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It wasn’t so bad today. The soothing salve provided by Lady Meiling and her apprentice Ri Zu soothed most of the pain… as did the knitted tube wrapped around his body, crafted for him by Jin.

It was a bit harder to slither around with it on but it was soft and warm. It was more kindness than he deserved from them. From all of them. He, who had turned innocent Yin into a weapon of vengeance against Sun Ken. He had betrayed her trust in him. Worse still, it was all for nothing.

Normally his student would have accompanied him, aiding him as she could. But today, he let her sleep. He was up earlier than normal, after all. The last vestiges of the stars lit the sky in the final hours before daylight. But he was close. He was so close to finishing his task, a task given to him by Jin. A purpose, after so long without one.

His eyes picked out Chun Ke, Pi Pa, and Jin in the distance as they walked slowly along the riverbank. Chun Ke had been increasingly restless as winter approached, and was having trouble sleeping. The boar had taken to going on long walks with the others to help settle himself. One of his companions in his early morning walks varied—but he was always with Pi Pa.

Miantiao stared at the three massive scars that ran through the boar’s face, and bowed his head slightly, heading towards his destination. Chun Ke was in good hands—he did not need Miantiao to darken the mood further.

He travelled through the crunchy, crackling grass and the iced-over pools of water as he came to his destination: the building that had been made for him to practise his craft. It was as grand as any he had seen, and built to his specification by Gou Ren and Jin. It brought back memories every time he entered it.

He shook off the feeling, as he entered the place. The furnace was still burning, though banked, and he tended to it, raising the flames higher and heating both the furnace that would melt the glass and the bath that would be filled with molten metal beneath it.

The Float Glass technique that Jin had mentioned was still incomplete. Pouring the molten glass on to molten metal and then letting it smooth out into a single pane before rolling off was utterly brilliant. Still, there were often some bits of slag stuck to the surface of the glass that required careful scraping and polishing to get off. It was time consuming… but Miantiao could mitigate the worst of it by channeling his Qi into the glass and keeping it separate from the metal.

The final result was the flattest, smoothest, and clearest pieces of glass Miantiao had ever borne witness to. His dear departed Master would have waxed poetic about it. The artisans of the village would have gathered around and kowtowed before any craftsman for the mere sight of this piece.

And so Miantiao the snake worked. He toiled in the searing heat of the forge. He toiled through his aches and pain. He toiled through the melancholy of the coming winter.

All who lived here offered their help without a thought—yet Miantiao could not be as they were. He would not do as he had with his apprentice Yin, take without giving. He had to do something that deserved that help. He would earn the hand being offered to him.

Bi De had said that living was atoning.

So MianTiao, student of Boli Xin the Glassmaker, would atone in the only way he could.

It was not Miantiao who placed the last pane of glass in the scaffold of iron. Though he was asked to do the honour… that was for another. It was Jin’s idea, and thus, Jin should complete it.

Miantiao had to admit he was a bit skeptical; despite the sound theory, he couldn’t completely believe that it would be so insulating. Glass, after all, was known for losing heat.

But as Jin sealed in the panes with a thick tar, Miantiao could not help but marvel at the shining building of glass.

Everyone was gathered. From Young Master Bi De to Tigu, Gou Ren, and the newest members of the Fa Ram, Bowu and his sister Xianghua.

All were staring with wonder at the structure.

“This is so cool,” Yun Ren whispered, as he stared wide-eyed at the structure. He took out a pad of paper and some charcoal, his eyes shining as he wrote down notes and drew designs.

‘Hell yeah! Shifu is awesome!’ Yin enthused, bouncing in excitement. Miantiao nearly chided her for her language but he was interrupted.

“He is,” Jin agreed. “This is amazing work, Miantiao.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the gathered crowd. Miantiao ducked his head slightly, pretending to be unaffected. Yet he could not stop the swelling of pride in his chest.

He had helped make this.

“Come on, let\'s head in!” Jin said, opening the door. Yin shot in first, rushing past everyone through the first door into a small wooden building that was insulated and attached to the larger glass structure. Once everyone made their way in, they closed the outer door and then opened the inner one, the one that led directly into the house made of glass.

The area was completely barren. All there was were the high ceilings and a perfect uninterrupted view of the world around them. The autumn sun gazed down, throwing its light through the glass, which seemed to focus and intensify it.

The room was already slightly warmer than outside despite being completed a few minutes ago.

Yin shot past them, bouncing around the room as more people walked in, looking around. But Miantiao stayed in the doorway.

