The phone rang at exactly 7 PM, and Zane couldn't help but think that she was as punctual as ever. As he looked at the phone, he couldn't help but hesitate. What if she were responsible for what had happened? What would he do then? Could he accept such a betrayal?
"And here I thought I had completely put our past behind me," Zane sighed. After exhaling deeply, he answered the phone but said nothing.
"Zane, is that you?" a beautiful voice said in Chinese.
Zane's heart skipped a beat. How long had it been since he had heard that sweet, melodious, yet authoritative voice? It had been too long. The last time he did, that voice was one of the few things that sustained his very essence. But today, as that same voice switched from calling him "Zizi" to "Zane," he sensed a cold detachment that reminded him things were no longer as they used to be.
"It's me."
"…You sound good."
"Well, I've always been resilient; you know that."
"That's true," Cindy nodded.
"Let's skip the small talk. You know what I want to know."
Cindy sighed, "Do you really think I would do that to you? Don't you know me better than that?"
"I no longer have room in my heart for blind faith. And even if I believed you, I would be stupid to do the same for your family," Zane replied. From the moment their relationship showed signs of becoming romantic, Cindy was honest with Zane: she told him directly that her family controlled her marriage and that there was no way they would accept him as her partner.
Zane was initially fine with a relationship with a deadline. However, as they spent more time together, he fell deeper for her. So, he pleaded for her to give their relationship a real chance, and Cindy reluctantly did. Sadly, her family immediately rejected him. Her father and mother were cold and indifferent; her two brothers were straight-up racist and classist; and her younger sister had a vitriolic hatred for Zane. The only person who treated Zane well was her grandmother.
"They wouldn't do that."
"Besides Grandmama Zhang, I would not put it past anyone else."
"Well, they didn't."
"I'm going to need more than your words."
"I investigated it myself," Cindy revealed. "And I made them swear on the Kong Family name."
Zane was silent. He knew Cindy's family was, in fact, a direct descendant of Confucius, which had granted them innumerable political and financial powers in China. Although their family was forced to change their last name throughout history and has never changed it back to Kong, everybody had immense pride in their lineage and took the name [Kong] seriously.
"Let's say I believe you for now," Zane said. "Can you tell me who framed me? You should know something."
"I can't say, and for your own good, stop investigating."
"You know I can't let go of something once I'm determined. Plus, I deserve justice."
"I have done enough by warning you. Whether you listen or not is up to you."
"…Can you at least tell me the price you paid to have me released?" Zane asked.
"No, and if you're thinking about something as stupid as repaying me — don't."
"I —"
"Listen, Zizi."
Zane's body paused.
"This is the last time I'll call you that, so listen closely to what I'm about to say. I'm getting married in a few days, so this is also our last conversation; I want to close your chapter in my life, so don't try to contact me afterward."
Zane listened, not knowing what to say.
"Live your life to the fullest," Cindy continued. "Don't let what happened derail you from the bright future you were destined to. Don't look into your case and ruin your second chance — at the very least, wait until you have the protection of wealth and status.
"Lastly, find a woman who loves you as much as I loved you. Find your own happiness as I have found mine. Do you hear me?"
"…I do."
"Good. I hope you have a good life." Cindy hung up the phone, and Zane remained in the same position for a few minutes. Memories of them together flashed in his mind: when they first met, and she showed disdain for his behavior of acting superior to others, being forced to be partners in a Statistics class, getting to know each other, falling in love, their time being intimate, traveling the globe together, and the sudden separation.
The impact Cindy had on Zane was truly profound. Without her, even prison might not be able to remove all traces of the man that Judy knew. She had shaped a significant portion of his life. But Cindy was right: their chapters needed to end. And Zane was fine with that — mostly fine.
"What did she mean by that warning? And what price did she pay to facilitate my release?" Zane thought. Those two questions haunted him, and as much as he would love to move on, as Cindy had suggested, he couldn't. As he pondered her words, Zane suddenly thought of something and called his mother.
"Did something happen? Are you alright?" Mama Sarfowa asked.
"Nothing, I just wanted to ask you something."
"Oh, alright."
"Do you know if Cindy's family has any shamans?"
"They have, and many of them," she nodded. "In fact, they are one of the oldest lineages that can be verified."
"No wonder," Zane muttered. Grandmama Zhang used to call him a "blessed child," and he always thought she was referring to his intelligence. But now, it appeared she had detected that he had a spiritual guardian. More importantly, Zane finally understood why her family had so much money and power that they could even influence things in the US.
"Do shamans care about lineage?"
"Depends on the region or area, but Eastern practitioners do indeed care a lot about a person's lineage."
"Is our family from an ancient lineage?"
"I guess so. We have traced our roots as far as the Mali Empire in the 13th century."
"Is that why you used to tell me stories about Mansa Musa?"
"Yes, we are technically his descendants."
"Wait, was he an Alchemist? Is that why he was so rich?"
"No, he was a geomancer," Mama Sarfowa explained. "The Mali Empire had countless gold mines, so most shamans in that era learned geomancy to find these mines."
"That makes sense," Zane nodded. "If I remember correctly, Mansa Musa was muslim, but our family practiced traditional spirituality. Does that mean we experienced a division between Faith and Natural Shamans?"
"As always, you're quite sharp," Mama Sarfowa praised.
"Don't you know whose son I am?"
Mama Sarfowa chuckled for a few seconds. "You suddenly brought Cindy up: did something happen?"
Zane hesitated briefly before explaining the conversation he had with her, and how he feels he owes her.
"You probably owe that girl more than you think."
"What do you mean?"
"Clans like hers are very traditional — especially regarding women — and her relationship with you has violated many of their rules. You're probably the reason she was never initiated as a practitioner."
"What? How come she didn't tell me any of this?"
"You didn't believe any of that stuff — how could she mention it to you? Plus, it was her choice."
"You talked to her about it?"
"I did," Mama Sarfowa nodded. "And she told me it was her choice and she had no regrets."
Zane was silent for a moment. "She told me to close our chapter, but how can I do that if I have so much guilt and emotional debt?"
Mama Sarfowa sighed. "I understand how you feel, but you should respect her choice and cease all contact. One day, if she ever truly comes to your aid, you can help, but don't interfere in her life anymore."
"I know," Zane nodded. He understood the concept of respecting others' boundaries; he just couldn't help feel that he owed a few people too much.
"Let's not talk about her anymore. Ma, you should have some knowledge or shaman spell: can't you teach me?"
"Not before your initiation."
"And when is that?"
"Next year's Grand Ceremony," Mama Sarfowa replied.
"Can't you just teach me now?"
"No," she directly refused. "And can you even use our spells?"
"Probably not," Zane replied. Although Earth still uses the ancient shaman path that only requires mental energy, it doesn't mean Zane could use their spells. A shaman's soul and mental energy differ fundamentally from a mage's, which is one of the reasons few people can be both.
"But, I still want to learn."
"Then, wait for the ceremony."
Zane no longer insisted; he knew she wouldn't break tradition because of him. "Then, can you make a protective item for me? In the last shift, Anansi's voice saved my life."
"I'm already planning to do that, but true magical materials are rare and expensive. So, it will take a while."
"I have some savings. You can ask me if you need it."
"I will."