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Xiao Jingfei always hesitated to say she ‘hated’ anything.
Growing up on the mountain, her master was very particular about the use of language. “When you say you ‘hate’ something,” she once lectured Xiao Jingfei as she balanced on one foot atop a wobbling, overturned log, “It implies you have passion for it. One does not ‘hate’ in idleness. You may dislike something, hold it in contempt, revile it, be disgusted by it, but you do not ‘hate’ unless you are willing to dedicate a piece of your heart to these emotions, and your heart should be reserved for worthier matters. Do you understand?”
“Yes, shifu.”
“So how should you have expressed yourself to your shixiong?”
The log shifted again and Xiao Jingfei quickly resettled her weight. “That I prefer raw pig intestines to his cooking.”
Her master paused in her steps and glanced at Xiao Jingfei sidelong. She wasn't smiling, but that was all right—Xiao Jingfei could always tell when her not-smiles were actual smiles, unlike everyone else living on the mountain. “Very descriptive.” She walked off.
Xiao Jingfei called after her, “How long do I have to stay here?” She started to lower her leg and the log jerked dangerously beneath her feet.
“Two incense sticks for being wasteful." It hadn’t been wasteful; the brazier had looked low. "One for your lack of diplomacy.” And then, without bothering to turn around, because her shifu knew Xiao Jingfei better than anyone, “And one for rolling your eyes.”
A single incense stick’s worth of time hadn’t done anything for her skills at diplomacy, as Xiao Jingfei, twenty years on, could attest to herself without unnecessary commentary from her general acquaintance. It had, on the other hand, made her very aware of how to properly communicate when she didn’t care for something and she’d always tried to impress the same thing to her children.
Thus, when A-Yang said, “Ma, I’d rather sleep in a blanket made of stinging nettles than keep sharing a tent with Ying-ge,” she took him at his word.
“Sounds serious,” she replied.
“Very serious,” he agreed. “Please, Mama. He talks when I’m trying to get to sleep. He stays up all night fussing with talismans—” a dangerous habit he’d picked up from her, “—writing letters to Zhan-ge,”—a habit he’d picked up from Qiren, still dangerous considering they’d considered themselves practically engaged since the age of six, “—and he snores.” Damn, also her. Couldn’t A-Chang be slightly less perfect and actually contribute to any of the bad habits to their offspring?
Then again, all A-Chang’s bad habits revolved around his painfully dedicated loyalty and willingness to place himself between his loved ones and harm, no matter the risk to himself, which were bad habits she’d prefer the boys not emulate until they were much, much older.
“Would you prefer to share with Zhu-er?” Their eldest had his own tent, and while she’d prefer to give him his privacy, she also knew he’d rather give up sleeping all together rather than put his brothers out and double damn it was already starting. She and Qiren would have so much work to do.
“No. I would like my own tent.” With a flourish of arms, he began to recite a fairly well-crafted list which had A-Ying written all over it. She wondered exactly how much say her middle son had in convincing his younger brother this was the ideal course of action. “I am old enough. I will not hide candy, knives, dangerous talismans or lizards in my bedroll.” That had been an interesting evening. “I will pitch it right beside yours so you, Baba, and A-Die will always be able to hear me—”
“Okay.”
“—and I will not sneak out to go swimming when…” He blinked. “Really?”
“Really. There will be rules we’ll have to discuss with Baba and A-Die, but you make a compelling case.” She didn’t think she’d imagined the sound of A-Ying quietly celebrating from the branches of a nearby tree. “What was that about sneaking out?”
A branch cracked. A-Ying cursed but seemingly managed to catch his footing before he toppled out and broke something.
Meanwhile, A-Yang’s eyes widened, caught out but refusing to admit to anything—also one of her less than stellar habits. “Nothing.”
With a sigh, Xiao Jingfei stood and went in search of her spouses.
It had become a running joke in their family: send Lan Qiren or Wei Changze to the market alone, and receive a new child for their troubles. Xiao Jingfei had absolutely no trouble with this. The boys brought her an immeasurable sense of joy and she could not imagine their family would be complete without them. She told everyone who would listen that while they’d purchased two of her boys at the market, they’d had to grow A-Ying in a vegetable patch, usually over her middle son’s protests.
(“You did not! Lan Zhan told me there are books in the library that explain how it really happens, and as soon as we’re old enough to read them we’re going to know all the secrets and have twelve kids all on our own!”
Xiao Jingfei felt pretty sure Qiren had come around to the idea and his eye twitching these days was strictly performative. Pretty sure.
