"This is Xiao Mei?" she asked, holding out one plump hand, palm upward. The panda sniffed at her fingers and then hopped onto it. Qiaolian pulled her hand back in front of her, and panda and woman studied each other. Though no taller than Master Ru, Qiaolian was stout and heavy where her husband was bony and thin. Her long white braid was wound in a tight bun on the back of her head. Dark eyes glittered in the candlelight as she considered the animal in her palm.
"She's a panda," Mei said, relieved to finally be able to finish her sentences in Ru's absence. "Not my sister."
"No? Are you sure?" Qiaolian replied, her deep voice calm. Even with her most excitable husband, Mei had never seen Qiaolian anything other than unflappable.
"O-of course I am," she said, bewildered by the question.
Qiaolian shrugged. "If you say so." She set the panda down to scurry back to Mei. Qiaolian sat back, regarding Mei for a long moment in the same way she had the panda. "Your aunt asked us to discover whether you had any skill with alkahestry."
Mei blinked, taken aback. "S-she did?"
Qiaolian nodded silently.
"She didn't tell me," Mei said slowly. "Why would she do that?"
"She is worried for you." Qiaolian's gaze was steady; Mei dropped her eyes, picking at her blanket. "One of your brothers was gravely injured recently, was he not?"
"I don't consider sons of the emperor to be my brothers," Mei muttered.
"Nor do you consider Xiao Mei to be your sister," Qiaolian countered.
"She's a panda!"
"And you are a little girl."
Mei sputtered, unable to find an adequate response to this.
"But you are not here to talk of Xiao Mei, or of any of your siblings." Qiaolian paused for a moment, her breaths slow and even. Mei struggled not to fiddle with the ends of her braids. "What do you know of the dragon's pulse, princess?"
"The dragon's pulse?" Mei asked, thrown by the change in subject. "It… that is the flow of qi, isn't it? The way the emperor controls the land?"
"Something like that. The earth itself is a dragon, you know."
Mei blinked. The panda, sitting next to her on the blanket, made a confused-sounding chirp, and Qiaolian laughed.
"Not literally, princess! But, you see, there is energy – qi – in all things, living or not – in the earth, too. Just as the blood flows in the body, so does the qi through everything. The emperor – as well as those whom he favors – can sense this qi, and in some ways he can affect it. But His Imperial Majesty does not control it." She held Mei's eyes. "Alkahestry requires an understanding of the dragon's pulse, but merely possessing an ability to read the dragon's pulse does not make a person an alkahestrist. That takes training and much effort. That is what your aunt would have me make of you, princess."
"But—" Mei said, and then flushed at her inability to restrain her own tongue. Fortunately, Qiaolian did not appear offended; she waved her hand for Mei to continue. "But – forgive me, Mistress Qiaolian, but is not Master Ru the alkahestrist? Shouldn't he, if anyone, be teaching me alkahestry?"
Qiaolian's eyes twinkled in their dark depths. "Alkahestry is an adaptable field, princess. Its uses are as varied as the different forms of qi present in the world. While it is true that my husband is an accomplished practitioner of medical alkahestry – and, if you would like to and are able, you may learn that as well – I teach alkahestry as a martial art."
When Mei returned to her home that afternoon, mind so full that she did not even notice the panda's claws digging into her shoulder, she found her aunt nearly prostrate before her.
"Please forgive me, Your Highness," Dongmei murmured, hiding her face. "I have been untruthful to you."
"Aunt!" Mei dropped to her knees and hurriedly pulled on one of her aunt's sleeves; distantly, she noticed the panda plucking at the other sleeve, squeaking in a distress that mirrored her own. Slowly Dongmei rose to a sitting position, though she still refused to meet Mei's eyes. "No, my honored aunt, please do not do this. It is unnecessary. Please."
"I must beg forgiveness from Your Highness."
"No, you must not!"
"I lied to Your Highness about visiting Master Ru."
"I do not care, aunt. I do not hold it against you."
