Chương 23: Lìchūn: Tempering 2

They head toward the outer market by the western path, Xie Lianqiu still looped through Liu Yinhua's arm as if letting go would be an admission of defeat. The late afternoon has turned cooler, and the training yards fall behind them in dust, low voices, and the dull ring of practice weapons striking wood.

Liu Yinhua keeps waiting for Xie Lianqiu to grow tired of matching her stride, but the other girl seems perfectly content to shorten her steps and steer them down the path with the confidence of someone who has already decided where they are going. The outer market sits between the lower workshops and the storehouse road, crowded into a broad stone court beneath red-glass lanterns that have not yet been lit.

It is not grand in the way Suzhou markets are grand, with lacquered balconies and painted shop signs and servants carrying purchases behind women pretending not to notice who watches them. It is still a market built to serve cultivators, many of them young nobles with allowances large enough to make merchants patient. The stalls are well stocked, some little more than awnings and folded tables, others proper shopfronts tucked under tiled eaves. Robes hang in ranks of colour and weight.

There are training wraps, practice weapons, jars of liniment, talisman paper in sealed boxes, cheap hair ties, carved combs, spirit-beast leather scraps, second-hand books, polished hairpins, embroidered sachets, lacquered bow cases, treated shoes, and one stall selling skewers that smell strongly enough of chilli to make Liu Yinhua glance toward it twice.

"Do not look too interested," Xie Lianqiu says, following her gaze.

"Shen Yuanzhou says those are good."

"Is that a warning?"

"Yes." Liu Yinhua looks away from the skewers.

"Thank you for the warning, then."

"You should be. Last time, Chi Yanluo drank half a jug of water and refused to give an opinion."

"That does sound like him."

"It was the closest he has come to criticising food in public. We were all very proud." Xie Lianqiu shifts her grip and tilts her head toward a row of cloth shops where robes hang in silver, coral, deep red, pale gold, dark blue, and green so soft it is almost grey.

"Suzhou must have better markets than this."

"For clothing? Yes, but I doubt it would be cultivator approved."

"Now you sound certain."

"I am certain." Liu Yinhua lets herself look properly as they pass under the first awning. The cloth here is finer than she expected, even the practical bolts stacked by weight and treatment rather than colour.

"Suzhou merchants would start crying if forced to sell from a table, but the stock here is not poor."

"That sounds like praise."

"Good stock makes poor decisions easier." Xie Lianqiu laughs.

"You say that as if you are not already surrounded by temptation."

"In spring, the better houses were wearing green gauze over pale underlayers," Liu Yinhua says, mostly to move them past a robe of silver-white cloth that catches the light.

"Not bright green. Willow, celadon, new leaf. Hair ornaments were smaller too, with more pearls, fewer dangling gold pieces, because everyone had apparently decided dangling gold looked provincial."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone who wished to be seen deciding such things."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is." Liu Yinhua's mouth curves a little.

"But it is also useful. You can tell who is trying too hard, who is behind by three months, who has spent more than they can afford, who has a patron with old taste, and who has enough power to ignore fashion entirely." Xie Lianqiu looks delighted.

"You must tell me more."

"I thought you were buying me a robe, not gossip," she says, an almost teasing rebuke in it.

"A robe is quick," she says, flapping a hand.

"Gossip should be savoured." Liu Yinhua glances at her and finds Xie Lianqiu watching her with bright interest, chin tipped slightly, the market noise moving around them. The interest is genuine enough to be disarming. Liu Yinhua has spent years watching women make conversation from nothing, coaxing men into revealing their incomes, wives into revealing rivalries, merchants into revealing supply delays, and minor officials into revealing which rumours mattered.

It is strange to be asked because someone actually wants to know what she knows.

"Hair ribbons were coming back," Liu Yinhua says after a moment.

"Silk, narrow, worn low or braided into the back. The red lacquer combs from the river workshops were popular too, but only if the lacquer was dark enough. Bright red looked cheap unless the workmanship was exceptional." Xie Lianqiu touches the gold ribbon in her own hair.

"And this?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"Whether you want honesty."

"Cruelty, if it is well informed." Liu Yinhua studies the ribbon with grave attention.

"The colour is good. The fabric is good. It sits too high for Suzhou fashion, but more as if you saw the fashion and chose to inconvenience others by spinning it. Quite on purpose." Xie Lianqiu beams.

"Wonderful. I have always wanted to inconvenience fashion."

"You seem suited to it."

"I will treasure that." They stop before a robe shop with a proper wooden sign and two lanterns shaped from red glass. The older disciple behind the counter looks perhaps seventeen or eighteen, old enough to have the bored expression of someone who has spent several years selling things to younger disciples, but not strong enough for Liu Yinhua to feel any real pressure from him. First realm, she thinks, though she cannot tell more than that.

