Chapter Sixteen: Good Evening, Gentlemen

"…and then, whoosh! The Scarlet Robe swooped down upon the raiders, igniting them with her blazing tail!"

Jieru flourished a stick on which he had fastened a paper model of the iconic Gongmen City protector.

"They fled in fear, never again to return!" Armies of bandits waltzed off-screen, controlled by his white-feathered grip.

"With the attackers vanquished, The Scarlet Robe retreated to the dark, never to be seen again. That is, of course, until the next threat to Gongmen City emerges…"

Excited, Jieru brought forth a cutout of the Gongmen City skyline, hoping that it would impress his maid, Jingfei.

"Oh, wonderful!" she crowed, batting her coal-black wings together, "well done, Shen Jieru."

"Did you like it? Did you really?"

"It was highly enjoyable. I especially liked your narration!"

Jieru flashed a beaky grin from behind the makeshift screen, and shuttered the lantern in his room. Jingfei opened a window, and morning light spewed in like a firework blast.

"And the puppets?" Jieru said, wincing and shielding his sensitive eyes from the bright light.

"Very well designed. Although, the accuracy of your tale is in doubt. I don't recall The Scarlet Robe having fire powers."

"Oh," Jieru said, surprised at her knowledge of the legend, "…and what powers did it have?"

"Well, for starters, the Scarlet Robe is merely a robe. Borne of betrayal and demon-fire, but nothing more than a bit of fabric at heart. It is the wielder of that Robe that gains its might. Since peacocks don't fly, fireworks are concealed in the sleeves to help—" she stopped herself abruptly, then glanced around the room with a peculiar expression. Jieru waited for her to continue.

"My, how the sun rises!" Jingfei said, looking to the palace outside.

"Instruction time approaches. Have you finished your studies for today?"

"Aw, do I have to? I want to keep practicing so I can show my parents."

"Now that's a thought!" Jingfei cackled with a restrained laugh. When Jieru kept waiting for an answer, she snapped her grey beak shut.

"...Oh, you meant it. I'm sorry Jieru, but your parents are terribly busy and have no time for such things. And nor do you."

"But I want to do this," he said.

"A a! No buts! Now lay this topic to rest."

"Why do I never get to do what I want?" Beak pouting, Jieru hung his shoulders and futzed with the edge of the silk screen.

"Oh, Jieru," the sweet Jingfei said, keen to the small white peacock's dejection. She waved a wing.

"You can always perform for me. I see how much this means to you, no matter the greater importance."

Jieru smiled. The motherly peahen's pipping and crooning always soothed him, and he was grateful that she cared. Even still, he couldn't shake that trapped feeling, like he was herded into a destiny which he had no say in. Maybe there was some way he could change that. Take control. Outside, a yawning sky shepherded away the stars. In the growing light, he set to his color identification work, struggling, but progressing. All the while, his mind was elsewhere—outside of the palace, searching in the endless world beyond those boring, predictable walls.

Through smoke and sparks, Jieru coughed in thick smog, dragged by a thin white wingtip. Rubbing his sore bicep, he looked all around, in awe of the red and fiery atmosphere. Rickety wood creaked below him and his father's bird-like footsteps. The unstable boards of the walkway protested. His father's ocean blue robe draped over the edge, looking more rusty in the steely cast of the Fireworks Factory's molten interior. Jieru felt safe here, despite the dangerous surroundings. Dozens of antelope guards patrolled the building, securing the valuable products inside from any potential thievery.

"Keep up Jieru, or must I carry you?" Lin said, leading the small white peacock around a vat of churning magma.

"I am not a child anymore," Jieru said, taking the opportunity to unfurl his new tail feathers. Patterned pink circles and arrows started to encroach on his previously pure whiteness, to both his—and his parents'—surprise. "A pigment might be developing after all," his mother had said. Jieru was twelve, and he knew he was still a child, but at least less of one. Nonetheless, he was intensely proud of his tail, and showed it off at every occasion.

