CELESTIAL LOVE - QiCon🪐HQ

Chapter 1: Shen Hu—Breath of Vengeance

Shen hu—breath—haaaah… Liánhuǒ exhaled in fury, and planets collided; the suns never shone again, and time ceased to be. Liánhuǒ Celestial of Raging Flames spurned—and in fury, deep within the ether, vengeance came and never stopped. His rage let loose, the celestial breath of annihilation. It arrived—Eternity its void and all in its wake blown asunder, distorted, tumbling, cascading, careening, collapsing as reality dissolved into mayhem. Existence as they knew it, ceased. Genesis convulsed; a tear of ten thousand thunders ripped the fabric of being. And from the swirling primordial vastness, shen hu—breath—haaaah, divine soft… creation flowed; destiny’s forged Yin, in balance of Yang and Qi, flowed.

‘Ahhhhhh! Why does it burn? No blade or lance has touched, nor taiaha thrust, yet…agony sears deep—this sound,’ Liánhuǒ strained. ‘What is this that I cannot see? I am greater than all others!’ His spite knew no boundaries. Exhalation—shen hu—haaaah…it crushed the stars and blackholes formed! It smashed and fusion imploded… and erupted manifestations of raging flames. And from the heart of the inferno, Liánhuǒ’s incarnate rage rushed forward, shun hu: exhalation—scorched the void: ‘GO FORTH!… SEARCH EXISTENCE! FIND THE CHILD! DENY HIM QI—BRING ME HIS ESSENCE, HIS YANG HEART!’

‘I will shake the realm of earthly things, and flares of fusion will light the gloom; my echo will rupture sound. And from my thunder, all it strikes—plasma molten—will end its time there.’

In the valley, untouched… Qi flowed.

Grandma’s needle paused. A jolt ran through the teacup, making the surface ripple. Wei lunged—reckless, bright—to catch it. ‘Swifter than the strike of plasma that melts mountains and smoother than the echo that shatters sound, eh Nai nai.’ Wei proudly boasted.

‘Breathe, little storm,’ Nai nai murmured, her hand steadying his. ‘Qi flows when Yang yields. Haaaah… Be conscious of it. True strength lies in yielding, not just pushing.’ Nai nai smiled as soft undulations bunched and caressed her face.

Wei exhaled (haaaah…), fingers tingling. The cup settled, water still. Outside, the earthquake fractured a mountain.

Inside, Pa leaned over, breathing deep. He drew the aroma from the rising steam as he shook his head and wiped his eye. ‘That’s hot, Ma,’ he muttered, his cup spilling over the brim.

‘Why does he hide?!’ Shen hu—the breath—howls and shreds the nebula. ‘I feel its fire, the raging flames! It mocks me from… from everywhere, and nowhere to be seen!’

‘Who, Grandpa, who’s hiding, who’s teasing you? I’ll punch them!’ Wei affirmed, his head tilted, eyes squinting and forehead frowning…’Come on, Grandpa…tell me who.’

‘My young hero, sometimes the strongest punch is a TikTok comedy viral—like when I beat that donkey in a race,’ Grandpa said, gesturing to the pile. ‘Wei, fetch some wood. I’ll help your Nai nai make dinner.’

‘Wait… was that the punch, Grandpa?’

From the kitchen, Ma didn’t look up. ‘Didn’t the donkey win that race, Pa?’

As a chuckle, then a squeaking clank of the door and pings of WeChats quieted, Ma looked at Pa. ‘We must seek their help. Tell them the Gateway has been breached. Call the JumpMasters; we’ll need their skills…’

‘Okay, Ma,’ Pa replied, ‘it’s done. I saw for a mere moment a flutter; it was Pipiwharauroa and Magpie, and now the Jade Star glows…They are here and there, but exactly where, I don’t know. But I feel it, the Qi is wrong, it is offset. I’m wary, Ma; Ominous hides out in the open, in plain view, where we cannot see.’

Wei breathed again. Deeper this time. The recklessness in his veins cooled, not gone, but deepening, flowing like the hidden current of the Mysterious Waters within him a fatherly trait. Balance, not chaos. Qi. ‘It grows strong in him, teach him well, old lady,’ Pa cheekily muttered.

