Chapter Text
A few days after Jiang Yanli turned seven years old, her mother informed her that Lotus Pier would be welcoming Jin-zongzhu, Madam Jin, and Jin Zixuan—the boy she would be expected to marry.
“Nothing is formalized yet,” Yu Ziyuan said as her maids helped Jiang Yanli into the terribly formal new robes they’d bought for the occasion. They were of the Yu style, in deference to her mother’s connection to Madam Jin, and quite a bit heavier than what she was used to wearing.
“Why not?” Jiang Yanli asked.
Her mother hummed under her breath, but did not answer.
(Much later, Jiang Yanli discovered why: Jin-zongzhu had interfered in the negotiations, unwilling to ‘leave it to the women, who will put feelings before sense. Let the men discuss what is best for our sects.’)
When Jin-zongzhu, Madam Jin, and Jin Zixuan arrived, Jiang Yanli stood next to her parents in her formal new robes and wished she had something to hold to keep her hands from shaking. Her mother said that fidgeting betrayed weakness, but without anything to hide behind Jiang Yanli felt exposed.
Throughout the formal greetings, Jin Zixuan glared at her. Jiang Yanli did not flinch away from the look, though it did make her stomach churn unpleasantly. She considered ducking behind her mother to hide from his scowl, but changed her mind when she thought about how her mother would react. She’d disappointed A-Niang earlier in the week, unable to reach a breakthrough in her training. Her golden core stubbornly refused to channel her spiritual energy properly, even though her mother’s had been well on its way at the same age, and her mother despaired over her weakness.
Da-Shijie promised her that such things took time and careful work. Jiang Yanli tried to remember her words every time her mother looked at her with disappointment.
“Ah, my dear friend,” Jin-zongzhu said, clapping her father’s arms once they’d completed the formal bows. “Such good fortune brings us together.”
“Our wives are indeed our good fortune,” Jiang Fengmian replied. Jiang Yanli thought the words were kind, but her mother stiffened at his side.
“Then we truly are rich men,” Jin-zongzhu waved to him. “Come, show us to your hall.”
Jiang Yanli nodded silently when her mother commanded her to show Jin Zixuan Lotus Pier. She loved her home. She walked with him past the lotus ponds down to the docks, relieved when he chose not to speak with her. He might be a glowering storm cloud at her side, but she had beautiful things to show him. She pointed out the things she found the most lovely—intricate carvings in the wood, the care and attention they put into the lotus ponds lining the pathways—but each word seemed to make him angrier.
When they finally reached the docks, he finally burst out with, “I’m not going to marry you!”
Jiang Yanli tried and failed not to be hurt. “Why?”
They were at the very edge of Lotus Pier, near the main road which ran alongside the river. There were people walking upon it close enough to hear him yelling and blood rushed into her cheeks as shame swept through her. One of the passersby, a rogue cultivator judging by the sword in his grasp and simplicity of his robes, paused and looked directly at them.
“Girls are stupid,” Jin Zixuan yelled. “And my cousin says I should be allowed to choose for myself instead of getting stuck with you!”
Jiang Yanli’s face twisted up and her lower lip began to tremble. Jiang Yanli knew what her mother would do, but she had no spiritual tool at her beck and call. How would her father respond to such an insult? She reached for something, anything, to say. “You don’t need to be cruel.”
Jin Zixuan’s expression changed from anger to outrage. “Cruel? I am the Jin sect heir! You’re nothing. You’re just a stupid girl.”
Jiang Yanli felt the first stirrings of anger. She hated being angry. It left her feeling hot and guilty for hours afterwards. It had always been easier to push such feelings down and away, hiding them from the light of day and meditating them away once night fell. But she’d had enough of being made to feel ashamed. Her mother might despair over her lack of talent but she was the heir of YunmengJiang and Jin Zixuan had no right to insult her in this way!
She bowed. “Jin-gongzi,” she said, as properly as she knew how, “I may be a stupid girl, but at least I have good manners.”
Jin Zixuan stared at her for a moment, his face pale with rage. And then he jerked forward to storm past her, his shoulder crashing into hers. Jiang Yanli gasped and stumbled backwards, her feet catching on her long draping skirts. Unable to regain her balance, she tripped and toppled backwards, plunging into the chilly river waters of early spring.
She was a strong swimmer, but the unexpected weight of her new robes dragged her down. The unfamiliar cut tangled around her legs and kept her from kicking back up towards the daylight overhead, which grew dimmer every moment. She clawed upwards, trying to remember the wisdom Da-Shijie had passed on while teaching her to swim, all now fled in her panic. She gasped in fright, dragging a mouthful of water into her lungs.
Jiang Yanli felt the water around her violently shift as someone dove in. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, and she had only a moment to think A-Die has come to save me, before her vision went black.
She woke up with a cough that tasted like riverweed, a strong hand repeatedly smacking her back to help clear her lungs. She leaned into her father’s chest and burst into hiccoughing sobs, each one interrupted as she kept coughing out water. It went up her nose; it hurt.
