Jun knelt in front of the pile of freshly turned dirt and the mound of heavy stones he’d piled on top. A breeze lifted the pungent smell of wet earth and brushed the back of his bent neck. It had been difficult to dig into the ground and lift rocks with one arm cradled against his body in a sling, but he’d ignored the admonitions that he should rest, along with all offers of help.
The task was one he had to finish himself.
When he was done, he searched out a flat rock from the riverbank, laid it at the base of the untidy monument, and used a sharp stone to scratch his own name into the surface.
Li Jun. The Guardian who never was.
Jun closed his eyes, letting the sound of the rushing river quiet his mind.
Yin Yue came up behind him. Jun sensed his footsteps slow, then stop. “I’ve heard the expression ‘digging your own grave,’” Yin said, “but this is the first time I’ve seen someone actually do it.”
Jun spoke without turning around. “I should be in Cheon, giving my father a proper burial and making offerings to him in the afterlife. I should be observing the mourning period. I couldn’t even do that for him.” Instead, strangers would put his father in the ground, in a place Jun might never be able to visit again.
He opened his eyes. The false memorial before him was humble, but every stone had been placed by his own hands, their weight carried in his soul. “I’ll never get a chance to atone, but the least I can do is bury the person I used to be. The person I don’t want to be anymore.”
Yin was silent for long enough that Jun assumed he’d left, but when he looked over his shoulder, the man was still there, staring down at Jun’s name on the stone.
No soldier was going to willingly disturb an angry spirit by violating a grave site unless Cobu showed up and ordered it, and that would take time. A little more time for them to get safely across the border.
Yin looked over to where Water and Lure sat together by the river, watching for any danger and waiting for Jun to be done. When they were together, the two women displayed the easy familiarity of a long partnership, appearing to communicate with glances and light touches more than words, dividing tasks with unspoken efficiency and always seeming to know where the other one was. However, while he’d been hauling rocks, Jun had seen them talking in low, heated tones. Lure’s tense body language and impatient pacing made him certain that the younger Aspect wasn’t entirely in agreement with her senior partner’s plan.
“I know they saved our lives,” Yin said, lowering his voice, “but they’re still Aspects of Virtue who answer to the Council in the East. They could be lying to us about their loyalties. For all we know, once we’re on the other side of the wall, we’ll be prisoners.”
Yin had a point. The two Aspects were powerful breathmarked fighters. Water, as they’d already seen, could use any style to overcome her foes, and Lure could hunt down anyone. Yin and Jun were injured, without allies, and knew nothing about where they were going.
Traveling with the Aspects and accepting their help meant being at their mercy. Was surrendering themselves to the designs of the East any better than being hunted in the West?
Jun nodded toward Water. “The first time she showed up in my life, she ruined it. She took my brother away and exiled me and my father. But she also gave us a chance when she didn’t have to. A chance to fix things if we could find a way.” Jun brought his gaze back to the mound of upturned earth, thinking of his father, who’d died without ever being able to make his way home. “If she’s offering that chance again, I’ll take it.”
“Find them, Jun.” His father’s last request of him.
I will, Baba. He should’ve said the words. Given his father this one thing. I promise.
We’ll see each other again, Sai. I don’t know if I’m ready, but I know it’s coming.
“If we cross the Snake Wall, we might never be able to cross back,” he said to Yin. “You don’t have to take that risk. I’m the one Cobu wants to make an example of. Maybe if you were to head south and lie low—”
“I thought you just buried the version of yourself that was a pigheaded fool,” Yin interrupted. “My old dreams are as dead as yours. I can’t pretend otherwise.” His voice was sharp but contained surprisingly little anger. Merely matter-of-fact acceptance. “You were right, back in that barn the other night. I’ve spent my life focused on one path forward. I believed if I worked hard enough, it would open up for me, wide and straight.”
Jun touched the makeshift headstone, running his fingers over the scratched characters of his name. The old Jun had believed the same thing. He would’ve said his way ahead was clear and all he had to do was climb along it to the top, where his destiny awaited.
“I can’t see any path clearly anymore.” Yin rubbed the forearm below his stump and gazed over Jun’s head. “All I know is that I won’t find a new one by hiding and licking my wounds. If Ren is on the other side of that wall, then that’s where I’ll go.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” With effort, Jun got to his feet. “Because there’s no one I’d rather have next to me in a fight than Yin the Claw.” He poked his old schoolmate in the chest. “Besides, if we find Ren, I need to tell her how badly you snore.”
Yin raised his left fist to Jun threateningly, then broke into a crooked smile and placed his hand on Jun’s uninjured shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I thought the old Li Jun was a bit of a prick myself. But I consider this new one a friend.”
Jun cracked a return smile. The fact that he felt the same way about Yin was a marvel that he wouldn’t have believed possible just a week ago. Sometimes fate tore loved ones apart. Sometimes it turned rivals into brothers. “Maybe we’ve been on a path together all along,” he mused. “One we couldn’t see at first but that’s revealing itself with each step.”
Yin groaned. “By the Blessed Consort, don’t tell me you’re going to become an insufferable philosopher now.”
Jun laughed and then winced in pain as together, they walked to where Water and Lure were waiting to lead them eastward.