‘What is this?’ Liánhuǒ demanded. ‘Who dares to play life with me…?!’ Exhalation—shen hu—and in the ether, shapes of thoughts and feelings rose. ‘If I just had one more chance… and if time will not yield, then I will end all that resides in it.’ Unleashed. Formations charged in a pulsing rhythm, granted mass by thought, given purpose by pain. ‘I should’ve said something…’ They did not stumble from shadow—they were shadow, shaped by yearning, by words left unspoken, by forgiveness withheld. ‘I want to forgive her—but I can’t,’ one thought said.

Laughter echoed from the deepest darkness as they solidified; mercy a forgotten ideal. Liánhuǒ’s impetuous sigh neither welcomed nor feared them. He named them. ‘You,’ he declared, his voice carved from stillness, ‘I name you Lost First Kiss. Haunt them with warmth that can never be touched again. Go, sow grief without pity.’

The shape twitched, then slipped into the mind’s fragile fractures. ‘And you,’ he turned to an ever-shifting form, too fluid to trust, ‘kneel, or I cast you into the beast-cloud—Vengeance Scorned. Seize regret, yearning, forgiveness—twist them, bend them, break them. Let your voice become their inner monologue. Make compassion falter. Let forgiveness sting.’

Another manifested—thin, whispering, uncertain. ‘You are The Promise That Wasn’t Meant. Breathe into memories. Make them doubt if truth was ever real.’ One more materialized—elegant and still, with cold fire for eyes. ‘You are Jealousy Masked as Caution. Whisper that safety is betrayal. Persuade them to push away those who would cease their heart’s beat for them.’

He stepped back, lowering his blade. They watched, formless and faithless. ‘You are all born of what once touched me, fragments of what I was denied. Obstruct them—play them against each other, Pull the strings Piyingxi’s marionettes. And behind the scenes of life’s silhouette sow illusions and break them open; lay bare their flaws: make love unravel.’ Finally, he commanded: ‘Find the one who still loves too deeply. The mortal who would chase forever. When they are broken within—’ He vanished. His final words carved a curse into the void: ‘I will throw all that illusions unravel into my raging flames. And I will be love’s immortality.’

But somewhere, far beyond the tempest of schemes and sorrow, a quiet tide still flowed, holding the world from the brink. Her breath mended what his tore; where his exhale shattered, hers restored. Where his illusions fostered confusion, hers sparked remembrance. The balance was not broken. Not yet.

In the swirling immensity of nebulae, Tumatauenga, the Māori celestial of battles, so large he casts a shadow into the furthest dimensions, hovered on his longboard, Nukutaimemeha. His voice boomed across light-years, a cosmic resonance, as he addressed a faint hum and what seemed like a darting dot. ‘Atta-bay Pipi, he aha—what’s up?’

Pipi, a celestial of seemingly insignificant size next to the colossal Tumatauenga, yet radiating an ancient light borne of the Qi, returned. ‘Kia ora, e hoa mā. Hello, my friends.’ His voice was hushed but clear, carrying across the continuum despite the overwhelming scale of his surroundings, his eyes fixed on the extreme peripheries. ‘A soft breath of spirals came, and I fluttered—I arrived. Titiro: look.’

He swiftly angled a wing, pointing. ‘Thunder and light, streaking molten plasma… Are you fighting down there, Tumatauenga?’

Looking at the earthly planet, then across to Tumatauenga, then back to the roiling mayhem of fiery reds and plasma oranges exploding from what was once a pristine deep blue sphere. From the vastness of space, a resonant voice, the size of worlds, replied, a deep vibration rippling through the cosmic dust:

‘Kāore. No, e hoa mā. That is what troubles me… I feel the ache of Papatūānuku—life suffers. Hòutǔ, Earth Mother, the ancient turtle, asks: why? But I am not war. That beast stirs in the machinations of the few who wage it—to make profit from it,—to fill personal chasms fathoms deep. They bear the mark of the Lucifer.’ He turned, voice deepening with gravity. ‘Titiro—look, Pipi. See the fiery obliterator, streaming from the deepest void. As one, they can defeat it. I am that battle. —Will you go, Pipi Ariki?’

