Ward of Storms

CHAPTER SIX

Sugar sculptures were as elusive as they were desirable, a notion that distracted Rui from necessity shopping. They spent most of the afternoon trudging around the market, and half the time, Rui did not know if she was buying soap or cream rinse. In hindsight, she should have asked Xiutao to come with her so she could have helped in the hygiene department, but the shopwomen eagerly showered her with different products and bright smiles.

Each time, Rui had no clue what people were saying and could only read them through their stares: some outright rude, others more curious or even annoyed. She followed Qilin's lead, but felt excluded from the warmth they displayed with him. They settled on three hanfus she could mix and match, their colors complimentary and sizes adjustable. Her choices were modest, opting for simpler fabrics over the offered finer silks. Something didn't feel right about having someone else own her clothing, but she reluctantly accepted the charity.

They were leaving a shop with a new bag holding everything she owned when she hesitated. Everything she had weighed less than a bag of laundry and wasn't even as big as a backpack. Looking for anything to distract herself from the sad realization, Rui caught a glimpse of a workshop filled with sculptures and entered.

A collection of fine furniture and beautiful craftsmanship welcomed her. Wood must have been in ample supply because the details in each piece were immaculate. Their selection ranged from low tables to detailed figurines of the Buddha, with large and slim bellies, intertwined fingers in meditation, adorning the shelves, each curve polished to perfection.

After studying a particularly lifelike crane, Rui looked up and caught a woman staring back at her. But it wasn't another woman—it was her own reflection in a brass-polished mirror nestled in a deep red rosewood frame intricately carved with lotuses. A stranger stood where her face should have been, with almond-shaped eyes that gleamed a light brown. Rui knew her hair had turned black; she combed it with her fingers this morning, but she hadn't been ready to face herself. A scowl furrowed her brows, and she held her breath, unable to remember the person before, and feeling the loss strike her just as hard.

Qilin touched her shoulder. "Rui," his soft voice tore her away. She smiled at him and then rushed from the shop, continuing with the shadow of the qilin as she fought her emotions down. At least she was beautiful.

Ahead of her, she saw a little girl speaking with a grandmother. The girl giggled as she snuck pieces of sliced muskmelon from her and then suddenly rushed forward, not realizing Rui stood in front. With a thunk, Rui felt the young girl clinging to her legs before looking down at a frightened face. Tears began to well in the side of her eyes.

"It's okay," she tried to calm the child, but big globs of tears released, drowning down her red face. Rui panicked, "No, no, no, it's okay. Your grandmother right there and I'm not angry."

The girl peeled back from her and rushed behind her grandmother. "Sorry," Rui managed, her heart crestfallen. Just then, Qilin's voice hovered in her ear, and just a swiftly, the girl calmed, and the grandmother smiled warmly towards them as he interceded on her behalf. She envied him, his ability to speak to her and to speak to the people around her without so much of a hint he'd been speaking different languages. It was almost as if he spoke to the mind and wasn't speaking either; everyone just understood.

She'd give anything to understand them, and it scared her to be so dependent on him. Even if they were innocently separated, she realized how frightening it would be. "Rui," he called to her with a gentleness that eased her instantly, like a balm over a cut.

She blinked a few times and then smiled to him. "I'm getting tired. That fruit looks good. Can we find something to eat?"

He nodded and led them towards a different part of the market, where they found an Inn with seating. He sat down first and then beckoned to her. A beautiful screen separated the diners, and she traced her eyes over the swirling inks. It took so much craftsmanship to make something so perfect in ink. A servant stopped by their table, and she pointed randomly at an item on the board that she figured was the menu.