Two Years Later

  The axe thunked against the log, splitting down the middle cleanly. Zhao Li, eight years old now, didn’t flinch from the sound as she once did. Two years passed, and the sound of chopping wood had become familiar to her as her own heartbeat. She stepped up to the log, picking it up with one hand compared to the two hands she used to pick it up, and dragged it towards the cart. No longer struggling as she did two years ago.

  Zhao Li’s body had changed over the years. Lean muscle replaced childish softness, calluses hardening her once-delicate hands. The physical work had transformed her, just as Lady Susu had promised. Yet the promised training remained elusive.

  “That’s enough for today,” Ming called out. He was more familiar to Zhao Li now, but still not friendly enough to acknowledge Zhao Li.

  No one in Snow Rabbit Village had made a friend, not in two years of shared work and passing seasons.

  Zhao Li nodded without speaking, placing the final log in the pile. The other villagers gathered their tools, conversations starting up after a long day; then it drifted into silence as they took notice of her. Two years passed, and she remained a shadow among them—seen but unacknowledged, present but unwelcome.

  Their ignorance is not your burden to carry; Susu’s words echoed in her mind as they had countless times these past few years. Words that comforted her, but also left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  The villagers made their way toward the village, disappearing before the sun set. This was the only time throughout the day, outside of morning, that allowed her to have some time for herself. As her shoulders slumped, the weight of frustration began to settle over her like a heavy cloak.

  “Two years,” she whispered to herself as she sat by the pile of logs. “Two years of pulling these and breathing exercises. Two years of being patient.”

  She kicked at a small stone, sending it skittering across the clearing. The anger that had been building inside her for months flared hot, forming like a stone in the middle of her chest. She wanted to scream, to break something, to make the world acknowledge her existence.

  Instead, she did what Susu’d taught her. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. In through the nose, deep into the belly, hold, then out through the mouth. She thought. This had become second nature to her, but most of all, it brought peace. However, today, it brought no peace.

  “Understanding is not required for obedience,” Zhao Li muttered, echoing Susu’s wisdom. “A child does not understand why she must not touch fire, yet she must obey to avoid being burned.”

  She opened her eyes, staring at her calloused palms. “But I’m not a child anymore. And I’m tired of not understanding.”

  The forest path to her special clearing seemed shorter now than it had when she was six. Her legs were longer and her body overall was stronger. She hopped over the fence and made her way through the underbrush swiftly. She passed a patch of ferns that once reached her waist but now barely brushed her knees.

  She made her way to the moss-covered boulder beside the stream and sat cross-legged. She adjusted her back and planted her hands on her knees and inhaled deeply; she visualised her breath flowing through her nose and exhaling through her lips, just as Susu instructed.

  The sound of the stream usually sent a soothing sensation down her spine, but today, she felt agitated. This was the case every few months, but lately, it was taking place every few weeks. Her thoughts raced instead of calmed. The stream seemed to mock her with its ceaseless movement while she remained stagnant. “Show them that you are better than they are. Smile. Work hard, respect them. Be courteous, be nice,” she recited Susu's instructions, her voice flat. “I’ve done everything you asked. Everything.”

  Two years, she bowed to every elder who looked through her. She worked without complaint, even when her muscles screamed and her back ached. She practiced her breathing during the morning and night. She stretched until sweat beaded on her brow. She endured the silence, the whispers, the burden of being an Axsumite, a home they considered her to be from…but that home was as foreign to her as it is to me.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Nothing changed.

  The villagers’ contempt remained. Susu’s promised training never materialized. The strength Zhao Li had built seemed purposeless, directionless—like a sword forged only to hang on a wall, never to taste battle.

  After not gaining the tranquility she sought. She finally pushed herself off the ground and went by the river. She kicked her shoes off, rolled up her skirt and sleeves, and stepped into the stream.

  A cold sensation shot up Zhao Li’s leg the moment she stepped into the river. She shivered and hissed whilst squinting; she brought her next leg in and shivered slightly. It took her a few seconds, but eventually her body’s temperature matched the water, and she was able to move without issue.

  She allowed the coldness of the stream to flow slightly. It made her feel better, good enough to calm her, but not enough to erase the frustration she had from being ignored. Not enough for her to know that she hadn’t started training.

  A bluish-grey river stone shone in the stream, catching her eye. She squatted slightly, then scooped picked up a smooth river stone. She tossed it a few times to test its weight, then she flicked her wrist, sending it skipping across the water’s surface. The rock skipped three times without stalling, then rolled six more times over the water surface. She smiled, realising her skill had drastically improved over the years.

  As excited as she felt, she still felt hollow inside. Your breathing is stronger. Your stance is better. Your foundation is growing, she reminisced, inhaling as Susu’s reverberated within her mind. Soon, Li’er. Soon.

  Soon stretched into seasons. Winter had turned to spring, spring to summer, summer to autumn, and back to winter again. Twice over. And still, Zhao Li pulled logs while Susu spoke of foundations and patience. A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she picked up another stone. “I could be strong,” she whispered to the empty forest, echoing her younger self's desperate plea.

  “I could be important," but she then realised something.

  She had asked Susu, “When will I be ready?”

  “That depends on you,” had come the equally familiar reply. “Be diligent in your tasks and mindset.”

  Diligent. The word haunted her, a standard always slightly beyond reach. No matter how hard she worked, how perfectly she breathed, how patiently she waited, it was never quite enough to satisfy Lady Susu’s mysterious criteria.

  The sun was beginning its descent, golden light filtering through the canopy to dapple the forest floor. Soon, she would need to return to the village, to the small hut she shared with the woman who was both her guardian and her greatest frustration. “Your skin is beautiful. It is the color of rich earth that grows the strongest trees,”

  Zhao Li looked down at her arms, at the rich dark skin that marked her as different, an Axsumite, as descended from the people of the Demon Emperor. She no longer wished to change it, no longer dreamed of coating herself in flour to become acceptable. That, at least, was a victory—one small piece of wisdom gained from Susu's teachings.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  As she gathered herself to leave, picking up a few edible berries she'd learned to identify during her forest wanderings, Zhao Li made a decision. Tonight, she would confront Susu. Not with tears or pleas, but with the determination that had grown within her during these two years of waiting.

  Either Susu would begin her training, or Zhao Li would find another way. Another teacher, perhaps. Or she would continue teaching herself, however imperfectly. But she would not spend another two years pulling logs and practicing breathing techniques while her childhood slipped away.

  The walk back to the village seemed longer than usual, each step heavy with resolve. The familiar sight of lanterns glowing against the twilight sky brought no comfort tonight, only a steely determination that hardened with each breath.

  At the edge of the village, she paused, watching from a distance as the villagers moved about their evening routines. Children her age played together, their laughter carrying on the wind. Elders sat outside their homes, sharing stories and wisdom. Families gathered for the evening meal, their circles closed and complete.

  Their ignorance is not your burden to carry, Susu's voice reminded her again.

  “Maybe not,” Zhao Li whispered to herself as she squared her shoulders. She walked toward the hut she and Susu shared. “But your promises are mine to claim.”

  The scent of spiced congee greeted her as she approached their home, the familiar smell now a reminder of how little had changed since that night two years ago. Then, Susu's words had offered hope and comfort. Tonight, they would face a reckoning.

  As Zhao Li pushed open the door, she found Lady Susu sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, eyes closed in meditation. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. For a moment, Zhao Li hesitated, the deeply ingrained respect for her guardian warring with her newfound resolve.

  “Li’er, you’re back!” Susu said, her voice revealing nothing of what lay behind those watchful eyes. “Are you hungry?”