Lin stopped to watch him with an gem-like eye, and released his grip. Smirking, Jieru tucked his wings in his beautifully red-trimmed robe, trying to emulate the regality of his father. As he did, an ember from the molten metal bounced off a tail feather, singeing it.

"Ahh! My tail!" Jieru said, gripping the burnt stalk with dismay.

"Be careful," Lin snatched Jieru away from the crucible.

"Why must you worry me so? Trouble in school, trouble sneaking off, always trouble."

Jieru felt guilty for making his father worry. Everything he did seemed to break some rule.

"I just want to do things my way sometimes," he said.

"Care to stay within the bounds of our customs. Cherry Blossom, I've been disappointed as of late. You're trying to be this... this troublemaker, and you know you don't have to be. You're smart, and capable. Even with your disability."

Jieru looked to his father's eyes, unsure if he should be comforted or not. The world couldn't simply be wrongs and rights, or reds and blues.

The Lord of Gongmen led the young Jieru through the factory, taking each moment to explain anything, everything, no matter how trivial. The function of a conveyor; the contents of a barrel; some a rope or pulley's purpose. Jieru drank in the information—anything his colorblind eyes could easily understand. He especially loved the breezy veranda at the top of the carvenous building. The back wall had been opened to ventilate the fumes, beyond which sickly red light spilled over the surrounding scree. Far to the southeast, the majestic Tower of the Sacred Flame stood defiant amid the black sea, mist and unyielding stone. A reminder of the Peacock's majesty and might.

Here, the three ingredients of gunpowder came together—saltpeter, charcoal and sulfur. Jieru watched as ducks and pigs carefully measured bamboo tubes of the chemicals, overseen by more antelope guards. The only light came from the glowing floorboards under the birds' knobby, clawed feet. Lin explained how candles and lanterns were forbidden near such volatile instruments.

Jieru inquired as to why gunpowder was made at the top of the building. Lin explained that if there were to be an explosion—and the royal peacock was proud to point out hadn't happened in a hundred years—it would only damage the top of the structure.

"Why not make the gunpowder in a different building?" Jieru asked.

"All stages of the firework must occur here. It is tradition," Lin scoffed.

Jieru raised the corner of his beak, but didn't pursue it. Traditions are dumb.

He watched the other species intent on their work, and wondered what it must be like, doing the same tedious task every day.

"Why do those other species have to work so hard?"

"Simply put, some are born with privilege, and others without."

"And we were?"

"Indeed. Take care that you do not besmirch it."

"So, all of them," Jieru watched as a bunny sifted fresh black powder into a small barrel.

"They will never be like us."

"It is improbable, but still possible. An important distinction."

"But they aren't peacocks. They weren't born royalty."

"Peacocks weren't always royalty, you know," Lin said with a raised brow, "in any case, we owe much to them. Without them, we rule nothing. Remember this, my son: be kind to your subjects."

Jieru pondered the thought. The two birds made their way to the stairs, but just then, a throat cleared behind them.

"My Lord," an unpleasant voice invaded the loft, clinging to the air like particles of smoke. Lin stopped and gave his son an irritated expression.

"Guan Fo!" he said, adopting a false smile, "what brings you here, to my factory, this evening?"

The voice belonged to a potbellied pig of short stature, hung thick in gaudy fabric, and capped in a ridiculous-looking hat. A hat so tall between his dish-like ears that Jieru nearly laughed.

"The Trade Authority eagerly awaits your treasury report for this quarter," the pig said. The round thing patted his belly, which sent a pouch at his waist a-jiggling. Jieru stared at it as it swung leaden with coins.

"Ah, must've slipped my mind. I'll rectify that as soon as reasonably possible," Lin said, puffing himself up a bit. He glanced at Jieru, motioning his head to the scene as if to say 'pay attention.'

"I hope you do," Guan Fo said, "your fireworks—mind you, your sole export—may not eclipse the Trade Authority's multitudes in a few years time."

He leaned his head forward, and Jieru feared his tower-like hat would topple.

Lin narrowed his shrouded eyes like glazed pottery.

"Quite so. Now, if you will excuse yourself, I trust you can find the way out? If not, I know a quicker way down."

