Part 2: Threads of Innocence
As Su Yan grew from a toddling infant to a spirited girl, the bond between the Li and Su families deepened into something unbreakable, marked by shared milestones, overlapping holidays, and the kind of everyday chaos that only neighbors who are practically family can create. Joint birthday celebrations became a cherished tradition, blending the Li's structured elegance with the Su's joyful, boisterous energy. On Yan's third birthday—which doubled as Jiang's eighth—the cul-de-sac buzzed with activity. Red and gold balloons fluttered from both porches, symbolizing luck and prosperity. The backyard party featured a massive cake shaped like a dragon, courtesy of Su Jing's culinary flair and Li Mei's insistence on extra frosting.
"Yán-Yán, blow out the candles with Jiang-gē!" Su Lan cooed, lifting her daughter onto a stool so she could reach.
Yan, in a frilly pink dress, giggled as Jiang—already tall for his age and wearing the serious expression he'd mastered by eight—leaned in beside her. "Make a wish, little one," he said, voice steady and calm, like he was teaching her something important.
Ming clapped enthusiastically from the side, shouting, "Wish for more video games! Or ice cream! Or both!"
The families cheered as the candles went out in a puff of breath—Li Hao snapping photos with his old digital camera, Su Lan serving mooncakes, and Grandpa Li Wei watching with quiet pride. Grandma Li Hua leaned toward Grandma Su Mei and murmured, "See how Jiang softens around her? Like the dragon guarding its pearl."
By the time Yan turned six, her energy was boundless. She often chased after her brother and Jiang like a determined shadow, pigtails bouncing as she ran across the shared backyard. One summer afternoon in the park near their homes, the trio played an endless game of tag amid the maple trees.
"Wait for me, Míng-gē! Jiāng-gē!" Yan panted, small legs pumping furiously.
Ming, eleven now and full of bravado, laughed over his shoulder. "Catch us if you can, squirt!"
But Jiang slowed subtly, letting her tag him first. He stopped, hands on knees, pretending to be winded. "Got you," she beamed, triumphant, and he ruffled her hair with a rare, gentle smile. "Good job, Yán."
Back home, as they sat on the porch sharing popsicles, Li Mei whispered to Li Wei, "See that? He favors her without realizing. The boy who never smiles for anyone else… except her."
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By the time Yan turned eight, the cul-de-sac had become a small universe of childhood memories. The maple tree in the shared backyard bore witness to scraped knees, secret forts, and endless summer games. Jiang, now thirteen, had grown taller and quieter, his disciplined nature making him seem older than his years. He was already a standout in his martial arts class, handsome, serious and focused, the kind of boy teachers praised and classmates admired from afar.
One crisp fall afternoon, after school let out early, Yan raced home from her elementary school and found the backyard unusually crowded. Ming had invited a few friends over, and Jiang—home from his after-school training—was helping set up a makeshift basketball court with old crates and a hoop nailed to the garage. A group of girls from Ming and Jiang's middle school had tagged along, giggling and chattering as they "helped" by mostly standing around looking pretty.
Yan paused at the edge of the yard, clutching her backpack straps, watching the scene with growing unease. One girl—tall, with styled highlighted hair and a confident laugh—kept finding excuses to stand close to Jiang. She touched his arm while pointing at something, laughed too loudly at his quiet responses, and flipped her hair in that way Yan had seen on TV shows.
Something hot and unfamiliar twisted in Yan's chest.
She dropped her bag and marched straight over.
The girl was mid-sentence—"So, Jiang, are you coming to the school dance next month? Everyone's going!"—when Yan shoved between them.
"Jiang gege is mine!" Yan declared loudly, small hands on her hips, voice ringing across the yard.
The backyard froze.
Ming choked on his water. The other boys stared. The girls' mouths dropped open. Jiang blinked, stunned.
The tall girl recovered first, laughing. "Aw, that's cute. Your little sister's protective."
But Yan wasn't laughing. Her cheeks were red, eyes shining with angry tears. "He's not yours to play with! He's mine!"
Ming recovered enough to tease. "Whoa, Yan-Yan! Possessive much?"
Li Mei, who had come out with snacks, frowned. "Yan, that's not polite. Apologize."
Su Jing appeared behind her, chuckling. "Let her be, Mei. She's just staking her claim. It's her right as little sister."
Grandpa Li Wei, watching from the porch with Grandma Li Hua, exchanged a knowing glance. Grandma Li Hua smiled softly. "The dragon recognizes its pearl."
