Chen Wenbin gritted his teeth at the discomfort. The process was intrusive. It wasn’t like the empowering buff Sun Han could give to Hong Fei or Auntie Ling. This qi was still his own, and he retained control of it. The examination was also enlightening. He’d never had a subject this advanced in their cultivation before. It almost made up for the missed opportunity to study that Yellow’s Ugly Dog.
Sun Han sighed, and Zhang Dehua, pacing nearby, mistook it for a bad sign. The Yu’s steward stopped to ask, “How is it?”
“I’ve only just started,” Sun Han clarified.
There were four people currently in Chen Wenbin’s salon: the scholar and his subject, as well as Zhang Dehua and Mei Hua. The rest of the Chen family didn’t have the influence within the Yu household to resist being kicked out. Sun Han heard them muttering in the courtyard.
Mei Hua sat on a settee, leaning forward and watching Sun Han with intense, glittering eyes.
The xiàowèi’s salon might be described as sumptuous—there were finely upholstered chairs, a mahogany table for meals, and pottery and paintings to distract the eyes—but the one outstanding item that had caught Sun Han’s attention was a large portrait of Duke Yu looking down upon the occupants as if in judgement of their actions.
Sun Han was used to working unobserved. All these people and the painting watching made him uncomfortable. He did his best to ignore them, however, focusing on his qi within Chen Wenbin’s body and the process of mapping the major meridians and checking the development of the lower and middle cauldrons.
The scholar was like a man walking through a maze made entirely of swords. Everywhere he went, an oppressive sense followed him, ready to cut him to pieces. The work was slow and painstaking but informative. Everywhere his qi went, he found rigid, regimented, and orderly structures. The xiàowèi’s whole system of practice was remarkably stable.
Even the damage caused by the usual stresses a warrior placed on their meridians was within expectations. Overall, the xiàowèi was the picture of health, except for the missing right arm, of course.
The doctor who’d treated Chen Wenbin had already dealt with the bleeding by applying needles to the shoulder and tying the blood vessels shut. A grayish paste had been slathered unto the wound, as well, and the bruised areas around it were already returning to pink.
Sun Han wiped the sweat that had beaded on his forehead. “Thank you for your patience, xiàowèi. You can mobilize your qi now.”
The tang of metal became overwhelming inside Chen Wenbin’s meridians. The swords seemed to press in on Sun Han, and he lost control of some of his own qi. Slowly, he pushed more into the xiàowèi to make up for the loss.
Chen Wenbin obscured the practices he used to cultivate, but could reveal their impacts on his meridians, which was a meticulous level of control for a person injured. It made Sun Han think that recovery was possible. The effort would require diligence and skill, but the xiàowèi seemed capable of working around the damaged areas to continue cultivating toward higher realms.
Though… Sun Han directed his qi toward where the upper cauldron would eventually form. He sensed a wrinkle along the way, a bump in the flow of energy. It didn’t appear to be a significant obstacle, but something so simple had the potential to be disastrous in the climb to Essence Body.
That was a matter for the xiàowèi’s future, however. First came the need to hold onto what was already his.
“Well?” Chen Wenbin asked, his voice hoarse.
“There’s hope,” Sun Han replied.
The scholar closed his eyes and pictured the human body in all its beautiful and intricate details. There were those in his former association who’d looked for ways to replace pieces of it—the broken parts and the ones ravaged by deviation from the Dao. Some had used animal limbs and organs, others metal or wood. Some of those experiments had even been successful, meaning that subjects hadn’t died immediately.
There were lessons in those trials that could be applied to the xiàowèi’s treatment. Not to create a replacement, that was beyond Sun Han, but to use the alternative nodes in the meridian system to make up for the missing ones.
He opened his eyes to find Chen Wenbin warily watching him.
“What’s the cost?” he asked.
“Hmm?” Sun Han replied, not sure of his meaning. “Just hard work. I’ll write out a plan mapping alternative existing nodal structures to the ones now missing. You’ll need to experiment—carefully, mind you; don’t rush or it’ll cripple your cultivation—but you should be able to adapt your practice.”
Chen Wenbin’s eyes narrowed. “Your master, Hong Fei, doesn’t ask for anything in return?”
The others in the room shifted. Sun Han felt them paying close attention when he said, “Not that he’s mentioned. I was asked for, and he sent me.”