He has a square jaw, a scar across one eyebrow, and a measuring tape draped around his neck. When he sees Xie Lianqiu, then Liu Yinhua, then their linked arms, he sits up with more attention than before.

"Young misses," he says, bow politely and they bow together in response, Liu Yinhua lower than Xie Lianqiu.

"May I interest you in my robes?" he asks as he rises from his bow.

"One for her," Xie Lianqiu says, her tone more polite and all the more even for it.

"A decent one, with reinforcement with the hem and sleeves." Liu Yinhua gives her a look.

"I said nothing fancy," Xie Lianqiu says, a little reproachful.

"You did not."

"I implied restraint." The older disciple begins pulling down options with the air of someone who has decided that this will be better entertainment than sitting alone. Silver-grey with dark thread through the sleeves. Coral with gold edging, far too bright. Deep red with black cuffs. Pale gold over cream, beautiful enough that Liu Yinhua refuses to look at it for long because she is very sure she would be bankrupted by it. Muted blue-green with reinforced sleeves and a heavier fall.

Pale teal, soft but not fragile, with dark stitching at the hem and cuffs and a neat inner tie that would keep the robe from shifting during movement. The shopkeeper holds up the teal robe and gives Liu Yinhua a quick glance.

"This one would suit." Liu Yinhua distrusts him at once, as one should any eager salesman. Xie Lianqiu leans closer regardless, thoughtful.

"It would." Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"It is too pretty."

"It is a training robe."

"It is a pretty training robe."

"Yes," Xie Lianqiu says.

"And you'll outshine it. Come off your high horse, Liu Yinhua, and accept a gift." Liu Yinhua touches the sleeve despite herself. The cloth is not silk, though it has a smoothness the issued robes lack. The reinforcement catches faintly at her senses, not strong enough to stop a real blade or technique, but enough to keep a water shard from tearing straight through if Xie Lianqiu grows enthusiastic again.

"How much?" Liu Yinhua asks.

"For that one, two red stones." Liu Yinhua stills, even as Xie Lianqiu reaches for her pouch without hesitation, but Liu Yinhua turns to her before she can draw anything out.

"How much is a red stone worth in silver?" Xie Lianqiu pauses.

"It depends where you exchange it," she says, head tilted in thought.

"Roughly."

"In sect markets, around a hundred silver for a basic red stone. More outside, if someone is desperate or foolish."" Liu Yinhua looks back at the robe, and f or a moment, the market noise thins. A hundred silver. Enough to feed a person for months if they were careful and knew where to buy grain. Enough to pay rent in some corners of Suzhou long enough to breathe.

Enough that Madame Xue had once sent a servant into a rage over a missing bracelet worth less, and enough that Liu Yinhua's fingers feel suddenly too empty.

"One robe," she says. Xie Lianqiu watches her expression.

"A treated robe."

"It is one robe."

"Yes." Liu Yinhua looks at the shopkeeper, who has become deeply interested in folding the pale gold robe beside him.

"People spend this much on practice clothing?"

"People spend much more than this on practice clothing," Xie Lianqiu says gently.

"That is absurd."

"Yes."

"You agree?"

"I can agree and still buy it." Liu Yinhua's mouth tightens.

"A hundred silver." Xie Lianqiu's expression shifts, the teasing fading into something more careful.

"Silver means less here."

"It does not mean less to everyone."

"No," Xie Lianqiu says.

"It does not." The answer is quiet enough that Liu Yinhua has to look at her. Xie Lianqiu is not embarrassed this time, or not only embarrassed. She looks as if she has stepped on a bruise she did not know was there and is trying to decide whether to move away or stand still and be honest about it.

"I did say I forgot," Xie Lianqiu says, and it is almost apologetic. Liu Yinhua breathes out slowly.

"You did."

"I am remembering now."

"That sounds like a habit that could become expensive."

"It already is, just ask Duan Xueheng." Despite herself, Liu Yinhua huffs once, almost a laugh. Xie Lianqiu smiles, small and relieved, then places a red stone on the counter before Liu Yinhua can argue again. The older disciple checks the stone, and wraps the robe in brown paper tied with cord. Liu Yinhua takes the bundle when Xie Lianqiu offers it to her. It is heavier than she expects.

"I will pay you back," she says." No."

"Xie Lianqiu."" No," Xie Lianqiu repeats, brighter now.

"We discussed this."

"It is not settled just because you say it quickly."

"It helps."

"It does not."

"It helps me." Liu Yinhua looks down at the bundle in her arms, at the careful fold of the paper and the pale edge of the robe visible through a gap in the wrapping.

"Thank you," she says, quieter than she means to. Xie Lianqiu bumps her shoulder lightly against Liu Yinhua's arm.

