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The newly constructed Green Forest Pavilion stood proud near Mount Hua's base, its architecture a deliberate statement of reformed banditry attempting respectability.
It was still a work in progress.
The main building housed what was officially called "The Financial Advisory Office," though everyone had their own name for it.
The Nokrim bandits called it "Finance Head's Office."
The Hwasan disciples and Cheonumaeng allies called it "The Nokrim King's Lair."
Cheongmyeong called it "That Sapa Bastard's Expensive Nest."
The door swung open.
. . .
"What are you doing?"
Cheongmyeong stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes immediately narrowing with suspicion.
The office was... unusual.
Large windows on three sides allowed cross-ventilation, the spring breeze carrying the scent of blossoms and... something else.
Something herbal.
Medicinal.
Sweet.
Ugh.
Too sweet.
Im Sobyeong stood at a long mahogany table, surrounded by an array of clay pots, ceramic bowls, and various implements that looked more suited to an alchemist's laboratory than a normal financial office.
Steam rose from several vessels.
The scent of brewing herbs.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
"Oh, Cheongmyeong Dojang." Sobyeong's smile was as serene as a Buddha statue and twice as infuriating. "Welcome to this advisor's humble office."
"Humble?"
Cheongmyeong's gaze swept the room with undisguised disdain.
Silk curtains in subdue grass color.
Hand-carved furniture that probably cost more than feeding Mount Hua's entire sect for a month.
Decorative vases and paintings that screamed, "I have more money than sense."
Two lounging couches were positioned near the windows, overlooking a carefully maintained garden that was currently exploding with spring growth.
"Hmmm, maybe if I strip some of those gaudy curtains, crush that long mahogany table, and destroy a few vases, it'll be more humble."
"Dojang, you jest."
"Do I?"
But Cheongmyeong was already walking inside, his interest caught despite himself.
The table held his attention now.
Various herbs were laid out in neat rows. Clay pots bubbled gently over small spirit lamps.
The setup was meticulous, organized, and clearly the work of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
Sobyeong picked up a small ceramic cup and offered it.
"'He shou wu decoction'. Excellent for qi circulation and general vitality."
Cheongmyeong took it without hesitation and drank it in one shot.
Bitter.
Slightly sweet, because of the goji berries.
The warmth spread through his meridians almost immediately.
Not bad.
"Nokrim is making an effort to reform their image," Sobyeong said conversationally, turning back to his preparations. "We're looking into distributing quality herbal products. Medicine that's good for people's health. Teas. Tonics. Things that can be inhaled or consumed for wellness."
His hands moved, rolling something small and dark between his fingers.
"We want to show that the Green Forest can contribute positively to the Jianghu's well-being."
Cheongmyeong watched those elegant fingers work.
Something about the motion was too practiced.
A bit too deft.
His eyes narrowed.
"That's opium."
Sobyeong's hands didn't pause.
His smile didn't falter.
"Ah, yes. It is indeed opium paste, Dojang. How knowledgeable."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
"Don't make a new opium den near Mount Hua, you Sapa bastard."
"Nokrim doesn't intend to expand our business into the dark market." Sobyeong's tone was perfectly reasonable, which somehow made it worse. "This is a new batch from a supplier we're... evaluating. I wanted to test the quality. For knowledge's sake."
"Just say you want to get high."
"That too."
The honesty was almost refreshing.
Almost.
"Give me one."
"Wait, Dojang..." For the first time, Sobyeong's composure cracked slightly. "A young Taoist shouldn't dabble in this kind of activit—"
"Want me to destroy your pavilion?"
The smile returned, soft and patient.
"Of course not, Dojang. I'll prepare it for you."
++
The spring afternoon stretched long and lazy through the windows.
Cheongmyeong sprawled on one of the couches with the casual grace of a black cat claiming territory, one arm behind his head, facing the garden view.
The leaves rustled.
The air carried a chill that wasn't quite cold, just crisp enough to be pleasant.
Sobyeong settled onto the opposite couch with considerably more elegance, though the end result was the same.
Two men lounging like they had all the time in the world.
Between them, a small table held the opium lamp and its necessary implements.
Sobyeong's hands moved with the practiced efficiency of ritual.
He took two small pieces of raw opium paste, each about the size of a pea, and rolled them onto the tip of long needles with delicate precision.
"This isn't your first time," Cheongmyeong observed.
"Certainly not, Dojang."
Sobyeong held the needles over the lamp's flame, slowly rotating it. The opium began to soften, bubble, and release its sweet, distinctive fragrance into the air.
"But I use it sparingly now. My cough is more manageable with the Jasodan you so generously gifted to me."
"You shouldn't smoke at all."
"Just once in a blue moon."
"Tsk."
The opium had transformed under the heat, becoming viscous and pliable.
With fingers wrapped in cloth, Sobyeong quickly rolled each piece into a denser, smaller pill and inserted them into the tiny holes of their respective pipe bowls with the ease of long practice.
He passed one pipe to Cheongmyeong.
They moved in sync.
Placing the bowls upside-down over the lamp's flame, bringing the mouthpieces to their lips.
One long, slow inhale.
For 10-20 seconds.
. . .
The opium vaporized completely, filling their lungs with sweet, heavy smoke.
