Chương 5: Lìchūn: Novice 5

Lines form with surprising order in the minutes after the elder's departure, helped along by the stewards' flat expressions as a brief introduction to the basic services of the sect is offered quickly, and the lingering memory of Elder Yun's voice fades. Liu Yinhua stands when the row before hers begins to empty. Chi Yanluo rises beside her, unhurried, and gives her enough room to step ahead of him without making a display of it. She inclines her head in thanks and joins the line.

Up close, the red stones are smaller than she expects. Each one is no larger than the first joint of her thumb, rough cut but faintly translucent, with a warmth inside that does not seem to come from the room or from the hand that gives it to her. The steward counts them onto a square of cloth with quick, practised motions. They click together softly, bright red against plain fibre.

"Name," the steward says.

"Liu Yinhua, of Suzhou." His brush moves across the register. If he notices anything in her name or her voice, he gives no sign of it.

"Keep them close. Lost stones will not be replaced."

"Yes, Steward." She folds the cloth around the stones and slides the bundle deep into her sleeve, securing it in the inner fold where the weight rests against her wrist. It is not hidden as well as she would like, but it is hidden well enough for the moment. Around her, other disciples are doing the same with varying degrees of care. A girl ahead of her holds her stones openly on her palm to admire them until an older-looking boy behind her murmurs something, and she startles, tucking them away.

Liu Yinhua steps aside. The hall is already becoming loud again, though the sound has changed. Before Elder Yun, the noise had been a room of strangers trying to decide how to arrange themselves. Now it is calculations, complaints swallowed into whispers, excitement, dread, the beginning of plans. She sees Tang Mingxia near the right aisle, speaking with one of the girls from earlier. Her posture is composed, but her hand remains pressed against the place in her sleeve where Liu Yinhua assumes her stones have gone.

Wu Cailan is near the rear doors, already pushing through the loosening crowd with her shoulders set and her head slightly lowered, as if the press of bodies is something to be endured. Chi Yanluo exits more slowly. The space around him remains, though in motion, it is less... clearly defined. People avoid without seeming to notice they are avoiding. Conversations pause for half a breath and resume after he has passed. He does not seem surprised by any of it.

He has collected his own stones and tucked them somewhere within his robe, and his expression as he nears the door is mild enough that Liu Yinhua thinks it must have been practised. She follows him outside because the hall has become too close, and because she had said she would keep his warning in mind, not that she would obey it without thought. The morning has warmed while they were inside.

Mist still clings to the lower paths, but the sun has begun to reach the edges of the stone courtyard, laying pale gold along the roof tiles and the pale glass lanterns hung beneath them. Disciples spill out in groups, some already arguing softly over which lesson to attend first. The words physical cultivation pass from mouth to mouth with a kind of bright hunger. Weapons training follows close behind. Chi Yanluo stops near the foot of the steps, neither in anyone's way nor hiding from the flow of people.

Liu Yinhua draws near enough to speak without raising her voice.

"You said that the steward would explain the public things badly," she says.

"You were more generous than the matter warranted." He looks over at her, and his mouth curves with something close to amusement.

"Elder Yun was clearer than most stewards would have been."

"That is not praise for the stewards."

"No," he agrees.

"It is not." For a moment, they stand with the movement of the cohort breaking around them. Up close in the daylight, she notices more of him. The fine quality of his collar. The red tie in his golden hair, brighter where the sun touches it. The ease in his stance is not laziness despite appearances. He glances toward the lower paths, then back to her.

"Do you know which lesson you will attend tomorrow?"

"Spiritual cultivation," Liu Yinhua says. She does not need to pretend to be uncertain there.

"I think. Yourself?"

"Spiritual tomorrow. Physical the day after, unless Elder Yun decides to make the first lesson so unpleasant that I need a day to recover my sense." His tone remains light, and his grin is a surprisingly warm thing. He still hesitates over something, it seems, warring in himself.

"I can tell you're not awakened yet properly, and you're certainly not a clan kid. I can... give you a few pointers, if you would like them." Liu Yinhua keeps her face still. Offers are rarely empty of subterfuge or desire. Chi Yanluo does not look at her as the men of the Tower had, but that is not a clean bill.

"What would you want in return?" she asks.

"Nothing today." The answer is too easy, and perhaps he sees that in her expression because he gives a small, rueful breath.

"I know how that sounds. Let me say it more plainly. I remember being the person who knew less than everyone else in the room, and I disliked it. If I can spare someone else some of that without costing myself much, I would prefer to do so."