Seeing he’d gotten nowhere with her, A-Ying turned on A-Chang. “Baba! Tell them I wasn’t grown in a vegetable patch!” A-Ying whined.
A-Chang, face completely blank, said, “We planted you right next to the squash.”
A-Ying had howled in protest and tackled his father, quickly left a giggling mess through A-Chang’s exploitation of long-mapped ticklish spots.
For weeks, Xiao Yang referred to him as ‘squash-gege’ and while Xiao Jingfei couldn’t say anything with confidence, she suspected he’d been secretly goaded on by Qiren. Indulging in a little pettiness now and then really was the only way to survive parenthood, and no one did petty like GusuLan.)
“The problem isn’t that you bring back children,” she emphasized. “The problem is you also tend to forget why you went to the market in the first place. And if that happens this time, there’s a chance that A-Yang will do something drastic.”
They exchanged similarly guilty looks.
“We’ll remain behind with the boys, then,” Qiren said. “I’ve heard ill rumours about the local town. Probably best for us to stay in camp.” He glanced sidelong at A-Ying and A-Yang. “Perhaps this may serve to allow the boys to meditate on the value of a good night’s sleep while Zhu-er and I work on his guqin fingering.”
“Excellent!” She clapped her hands. “I’ll see you all back before dinner.”
Thus laden down with an impressive list of necessary items for A-Yang to be comfortable on his own, she made her way into Yunping.
Nothing immediately jumped out at her as being worthy of a poor reputation. The streets looked clean, albeit crowded, and she wasn’t immediately accosted for the contents of her purse.
Even when a cart came loose of one wheel and blocked the major street, she considered it only a mild inconvenience and circumvented the minor disaster to take a side street, bringing her within close range of a generous collection of inns, tea houses and brothels. Still she thought, not a terrible town. A bit close to Lanling for her tastes (which tended to run in the opposite direction of Jin Guangshan, considering how he looked at her) but not offensive.
Which was, of course, the moment the door to a brothel flew open and a half-naked woman stumbled outside, clutching a ripped length of silk to her chest to protect what remained of her modesty. A hard-faced man in Qin-crested robes followed close behind her. His sword remained sheathed, but that only made it all the heavier when he brought it down across her shoulders. The woman hit the steps leading to the door, barely managing to keep a hold on the bolt of cloth and failing to break her fall. She tumbled down the last few stairs and hit the street with a gasp of pain.
He kicked her side and prepared to hit her again, stopping only when the cold steel of Xiao Jingfei’s blade came to rest beneath his chin and froze him in place.
“I think that’s enough of that,” she told him icily.
He tried to bring his own sword up to push her away. In a single fluid moment she smacked it out of his hand and returned the tip to its resting place at his throat.
“I didn’t know brothels in Yunping armed their whores,” he spat.
“Do you think I’m a prostitute?” Xiao Jingfei asked calmly.
“You’re a woman,” he said, as though it were the same thing. For a moment, Xiao Jingfei considered killing him, but she wasn’t sure she was the one who’d earned the pleasure.
The woman drew herself up with far more dignity than Xiao Jingfei usually managed in her daily life. She drew the tattered silk around her as though it was a fine shawl, hastily hiding her bleeding palms beneath it. She curtsied to Xiao Jingfei. “Thank you for your assistance, guniang, but you’ve caught us at the moment of a misunderstanding. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“Are you sure? Because I can kill him for you. I’ll even let him fight back if you’d like some entertainment.”
“Bitch.”
Xiao Jingfei casually slapped the flat of her sword into his stomach then tucked the blade back against his neck in two quick movements. He doubled over with the pain but unfortunately managed to keep from cutting his throat open on her sword. “Careful. My temper isn’t as sweet as my new friend’s.”
Others crowded around the door inside the brothel, tittering whispers and shocked gasps coming from the gathered collection of men and women.
“Please,” the woman whispered at Xiao Jingfei’s shoulder. She stood half a foot shorter, even balanced on one remaining shoe, and tucked herself against Xiao Jingfei’s side. Xiao Jingfei was by no means a tall woman; having someone even shorter than her who wasn’t also under the age of twelve was a unique experience. “It’s only going to cause problems if you persist in this.”
“Fine by me.” Causing problems was a field in which Xiao Jingfei’s particular talents excelled.
“Problems for me,” the woman clarified.
Xiao Jingfei’s face twisted in disgust, but she eased back from her angry edge. She affected a bright smile that everyone in Yunmeng would have taken one look at before running off to hide. “You’re in luck. My new friend has interceded on your behalf. If you apologize for being ungallant, I’ll consider the matter settled.”