Dongmei glanced up into Mei's anxious face. "Forgive me, Your Highness. But I did not know – after what happened to Nianzu Feng—"
"There is nothing to forgive, honorable aunt." Dongmei seemed on the verge of protesting, but Mei added, "Please, aunt. I understand." And for the first time, Mei suddenly thought how lonely and hard it must be for her aunt, with no other family around but a young princess for whom she was completely responsible, with her sister in the capital city hundreds of miles away. "I – I am sorry for troubling you so much. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course, Your Highness." Dongmei's words were formal but her tone was not; without hesitation Mei flung herself into her aunt's arms. The panda jumped to the top of Mei's head and clung to her hair as the humans hugged. Mei sniffled as they parted. Dongmei cleared her throat, exhaling shakily. "Now. Would Your Highness like to eat dinner, and tell me of your day?"
Truthfully, Mei was too old for bedtime stories. Occasionally, she circumvented this by asking her aunt to read to her from a book before they went to bed, as she did that night.
Dongmei, who had continued in her unusual soft-heartedness for that entire afternoon, merely sighed. "Which book, Your Highness?"
"Oh, Xiao Mei will choose," Mei replied flippantly as she brushed out her hair.
Her aunt paused as the panda crawled down Mei's arm and began inspecting the bookshelf. "Xiao Mei?" she repeated. That flat tone had returned to her voice.
Mei felt a rush of embarrassment. The name had popped out without her quite meaning it to. "The alkahestrists seemed to think she was my sister today," she explained, devoting all of her attention to her hair and brush.
She couldn't see her aunt's face, and Dongmei didn't say anything until the panda nosed one book away from the others, making a high-pitched grunt of exertion when it fell over. Dongmei read the title aloud. "The Legend of the White Snake."
"Oh!" Mei gasped, turning around. That book was one of her mother's; Mei had always wanted to read it, but her aunt insisted that she was too young. She bit her lip as the extremely satisfied-looking panda scrambled back up to her shoulder. Her aunt's face was unreadable. "Of course you don't have to read it, aunt," Mei said, struggling not to show her disappointment.
Dongmei looked at the book, then back up at Mei. "If you are going to be an alkahestrist, Your Highness, I suppose I should stop treating you as a child." Then she smiled briefly. "Somewhat, at least."
"Thank you, aunt!" Mei turned to hide her broad smile. "Thank you, Xiao Mei," she whispered, patting the panda's nose.
The panda hummed happily and snapped at her fingers.
"Qi is found in all things," Qiaolian intoned. Just as they had the day before, she and Mei were both sitting on blankets in the small, barely-lit room. After a bit of inquisitive scurrying and sniffing, the panda had decided to perch on a corner of Mei's blanket. Mei's eyes were closed, but she could feel the cub's warmth near her knee. "Living things and non-living have qi," Qiaolian went on. "A mountain has qi, but so does a butterfly. It is easier to sense qi of the living – it is more active and therefore more vibrant, so it is more useful for training."
Mei's eyes fluttered open before she remembered to keep them shut. "Is that why we are alone here?" she asked, hastily adding, "Teacher."
"Yes," Qiaolian replied. "Even were the three of us to sit in a garden, for instance, the qi of the plants alone could be overwhelming to you as a beginner. Now, concentrate inwards. Feel your own qi, the way the dragon's pulse hums through you."
Mei inhaled slowly. They had done this exercise yesterday, but she still had to fight down excitement when she recognized the qi that was hers.
"Very good." Qiaolian's voice was serenely approving. "Focus on your qi. Let all else fade away."
Mei felt sweat popping out on her forehead from the strain. She fought to direct her attention to her qi, but a noise on the edge of her hearing distracted her. It was – a snore? It's just Xiao Mei, she realized, deciding to ignore it. Wait, she thought, Xiao Mei has never snored when she's sleeping at night… Her mild feeling of shame sparked into indignation. She's faking it!
"Xiao Mei!" she snapped, eyes opening and darting to the panda of their own accord. The cub was sprawled on her back, all four legs thrown about as her snoring grew louder. Mei could almost see a look of impish glee on the panda's face. "Bad Xiao Mei!" she scolded, scooping her up in one hand and wagging her finger sternly. "You are supposed to be concentrating, not acting like a mindless brat from the Yao clan!"
The panda ignored her completely, curling into a ball in Mei's palm and snoring in an outrageously loud manner.
"Xiao Mei," Qiaolian said softly. Both panda and girl froze. "It is all right, princess. Xiao Mei already knows about qi."
