It always felt a bit awkward, visiting larger cities. Fang Xiu had grown up in a remote village where there were no buildings taller than a single story, the only point of interest was an unusually large tree, and trading for goods outside the village meant sending a group of able-bodied young men and hoping at least one of them made it back within the year. She had fully expected to live and die without ever leaving her village, and the idea of making social calls to a large city was completely alien to her.
Yet, there she stood, in one of the largest cities on the continent—maybe even in the world—conscious of the fact that she was gawking like a tourist despite having been here plenty of times. She just couldn’t help it—every time she stepped through the teleportation platform it was like being transported to an entirely different world.
“Hello there, miss! Is this your first time in the city? Do you need help?”
Xiu resisted the urge to flinch away from the young man who addressed her. Even decades later, the red and gold robes of the Awakening Dragon sect still reminded her of the horrifying presence of Yan De. She hadn’t even realized who he was until Zheng Long told her, and it had still given her nightmares. Xiu gave the young cultivator a winsome smile.
“That’s very kind of you, but I’m fine. I’ve been here before. Though, could I trouble you for directions to the Blooming Lotus Teahouse?”
“I’d be happy to escort you there myself, ma’am.”
“That won’t be necessary, dear. The directions will do.”
The boy—and she could see him no other way at that point—hesitated.
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble at all, and you’re very...”
He paused, and she watched with urbane amusement as his mind struggled to find a polite way to express what he was trying to say. After a moment, she took pity on him.
“Pregnant, yes. I had noticed, I assure you. Don’t worry about me, I’m a body cultivator myself, albeit only in the first stage.”
Much to her husband’s chagrin. He would have preferred she take up spiritual or at least unified cultivation, but she found that the relative simplicity of body cultivation to be more her speed. Not that martial arts were easier than other disciplines—far from it—just...simpler.
The boy bowed politely.
“Oh, I see. Well, still—I would consider it a personal courtesy if you’d allow me to escort you to the teahouse anyway. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“You’re not very subtle, you know.”
He coughed awkwardly and affected a puzzled expression.
“Ma’am?”
“You’re what—a first stage spiritual cultivator? The robes are genuine, so you are affiliated with the sect. The person I’m here to meet wouldn’t waste their time sending security and certainly wouldn’t try to hide it. So that leaves...Zheng Long. My husband put you up to this, did he?”
The boy finally had the good graces to look properly embarrassed, scratching the back of his head and not quite managing to meet her eyes as he responded.
“This lowly junior would not dare to speculate on the motives of Lord Grandmaster.”
“In other words, he gave the order and the sect did what it always does and simply delegated the task all the way down to the very greenest junior disciple they could find—probably in an active attempt to slight me, under the hilariously mistaken assumption that I give a shit.”
Things had gotten better under her husband’s leadership, but progress was slow and the sect elders were surprisingly hardy weeds that proved nearly impossible to uproot.
“Ma’am, I—”
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble. I’ll give that idiot Long an earful when I get home, though. Lead on, Sir...?”
“Lai Zhihao, Ma’am.”
The boy offered her his arm, which she accepted as he began to guide her through the city. She doubted the elders were stupid enough to plan anything more sinister than having a rookie guide her, but even if they did, Xiu was absolutely certain that she had nothing to fear in Panlong City.
“I’m Fang Xiu, though you already knew that. You may continue to address me as you already have been. How old are you?”
“Sixteen this winter, Miss.”
“Practically a child. Other than this ignoble busywork they’ve foisted on you, has the sect been treating you well?”
He nodded eagerly.
“Absolutely, Miss! I’m very grateful for the rare opportunity they’ve given me.”
“Mm, not so rare these days though, is it?”
The boy didn’t quite miss a step, but her comment did bring back some of his discomfort.
“Erm, I suppose not, no. Still, it’s an honor to be admitted into the sect! The great sects still hold some prestige even if...”
Even if the Heavenly Empire of Qin had unofficially dissolved. The God-Emperor’s rather public ascension and Qin Yongliang’s abdication had left the status of the empire in a bit of a limbo. There was still an Emperor—probably—but nobody really knew who he was or really cared. The imperial clan’s authority had always been reliant on the God-Emperor as a central pillar, and without him...