“Apologize,” the man repeated, flabbergasted.
“Surely you’re familiar with the concept.” She continued sweetly. “If not, we can return to my method of addressing the insult.”
“I would sooner die.”
“I’ll repeat: fine by me.”
Xiao Jingfei’s wrist barely twitched for her sword to open a thin line across his neck. Not enough to do him true harm, but it must have made her point because he quickly stammered out the least sincere string of apologetic nonsense she’d ever heard in her life. Fucking coward. Little wonder he’d abused an unarmed woman when worthier opponents probably sent him running for the horizon.
She turned to her new friend. “Are you satisfied?”
Desperately relieved, the woman nodded. “Yes, please, I am quite satisfied.”
Xiao Jingfei sheathed Tianbi. For a moment, the Qin cultivator looked as though he was considering pressing the point. Apparently, he had more brains than first impressions implied because he straightened and sneered, but made no move to pursue the matter further.
“Oh!” squawked a harried, if otherwise commanding, voice. Xiao Jingfei turned her gaze to see an older woman, presumably the Madame, hastening down the steps. “Master Qin, I am so sorry.” She glared at Xiao Jingfei. “You must allow me to offer my sincerest apologies. I do not know this woman and of course Meng Shi will be severely dealt with for failing to meet your expectations.”
Like hell she would, Xiao Jingfei thought to herself. Before she could say anything, Meng Shi grabbed her wrist and squeezed tightly. Xiao Jingfei only managed to keep her mouth shut through force of will.
“As well she should be,” the man snapped. Bolstered by the Madame’s presence, he flung out his arm to stab an accusing finger Meng Shi’s way. Meng Shi dropped Xiao Jingfei’s arm in favour of bowing, leaving Xiao Jingfei to cross her arms, letting her sword rest prominently against her chest as an important reminder for civility. He dropped his arm immediately and took a step back, conveniently placing the Madame between them. “I have never in my life been so affronted.”
That probably explained his attitude problem. A good bit of affronting did wonders for unwarranted arrogance, as several people of Xiao Jingfei’s personal acquaintance could attest. Hell, she’d married one of them after he’d finally managed to internalize the lesson.
The Madame smiled congenially. “Please, come back inside. I will set you up with worthy company and the best wine you’ll ever taste.”
Satisfied for the moment, the man made his way back into the brothel, the crowd at the entrance parting for him like a river around a rock and dissipating with similar fluidity a moment later and the Madame dogging his heels. All except for a small boy hovering just past the doorway. At first glance, Xiao Jingfei thought he might be younger than A-Yang, tiny as he was, but after he took a cautious step outside it became clear he was probably older than A-Ying by at least a year or two, the keen intelligence in his eyes overshadowed by the worried set of his jaw.
“Mama?” he whispered.
Meng Shi huffed out a breath and set herself to straightening the tattered remains of her clothing. “It’s all right, A-Yao. Not the first time we’ve accidentally upset a client and certainly not the last.” Meng Shi mustered up the weakest smile Xiao Jingfei had ever seen, even compared with two of her sons having been the subjects of abuse for years before coming into her care.
With a furtive look towards Xiao Jingfei, he unfolded himself from the doorway and joined them at the bottom of the steps. This close, Xiao Jingfei spotted an obvious handprint beginning to redden on his face. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”
“It isn’t.”
“I dropped the tea.”
“It was burning your hands.” Meng Shi knelt down and took her son’s hands in hers, then kissed both palms. “It wasn’t fair for the others to ask you to bring it to us like that.” She glanced at Xiao Jingfei. “I was not properly conciliatory.”
Xiao Jingfei’s hand tightened on Tianbi. “My offer is still open.”
“Thank you, guniang, but I don’t believe that will be necessary.” Meng Shi straightened, keeping a hand on her son’s shoulder. “You’re a cultivator.”
“I am. My name is Xiao Jingfei.” She bowed to Meng Shi, who—along with her son—looked shocked by the basic courtesy. Her son, quickly introduced as Meng Yao, studied her through his adorably long lashes.
“May I ask after your sect?” Meng Shi asked, no small amount of hope in her voice.
Complicated question, given the men to whom she was married. Before she could answer, A-Yao piped up, “She doesn’t have any official sect affiliations, A-Niang.”
Xiao Jingfei turned her full attention to him. “How can you tell?”