Her mother was yelling. Her father effortlessly stood with her still in his arms, taller than she'd expected, which was the moment she realized this wasn’t her father. Startled, her crying died away and she looked up at a young man in simple black robes, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years of age, looking down at her with concern. His robes were wet and his hair clung to his scalp. They stared at one another as her mother came ripping down to the end of the pier, followed by her maids and, well back, her father and Madam Jin.
“A-Li!” her mother cried, reaching them. She grabbed Jiang Yanli into her arms, holding her tight as Jiang Yanli coughed out more water. A-Niang half-collapsed to the ground, her embrace wrapped like iron around Jiang Yanli. Her clothes began to soak through, but she barely seemed to notice.
It took A-Niang several long moments to compose herself, longer than Jiang Yanli had ever seen her distress. Her mother’s anger burned long, but it was a cold fire. Seeing her face twisted in fear made Jiang Yanli want to burrow into her arms and never leave again, even though her mother rarely touched anyone.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“The boy pushed her,” the slow, calm voice of Jiang Yanli’s hero replied.
Her mother came up short, as though she hadn’t noticed the stranger before. “Zhao Zhuliu?”
“Violet Spider.” The man bowed. “I was coming to pay my respects while passing through Yunmeng and saw the commotion.” His brow furrowed and he nervously tucked his hands behind his back. “I did not harm her.”
“Obviously not!” A-Niang snapped. For some reason, he looked stricken at the words. A-Niang looked down at Jiang Yanli and then cast her eyes back to Jinzhu and Yinzhu, only now just reaching their side. “Take Zhao-gongzi inside. Find him hot tea, warm food, dry clothing.”
Her maids obeyed. Once they’d gone, and A-Niang had glared away the Jiang disciples who’d dared stray too close, she turned her attention back to Jiang Yanli. “What happened?” she asked again.
Jiang Yanli sniffled miserably. But she didn’t want her mother to be angry any more than she wanted her to be scared. “I fell.”
“A young lady of YuMeishan blood does not simply ‘fall,’” her mother said. “Tell me. Was what he said true?”
Jiang Yanli pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Yes. Jin Zixuan pushed me.” She burst into tears again.
Her mother took in an audible, shaking breath. With terribly careful movements, she used the corner of her sleeve to wipe the tears from Jiang Yanli’s eyes.
“Come. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She did not offer Jiang Yanli her hand, but she did walk a touch closer to than usual.
They passed where Madam Jin scolded Jin Zixuan.
Jin Zixuan sneered at Jiang Yanli as she passed. “Maybe people who live near rivers should know how to swim.”
Jiang Yanli’s heart skipped a beat. Anger the likes of which she’d never felt before tore its way through her. Before she knew what she was doing, she pounced on Jin Zixuan with an angry yell. Her robes were still drenched with river water and shockingly heavy, but she barely noticed as she landed a blow on Jin Zixuan’s cheek, a scream of wordless anger tearing its way from her throat.
She kneed him in the ribs and scratched his cheek before her father pulled her off and away.
“A-Li!” A-Die snapped, “This is not how a proper young woman behaves.”
“No,” agreed her mother. Jiang Yanli froze, suddenly realizing how much trouble she’d be in because she couldn’t control herself. “But it is how a young woman of Yu behaves when insulted.” She looked at Jin Zixuan coldly. Jiang Yanli had never heard her mother claim her on behalf of MeishanYu before.
“Ziyuan,” Madam Jin sighed, helping Jin Zixuan stand. “This is hardly helpful.”
“‘Helpful,’” Yu Ziyuan repeated. She locked eyes with Madam Jin. “Fengmian, put our daughter down.”
Her father released her. Jiang Yanli’s first inclination was to run somewhere and hide from the swell of emotions storming inside her like a late summer storm. Instead, with as much dignity as she could manage, she returned to her mother’s side. Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder, even though her robes were still wet.
“‘Helpful,’” Yu Ziyuan said again, ice colder than any winter wind. “Why do you feel I am required to be helpful in this instance? Did your son not nearly drown my child and heir to this sect?”
Madam Jin sighed, as though Yu Ziyuan were being unreasonable. “All a misunderstanding. Boys play rougher than young ladies of A-Li’s constitution. I’m sure once they get to know one another, we’ll see they are much better suited than implied by this unfortunate first impression.”
“A-Li, you should apologize to Jin-gongzi for striking him,” A-Die said. A-Niang took in a stiff breath through her nose.
Jiang Yanli looked back to Jin Zixuan. His glare turned into a smirk with her father’s command.
“Fengmian—” A-Niang began.
Her father raised a hand. “It is better to maintain peace, my lady,” he said. “Now, A-Li.”
A-Niang said she was a young lady of Yu. It made her think of the clan motto: We remember what is owed. Did she owe Jin Zixuan an apology? When he hadn’t offered her one and no one had told him to. And now he stood there, smiling at her because she’d hit him in front of the adults and now she was the one in trouble.
“No,” Jiang Yanli said simply. She turned and bowed to her parents. “I will go and kneel in the ancestral hall for disobeying you, A-Die.”
She walked away, dripping water all the way across the courtyard. No one called after her or demanded she return. She walked past Jin-zongzhu as he emerged from their receiving hall.
