Waterlilies

Chengyu ground the dried herbs with a rhythmic scrape of the mortar and pestle, his hands moving by rote as he pondered the formula for an ailment that had stumped him for days. The tiny apothecary room in Xiuqin's home was cluttered with bottles and jars, each labeled with meticulous care. A beam of light slanted through the window, casting dancing dust motes in the air. It was a solitary sanctuary, yet a prison of sorts, where time seemed to pool around his ankles like shackles.

"Chengyu!" The voice broke through his focus, a pebble disrupting the surface of a still pond. Lin Hu's silhouette filled the doorway, his grin as wide as the gap between the worlds. "You cannot spend all day mixing potions and talking to dried roots. Come out with me."

Chengyu hesitated, his fingers pausing mid-crush. He'd already stalled enough on soul-feeding yet unnecessary tasks, and spending the evening with someone he had no particular fondness for was rather unappealing. Still, he felt that, at some point, the man might be important to have as an ally, so he would refrain from being harsh.

"Sorry, I have work—"

"Work can wait," Lin Hu interrupted, already stepping into the room, the smell of pine and earth clinging to him. "You need fresh air, and I know just the place."

Before Chengyu could protest, Lin Hu grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the door with an infectious enthusiasm, but due to his rough nature, Chengyu felt that he was being dragged off to slaughter.

As they left the boundary of the village, the familiar scent of simmering broths and smoke gave way to the wild perfume of the forest. They were quickly venturing deeper into the woods, to a part he hadn't seen before.

"Where are we going?" Chengyu asked, his practical nature at odds with the sense of adventure tingling up his spine. Goodbye, evening of relabeling all of Xiuqin's supplies. He hated how boring he was becoming.

"Trust me," Lin Hu replied, leading them on a narrow path that weaved through the tall trees, ripping through underbrush until they arrived at a sight so unexpected that Chengyu found himself at a loss for words.

A pond lay before them, hidden like a secret treasure, its surface dotted with giant waterlilies that seemed to be waiting patiently for travelers such as themselves. The lilies were large enough to serve as green boats, their edges curling upward as if to cradle those who ventured upon them.

"Is this real?" he whispered, more to himself than to Lin Hu.

"Real and untouched," Lin Hu answered, stepping onto one of the oversized leaves with a confidence that belied the surreal nature of the scene. Leaning down, he retrieved two shoddy fishing rods. "Come on, it's perfectly safe. We'll ride these across to the best fishing spot you've ever seen."

Chengyu followed suit, a part of him surrendering to the peculiar charm of the place. The waterlily beneath him swayed gently, accommodating his weight as if it were made for this very purpose. They glided across the pond, the water whispering secrets as they passed, and despite himself, Chengyu felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Have you done this before?" he asked, glancing over at Lin Hu, who stood with the casual balance of someone well-versed in the ways of the wild.

"I come here on occasion," Lin Hu admitted, his eyes reflecting the cerulean sky above. "But never with company. I thought you might appreciate the escape."

"Escape..." Chengyu echoed, allowing the word to roll around in his mind. He looked back at the receding shoreline, where his responsibilities lay dormant, waiting for his return. Out here, with only the hum of insects and the call of birds for company, he could almost believe that he was someone else — a man without burdens, without the weight of two worlds pressing down upon him, ripping him in half.

"Thank you," Chengyu said sincerely, nodding towards Lin Hu. "For bringing me here."

"Think nothing of it," Lin Hu replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Fishing is better with friends."

And with that simple exchange, two souls, both bearing unseen scars, sailed effortlessly towards a shared respite on the backs of nature's own creations, beneath a sky that promised no judgment, only the freedom to breathe and be.

Suddenly, the line went taut and Chengyu's heart leapt, but as quickly as the excitement came, it dissipated; he had snagged his hook on a submerged log. With a sigh, he tried to dislodge it by pulling at different angles, his fingers fumbling clumsily with the rod. Fishing was not his forte, and the afternoon sun bore down upon him, illuminating his ineptitude in stark relief against the serenity of the pond.

Separating, Chengyu clambered onto his own separate boat. Lin Hu tossed over a fishing rod and tin containing bait. Chengyu struggled to thread and cast his line, nearly attacking Lin Hu's face.

"Relax your wrist," Lin Hu called out from a few lilypads over. With a single swift motion, he cast his own line effortlessly into the water. "Let the rod do the work."

"Easy for you to say," Chengyu muttered under his breath, but his frustration was tempered by the tranquility surrounding them. The water was a mirror reflecting an endless sky, and around them, giant waterlilies bobbed gently like a field of green and pink suns.

"Here, let me help."

Suddenly, Lin Hu stood up, destabilizing his makeshift boat. He reached towards the edge and then—splash! He was in the water, causing ripples to race across the surface.

"Damn it," he grumbled, resurfacing with a sheepish grin. "Dropped my bait tin."

As Lin Hu swam towards the submerged glint of metal, the water around him began to swirl ominously. A whisper of movement, a subtle shift of current, and there it was — a water spirit, its form translucent and shifting, rising with a grace that belied its apparent anger.

"Lin Hu, get back!" Chengyu shouted, his voice breaking the hush of the natural world.

Lin Hu, sensing the danger, paddled backwards, but the spirit moved faster, tendrils of liquid reaching out like arms eager to embrace.