"She does?" Mei asked. The panda peered over the edges of her fingers and looked at Qiaolian, head tilted to one side.
"Of course. Animals have an innate sense of qi. Humans are at a disadvantage because they must learn on their own."
The panda sat up in Mei's hand, radiating smugness. Mei set her back on the ground and stuck out her tongue when Qiaolian's eyes shut. The panda returned the gesture and Mei huffed.
Neither of them saw Qiaolian's lips curve briefly upward.
After much pleading from Mei (earnestly imitated by the panda, who was now rarely found somewhere other than the girl's shoulder), Dongmei had commissioned a set of tiny kuaizi and brushes for the panda's use. Whatever misgivings her aunt might have had about the practicality of buying eating utensils and writing instruments for a bad-tempered panda cub (and Mei was sure she had some, even if she kept them to herself) were quickly allayed when the panda immediately began using them as often as the humans did. Her proficiency with them left a little to be desired – more than one meal ended with Mei flipping grains of rice into the air for the panda to catch when she grew too impatient to use her kuaizi – but Mei thought her aunt couldn't complain about that too much. After all, it wasn't as though a pet dog or cat could be nearly as talented as her panda companion.
Dongmei bought one more item for the panda at the same time. "In honor of Your Highness beginning her studies in alkahestry," she murmured as Mei eagerly pulled away the cloth wrapping it.
"Oh, aunt!" Mei exclaimed when she found the small, finely crafted comb and brush inside. She lifted them up for the panda to sniff at. "Thank you." They were not delicate pieces but well made and practical, the comb with sturdy wooden tines and the brush with short, thick bristles.
"My only stipulation, Your Highness, is that you make use of them," Dongmei said significantly.
The panda squeaked in an affronted manner when Mei grinned at her. "You know what that means, Xiao Mei," she said brightly. "Time for a bath!"
As she had when Mei washed her face days earlier, the panda resisted all of Mei's efforts to dunk her in the bucket of river water. "Stop it, Xiao Mei!" Mei panted, trying to maintain her hold on the panda without being bitten by her small, sharp teeth. "You're not the only person who takes baths, you know!"
Finally, she managed to submerge the cub completely. When she picked the panda back out of the water, her companion was clearly bitter about the entire process. She no longer squirmed and struggled, but she sagged in Mei's grip, deliberately flopping first one way and then the next in the most uncooperative manner possible.
"Useless Tong monster." Mei scrubbed determinedly at the bottom of her panda's feet. "Shameless Wan dog!" She rubbed the panda's fur dry briskly. "White-eyed Yao—"
"Your Highness!" Dongmei snapped from the next room.
Mei placed both hands over her mouth. She hadn't realized how loudly she had been insulting the contrary panda. "Forgive me, aunt," she called back.
The panda, sensing Mei's attention was elsewhere, suddenly rolled to her feet and attempted an escape, but Mei threw the towel like a net and caught her neatly.
"Xiao Mei, don't do that again, you daughter of a turtle—"
"Your Highness!"
Mei yelped. "I won't do it again!" And while she combed the knots out of the fidgeting panda's fur and brushed it into fluffy softness, Mei was obligingly silent.
Mentally, however, she called her panda the most horrible names an eight-year-old princess could devise.
"Concentrate, princess. Use your qi. Feel its flow."
Mei focused, too preoccupied even to bite at her lip. After much practice, she was able to sense her own qi at will, but today Qiaolian had started her on the next aspect of her training, which was necessarily more difficult.
"Qi flows through you as it does through me," Qiaolian's steady voice continued. Mei's eyes flickered behind the blindfold, instinctively trying to follow the sound before she stilled them. "There is a flow to everything in the world; this flow is its qi. Use your qi to feel it."
Once more Mei was sitting in the room where she and her master had been meeting for days, though this time Qiaolian may well have doused the candles for all Mei could tell. Instead of sensing her own qi, Mei's newest task was to seek out and identify the qi of something else.
"It is unlikely that you will be able to sense the qi of inanimate objects," Qiaolian had explained as she tied the cloth behind Mei's head. "But it is easiest to begin in as simple an environment as possible. Distractions create clutter; clutter creates uncertainty. I will speak to you at first, but if sound becomes a distraction we will block that as well."