Well, surprisingly little had changed, really. The sects had been largely self-governing for centuries anyway.
“Between us, even with my husband running things, I think you’d do much better off at Jiaguo’s academy.”
The boy gave her a pained grimace.
“Even...if that were true, I was born and raised here, Miss. We ought to have some pride for our home, don’t you think? Besides, uh, I wouldn’t want to leave my parents behind.”
He’d said the last part as an afterthought, but it felt like the most real thing he’d said since they met.
“I can understand that. You know, you’re about the same age as my oldest.”
“Young Master Zheng An?”
Xiu stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at the boy with a furious glare that awakened in him the primal fear of any young boy who’d ever gotten a sound spanking from their mother.
“Don’t you ever call him that again. My husband may have ‘returned’ to the sect, but my children and I have no part in it. He is not your or anybody’s ‘young master.’ He is a child, and I refuse to let him get swept up in whatever idiotic schemes that fat fuck up on the mountain thinks he’s getting up to, am I understood?”
He gulped audibly and nodded.
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
She smiled brightly and patted his cheek.
“Good boy!”
They walked on in silence for another block or two before Zhihao found his voice again.
“When you said—that is, were you referring to—?”
He visibly stopped himself from finishing that thought, shaking his head and muttering under his breath that he didn’t want to know. Not that he needed to fear Yan Hao’s impotent wrath. Xiu already intended to take steps to ensure the poor boy wouldn’t end up tangled in anything stupid from this misadventure.
“Yes, I was. But it’s probably better you didn’t actually ask. Is this the place?”
The teahouse was a rather upscale establishment, divided into four stories. The ground floor accepted foot traffic, but the place was popular enough that there was usually a bit of a wait. The second and third floors were reserved for members of the sect or clients that booked their tables in advance, and the top floor was only for private functions and VIPs.
“It is, Miss. I will wait here for you to finish your business.”
He wasn’t even trying to maintain the pretense of being a friendly passerby anymore, but that was fine.
“Nonsense, come in and join us. My friend won’t mind. In fact, I think she’ll find it as hilarious as I do.”
“Um, find what hilarious, Miss?”
“Oh, you’ll see. Come on—I insist.”
Xiu practically dragged the poor kid into the teahouse with her, where a well-dressed older man in obscenely overpriced silk robes greeted her with a polite bow.
“Does the young couple have a reservation?”
Lai Zhihao nearly choked, and Xiu just pulled his arm closer, giggling.
“I believe I’m expected. Fang Xiu? The young man is my guest, but we aren’t together—I’m old enough to be his mother.”
The man bowed smoothly as he produced a jade slip from the sleeve of his robe.
“Of course, Miss. I meant no offense. Please forgive the misunderstanding. Let me see here, Fang Xiu...ah, here you are, table—”
He blinked and did a double-take, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.
“Oh, um, I must profusely repeat my previous apology. I hadn’t realized that the top floor had been booked today. I’ll escort you up right away. Is there anything the Blooming Lotus can do to make up for this unforgivable error?”
“It’s quite alright sir, no harm done.”
“You are very gracious, Miss. Right this way.”
The man led them up a flight of stairs that bypassed the other two floors and brought them directly to the top of the establishment. The entire floor was empty, aside from some very professional—albeit nervous—waiting staff, and a single large table covered in a rich assortment of tasty delicacies and the finest teas that could be found anywhere.
Xiu knew that they had to be the finest, because the woman sitting at the table wouldn’t accept anything less. To Lai Zhihao and the teahouse staff, the woman probably looked utterly nondescript. If asked, they would say she was ‘beautiful’ and ‘stunning’ and other such platitudes, but find themselves completely incapable of giving any real details.
What she saw was a woman the same age as her husband, with long black hair tied into a pair of well decorated buns and deep green eyes that shone like emeralds. She wore a fine dress of red and gold—which was the local fashion—and tasteful makeup and jewelry which served to accentuate her already fine features. And yes, Xiu had to admit, she was ‘beautiful’ and ‘stunning’ and all those other platitudes.
