The Last Hope

20. Frictions

Thoughtfully, Liu looked out the window of her guest room. It was already noon, although she would hardly have persuaded Xiang to have lunch if she hadn't brought the meals to the room. Now she and he sat together at a table and ate, albeit in silence, their lunch, which consisted of simple noodle soup.
"Haven't you wondered what Yin-Yu's husband is doing?" the peahen murmured and her gaze wandered from the window back to Xiang, who was sitting across from her. But he just poked around sullenly in his noodles.
Liu's attention shifted to the egg, which was lying peacefully on the blankets. A slight smile flitted across the corners of her beak.
"Have you thought of a name yet?" she asked softly.
But Xiang just shrugged.
"I know one already," Liu said. "Or two."
But Xiang didn't comment on that either.
With a smirking sigh, the peahen rose and went behind her husband's back, gently she put her wings on his shoulders. "If you've also thought of a name, then you can say it," she whispered to him tenderly. "I'm excited about what it will be. A boy or a girl, but it doesn't matter unless you only have a girl's name, or only a boy's."
Xiang dipped the chopsticks into the noodles. "I don't care at all," he said grimly. "If you have a name, take it. Because if I had something to add, I would probably say something, wouldn't I?"
For a few seconds, Liu was speechless. Then she rubbed his back forgivingly. "Of course, I'm sorry. It's just... after all, this is our first child." When he didn't reply, she tried to change the subject a bit. "Tell me if the baby isn't there by then... and if... would you want to go to the festival, too?"
Again just noodle poking and silence. Liu bowed her head down to him. "Or not? I mean, you don't have to go if you don't want to. It doesn't have to mean that when the panda is here, that..."
Xiang threw his chopsticks on the table and stood up.
Liu looked at him in surprise. "Where are you going?"
"I go outside."
"But you hardly ate anything," Liu said, looking at the half-full bowl.
"I've lost my appetite!" he growled.
"But I only asked a question," Liu tries to calm him down. "I mean, aren't you curious whether he has a brother? He might even have trouble in Japan. Yin-Yu sounded a little worried when I spoke to her about it."
Xiang just lifted his beak disparagingly. "He doesn't even need to come back as far as I'm concerned," and stretched his wing towards the door after taking his crutch from the wall.
Liu rubbed her wings together and took a deep breath. "Couldn't you at least..."
"No!" Xiang cut her off. "We will not! Neither today, neither tomorrow nor in the future. Namely never!"
With this final sentence, he tore open the door, jumped over the threshold and closed the door loudly. He had seen what Liu wanted to say. Although she really only hoped that he would make peace with Shen. But if Xiang were to do that at all, a miracle would have to happen.
Liu sighed heavily and sat back down at the table alone. "He is such a stubborn person. I'd love to know who gave it to him."

Xiang struggled down the stairs. At first, he didn't know where to go, as far as his gait could be described as walking. He decided not to go in the direction where Yin-Yu moved into an apartment with the children. Instead, he went down the street that led to the restaurant. But no sooner was the building in sight than he stopped dead in his tracks. Fantao was standing in front of the wall of the restaurant. There was also a music group nearby that played a little music and Jian was also there. Dark clouds gathered over Xiang's face again. He hobbled back a few meters and took a side street that led to the edge of the village, but he didn't care. The main thing was just away from society. And above all away from this family, which he hated so much.

Mr. Ping had just brought some turnips from the basement. When he returned to the kitchen, he almost dropped the vegetables from his wings. His brother stood at the stove, humming happily to himself as he stirred a bowl.
"Aha, I was already wondering where you were," Pong greeted him. "I just started making a breakfast meal."
"Pong!" Outraged, Mr. Ping laid the turnips on the counter. "Do you have to keep meddling in my kitchen every day now?"
"I just wanted to show you something," his brother soothed him and held out the bowl. "Maybe that will inspire you to do something. But what are you making that face like?"
Mr. Ping raised his beak and headed for the door. "I have to go out... to check something." With that, he marched briskly out of the kitchen. Actually, Mr. Ping just wanted to get away from Pong. The constant cooking of his great recipes was getting on his nerves. His brother had been babbling at him about it since this morning. He'd often made off by taking out the trash, but since the trash was empty, he had to find some other excuse to get out the door. The gander went across the terrace to the exit. As soon as he was on the street, he stopped dead in his tracks.
"What are you doing there?" he cried and stared along the restaurant wall, where Fantao was about to swing a few brush strokes again.
"Hey, are you crazy?!" the gander protested and ran over to him. "You can't just smear my wall!"
"It's not smearing," the peacock boy insisted angrily. "Or do you call yourself a smear?"
He pointed the tip of his brush at what he had stroked. Finally, Mr. Ping dared to take a look at the painted wall and his beak remained open. At first, he hadn't seen what Fantao had painted. The lifelike picture of Po was now visible on the wall. With the same mischievous smile and folded arms, the Dragon Warrior of color stood there, appearing to be smiling proudly at his father.
"What do you say now?" Fantao asked. "Do you still think it's so awful?"
"It..." Mr. Ping struggled to move his beak for correct sentences. "It... it's... that looks really, really good."
Fantao immediately grew a few centimeters and proudly he lifted his peacock crest. "I wouldn't have expected anything else," he remarked dryly. At least one who appreciated his works.
After a while, the gander ventured to ask a question. "Uh, could... could you draw me next to it?"
Fantao looked at him in surprise. Then he was all smiles. "Be my guest!"
"Great! Wait a minute!" Mr. Ping immediately disappeared back into the restaurant and returned in no time with a noodle bowl and chopsticks. "Right then, paint me like this." He held the bowl in one wing and the chopsticks in the other.
Fantao grinned and immediately grabbed his paints.