"Qi flows through the earth. Qi flows through the air," Qiaolian said now, the drone of her voice not at all soothing. "The pulse of the dragon is the movement of this flow. Feel it."
Mei clenched her teeth. Her own qi quivered with the force of her concentration. She could feel it, with a sense that was not quite sight, not quite touch, but a little bit of both. She strained to find a hint of another qi, forced herself to breathe steadily, fought to use her own qi…
Suddenly she gasped, eyes flying open despite the blindfold. There, just there, was qi that was wholly unconnected with her. It seemed – smaller, somehow, than her own – not weaker, exactly, but fainter. Perhaps qi dimmed with age; she had never thought to ask before, though now the question seemed rather rude. She did not think she would dare to ask it of Mistress Qiaolian.
Firmly, she raised her hand and pointed straight at the other qi. Her own continued to pound with the intensity of her effort. "I sense qi there, teacher."
Qiaolian did not sound surprised when she replied. "Do you?"
Mei faltered, but the qi did not change. She knew it was there; she was not imagining it. "Yes, teacher."
There was a short pause. "And now?"
"I still sense it."
Another pause, and this time the qi moved. Mei followed it as best she could until it halted again, somewhere to her right. "Now it is there," she said without being prompted.
"Describe this qi." Qiaolian seemed to be directly behind her.
"It is – lighter, I think, than mine." Mei puzzled over the words, but they were the best ones she could find. "Not as…" She caught herself before she said 'strong'. "…large. Maybe… faster? No – more rapid. Something like that." She sighed. "I am sorry, Mistress Qiaolian. I don't think I'm explaining it very well."
Qiaolian chuckled, a short, low sound. "Nonsense, princess. You are doing very well. In time, you will be better able to describe different qi, and better able to recognize them as well."
Mei opened her mouth to ask what that meant, when she realized that Qiaolian's voice had come from behind her, and very close by. The qi had not moved again from its position, off to her right and much farther away.
Fingers worked at the knotted cloth and pulled it away from her eyes. Mei blinked in the candlelight, trying to readjust her vision. "I do not think any of us are surprised about this," Qiaolian said, pointing at the qi Mei had sensed – was still sensing, in fact, despite the removal of the blindfold.
"Xiao Mei!" she exclaimed. Her panda yawned, pink tongue flickering out briefly before she scrambled over to Mei's shoe and crawled up her clothes, finally resting on Mei's shoulder. Mei turned to her teacher, who looked content as she folded the cloth back up again.
"I told you before that all things have qi, even animals and little sisters," Qiaolian said mildly.
"But… wouldn't your qi have been easier for me to sense?" Mei asked. The panda on her shoulder was a familiar warmth through her sleeve. "We are both people, and Xiao Mei –"
"The easiest qi to sense is that most similar to your own," Qiaolian interrupted. Mei continued to gape, and there was the faint hint of a smile on Qiaolian's face as she said, "I think that enough for today's lesson, princess."
Mei eagerly undid her braids, unable to stifle an excited grin. She shook her loose hair back and closed her eyes, bringing forth her qi as she had been practicing. Almost instantly, she was aware of her panda by her side and, in the next room, her aunt preparing their sleeping mats. Technically, she had known what Dongmei was doing already – and with her eyes open, the panda would have been easily visible – but being able to sense their qi was more exciting, now that it came easily to her. She was certain she could have picked out their qi from a crowd – the panda's small but vibrant, her aunt's steady except for a slight flicker around the edges. Qiaolian refused to explain what a qi's appearance meant, stating that, in time, Mei would learn to interpret it for herself.
Movement of the brush in her hair made her eyes open. The qi slowly faded from her awareness. Qiaolian said that eventually she would always be able to sense qi without keeping her eyes closed, but she was not quite there yet. Still. Qiaolian had informed her that she had advanced enough that they could now begin a different phase of her training.
"Tomorrow, Xiao Mei," she whispered. "Tomorrow, I'll finally do some real alkahestry. Can you believe it?"
Behind her, the panda squeaked excitedly as she ran through the brush through Mei's hair. She still hated being bathed – in the wild, Mei guessed, panda cubs didn't usually plunge themselves into water to get clean – but she had come to enjoy the regular brushing of her fur. She had also begun brushing Mei's hair every night before bed, as if to reciprocate Mei brushing her fur every morning.