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If she’d once been jealous of her husband’s lingering affection for Yan Yue, it had to be said that after meeting the woman herself, Xiu could at least grant that he had incredible taste.
Yue rose from the table and beamed happily at her, crossing the distance with open arms.
“Xiu! It’s so good to see you again! How have you been?”
They hugged and greeted each other before sitting down at the table. Xiu belatedly remembered her guest, loitering awkwardly by the staircase and beckoned him over.
“Don’t just stand there! Come say hello! Yue, this young man from the sect was kind enough to escort me here from the teleportation platform.”
He came over and bowed politely, but didn’t take a seat.
“Hello Miss, um...”
The boy furrowed his brow, but the name didn’t come to him. It wouldn’t stick unless she wanted it to.
“Miss. It’s good to meet you. My name is Lai Zhihao.”
Yue gave Xiu a knowing glance and pursed her lips.
“Is it, now? Well met, Sir Lai. Please, join us. It’s good to see my old master still has a sense of humor, though I wonder how he knew I was here.”
Xiu sighed and shook her head.
“My idiot husband ordered them to ensure my safety. I imagine they made an informed guess about who I’d be meeting here and assigned a suitably amusing junior to the task.”
“Oh, yes. Hilarious.”
Yue spoke in a perfect deadpan, but then turned back to the poor confused boy with the unlucky name and smiled, gesturing for him to sit.
“Please, have a seat and help yourself. I’m afraid I’ve got a bit of a gluttonous streak lately, and for once I don’t think my wife is to blame—at least not directly.”
Lai Zhihao did a double-take as he sat down.
“Your, uh, wife?”
“Yes, dear. I’m married to another woman. I’m sure it’s a very startling revelation for you, but I assure you it’s perfectly normal.”
Xiu snorted.
“I don’t know if ‘another’ is the word I’d use.”
“Oh don’t you start! Those jokes got old back when it was just the first two—long before I ever got involved.”
Unable to find a response to any of that, the young man wisely decided to occupy himself with some tea and snacks while Xiu and Yue caught up.
It had been a strange turn of events that led to Xiu becoming friends with her husband’s ex-girlfriend. Yan Yue had been looking for a way to quietly step down as the leader of the Great Awakening Dragon sect without simply handing it over to the greedy elders. Though she was the head of the clan, it remained patrilineal, and since she had no other siblings, her abdication would mean that it passed to one of her ‘uncles.’
That was all over Xiu’s head, but the short version was that Zheng Long hadn’t been home when Yue arrived, and Xiu had spent most of the day entertaining Yue over tea and snacks. They got to talking and eventually it came up that she was indeed that Yan Yue—the very one that Zheng Long had been pining over for years.
Not that he’d continued to do so after marrying Xiu, of course, and he’d been quite honest about his prior relationships. Still, it was hard to quell that lingering jealousy—especially since Yue was so gorgeous. Regardless, they’d become good friends after that and often found opportunities to visit.
It wasn’t until later that Xiu learned Yue was not only married to, but also part of the goddess Yoshika. The Goddess. The very same one that had given Zheng An his guardian spirit. Well, she’d already unpacked that over a few days of screaming into a pillow while her husband patted her on the back and reassured her that ‘Yoshika had that effect on people.’
After a customary exchange of pleasantries, Xiu found that the three of them had managed to eat through what really should have been enough food to serve twice their number. Her own appetite was normal—nobody had warned her that body cultivation was such hungry work, especially when she was doing it for two—but she’d rarely seen Yue do more than nibble at a few unsalted biscuits and sip tea.
“My, you weren’t kidding about the appetite, were you?”
Yue smiled ruefully and shook her head.
“No, I wasn’t. Sir Kong, the next course please!”
The servants quickly swept away the empty dishes, replacing them with yet more refreshments, this time trending towards the rich and sweet—cakes, candies, and even a few more rare frozen delicacies that Xiu had never even imagined before meeting Yan Yue. Sometimes it paid to have rich friends.
“You said it wasn’t your wife’s fault? I’ve only heard tales of Lee Jia’s gluttony, but if it’s not her, then what?”
“The same as you, of course.”
