Xu Yunlian took one slow, pitying breath, and then she stepped closer and said gently, “Child…woàinimeans ‘I love you.’”
The world stopped.
Poppy’s smile collapsed. Her heart dropped straight through her ribcage. Heat surged up her neck so fast she thought she might combust.
“I-I said… I what?” Her voice cracked.
Xu Yunlian patted her arm with maternal sympathy. “You said it very sweetly. I’m sure it meant a great deal to him.”
Poppy slapped both hands over her face. “Oh no. Oh no.”
Across the courtyard, Mingjun shrieked with laughter as Mingxi tackled him into a snowless bamboo grove.
Xu Yunlian sighed again, serene as a spring breeze. “Welcome to the Shen household, dear.”
The rest of the day unfolded like a warm ribbon. Poppy practiced tying a yaodài until her fingers finally obeyed the pattern. She learned how to pour tea without insulting anyone’s ancestors. She watched Mingzhao spar with a Guardian—silent, precise, terrifyingly graceful—and then bow to her with unexpected respect. She listened to Xu Yunlian tell stories of ancient fox clans as they peeled fruit side by side.
Everywhere she walked, kits followed her. Everywhere she turned, she found warmth. By evening, the Shen family gathered for dinner. The table was chaotic, but comfortably so, loud in all the right ways. Minghua insisted on sitting between Poppy and Mingxi until Xu Yunlian made her switch seats. Mingjun smirked the entire time. Mingzhao asked Poppy questions with a level of sincerity that left her breathless. Xu Yunlian placed food on her plate with gentle insistence.
When Mingxi quietly slid a bowl of Poppy’s favorite porridge toward her, arranged neatly and thoughtfully, she looked up and caught the faint softening in his eyes. Somewhere inside, something settled.
Something that had been trembling for nineteen years.
The courtyard lanterns glowed softly as evening settled over the Shen estate. The family had drifted off after dinner, leaving the air warm with the scent of jasmine tea and the faint crackle of foxfire somewhere near the gardens.
Poppy lingered beside the low tea table, twisting her fingers nervously in her skirt before finally gathering the courage to approach Minghua, who was folding embroidered cloths.
“Um, Minghua?” Poppy said hesitantly. “May I… ask something of you?”
Minghua’s expression brightened immediately. “Of course, Poppy.”
Poppy took a breath. “I feel terrible that all of you have been speaking English for me. Even your elders. I’d… like to learn a few things. How to introduce myself properly. And how to be respectful.”
Minghua froze for a heartbeat and then beamed with genuine joy. “You want to learn Mandarin?”
Poppy nodded, cheeks warm. “If you’d teach me.”
“I would love to.” Minghua took Poppy’s hand, gently tugging her toward the bench. “We’ll start simple.”
Before they could sit, footsteps thudded loudly across the flagstones. Mingjun appeared, cheeks full of stolen buns.
“What are we learning?” he demanded, already grinning.
“Manners,” Minghua said primly. “Poppy wants to learn proper Mandarin.”
“Oh,” Mingjun breathed. “This is going to be incredible.”
Minghua ignored him and turned to Poppy with big-sister earnestness.
“Okay. The easiest introduction iswojiao. It means ‘I am called.’ You say that and then your name.”
“Wo… jiào… Poppy,” Poppy repeated carefully.
“Very good!” Minghua nodded. “Now, Tone is important. Jiào uses a falling tone. It almost sounds like…” She paused, brow furrowed as she rested her chin in her palms. “Like meow but shorter. You know? Jiào. Like a little miao.”
Poppy blinked. “Oh! Okay. Like… meow.”
“Exactly!”
