As much as Gyuvin realized he missed being home at the Court, the solstice holiday they’d been given only lasted a week, and they had to leave the Sunshower City by early morning on the fifth day in order to make it back to the Peak by the stipulated time. Minwoo was coming back with them this time, as per Sect Leader Baek’s arrangements, though he was decidedly not happy to have to leave his work behind at a time like this. He was so busy settling some last minute matters that he didn’t even eat breakfast with them before they set off from the Court.
Gyuvin reached into his pocket and handed him a piece of scallion pancake wrapped in paper he’d saved from the Eclipse, as they mounted their swords and headed back in the direction of Raintree Town. “Sunbae, you didn’t get an breakfast. You shouldn’t travel on an empty stomach or you’ll be low on spiritual energy.”
Minwoo accepted the pancake, though he still looked burdened. “I can’t believe the Sect Leader is making me do stuff like this when it’s the busiest month of the year for the sect,” he said, sighing.
“He did say he wanted you to have a break,” Gyuvin said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “It’ll be fun to be away from the Court for a while. The Peak grounds are really beautiful, and the schedule there isn’t as bad as it is at home.”
“Doesn’t he know none of those donkeys know how to do anything without me there?” Minwoo continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything Gyuvin had said. “The last time I let Myunghee handle the purchasing of flour for the noodle-making, I asked him for fifty bags and he had the gall to come back with thirty-five! Seriously, I spent last night writing an entire list of instructions so they wouldn’t be so clueless while I’m gone. I’m having a headache just thinking about it…”
Gyuvin wanted to comfort Minwoo, but first he had to stop himself from laughing at the idea of poor Myunghee getting reamed by Minwoo over the flour, which was no easy task in the first place. “Maybe they’ll discover some new potential in themselves while you’re away,” he said optimistically. “And then you won’t be so overworked when you get back. There’s always a possibility.”
“I hope so. In the meantime, I’ll be praying the Court doesn’t burn down.”
It took them about the same number of days to get back to the Peak than it did for them to leave. Night was beginning to descend upon Raintree Town as they passed over the quiet village and landed at the foot of the mountain. Jung Aerin and Lee Eunyoung were there when they arrived; Gyuvin surmised they were there to receive Minwoo and welcome him to the Peak. The nine of them greeted the seniors and headed up the Peak using the elevator enchantment, leaving Minwoo behind to talk to the seniors and get settled in.
The Peak was just as lively as it usually was. Most of the other cultivators had just returned from wherever they’d spent their week’s holiday too, and there was a jovial sense of reunion as they passed through the main corridors, greeting the other cultivators and catching up with them. They’d travelled for two days in a row without much rest, and Gyuvin was a little worn, so he excused himself after a little while of socialising to go rest in his quarters.
Ricky was sitting at his usual spot in their courtyard, under the willow tree, when Gyuvin entered. As expected, Ricky didn’t seem to have much desire to socialize either. Gyuvin deliberated for a moment and decided to sit outside, his back against the willow tree directly facing Ricky’s. He sat in silence for a few minutes, looking like he was pondering hard, before getting up again and sitting at the little stone table in the centre of the courtyard.
“What was that about?” Ricky asked, looking a little bemused.
Gyuvin answered with complete seriousness. “I was trying to figure out why you always sit there.”
“So did you figure it out?”
“No, and the tree roots hurt my butt.”
Ricky gave Gyuvin a strange look, but didn’t argue. “I just like being outside. It’s stifling to be cooped up indoors all the time.”
“You had fun at Meteor Court, didn’t you?” Gyuvin asked, absentmindedly playing with the dried leaves that had fallen onto the stone table while they were away.
“I did,” Ricky sighed, a little wistfully. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”
“Have you ever thought about leaving Moonrise Palace?”
The question hung in the air for a long moment, and Gyuvin almost took it back, wondering if he shouldn’t have said it.
“Why would I want to leave?”
Ricky didn’t sound offended or miffed in any way, and Gyuvin took it as a sign that he could continue. “I don’t know…no one really knows too much about the Palace, but it doesn’t seem like it’s very much fun in there. I’m not trying to be rude or anything, though,” he added quickly, as an afterthought.
“Must everything in life be fun?”
Gyuvin thought carefully before he answered. “No, not everything. I know some things are hard no matter where you go, but that doesn’t mean we have to grit our teeth and endure everything either. Life is short. I’d rather spend my precious time chasing shooting stars.”
“Who says I don’t?”
“You mean you do?”
“I’ve never told you much about my life at the Palace, have I?” Ricky said, a small smile crossing his face.
“No, you haven’t,” Gyuvin answered. “Honestly, I thought you weren’t allowed to.”
“But you can keep a secret, can’t you?”
Gyuvin smiled, nodding and sitting up properly so he could listen.
“All my earliest memories from childhood were of being in the Palace,” Ricky began. “As far as I can remember, I never had a mother or father, and I was raised together with the other children who were orphans. Every New Year, the cultivators who had family outside the Palace would leave to visit them, and I would sit with the rest of the disciples who didn’t have any family, and we would stay up through the night and welcome the new year together. We would eat the dumplings the kitchens prepared, and drink the sweet soup they boiled. The year I turned ten, Hao-hyung snuck out with me to the mountainside to set off firecrackers he’d made himself. I had never heard anything so loud in my life. I remember being so stunned I fell into the snow, and me and Hao-hyung clung to each other with laughter and excitement.”
Gyuvin tried to envision ten year old Ricky and fourteen year old Zhanghao sneaking out of the Palace, finding some secluded area of the mountaintop, clumsily trying to light firecrackers in the dead of midnight. “That sounds like fun.”
“They caught us, as was to be expected since the firecrackers were so loud the explosions echoed through the mountain range. Hao-hyung and I spent the first week of the new year kneeling at the Hall of Reflections.”
Gyuvin fixed Ricky with a strange look. “Oh. That’s a good memory to you?”
“I never said it was a particularly good memory,” Ricky continued. “Let me finish. I learned something years later, that as long as I was in the Palace, everything was in my control. If I broke the rules, I would be punished. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t be. The real world is tumultuous and bad things happen for reasons that are out of our control, but the Palace is different. I know nothing bad will ever happen as long as I don’t make them happen. The rules exist the way they do for the good of the people, and so all we had to do was follow them, and we would live well. Life could be so simple, you know?”
Gyuvin nodded slowly. “When you don’t have to worry that you’re making the wrong choices?”
“Because I will always know what the right choices are,” Ricky finished. “You understood what I meant.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It’s not as much fun as chasing shooting stars,” Ricky mused. “But it’s peaceful. I’ve grown to realize one of these things is more important to me than the other.”
He began to understand that Ricky was like a flower, the most delicate of roses blooming with the coming of spring; if he wasn’t careful enough, he would break the stem or crush its petals, and the flower would wither and fade away. All he could do was hold it carefully in his open palms and wait for the open up by itself. Only then would the beauty hidden within allow itself to be seen.
Gyuvin had never been one to think twice about the things he did; he’d spent his childhood leaping before he looked at every turn and picking up the pieces after, and he’d grown up wielding polearms and throwing stones. Now that what was in his hands was a small kitten instead of the cold hilt of a sword, he found himself for the first time thinking twice about everything he said and did, trying his best not to make any sudden moves because he feared one wrong word would startle the kitten, and then it would dart away and never come back.Â
Comment