BOC AU: Elder, But Younger Sister, Part 3

This one is flowing really nicely, and im enjoying it.

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“Tomorrow we shall tour the city, and see all that you wish!” father declared, his arms folded, and a wide smile on his face. Their plates were empty, a dinner of dumplings. They had tasted so good. So warm, so full of life, after eating the mash that had to be carefully poured down her throat for three years. It felt nice to actually chew something again!

“I’ll prepare some lunch for us! I got another interesting recipe from the traders at the docks, look forward to it!” Her brother said, his own smile wide. “I finished the latest distillation as well—watermelon!”

“Oho?” Father said, his eyes shining. “I don’t mind if I do!”

“This one is going to be pretty sweet, but it retained the flavour nicely…”

Qingyi smiled as Jin launched into an explanation about what seemed to be alcohol. Father looked excited, so it had to be something amazing.

She just sat back and listened. The conversation washed over her, happy voices in her ears. The lights had the room bathed in a warm glow. The night sky was filed with stars, and Qingyi committed the moment to memory.

A sweet scene, frozen in time.

Qingyi blinked.

The conversation had gone silent. Father was frozen mid laugh, ruffling Jin’s hair. Her brother was grinning back.

The warm light was suddenly cold.

“Yes. Such a sweet scene, my dearest sister.” Bu said, derisive, mocking amusement in his voice.

A seam opened up in reality, and her brother stepped through. His face was twisted into a smile that made Qingyi’s heart hammer in her chest, icy tendrils crawling up her throat.

She tired to get up. She tried to fight, to run to do something—

Stips of parchment, seals, rose up like snakes and grabbed her limbs. Her arms, her legs, her chest.

“Sister, I swore to you that you would know torment until you died.” Bu said conversationally, advancing toward her. 

The room faded away, flaking off like burned parchment and she was back in the hidden realm again.

The grip of the seals tightened, forging her arms back. Needles shoved into her flesh. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t move, she couldn't move—!

Bu’s fingers clasped almost gently around her cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

“Did you think I would fail in that promise?” Bu asked her.

And then the seals wrapped around her mouth too.

His hand reared back, and plunged into her chest. The warmth that she had felt, of her meridians and dantian restores, snuffed out.

All there was was pain. Consciousness, but no ability to act.

She had no mouth, and she could not scream.

“Don’t forget sister. You’re here until you die.”

Qingyi’s entire body seized. She had to move she had to move but she was bound again and she couldn’t—

Something ripped, and her arms were free. She scabbled for something, anything—

A gentle hand captured her own.

“Peace, my daughter. Peace.” Father whispered to her. His face filled her eyes. His presence, his voice, and the warmth in her chest knocked Qingyi back to her senses.

Qingyi came to her senses. Pieces of blanket drifted through the air.

For a moment, there was silence, and Qingyi just panted.

Her father gathered her up in his arms.

“Rest, Qingyi. You are free. None shall imprison you again. Your father swears it.”

Tears spilled from Qingyi’s eyes. Her breath came in hiccuping sobs.

She drifted off to sleep again.

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When she awoke next, it was to the gentle humming of an unfamiliar voice, the sizzling of pans, and the smell of cooking.

Her father’s presence was all around her, warm and comforting. 

She opened her eyes. It was light out. She was still free. 

Qingyi let out a breath. She had a new blanket. There was no trace of the ruined one.

She forced away the lingering feelings of last night, and rose to her feet. There was a dresser with clothes her father had arranged for her, so she changed.

A simple, dark blue robe and pants were her choice—good clothes for meditation and exercise, but she would have to get some nicer clothes soon. She needed a nice coat…maybe she could go shopping with her brother! They could match!

Now that was a good idea.

Speaking of her brother, he had stopped humming, and started singing—and had father joined in too?

“And I saw it through without exemption~”

“I charted every course, each step along the road~”

It was quite annoying to be an initiate again. Everything was so quiet and dull sounding, the colours were muted, and the scents on the breeze were bare whispers. 

She had a lot of work to do.

Clothed and ready for the day, she stepped out of her room and into the house proper. She hadn’t really observed it too closely last night, but it was fairly nice; a walled compound that couldn’t quite be called a manor.

It wasn’t too long until she reached the kitchen, where both father and brother were absolutely belting out a song she had never heard of. It sounded like some manner of oath, or grand proclamation, the climax of the song.

“For what is a man? What is he made of?” Jin’s voice rang out, deep and strong.  Instead of a servant cooking, he was. He tossed an egg in the air, let it roll down the inside of his forearm, then popped it up with his bicep and caught it again. He cracked it into a bowl already filled with eggs, to which he added milk and whisked it vigorously.

