It’s the tuft of grey and white that does it.
Jin Ling looks at the tuft of fur in his hand and suddenly he’s crying.
It hadn’t been a surprise. Not really. Fairy was a spiritual dog from a prestigious kennel with an impressive pedigree, and he’d always known she had the potential to live a long life. But 19 years was a lot even for a spiritual dog and he’d started to allow himself to think about the life after her.
It had been hard. She’d been a part of his life for so long; she’d seen him through the loneliness of Koi Tower, the tumultuous years of adolescence when he hadn’t known who he was and where he came from, the times when he and jiujiu screamed at each other because if they didn’t scream, they’d cry, and neither of them wanted it.
She’d been there when da-jiu came back.
She’d been there when he’d become Sect Leader Jin at a way too early age, helping him, curling next to him during nights when he couldn’t sleep for the anxiety and terror of not making it, of not being good enough, of disappointing the memory of his parents.
Fairy had been the one to introduce him to his wife. Literally. She’d run away to follow a lead or the scent of something delicious and he’d raced after her, bumping into a young woman when he rounded the corner.
Fairy had been the one to listen to his stammering apologies, laughing at him with her mouth wide open, eyes scrunched into slits, tongue lolling out of her mouth with mirth. She’d been his patient audience when he’d hesitantly spelled out the words he wanted to say to Xing-er and she’d been there when Xing-er had rolled her eyes, scoffed, and told him, ”I thought you’d never ask!”
It’s been a month and somehow, there’s still fur. On his robes, on his shoes, in between the pages of his favorite book. Jin Ling walks to his desk, picks up a brush, and stops to stare at the long, white hair attached to it.
He can’t stop crying.
The brush drops from his hand with a clatter and smears ink on his papers and his robes but he doesn’t notice and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. Instead, he leans his elbows on his desk, buries his face in his hands, and tries to breathe.
Some while later, he doesn’t hear the door open but he feels small hands tug at his robes.
”Baba?” A-Lu asks, gazing worriedly at him with her big, round eyes. ”Why baba cry?”
Jin Ling swallows and blinks several times to clear his eyes. ”Baba is sad,” he says in a choked voice. ”Baba misses Fairy very much.”
”Oh,” A-Lu says. Her lip starts to wobble. ”A-Lu miss Fairy,” she says in a sob, and he picks him up and hugs her tight, both fiercely glad Fairy was loved and intensely sad that A-Lu is already familiar with the loss of a loved one.
Fairy’s wonder at Xing-er's swelling stomach and the life growing within had been a delight. She’d known almost as soon as Xing-er herself, poking at her then-flat belly with insistence and a soft ”Woof?”
”How?” Xing-er had asked, fondly exasperated. ”I barely know, how does she know!”
Jin Ling, overcome with the news, terrified and expectant and humbled, had stroked Fairy’s head and scratched her behind the ear, right on the good spot that never failed to prompt her to make funny faces. ”She’s just that smart, aren’t you?” he’d said, burying his face in the thick fur of her neck for a moment.
Fairy had been there through the pregnancy, propped Xing-er up when she was exhausted from throwing up so much, and later guarding her every step when she slowed down. Fairy had been the first one to see the newborn A-Lu and that was purely because she’d pushed herself in, nearly tripping Jin Ling in the doorway. She’d hopped to lean her forepaws on the bed and carefully took a sniff, then looked at Xing-er and then at Jin Ling and let out a quiet huff as if letting them know they’d done well and she was satisfied.
A-Lu hadn’t been alone for a moment since her birth. Fairy had been there, guarding her sleep, helping her roll over, patiently standing still when A-Lu gripped the fur in her neck and hauled herself to stand up. She’d been there when A-Lu had learned to walk and then run. Every single step.
Jin Ling had realized she’d grown too old to accompany him to occasional night-hunts he managed to sneak out for but it was okay. Fairy had clearly chosen her new duty and was embracing it with all her big, warm heart.
Jin Ling had known she’d grown old.
He’d known they were running out of time.
And it still came as a surprise.
A-Lu falls asleep in his arms and he takes several heaving, shuddering breaths to get himself under control. He knows it won’t fool anyone but luckily, Fairy had been everyone’s favorite and he knows his family isn’t the only one who has shed tears and shared fond stories about her.
Xing-er is dozing on the daybed in their quarters when he enters and even though he tries to be quiet, she wakes when he places A-Lu next to her. She’s often tired and her big belly is making her easily annoyed but they know it won’t be long until A-Lu’s didi or meimei is here.