He stared at Yin, her eyes bright and sparkling as she excitedly asked Ri Zu, who followed her frantic movements with nimble grace, about which plants they would grow first.

Miantiao watched the others walking around the glass house. He could see the excited smiles on their faces. They laughed and joked. Sharing in the marvel.

Being surrounded by their joy still hurt sometimes. It brought back the memories of his old home, lost to tragedy and greed.

Most days, Miantiao still felt like an outsider. But if he was honest, he was unconsciously distancing himself. Unable to stop himself, afraid and trying to spare himself more pain. What if things went as badly as last time?

He didn’t know.

Jin, having noticed his hesitation, stepped back to where the snake was watching everyone. The young man’s concern was clear for him to see. “You doing alright, Miantiao?”

Even at this moment Jin offered his hand. It was who he was, this strange man who had given him a place in his home. And yet Miantiao could still not fully understand it. This place, where they always seemed so happy, carried loss. He knew the occasional forlorn look in Jin’s eyes. In Young Master Bi De’s extreme caution around anything that could be considered corrupted. In Lady Meiling’s own actions, as she strove her hardest to heal those around her. In the way Xianghua and Bowu clung to each other.

A thousand little breaks. A thousand little cracks. Yet they all carried on anyway. They all smiled, meeting each new day with determination and a desire to move forward. To move on.

Miantiao shook his head.

‘I am… I am well, Jin,’ he said. The man nodded, accepting his response… then offered Miantiao his arm. “ Come on, let’s go inside”

Miantiao looked at the arm for a moment and hesitated, then climbed up, winding up on Jin’s neck like a scarf.

Like he had done with his Master, so many years ago.

“Do you have anything you want to try growing in here?” Jin asked, as a sudden blast of light and heat from Yin began heating up the room even faster.

The question… well, it didn’t really concern him. He was a creature of pottery and glass—the affairs of the earth were beyond him. Yet as he was about to defer the question, he paused and truly considered it.

He thought of one thing. A memory. A remembrance for the departed in a house made of glass to the man who had made Miantiao.

‘If thisss Miantiao may sssuggest… Sssunnflowers.’ His master’s favorite flower. It was frivolous, to be sure. He did not even know if they would grow here either.

But he asked humbly.

Jin nodded enthusiastically, his eyes brightening up at the idea.

By night time, the ‘greenhouse’ was as hot as a summer’s day. It should have stood out. It should have looked out of place. And yet… it didn’t.

It looked like it belonged. A piece of Miantiao’s Master, living on.

His heart resolved, he approached Young Master Bi De as they settled in for the night.

‘Young Master… You said that you offered thanks to the earth spirit for this place. How… how does one do such a thing?’

Bi De spoke often of how the land rejected the wicked. Yin had taken to it with gusto, and spoke of the occasional feeling of somebody being amused by her.

Yet Miantiao simply had never tried. His rejection was certain, after all. What kind of benevolent land would accept him? It was best not to waste its time or attention.

He was unworthy of it.

But tonight… tonight, he would offer himself. He would see just how wicked his heart was.

Would the land reject him? He… he had to know. He had to know if he could be redeemed.

The rooster smiled at him, and nodded. “Let me show you.”

Miantiao got the feeling that he had been waiting for him to ask.

Qi of glass and earth was guided by the light of the moon, to a network of golden strands. They pulsed sluggishly—and Miantiao froze when he truly beheld them.

They were like the art the village had sometimes produced. Pottery, shattered, and then inlaid with lacquer to snake the cracks into something beautiful.

It felt… familiar. Almost like he had some kind of kinship with the threads of golden light. His energy touched the strands of gold. A tiny portion, as he gave himself to the land.

He was not redeemed. He was not foolish enough to think himself forgiven for what he had done to Yin.

Yet… he felt maybe, just maybe, he could try.

Tianlan’s eyes drooped as she pounded the reeds again. Each moment, each time she lifted the rock to pound the reeds into fiber, felt like she was lifting the world. Her arms shook with the effort and the golden cracks in her body ached.

She was tired. So, so tired. All she wanted was sleep.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.

The rock thudded into the reeds, and she left it there, panting for breath as she turned to the divot in the ground, filled with reed fiber and a single, ragged blanket.

She stopped and stared at the lonely little divot in the earth. It wouldn’t help her. Her preparations were lacking. She knew that much. Some half-forgotten instinct told her what she needed to do. What she needed to create, to recover and heal. Tianlan clenched the stone in her fist, and took a breath.

The memories surfaced. Of the time before the void, before the terror and pain.

A man, grinning as he helped craft her a grand palace.