"That is still a reason," she points out shrewdly, hands tucked in her sleeves as she watches him.

"Yes," he says.

"I did not say I had none." She studies him for a moment longer. He lets her, though she thinks he is aware of it in the same way she is aware of every glance cast their way from the courtyard. He is not careless. Whatever ease he shows, it is not ignorance.

"You said I should be careful where I sit tomorrow," she says.

"I did."

"And now you offer help in public." His smile fades a little, leaving something quieter behind.

"That is why I am offering in public." She turns to offer over and over in her head for a long moment, lips pursing just a little as she thinks it over.

"I would appreciate pointers," she says at last.

"So long as they remain pointers."

"That is fair." He looks toward the path leading down from the hall.

"There is a side courtyard beside the lower archive. It is open, and older disciples pass through often enough that no one sensible will start trouble there. After the midday meal, if you have time." She thinks of the red stones in her sleeve, the schedule in her room, Tang Mingxia's closed door. She thinks of Elder Yun's voice, naming unbacked talent as a matter of investment and debt.

"I have time."

"Good." His expression warms again, easier now that the shape of the offer has been accepted. She suddenly has a brief, vivid vision of a puppy overlapping his face and is somewhat bemused byt it as she refocuses on him "Bring the scroll you were given, if you have it. I can show you the parts most people trip over first in most formative texts, since they rarely differ. Not cultivate for you, obviously, but sometimes it helps to have someone point out where the words are being deliberately difficult."

"That is deliberate?"

"Usually." He glances back toward the hall with a look Liu Yinhua cannot quite read.

"Sects enjoy making this way harder than it should be." Liu Yinhua looks down before she smiles, small enough that it does not feel like giving too much away.

"I will remember that, Chi Yanluo," she says, offering a bow. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Chi Yanluo inclines his head.

"Then I will see you after the meal, Liu Yinhua." He bows and then steps away into the courtyard before the pause can become awkward. The crowd opens around him by old habit. Liu Yinhua watches long enough to see two boys near the far steps notice him coming and fall quiet, their faces closing into something that looks too practised to be mere dislike.

Chi Yanluo does not slow, and Liu Yinhua turns back toward the plaza, the red stones warm against her wrist, and Elder Yun's rules still arranging themselves in her mind as she searches for Tang Mingxia in the crowds outside the hall. She quickly finds Tang Mingxia near the edge of the courtyard, standing beneath one of the pale glass lanterns with two girls whose names Liu Yinhua does not know.

One wears her hair in twin loops held by pearl pins too small to be called ostentatious and too fine to be accidental; her robes are dark green. The other has a narrow face, clever eyes, and the stillness of someone who listens more than speaks, her robes the colour of seagrass. Tang Mingxia sees Liu Yinhua approach and inclines her head with the same careful courtesy she had offered in the hall. It is not exactly a welcome, but it is not a dismissal.

"Liu Yinhua," she says.

"This is Guo Meilin of the North Lantern Guo, and Zhao Ruxue of White Reed." Guo Meilin smiles first. She is pretty in a soft, polished way, with a round face and a mouth quick to smile. Zhao Ruxue offers the smaller nod, her eyes moving once over Liu Yinhua's robe, her hair, her empty cuffs, and then returning to her face.

"It is good to meet another housemate of Tang Mingxia's," Guo Meilin says.

"She mentioned that your residence filled very quickly."

"It did," Liu Yinhua says, bowing politely.

"It is an honour to meet you both."

"Of Suzhou, was it?" Zhao Ruxue asks.

"Yes."

"That is very far from here."

"So I am learning." Guo Meilin laughs lightly, a warm sound.

"You must have been brought in quite a hurry, then. How frightening." Liu Yinhua keeps her hands tucked in her sleeves and feels the red stones press faintly against her wrist.

"It was a strange journey," she admits.

"I imagine so. I have never liked travelling by sect carriage myself. They go too quickly, and one never knows what to do with one's hands." Guo Meilin's gaze lowers briefly, catching on the plainness of Liu Yinhua's sleeves before it lifts again.

"You arrived late enough to miss intake?"

"Elder Yun will handle the formal portion in the records today, I believe," Tang Mingxia says.

"Ah," Guo Meilin says, and the sound holds a small satisfaction, as though a piece has fitted itself into place.

"Then you were fortunate to find housing." Tang Mingxia's mouth tightens by a fraction.