"Stay still," Chengyu instructed, more out of panic than any real strategy. His mind raced for the ridiculous, grasping at straws of ritual and superstition he'd heard in passing. "I… I exorcise you!"

With a flourish, he grabbed a handful of bait from his tin and snatched wildflowers from the bank. Stuffing the flowers with the strange bait mince, he tossed them into the water, their petals spreading out like a pastel barrier. He started to sing—a nonsensical tune, off-key and improvised, more of a chant really—and slapped the water with the flat of his hand, creating splashes that sent droplets flying like shards of liquid light.

"By the moon's wane and the sun's fierce burn, be gone, foul spirit!" he yelled, less confident than he hoped to sound. "Heed! Heeeed!"

To his astonishment, and certainly due to sheer coincidence, the spirit hesitated, its form rippling with uncertainty as it disinterestly picked at his bait mince and flower mix. Almost as if deciding it simply wasn't worth it, with a final swirl of the water, it vanished beneath the surface, leaving nothing but a few disturbed lilies in its wake.

I can't believe that's still working, he thought, out of breath, both from extortion and amazement.

Lin Hu clambered back onto his lilypad, dripping and wide-eyed. "Chengyu, I... I owe you my life."

"Whatever," Chengyu replied, trying to catch his breath and maintain some semblance of composure. Inside, he reeled at the absurdity of what had just occurred. He really ought to make a career of this; he would make a fortune. "Just don't drop anything else."

"Indeed," Lin Hu said, laughter bubbling up despite the lingering adrenaline. "Perhaps I should stick to hunting on land. Or better yet, leave the spirits to you."

"Let's hope that won't be necessary," Chengyu said dryly, glancing at the now calm waters. He shivered, not from cold but from the realization that he could indeed 'work with this' — with Lin Hu's newfound sense of debt, and perhaps, with his own burgeoning belief that, sometimes, nonsense could be as powerful as knowledge.

***

The sun dipped toward the horizon, casting a warm glow over the pond that turned the water into a canvas of molten gold and copper. Chengyu watched as Lin Hu's silhouette danced across this shimmering stage, leaping from one giant lilypad to another with the grace of a newborn calf with some type of bone disease.

"Careful! That one's a slippery devil," Chengyu called out, his voice laced with mirth.

Lin Hu's laughter echoed back, buoyant and free. "Worry not, oh great exorcist! I've bested spirits; what is a mere lilypad or two?"

Chengyu shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. He had never intended to become friends with the man who'd been possessed on the hunt, yet here they were. Their evening had transformed from fishing — a task at which Chengyu was spectacularly unskilled — to foraging for medicinal herbs that dotted the lily pads like hidden treasures.

"Got it!" Lin Hu triumphantly held up a cluster of star-shaped leaves, their edges tinged with the faintest hue of violet.

"Throw it here," Chengyu instructed, extending his arm. The leaves arced through the air before he caught them neatly in his palm. "This will make a fine addition to my salves."

"Your turn," Lin Hu challenged, gesturing to a nearby pad crowned with a bloom of red berries.

With a tentative step, Chengyu embarked on the makeshift path of floating foliage. Each leap sent ripples cascading across the pond, distorting their reflections into wavy phantasms. He focused on the rhythm of his breath and the flex of muscles, moving with more agility than he credited himself for.

"Is this how a fish feels?" Chengyu wondered aloud, the thrill of the game igniting a spark within him that he hadn't felt since arriving in this strange world.

"Like a fish? No, you would be more akin to a frog, my friend," Lin Hu teased, his eyes alight with playful energy.

"Then watch this frog fly," Chengyu retorted, springing off a particularly buoyant pad, snatching the berries mid-leap, and landing with a splash that sent water droplets high into the air.

"Ha! Not bad, not bad at all," Lin Hu applauded, clapping his hands together in genuine admiration.

As the sky deepened to a velvet blue, they continued their game until missteps became inevitable. A misjudged distance, a moment's hesitation, and both men found themselves plummeting into the cool embrace of the pond, laughter mingling with the sounds of their descent.

Sputtering and still chuckling, they settled onto adjacent lilypads, lying back as the exertion of their antics gave way to tranquility. Above them, the first stars twinkled into existence, and fireflies began their nightly ballet, weaving patterns of light against the twilight.

"Would you look at that..." Chengyu murmured, his heart swelling as he took in the sight. His mind drifted to memories of his own world, where beauty was often overshadowed by duty and expectation, where the most nature he reveled in was the weeds busting through concrete and that potted plant he'd nursed back to life. Here, with Lin Hu by his side and nature's spectacle unfolding before them, Chengyu felt a contentment he could scarcely put into words.

"Never seen anything quite like it," he confessed, the awe in his voice coloring the stillness around them.

"Sometimes," Lin Hu said softly, turning his head to meet Chengyu's gaze, "it takes getting lost to truly find wonders like these. Quite literally, in my case. See, I happen not to be the most coordinated on hunts, and wandering has let me discover incredible sights."

Chengyu nodded, unable to articulate the gratitude he felt for this unexpected adventure — for the peace it brought him, for the companionship that was slowly taking root in his heart. And as the evening deepened, with only the sound of water lapping against the giant lilies and the distant call of night creatures, Chengyu allowed himself to simply be, enveloped in the enchantment of a world he once believed he could never belong to.