Beyond Which Lies the Wind

7: Fish Stew for Three

The market district was usually busy at this time of day, but it was only during the evening when you closed up the shop that you had time to go out. Your mother was still at her part-time job at the teahouse as the sun was setting and your father had long shifts down at the docks, so you were hoping to have dinner prepped and ready by the time they got back.

You could see the long lineups before you crossed the bridge into the heart of the city, and you could already visualize the absurd wait times for if you were to make your ingredients purchases from one of the popular general stores or restaurants. You peered over the edge of the bridge and into crystal clear waters reflecting the warm orange of the setting sun. If no one was looking, you could grab a fish...

You could've sworn the lotuses sitting peacefully in the pond seemed to drift towards you, here where the ocean breeze could not reach.

And so you found yourself in line at Wanmin anyway. They sold the freshest ingredients, portioned and prepared so that you could make their signature dishes effortlessly from the comfort of your own home. Even if it meant you wouldn't be back at home until it was dark, you knew their food was your father's favourite. Fishing season had him working overtime almost every day, so if there was something you could do to put a tired smile on your parents' faces, you'd do what you could. A slowly-moving line and an hour later, you had all the ingredients you needed to cook a black-back perch stew for three, and a small bag of fortune cookies the chef had slipped in when you hadn't been paying attention.

"Give my regards to your father," Chef Mao said, making small talk as he prepared your ingredients. "They've been bringing in an exceptional haul as of late, which is why fish dishes are on sale. Hope your family and business have been well?"

"Yes, thank you," you said warmly. "Same to you, although I can see the restaurant is popular as always."

"It's patrons like you that keep our spirits high," he replied, beaming as he handed you your black-back perch stew to be, and waved over the next customer in line.

It was nightfall by the time you arrived at your family's apartment in the residential district near the wharf, just a street and a half down from the family shop. You fumbled blindly and a little awkwardly for the keys, managing to unlock the door one-handedly in the dark and you headed inside.

The apartment was as you left it that morning, and you kicked off your shoes, turned on the lights, and made your way to the kitchen. The faint smell of flowers followed – oh dear, silk flowers? They weren't even in season to bloom, but you supposed you could pass it off as perfume this time around too. Too bad your father was allergic to silk flower perfume and he would certainly expect that you should know better than to spray it all around the house like this.

Speaking of which, none of the house plants that decorated the rooms beyond the kitchen hallway were silk flowers, precisely because of his allergy. The shop carried some, but you hadn't been there since closing about two hours ago. You peered into the bag with Chef Mao's ingredients with a sinking heart to find a tiny silk flower seedling curled innocuously around the handle of one of the take-out boxes.

How it had gotten there, you had no clue. You hastily unwound it from around the box and – after considering for a heartbreaking moment to toss it out the window – brought it to your room and stuffed it into the pot with one of your other plants.

"You keep yourself out of trouble," you murmured, softly closing the door to your room and heading back to the kitchen. Once you got the food cooking, it'd mask the smell of the flowers...probably. You made a mental note to add extra chilis as you unboxed the sliced fish and turned on the stove.

It had never been like this before, and things only seemed to be getting worse with each passing day. In the old days back at the village, perhaps it just hadn't been as obvious, as if the infertile soils and your Dendro powers cancelled each other out and made things seem almost normal. But the way plants followed you as if you were a snake charmer and propagated at alarming speeds when you were nearby – that was slowly becoming your normal, as if the world itself was punishing you for trying to keep your powers hidden.

The sizzling fish in chili oil and the sweet, fragrant smell of violetgrass permeated the air. You added the mint leaves for garnishing into the frying pan as well, to bring out its strong scent into the mix to help mask the smell of silk flowers. Were you overthinking? You felt guilty that you were putting so much effort in keeping your Dendro Vision from your father who was working so hard to make ends meet. He always talked about how he wished he could manifest one at his age for a chance to work under the Qixing, so he could give your family a better life.

Every word of that sentence piled on fresh waves of guilt.

The food was done and smelled delicious, but you were no longer feeling hungry as you scooped the fish into bowls of freshly steamed rice just as your mother opened the front door.

"Oh, the fish stew from Wanmin that your dad likes!" your mother said from the hallway, "That smells delightful! Did you have a good day today?"

You traded work stories over spicy fish and rice, and right away she noticed that you seemed a bit down, which she commented on.

"It's nothing," you said quickly. "Nothing really happened, it's just...do you think Dad would be angry that I'm keeping my Dendro Vision from him? Some days, I feel like he's going to find out any day now, and he's going to be hurt."

She thought about it for a moment. "The past is in the past," she said. "I can't speak for him, but your choices will always be your own, and we will always be proud of you."

That was a very parent thing to say, you thought miserably, but realizing that she was trying to put it into perspective for you. Your mom knew that it was hard for you too, carrying the burden of a choice you made when you were younger and still being forced to carry around the memory of it now. But this Vision came from your father's family, and you couldn't bear to break the news to him if it would break his heart that you were lying to him all this time.

"Mom, I –"

But in that moment, the front door opened again and you fell silent as your dad came to greet the two of you, exhaustion colouring his features. Born to a farming family, taking on a new livelihood in the fishing industry had been tough, and you'd known that for a long time. This only reminded you once more of the guilt you'd been feeling over everything being your fault. Perhaps you could find better work that could make use of your Dendro Vision. Business was thriving lately, but a small, family-owned house plant shop that drained your parents' paycheck in rental fees wasn't enough. You'd sold your Dendro Vision a long time ago to give your family a better life, and now you were just cowardly, running away from the consequences of your actions. Maybe it was time to own up to it.

Your father brightened at the smell of his favourite dish, and settled down at the dining table with you and your mother.

Just as you were telling him that you had something to say, he spoke at the same time. "I have some good news." Then he laughed, waving it off. "Oh, you go first."

You hesitated.

If you decide that it's time to come clean and tell your dad about your Dendro Vision, go to Chapter 12.

If you decide to let him say what he wanted to tell you first to give yourself some more time, go to Chapter 13.