With a crack, they reappeared in her bedroom at home. She stumbled, almost falling on to her bed before catching herself. It was so odd to be back here, in the room that was hers but had never been hers at the same time. The air was warmer here, she could even smell her mother’s cooking... or was that just her imagination? She inhaled and breathed in southern food, warm tropical air, a thousand things that meant home even if she couldn’t identify them. One more breath and she just relaxed even more. She realized vaguely, that one of those thousand things was the relative lack of pollution. She could actually breathe again, at home.
She hadn’t realized how much it would mean to be home. Even when she was in Guangzhou, she was still in Guangdong. It was still tropical, still warm; warm in a way that Beijing wasn’t. Certainly, the weather in Beijing was quite hot in the summer... but it wasn’t the same. She couldn’t explain it, it was just true.
She glanced around her room. Not much had changed. Her bed looked exactly like she left it, neatly and crisply made, and her desk and her chair were still in the same spot. There wasn’t even any dust on the furniture. Her new awards had been framed and put up along with a few more photos of her. She touched one of her in the middle of a dismount from the bars, her body in the middle of twisting, spinning through the air. That one is new. It was a good picture; the photographer had really captured her in the middle of flying. She wondered when it had been taken. It had to be recent, but she couldn’t tell when.
“I can’t... I can’t believe it,” she whispered, turning around again. She was home, really, actually home. She brushed the wall, feeling the paint underneath her fingertips. Suddenly something occurred to her. “What am I supposed to tell my parents? Beijing is thousands of kilometers away and it’s not like I can just leave for the weekend. Plus, I didn’t even come in through the front door! We just appeared in my room.”
Zhu-ge Liang gently placed a hand on her shoulder to interrupt her. “You will have to do what the children from Muggle families always must: tell them about magic.”
“And you think I can just waltz into the living room and do that?” Her tone was skeptical but her pupils were wide with genuine fear.
“I will be right there with you,” he said, and for some reason, that actually made her feel a little bit better. Sh wondered, vaguely, if he was casting spells on her.
“You better do a better job explaining to them than you did to me,” she muttered.
“That is why I am going to let you lead this conversation,” he pointed out.
She nodded and took a deep breath before pushing open her bedroom door. She could faintly hear the sound of the TV in the living room. It sounded like a competition show of some kind. Some judge was complaining about... something.
They walked together, slowly through the house. It was all familiar, but not. It was her home, but she couldn’t remember living here. Her feet knew how to go to the living room, but her head couldn’t remember it. The house wasn’t always this big was it? Finally they stopped in front of the door to the living room. Feng took a deep breath before slowly opened the door.
For a moment, she couldn’t even say anything. It was just too weird standing there with her mother sewing, her father smoking and everyone watching the TV. Her younger brother, Chun-yin was lounging across the couch. She blinked. It had been a year since she had seen him, hugged him good bye at the airport. He had gotten taller, bigger. It was almost like looking at a stranger. She cleared her throat, and when she finally spoke, her voice was a lot smaller and a lot younger then she wanted it to be. “Mommy? Daddy?”
Her mother dropped her sewing things and raced across the room to hold her. “Feng? How is this possible?”
A moment later, her father was beside her too, the cigarette he dropped burning a hole in the carpet. “Feng-feng, how did you get in? Why didn’t you tell us you had been allowed leave to come home? Did you have to take the bus all the way from Guangzhou? We could have picked you up. We have a car now, remember?”
How was she supposed to even begin to begin explaining? She had no idea where to start.
Her brother stood awkwardly in front of the couch, hands in his pockets, watching his parents with the sister that he only knew from her weekly phone calls and pictures. “Who’s he?” Chun-yin asked, suddenly.
Abruptly, her parents straightened and looked at the stranger in their midst. “Are you... one of Feng’s coaches?” her father asked, skeptically. Feng glanced back to Zhu-ge Liang. He was still wearing ridiculously old-style clothes. It was a different, but no less elaborate hanfu than the last time he had showed up. No wonder her father had been confused. Coaches always wore athletic gear: warm up pants, T-shirts, zip up jackets. No coach in their right mind would wear hanfu... ever. She corrected herself. Maybe, if a coach led them to multiple gold medal wins at the Olympics and he was to meet the Premiere, then maybe he would wear hanfu, but it still wasn’t likely. The politicians and their coaches still preferred to dress in crisp, dark Western style suit.
“I am not. Young Mistress Song, would you care to explain?”
Her parents looked even more confused after his old fashioned form of address. “Feng?” Song Bing, her father, asked faintly.
She sighed. “I don’t... actually have leave. The reason I could come anyway, and not get in through the front door... is through magic.”
“Magic?” her parents echoed in disbelief. Then they looked at each other briefly.
“She did... bounce,” her mother said softly, thinking of when her daughter had fallen but bounced instead of breaking her head. Her father just shook his head.
“Why should we believe that there is any such thing as magic?” her father demanded.
“You have seen it,” Zhu-ge Liang said in a tone that brooked no argument. “How else could we have come here without your seeing?” He pulled out a small wooden stick from a pocket inside his sleeve. He whispered a word, and a bouquet of flowers burst out. He handed them to Song Lin, Feng’s mother. She took them, hands trembling.