The Lord glanced to the open wall, which led to a long, tall, five story drop to the jagged rocks below. Outside, the half-moon hugged the sea, watching them banter from the comfort of the stars.

Jieru was in awe of his fathers cunning language and diction. When the bird spoke, it was like a cloak covered the air, spun from the most venomous spider's silk. He wondered how his father had become so bold.

The pig glanced to the moon and back, said "I see…" and shuffled for the stairs beside the two peacocks. He appeared to be almost white, like Jieru's own plumage was. As the young one watched the pig stride past—coin purse clinking—Jieru pretended to stumble onto the pig's foot.

Guan Fo's face went taut like a drum.

"Ah! Sorry! Sorry my Lord!" he said, backing up against the wall. After a strained laugh, he sprinted down the steps as fast as his short hooves could carry him, knocking a barrel over in the process. Tiny metal circles spilled from the container, tinkling like ice as they rained down the stairs. Jieru rose, picking one up in his slender feathers, noting the delicacy of the teeth on the small gear.

"What was that about?" his father asked.

"I thought I might frighten him too," Jieru said, tucking the gear into his sleeve with deception.

"I'm impressed, Jieru," Lin said, "for that was the final part of my lesson. Be kind to your subjects, and strike fear in your opponents."

Strike fear in your opponents. Jieru liked the power behind that phrase.

"Keep doing well, and you might yet overcome your unfortunate disability."

He smiled at his father's approval, stymied as it may be. None the matter. He also smiled because, hidden in his sleeve, was a pouch of gold coins—which he desperately tried to keep from clinking together.

"Hahhhhh!" Came the impressive bellow from deep beneath the palace. Jieru watched through wood slats, as he oftentimes did, while a sage-feathered peacock swung and sliced the air. Not just any peacock, but none other than his school instructor, Huang Sho. Rosy light from the clustered paper lanterns glinted off of the old bird's round spectacles and the blade of his peculiar wavy spear. Each motion was distinct, practiced and true. So much more precise than the street fighters Jieru had grown accustomed to.

Resting for a moment, the surprisingly talented Huang Sho hung his weapon on a rack. Next, he met the tips of his feathers together on their respective wings, assuming a calm, cross-legged stance in the center of the platform. Water flowed peacefully around the landing, trickling from grates interspersed throughout the chamber. His wings spilled out of his bright red robe, mirroring the alien waterfalls. The young Jieru sighed; still curious, but not curious enough to confront his volatile teacher about his apparent secret. Though he longed to learn Kung Fu, he was too afraid to try. Trouble was something he wished to avoid.

Retreating into the dark, Jieru adjusted his crimson servant's robe: his preferred disguise. As he navigated the slimy tunnels, he manipulated the items he had brought with him—the bag of coins, the small gear, and, of course, his favorite metal box. He spun the box in his feathers, careful not to drop it into the smelly water washing by. Before long, light shone from a grate in the tunnel's ceiling. One by one, he climbed up slippery rungs, shoved a heavy grate aside, and entered a moonlit courtyard.

Abandoned and empty, this side of town was eerie, but nowhere near as scary as the many-peopled streets in the city proper. As always, Jieru looked to the curling tree that burst from that familiar old well. Now, it appeared, a cherry tree, as each time he visited, more and more pink blossoms dotted the branches. They were sparse, but too fragrant to be anything else. Taking a breath of the sweet smelling flowers, he smiled, glad to be free once again.

"Jieru! Oh, good, you're here!" A small wolf skidded on the cobblestones from a nearby alleyway, holding a small cloth pouch.

Jieru's smile widened.

Zun.

The wolf approached the well and set his paw on the mossy stones to catch his breath. Jieru greeted the wolf, and pulled his metal box from the folds of his robe.

"Do any of these fit?" Zun poured the contents of the pouch on the ground, watching as dozens of metal components attempted to bounce away on the dusty bricks.

"Woah, look at all this!" Jieru sifted through the pieces, finding springs, pins, rivets and brackets.

"Where did you find them?"

