Chapter Text
The great red sun rises over China. It had now spilled golden rays over the Yellow River. It had not yet reached them, but the light will come here also. Ash laid in a thin blanket over jade mountains, above yellow clay and gravel, painting the land grey. Through the stones, new sprouts were forming, roots breaking through the hardened dirt. Soon the great red sun would reduce the ice on the river mouths, and the trickling streams would once again be filled with the singing of marbles - the blood of the earth. Softly the birds took to the trees, the sparrows high up chirped and squealed as they begin to repair their nests. Over the mountains there rang a song from a great forlorn bird, its sorrow echoing through the valley where mist was beginning to rise. Who knew if it called for its mate, or its scattered flock, or its children that had fallen from the nest. Who knew if it saw the sun, the dawn of a new day, and is afraid. After a moment, the tremulous singing is stopped, and all is silent.
But not all is silent in the bamboo trees, the winding path that went through them till it emerged into a clearing- the crook of the elbow in the rolling hills, the dip of the spine between the crest and the trough. All wind is funneled here, rattling the hanging bells, making wood shudder and creak, and the windows swung madly on their hinges like butterfly wings.
Shang Chi sat at the bank of the river, the wind in his hair and water rolling beneath his toes. It is the least at peace he had felt in ten years, with the ten rings hanging on his arm like concrete blocks. Lost in thought, he sluggishly raised a single palm up to reach for the sky.
There are no silent moments now. He is tormented by the rings and their incessant clinking, engaging in frantic and confused gossip of their previous owner. When would it feel truly natural to wear?- he wondered. If only that day would never come.
Katy shot him a concerned glance. “Are you okay, dude?”
“I don’t know. Eventually, I guess. I still need some time to process-” he threw his arm out- “All this.”
Katy frowned, looking into the distance. From her misty-eyed gaze, Shang Chi could tell that she likely had a lot of her processing to do. They’d lost a lot of people. Death, monsters, legends… all this was too new, and too much to take in. If he were back at the compound right now, the home that he knew for fourteen years of his life, he would not have left it so soon or so eagerly. If his father were to hand to him a great mission and a heavy responsibility, he would not abandon it again. And if there was pain to be dealt in the form of beatings, of taciturnity- he would laugh and embrace it all.
Shang Chi's regrets slosh and spill over the brim, but his well of miracles ran dry.
Come back home, son.
He used to scowl at those words with the pent-up frustration of a teenager, but now it was all he wished to hear. Not pitying gazes, not gentle guidance - just a few words that promised the world.
Shang Chi looked towards the ruins of the Dark Gate, the rocks crumbling down into the sea. The scent of ozone and lightning trickles into him again, the sensation of his feet planted on a ground damp and slippery, ten rings heavy on his wrist, still warm from the heat of skin and sweat. It felt like only yesterday that the tsunami he had been running from, had touched him and said I’ve missed you terribly.
“My dad’s body is still there.”
“I know, Shang Chi.”
The wind picked up, drawing goosebumps from his skin, sending dust and leaves swirling up into the sky. In his mind's eye, he saw Wenwu’s body laid there like a ragdoll on the stones, vanishing into a speck as they flew farther and farther away from him on the dragon. His larger-than-life father, looking small and fragile like a child, is on the verge of shattering. He should have done something. Picked his father up, cradled him in his arms, brought him back to safety. But then, the fervor of battle had been more urgent.
Shang Chi’s eyes prickled with tears, and he began pulling the rings off his wrist, letting them clatter onto the river stones. He picked one up, weighed it in his palm, and hurled it outwards. The orange ring flew in a swooping arc and splashed into the middle of the lake, sinking out of view immediately. But his heart did not stop racing till he could tell with absolute certainty that it had reached the bottom.
“Hell yeah, man,” Katy laughed, loud and relieved. “Throw them as hard as you can. Let it all out. Fuck the Rings, yeah? Fuck them!”
His hands trembled as he picked another one up and launched it into the water with an almighty boom. There was cotton in his ears and his face felt hot, but for a split second as the water parted under the metal, there came a great sigh of relief from the earth. And Shang Chi, too, felt lighter.
“Fuck the rings!” he cried out, voice hoarse. Another one went into the lake, sending a furious ripple of water all the way up to the banks, where they lapped at his feet.
“Fuck my shitty dad - who said you could die? Who told you to die? You left us alone, you left me alone!” The next ring went plowing into the side of a mountain, and a flock of birds swirled to the sky in alarm, squawking indignantly. Shang Chi could feel his father’s phantom hand on his back, the low voice in his ears. Never was he able to sense his mother in these moments, unlike Xialing - she eluded him like how the sun ran from the rain.
“Who says you could die like that? After we just fought? Do you know-” his voice shatters. “- what that fucking did to me? You lived for a thousand years, but this is the hill you choose to die on? Why didn’t you even try? Come on. Tell me that’s not it. Get out of your fucking grave and tell me that’s not how you’re going to go!”
“You’re a shit father!” he screamed out. And though there’s something in him that whispered these things aren’t meant to be said , the dam had broken. After ten years of thrashing and clawing, these things could not be stoppered anymore. A dull, chiffon-wrapped sort of horror emerged in his mind, soon shoved away into the background by fatigue.
Shang Chi turned back to reach for another ring, and there was only one left. He must’ve stumbled into the river in a daze, because there’s now water swirling around his ankles. It did not quite register when Katy put her arms around him, stifling his little hysterical sobs. Perhaps it was her deep love that flowed from her palms into him, but his soul was quietened and the calmness returned to him in small bursts.