Meng Yao flushed and tried to duck back behind his mother. Before he could, Meng Shi placed a firm hand on the back of his neck. When he looked at her, she nodded encouragingly. “You have none of the heraldry of a sect. Some of the cloud embroidery on your robes looks like it might be from Gusu, but you’re not wearing a ribbon. You don’t have a vermillion mark or clarity bell or sun reliefs. And you don’t wield a sabre. Most of the smaller sects are particular about their appearance since they don’t want to be mistaken as members of the larger clans. And your sword is better quality craftsmanship than you can get from a hundred li around here, so you probably travelled quite far to get it. It makes me think you’re probably a rogue cultivator.”
“I smithed it myself,” Xiao Jingfei told him. He nodded, as though she’d confirmed a suspicion. “That’s very impressive. You obviously know quite a bit about cultivators.”
Meng Shi bowed to Xiao Jingfei. “Thank you for your praise. A-Yao is very clever, and has been studying everything he can about cultivation to follow in his father’s footsteps.”
“Ah.”
The Madame reappeared in the doorway, her face still twisted and sour. She did not rush to them, now her business interests had been protected. She alighted down the steps with every evidence of grace, an empty smile fixed firmly on her face that Meng Shi and Meng Yao quickly echoed with their own, expressionless eyes.
“Return inside,” she ordered Meng Shi. Then, once she turned towards Xiao Jingfei, “I’m sure there can be nothing else to keep you here now that you have seen to it my client has been embarrassed beyond belief.”
Remembering Meng Shi’s earlier, silent pleading for her to remain out of it, Xiao Jingfei didn’t offer to make sure the lesson had stuck. “Thank you, but we were having a conversation.”
“The women here are more than welcome to talk to paying clients.”
“She won’t take up too much more of my time,” Meng Shi stated. “Thank you for your patience.” She curtsied deeply. “I do not believe there is anyone currently seeking my company, if the gentleman has been attended to.”
“Nor will there be again if this reoccurs,” the Madame snapped. “Do you think your ‘qualifications’ will save you if word of this gets out?” Meng Shi’s smile remained firmly in place. When the Madame did not receive more of a rise, she huffed. “I expect you promptly back inside.” She turned on her heel and strode back into the brothel.
“How obliging,” Xiao Jingfei said flatly.
“Our livelihoods depend on being obliging, Xiao-guniang,” Meng Shi told her, a hint of steel in her voice. “One way or another.” Before Xiao Jingfei could comment, Meng Shi shook her head. “If you’ll excuse us.”
“I won’t, yet.” They regarded her with the same intense assessment in their eyes. Feeling unaccountably awkward, Xiao Jingfei rubbed her nose before sniffing and squaring her shoulders. “It’s not fair you should suffer because of what that asshole did.” Because, from the look in the Madame’s eyes, she couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t.
“Such is life,” Meng Shi stated.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing,” Meng Shi said, exasperation creeping into her voice.
“But—”
“You do not appreciate the position I am in. If you bring more trouble to my door…” She glanced meaningfully at Meng Yao. While the boy kept his gaze trained on the ground, his shoulders stiffened under the scrutiny. “It would not be a welcome interference.”
“Come with me, then,” Xiao Jingfei volunteered. “It’s not an easy life, but it has to be better than going back in there.”
Meng Shi scoffed out a humourless laugh. “This life is what I know. I am renowned in my field for my talents. Moreover, my contract cannot be bought for any paltry sum.”
Xiao Jingfei’s jaw clenched. “Fuck your contract,” she said baldly. At Meng Shi’s side, Meng Yao gasped.
“And when I walk away and am pursued for what remains of my life for breaking it, I will then be the one fucked.” She placed a hand atop Xiao Jingfei’s. “You have a poor understanding of such affairs. This much is obvious. You will have to trust that I am not interested in living my life as a fugitive when I am usually comfortable here.”
“But—”
“I am quite firm on this point,” Meng Shi interrupted. Her gaze turned calculating. “If you are interested in doing me a service, then perhaps I might appeal to you to take my son on as a student.”
“Mama,” Meng Yao whispered in horror.
Meng Shi’s face softened and she touched his hair. “A-Yao, you will never know what you need to know to impress your father if you remain here. Books can only teach you so much.” Books, unless written by real cultivators, did not teach anything at all. And given their circumstances, Xiao Jingfei found it likely they had been unable to get their hands on anything which would provide quality instruction. “You are destined to grow greater than the humble soil in which you have been planted.”
The words brought to mind A-Ying, their ridiculous little squash. Xiao Jingfei realized, in that moment, she wasn't leaving without him. And, oh, they were never going to let her hear the end of this. “I’d be honoured,” Xiao Jingfei agreed.