"Stole 'em from a couple'a pigs," Zun said, rubbing his ear. They shared a laugh.

"Oh, that reminds me," Jieru reached in his sleeve and produced the pouch of gold he had stolen from the snobby Guan Fo.

"Wow, thanks! This'll help a lot—that's if dad doesn't spend it all on spirits again." Zun tucked the pouch into the pit of his wrapped-fabric shirt.

"You're so lucky," Zun said, "I never find anything but bits of scrap metal."

"Well, I do live in an affluent part of town," Jieru said.

"You and those big words again."

Zun smiled with those bright red eyes of his, and Jieru felt his face flush a little. A weird feeling. Zun went back to sifting through the scraps.

Next, Jieru produced his box, and located the empty spot in the mechanism. After a few minutes of trying different components, still, nothing seemed to work. Some were too thick, some were too round, and most were simply the wrong shape.

"None," Zun said.

"It's no use."

Jieru huffed and fit his wings in the coarse red sleeves of his robe, ready to give up. He wrung his feathers in the fabric and felt the gear he had taken from his parents' factory. Inspired, he brought it forward, and fit it into the box. It didn't fit either, but it was closer than the others so far.

"This might be what we need," Jieru said, holding the wafer-thin object up to Zun's nose, "I know where to find more of these."

"Great, where?"

Before Jieru could reply, approaching shouts drifted into the courtyard.

"Oh no," Zun said, dropping to all-fours.

"What?"

"The pigs!" Zun pointed to the alley to reveal bright lamplight trickling from the corridor.

"Let's go!" Jieru said, whipping his tail around, which produced a satisfying fan-like sound.

"Wait! 'Let's go' where!"

They trotted through alleys, halls, porches, and storefronts, avoiding all manner of creatures, who were still up at the late hour. Zun had no trouble keeping up, as he was a nimble-footed navigator who knew the city well. Jieru kept smacking his tail on wood supports and stone corners, but was getting better at minding it. A goat shook its hoofed fist at them when they leapt over a cart full of produce. Zun had a juicy peach in his mouth when Jieru looked back.

Before long, cramped streets gave way to a boulder-dotted clearing. Stone foundations stamped the coarse soil. It was the city's limit. Braking, Jieru swung his wing to catch Zun as he ran past.

"Woah!" Zun said, teetering on the edge of a flat-topped foundation. The wolf caught himself and ran a paw through his mohawk. Jieru felt his blood pumping, but didn't struggle for breath like his friend did. Further along the massive stone—down across a forking stream—sat his destination.

"Thanks for the workout," Zun said, putting his paws on his knees, "where are you taking me, anyway?"

Jieru took his wingtip and fit it under the wolf's scraggly chin. He directed his vision toward the spiky, smoky, red-lit Fireworks Factory.

"Woah… the Fireworks Factory… I've never been this close before."

"Would you like to get closer?" Jieru said with a smirk.

"What?" Zun shook his head, causing his pointy ears to flop, "no way! No one goes in there, that factory is owned by the Shen family! There's way too many guards."

"You will have to trust me," Jieru said, crouching, ready to slide down the stone.

"I do," Zun said, following Jieru with dogged loyalty.

The two picked their way across the crumbly escarpment, causing rocks to come loose as they carried on.

"Why don't you just fly us in there? You're a bird, right?"

"Peacocks don't fly," Jieru said, shushing the noisy wolf. They peeked over a steep edge. Below them, fanning lanternlight striped the ground like the bars of a cruel prison. The walls of the factory—vertical ramparts of wood and plaster—were impossible to scale. The only entrance was a gaping double-doorway on the south end. Two antelopes stood guarding it, leaned lazy on their spears. They stretched as another pair of guards came to replace them.

"Night, Ju," one said.

"Bah, it's hardly a night if I spend it here," a newcomer replied. The rest murmured their agreement.

"Why the factory?" Zun said, looking toward Jieru for guidance. Strange, it was, having someone look to him for direction. The peacock held up the small gear, tilting it as it caught the red light.

"In there, there are barrels full of these. One has to work in the box," he said.

"If you say so. Let's go!"

