And all I ever knew, only you

 

Qing woke up looking like Cheng with a bad cough.

"Am I OK?" She looked to ChaCha who shook her head, no. She suspected it would be so.

"If I only had a mirror," Qing looked at her blankly.

"Didn't bring one," ChaCha shrugged. She said they were in a hurry. "We thought we might never see you two again.

Qing nodded as  if she understood her dilemma. She closed her eyes and thought of her brother.

"Did I change?" Qing wanted to know when she opened her eyes.

"No," ChaCha told her she was still Cheng. "How does this work?" All along ChaCha thought it had to do with makeup and changing one's voice.

"It's the imagination," Qing explained while she took the warm sweet potato porridge that ChaCha brought her from the fire where steam buns were cooking and a rabbit stew was simmering. 

"It's a lot like a great recipe, I guess," Qing told her. "I just have to remember all the ingredients, but I just can't at the moment."

ChaCha told her she needed to get her strength back.

"If only I wouldn't think of Cheng so much," Qing had only ever let herself think of her brother, and she hadn't seen him in ages. Who could she focus on now? Why had she let herself become Cheng? Of course, there was no one to converse with about the matters. She was on her own now. She couldn't even think of what her late grandmother told her about this skill. It was a skill after all. It was to be used when necessary. Otherwise, she needed to leave it alone.

Even now, she tried to remember what her grandmother looked like. It was best to be old and wise, she thought. But that didn't happen either.

"You just need to rest." ChaCha consoled her. Oh, Qing knew what Milo would think if he found ChaCha hugging Cheng.

"It'll be fine," Qing pushed her away. Funny, the only person she really truly remember was the guard. And she didn't even know his name, but it didn't stop her from changing her whole body makeup from Cheng to the martial artist they'd fought together only yesterday.