Yue patted her own stomach, smiling with an uncharacteristic warmth. Yue could be sweet and kind, but she wielded her smiles like a weapon—always cold and sharp-edged, even when they were meant to be reassuring. That sort of genuine warmth, she reserved for when she spoke about her wife, or...
“Oh! Oh! By the Goddess—pardon the expression—why didn’t you lead with that?! Congratulations! How far along are you?”
“Not long. Only a few weeks, but the greedy little zygote is incredibly demanding for something so small. I suspect the nature of his parentage is to blame.”
“His? You can already tell? What am I saying, of course you can. Long is always spoiling it for me. Is he your first?”
Yue cocked her head and smirked.
“Child? Hardly. Pregnancy? Yes. It turns out that impregnating a goddess is no easy task—though I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the endeavor.”
Lai Zhihao actually spit out his tea at that, though it evaporated in midair before anything could spoil the precious sweets before them. He coughed and sputtered while Yue regarded him with undisguised amusement, before finally choking out an apology.
“S-sorry, khm, that caught me off guard. I apologize for my rudeness.”
Yue waved him off with a soft chuckle.
“Not at all, dear. And you can go ahead and ask—I know you want to.”
“I wouldn’t dare to—”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’ve already asked it in your heart. Putting it into words won’t harm anything. I assure you, I don’t bite.”
The boy blushed and looked away, but after only a moment’s hesitation, his curiosity got the better of him.
“Didn’t you say you’re married to, erm, a woman? If that’s the case, then how did you, uh, well, you know...”
Xiu’s eyes widened. That was the part he was surprised by? Actually, come to think of it, she supposed the ‘Goddess’ bit had probably rolled off of him like Yue’s name and appearance. Yoshika and her aspects generally tried to avoid drawing attention.
Yue propped her elbows up on the table and leaned forward, balancing her chin on her hands. She was taking more relish than was probably fair in teasing the poor kid.
“How did two women conceive a child? Quite the conundrum, yes. How do you suppose we managed it?”
“I apologize, Miss. I genuinely have no idea.”
For a goddess as powerful as Yoshika, Xiu had no doubt they had their ways, but Yue just chuckled and shook her head.
“You’re far too earnest for that name. I should thank those petty little elders—this is a much more pleasant memory to associate with it than my brother was.”
She smiled at her private joke, then sat back and took a quiet sip of her tea.
“It’s a quite simple and obvious solution, really. We used a surrogate.”
Xiu blinked. That was unexpected. Somehow a mystical solution had felt more appropriate for such a powerful being than the more mundane one.
“Who, if I may ask?”
Yue turned to her and smiled apologetically.
“I’m afraid you may not. The father wishes to remain anonymous for now, and while I’ve made it clear that he is always welcome to play a role in his son’s life, I cannot make the decision for him.”
Lai Zhihao looked at her with something approaching wonder in his eyes.
“I’m surprised you found a man willing to give up an heir like that.”
“Oh? I wouldn’t have even considered anyone who wasn’t a good enough man to treat his children like people rather than property. Indeed, the father of my child is quite good.”
The boy blushed at the double-entendre, but Xiu ignored it entirely. She knew better than to play Yue’s game by now.
“Your other children are all daughters, right? This is your first son?”
“Indeed. Poor Heian is going to be devastated. To be fair, he’s also my first human child.”
To his credit, Lai Zhihao managed to restrain himself from further embarrassment and let that comment go. Xiu gave Yue a look—just a subtle quirk of her eyebrows and the barest tilt of her head towards the poor boy. Stop teasing the poor kid!
It wasn’t anything as sophisticated as actual telepathy, so much as taking advantage of Yoshika’s empathy to communicate non-verbally.
Yue sighed.
“Oh, alright. Sir Lai, could I trouble you to run an errand for me?”
He sat up and blinked.
“Miss? I’m not supposed to leave Lady—”
Xiu shot him a glare that stopped him cold, and he smartly backtracked.
“I mean, Miss Fang unattended. If word reached the elders that I’d shirked my duties...”
Yue waved off his concerns, already producing some kind of odd golden trinket from her sleeves.