"You are welcome. Now, tell me if Suzhou really wore willow green this spring, because I have questions and my sisters are likely to demand whatever I can find out." Liu Yinhua lets the subject move because Xie Lianqiu has offered the mercy of movement, and because green gauze is easier to discuss than gratitude.

"Willow green for outer layers. Pale yellow beneath if one was young enough to get away with it. Older women wore grey-lilac, which looked better than it sounds."

"Grey-lilac," Xie Lianqiu says, thoughtful.

"Duan Xueheng would look terrible in grey-lilac."

"Most people would."

"I would not."

"No," Liu Yinhua says, looking at her sidelong.

"You would look quite good." Xie Lianqiu laughs, bright and pleased, and links their arms again as they turn deeper into the market. Liu Yinhua lets herself be led past hair ribbons, sleeve ties, a table of enamelled pins, and a shop window where an off-duty robe hangs in pale cream and river green, embroidered flowers along the sleeve that shimmer and gleam when the cloth shifts.

It is exactly the sort of thing someone might wear to tea, or to walk the market with friends, or to look as if the world has not spent years deciding what use to make of her beauty. Liu Yinhua looks at it once, then looks away. They spend another quarter hour discussing Suzhou combs, Crimson Wastes sleeve cuts, whether coral suits anyone not deliberately inviting attention, and whether Shen Yuanzhou could be trusted to choose his own formal robe without supervision.

By the time they turn back toward the novice residences, Liu Yinhua has the teal training robe in her arms and Xie Lianqiu has acquired nothing but a packet of sweet dried plums. This lasts until the path splits near the lower gardens. Xie Lianqiu stops.

"I forgot something." Liu Yinhua looks at her.

"What?"

"A matter of dignity." She places the plums into Liu Yinhua's hand.

"Stay here." Xie Lianqiu disappears back into the market before Liu Yinhua can answer. She returns faster than she should, cheeks faintly pink from either haste or satisfaction, with a second paper bundle tucked under one arm. This one is narrower, tied with green cord rather than plain brown.

"No," she says.

"You have not even seen it," Xie Lianqiu says.

"I recognise danger by now."

"It is not dangerous." Xie Lianqiu holds it out.

"It is very pretty."

"That is often the same thing."

"It is the robe from the window."

"I know."

"You looked at it."

"I looked at many things," she says, with some faint exasperation leaking out.

"You pretended to not look at it." Liu Yinhua stares at her.

"Xie Lianqiu."

"Before you become severe, it was discounted."

"That does not improve this."

"It improves it a little," Xie Lianqiu wheedles, wiggling the package at her.

"It was not part of the apology."

"No." Xie Lianqiu's smile turns softer, though she keeps her voice light.

"But you're a cultivator now, and a lady as well. You need something to wear that isn't training robes." For a moment, Liu Yinhua has no answer. The path is quieter here, with the market noise behind them and the roofs of the novice houses just visible through the trees. The training robe sits solid in her arms. The second bundle waits between them, ridiculous and lovely and far too much.

"Gifts are complicated," Liu Yinhua says at last.

"I know."

"Do you?"

"I am learning." Xie Lianqiu lowers the bundle slightly but does not take it back.

"You do not have to wear it. You can hide it in your chest and glare at it every morning if you like. I will still consider that a partial success." Liu Yinhua's mouth betrays her, just a little.

"There," Xie Lianqiu says.

"Partial success already."

"You are impossible."

"Yes." She offers the bundle again.

"Take it anyway." Liu Yinhua should refuse, which is perhaps that is why her hands move more slowly when she takes it. The paper is smooth beneath her fingers. The green cord is tied in a neat bow.

"I will not be dressed like your doll," Liu Yinhua says.

"No," Xie Lianqiu says.

"You would be a terrifying doll, you glare much too darkly." Liu Yinhua looks down at the bundles, then back toward the path home.

"Tang Mingxia will have opinions."

"Tang Mingxia has opinions when water boils."

"She will ask how much it cost."

"Then lie," Xie Lianqiu says flippantly, already snagging her plums back to bite into one.

"I am not a good liar," Liu Yinhua says with a sigh, shifting both packages in her arms and wishing for once she hadn't agreed to this. She's finding this game a far more troublesome one than she thought it would be. Xie Lianqiu gives her a look. Liu Yinhua gives one back.

"All right," Xie Lianqiu says.

"Then distract her with a lie about how it was discounted at six red stones." This time, Liu Yinhua laughs under her breath before she can stop herself. Xie Lianqiu looks pleased, and a little triumphant. They walk on toward the novice houses, the late light catching the red glass lanterns behind them. Liu Yinhua carries the practical robe in one arm and the impossible one in the other, and feels the weight of both all the way home.