The memory distracted her, and she missed the next strike. The rock slipped from her hands landing with a thud on the ground beside the reeds. Her body followed the motion, and she keeled over, thudding into the earth beside it.

She lay there, breathing sharply, staring at the divot in the ground. Her resting place. It was marginally better than being shards of herself, base instinct spread across the broken ground.

She couldn’t do it alone, could she?

And yet every time she opened her mouth to ask, memories came flooding back.

She remembered, reliving it, that nightmare.

Begging and crying for help. Screaming for it. She remembered the deafening silence. The indifference, like they couldn’t hear her at all, and the grasping hands that ripped and tore at her broken body, bleeding and leaking energy as they ripped her apart, taking her very essence for themselves.

She gagged at the thought. At the shadow of sharpness digging into her golden wounds.

Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the sky, white stars crossed with golden cracks. She pressed the back of her hand into her eyes, and bit her lip.

Gentle energy touched her, reaching out from her Connected One. Strands of gold, more vital than ever, propped up her flagging strength and soothed the aches.

Yet the energy was not alone. Not like the first months.

More strands touched her, flowing from others. Each had a taste unique to itself. Orbs of captured moonlight, pure and without taint. Medical plants, with their healing tang. Grass, growing strong, its roots anchoring the ground. Stone and strength, a foundation. Wisps of light and a prankster’s laugh. A friend who knew what it was to want to be understood. A rumble of nurturing earth, a void that was somehow warm, water, lightning and the scent of a meal, the light of the sun… And then something new.

A tiny shard of shattered pottery and broken glass, wanting so desperately to atone. Reaching out for her, to help, even as he himself was broken.

Opening up, reaching out, giving without taking.

All these little sparks of light, propping her up, without her asking. Even though she hadn’t truly given anything to most of them.

Her hand began to shake. The little shard of pottery and glass awaited her judgement. His energy was slightly tainted. He did feel a lot like the people who had hurt her.

And yet he reached out to her.

Tianlan sucked in a breath. She touched the little strand of Qi.

Please…

The call was quiet. Half desperate prayer and half forlorn plea.

Please…

…help.

Silence answered her.

She lay there in the grass. Ugly panting gasps escaped her. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. There was no pulse of energy. There were no eyes upon her. There were no hands reaching for her.

She let out a final shuddering breath as she lay on the grass. The tears flowed. She closed her eyes. Nobody would come; she was alone. It was better that way. Part of her hadn’t wanted this to work—

The earth trembled, and Tianlan heard a soft oink.

“Hey. You alright, kiddo?” the voice of her connected one came in two familiar tones.

She jolted, opening her tear-filled eyes to look up. Her Connected One was there.

His face was split in two, a massive scar made of gold right down the middle. Two shattered and broken halves were welded together—yet slowly they were melding together, the two halves becoming more at peace with each other.

Her vision of the concerned man was interrupted by the appearance of another. The woman crouched down immediately to examine Tianlan. Amethyst eyes as intense as her Connected One swooped down to examine her. The woman’s freckles had a golden sheen connected by bands of metallic light, forming constellations across the bridge of her nose.

“Are you well, little one?” she asked, as delicate fingers brushed the hair out of her eyes. Her voice was full of concern.

Tianlan curled up further, tightening into a little ball.

“Winter,” she whispered, raising her hand to point. “I have to prepare for winter.”

The shining woman and man turned to look at the little divot in the ground. Her Connected One’s faces fell.

Tianlan looked away from them in shame.

“That\'s no place to last the winter,” her Connected One declared.

“You’ll catch death if you sleep here, little one,” the woman chastised, scooping Tianlan into her arms.

Jin smiled at the earth spirit. “Let’s build you something nicer, yeah?”

The world shifted slightly. Trees materialized, the landscape changing from the grassland to something else. An axe formed in her Connected One’s hand.

Her Connected One, her Jin walked to the trees, preparing the land. Cutting the wood in a single stroke, his axe hewing the felled log into suitable planks.

Tianlan was carried back to her rock and her fiber, as her Connected One sat with her, cradling her in the lap.

“This is how you weave a proper blanket,” her Meiling’s gentle voice washed over her. “Watch carefully, little one.”

Her deft fingers worked, threading together the reeds with grace. Tianlan watched on, as her Meiling began to hum an old song. Behind the voice and the soft movements of the weaving she heard the steady beat of an axe. Jin\'s voice picked up the pattern of the song, the two melding into a soothing harmony.

Tianlan felt herself begin to drift off, in the warm embrace, safe. Just the three of them. How it should be. Just her Connections—

“Xiulan, can you get me more fiber?”