"And Mistress Qiaolian said we would begin our combat training too!" Mei continued, once more bubbling with excitement. "I can't wait—" Mei cut herself off, hissing as the brush caught in her hair. "Ow!"
The panda yelped, a sound Mei recognized as impatience.
"That hurt, Xiao Mei!"
The panda growled, yanking the brush through the snarl. This time, Mei was the one to yelp.
"Xiao Mei! You're pulling my hair out!"
The panda squeaked again as she picked at the strands now stuck in the bristles of the brush.
"I don't care if it'll grow back!" Mei grabbed at the panda. "How would you like to have your fur torn out?"
The panda scampered across Mei's shoulder and down her back, clinging to her blouse with sharp claws. Mei turned around, trying to catch her, but the panda darted off, brush clamped in her teeth. Dongmei stepped into the room, one eyebrow raised questioningly, and the panda scampered up her leg and side to perch on her shoulder.
Dongmei arched her other eyebrow. "Are you fighting with your companion, Your Highness?" she asked mildly. Holding the brush in her paws once more, the panda made a face at Mei.
Mei rubbed her scalp and glared at the panda, forcing herself not to stick her tongue out. "Of course not, aunt." She inched forward, eyes locked on the panda.
"Does a ruler lie, Your Highness?"
Mei stopped dead. Her aunt had not shouted or otherwise changed her tone or expression, but where once Mei would have heard only the usual chastisement about how a ruler behaved, now she felt embarrassment coiling within her. "No, aunt. A ruler is truthful and open."
Dongmei nodded and didn't say anything.
Hot shame crept up Mei's neck. "Xiao Mei pulled my hair and – no." She forced herself to look into her aunt's eyes. "We were fighting, aunt. I am sorry for deceiving you."
"Apology accepted." Dongmei took away the brush before plucking the panda off her shoulder and offering her to Mei. Instead of resting in Mei's hands, the panda ran up her arm and patted Mei's ear soothingly, letting out a small whimper.
"I'm sorry too, Xiao Mei." She stroked one finger along the panda's head. Her aunt tapped her shoulder; uncertainly, Mei turned to face away from her.
Dongmei gently ran the brush through Mei's hair as girl and panda exchanged a look. "A wise ruler also acknowledges when she has erred," she said, and this time Mei's blush was not from shame.
Summer brought a dry heat to the hills of the small corner of Xing claimed by the Chan clan. The woman on horseback shaded her eyes with one hand as she peered ahead, trying to make out the village. She had missed two springs in her home – being able to return at all was a privilege, but she had always enjoyed spring the most, when the green of the hillsides was freshest. It was a disappointment that she had not arrived until the summer drought started, and it was only her insistence that the winding roads through the hills were too narrow for the (slow and bulky) carriage that had made them leave it behind and ride the remainder of the journey. She suspected her companions had seen this for the excuse it was – had they followed the longer road around the hills, they could have come into the village on the plains-side. But it would have taken days if not weeks longer in the carriage, and she also believed that her companions were as eager to return as she.
And now, finally, Jingfei was nearly home.
The horse and rider in front of her vanished behind another hill as the path curved; when Jingfei rode after them, the roofs of the village appeared, a ways off yet but closer than she had been for months. She glanced back as the last member of their little party took the same turn and nodded toward the distant buildings. "Almost there, Niu!"
The large man ducked his head, hiding a smile of pleasure. "Yes, mother." This trip to the capital had been Niu's first, and Jingfei knew it had been difficult for the young man to leave his family for so long.
'Young man.' She shook her head at herself. He is not ten years younger than you. You are letting that title go to your head. She looked forward again, to Bo who was in the lead. While the Chans were too small to have families of bodyguards like the Yao and Shih clans, Jingfei had still taken these two with her to the capital, to act as her escorts and servants. For all his gentleness, Niu was a rather threateningly hulking figure, which was as good a deterrent as anything, and Bo, older and grumpy, had been accompanying her to the capital since before Mei's birth. Likely he had as much experience with the court as she did.
Soon enough, they had reached the outskirts of the village, causing a fluster as those who had seen them ride up called for others to come see the Lady Chan. Cries of "Welcome back, lady," and "We have missed you, Highness" rose up, and Jingfei couldn't help her answering smile. At her nod, Niu and Bo dismounted; she copied them, patting her horse's neck as Bo made his way over to take the reins from her.
