Jean Genie
Copyright© 2026 by Rachael Jane
Chapter 118: The Journey South
Singapore 1898–1902
The day Zhao Lian leaves Shangping is warm and bright, with sunlight spilling across the terraced fields and the camphor tree casting long shadows across the courtyard. She stands at the foot of the hill temple, her satchel packed, her hair braided neatly, her jacket freshly washed. Her new husband, Chen Wei, waits beside her ... a young merchant with steady eyes and a quiet manner, carrying a wooden trunk filled with their belongings.
The villagers gather to see them off. Zhao Wen stands near the stone bridge, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression composed but heavy. The elder monk offers a blessing. Rebecca is long gone, but her presence lingers in the way the villagers speak of the foreign scholar who lived among them for five years. Zhao Wen received a letter confirming Rebecca’s safe arrival in Evergreen Valley, and describing her joyful reunion with her parents and brothers.
I drift beside Zhao Lian, sensing the Solar fragment’s faint hum from her wrist. The resonance is soft, like a young vine seeking something to climb. She feels it too. She can talk to me, and summon me in both ethereal and corporeal form, but so far she hasn’t used the bracelet’s magic to grant wishes. Like Rebecca, she values me as a companion and adviser rather than a magical servant.
She touches the bracelet lightly. “Are you ready?” she whispers.
I pulse gently. ‘Yes.’
She smiles ... a small, quiet smile ... then turns toward the path that leads out of Shangping.
The journey south begins with a river boat ... smaller than the one Rebecca travelled on three years earlier, but sturdy and well-kept. Chen Wei helps Zhao Lian aboard, placing their trunk beneath the canvas awning. The boatman pushes off with a long pole, guiding them into the slow current of the Mei River.
Zhao Lian sits near the bow, her satchel beside her, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She watches the shoreline drift past ... bamboo groves, terraced fields, small shrines tucked beneath trees. She has lived in Shangping her entire life, and she has never travelled beyond Meixian. The world feels larger now, wider, filled with possibilities she cannot yet name.
I drift beside her, sensing her pulse steady. She isn’t afraid. She is curious.
Chen Wei sits beside her, his posture relaxed. “We will reach Guangzhou in two days,” he says. “From there, we take a steamer to Singapore.”
Zhao Lian nods. “I’ve never seen the ocean.”
Chen Wei smiles. “You will see it soon.”
The river carries them south, winding through valleys and villages. At night, the boat ties to simple docks, and Zhao Lian sleeps on a straw mat, listening to the river breathe beneath the hull. She dreams of spirals, crescents, and distant winds ... not visions, but impressions, faint and shifting. I drift near her, sensing the bracelet’s fragment hum faintly. It isn’t guiding her yet. It is simply listening.
Guangzhou is louder than she expected ... crowded streets, shouting vendors, foreign buildings rising along the riverbank. Chen Wei leads her through the bustling markets, past stalls selling spices, silk, and carved wooden charms. She watches everything with wide eyes, absorbing the colours, the sounds, and the scents.
They stay two nights in a small guest house near Shamian Island. Zhao Lian sits by the window each evening, her notebook open, copying the tetrad diagrams Rebecca taught her. She draws the crescent, the carved tablet, the encircled-star, the spiral. She writes notes in careful characters, her brush strokes steady.
Chen Wei watches her quietly. “You work hard,” he says.
Zhao Lian smiles. “It helps me think.”
He nods. “Rebecca taught you well.”
She looks down at her wrist, where the bracelet rests. “She did.”
I drift beside her, sensing her pulse brighten. She is beginning to understand the weight of what she carries.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.