Cong did as Mantis had asked. He walked on eggshells around his master, not straying in his duties one bit. He still went out to sit on the roof of the hotel for an hour or so every few days, but in everything else, he was as scrupulous as ever. The rest of the gang continued in their usual activities. There was drinking and gambling and all manner of crimes committed, but Cong was a part of none but thieving. And Fu was more pleased than ever about his skills.

To placate Fu, he'd stolen a priceless statue from the museum to cover his earlier days of scoping out a target. It was actually a challenge to get past the extensive security, but it didn't faze Cong at all. And when he placed the statue in front of his master, Fu was so pleased by the take that he gave his slave a large pouch of coins to use as he pleased.

After two weeks, Cong went out to the market in disguise to gather some things for his friends. The simian's peace was as firm as the day he burned the note from Mantis. He wanted to please his friends, so he went shopping for items that they would like. He had a feeling that he should do it now instead of later, and he followed that feeling, just as Oogway taught him.

For Tigress, he looked at some of the most expensive fans, searching with a practiced eye for the most beautiful. He recalled the times he'd spent with the tiger in her trophy room, listening to her enthuse about little details. Because that was Tigress. She saw the big picture, but Shifu had taught her repeatedly to see and appreciate the little things. Their master was the first one to give her a fan, and with the passion that few knew lay hidden beneath her stoic surface, she became an expert in judging fans, and she had taught her friends some of what she knew.

After searching some of the most popular stands, he went to some lesser-known hand painters. It was at a child's stand that he stopped. Cong could see at once the skill possessed by that little girl. She couldn't be more than twelve, and yet her fans were the most delicate, beautiful pieces he'd ever seen. Stopping, he asked her about her technique and paints and brushes as he looked through the offerings. She spoke excitedly about her skill, and Cong listened patiently.

"Could you do a request for me?" he asked.

"Depends on what it is and how much you offer," the rabbit replied shrewdly.

Cong pulled out a handful of gold coins and slid them across the table. The girl's eyes widened at the amount.

"Is this sufficient?"

"Anything you want, good sir," she said breathlessly. "Anything you want."

The simian smiled and described what he wanted. She bowed deeply, writing down each detail. He paused then said. "And I want you to add your passion into this fan, my dear girl. Add bits of yourself because that is how I will know that your art is true."

The girl nodded. "I will try my best to fulfill your order quickly. But this design will take many days."

"I've got time," the monkey assured her. "How does two weeks sound? The order is for Lu Cong."

"That would be fine, good sir."

Cong picked up five more coins and slid it across then turned and left the stand, smiling to himself at the thanks that poured from the little girl. He turned his attention to finding something for Crane. Wandering through the market, his eyes searched the booths. Crane enjoyed literature, and Cong wanted to give him a story that piqued his interest. After a while, he stopped to smell some flowers. An idea occurred to him, and he grinned. Why not write a story himself? Mantis had mentioned that they wanted to know him better, so why not write out some of his adventures?

With Crane covered, for the time being, he considered Viper. Viper was a nobleman's daughter and was used to great privilege. She was still humble in her attitude, thanks in part to her lack of fangs and in part because of Shifu's teaching. Most people would think that it was Viper, not Tigress, who loved fans, but it simply wasn't true. Viper was a gardener and a dancer, with great capabilities in both areas.

A plant would not last in their enclosed base, so Cong searched for ribbons. Viper's old one was tattered and frayed, and while she kept it to remind herself of her own courage and family, she needed a new one that fit her beauty and skill. So he went to a silk vendor and asked the cost for a designed length of silk for a ribbon dancer. He haggled for half an hour before agreeing on the design, but he threw down the coins for the price without a word of protest. Indeed, he gave more than asked then turned and left the open-mouthed duck without a word.

He knew what he would get Po. There was a diner that served the best food in the entire city, and Cong knew that Po would not have found it. It was small and out of the way, and only those who knew the city well knew what it was. Cong's mouth watered at the thought of the food, and if he was this excited, he knew that Po would be enthusiastic to say in the least.

As for Shifu, he had no idea what to give him, so that just left Mantis. Out of all of the Five, Mantis was the one that Cong was closest to. At first, they hadn't liked each other very much. Mantis hadn't liked Cong's humor, and Cong hadn't liked Mantis' blunt manner. There had been a year-long enmity between the two of them before Shifu had lost his patience and literally locked the two of them in a room. After a huge fight, including insults galore, they sat across from each other.

Cong remembered how great his anger was back then. Traces of his upbringing still burst out of him every once in a while, and without Wu Long to balance him out with tea and cookies, the monkey was growing wilder every day. Embroiled in bitter thoughts, Cong fought with himself for over an hour in the tense silence, hatred for Mantis morphing into hatred for himself. After so long of keeping his pain inside, he suddenly realized that he was still trapped in the city. Before he knew what he was doing, Cong spoke.