Jieru had to catch Zun by his trousers before he fell into the light.

"Still yourself! The guards will surely see," he said, "we can't just walk through the front door,"

"Can't you? You're a peacock. Rich, fancy, prissy. You know, royal."

"That won't help. I'm too recognizable."

"What, are you important or something?"

"Shhh!" Jieru pierced his gaze into the wolf's.

"There are things I cannot tell you. For both of our sakes."

"Fine," Zun eyed him back, and the secrets that Jieru kept begun to weigh him down.

"Bringing you here was a mistake," Jieru said, "we should leave."

"Nah," Zun said, "finding out what that box does is important to you."

The wolf put a soft paw-pad on his bony shoulder.

"And I'll be damned if it ain't important to me too."

Confidence flowed into Jieru as he watched the stars in his furry friend's eyes. Mind made up, he hardened his expression in an attempt to stop his joy from bursting through.

"Alright then. Follow me."

The pair found themselves with their backs to the factory walls. Jieru peered around a corner, and saw a wooden cart approaching. The doors of the factory opened. Light pooled on the dirt ground, revealing more antelopes guiding in a shipment. The guards began listing off the barrels' contents as another checked off a list.

"Now!" Jieru said, darting up into the rear of the cart, Zun right behind. They hid between the barrels, trying their best to be as flat as possible. Both squished uncomfortably close to one another in a tangle of fur and feathers.

"This is familiar," Zun said, and they tried not to chuckle as the cart entered the building. The sounds of the factory rang harsh on Jieru's ears: clangs of metal, wooden gears and cloth conveyors. He felt the cart come to a stop, and hopped off, yanking the wolf's forelimb with a swift wing. They soon found themselves in a secluded storage area, surrounded on all sides by stacked barrels. Red light fell in patches on his canine friend's triangular head, and Jieru noticed something he had missed before.

"Zun, your eye," he said, bringing his feathers up to the wolf's face. The wolf's left eye was swollen slightly. A dark hue splotched under the thin fur on his face.

Zun shied away form Jieru's touch.

"Oh, heh. It's nothing. Just a little gift from Kang back at the wolf camp."

"Kang again," Jieru cursed.

"That treacherous dog. I loathe those who bully. If I ever have the chance, I'd… I'd…" He had trouble subduing his rage.

"You'd beat him up?" Zun said.

"Yeah. That."

"You wouldn't last long against Kang, unless you ask Huang Sho to finally teach you Kung Fu."

"I know, it's only that… Truthfully, I am fearful of him. He makes me feel worthless."

"Then beat him up."

"What? That's ridiculous. Beat him up? But he is so old, and wise, and strong."

Zun just smiled and raised his bony brow. Jieru saw what the wolf was getting at.

"Perhaps I'll confront him," he said, less than confident. Glancing about, he assessed the barrels in the small storeroom.

"No more wasting time. Get to it," he said to Zun, who obeyed.

Being a leader felt strange. He could give commands, and they would be followed. Zun pulled off the top of a wooden barrel, finding nothing but white powder inside.

"Saltpeter," Jieru said, "next one."

After a few minutes of checking barrels, they failed to find any gears.

"Keep searching!" Jieru said, getting a little too into his new role. Zun giggled at his commanding tone. Finally, Zun opened a barrel to reveal a mass of small gears, spiky like a bramble.

"How about this one?" Zun handed Jieru a gear.

"This might work!" Readying the box, he prepared to fit the gear into its proper place.

Their voices must've risen too loud, because when he looked to the doorway, he saw an antelope guard slowly approaching the storeroom.

"Zun! We must leave at once," he said, pocketing his treasures.

"What? What's wrong?" Zun said, dusting charcoal from his snout.

"Who's there?" the guard shouted, inching closer, baring his spear.

"Make haste!" Jieru scampered up the tower of barrels and helped Zun after him. Once on the next level, they made frantic footfalls on the rickety bamboo skywalks. Antelope guards dispersed like an agitated anthill on the ground floor. Caught in the middle of a raised walkway, smoke cleared, and they became visible from ground level.