"There was a room free."

"How fortunate," Guo Meilin says again. Liu Yinhua does not miss the repetition. She also does not miss Zhao Ruxue's quiet attention or the way Tang Mingxia looks briefly irritated at being made part of an exchange she cannot gracefully step out of.

"I was grateful," Liu Yinhua says.

"The day had already been long."

"That is true for all of us, I think," Tang Mingxia says, with the slightly clipped tone of someone closing a door before anyone can peer farther inside.

"Liu Yinhua, have you decided which instruction you will attend tomorrow?"

"Spiritual cultivation."

"As will I," Tang Mingxia says.

"Elder Yun seems severe, but I would prefer severity to vagueness in such matters."

"Elder Huan is said to be worse," Zhao Ruxue says.

"My cousin attended his first month of lessons three years ago and claimed that half the class limped back before the third bell."

"That seems useful to know," Liu Yinhua says. Guo Meilin gives her another small smile.

"Useful, yes, though I imagine some disciples have less choice than others. Weapons training will require a recommendation, and the physical path favours those with strong bodies from the start." Liu Yinhua thinks of Wu Cailan's shoulders, her rough hands, the way she had left early without fuss, and wonders whether Guo Meilin would have said the same thing in front of her.

"Then those disciples should train hard," Liu Yinhua says.

"Three months is not long." For a moment, Guo Meilin's smile remains exactly as it was before it warms again.

"You are quite practical."

"One tries to be," Liu Yinhua demurs. Tang Mingxia exhales through her nose, not quite amusement and not quite warning.

"We should return before the storehouse grows crowded. Wu Cailan may already be there."

"She went ahead?" Liu Yinhua asks, having not kept an eye on the girl as she spoke with Chi Yanluo.

"I saw her leaving before Elder Yun finished vanishing," Tang Mingxia says, then seems to hear herself and adds, more stiffly, "Not before the dismissal, of course." Zhao Ruxue's brows lift slightly. Guo Meilin laughs again, this time with a little more genuine feeling.

"How diligent," she says. Tang Mingxia does not answer that. She bids the other girls farewell with correct grace, and Liu Yinhua mirrors her before turning away. She feels Zhao Ruxue's eyes on her back for several steps. Guo Meilin's gaze is softer, but she thinks she likes it less. They walk in silence until the courtyard thins behind them and the path begins to slope down toward the novice residences. Other disciples move around them in loose clusters, most still full of Elder Yun's words.

Tang Mingxia glances at her only once before looking ahead again.

"You sat beside Chi Yanluo."

"I did."

"You spoke to him after."

"I did that as well," she says, seeing no reason to deny it. Tang Mingxia is quiet for a few paces. The green of her sash lies smooth against the pale pink of her robe, untouched by the wind.

"You should know that people avoid him for a reason."

"I assumed as much."

"Did he tell you the reason?"

"No."

"That seems unwise of him."

"Perhaps he thought it would be unwise to speak of it in the middle of the hall." Tang Mingxia looks at her, and Liu Yinhua meets her gaze without lowering her eyes. There is no anger in the other girl's expression. Irritation, perhaps, and something that may be a concern if Liu Yinhua is generous enough with it.

"He is from the Crimson Wastes," Tang Mingxia says at last as they travel.

"The Chi are old there, and old things from the Wastes are not always comfortable things to stand near. His clan led and won the civil war against their main clan branch, and now rule the area by Imperial Writ. You will need to learn far more of the history here, or you will shame our dwelling."

"I see," she says with a hum a few moments.

"You keep saying that." Tang Mingxia huffs, very softly, and there is the first hint of something less formal in it.

"That is not what people usually mean when they say it."

"I have noticed people often say it when they mean they would like the matter to end."

"And would you?"

"No," Liu Yinhua says.

"But I do not know enough to continue it wisely." Tang Mingxia accepts that with a slight inclination of her head. They pass a group of boys arguing over whether spiritual cultivation is necessary before body refinement, one of them speaking with such confidence that Liu Yinhua assumes he must be wrong. A girl in front of them clutches her sleeve where her stones are hidden and keeps looking behind herself as if expecting pursuit.

No one bothers her, at least not while the path is busy and Elder Yun's words still ring fresh in everyone's ears. At the storehouse, Wu Cailan is indeed already waiting, one hip braced against the outer wall and a small sack of rice hanging from one hand. She looks up as they approach.

"Took you long enough." Tang Mingxia's expression settles back into familiar lines.