Jiang knelt down to Yan's level, expression gentle. "Hey, little one," he said quietly, ignoring the audience. "I'm not going anywhere. And I won't look at other girls, okay? So you don't have to worry."
Yan sniffled, wiping her eyes. "Promise?"
"Promise." He held out his pinky. She hooked hers around it, small and serious. He took her, got her backpack and walked with her to inside the house.
Ming's friends all started teasing Jiang for being so sweet to his sister when he is famous at school for being serious and unyielding.
Later Jiang joined them but whenever any girls tried to come too close he would politely move away - "Sorry, my little sister is already upset today and I don't want to upset her more, if it's not urgent let's talk at school tomorrow".
Later, after everyone left and the backyard quieted, Jiang found Yan sitting alone on the porch steps, hugging her knees. He sat beside her without a word.
She looked up at him, voice small. "I didn't like them looking at you."
He ruffled her hair gently. "I know. But you're the only one who gets to be mad about it, okay? My little sister's got dibs."
She smiled, tiny and relieved. "Okay, Jiāng-gē."
He felt something shift inside him—protective, fierce, deeper than he understood. Her tears had cracked something open in his chest, and he didn't know why they hurt so much.
Grandpa Li Wei, watching from the kitchen window, murmured to Grandma Li Hua, "They're bound. The Tiger and the Dragon. It's already begun."
Three years later, on the night of Yan's tenth and Jiang's fifteenth birthday party, the backyard glowed with string lights and laughter. Ming, now tall and handsome and newly confident, had brought his first real girlfriend—Lina, a sweet girl from his high school drama club with bright eyes and an easy smile.
Yan watched them curiously. She was starting to understand dating from school gossip and TV shows, but seeing her brother hold hands with someone felt strange. Still, Lina was kind—she braided Yan's hair and let her try on her lip gloss. "You're gonna break hearts one day, Yan-Yan," Lina teased.
Yan giggled, happy and just thought her stupid irritating brother was lucky to find such a lovely girlfriend.
Then Ming's and Jiang's friends arrived—loud, teenage boys and couple of girls who filled the yard with energy. One girl was noticeable—pretty, confident, with glossy hair and a knowing smile. She immediately gravitated toward Jiang, who stood near the grill helping his dad flip burgers.
Lina leaned close to Yan, whispering conspiratorially. "See that girl? She confessed to Jiang last month- nothing happened of course. He's like an ice prince at school—never dates, super polite, super hot but even more super cold. Sooo many girls want him - but he wouldn't even look their way"
Yan's stomach dropped. She stared as the girl laughed at something Jiang said, touching his arm lightly. Jiang smiled politely—nothing more—but Yan felt a hot, blinding wave of jealousy crash over her.
Why did it hurt so much? She hadn't cared when Ming started dating. But seeing someone else near Jiang felt wrong, like someone touching something that belonged to her.
She remembered her last outburst when she was 8- she had gotten such a good scolding from her usually nice mom and even a warning from her pampering dad- 'Jiang and your brother are now growing up, they're teenagers and..and..and teenagers will date, kiddo, you've got to deal with it. I know he is your favorite heroic brother but don't make his school lives harder by shaming him before his friends!' She couldn't yell at the girl or even claim any rights to her favorite brother - she was now at an age where she knew what lines a younger sister shouldn't cross in her brother's life.
Her eyes tracked them all night—every smile, every casual touch. She was partly relieved when Jiang barely noticed the girl, answering in short sentences, always drifting back to the family table; but she was also a bit sad, she now felt the barrier their ages created where she can no longer climb up her brother's back.
Later, when the party quieted and most guests had left, Jiang found Yan sitting alone under the maple tree, knees drawn up.
He sat beside her. "You were watching me a lot tonight."
She looked up, cheeks suspiciously wet. "That girl... she likes you."
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Yeah. So?"
Yan's voice was small but honest. "So - nothing... Just Lina-jie said she wanted to date you. ."
Jiang smiled, 'If Lina said that, then she also said we are not dating right? So are you like this because..your Ming-gege is dating?'
Yan whispered, 'No I like Lina-jie. I just thought.. everyone dated by 15, so may be you're going to'
He studied her for a long moment. "Hmmm...What would you have done if I'd dated her?"
She didn't answer—just looked at him with sad, deep helpless eyes that pierced straight through him.
Something in Jiang's chest twisted. Her helpless expression hurt more than he expected—like a bruise he didn't know he had. He couldn't stand it.
"Hey," he said softly, tilting her chin up. "I'm not dating anyone. Your Ming gege has lots of time but I don't. And even if I did... I wouldn't. Not right now."
Her face brightened instantly. "Really?"