“Truly?” The qi inside Chen Wenbin’s body slowed its pace. His breathing, though still constricted, eased a touch. “And you? You want nothing in return?”
Sun Han wanted a great deal, but he was learning to let go of those… obsessions. “If you’d be willing to share the results of what worked and what didn’t, I would be most appreciative. Just the mapping—I don’t need the details of your cultivation practice. Those are sensitive secrets, I understand.”
Chen Wenbin nodded. “It will be made so.” With a complicated expression, he looked toward where his missing limb ought to be. “How strange, I can feel my fingers still. They itch.”
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“Where is the arm?” Sun Han couldn’t help asking.
Zhang Dehua stepped forward to show a ring on his hand. “It’s stored within. I’ve promised to keep it for our xiàowèi until the time of his death, so that he may travel to the underworld with it.”
“Oh, yes. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?” Sun Han remarked, containing his disappointment. It would’ve been interesting to dissect the limb.
“I’ll get you paper and ink,” Mei Hua offered, and she ran off before he could thank her.
Sun Han was left with the two other men and stood with them in awkward silence until the fairy returned. Then it was simply a matter of writing out the treatment plan, which didn’t require much thought on his part. He even included his observations of the wrinkle he’d sensed, which might win him, and by connection Hong Fei, some favor.
The ink wasn’t yet dry when Chen Wenbin took the treatment plan from the scholar’s hand. He read the details, his eyes moving up and down the page. “This is… clear.” He looked up from the papers. “Very much so.”
Sun Han smiled wryly. “It’d do you no good if the plan was filled with obscure phrasing and unhelpful allusions.”
“I am in your debt,” Chen Wenbin said.
The scholar nodded, accepting his due. A moment later he bowed after being dismissed to return back to his duty.
Outside the salon, Mei Hua immediately slipped away, using qi to dash past the people gathered there. Sun Han made the mistake of being too slow to follow suit. The family worried about their patriarch latched onto him and prevented him from fleeing to the safety of his summoner.
###
Of the thirty-three names, only a quarter were unknown to Yellow’s Ugly Dog. Those eight people needed investigation, as did the ones still alive even after having been targeted by the Rock Knives and their hidden allies.
Hong Fei handed the list with annotations to Yu Ning.
“I’ll give this to the steward,” she said. “The xiàowèi…”
“Will be fine,” Hong Fei interjected. “Trust Chen Wenbin to know how to lead his troops. If nothing else, he’ll find way to make sure they stay united under him.”
“My thought was that the two of you clashed,” the duchess said.
A wry smile flitted across Hong Fei’s lips. “We did, and we do, but the family’s safety is more important.”
“A truce, then?” she asked.
“I suppose so, yes,” he replied.
“And might that peace be made permanent?” the duchess pressed, arching a brow at him. “Since the safety of the house will likely be in question for… for many years.”
“That would depend on him and his demands,” Hong Fei answered. From the expression on Yu Ning’s face, his answer didn’t please her, so he added, “And me and mine, too.”
Mollified, she nodded. “Good, see to it.”
Hong Fei rose. “If there’s nothing else?”
The duchess shook her head. “I’ll have a copy of the list sent to your courtyard in the morning.”
Hearing the dismissal in her voice, Hong Fei saluted before taking his leave. He gestured for Yellow’s Ugly Dog to walk with him and pretended not to hear the weary, relieved sigh left behind inside the library.
###
Corridor after corridor of the Yu estate were lit by lamps. Yellow’s Ugly Dog couldn’t help noticing them all—the cost of the oil must’ve been outrageous. And there were pretty things to look at everywhere. It was almost enough to distract from the unnerving quiet.
There were no babies crying at all hours or drunken neighbors singing or yelling. The only movement came from the patrolling guards who homed in on Hong Fei like arrows. Each pair of soldiers was fully armed and none let him pass without examining his badge of office and asking about her identity.
With all this attention, an honest woman might question herself. The guards hadn’t heard that she’d thrown up in the duchess’s presence, had they? Were there eavesdroppers at every door like at the Dreaming Ox?
Yellow’s Ugly Dog blanched at the thought. Being introduced to Duchess Yu had already been nerve-wracking, and it seemed like meetings with her happened on the regular. She didn’t need a reputation for being a wanton vomiter to deal with, too.
There was so much to think about and consider. This job involved a lot more than standing around and keeping horny customers from going where they oughtn’t.