Pipiwharauroa turned in the starlight, his wings, though seemingly fragile against the vastness, subtly tensing as they caught the faint hum of distant energy. A quiet determination settled on his face, a pinpoint of resolve against cosmic indifference, his gaze sharp and bright like a bird’s eye.

‘Kaore, Tumatauenga. Engari—however—I lead the divine dogs who bear the sign of the Jade Dragon to shepherd the JumpMasters. They go to the place where tea brews… where the young one learns Qi from the elder: Yin. And if summoned by the soft breath of Qi, then yes—I yield unto her word.’

He paused, the starlight deepening in his eyes, tiny beacons of unwavering will, and a faint, melodic trill seemed to echo in the silent void for a fleeting moment.

‘I shall challenge him face to face, taiaha to raging flame, and end the raruraru the Celestial has sown. Auē, e hoa mā, I sense hell is coming… and I must prepare to usher in light. I must flutter and usher the breath of softness to mend what that one has broken. And then maybe that battle you will win. Mā te wā—until next time, my friends. May you and Nukutaimemeha, hover true.’

The voice from the void, touched by this tiny bird’s tenacity even in the wake of utter carnage, responded, ‘Ka pai to mahi, e hoa mā. Talk about big kahuas…Kia kaha—Pipiwharauroa Ariki.’

In the dark of the ether came a croaky muttering, ‘Excuse me, Master, I beg your audience.’

‘Why do you return? I see neither soul nor his essence, well!’ Liánhuǒ bellowed.

‘Oh Master, the JumpMasters, they, they…!’ But before it could finish, Liánhuǒ turned and stared, his eyes spawning raging flames… ‘Then hit them as well! Make them mortal…and take my wrath into time’s realm and it will wait for those who come after…make them all suffer. Now go,’ he said as fragments of stars bombarded the scuttling thumps of terror rushing to inflect its master’s bidding.

As dusk settled over a tranquil mountain village, a strange breath filled the air—not quite wind, not quite memory. The elders called it a returning. It drifted like an old love letter rediscovered, fluttering through open doors, brushing cheeks with the scent of something almost remembered. It swirled between cooking fires and laughter, across ancient trees and stone walls carved with faded names.

The old couple, Grandpa and Grandma, sat in the courtyard where leaves piled easily and the door wasn’t that far. And there they gathered around ancient fire rocks where epic stories had long been told. Teenagers—young of Yang—surrounded them hunched over glowing screens. Their worlds brimming with emoji-filled ping ping pings, yellow smiley things and crimson rosy red hearts. And the occasional flying plasma breathing dragon and Additron Commando. Wei crossed his arms, feigning boredom, while Lifen attempted to smooth things over. Their eyes remained fixed on a little box at Grandpa’s feet, pulsing with soft green light. Grandpa cleared his throat, eyeing Wei.

What’s wrong, kid?’ Grandpa said. ‘You going on a date through your WeChat feed?’

His eyes fixed on his shoes, Wei mumbled ‘Maybe’ as the sound of rapid-fire pings bounced off the ceiling.’

Lifen nudged him playfully. ‘Wei, hush. Let your Ye Ye talk.’ The old man grinned, brushing off an ember that landed on his pant leg. ‘All right then, you want a story? Your Nai nai has one that will set your WeChat abuzz.’

‘Nai nai, Grandma,’ Wei asked, ‘is the Jade Star real?’

‘Is your love for… your WeChat date real? We’ll keep that a secret,’ Grandma responded, smiling and winking at Lifen as Wei flushed brighter than a golden moon. ‘You know, long ago, in the hush before time… the Qi… breathed and formed into stars. Three radiant forces emerged from the Essence of the Ether: Mínghé — the luminous still point, the harmony between flame and tide. Her presence infused stillness into chaos, tempering fury not with force, but with grace. Where day clashed with night, she held the line—as there was more at stake than the whisper knew.