He laughed at her. “What a soggy young mistress! Shall we call you Shui-guniang?” Young Mistress Water. Jiang Yanli thought about stepping on his foot, but hurting Sect Leader Jin would be quite a bit more serious than punching his horrible, unkind son.
“Call me what you’d like, Jin-zongzhu,” Jiang Yanli said. It wouldn’t matter what he called her; she refused to ever set foot in Koi Tower.
She changed once she reached her room, despairing that she’d lost one of the pretty new pins with which her mother had decorated her hair. She tugged the rest free from her tangled wet locks and replaced them with her simpler, everyday ornaments once she brushed the knots free. Once she felt a bit better, or at least dryer, she made her way to kneel.
No one came to her in the ancestral hall. She wondered how much trouble she’d be in once her mother and father had a chance to speak in private.
She decided, shoulders heaving, that no matter how much trouble she got into, she would never apologize to Jin Zixuan. Never. Even if they beat her, she’d refuse.
She bowed to her grandparents and silently asked for guidance.
She hated feeling this way. Jiang Yanli liked the warm feelings that filled her when she was kind. This sort of anger made her feel like she’d fallen back into the river, chilled from the crown of her head to her toes. If she’d stayed in the river, maybe she’d eventually stop feeling warmth all together.
The thought made her want to cry. But, more than anything, it made her want to be even kinder.
(Except to Jin Zixuan.)
Jinzhu arrived before more than a single stick of incense had the chance to burn low.
“Come, A-Li,” she said, “Your mother has dismissed you from the dining hall. Yinzhu and I will eat with you tonight.”
Heartened—if this was supposed to be her punishment, she’d have to make a point of hitting stupid boys far more often—she took Jinzhu’s hand and followed her out the door.
Jiang Yanli’s door slid open that night. She turned over and blinked into the darkness, only half-chased away by her brazier, and saw her mother at the door.
“A-Niang?”
“Go back to sleep, A-Li,” her mother whispered.
Jiang Yanli did her best to obey and rolled over. She’d almost nodded off again when she felt her mother slide into her bed next to her and pull her into a tight embrace. Another long moment later, her mother began shaking, hiding her tears in Jiang Yanli’s hair. Jiang Yanli did her best to pretend it wasn’t happening, but she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing her mother’s hands where they crossed over her chest.
Her mother said nothing more, but held her close until Jiang Yanli fell asleep once again.
The next day, Jiang Yanli stood next to Zhao Zhuliu as her mother announced that no engagement would take place between her and Jin Zixuan. Madam Jin looked superbly displeased but unsurprised. Jin-zongzhu merely shrugged and turned to A-Die to suggest they continue with their conversation from the previous day. Jin Zixuan scowled at A-Li as best he could with one eye swollen shut.
Zhao Zhuliu had borrowed Jiang-crested robes, though they did not fit him very well. His shoulders were too broad, and the sleeves did not fall past his wrists. She stayed close at his side, relief and disappointment at war inside her. Disappointment won, but only because she was more disappointed that Jin Zixuan had proven so ungallant when all she’d wanted was to show him the beauty of her home and maybe become his friend.
Yu Ziyuan and Madam Jin seemed to have nothing to say to one another. Once Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan had disappeared into her father’s sitting room, Yu Ziyuan ordered Jinzhu and Yinzhu to take their guest and her son on a carriage ride to explore the nearby marketplace.
“There are some excellent shops and teahouses,” Yu Ziyuan said coolly. “Don’t rush back.”
Madam Jin offered an abortive bow and dragged Jin Zixuan out by the elbow. Once they were gone, Yu Ziyuan turned to Zhao Zhuliu.
“You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” she told him. “I have talked to Jiang-zongzhu about offering you a formal place as a disciple of YunmengJiang if that would encourage you to stay.”
Zhao Zhuliu’s face clouded over and he took a broad step away from Jiang Yanli. “The Violet Spider should know why I have left my home sect.”
“I’m sure I can guess,” she said. She glanced at Jiang Yanli. “But it is no less than what we owe you for your service. Should you wish to remain, Lotus Pier will always be open to you.”
Zhao Zhuliu considered this carefully. Jiang Yanli reached out to touch his hand. He snapped it back, but did not seem offended at her presumption. Instead, he looked almost scared.
“Can you control it?” Yu Ziyuan asked.
“I can.”
“Then I fail to see the problem. Whatever indignities your family pressed upon you, they will not be repeated here.”
Zhao Zhuliu hesitantly lowered the hand he’d kept cradled against his chest since Jiang Yanli had tried to take it. When she reached for it again, this time he did not pull away.
“Does it hurt, Zhao-gongzi?” Jiang Yanli asked.
He stared at her fingers wrapped around his hand, her thumb resting in the middle of his palm. Her own hands looked tiny in comparison; her fingers barely made it to his middle finger.
“No,” he croaked. “No, it doesn’t hurt.” She smiled at him. Zhao Zhiliu felt safe. “Should you bid me stay, Madam Yu, then I shall.”
“Good. I’ll tell the tailors to come for a proper fitting so you won’t embarrass us by dressing in such obviously ill-fitting robes. In the meantime, perhaps you might instruct my daughter in how to properly hit an opponent. Her first swing was good, but relying on fingernails is folly when they are easily bent or broken.”