The list on the stone slats and the conversation that had happened around it—Yellow’s Ugly Dog could still feel her heart beating like it wanted to knock its way out of her chest.
Her Rock Head was likely in trouble—not that he was hers, not really and not yet. The dumb fool was adamant about saving up for a decent bride price, and him with his sick father and all. If Yellow’s Ugly Dog hadn’t taken the job with the Rock Knives, those two would have been starved out of the city long ago. They would’ve become food for the beasts in the forest, assuming Rock Head’s father survived that long.
Her new boss, this man Hong Fei, he might be able to do something—about both the money and the deep, deep trouble that she was now a part of, too. Heavens, the conversation in the library had nearly set her hair to standing.
Yellow’s Ugly Dog cleared her throat to get Hong Fei’s attention. When that didn’t work, she did it again.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “If you’re sick, let Kang Lian know. She likely has a remedy somewhere in that medicine bag of her’s.” He paused a moment to clarify, “She’s the head servant in my courtyard. You’re to do as she asks as if it was me speaking.”
“That’s good to know,” Yellow’s Ugly Dog said, “but I was wondering about pay…”
Hong Fei paused, his brow furrowing. “We don’t have a paymaster attached to our courtyard, and the other servants just draw on our budget as needed.” He glanced her way. “That won’t work for you, however.” He nodded to himself. “Five shi of rice, four bolts of cloth, and three hundred bronze coins a year. Will that be satisfactory?”
Yellow’s Ugly Dog swallowed. “So much?”
“It’s what my troops earned when I was in the army,” Hong Fei replied.
“So, I’ll be doing that much fighting,” she muttered.
“There’s the chance of it,” he said, then resumed walking.
“The people we’ll be fighting, they’re the bosses of the Rock Knives,” she said, confirming what she’d heard.
“That’s our understanding, yes,” Hong Fei replied.
“And behind them is an immortal?” she asked, her voice rising in alarm.
“A cultivator at the Refining Spirit realm can live a thousand years,” Hong Fei said, his own voice tight. He turned a serious expression toward her. “That’s not quite immortal but might as well be to people like us.”
The thought was too big for Yellow’s Ugly Dog. Living that long was inconceivable. “How many Refining Spirit cultivators are there?”
“I only know of one,” Hong Fei replied. He cleared his throat like there was something nasty stuck in it. “The emperor.”
“Oh,” she said. Then his answer landed, and she stopped walking. Yellow’s Ugly Dog had to jog to catch up. “Does the duchess know that?”
“I imagine she does,” Hong Fei said.
“Oh,” she repeated, then mulled over the situation. “That kind of power… can I get my pay in advance?”
“You don’t expect to survive until the first allotment?” Hong Fei asked in return.
“Do you?” she challenged.
He stopped to consider the question. She’d never had a boss do that before. He stroked his beard, “hmm’ed” to himself, and finally said, “I do. There may be tigers crouching in the shadows, but this house is full of hidden dragons.”
Hong Fei had spoken so earnestly. And perhaps truthfully, as well. Yellow’s Ugly Dog wasn’t in a position to know. She’d already given herself over to dying, so anything more was a gift, especially if there was pay to come with it. Her family would be better off, at least. Tomorrow, she’d send them a message to let them know she still lived and the news about her new job.
Yellow’s Ugly Dog couldn’t help swallowing. “Is it always like that, meeting with a noble? I was so nervous I couldn’t think.”
“No,” Hong Fei replied. “The first time is usually the worst unless the noble in question regularly mistreats their retainers, but you don’t need to worry about that with Duchess Yu.”
Yellow’s Ugly Dog ducked her head. She looked down at her hands, the callouses visible in the light cast by the lamps. “I’ve never been called a prize before,” she muttered.
Hong Fei snorted. “No offense to your father, but you’re ours now. It’d be best if you got used to the idea.”
“Will I become Yu’s Ugly Dog, then?” she asked, looking up.
Despite everything that had happened that evening, the edges of Hong Fei’s lips turned up. “Let’s not go that far yet.”
Characters who’ve been mentioned previously are:
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Scholar Sun Han, a summons
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Chen Wenbin, the xiàowèi of the Yu's soldiers
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Mei Hua, companion to Yu Ning, Black 2
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Rock Head, a resident of the low city with a Red 3
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Yellow's Ugly Dog, a former Rock Knife guard with a Red 3 above her head
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Yu Ning, the new duchess of the Yu family, Black 13