Qiao Zhi stopped walking and turned toward her mother. For a moment she looked younger than she usually did, with the bright, stubborn eyes of the child who had once followed Xan Min around the training ground, insisting that she could learn a sword form before she was tall enough to hold the practice blade properly. She stepped forward and wrapped both arms around her mother.
Xan Min stiffened in surprise, then returned the embrace. She rested her chin lightly against Qiao Zhi's hair, her hand settling between her daughter's shoulder blades. They stood there beside the old pine tree, with the late afternoon sun filtering through the branches and the distant sounds of Mount Hua continuing around them.
"I'll come back," Qiao Zhi said quietly.
"You had better. Your mother has already planned enough food for a small army, and I refuse to let her waste it."
Qiao Zhi laughed against her shoulder. "That is a very moving expression of love."