“Young Mistress Song also has the ability to do magic,” Zhu-ge Liang added, deciding to avoid the word ‘gift’. “She needs to go to school and learn to control her ability or it will end up controlling her.”
“She is already being trained for gymnastics. She is on the national team. She could go to the Olympics and represent our entire country,” her father protested.
“I understand your concern for your daughter’s future, Master Song, but you have nothing to be concerned about. The Southern School would provide your daughter with a full education and a complete scholarship to pay for everything, including travel expenses to and from your home during the vacation periods.” The headmaster’s voice was eminently reasonable and Song Feng hated it.
“Feng... would be able to come home?” her mother asked. “She would have periods of vacation where she could come home and stay with us?” Feng hated the way her mother asked that question. She knew that it was hard on her mother, her being away all the time, but she was practically begging the man, a stranger, for reassurance.
“Yes, we have three vacation periods. School begins a week after the Mid-Autumn festival, then runs until a week before the Winter Solstice. From the Winter Solstice to New Year’s, the students return home and are with their families. A week after New Year’s, the students return to school. Then for Qing Ming, the students are allowed to go home for a week. The third vacation period is from the Spirit Festival to Mid-Autumn.”
Everyone was silent after that long list. Feng was baffled. I guess magic people still organize their calendar on the moon and the old holidays. She would have to mark all the days on the current calendar so that she could get it straight.
“Yes,” her mother said suddenly. “Feng will go to your school.”
“What?” Song Feng demanded. “You don’t even know where the school is! You don’t even know anything about him!” Of course, she didn’t either, but she hadn’t agreed to go to the school yet either!
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “I know that I’m tired of you not being here for New Year’s, for the Mid-Autumn festival. I’m tired of our family not being whole. It’s been a year since we saw you last, Feng!”
“Mommy....” She couldn’t think of anything to say to her mother. She had never seen her mother cry, never. Not even when she left for Beijing. Her mother had just hugged her good-bye and told her to stay warm up in the northern capital. She turned to her father. “Daddy?”
Her father sighed. “You’ve put in a lot of time and effort into gymnastics and making the national team. If you want to stick with gymnastics, then I am not going to try and stop you. In the end, it is still your life.” He took a deep breath, ignoring his wife’s teary and accusing gaze. “But what are you going to do when you are too old to compete anymore?” He didn’t have to add that gymnasts were considered too old to compete by the time they were in their twenties. Most gymnasts were retired before they were twenty-two or twenty-three.
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.” The Party takes care of those who win, but what happens if I don’t win? Even if I make the team... if I don’t win...
“Allow me to fill in some of the details then,” Zhu-ge Liang said. “May I?” He gestured to the couch.
“Ah, of course. Please forgive our poor manners,” her father replied hastily. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, silencing the program which had still been playing in the background.
They all moved to the couch and the chairs. Feng sat next to her brother. The siblings eyed each other for a moment, getting used to one another’s presence again. He was six years old now. She had called home to wish him happy birthday and he had described all the delicious food their mother had made for him. She had cried afterwards, missing home so badly. She didn’t even know what to talk to him about. She had been even younger than him when she had left home.
“Very well then,” Zhu-ge Liang said after everyone had settled back into a seat. “My name is Zhu-ge Liang. I am the Headmaster of the Southern School, also known as the Dragon Pearl. It is the oldest and most prestigious school of magic in the Middle Kingdom.”
Silence greeted those assertions, so Zhu-ge Liang continued. “The Southern School is located in Guilin. The curriculum is designed to take eight years, though there are some exceptions. It is a boarding school, so students live at school when class is in session. As I mentioned before, in the case of Young Mistress Song, all expenses will be paid for by the school. Her books, her tuition, everything will be paid for. All we need is your permission.”
“And after your students graduate?” Song Bing, Feng’s father, asked.
“They find jobs in... various fields. In our government, in the bank, all kinds of positions,” Zhu-ge Liang responded carefully.
“In the magical world,” Song Feng pointed out. “I still won’t have any skills to get a normal job.”
“You will still have a job,” her mother pointed out. “And you would be able to come home during the vacations. Even when you work, you will be able to take vacation and come home to see us. Isn’t that right?” she asked Zhu-ge Liang.
“Yes, essentially all forms of employment offer some vacation time,” Zhu-ge Liang responded. “Particularly around the holidays.”
Feng turned away from her mother. “Take me back. I don’t need anyone to realize that I’m gone.”
“Alright.” The wizard took out a piece of silk from his robes. “You can contact me using this. Just write my name on it and we can arrange a meeting.” Her father took the piece of silk gingerly.
The wizard extended his hand to her again. He turned to her parents. “The existence of the magical world is a closely guarded secret. Telling anyone about the magical world will jeopardize your daughter’s admission to the Southern School, so please do not tell anyone. We have the ability to erase your memories, and I would not like to have to do that.”
Feng shivered. He never mentioned that before. She took the wizard’s hand and they disappeared with a crack.