“If he is not himself, then he is nothing!” Father declared from his place at a table, staring out into the small courtyard with a single tree. His calligraphy paper was before him, the character for victory bold and brash upon its surface. In his hand was his brush, which he was waving through the air.

Qingyi couldn’t help but smile at the scene—and it was a really good sounding song too! She approved of the message!

“He must say what he feels! Not groveling as he kneels!” brother continued from his place. There were eggs, strips of what looked and smelled like pork, and several fruits and vegetables she didn’t recognise… along with something she did.

Jianbing, drizzled with the sweet sauce she remembered getting… before. There were panfried pork dumplings, congee with apricots… everything she had liked for breakfast, and all of it was made by her brother’s hand.

“The record shows, I received ten thousand blows!” Father boomed and then, both of them joined together.

“And everything was done myyyy waaayyyy!!” Both of them drew it out their arms raised, as if to a crowd. And then Jin transitioned into what sounded like it was supposed to be done with instruments, a wordless accompaniment, grand and soaring.

“Yes, everything was done my way~” they finished.

Qingyi started clapping. Father and brother took mock bows.

“Ah! I shall have to commission the finest musicians to accompany that song!” Father declared. Her brother just chuckled.

“Mornin’ sis!” Jin said addressing her with a warm smile. “Take a load off, brekkie will be done in a few!”

His voice was thick with an inner city accent, crass and amusing sounding, but Qingyi took his advice in stride, settling at the table.

“What song was that?” she asked. “The poets have been working hard to make such a thing!”’

“It was indeed composed by a fine poet, and you look upon him! ! It comes from your brother!” Father said, his eyes on her, and full of warmth.

“Really?” Qingyi asked, delighted. Her brother had many depths it seemed! “May I learn?”

From what she had heard, the song.. It described father perfectly.

“Of course!” Brother said, taking pans off the stove and bringing them over to the table. Father came over from his calligraphy and took his seat at the head of the small table. “But I can't take all the credit. I heard it from a guy at the docks, his name was Sina Tu La. Shame I can’t listen to him again, his voice was just….”

Jin trailed off and raised his hand, as if to show just how much better at singing the other man was.

Complements and credit flowed to what was probably a mortal without hesitation. The easy admission that someone was better than him, without any bitterness at all, only regret he couldn’t have appreciated their ability more.

“Now, eat up!” Jin said, placing down her food in front of her and winking. “And be sure to compliment the chef!”

Qingyi chuckled at the blatant fishing for compliments.

The dinner last night had been good, some dumplings from a restaurant, but these were better. Qingyi barely kept the tears from her eyes as the nostalgic flavours hit her tongue.

The food was very, very good. Almost as good as the food the chefs at home used to make, the heavens rest their souls. It was also missing something—ah, it was missing some of the Qi.

The taste of home… but not.

She shook her head. It was unfair to compare them. This was the new taste of home. She would have to remember it.

She finished the food her brother had made for her, but she was still hungry. Her eyes settled on the other food her brother had made.

“What are those?” she asked, looking at the crispy, fried item.

“Fried Potatoes from Yellow Rock Plateau.” he answered, and picked some up to put on her plate to try. “Then this is scrambled egg and cheese on bread, these are fried tomatoes, from the same province…”

It was so different than what she was used to… but it was good.

Qingyi finished breakfast with a sigh of contentment.

“Thank you for breakfast, Son.” Father said.

“Thank you!” Qingyi chorused.

“Anytime. I’ll get these cleaned up.” Jin said, then turned to their father. “You said you needed to work with Little Sister?” 

He flashed her a grin. Qingyi glared at the blatant provocation, right after breakfast.

“Yes. We must ensure her foundation and meridians are still stable. We will be progressing slowly for at least a week, daughter.” Fathers worlds sobered her again.

“I’m ready to begin, father.” Qingyi said. She had to get strong again.

Strong enough that this time… nobody would be able to take away what was hers.

“Then we shall begin. We shall be an hour or so, and then we shall come and find you, son.” Father declared.

“Sure thing, pops.” her brother replied flippantly. Qingyi blinked at the sheer disrespect, but her father’s smile just widened.

“Ah.. right I must...” Father muttered after he watched Jin go to start cleaning the dishes. “Well, it has been three hundred years already. It can wait, at least a week.”

Qingyi looked curiously at her father, but he offered her no explanation. Instead, they travelled into the courtyard, where Qingi assumed the lotus position beneath the boughs of the tree. Her father sat behind her, his hand upon her back.

And for the first time in three years, Shen Qingyi began to cultivate.

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Yes, Jin and Gramps were belting out My Way.

Jin POV next chapter, and everything that hes been doing these past 8 years.