"A wolf!" A guard called.

"Intruders! Don't let them get away!"

"They're making for the top!"

This is bad, this is bad, Jieru thought, resolve failing.

"Jieru!" Zun shouted, centering the peacock in the moment once more.

The two ran and sped up the levels, nearly slipping at points, dodging guards who closely tailed them. Smoke and steam hid them, and they took a moment to catch their breath within the sulfuric fumes.

"That's the only exit," Jieru said, pointing with a feather to the door down below. His mind raced with problems and solutions. Thoughts were as fleeting as dragonflies.

Zun crouched on all fours, angling his ears to a nearby stairway. "The guards!"

Bamboo rattled and antelope hooves clopped closer. Jieru felt his wings clench. He felt fearful. Scared.

Zun's eyes pierced the smoke and fright: oases in a desert of trouble. Jieru took a steadying breath.

Zun was there. Zun needed him. So, he decided to relax his wings. Same with the rest of his body.

"Strange," Jieru said. Zun questioned him with a whine.

The fear, the danger, the thrill, the adrenaline. He could use those.

Strike fear in your opponents.

"I know what to do. Follow me," he said with a gentle composure.

Using the supporting bamboo poles, he struggled to hoist himself up. Zun followed without trouble, as he was strong and agile. Up they went, climbing without walkways, until they found themselves on a wooden platform. Jieru knew that one last stairway led to the top floor; the floor where black powder was concocted. He unfurled the sleeves of his red servant's robe, and flipped on the dull red hood.

"Alright, Zun. This is what I need you to do…" he explained his plan. Alone now, he watched Zun's bushy tail recede into the shadows amongst barrels of fresh black powder, ready for export.

Measured, slow, and deliberate, Jieru began his jaunt for the upward-leading stairway. Wings tucked in his sleeves, head low, his footsteps loud, he emulated the movements of his father, sure to keep his face hidden deep within the robe's hood. On the landing above was his destination: the massive open windows of the back wall. Without looking, he heard workers on both sides of him, diligently measuring their ingredients. Rushing powders slowed to a stop, and Jieru was delighted to know his distraction was working. He just hoped that Zun had found the barrels he had asked for, and that the wolf had snuck behind the workers unnoticed.

At the open wall, Jieru ignored the height, and pivoted round. He glanced to the floor and was relieved to see lines of black powder on the ground, sparkling like diamonds in the last of the dying moonlight. Zun had coated the wood floor with criss-crossing rivulets of the volatile stuff, just as he had asked. Without further delay, he dropped his metal box on the ground, readied the gear in his other claw, and waited.

Right on cue, the guards loud chase led them up the stairs. They filed in and cleared the room. Each one readied their spears, forming a menacing, spiky arc. Wary on dainty hooves, they approached.

Jieru pondered the odds. Him—a small, weak, colorblind peacock—against a dozen trained soldiers. A cold smile graced his beak.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Shen said, adopting the same deep—regal—elegant—perfect voice that his father used. Whispers spread throughout the guards, and Shen could feel the fear in their shaking weapons. He thought of the legend he knew—a robed demon, sinister and cunning in its deranged work. The Scarlet Robe. It was a tale frightening to children; and so, it seemed, to adults as well.

A guard stepped forward with false defiance.

"Show yourself! D-demon!" The antelope's eyes flashed behind his bared spear.

"Revealed at last, am I?" Shen said.

"I shall not waste our time. I give you two choices. You can run, or I can kill you one by one."

With the gear clutched in a claw, he struck the metal box at his feet. In a swift, swiping motion, he cast a rain of sparks on a line of black powder below him. After a brief smoldering moment, Jieru feared his plan would fail. Then, the smolder grew to a blaze, and powder ignited in fiery channels. Each river ignited at an insane clip, like a dangerous, unstable fuse spewing miniature fireballs every which way. An intense crackling dominated the air, which captivated Shen like dark music. His eyes stung in the noxious fumes, but he forced them to stay open, intent on the cowering crowd in front of him.