.
They held it.
.
Exhaled.
"Fuuh."
. . .
The smoke curled between them, catching the afternoon light.
"This is a fine product," Cheongmyeong said, his voice already taking on that distant, floating quality.
"Indeed. The quality exceeded the price."
Sobyeong prepared another round with unhurried movements. "The supplier may be worth maintaining relations with."
The ritual repeated.
Toast. Roll. Insert.
Inhale.
. . .
Hold.
Exhale.
"Fuuh."
The smoke thickened in the office, turning the spring sunlight hazy and dreamlike.
Sobyeong's eyes, already slightly glazed, focused on Cheongmyeong with sudden interest.
"You've tried this before, Dojang?"
"Long time ago."
"Don't make it a habit."
Cheongmyeong snorted. "Right back at you."
. . .
They fell into comfortable silence.
.
The garden rustled beyond the windows.
.
Time felt... softer.
Less urgent.
"So," Sobyeong's voice drifted across the space between them, lazy and curious. "I've heard it's acceptable for Mount Hua Taoists to marry. Do you plan to, Cheongmyeong Dojang?"
"Marriage?"
Cheongmyeong didn't open his eyes.
"Nope. Not in this life."
"Heh."
They fell into another silence, disturbed only by the soft sounds of preparation and inhalation.
Sobyeong exhaled another stream of smoke.
Fuuuh-
"A pity. Marriage can be strategically advantageous. Securing alliances and partnerships. Like catching two birds with one worm."
"You mean killing two birds with one stone."
"Ah, yes. That's what I meant."
The admission came too easily, words slipping out in the opium haze without their usual careful consideration.
. . .
Cheongmyeong cracked one eye open.
"Why don't you get married? You're old enough."
"I have no suitable suitor."
"So you've had a lot of suitors then?" Cheongmyeong's lips curved slightly. "Popular, aren't you?"
"You could say so, Dojang."
A flutter of wings caught Sobyeong's attention.
Through the haze of opium smoke, he watched a small bird land on the branch of the flowering crabapple tree just outside the window.
Red-billed leiothrix.
Its plumage was a riot of color. Yellow throat, orange-red beak, and olive-green back.
A moment later, another landed beside it.
They perched close together on the branch, preening each other's feathers with the casual intimacy of long companionship.
. . .
Sobyeong watched them for a long moment, his expression unreadable through the smoke.
"Speaking of strategic advantages..." Sobyeong's voice drifted, contemplative. "Spring is excellent for procurement. Seasonal herbs. Chrysanthemum buds, fresh goji shoots, and young astragalus roots. The prices drop when harvested in season."
"Hnngh."
Cheongmyeong made a sound that might have been agreement.
"Nokrim is negotiating with several suppliers. If we time the purchases correctly, we can secure enough stock for the entire year at half the autumn price."
Or it might have been him falling asleep.
Sobyeong glanced over.
He still awake.
Barely.
So he landed a final attack.
"The distribution network will need to account for preservation methods. Dried versus fresh. Some herbs lose potency, others gain it..."
Cheongmyeong nodded slowly, his eyes tracking something outside the window with the lazy focus of the pleasantly intoxicated.
Another bird, a fledgling, had landed on the crabapple branch.
Now there were three.
"You're seriously sticking to Hwasan, huh?"
Sobyeong set down his pipe and reached for one of the herbal decoctions he'd prepared earlier.
He drank it in one smooth motion, the bitter liquid cutting through the sweet opium haze just enough to sharpen his thoughts.
"Wherever you go, Nokrim will follow, Dojang."
He set the cup down.
His smile was soft and distant.
"After all, it's the most profitable course of action."
. . .
The conversation drifted into silence again.
Peaceful.
. . .
Too peaceful.
++
Sobyeong wasn't sure how much time had passed.
The opium made time... irrelevant.
But the quality of the silence had changed.
No more soft exhaled from the other couch.
He turned his head, movements languid, to check on his companion.
Cheongmyeong was asleep.
Completely, utterly asleep.
His head tilted back against the couch, mouth slightly open, a thin line of drool trailing down his chin.
His expression was... peaceful.
Relaxed in a way Sobyeong had never seen before.
No furrow between his brows.
No tension in his shoulders.
No coiled readiness to spring into violence at a moment's notice.
Just... sleep.
Funny.
The great Hwasan Geomhyeop felled by a single session of opium smoking.
. . .
Meanwhile, Sobyeong was getting increasingly, pleasantly high.
He reached over carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping swordsman and took Cheongmyeong's pipe.
The opium had burned completely, leaving only ash.
He tapped it out onto the earthen plate designated for waste, setting the pipe neatly on the tea table within Cheongmyeong's reach.
Then he returned his attention to his own pipe.
Prepared another pill with movements that were perhaps slightly less precise than before but still functional.
Toast. Roll. Insert.
Inhale.
.
Hold.
"Fuuh."
The afternoon light was turning golden now.
Sobyeong let his head fall back against the couch, watching the smoke curl and dance in the air, turning the world soft and hazy and beautifully distant.
In the garden, plum blossoms drifted past the window.
On the other couch, Cheongmyeong drooled.
All in all, Sobyeong thought with profound contentment, it was an excellent afternoon.