“There, A-Yao. It is settled. Go and pack your things.”
Despite looking as though he wanted to protest further, the boy scurried off and Meng Shi took a bracing breath. “I don’t have much to help pay for his needs—”
“Oh, that’s not—”
“But I beg you take this.” Meng Shi produced what looked like a pearl at first glance. Sizable, definitely. If it had been anything more than polished rock, it might have been very valuable indeed. “His father gave it to me. I’ve been saving it to help him pay his way to Koi Tower to join him, but if he could learn from you in advance, it would help his chances of being accepted.”
“Koi Tower,” Xiao Jingfei repeated. “His father is a Jin cultivator, then?”
Meng Shi turned down her eyes. “Yes, though not one in a position to support him at the moment.”
“And…” How to be diplomatic? She knew this. She had countless incense sticks’ worth of practice. “He presented you with this pearl as an object of great worth?”
Meng Shi, clever as her son, looked at the bauble in her hands and, with a resigned sigh, cast it away from her. It hit the ground and broke into two pieces, the larger of which rolling only a short distance before toppling over. She stared at it, bereft.
“Meng Yao’s father is Jin-zongzhu,” she stated after a long moment. Xiao Jingfei found her acting skills suddenly wanting for an expression of surprise.
“Then when you say he’s not in a position to support him…”
“I do not mean financially, no. And it’s slowly becoming apparent that he’s lied to me about a great many things.” She closed her eyes a moment, her lips pressing tightly together. When she opened them again, new resolve burned in her gaze. “May I speak plainly?” Meng Shi asked. Xiao Jingfei nodded. “I am dying. There is rot in my breast that cannot be cured. I have managed to keep such a thing from A-Yao—” Given how clever the boy seemed, Xiao Jingfei doubted it “—and I have no wish for him to discover it. I cannot allow my son to watch me die.
“Take him with you. Find a way to break his confidence in his father. The man has never been worthy of A-Yao and has broken every promise he ever made to me. In only a few moments you have done more for me, and him, than his father ever has.” She grabbed Xiao Jingfei’s hands in a surprisingly tight grip. “Do not allow him to go to Koi Tower. It will be his ruin.”
“As you wish.”
“Be a mentor and a mother, while I cannot be.”
“Meng Yao will always know that he has a mother. A very capable one, who obviously loves him very much.” Meng Shi’s forehead creased, smoothing again when Xiao Jingfei patted her hands. “But we’ll take care to treat him as one of our own.” She spotted Meng Yao returning and raised her voice. “I can already tell he’ll be a very good student. And my sons will delight in having him with us.”
“Sons?” Meng Yao said, the warring fear, hope and curiosity in his voice heartbreaking.
“Oh yes. Three ranging from eight to eighteen. You’re almost of age with our middle son, I think. Maybe a hair older. They’ll love you and torture you terribly.” Meng Yao looked fairly alarmed, but Xiao Jingfei wanted to make sure to set expectations well in advance.
Meng Yao’s bag looked barely large enough to hold a single set of proper travelling clothes. Obviously they’d need to rectify that immediately. They’d also have to seek out her preferred smith in Meishan to begin working on a sword; A-Yang had long been after them to commission his, anyway.
“A-Niang,” Meng Yao whispered.
Meng Shi’s voice came out strong. “No crying. You know as well as I that a smile takes you far further than tears do.” Meng Yao’s lower lip trembled, but he nodded nonetheless. Meng Shi stroked his cheek, her own face twisting in remorse despite her efforts to fight it down. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Meng Yao threw himself into his mother’s arms. “May I write to you?”
“As often as you wish, my love.”
“Every day,” Meng Yao promised. He squeezed her once more and then stepped back, hurriedly dashing the tears from his cheeks. For a child of eleven, if that, he had remarkable poise. He offered Xiao Jingfei a tremulous smile, his mother’s words obviously taken to heart. It broke her, a little; A-Chang had been much the same when they’d first met, desperate to hide every injury beneath genial smiles.
Meng Shi waved them away from the brothel’s steps. Xiao Jingfei felt her eyes on them as they made their way back to the main streets, and Meng Yao twisted around five times before his shoulders slumped and he resigned himself to facing forward.
When they reached the main street, now cleared of the ruckus, Xiao Jingfei gently aimed him back towards the markets.
“Are we not leaving town?” Meng Yao asked.
Xiao Jingfei clapped his shoulder. “Not yet. Unlike my spouses, I actually remember what I came here for.”