Jiang Yanli quickly glanced down at her hands, but all of her nails thankfully seemed to be intact.
Thus, the Jin left.
Zhao Zhuliu remained.
Zhao Zhuliu lived half his life in nightmares.
Before leaving Zhoushan, it had been well more than half.
It took his hostess less than a week to notice the bags collected under his eyes as he slowly blinked over his breakfast.
“You are not sleeping,” Madam Yu stated one morning. Not a question. He nodded. There was little harm in admitting such a thing, and she had more than earned his honestly. “Why?”
Lotus Pier had a rotation of guards who patrolled on a regular schedule. Accustomed to sleeping lightly in order to brace himself whenever another person entered his rooms—always for violent purpose—Zhao Zhuliu woke whenever they passed within twenty feet of his door. Every night at intervals of a quarter sichen. He tensed each time, preparing himself, and only slept again once the steps had fully faded into the distance.
He hesitated to own the truth. After all, what right did he have to complain? Worse, what if she suspected that his discomfort reflected ill intentions? Who, besides the guilty, would fret over competent guards?
Nevertheless, he allowed the tilt of her eyebrow to pry the truth from his lips.
“Hm. Jinzhu!” she called at the end of his halting confession. Her maid bowed. “See to it that Zhao Zhuliu is moved to a room in the back eastern wing.”
After breakfast, Jinzhu tutted wordlessly over his meagre collection of personal belongings, but obligingly escorted him to a new room. Slightly smaller, but well away from the common walkways. The room itself backed onto the river, a broad stretch of water which audibly lapped against the support pillars beneath the floor, a lulling and gentle sound which blocked out most of the noise beyond his door.
That evening, he shoved a knife into the frame to keep it from being opened, and passed out, dead to the world until the next morning. Perhaps his exhaustion had been more obvious than he’d suspected… Madam Yu nodded at him when they met again for a shared meal, as if able to see that he’d managed a full night of sleep.
Zhao Zhuliu could not remember the last time he had slept through the night. As a child, perhaps, younger than Jiang-guniang. Before his golden core had begun sputtering in his lower dantian and they realized what the fortune-teller had meant when she told his mother that she had conceived him on a most inauspicious date. His mother, a talented cultivator of Meishan, had spat and ordered for ‘that old charlatan’ to be beaten and removed.
He often wondered if it wouldn’t have been better for both of them if she’d listened and ordered Zhao Zhuliu drowned in his swaddling cloths instead.
After the meal, he took time to observe the disciples in their training. His feet unconsciously twitched and slid, mimicking their movements. When the Head Disciple glanced his way, he bid a hasty retreat instead of being called out over the disrespect. He was not formally part of YunmengJiang, and doubtless they would take exception to his interest in their training regime. Zhao Zhuliu had no doubt that Madam Yu would eventually tire of his presence and demand he remove himself from her territory. Even allowing him to remain this long, in a safe place out of sight from anyone who might carry word of his presence back to his uncle, felt impossibly gracious. He’d resigned himself to leaving, likely sooner rather than later, but wished to relish this short and rare span of peace as long as possible.
He passed Jiang-zongzhu and bowed deeply to the man.
“Ah?” Jiang Fengmian looked him up and down. “Oh. You’re my lady’s young friend.” Zhao Zhuliu carefully rose, keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground. He’d hit a growth spurt at thirteen which shot him up taller than all of the men in his family and most of the other disciples in ZhoushanZhao; in his experience, other men did not care to be loomed over by someone significantly younger than they were. “You had something to do with my daughter’s impromptu swim, is that correct?”
Was… this a trick? Some way to fool him into admitting that he had touched Jiang-guniang, even if only to help her? His uncle had enjoyed playing such tricks, happiest when Zhao Zhuliu chose his words poorly and invited repercussions. But Zhao Zhuliu only remained in Lotus Pier by the grace of its leadership, thus he answered as quietly as possible and prayed it was the response the man was looking for. “Yes, zongzhu. I helped her out of the water.”
“Good, good.” He chuckled. “Well done.”
Jiang Fengmian left, politely not mentioning it when Zhao Zhuliu flinched when their arms brushed at his passing.
Heart lodged in the back of his throat, Zhao Zhuliu hurried away in search of solitude. Off-kilter, he ducked between two buildings and fixed his gaze on his feet, taking deep but unmeasured breaths to try and regain his composure.
His heart hammered in his chest, senses straining for the familiar sound of his uncle’s footsteps upon the wooden walkways around him. Illogical. Unnecessary. Habit.
He heard a sad sigh, nearly a whimper, at the other end of the narrow passage. He slipped along the wall and peered out where it opened up into a large courtyard. Jiang-guniang sat in a meditative pose, her brow drawn in what he thought might be pain.
He did not know much about children. He barely recalled the time before his tenth year, when the horror of his meridian disorder made itself known, and the past six years had been a constant cycle of waiting for pain and suffering it. That being said, he did think she might be too young to be left unsupervised.
