He stared out the window, trying to silence his rambling thoughts. Dawn cast its peaceful light over the sprawling garden of bamboo and stone behind the house. As a kid, he would hide in the verdant copse, thinking about his mother, wondering if she was thinking of him too. He turned away. What was the point of fixating on the past when his future was about to change?
Sighing, he leaned against the counter, eating to calm his nerves, vacantly musing about how his tongue knew the cereal tasted the same, but his brain insisted the purple-colored puffs were just a tad fruitier and more exciting to eat than the orange-colored ones.
“For crying out loud, use a bowl.” Ash walked into the kitchen, his expression telegraphing his disapproval of his half brother’s eating habits. “Didn’t Auntie Kimmie make you breakfast?”
Mouth full of cereal, Yiran replied, “She went to the fish market.” He paused to dribble a bit more milk into his mouth to get the right crunch-to-mush ratio before continuing. “Are you giving me a ride to the Academy?”
“Can’t,” Ash said. “I have to be at the Guild headquarters. Paperwork and meetings. Worst part of this job.”
“What’s the best part?”
“Killing Revenants, terrorizing cadets when I’m on campus, the fans.” Ash grabbed his overnight oats from the fridge and rummaged for a spoon. “I have to say the fan club aunties are the best. I’ve gotten so many care packages with homemade food and tonics. I don’t eat or drink any of that—you never know what’s hiding inside.” He pointed his spoon at Yiran. “But I do appreciate the gesture.”
Admittedly, Ash was somewhat of a minor celebrity. There were, after all, collectible laminated photocards with his face printed on them, sold side by side with pop-idol merchandise. Some cards had little hearts drawn on them, others were holographic, and they all focused on Ash’s good looks. There were other well-known Exorcists—the Captains, mostly—who got the same treatment, but Ash was the rising star of the new generation. Yiran supposed it was good politics to have a handsome public face when one dealt with unsavory things.
“Drive yourself to school or get George to take you,” Ash said, adding a generous spoonful of almond butter and fresh berries to his bowl of oats.
“George?”
“Yeah, George Li. Average height, glasses, wife gave birth three weeks ago. You’ve met him—more than once.”
Yiran continued to stare blankly.
Ash tsked. “Remember what I said? Always know your people. Treat them well and with respect, and they’ll be loyal to you.”
Yiran had sat through so many of Ash’s random pep talks that they were all a blur. Ash meant well, but Yiran had been sleepwalking toward an inevitable dead end before meeting Rui, and any sagely life advice had seemed redundant.
But things were different now. Yiran promised himself to do better. “I’ll remember that,” he said. “And it’ll be useful to have a car at the Academy, I guess, but I’ll have to check if I still have driving privileges.”
The thought of asking his grandfather for anything soured his mood. His “magic reveal” was a total nonevent. In fact, it felt like someone hadthrown a bucket of ice water in his face. Nothing had changed except that Yiran got to remain in the city. If anything, Song Wei had seemed irritated that his younger grandson could do magic. Probably because he expected Yiran to fail at Xingshan Academy and bring more shame to the family.
“Want me to talk to Yeye about the car?”
“Nah, it’s my own business.”
Ash clapped a hand on Yiran’s shoulder. “Heisproud of you, you know.”
“He has a funny way of showing it.” Yiran chugged his milk to stop himself from saying more. He wondered if he was being foolish for wanting an old man’s approval.
But you’re not doing this for him anymore. You’re doing this for yourself.
“Damn right,” Yiran muttered, taking another gulp of milk.
“I have to go.” Ash licked his spoon clean, dropped it into the kitchen sink, and wet his hand under the tap. “By the way, your hair’s sticking out.” He patted the offending lock of hair down and pulled Yiran into a hug. “I’mproud of you. Always have been, always will.”
Blinking rapidly, Yiran pushed him away. “Don’t be cringey.”
“Me? Cringey?” Ash laughed and sauntered out of the kitchen.
A smile tugged on Yiran’s lips. He washed his cereal down with the rest of the milk and jogged back to his room to get his suitcase.
The door was slightly ajar when he got to his grandfather’s study. He knocked. Two quick raps.
His grandfather opened the door.
Yiran bowed.
His grandfather eyed the suitcase briefly and retreated into the study. He stopped in front of the expansive bookshelf, speaking without turning his head to Yiran.