"Really." He smiled—rare, genuine, the kind that made his eyes crinkle. "Happy now, little dragon?"
She beamed, throwing her arms around him. "Yes!"
Jiang didn't think much about his words to Yan; if someone asked why he cared so much to promise not to date at an age where dating was almost a ritual, he would have said that it didn't matter anyways - he was too busy with martial arts trainings and competition and wouldn't have anyways had time or interest to date, so making a promise to cheer up his little sister wasn't any sacrifice. He never investigated his own strong reaction to her tears- in his mind, it was a very normal brotherly reaction.
They rejoined the remaining guests—laughing, eating leftover cake. Jiang's laughter rang out once or twice—clear, unguarded, startling everyone. Grandpa Li Wei exchanged a knowing look with Grandma Li Hua. Ming's friends nudged each other. "Dude never laughs like that," one whispered.
But Jiang didn't notice. He was too busy watching Yan steal another piece of cake, her smile brighter than the string lights overhead.
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The dynamic began to shift as Jiang, at sixteen, prepared to leave for his two-year intensive martial arts training at a monastery in China's Wudang Mountains. The decision had been long in the making, rooted in Grandpa Li Wei's insistence on deepening his roots in traditional wushu. "It's time, Jiāng," Grandpa had said solemnly over dinner one evening, eyes fierce with pride. "The monastery will forge you into the man you're meant to be—disciplined, unyielding, like the ancient warriors."
Jiang nodded, his ascetic nature embracing the challenge, though a quiet dread tugged at him as he packed his bags.
The farewell hit hardest with Yan, who at eleven was still a wide-eyed girl with boundless energy, seeing Jiang not just as her brother's best friend but as a heroic, almost god-like figure. He had always been her shield—scaring off bullies at the park, helping with homework when Ming was too distracted, or sneaking her extra mooncakes during festivals.
The day before his flight, she cornered him in the backyard, her small hands clutching his sleeve. "Jiāng-gē, you can't go! Who's gonna protect me from the big kids at school? Or tell me stories about dragons?" Her voice cracked, tears welling up as she buried her face in his shirt.
Jiang knelt to her level, expression softening in a way it rarely did for anyone else. He saw her only as a little sister then—a pint-sized version of Ming, all mischief and innocence. Indulgently, he ruffled her hair and pulled a small jade pendant from his pocket, a simple carving of a phoenix he'd bought just for her.
"Here, Yán-Yán. This will keep the dragons watching over you while I'm gone. And I'll be back before you know it—stronger, so I can teach you some moves myself."
She sniffled, clutching the pendant like a lifeline. "Promise you'll write? Or call?"
"Every week," he assured, though the monastery's strict rules would make that impossible. "And when I come back, we'll practice together. You'll be my first student."
She hugged him tightly, and he held her for a long moment, surprised at how much it hurt to let go.
As the families gathered at the airport—Li Hao clapping his son on the back, Su Lan wiping tears, and Ming punching Jiang's arm with forced cheer—Yán's devastation lingered, her small figure waving frantically until he disappeared through security.
Life at the Wudang monastery was a crucible of discipline, far removed from North York's comforts. Days began before dawn with meditation on mist-shrouded peaks, followed by grueling hours of forms—taijiquan flows giving way to explosive baguazhang strikes. Meals were sparse, vegetarian fare eaten in silence; evenings devoted to studying ancient texts on qi and philosophy. Jiang thrived in the ascetic rigor, his body hardening into lean muscle, his mind sharpening like a blade.
Yet, amid the isolation, confusion crept in. In quiet moments—gazing at the starry skies or during exhaustive training when his thoughts wandered—he found himself missing not his parents' steady presence, nor Ming's camaraderie, nor even his grandfather's guidance.
It was Yán's laughter that echoed in his mind, her bright eyes and the way she'd look up to him with unwavering trust.
"Why her?" he'd wonder, surprised and unsettled, pushing the thoughts away as mere homesickness. Letters home were rare, but when he wrote, he'd inquire about her subtly—"How's Yán doing in school?"—rationalizing it as concern for the family next door.
Two years later, Jiang's training concluded a day earlier than expected, and he seized the opportunity to return home without delay. Burning with an eagerness he rationalized as homesickness, he caught the earliest flights, traveling without rest to surprise his family—and, though he wouldn't admit it, to see Yán sooner. Communication had been sparse; his mobile sent back with his father during a visit, he'd only managed brief dial-up calls every three months from the monastery. He had no idea how everyone looked now, picturing Yán as the same little girl he'd left behind.
(End of Chapter 1, Part 2)