Zhao Zhuliu crouched down to keep half an eye on her, keenly aware of the docks opening up to the water beyond. After the Jin had left, she’d told him she knew how to swim, but caution kept him rooted in place.
Jiang Yanli’s hands hovered over her lower dantian and she drew her arms up in an attempt to open her spiritual pathways. He felt the air shiver for a single moment before it fell apart and she doubled over with a pained cry.
Zhao Zhuliu moved to her side quicker than he even registered the first twitch of his feet.
“Jiang-guniang.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, tears clinging to her lashes. “Zhao-gongzi.” Her bottom lip quivered. “It’s not working. A-Die told me to keep trying my best,” Jiang Yanli continued, looking in the direction where Zhao Zhuliu had run across Jiang Fengmian. “But I keep failing.”
Zhao Zhuliu swallowed his nerves. “You are young to have developed your golden core,” he said.
Jiang Yanli nodded. “A-Niang said she had cultivated hers even younger. So I tried and tried and tried. But now I can’t…” She dropped her chin to her chest and squeaked out a hastily muffled sob. “It won’t do anything.”
Zhao Zhuliu looked at his hand. His useless, harmful hands. He controlled the fire inside him. He could touch without bringing harm. He reminded himself of it over and over again as he slipped his hands out of the gloves he wore at all times. They didn’t help, really. His spiritual power passed through them as easily as water through a fishing net. But they made him feel better.
“May I?” he asked.
Jiang Yanli, resigned in the way of someone who had suffered through similar examination many times before, thrust her wrist out towards him.
He pressed his fingers to her skin as gently as possible. Her skin felt cold. She shivered a bit as he tried to use his spiritual energy to trace her meridians…
And failed.
He frowned. They felt too small to accommodate any measure of power.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling away.
Jiang Yanli offered him a small smile, ignoring her own wet eyes in favour of patting his knee. “No, thank you, Zhao-gongzi. It was very kind of you to come and sit with me.”
He would help her, Zhao Zhuliu decided, if it killed him.
Zhao Zhuliu remained with Jiang Yanli the rest of the afternoon, perturbed on her behalf when no one came in search of her until dinner. When Yinzhu finally appeared, she frowned at the two of them.
“A-Li,” she said, “Where is your father?”
“A-Die had important business,” Jiang Yanli said. She put aside the book of animals she’d picked out for her and Zhao Zhuliu to read together her once she’d finished with her attempts at meditation. “But Zhu-gege stayed with me!”
The address pulled him up short. He had always wanted a younger sibling. Had two, of which he knew, though he had never been allowed to meet them in case he… hurt them. His mother, in her infrequent letters to his father after she’d escaped back to Meishan, had not even shared their names.
Yinzhu’s lips pursed angrily, but not at him, he did not think.
“Madam is holding dinner for you,” she said. She glanced at Zhao Zhuliu. “Zhao-gongzi may come.”
They followed her to the Lotus Pier dining hall.
He remained well past the end of the meal, until Jiang Yanli had said her goodnights, to approach Madam Yu. They were alone with her loyal maids in the main hall, Jiang Fengmian having ignored the summons for dinner. She seemed ready to take her own leave, and Zhao Zhuliu knew he had to speak now or lose his chance.
The Violet Spider looked at him with mild interest. “Yes?”
"Madam Yu." Zhao Zhuliu bowed deeply before her. "I wish to thank you for the consideration you have shown me. Allowing me to stay here and trespass upon your hospitality."
A suspicious crease appeared between Madam Yu’s eyebrows.
"I hope you will forgive me. I checked your daughter's meridians."
Zidian glowed brilliant purple and Zhao Zhuliu prepared himself for the sting of its touch.
"Why," Madam Yu demanded, flat.
"She is struggling," Zhao Zhuliu said. "I swear I did no harm to her."
Madam Yu rose from her seat, glaring. The anger in her eyes, he thought, might not be directed at him, but he bowed his head nonetheless. He had yet to swear himself in as a disciple and had taken an unforgivable liberty. But he had made a promise to himself to help Jiang Yanli, and honouring promises was the only thing he’d had for a long time which brought him any sense of honour.
“I know something of meridians,” he continued before she could say anything. Should she strike him, he would speak until too much blood filled his mouth to allow him to finish. “Mine have been examined many times.”
“And?” Madam Yu said, voice snapping as though Zidian had rooted its power in her words instead of upon her wrist.
“Jiang-guniang’s are too narrow for her spiritual energy to pass properly through,” he said. “If she continues trying to continue sword cultivation, they will be damaged further. Perhaps to the point of causing the rest of her body harm.”
Yu Ziyuan’s jaw set in displeasure.
“There are other methods of cultivation,” Yinzhu whispered at her side, ducking her had to hide the movement of her mouth.
“The young mistress has other talents,” Jinzhu agreed.
“Perhaps,” Yu Ziyuan said. Her gaze grew distant, though she shook off her distraction again nearly immediately. “Your insight is appreciated, Zhuliu.”
Shocked by such relief, possibly strong enough to keep his nightmares at bay, Zhao Zhuliu bowed before her and escaped back to his room.