“...okay?”
“What?” he mumbled into her shoulder, still reeling.
“Are you okay now?”
Was he? The tears had stopped, leaving his cheeks itchy and damp. There were no rings on his wrists, and he felt like a bird out of its cage. The sun had reached where they were, striking down the beaten path- he could feel its warmth on his back, see the shadow it cast on the ground.
“I’m still mad,” he whispered. “And I’m still… gonna cry about it later.”
Katy buried a muffled laugh into his shoulder. They sway from side to side, setting a gentle rhythm for his heartbeat. Shang Chi resolutely tried to stop thinking about his father, buried it away with the chanting of goodbye, goodbye, goodbye until that aching love felt like a distant memory.
“Yeah, I think I’m okay.”
Behind them, unseen, the abandoned ring pulsed in electric blue.
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Auntie didn't question it when Shang Chi returned without the rings on his wrist, and he didn't talk about it either. The mass area was bustling with activity when they got back from the river. He helped to set the table, laid the chopsticks beside ceramic bowls, carried large clay pots of rice to the tables. The village elders and children thanked him with ruddy smiles, even as their eyes refuse to meet his face. A few of the children are starting to poke at the rice and vegetables, the scent of garlic and spice already making them salivate- but their parents do not pull them back or berate them. They stare at the rim of the bowl or into an invisible face, gazes fogged and empty. It is like there is no one around them, no one beside them. There is a child on the far end of the table, who cannot reach a plate that is too far away. She tugs on her mother's sleeve, gets no response, and settles back sullenly. Shang Chi recognized her- her mother is the wife of the welder, whose grave he had dug yesterday. Two days ago she had been with him in their bed. Today she is a widow.
Soon after, after all of them have taken their seats, Shang Chi poured them the soup and served the rice, making his way from the elderly to the youngest boys and girls, leaving himself and Katy for last.
Auntie plucked a piece of fish from the bowl and places it on his plate. “Eat up, nephew.”
“Thanks, auntie.” Hiding watering eyes behind his bowl, Shang Chi gobbled down the food of his hometown, the savory flavors exploding on his tongue.
“We did a bit of rock skipping over at the lake in the morning,” Katy announced, raising another spoon of rice to her mouth. “It was intense.”
Shang Chi feels a hot rush of affection for her, and sent a silent thank-you for breaking the awkward tension.
“Ooh!” A small boy at the end of the table pipes up. The village elder’s grandchild- Zhu Tian - Shang Chi recognized him by his squarish head and a voice that sounded like it belonged to a heavy smoker. And he remembered it too, from the way the boy had followed Katy around the other day, asking Where's grandpa? Where's grandpa? “Can we try later too?”
“The rocks we’re using are probably too heavy for you, Zhu Tian,” She told the boy, frowning in exaggerated despair. “Maybe you can skip the smaller rocks with me at the lake on the other side? Shang Chi 哥哥 has some stuff that needs his attention, so it’s just the two of us.”
Yes, there were things that need his attention. Later, he would need to go up the mountain alone, scrape past the rubble, and bring his father down. Caught in memory, Shang Chi looked out into the distance, his face set in the mold of its suffering. He saw his father’s face out in the distance, reflected on the water that shimmered like dragon scales.
“Nephew?” Auntie lays a gentle hand on his arm, bringing him back to them. “I will not ask you to move on so soon, or to forgive him, but I want to tell you that he is in a better place now. By chance, I passed by and heard what you said at the river this morning—” Shang Chi startled, his stomach roiling with embarrassment and mortification.
“—and I understand how you feel.”
“It was in the heat of the moment. I didn’t mean what I said,” he protested weakly. I am still a good, dutiful son. I do not- will not set fire to my father’s grave with hatred and anger.
“Your heart knows the truth. Accept it, face it, don’t run from it. That only brings you more pain.”
“I understand.”
“You are still here with us, and I worry terribly about you. So you should be angry, Shang Chi, for all the things he has done. But do not stay angry.”
“I understand.”
“Today, when you come down from the mountain, do not let the others see you. I am sorry, my dear, but they still…”
“I understand you,” Shang Chi interrupted. The pain in his heart was spreading to his arms, his wrists, all the way down to the tips of his fingers. “I understand you completely.”
A silence fell upon them. There is nothing else to be said now, only things to be done and tasks to be fulfilled with the utmost duty and reverence. Auntie was waiting for him to go and do what he was supposed to do. Shang Chi was waiting too, waiting for himself to be ready, for his own hands to stop shaking. He looks discreetly at the others throughout the meal, waiting for the majority of them to be done eating so he could leave without awkwardness.
After the meal was over, and Katy and the children had left, Shang Chi walked the cobblestone path to his grass-and-wood hut. He entered it and closed the door slowly, afraid to let it slam shut. There was little light inside the house, and Shang Chi took slow steps through it- partly because of the darkness, and partly because this was the house of a stranger.
He circled the small bed- short and stout like a cot for a child, and ran his fingers over the edge of the yellow-painted table that stood beside it. There was a drawer in it, and it contained many bundles of scrolls, all fairytales. 老鹰和小鸡，格林童话故事，一千零一夜，嫦娥和后羿... Absentmindedly, Shang Chi took one out and turned it over in his hands. '神兽传：儿童故事' was written in swooping brush strokes. But then he could see the edge of a black wing peeking out from the corners, and dropped it quickly as though scalded, heart hammering in his chest.