"So," Shen brushed a bit of soot from his robe, and flicked it from his feathers. Quick as he could, he unfurled his arcing tail, which sent a blast of smoke toward the antelopes.

"Any volunteers?"

The guards cast down their spears, and tripped over one another in their vie to escape. Jieru watched their panic and listened to their screams, wondering if he had gone too far. Still, the disconcerting notion did little to dampen the elation at his success. Smug, he smiled in a beaky grin, and bent over to hide his tokens away once again.

"That was… that was…" a meek voice behind Jieru caused him to turn and face the wolf Zun, who peeked over the windowsill from a ledge outside.

"Amazing," Zun breathed. Jieru had never seen his red eyes so wide.

"I could not have done it without you," Jieru said. He took a shallow breath, and stared into those wide, wild eyes.

Just then, Jieru heard a familiar sizzle beside him. Some of the sparks had landed atop a barrel of black powder. It was one of a near dozen packed next to it.

"One barrel! I said one barrel!" Jieru screamed.

"I thought it would be smart to have a few extra," Zun said.

"Move!" The barrel started to ignite, and fiery light poured into the room.

"There! The window! We gotta jump," Zun cried. He was right. The only way out was the window.

"But peacocks don't fly!" Jieru said.

Zun covered his face with his paws.

Peacocks don't fly, Jieru thought. He had to try. For Zun.

Wasting no time, Jieru took a few hopping steps. He slammed Zun through the window. They embraced one another and fell into the cold night. With one last look, Jieru saw the ground below: a deadly five-story fall. The peacock squeezed his eyes shut, and unfurled his tail. He braced for the worst. All of a sudden, wind filled his semicircular tail like a sail. Their rate of descent decreased, and he cautiously opened his eyes.

Boom. Rocks on the hillside cast slender shadows. A bright cascade spread over the surrounding ground. It was like a drawn-out lightning flash. Heat eminated behind them, and an ear-splitting crack rent the calm air. A concussive shockwave further propelled the two. Sand on the ground rose skyward, like dry geysers in a long-forgotten desert.

Though he had lift, Jieru had no idea how to control his haphazard flight. Panicked as the ground raced closer, Jieru loosed a desperate call and aimed for a slope. The wolf and the peacock tumbled down, head over heel, wing over paw, beak over snout. Bruised and battered, but graciously alive. Zun came to rest on top of Jieru with a hollow thump.

"You flew," Zun said in calm surprise.

The two watched each other's faces. After a few seconds, Jieru couldn't help but smile at the flabbergasted expression of his dear wolf companion. His smile made Zun smile, and soon their smiles became laughter. At the end of it, they were rolled off one another, kicking their heels into the air, belting until they couldn't anymore.

"You did it! You got us out!" Zun wiped a tear from his eye.

"You're right, I did," Jieru said with disbelief, still lain on his back.

Zun let out a weird howling sound, puckering his lips up to the half-gone moon. Dancing light on the side of Zun's face caught Jieru's eye, and when he looked back to the factory, he gasped.

Tiles rained from the structure, and beams stuck out at funny angles. Luckily, only the top of the structure had been damaged in the blast, but the destruction was substantial. Remorse filled him as reality set in.

"The factory," he groaned, "my father is going to kill me."

"Wait," Zun said, surprise filling his voice, "your dad is Lord Shen Lin?"

"No! Ah, you cannot know! It puts you in danger," Jieru said, jumping up.

"That's…" Zun said, hurt flashing in his face, "why didn't you tell me?"

"I…" Jieru hadn't even considered telling Zun. The wolf's reaction concerned him.

"I promise, I will tell you everything," he said, setting a wing on Zun's shoulder, "but now, I need to go."

Zun licked his lips and faced the ground.

"Here, hold onto this until I return. Just so you know I will."

Jieru reached in his sleeve and handed Zun the metal box. Soft pads enveloped it and the wolf held it near his wrapped chest. The peacock gave him one last melancholy look, then sped up the hill. Claws scrabbling on the loose earth, he stopped for a moment, and looked back.

"Until we meet again," he said, not nearly ready to leave—not by a long shot—but he knew that he had to.