His sleep did not come any easier that evening, but his dreams seemed kinder as they did not follow him into the morning.
Zhao Zhuliu quickly became Yu Zhuliu, and A-Niang’s closest confidant after Jinzhu and Yinzhu despite his youth. Jiang Fengmian considered him with the same bemused smile as he did all of Yu Ziyuan’s ‘eccentricities’ (a word that made her mother recoil, though she must not have told A-Die how she felt about it, given how often he used it.)
“Why has your young friend not taken the name ‘Jiang’, my lady?” A-Die asked only once, through a low chuckle. “He’s now sworn his service as a disciple to YunmengJiang, after all.”
“Tell me, Fengmian, what is his given name?”
A-Die did not answer, but nor did he press the point further.
One night, only two months after his arrival, Jiang Yanli stood next to him in the main hall when one of the outer disciples was dragged in front of them, accused of doing awful things to a few of the local civilians, none of which Jiang Yanli was permitted to hear. Jinzhu very carefully placed her hands over Jiang Yanli’s ears while it was discussed; her hands began shaking after only a few moments’ recitation.
“We will deal with him,” Yu Ziyuan said, Zidian sparking at her wrist. She looked at Zhu-gege with an expression Jiang Yanli had never seen on her face before; though it obviously meant something to Zhu-gege, as he nodded in understanding.
Jiang Yanli thought she heard screaming coming from the hall that night, long after she’d gone to bed, but it only lasted a moment. She rolled over and decided it had been nothing more than a nightmare.
The topic of Jiang Yanli’s marriage prospects came up again little over a year later.
Jiang Yanli sat with her parents one morning, working on an embroidery project. Zhu-gege quietly read behind her, devouring one of the books he’d borrowed from a visiting merchant in town. Zhu-gege liked little more than reading and had exhausted their library’s humble offerings.
Two letters arrived from Gusu shortly after breakfast. Her father skimmed one with obvious disinterest before passing it to her mother before almost frantically opening the second and proceeding to silently devour the contents.
“Acting Sect Leader Lan suggests that you might be a good match for Lan Huan, now called Xichen,” her mother said to Jiang Yanli after her own review of the first letter. She looked consideringly at Jiang Yanli, who glanced up from her embroidery. A small smile touched her mother’s mouth. “It would be a good match, assuming this child—” She touched the broad expanse of her pregnant stomach, “—is a boy and you will cede position as sect heir.” Jiang Yanli would soon be a jiejie; she couldn’t remember being happier in her entire life.
Before she replied, her father made a low, angry sound in his throat. “Chang-di is going to be a father,” he muttered. He sniffed and cast the letter aside as though it had personally offended instead of bringing such good news. “They should have been more careful,” he said, “No one will respect the child of a servant as a true cultivator. They’ll be seen as reaching above their station at best.”
“It seems to me the child will have a strong cultivator as a parent,” A-Niang stated, “Or am I mistaken in my belief that Cangse Sanren is halfway cultivated towards immortality?”
“Quite true, my lady, but you know as well as I that no one will ever give any thought to the mother,” A-Die said.
A-Niang paled. A-Die took advantage of her unexpected silence and removed himself to his study, his shoulders bunched up at his ears.
Yu Ziyuan stared after him, her lips pursed in outrage. She slammed the letter down onto the table and gestured for Yinzhu to come and help her stand. The heavy swell of her belly had made it harder for her to perform simple tasks, though she viciously set down anyone who suggested as much aloud.
“We will travel to Gusu and discuss this proposition with Acting Sect Leader Lan,” her mother said. “Make arrangements.”
“Is it safe for you to travel?” “Do you think that is wise?” Jinzhu and Yinzhu asked together.
Regardless of the wisdom, A-Niang’s jaw squared with her obvious irritation and she snapped out through her teeth, “I said make arrangements. Prepare yourself, A-Li. We’ll leave in the morning.”
Jiang Yanli waited until her mother was gone before looking at Zhu-gege for reassurance.
“Lan cultivators are righteous,” he told her evenly, easily reading her fear. “He will treat you with honour.”
Jiang Yanli worried at her cuticles. “What if he doesn’t?” They’d told her the same about Jin Zixuan, after all, and though her memories of him had dimmed with the long months since she’d last seen him, she hadn’t forgotten the sound of him screaming at her, and still had nightmares about drowning.
“Then your mother and I will address it,” he promised. He offered her a peeled lotus seed and her smile slowly returned.
At least, Jiang Yanli thought that night, she was a stronger swimmer.
They rode in a palanquin to the top of the stairs leading to the Cloud Recesses. Jiang Yanli occasionally peeked out from behind the gauzy curtains covering the windows, to look at the mountains or where Zhu-gege rode astride a horse beside them. Inside, Jinzhu and Yinzhu kept her and her mother company. Her mother napped often, these days, but obviously struggled to find a comfortable position. Halfway up the mountain from Caiyi, she finally stretched out into Jinzhu’s lap and curled her knee up to brace her stomach.
Pregnancy, it seemed to Jiang Yanli, was an terribly uncomfortable state of being.
It seemed as though she felt it the moment they passed into Gusu; the very air around them seemed to grow colder. Early spring in Yunmeng was warm and bright, but in Gusu it felt as though spring was little more than the tail end of winter.