Tianlan jolted back into wakefulness.

“Of course, Meiling,” a soft, melodious voice answered. Tianlan looked up from her seat on Meilings lap and stared at the third presence. A female figure with the face of a long dead friend stared back. Her heart panged with loss… but this was not her old friend. Xiulan was different. A golden fracture in the center of her chest marred the perfection of her form. It was visible through her clothes, a mark of damage done, yet Xiulan stood proudly. She smiled at Tianlan and winked.

“You’re much cuter when you’re not trying to headbutt me,” the woman said, amused, as the grass around them grew tall and separated into soft strands that Meiling took for weaving.

Xiulan began to tap her feet to the beat of the pounding axe and the soft tune upon Meiling’s lips, adding her own voice to the harmony of the song.

There was another soft rumble.

A rooster made of silver light descended from the heavens, looking around curiously. His eyes alighted on Tianlan, and he bowed respectfully before turning to his Master, flying to assist him in hewing the logs.

There was another rumble, as another pathway opened, leading to her. Two more joined them in the construction. A monkey-looking man grumbled and complained, gray, rocky fingers scratching at his bushy sideburns as he ceaselessly heaved up stones to serve as the foundation of the house. The other man, vulpine in features, his form smoky and misty yet shining like the sun, heckled the stone man as he painted the drab browns of wood and reeds so they burst with colour, adding to the budding chorus.

A girl came next, her form shifting between human and tiger, flickering fitfully until it settled on human—albeit with cat ears upon her head, a tail, and an enormous amount of freckles dotting her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and playful as she hopped about, assembling the home, then carving into the wood of the building with intricate patterns and beautiful images, elevating the material above just base wood.

Next came a pig. She was pink and translucent, pretty and dainty—yet a small ball of darkness sat quietly, waiting, in the center of her chest. She moved with perfect grace, drifting through the little world from one place people were working to the next, organizing tools, carrying completed products to their destination, and smoothing everybody into a perfect, seamless dance.

A tiny rat, made of inky darkness and healing herbs, scampered around the fields of Tianlan’s domain, inspecting the golden cracks in the ground, and offering soothing Qi into them.

A great dragon the size of a fish descended to earth with arrogance. Then, realizing that everybody else was bigger than him, the little dragon pouted. The creature noticed Tianlan, and flew over… before glaring at her like she was a personal affront.

‘You’re too skinny,’ the tiny lord of the skies and rain decreed, as he gifted her a peach. Tainlan bit into it, her hands shaking a little, as she looked around at her domain. It was full of people.

An Ox with a wild-looking child on his back ventured in, the pair looking around curiously. The child’s eyes widened happily as he saw the woodcutting, and he dashed over as if mesmerized. The ox shrugged, ambling over as well.

She could see the faint outlines of a rabbit and a snake, almost ghosts… before they too solidified, bringing heat and warmth with them.

Finally came a giant boar, two Li high and yet not. A towering titan, and yet just the right size to lean against. His body was made of stone and wood; his eyes burned with golden light. There were three scars across his face, deep, permanent wounds, yet he was no lesser for the damage.

The great boar cantered over to where Tianlan was, safe in her Meiling’s lap. She sniffed, trying to hold back her emotions as the boar chuffed, nosing at her.

“...thank you,” Tianlan whispered as she hugged his snout. Tears spilled out from the corners of her eyes, and all was well.

After a moment that lasted an eternity, there was a house. Not some grand palace like in her memories, a fortress to hide away in; instead, it was a humble, comfortable home. The windows were large and brightly coloured. Carvings and painted images dotted the walls. It beckoned to her, promising warmth.

Tianlan could barely see through her drooping eyelids as her Meiling carried her in and laid her down.

The bed she lay in was a simple, rugged thing, yet stuffed to perfection. The cotton blankets were somehow more comforting than silk, smelling like the sun they had been dried in.

A fire that felt like the sun blazed in the hearth. She saw the sun-bound rabbit nodding her head at her work, and the snake inspecting windows that let in a gentle light.

Tianlan struggled to keep her eyes open through her exhaustion, as she stared at the people surrounding her.

There were no grasping hands. There was no pain. There was no ravening void, came to claim her again.

Hands fluffed her pillow. A cat rubbed her head against her cheek. Xiulan cheekily tapped their foreheads together, and her Connected Ones tucked her in.

“Sweet dreams,” her Jin said, as he laid his hand on her head.

Tianlan leaned into the touch.

Her eyes closed.

The first flakes of winter fell to the earth.

Beneath the falling snows, Tianlan slumbered in her humble home, warm and safe.