"You're right to hate me, Mantis."

The little bug, who had been sulking across from him, chirruped in surprise. "I don't hate you, Monkey."

"You don't?"

"No."

Cong looked up. "Why not?"

Mantis moved closer, studying the monkey. "Why should I?"

The simian shook his head. "If you don't hate me, why do you argue with everything I say?"

"Because you joke about everything!" Mantis exclaimed, narrowing his eyes.

Cong could still feel his aching heart as he replied in a soft whisper, "If I didn't joke about everything, I would die on the inside."

Mantis chirped again. "What?"

"I laugh at bad things because if I didn't, I would go crazy," Cong said numbly. "If I couldn't laugh, I would drown inside my own head."

"It's a defense mechanism," Mantis said. Cong nodded, tears in his eyes. "I can understand that." He paused. "I don't mean to be so blunt about everything. Jokes weren't tolerated by my mom. She was very practical. I took after her."

"You're lucky to have known your mother," Cong said. He'd known it was a risk, but Mantis only cleaned his antennae.

"Only had your father, eh?"

"Something like that," Cong replied.

"I only had my mom. She ate my dad's head after they mated."

Cong remembered tittering. "Guess he couldn't get ahead in life."

For a moment, Mantis had stared at him then he'd burst into the merriest laugh that Cong had ever heard. Shifu had found them laughing and chatting when he'd unlocked the door, and there had been no major problems since then.

So out of all of the Five, it was Mantis that Cong was most eager to get him a present. Mantis had led a simple farm life in his village of insects, and he'd retained his simple ways in the Jade Palace. He was a good acupuncturist and a lover of gardens, though he didn't partake in the art form as much as Viper. Still, he had a secret love of painting and kitemaking, and Cong was determined to buy the finest materials for a kite. He went to a different silk vendor, determined to help as many people as possible to make a living.

Cong bought a length of yellow silk then went to a paint vendor and bought the finest paints he could find, paying extra for each item. With that, his shopping for the day was done. Walking back to the base, he found himself whistling. He felt light as a feather as he strolled through the guards and into the base. A soft chirp sounded out as he strolled down the halls, and he pretended not to hear it, echoing it with a chirrup in his whistle.

He went straight to his room and bound up the silk and paints in packages, tying them with a strip of green ribbon. Sitting down, he stretched out. The noise of crinkling parchment made him jump up. Blinking, he peeled back his blanket to find a tiny note. Picking it up, he saw Mantis' scratchy writing.

Be ready tomorrow. Things will happen.

Excitement boiled inside of Cong, but it was mingled with fear. He read the note three times, his stomach tightening, then immediately burned it. He lay down, staring at the ceiling. Things would happen tomorrow. Good or bad? Cong wasn't sure. And he was pretty sure that not even Mantis was sure about what would happen.

Cong tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He needed to pack his things. It was a gut feeling, just as strong as his urge to go to the market. So he surged up and began to gather the few things he wanted to bring with him. All of his belongings fit into a small pack, including the gift for Mantis. Taking a small slip of paper, he scribbled on it, Monkey's belongings, please take, and placed it on the straps. That done, he sat down again.

The monkey took a long look around the room. This had been his original bedroom in his younger days. He had many memories, both good and bad. This place was his reward for a grand theft that had been worth thousands of yuan. And he had only gone up from there. There were parties to remember, celebrations of their success, praise from Fu and others that had fueled his joy back then.

But there were other memories here, bad ones that had shaken Cong to his core. He remembered many nights sleeping off a beating for a wrong word, a wrong action. He remembered being forced to grovel and beg for a scrap of happiness. And there was the worst beating of his life, the one that had finally made him leave his life of thievery behind and run far, far away.

And Fu was at the center of every memory. Cong was conflicted about the croc. The creature was his first master, the one who had taught him obedience under a threatening fist and icy stare. There were moments of tenderness, but Cong knew that they weren't real. He hated knowing that. It had taken years for him to admit that Fu's kindness was false, but the child inside of his heart longed for that same affection. He needed a father figure, and Fu was the only one he had ever known.

Shifu came close, but would his master (former master?) really want him after all of his thefts? Mantis had said we miss you but was Shifu included in that? Cong just wasn't sure. He was afraid of the disappointment of his friends, but he was terrified to see that same feeling in the eyes of Shifu. Could he face Shifu? He didn't know if he could, but at this point, he had no choice. He couldn't run because the Serpents would follow. All he could do was wait. So he settled into his bed and closed his eyes. His thoughts slowed and sleep found him quickly, taking him into sweet darkness to await his fate.