“It won’t. Those old fools might enjoy playing their little games, but they know better than to actually offend me. They’d sooner scatter their own foundations, abandon their titles, and renounce the God-Emperor than face my genuine wrath.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that the boy couldn’t help but accept it as truth. There was probably also some sort of mystical intent she was conveying directly into his soul or something, but that was well beyond Xiu’s comprehension. He swallowed nervously and nodded.
“Very well, Miss. What can I do for you?”
“Good boy. Here, take this to an antique shop that sells cultivation relics and ask the proprietor what he’d be willing to trade for it.”
She slid the golden trinket across the table, and Xiu leaned in to get a closer look. It was an ornate token, carved with motifs of strange humanoid figures. At a glance, it seemed like the carvings were amateur, the proportions not quite correct, with bodies that were too thin and limbs too long, or the opposite—short, stumpy figures that were too robust to be children. But there was something about them that felt strangely profound—like they were meant to be that way. The token was round and slightly too big to fit neatly in the palm of the boy’s hand, with the carvings on either side.
He accepted it with some trepidation, casting a curious look at Yue.
“Er, what is it? Which shop?”
“It’s a cultivation relic, obviously. Any shop will do, but try...”
She looked up at the ceiling and put a finger to her lips.
“Hmm, the east side of town? No, northeast. Accept the first offer you’re given and make the trade on the spot.”
“Uh...okay? What should I do with your purchase?”
“Hm? Oh, whatever you want. Keep it, sell it, throw it away for all I care. Don’t donate it to the sect, that will annoy me.”
“Why?”
Yue huffed irritably, her first sign of actual displeasure since they’d arrived.
“Must I spell it out for you? I’m dismissing you. You’re dismissed. Go away! Shoo!”
She flicked her hands at him and he took the hint, politely bowing farewell before rushing out to comply with Yue’s orders. Xiu leaned on her elbow and pouted.
“Isn’t that a waste of a prophecy? You could have just asked him to leave.”
“It’s not like I’ve got a limited number of them, and I felt bad for him. You were right to rein me in, I’m just a bit...perturbed.”
“Not by the elders’ petty little games, surely?”
“Pfft, no! Of course not. I didn’t mind the extra company, either. I just wanted to speak to you in private for a moment.”
Xiu shrugged. Yoshika’s eccentricities were just a fact of life for those brave or insane enough to keep her company. She wondered which she was—that would be a fun question to ask Long later.
“What was that thing anyway? And what’s Lai going to get in exchange?”
“Oh, I have no idea. I didn’t look that far ahead. It should be auspicious, though. The token is just something Lianhua whipped up for practice. It’s imbued with a bit of her essence, so it has the same balancing properties as her aura while the essence lasts.”
Lianhua was the name of Yoshika’s...Xiu had to stop and count in her head—fourth daughter? The awakened spirit of a lotus flower. Like her own son’s guardian spirit, Xiangmu—object spirits were notoriously terrible at naming themselves—the lotus spirit had been very slow to develop. Unlike her sisters, all of whom were fully grown adults, Lianhua still presented as a child no older than six, even fifteen years after her awakening.
“Wait, so those figures were carved wrong?”
“Mhm, she’s still having trouble grasping the concept of bones, and her sisters haven’t exactly been helping—especially Iseul.”
“I see. You are absolutely terrible, sending that boy on some fool’s errand to exchange your daughter’s practice rejects for who-knows-what. What was so important that you had to get rid of him like that?”
Yue leaned forward across the table and took Xiu’s hands in hers, leveling her with a solemn stare.
“I need your help. There aren’t many I can ask about this, and fewer still that I trust.”
There was an unaccountable anxiety behind her eyes that drew Xiu in. She squeezed her friend’s hand and nodded.
“I don’t know what you could possibly need me of all people for, but I will do my best. What do you need?”
“Xiu—how the hell do you raise a son? My daughters are all spirits! Most of Yoshika’s parents are dead, horrible, or maniacs—well, Eui’s parents are fine I suppose, but you, of everyone I know, are the most normal mother with the most normal children. I have no idea what to do!”
Xiu blinked. Then snorted. Then finally erupted into full-on belly laughter.
“Oh dear, is that all?”
She chuckled and shook her head ruefully.
“Yue, you’d better order us some more food, because we’re going to be here for a while.”
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