Grandma’s voice lingered, composed and steady, imbued with the weight of ancient wisdom. ‘Mínghé,’ she spoke leaning in, each syllable settling like a breath of stillness, ‘The Serene Balance.’ She paused; the words hung, the room hushed, as if the earth itself had drawn a deep breath. Her hands rested lightly above the table, fingers tracing unhurried, deliberate circles, as if sensing the pulse of the earth beneath. ‘Her Feng Shui Element: Earth,’ she murmured, a reverent quietness in her tone. The words fell with a gentle weight, deep and unwavering. ‘The center that holds.’

Grandpa watched his love. Then, with a wink choreographed over generations of shared tales, he launched into a burst of theatrics. His arms flew wide, sweeping the air with exuberance, his hands cutting through space like lightning. His energy, an unpredictable and passionate storm, unleashed itself. He spun, arms stretching outward as if embracing the very world.

‘The Qi that holds!’ he shouted, his voice erupting with power, his laughter infectious. ‘It is not just the earth we feel; it is the force, the strength, the pulse!’ His voice boomed, as if the ground itself stirred beneath them.

Grandma observed him with a faint smile, her eyes steady, unshaken. When his whirlwind of energy subsided, she leaned in again. Her voice, low and soothing, guided them back into the peace only she could command.

‘The Qi that holds,’ she repeated, her voice rising fractionally, a subdued echo of the force Grandpa had unleashed. ‘It is not force that keeps us, but balance. Stillness allows the energy to flow, not the chaos that consumes.’ Her voice wrapped around them like the earth itself—solid, dependable, grounding. It became clear: Mínghé was not just about what moved or burst forth. She was the silent foundation upon which everything else rested. Grandma peered deep into the Yang of hearts. Her words pulsed with the shared yearnings of Yang, as the jade shard hummed in ambient glow.

Grandpa, snuggling back down, nodded in agreement, his panting exuberance quieting into the stillness she had brought. His face softened, the wild spark dimmed, replaced by a serene understanding. He whispered, ‘Yes… the balance.’

Her eyes glowing, Grandma’s voice, a delicate breeze, lifted the room’s energy. ‘Mínghé… is the Serene Balance,’ she affirmed, the weight of it not in her words but in the way the room bent to her presence. ‘The Earth. The center that holds. Where all energy finds its place, and everything spins in harmony.’ Her voice, steadfast and true like the earth itself—no burst, no rush—conveyed the calm certainty that everything, no matter how wild, would eventually find rest.

‘Then there was Xuánshuǐ — Celestial of Mysterious Waters,’ Grandma continued, as she gently brushed Wei’s cheek. In the corner of his eye, Wei saw Pa nodding and smiling; he tilted his head back and forth, smiling at both, his eyes squinting, his mind pinging with ponder. As his attention snapped back, Nai nai’s words crackled in the air like an igniting spark. ‘Fire—passion, heat. Unchecked, its will becomes an obstacle.’ Her hands hovered just above the table, fingers moving with an unhurried, deliberate rhythm, as though tracing the very beginnings of fire.

Grandpa’s voice was steady at first. ‘Passion,’ he said, the word deliberate. ‘Heat,’ he continued, his tone warming. ‘Unchecked will,’ he added, the promise of something greater building. But then—Grandma let out a minute, almost imperceptible cough. At her cue, his composure burst into life. His arms shot out, slicing the air like unleashed flame. He moved briskly, dramatically. His feet stamped the ground; his hands reached high, as if summoning the sky’s fire. ‘Liánhuǒ!’ he bellowed, his voice booming with uncontrollable blaze. The room seemed to crackle, but just as swiftly, Grandpa dropped back into stillness. His arms fell softly, his breath heavy but subdued, embers left from the fire. ‘And yet,’ he whispered, a hushed echo, ‘even the fiercest fire must eventually burn out.’

Grandma’s gaze softened, her voice a tranquil counterpoint to the lingering tension. ‘Fire,’ she began, like a breeze tempering embers, ‘cannot be contained. It consumes, ascends, and leaves only ash.’ Her words settled like stillness after a storm. Grandpa, now calm, nodded—his energy a residual warmth.