He only wishes Fairy was here to greet them.
The thought makes his eyes blur again and he bites his lip to stifle his sobs.
”Oh, Rulan,” Xing-er says. ”I miss her too.”
He falls on his knees next to the bed and leans forward to press his face against her belly, feels his child kick him in the face, and huffs a wet laugh through the tears.
”Our bed is too clean,” Xing-er says softly, brushing her fingers through his hair.
”I found her hair on my favorite brush,” he says.
She snorts. ”That’s nothing. I found some in my rouge. The one I opened the first time yesterday.”
”Turning around in bed doesn’t feel like turning around on a beach,” he says, smiling through his tears.
”And now you can’t hear me walking without the sand crunching under my feet,” she says.
He sighs. ”All that sand…you were so annoyed by it in the beginning.”
She lets out a disagreeing sound and he laughs again. It helps, a little.
The pain is still there but he can breathe easier.
When it happened—
When it happened, Jin Ling had barely returned from a night hunt that had taken a couple of days. It was early morning and he’d flown through the night to get back home by the time A-Lu woke up.
Fairy didn’t come greet him when he opened to door to their quarters.
”Fairy?” he called, frowning a bit. ”Hey, girl, where are you?”
As he walked further in, he saw her lying on a soft rug, tiredly wagging her tail a couple of times. Her ears drooped a bit like when she was tired but something about her was off.
”What’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling next to her and ruffling her fur. She laid her head on his knee and closed her eyes, making his unease grow.
”She was subdued the whole time you were gone,” Xing-er said with a frown. ”I took her for a short walk in the gardens last night and she stopped several times to rest. She’s old but…”
But not that old, Jin Ling thought. Fairy was in good shape for her age and had been a happy companion for several long walks in the woods just outside Koi Tower, the latest a day before Jin Ling had left for his night hunt.
With a frown, he rested his hand on her neck and took her in. She didn’t look like she was in pain but she almost never did. She was breathing more heavily than usual, though.
And suddenly, Jin Ling was very, very afraid.
”Call a healer!” he called over his shoulder. When a startled guard peeked in, he added, ”It’s for Fairy. Something’s wrong!”
”Yes, Sect Leader!” the guard said and hurried off.
As he waited, he leaned over her, trying to keep calm. In the background, he heard Xing-er’s hushed voice ordering the nanny to take A-Lu away, and a moment later, she knelt next to him and reached out to hold his hand.
The healer arrived, took in the scene, and said, ”Sect Leader, you know I’m not an animal healer.”
”Yes, yes, but you can tell if there’s something wrong, right?” he said. ”Or if she’s—” his voice broke. ”Dying?”
The healer inclined his head and knelt, took Fairy’s front paw, and closed his eyes. A short moment later, he let out a heavy sigh, and gently let go of her paw.
”No,” Jin Ling said.
The healer shook his head. ”There’s massive internal bleeding in her stomach area,” he said and then added, gently, ”Her heart has been working very hard to keep her here, waiting for you to come home to say goodbye.”
”No!” Jin Ling pleaded, leaning over her. ”Girl, Fairy, why didn’t you tell me?”
She thumped her tail and raised her head, just enough to lick at the tears on his cheek.
”Isn’t there anything—?”
”I’m sorry, Sect Leader,” the healer said quietly.
Jin Ling felt his face twist and for a moment, he thought he should try to keep himself at least in some way under control—and then he remembered that he was in his rooms, he was with his wife and the healer who had always had treats for Fairy.
He buried his face in her fur, drew in a shuddering breath, and let her fur absorb his tears like so many times before. She huffed once, thumped her tail once more, and then—
Nothing.
She was gone.
There’s a small memorial plaque on the Jin Ancestral Shrine just for Fairy. No one had batted an eye when Jin Ling had commissioned it, and every time he visits, there’s incense burning and a handful of her favorite treats next to the plaque.
”A-Biao took his first steps today,” Jin Ling says. ”He would’ve learned sooner if you’d been here to teach him.”
He brushes a hand over his robes and stops when he sees a long, white-and-grey hair twined into the fabric. With a huff, he pries it away, raises it to his lips, and blows.
The hair swirls and twirls and for a moment, he’s viscerally reminded of Fairy when she was young and had her boosts of unhinged running around. The thought hurts but it also makes him smile.
The hair bobs once, twirls once, and floats away.