The closer they came to the top of the mountain, the more Jiang Yanli’s stomach began churning anxiously, and her back began to ache as her muscles tightened and squeezed up. She wished she had lotus seeds to peel; or anything, really, to occupy her shaking hands.
Jiang Yanli had, once again, been gifted new robes. This time they were light, and not in the Yu style. Perhaps her mother was nervous, too.
Once they reached the top of the mountain, Zhu-gege offered his hand for A-Niang, but shied away from the cutting glares of Yinzhu and Jinzhu, neither of whom wanted or needed the assistance. He swung Jiang Yanli down with a small twirl, and she laughed for the first time since leaving LOtus Pier. Quietly, though, to avoid drawing attention to herself. She didn’t want her mother to chide her for her behaviour.
Two disciples flanked the gates and bowed in greeting.
“Acting Sect Leader Lan is waiting for you inside,” one of them said. “Please follow me.”
Jiang Yanli wanted to walk next to Zhu-gege at the back of their procession, but a quelling look from her mother hastened her steps until she walked by her side. A short distance inside, standing on a white-rock path lined with pine trees, a stern-faced man awaited them, standing next to a boy just a bit older than Jiang Yanli.
The boy had gentle eyes and a kind smile. Jiang Yanli felt some of her fear bleed away.
They all bowed, but the man was the first to speak. “Madam Yu,” he greeted, “Jiang-guniang. On behalf of GusuLan, I welcome you to Cloud Recesses.”
“Thank you, Grandmaster Lan,” Madam Yu said.
“You will have to excuse my sister for her absence, she will join us shortly.”
He gestured for them to follow him. A-Niang fell into step with him, but Jiang Yanli hung back, still studying the boy even as Jinzhu and Yingzhu passed them by. Lan Huan was a bit taller than her already, and waited for her to move forward. She cast a look over her shoulder at Zhu-gege, who nodded encouragingly. He wouldn’t allow her to come to harm, she knew. Zhu-gege would always protect her.
“Hello,” she finally whispered.
Lan Huan’s smile widened. “Hello!” The man—Lan Qiren, she remembered from her genealogy studies—coughed pointedly up ahead of them and Lan Huan pressed his lips together before he bowed very deeply to her. “Jiang-guniang,” Lan Huan said at a quieter volume. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
“You are?” Jiang Yanli asked, immediately ashamed at how surprised she sounded.
Lan Huan nodded enthusiastically. They turned as one to follow A-Niang and Lan Qiren. The pine trees opened out from the path to show off elegant buildings nestled into the mountains. The air still tasted like winter, probably because the snow lingered on the mountaintops.
“It’s very pretty here,” Jiang Yanli said, remembering everything her mother had told her about making a good impression. Jiang Yanli would have no say whether or not they’d be betrothed, but she wanted Lan Huan to at least like her enough not to lash out at her.
“Thank you!” Lan Huan said. He gestured to the buildings. “That’s our library, and that’s the receiving hall. Our classrooms. We have three of them. I’m only allowed in the smallest one right now, but when I turn twelve I’ll be allowed into the main class with the other disciples and then when I’m fifteen I’ll be able to go on nighthunts…”
Jiang Yanli’s fear eased with every word; Lan Huan obviously loved his home the same way she loved Lotus Pier.
“In the Lan sect, we get our swords at age twelve,” Lan Huan continued, “When do you get yours?”
“I cannot use a sword,” she admitted, flushing with shame, bracing herself for the inevitable disgust and dismissal.
A-Niang had called upon many healers to tend to her and see if her meridians could somehow be widened. Even the vaunted doctors of Dafan Mountain had shaken their heads in despair upon examining her. The whole time her mother had frowned, while her father merely shrugged and claimed that such went the way of life. Her parents had announced the imminent arrival of her new brother or sister not long after.
“Well that’s all right,” Lan Huan assured her. She blinked at him in surprise. “Lots of Lan disciples use musical cultivation. My Shufu tells me that musical cultivation uses different spiritual pathways.” He grabbed her hand and her mouth dropped open in shock. His fingers were chilly. “Come. I’ll show you my guqin! You’ll be able to learn with me.”
Jiang Yanli felt her lips twitch into something resembling a smile which slowly grew as Lan Huan’s hand warmed in hers. Lan Huan must have noticed something wrong about it, because he paused in step. Behind them, Zhu-gege watched them with keen eyes.
“Is it hard?” she asked at his questioning look.
“I don’t think so, but I like music a lot. Do you like music, Jiang-guniang?” He barely waited for her to nod before continuing, “Great! Then you’ll definitely enjoy it.”
Jiang Yanli cast a quick glance over her shoulder towards her mother and Lan Qiren, but neither of them appeared inclined to stop them. Zhu-gege trailed behind, close enough to keep an eye on them.
Lan Huan led her to a beautiful house off the main paths, decorated and grand enough for a sect leader and their family. Zhu-gege lingered in the garden, a torn up patch of earth waiting to be sown, a few stray blue petals ground into the soil. Inside, in a small sitting room separated from the rest of the house by a delicately-painted screen, sat two guqins side by side. One significantly larger than the other.
