She smoothed her robe over her knees. “There is no target in meditation. No judgment. It is the peace, the connection and oneness with yourself that is the key.” She paused. “I sense your lifeforce is strong. However, it’s been suppressed since your childhood, which is why you have trouble grasping your magic. It was crudely done and would never have worked had you been older and trained properly. Meditation will help break the seal on your lifeforce, to unleash your abilities. But only if you let it.”
I stared at Teacher Daoming, my mind whirling. My mother had not wished my magic to strengthen. She and Ping’er must have done what they could to shroud my powers and conceal my existence. I bit my lip, clenching down hard. My mother wanted a quiet life for me, a happy one. After her decades of heartache and terror, she must have thought peace was the best gift she could give me. Perhaps I had wanted it, too—until this fire was lit in me to be more than I was, to be all that I could.
Teacher Daoming continued, “You have great potential. However, before you can harness your powers, you need to understand them. Before you can unleash your energy, you must learn how to grasp it. I hear you’re skilled in archery. Could you shoot as you do without becoming one with the bow?” She touched the side of my head gently. “Some knowledge beats in our hearts, while others are learned by the body and mind.”
Her words echoed those of my mother, a lesson I should have learned long before. Because some things came easily to me, I grew impatient at those which did not.
A wave of emotions swelled in me—shame at my conduct, gratitude for her patience. I shifted to my knees and stretched out my cupped hands, bowing low. “Teacher Daoming, I ask your forgiveness. I was impatient and resentful. Arrogant, in thinking I knew better. From now, I promise to follow your instructions to the best of my abilities.”
Her smile infused her face with sudden warmth. She was beautiful, I realized then, though not in the same way my mother was. One had to look a little closer to find the grace in her movements, the strength in her bearing, the delicacy of her features. Hers was a quieter beauty, but no less luminous once it was uncovered.
“I’m glad to hear that. My fan is getting worn out.” Without another word, she rose and walked away.
I choked back a laugh, even as I instinctively rubbed my arm. Perhaps Teacher Daoming was not as intimidating as I had thought. And perhaps, I might not be as terrible a student as I had feared.
My progress was quicker now that I no longer resisted the lessons. Still, it took weeks more before I gained sufficient skill in meditation to advance to using my powers—what I had both craved and dreaded since leaving my home.
According to Teacher Daoming, the lights I glimpsed swirling through me was my spiritual energy. While casting enchantments drained us of it, as water trickling from a bucket, it could be replenished through rest and meditation. Without this, our bodies would be no different from a mortal’s and our lives as frail as theirs.
“Never drain your energy, Xingyin,” she cautioned me.
“Why?”
“Trying to draw more than you possess will leave you unable to sustain your lifeforce—which is the core of your powers, the source of your energy.” She spoke slowly, holding my gaze to ensure I was paying attention. “That is death to an immortal.”
Cold sweat broke out over my palms. I had always thought learning to use my magic meant I would be strong. Fear, a distant thing of the past. Never did it occur to me that there would also be danger in using it.
“How does that happen?” I asked.
“Trying to cast too powerful an enchantment, trying to sustain one for too long, or trying to undo something you can’t.”
My thoughts flew to my mother and the spell which bound her. “Are some enchantments unbreakable?”
“All enchantments can be broken if you know how. If you’re strong enough. If you’re the right person to do it,” she said. “You don’t want to end up hurling your power into a void and getting too caught up to stop.”
I released a drawn-out breath. It was possible. That was what mattered. As for how, I would figure that out later.
In the beginning, I was unable to cast even the simplest enchantment—the lights still eluding my grasp. Yet as the weeks passed, I edged closer until I sensed a stirring deep within, like an unfinished chord on the cusp of harmony.
One evening while Liwei was having his bath, I found his tea had gone cold. While he would not have cared, it was a cool night, ideal for a warm drink. Closing my eyes, I searched inward for my energy—silver bright, glittering as stardust. It flickered as I reached out, struggling against that unseen force tugging me back. Sweat broke out over my brow, my fists clenching under the strain—but I shoved through, snapping the hidden restraint to grasp the lights. For a moment they wriggled in my hold like the slippery scales of a fish unwilling to be caught, but then something shifted deep within, imbuing me with a sense of oneness as though I had finally connected to some vital part of me. My skin tingled like I had been doused in ice water. This was no accident. The lights stilled, yielding to my command as a stream of glowing energy surged from my fingertips toward the teapot. Steam curled from the spout, the water roiling with heat. I laughed, giddy with the success of my first enchantment.