I spend the afternoons writing, not just to record the stories of my childhood, but also my grand adventures across the Five Kingdoms. I write letters, too, keeping in touch with Luobing every few moons or so, though I choose to keep my distance.
Jyn was far too young when I first found her. After the millennia of turmoil she endured, I wanted to give her the chance to live a normal life—to enjoy childhood, adolescence—before we find each other again. Was it selfish of me? I’d argue not. I’m sure she will come and find me once she’s ready. Until then, I will wait. Aslong as I know she’s happy, I can make peace with the distance I’ve placed between us.
One sweltering afternoon, I find myself in my garden watering the vegetables. I’m particularly proud of the succulent wolfberries that I’ve managed to cultivate this year. Once dried, they will make a nice addition to wintertime soups. I’m so engrossed in my garden work that the sudden tug I feel on my little finger takes me by surprise, along with the faint scent of jasmine sweeping in with the breeze.
“Excuse me?” comes a woman’s soft, sweet voice.
I turn to regard the stranger, except she’s no stranger at all. Before me stands a woman so radiant, so beautiful that I’m left without breath. The light green of her robes complements the soft porcelain of her skin, and her long black hair is tied back in a simple, clean braid that trails down the length of her back.
There are enough similarities to know exactly who she is, but there are also many differences that I take great pleasure in studying. From the new shape of her rosebud lips, to the gentle slope of her nose, to the curve of her chin and the height of her sharp cheekbones. She has freckles in this lifetime, a delicate splash of faded color across her forehead and the bridge of her nose.
“I apologize for disturbing you, good sir, but…” Jyn sucks in a sharp breath, picking at her fingernails. “Well, this might sound a bit ridiculous.”
I tilt my head to the side, basking in the light of her bashful smile. It’s a thrill when she finally musters up the courage to look me in the eye.
I can’t help but tease. “Is something wrong? Is there something on my face?”
“What? Oh, um, no.” She swallows hard, anxiously opening and closing her fists. “You’re my mother’s benefactor, are you not?”
“Benefactor?”
“Yes. For as long as I can remember, my family has received a generous sum of coin every moon without fail.” She reaches into the silk purse she has tied around her dainty wrist, pulling out a few pieces of neatly folded parchment. “I have your letters, though you never signed your name.”
“What makes you believe it’s me?”
“Because you have yet to deny it.”
I chuckle. “Is it coin you seek?”
“I’m no beggar, sir.”
“Then, pray tell, what brings you to my humble abode?”
She shifts her weight from foot to foot, clearly flustered. As elated as I am that she has arrived, I don’t wish to see her upset.
“You said it might sound ridiculous?” I prompt gently.
Jyn takes a deep breath. “Ever since I can remember, I have… I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m able to see red threads of fate.”
“Oh. Is that so?”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“No, my mooncake, I would never.”
“Don’t call me—” Jyn pauses, her expression melting into confusion. “Wait… Do I know you?”
“Can I interest you in a pot of tea?” I ask, gesturing to my outdoor kitchen. “I make an excellent brew of Longjing.”
She shakes her head. “No. I mean, yes, thank you, but… Please, what is your name?”
I take a step forward and search her eyes. I wonder how close to the surface the memories of her past life sit. “You know my name, Jyn. Think back. The answer is there.”
She watches me in thinly veiled suspicion but accepts my offerof tea regardless. I’m filled with a giddy excitement as she follows me through my humble garden, taking in the little knickknacks that I’ve collected over the years—everything with her in mind. Scrolls of poetry set out on the porch table, collected in the hopes of sharing them all with Jyn one day. Rare tea leaves that I bartered for so that we may taste them together. My garden is full of delicate blue wildflowers, the very same from our homeland, planted in thick, flourishing bundles so that she might feel more at ease.
I get to work in my small kitchen, bringing water to a boil so that the tea can steep, all the while observing Jyn out of the corner of my eye. She takes a seat at the low porch table and looks around in quiet awe. I can tell she has questions, and I’d be more than happy to indulge her were I not so worried about overwhelming her. Recalling all my past lives in one fell swoop shook me to the core. I’d much rather let Jyn in slowly. There’s no rush now, no threats lurking around the corner. We can finally take our time.
“I’m surprised you’re willing to listen,” she admits. “There are only a few people that I’ve told about the red threads, but they’ve all laughed at me.”