“That’s Wangji,” Lan Huan said, waving to the larger one even as he seated himself at the smaller one. “My grandfather’s. My father said he’d kept it for me, but I like the xiao better and so Shufu says he’ll commission one for me when I’m older.” His lips pressed together. “My father died.”
“I’m sorry,” Jiang Yanli said, sitting down across from him.
“I didn’t see him very much,” Lan Huan said. He aimlessly plucked a few notes of music. “And it used to be I could only see my mother once a month. And my Shufu was gone for a long time. But when he came back with his cultivation partner and their husband, they said things needed to change, and now I live with my mother here and I see her all the time.” His face lit up and his chest puffed out proudly. “And A-Niang gave me a new didi just after the new year.”
“I’m going to be a jiejie soon, too!” Jiang Yanli said.
“Shufu, Auntie Xiao, and Uncle Wei are going to be having a baby soon,” Lan Xichen told her, eyes alight with excitement. “We’ll have to make sure all of us are good friends.”
Jiang Yanli thought her heart would burst with the sudden swell of joy in it. At best, she’d told herself that Lan Huan would be polite when he discovered she couldn’t cultivate with the sword. At worst, she still had nightmares about drowning. Having him as a real and true friend felt like wealth beyond her wildest dreams.
“I don’t know much musical cultivation yet,” he admitted. Then he smiled mischievously. “But do you want to see what I learned all on my own?”
Jiang Yanli nodded encouragingly. He played a short composition that reminded her of springtime, only a few notes which nonetheless brought with them the smell of rain and new growth. And then a small glowing bird appeared in the air between them. She laughed in delight, even though it disappeared again almost immediately.
“How did you do that?” she asked.
“It’s the music,” he said. He did it again. This time, a line of sweat formed on his brow and he wiped it away with his sleeve. The bird only lasted a single heartbeat before disappearing. “It’s hard, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry! I think it’s amazing.”
“It is very impressive,” a new voice said.
Jiang Yanli jumped to her feet in surprise, cheeks flushed. The woman standing at the break between the screen and the wall looked upon both of them with kind, warm eyes.
“A-Niang, I was showing A-Li my trick,” Lan Huan said. He stood, bowed to his mother, and then flung himself at her to hug her around the middle.
“She obviously liked it very much,” Lan Huan’s mother said. “You must forgive me for not meeting you at the gates just now, Jiang-guniang. I prefer to be the one to put A-Zhan down for his nap and he was fussier than expected today.”
“It’s not a problem,” Jiang Yanli rushed to say.
“You are very kind, but I know it was discourteous, given this is your first visit to Gusu.” Madam Lan peered at the guqins. “Are you interested in music?”
“A-Li said she can’t use a sword,” Lan Huan said. The words came far too easily to him. She ducked her head in shame. Surely Madam Lan would not consider her a proper match now.
“Oh?”
Jiang Yanli pressed her lips together and nodded. “Lan-gongzi suggested I might be able to use music to cultivate,” she whispered.
Madam Lan remained quiet for a long time. Jiang Yanli finally dared to look up at her. Her smile remained in place, and only grew when Jiang Yanli met her gaze. “In that case, there is no better place to learn it than Cloud Recesses. And, since you may one day be a member of our family, I can think of no worthier student.”
“Family?” Lan Huan repeated.
“Yes. Jiang-guniang’s mother and I thought you two might suit one another in the future. And, should such a match come to pass, she will be our family.”
Lan Huan drew in a surprised breath. Jiang Yanli braced herself for the same icy anger she’d faced from Jin Zixuan.
“How wonderful!” Lan Huan gasped instead. Jiang Yanli’s mouth dropped open when Lan Huan spun back to her. “I am so happy! You’re so nice!” He took a step towards her, but stopped when his mother coughed gently. His smile became smaller, but no less sincere. “Then we can play music together all the time.”
Tremulous, terrible hope began to well in Jiang Yanli’s heart; a thrush with injured wings that might yet still fly.
Madam Lan waved. “Come. A-Huan, we should find your Shufu and Lady Jiang’s mother. I’ve kept them waiting long enough.”
Zhu-gege lingered outside, too polite to enter the house unbidden. He bowed quite low to Madam Lan when she stepped out the door.
“I’m glad Jiang-guniang has a stalwart companion,” Madam Lan said. “All of you come along. I’m sure Didi and Madam Yu are beside themselves with worry by now.”
As it turned out, when they reached the receiving hall, A-Niang and Lan Qiren were sat across from one another, both looking pleased with themselves in a way Jiang Yanli found intimidating.
“You are both still young,” Lan Qiren said.
“And YunmengJiang has learned an important lesson from past such endeavours,” A-Niang agreed. “Therefore, we have decided that A-Li will visit twice a year, in spring and autumn, in order to ensure that this is a feasible plan. Should anything change, then we will reconsider with no loss of face.”
A-Li smiled sidelong at Lan Huan. Her mother would have called his broad grin ‘unseemly’ if she hadn’t been so obviously pleased.
In her heart, the little thrush took flight.