"Your daughter has missed you as well, lady," said a soft, deep voice, and Jingfei turned to see the alkahestrist couple stepping forward. Master Ru grinned and bobbed several bows in rapid succession; his wife contented herself with one deep obeisance.
"Is Mei here?" Jingfei twisted, but she did not see her tiny daughter amidst the crowd. Not that any of the villagers would have impeded their princess, had she been present.
"I believe she is with your sister, lady. Or is she with her sister?" Master Ru asked.
"Yes," Mistress Qiaolian agreed. "She is at home with the sisters."
Jingfei blinked. What a strange way to put it. She shook it off, then, glancing in the direction of her home. "If you will excuse me then, Mistress Qiaolian, Master Ru."
"Of course." Both the alkahestrists bowed again. Jingfei started to move forward, flashing a hand signal at Bo so they would not follow. More bows followed her, and she nodded in return, smiling at familiar faces and noting the unfamiliar. This village made up the majority of those who relied on the Chan clan, and she owed it to them to spend time with them when she could, but now she couldn't help herself from hurrying on to her family.
The voices of the crowd faded as she approached her home, letting a new sound take its place. Jingfei stopped, trying to identify it. It seemed to coming from the other side of the house; she couldn't quite place it, but it reminded her of once when she had watched the emperor's soldiers practicing. They made similar cries as they struck at each other.
Ignoring whoever might be watching or what they might think of it, Jingfei gathered up her skirt and sprinted for the back of the house. Surely she was overreacting – she must have mistaken what she was hearing – Mei was not, could not be in danger here—
The first thing she saw as she rounded the corner of the building was her sister, standing still as a statue, eyes fixed forward. Jingfei breathed easier. Dongmei was utterly devoted to her niece; she would not sit idly by if something threatened Mei. Then Jingfei turned to see what her sister was staring at and wondered if she'd been right to panic from the start.
There was her daughter, moving through the grass with the speed of a child at play. She had grown, Jingfei could tell, almost a whole head from the look of it; some of her baby fat had melted away, leaving her face leaner, older. Truly she'd been gone too long. It took a moment for Jingfei to realize that her daughter was not dashing and ducking on her own. A blurry, black-and-white shape pursued her, now rushing at her face, now darting at her knees. Mei dodged the attacks, at times throwing punches of her own, but Jingfei knew she could not avoid injury forever. Why did Dongmei do nothing?
"Mei!" she called, running forward, skirt still pulled high. Her sister started in the corner of her vision, but Jingfei's attention was all on her daughter, who whirled, clearly shocked to see her. Immediately she bounded over, the black-and-white creature giving chase.
"Mama!" Mei cried, skidding to a stop in front of her. She flushed, dropping into a bow. "I mean – honored mother, I—"
"Stay back, Mei." Jingfei pulled her daughter behind her, putting herself in between Mei and the creature. Now she could see that it was one of the great pandas, if a tiny one, but obviously vicious if it harassed a human. "Back!" she shouted, throwing her arms up to make herself seem larger. She glanced around, warily keeping an eye out for its mother; surely for such a small cub, she would be close by… The panda stopped in front of her, appearing confused. It tried to run around her, clearly still attempting to get to Mei. "I said back!" Jingfei shouted again, stepping forward aggressively and waving her arms. The panda jerked away, lowering its head. It growled, showing its teeth, fur rising along its back.
"Xiao Mei, how awful!" Mei suddenly raced out from behind Jingfei to approach the wild animal.
"Don't—" Jingfei reached to grab her daughter, but Mei was crouching down, raising one finger in a scolding gesture.
"Do not growl at my mother!" she said before Jingfei grabbed her shoulder and pulled her away. "Mama?" she asked, looking confused.
"Mei, that animal is dangerous!" Jingfei managed before a new voice interrupted her.
"Forgive me, sister, but she is not."
"Aunt!" Mei blurted.
"Dongmei," Jingfei warned as her sister walked toward the animal. She knelt, holding out her hand, and the panda tamely jumped onto it; Dongmei then rose and gave Jingfei one of her looks, a single eyebrow raised in question. For once Jingfei felt it warranted, since she was staring at her sister, dumbfounded. "How…?"