"Some of us did not flee the moment dismissal was granted."

"Some of us dislike queues."

"There is a queue now." Wu Cailan looks past them to the growing line and grimaces.

"Then I was right to flee." It is not quite pleasant, but it is easier than the conversation in the courtyard, and Liu Yinhua finds she does not mind standing between them while Tang Mingxia presents their household token and Wu Cailan explains, with very little patience, that she already collected rice but not greens because the steward had been arguing with someone about whether wilted cabbage counted as spoiled.

By the time they return to the residence, the sun has climbed higher, and the novice district has begun to sound less like a place receiving disciples and more like a place attempting to contain them. Somewhere nearby, two girls argue in low, furious voices over whose room is whose, and Liu Yinhua hears the word challenge cut off halfway as though the speaker remembered the morning's warning just in time.

Inside their own house, the air is cool and still as Wu Cailan sets the rice down by the counter and rolls her shoulders.

"I'm doing physical cultivation tomorrow." Tang Mingxia unties the greens and begins inspecting the stems.

"That is unsurprising."

"You saying that like it's an insult?"

"I am saying it because it is true."

"It can be both with you, I'm figurin' out." Tang Mingxia pauses, then looks over with a faint crease between her brows.

"I did not intend it as an insult." Wu Cailan seems to consider that.

"Fine." The word comes out rough, but it is not hostile. Tang Mingxia returns to the greens after a moment, and Liu Yinhua lowers herself near the table with the schedule scroll drawn from her sleeve. She smooths it open and reads the times again, though she knows them already. First bell to third bell. The whole morning must be given to one path, not divided and balanced between the two. That, she suspects, is the first test, but she is unsure if she is seeing meaning where there is none.

Tang Mingxia sits across from her, setting aside a small pile of leaves too bruised to keep.

"You will still attend Elder Yun?"

"Yes."

"So will I." Wu Cailan snorts from the hearth.

"Enjoy sitting still."

"Enjoy being made to run until your lungs leave your body," Tang Mingxia says, then immediately looks as if she regrets saying it. Wu Cailan grins, sudden and bright enough that Liu Yinhua can see what she must have looked like as a child.

"That's more like it." Tang Mingxia lowers her gaze to the greens and pretends not to have heard, and Liu Yinhua lets the corner of her mouth move before she smooths it away.

"Chi Yanluo offered to give me some pointers after the midday meal."

"I will meet him in the side courtyard by the lower archive," Liu Yinhua continues, because it is better to tell them where she will be just in case this goes awry. Not that she thinks either of the girls would truly come looking for her.

"He says older disciples pass through often enough that no one sensible will start trouble there." Wu Cailan rubs at the back of her neck.

"That's true." Tang Mingxia looks at her.

"You know the place?"

"I walked past it this morning." Wu Cailan shrugs.

"It's a bad place to try and jump someone.

"That is not my only concern," Tang Mingxia says. Liu Yinhua watches them both.

"Should I not go?" Tang Mingxia is silent long enough for Liu Yinhua to know she is choosing her answer with care.

"I would not tell you not to," she says finally.

"Only that Chi Yanluo carries attention with him. Some will be hostile to him because of his origin, and some will be hostile to those who appear to benefit from him. If you are seen accepting instruction from him, people will make assumptions."

"People have already begun to that, including you both," she points out.

"Yes," Tang Mingxia says, eyes narrowing a little at that implication.

"They will make more." Wu Cailan leans back against the counter, arms folded.

"He's not bad from what I've seen. Better than half the puffed-up little princes in the hall." Tang Mingxia gives her a dry look.

"You have been here a day." The small silence that follows is not unfriendly. Tang Mingxia returns to trimming greens. Wu Cailan begins checking the hearth with the absent competence of someone who dislikes being idle. Liu Yinhua rolls the schedule closed and thinks of five red stones, of the low warmth that had answered her breath and vanished, of Elder Yun naming debt without apology, of Guo Meilin's soft smile and Zhao Ruxue's measuring eyes.

She has never liked owing anyone; she has also never survived by refusing every hand because it might close around her wrist. After the midday meal, Liu Yinhua returns to her room and takes the First Ember Method from beside the mirror. The bronze catches her sleeve as she reaches past it, and for a moment her own reflection looks back from the dull curve of metal, warped at the edges, green eyes too bright in the shadowed room.

She tucks the scroll into her sleeve with the red stones, then she leaves before she can think herself out of it.