Urgency spurred his scratchy grey feet through the dense city of Gongmen. Situated on a bluff, the Aristocratic Quarter cut the rest of the city with a high wall. Jieru skirted the perimeter of the dividing line, careful to avoid the scrambled guards patrolling in the cold night. Worry crept over him as he neared the palace grounds. The explosion must've been heard from leagues around. Word might've even reached his father by now.

Quickly, carefully, he funneled himself down into the Gongmen tunnels—a network he had become familiar with in the last few years. He had no trouble returning through the portal that led into the palace walls. Back against the lichen, he realized he smelled intensely of soot, so he discarded his singed robe into the moat, and took a quick dip himself. Fully soaked, he shook the water from his feathers as best he could. Voices approached as he preened.

Jieru clambered up the trellis, vaulted over the windowsill, and flopped into his bed, safe and sound. He let out a sigh of relief, glad that he made it back in one piece, without rousing suspicion.

"Shen Jieru," a feminine voice stated from across his room.

His heart sank. It was his maid, Jingfei. He hung his head, ready for the inevitable firestorm of punishment.

"Be still. For now, dry yourself, and pretend to be asleep."

Too stunned to speak, he silently followed her directions. The voices outside became louder, and Jingfei made her way out of the door. Curious, Jieru fit his head to a crack in the wood, attenuating his keen sense of hearing to their dialog.

"What of Jieru?" He recognized his father's voice.

"Still asleep," Jingfei said.

"I am so relieved," his mother, Yun, said, "I had feared he might've been involved."

"Nonsense," Lin spoke, "you heard the guards as clear as I. It was a robed bird with a voice of silk, and fire in its eyes."

"Do you suggest The Gu Gui?" Jingfei said, "the demon hasn't manifested since—"

"Since the River Witch imprisoned her in the Robe," Yun said.

"Which was over five hundred years ago," Lin said, "if The Gu Gui has been freed, then we would surely know by now. Whosoever the guards saw is obviously an imposter. But, as a precaution, I have sent Huang Sho to the archway to confirm the Robe is where we left it."

"The Soothsayer said nothing about this," Yun said.

"She is not all-knowing. Still, I shall meet with her in the basement."

"Is it time to reinstate the Order?" Jingfei said.

"That will not be necessary. Watch over Jieru until Huang Sho returns. For now, we must ready the garrison, and fortify…" Jieru's father's voice became faint as he receded. The young bird hopped back into his bed quick as can be, and softly nestled in the cloth. The door to his room opened, and Jingfei came plodding in.

"An unfortunate night to be sneaking around the city," she said, soothing, yet serious. Jieru peaked out from the covers and addressed his maid.

"You knew," he said, "how long?"

"All along. I decided it was important for you to nurture your need for discovery, in spite of the wishes of your father."

Jieru sat up. "So, what now?"

"You cannot hide it from me. I know that look in your eye. Always the same, always the same…" She said, adopting a dreamy expression.

Jieru pried her for an explanation, but Jingfei only giggled.

"The young one grows," she said, nestling back into her chair, "but no matter. You must be tired. Sleep. All will be well tomorrow."

With no recourse, Jieru laid himself down, sleepy indeed. Excitement pulsed through his veins, and he wondered if he could ever find rest. In his feathers, he cradled that crucial gear—a key to him and his friend's long-troubled conundrum. A signifier of their bond. Before long, exhaustion won, and he gave himself over to the realm of dreams. Possibilities danced around him, ripe for him to explore, and to control.

A/N

Writing the young Shen is always lovely. It is exhilarating to explore his growth, to discover how he became the one we get to see in the movie. My tale for him is entwined in a web of secrecy and villainy, but also love and passion. I hope that comes through as best as I try to write it.

As a quick note, Shen has a type of colorblindness known as tritanopia, meaning he can't distinguish yellows from blues. Therefore, the world is only reds and blues to him.

Not only young Shen, but also his loyal wolf companion. The two work so well together, especially as children. Looking forward to exploring their deepening relationship in the next one.

Thank you for reading. Until we meet again.