‘Then, there is Xuánshuǐ — Celestial of Mysterious Waters,’ she continued, her tone deepening. To love, for him, was to command the unseen currents, to veil desire beneath stillness. Grandma paused, her words rippling like secrets in a moonlit lake. ‘He embodies depth, secrecy, and the weight of memory.’ She leaned forward, ensuring every ear bent to her whisper: ‘He moved as a half-forgotten dream—subtle, vast. What he could not possess, he mirrored in illusion. Yet where Liánhuǒ — Celestial of Raging Flame — erupted outward, Xuánshuǐ coiled inward.’

‘Together, Liánhuǒ and Xuánshuǐ battled and chaos flourished. Then truce stemmed as Mínghé — Serene Balance, the living breath of the cosmos sought flow not fury. But harmony between Flame and Waters proved fragile; their opposing natures fractured the Jade Star. When their rivalry sundered heaven shattering the Jade Star, Mínghé dived into mayhem’s wrath. She sacrificed herself to preserve its Aura — the essence binding existence. Both celestials revered her, not for conquest, but for awe. Yet awe curdled to hunger, hunger to obsession. They clashed. Neither sought her counsel; their love warped to strife, and strife tore the skies.’

‘As the Jade Aura splintered, Mínghé enveloped the fragments, shielding creation from collapse. Her form dissolved into starlight, scattering to the winds. The celestials pursued—not to salvage, but to claim. They failed. Thus began the Eternal Chase: Liánhuǒ, ever-seeking, flames lashing the void; Xuánshuǐ, ever-obstructing, tides quashing his rival’s light. Mínghé’s heartbeat faded to myth—a whisper in hearthside tales, a sigh in spring rains. She lingers now where humility meets yearning, awaiting those who ask rather than take.’

She turned to the girls in the group, winking conspiratorially. ‘You see, the warriors in the old story never learned how to communicate with the one they fought for. Boys rarely seem to change, do they? They possess an exuberant drive and unwavering determination to go against the grain. Their youthful faces hide their reluctance to share their innermost feelings. But we know how to fix that, right, girls?’

‘You see, girls, with boys like my old, foolish Ye Ye,’ Grandma continued with a teasing smile, ‘we chat—he says what’s him, and I say what’s me. And when confusion clouds his face, we chat some more until it clears. It may take longer than it takes a cup a tea to cool, a century of two,’ Ma chuckled as she gazed fondly into her Ye Ye’s eyes.

A couple of the teenage girls giggled, exchanging mischievous grins. Wei let out a half-snort, half-chuckle. ‘Listen up, Wei. Did you hear what your Nai nai said? Next time you’re with a girl, do one thing: look at her, not your phone; it works, she’ll like you more. And chat before you text her with a yellow smiley smile and a cherry red heart.’ Grandpa winked and chuckled.

‘Grandpa,’ Wei said questionably ‘what’s this’, reaching for the box. The closer Wei reached, the brighter the box glowed.

‘Your Qi is growing,’ grandpa blurted panting like the universe just arrived for a hot cup of tea. His finger tapped its lid. He cracked it, and the green glow brightened more. ‘See this? Pulsing even brighter… like your heart on its first date.’ He reached in and pulled out a diminutive jade trinket—a simple pendant on a thin cord. ‘Give her this when you’re ready,’ he urged softly, pressing it into Wei’s hand.

‘That’s not all it is, mind you,’ Pa said, his tone shifting like gears in an old transmission Wei could feel in his bones. That look crossed his face—the one Wei knew better than any bedtime story: a thoughtful squint in one eye, a small, knowing frown, and a mischievous little smirk curling the corner of his mouth like he was about to let Wei in on a secret the world had forgotten. He pointed from Wei’s glowing phone to the cool, silent jade resting in Wei’s palm.

‘You and your friends have your pings and talking screens,’ he said, ‘but this right here… feel the Qi in it, Wei. Really feel it.’

