Yang woke before dawn and got ready quietly. He took a bath in the river. The cold water shocking him fully awake. Washing away the last remnants of sleep.
When he was done and clean, Yang put on his clothes. The tunic fit well and the boots were comfortable. He looked presentable.
Yang walked back to the village. The morning sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Painting everything in soft golden light.
He smiled and nodded back at people who greeted him. Old Widow Shen waved from her doorway. Yang waved back. A group of farmers heading to their fields called out morning greetings. Yang returned them warmly.
The normalcy of it all made his chest tight. This was home. These people were his people.
Yang walked into the Li household and sat down for breakfast. Uncle Li and all his sons were already there. The table was set and steam rose from bowls of porridge.
They ate together. Talking amongst themselves. Uncle Li mentioned the fields. Eldest brother discussed repairs needed on the storage shed. Second brother joked about something. Their voices a familiar comfort.
Yang ate quietly. Soaking in these last moments. Committing every detail to memory.
Finally, Yang stood as they cleaned up the table. He took hold of his pack. It was heavy but manageable. Filled with everything he'd need for the journey.
Two waterskins hung from the sides. Dried meat wrapped in cloth filled one compartment. Extra tunics and an extra pair of boots took up more space. Nuts and hardy bread that could last months filled another section. Food meant for long travel.
Yang also had a small pouch of tinctures and salves. Made by the village healers. For any injury or issue he might face on his journey to the town. The old healer woman had pressed them into his hands with tears in her eyes. "Be safe, child."
The past weeks, after the village found out about his intentions to leave, had been bittersweet. Everyone was sad but supportive.
Yang was surprised at their generosity of gifts. He kept what he could carry. But left many things here so the Lis could use them. He didn't need that much. Couldn't carry it all anyway.
The Li sons had given him a thick coat of wool. Yang knew they'd been having it created by an auntie. Paying her by helping in her fields. The coat had been meant as a gift for Uncle Li for New Years.
But since Yang was leaving, they'd decided to give it to him instead.
When they'd presented it, Yang had tried to refuse. "This is for your father. I can't take this."
But the brothers had insisted. Li Da's face firm. "You'll need it more than Father. You're traveling."
The coat was beautiful. Well-made and warm. Yang had hugged all three of them. Unable to speak past the lump in his throat.
Uncle Li had commissioned him a dagger. It was finer than anything Yang had ever owned. The blade was sharp and well-balanced. The handle wrapped in good leather. A proper weapon.
Considering his last knife had been made of stone and fashioned roughly in the forest, this dagger felt like treasure.
"Every man needs a good blade," Uncle Li had said gruffly when presenting it. "Especially one traveling so far."
Yang also had his bow on his back and a quiver full of arrows.
Yang had said his goodbyes to the villagers at last night's celebration. The whole village had gathered in the center. Food and drink spread out on tables.
The last few weeks, Yang had increased his hunting dramatically. Filled the whole village with more meat than they'd seen in years. Their work increased due to needing to butcher and dry the meat before it spoiled. But everyone was extremely happy.
Children ran around with full bellies. Adults talked and laughed. The atmosphere was festive despite the underlying sadness of farewell.
Yang was surprised at receiving so many gifts last night. Small things mostly. A new pair of socks knitted by an elderly woman. A small carving of a wolf from a woodworker. Dried fruit from various families. A lucky charm from Xiao Ming's mother, who'd cried while giving it to him.
He'd never had so many people care about him before. It was only ever Grandpa. Just the two of them against the world.
But here, Yang had found a whole village of people who cared whether he lived or died. Who wanted him safe and happy. Who would miss him when he was gone.
The realization had overwhelmed him and he was overcome with gratitude and grief in equal measure.
The time he'd spent in Yunxi Village was some of the best of his life. The warmth. The belonging. The simple joy of being part of a community.
The only thing that prevented his time here from being perfect was that Grandpa wasn't here. But Grandpa was dead. Would never be anywhere again.
Yang supposed there would be no perfect place for him anymore. Not without Grandpa to share it with.
He shook off the melancholy thought and came up to Uncle Li. Hugged him tightly. "Thank you for everything you've done for me. For taking care of me and providing for me. For treating me like a son."
Uncle Li hugged him back. His weathered hands gripping Yang's shoulders. "Xiao Yang, this is your home. You will always have a place here. Just like Li Da, Li Er, and Li San. You're my fourth son. Never forget that."
Yang's vision blurred. He nodded against Uncle Li's shoulder. Unable to speak.
He pulled back and hugged the eldest brother. Li Da patted his back roughly. "Safe journey, little brother. Don't do anything stupid."
Yang laughed wetly. "I'll try."
He hugged the second brother. Li Er smiled at him. "Come back and visit when you can. We'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too," Yang managed.
Li San stood quiet but close next to Yang. Their shoulders and arms grazing each other. Yang could feel the tension radiating from his friend. The barely contained emotion.
Yang went out of the house. Villagers were waiting outside to greet him and say goodbyes. So many faces. So much kindness.
Yang saw Elder Qingshan and went toward him. He bowed slightly in front of the old man. "Thank you for allowing me to stay here. For welcoming a stranger."
Elder Qingshan patted his back warmly. "No need to thank me. I didn't allow anything. You belonged here from the moment you saved little Xiao Ming. I just made it official."
Yang straightened. His throat tight with emotion.
He thanked everyone. Walking past them slowly. Accepting final well-wishes. Promises to remember him. Requests to return safely.
Yang turned to face the whole village. All these people who'd given him a home. A family. A place to heal.
"I hope I come back here again one day," Yang said. His voice carrying across the gathered crowd. "This village. These people. You've given me more than I can ever repay. I won't forget you. Any of you."
Several people were crying openly now. Old men nodding with misty eyes. Women dabbing at their faces with cloth. Children waving enthusiastically.
Yang's heart felt too big for his chest. Swollen with love and grief and gratitude.
He took a breath. Steadying himself.
Then Yang turned to Li San standing beside him. His best friend. His brother in all but blood.
"Ready?" Yang asked quietly.