"Sister, may I introduce Xiao Mei?" Dongmei said without a trace of irony. "She is the companion of Her Highness." She gave Mei a look Jingfei couldn't interpret, and Mei beamed, waves of gratitude rolling off her.
Jingfei stared down at her daughter and then up at her sister. "But it was attacking you," she said, still trying to make sense of a nonsensical situation.
"No, Mama, we were practicing!" Mei explained eagerly. The panda, sitting in Dongmei's hand, moved its head in something very like a nod before jumping down to Mei's shoulder. Jingfei started, but Mei simply smiled and reached up to pet the panda's fur. It hummed contentedly.
Jingfei sighed, rubbing at her eyes. "I think the three of us need to have a long discussion."
"The four of us," Dongmei corrected, an almost imperceptible smirk curling the corner of her mouth.
"I suppose it was too much to hope that she wouldn't have changed in a year," Jingfei murmured to her sister wistfully. Mei was demonstrating some of the techniques she had been learning from Mistress Qiaolian, the panda – Xiao Mei, she told herself firmly – bouncing around her helpfully.
"She has grown more than I expected," Dongmei replied simply.
Mei ducked to avoid a kick to her head; Jingfei wondered how the tiny pa—Xiao Mei could leap so high. She felt Dongmei's eyes on her and looked over at her. "What?"
"I ought to have told you long before this," Dongmei said, lowering her eyes. "Her Highness is your daughter." She jerked her head upright in surprise when Jingfei laughed.
"Had you written of this to me, the whole court would have known as soon as I did," Jingfei said by way of explanation, still chuckling. "I think it will be beneficial for Mei to have a trick or two up her sleeve when His Majesty sees her again."
Dongmei's breath caught. "That is why you returned? To take her to the capital city?"
"I returned to see my daughter." Jingfei couldn't quite keep the steel edge out of her voice. It had taken weeks of maneuvering to get the Son of Heaven even to consider letting her leave the capital. He did not expect her to return for months yet, and she didn't mean to do so for as long as she could help it. After a moment, though, she sighed. "The emperor does wish her to visit before her next birthday. But I want to keep her from the court as long as I can." Mei had only been to the capital city once before, as a toddler, and even then she had been in much greater danger than she was in the countryside of their clan.
"You underestimate her, sister," Dongmei said softly.
"I am surprised to see how much Mistress Qiaolian has taught her in so few months," Jingfei agreed, but her sister shook her head.
"Her Highness has grown in more than just alkahestry, sister. I did not think it a good idea at first, but I believe Xiao Mei has helped her at least as much as her lessons have."
"Perhaps we should have let her have a pet long ago."
Dongmei smiled. "That panda cub means more to Her Highness than an ordinary pet. I don't know how the alkahestrists realized it so quickly, but she has come to think of Xiao Mei as a sister. And, strange as it may sound, I think Xiao Mei feels the same."
"It is good to have a sister," Jingfei said, and leaned over to hug hers. "I missed my daughter terribly, but I am glad to see you again as well, little sister."
Dongmei returned the embrace. "We have missed you." She tugged on one of Jingfei's braids the same way she'd done since they were tiny girls. "I believe Her Highness feared that you would not return – and, worse, that she would disappoint you if ever you did."
"You spoil her, little sister," Jingfei said as they released each other. "But I will let my daughter know that she has never disappointed me." She eyed Mei as girl and panda bowed to each other and turned to the adults with identical wide grins. "Even if she has adopted a scrawny wild animal into the clan. It really goes around with her everywhere?"
The corners of Dongmei's eyes crinkled. "Sister, you have no idea."
THE END
More notes:
-I am not an expert on Chinese (or Xingese, for that matter) cultureby any means. I greatly apologize for any errors in my research.
-kuaizi - more commonly known in the West as 'chopsticks'
-The titles Mei writes are those of the Chinese emperor. Niu calling Jingfei 'mother' is a reference to one of the titles of the Chinese empress, "mother of the nation".
-Yes, Mei is using the names of other clans to insult Xiao Mei.
-Pandas actually like to swim; Xiao Mei is just being contrary.
-"The Legend of the White Snake" is a very famous Chinese myth that I think would appeal to Mei Chan. Check it out on wikipedia.