Then Grandpa’s voice shifted—dropped low and slow, like a temple bell sounding in mist. The air seemed to hush around him. When he spoke next, it wasn’t just words—it was invocation.

‘This little shard? It’s more than stone. It holds stories, boy. Real stories. Echoes of an epic decology—ten sacred tales woven across the ages. I’m talking’ cosmic battles, legendary warriors, heroines whose footsteps cracked mountains, swords that sang, stars that wept. Zips, zaps, zooms—booms and bangs that shook timelines. Not just our past. Not just the now. This jade reaches forward—across centuries, through what will be. Whole futures still waiting to be remembered.’

A hush followed, the only sound the fire’s gentle crackle. Grandpa snapped the box shut, cutting off the bright green glow. ‘All right, enough cosmic talk. Now get outta here, or I’ll start recounting the time I taught your grandma to dance under the moon.’

‘Eww, Grandpa!’ Wei teased, half-laughing, half-groaning. Everyone stood, stirring from the circle, a blend of amusement and fascination lingering from the story’s warmth and the future the elders hinted at.

Far from the village tranquility, in a cozy city apartment where every countertop was within arm’s reach, Jin stood with his phone pressed to his ear. Fluttering outside Pipiwharauroa and Magpie ascended. The aroma of steaming dumplings permeated the confined space, savory warmth hugging the corners. He chewed thoughtfully, listening to his father’s familiar voice crackle on the line.

‘You found decent dumplings there?’ his father inquired, affection masking mild disbelief. ‘Not as good as home,’ Jin conceded, laughing. ‘They’re missing that secret dash of salt you always add.’

‘Close isn’t home, son. Don’t forget us common folk,’ his father’s voice held a tender reminder. Jin exhaled, the taste of nostalgia lingering. ‘Never. Promise I’ll visit soon. Just busy… you know how it is.’ He took another bite. A fleeting recollection of his Grandpa’s oval box and cosmic tales brushed his mind, offering peculiar comfort in the ordinary moment.

‘We’re proud of you,’ his father’s voice softened. ‘Don’t let the city swallow that bright spark.’ Jin’s throat tightened. ‘Thanks, Dad. Means a great deal.’

They laughed, voices bridging distance. Then something shifted. The ground vibrated, sending the dumpling container skittering across the counter. Jin frowned. ‘Dad—?’ he began. Static erupted, followed by a rumbling. His father yelled something inaudible. The apartment rocked violently, cabinets banging open, dumplings cascading off the counter. ‘Dad?! Dad!’ Jin shouted, his heart hammered against his ribs. The line went dead.

Across the city, where lantern light cast fluttering silhouettes in a teahouse, Mei cradled a cup of jasmine tea. Her phone balanced against her cheek. Her mother’s laughter resonated in her ear. ‘Tell me you found that apricot-tea blend,’ her mother teased. ‘I tried,’ Mei responded, suppressing a wistful sigh, ‘but it’s not yours. Your swirl of leaves was magical, Mom.’

A warm chuckle answered. ‘We’ll brew it together when you visit—no more delaying, okay?’ Mei closed her eyes, letting memories drift. She pictured Grandma’s voice weaving tales of the Jade Star, ancient warriors, and heartbreak. Once dismissed as silly narratives, they resonated with a curious poignancy now. Her mother’s tone softened.

‘Mei, you sound… off. Is everything all right?’ ‘Just missing home,’ Mei murmured. ‘I’ll come soon, I promise.’ A sudden rattle disturbed the teacups, delicate porcelain chattering on polished tables. Mei’s heart lurched. ‘Mom? Do you feel that?’ ‘Feel wha—?’ A violent jolt hurled her to the floor, cups shattering in an explosion of porcelain shards. Her mother’s voice turned frantic. ‘Mei—an earthquake? Are you—?!’ A roar of splitting concrete howled through the teahouse as windows imploded in a tempest of glass. Mei scrambled beneath a table, phone clutched tightly. ‘Mom!’ she gasped. ‘Get somewhere safe—Mom—!’ But only silence remained. The line was severed. A cacophony of terror erupted as the building groaned under the quake’s assault.

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