Even among these infidels, Bixian saw no reason to discontinue Qiping’s studies.

Perhaps she could be less strict in matters of poetry and rhetoric, but there was no reason why Qiping shouldn’t continue her path of cultivation. To her dismay, Qiping’s indifference to her studies did not change with the change in scenery.

“This should not be difficult,” she said calmly as she and Qiping sat on the porch of their newly provided house. “Just focus on your breathing and feel the limits of your selfhood extend past your body, into every living thing.”

“This is boring,” Qiping grumbled.

“Try not to fidget. Your hands are a key channel between the outer world and your inner world. Biting your nails will hinder this.”

Qiping quickly moved her hand from her mouth, moving both her hands under her seat in order to disguise her previous action.

“No, that won’t do.” Bixian shook her head. “Your palms should face upwards to receive the world’s energy. Like this.” She held out her own hands open on her cross legs and waited until Qiping did the same.

As the two of them sat on their small veranda, gazing out towards the nearby mountain peaks, Bixian finally acknowledged the worry brewing in her chest. Even after a year under the Qilin Sage’s tutelage, Qiping had barely any capabilities above that of common folk. Perhaps she truly was not suited to be a disciple.

Even the laziest disciple under the Qilin Sage lived for a hundred years in the perfect health of youth. With her lack of ability, Qiping’s would be fortunate to reach a hundred, and even then her body and mind would be long past their prime.

In her centuries by the Qilin Sage’s side, Bixian rarely interacted with the common folk. The lifespans of the disciples, who entered Dichang Temple as children and left as elders, already seemed inconceivably short.

The thought that Qiping’s life would pass in the blink of an eye saddened Bixian more than she expected. She had long since inured herself to the passing of human life; she mourned them the same as she did blades of grass. Suddenly, however, she cared for this particular blade of grass, and wanted to watch it grow.

And Bixian had to admit, Qiping thrived in this fable of a village far more than she had at Dichang Temple. For the first time Bixian knew what Qiping’s smile looked like, how her cheeks lifted up to almost obscure her eyes. She also snorted when she laughed, which was unbecoming of a disciple but wonderful for a child.

“Pingping, are you done with your studies?” With a boisterous yell, the main source of Qiping’s laughter ran through the village crossroads and hugged the girl tightly. Bixian pursed her lips, as it was clear there would be no more learning today.

Xingxi took Qiping’s hand and pulled her towards the Luo family’s courtyard. “Come on, Beibei is learning how to fly!”

Qiping looked to Bixian with pleading eyes and the crane relented. She followed the two girls towards the Luo residence, where Xingbei, the younger eagle child, was practicing jumping jacks in front of his father. With each jump he stayed aloft in the air for a few seconds, before touching back down onto the ground with disappointment.

With boundless energy, Xingxi dropped Qiping’s hand to stand by her brother. “You gotta use your legs more,” she coaxed. “They have to spring you up high enough to become wings.” To demonstrate, she bent her knees and launched upwards, and Bixian watched with horror as the girl’s legs spread into wings, her spine folding in on itself to place her head in the appropriate place.

Eagle Xingxi swooped down and grabbed her younger brother by the shoulders. “Now you try,” she says, tossing him up into the air. Xingbei desperately scissored his legs back and forth like an ineffective swimmer, but all he could sprout was a few feathers before he fell into the arms of his father.

“Easy now,” Luo Feiyi said. “You’re improving, Xingbei.” The boy beamed.

“He’s being taught wrong,” Bixian could not help herself from interjecting. The eagle family turned to stare at her. Qiping stared as well, shrinking behind Xingxi.

Ever calm, Luo Feiyi cocked his head. “How so?”

“Your daughter is telling him to turn his legs into wings. Such shapeshifting is extremely hard on the body. It is much easier to turn one’s arms into wings,” here she demonstrated, sweeping up one of her robed arms and spreading out her black-tipped wings, “and keeping one’s spine in alignment.”

“But I use my legs to run, and my wings to fly,” Xingxi argued. “And I can’t grab things with my foot the same way I can grab things with my hands and claws. I guess Uncle Jin can do it, but he’s a monkey so…”

She quieted as Luo Feiyi patted her head. “I know my daughter’s methods are rather…unconventional. But her existence itself is unconventional, and I would rather let her true nature flourish than to stifle it with my own preconceptions.”

“That may be so, but your daughter seems to have an innate talent for magic. Your son may need more traditional guidance to find his potential.”

Bixian felt a tug on her sleeve. Xingbei looked up at her with adoration. “Can you teach me how to fly then, Miss Crane?”

She couldn’t find it in her to say no.