Chapter 1: Death is only the Beginning.
Chapter Text
Jiāng Fēngmián had died.
He knew this.
He remembered.
✻✻✻
In his absence, the Wēn had attacked Lotus Pier.
When he, and the handful of disciples with him, had arrived, fierce fighting had long been underway.
Immediately, they had leapt into the fray.
Jiāng Fēngmián had been duelling a Wēn disciple; their swords dancing between them; his last blow had been deciding.
The disciple had fallen.
Wēn Zhúliú had slid up to him from behind; he had stretched out his arm, grabbed Jiāng Fēngmián by the shoulder, and spun him around.
A cold, dark, disabling, force had engulfed him.
Jiāng Fēngmián’s energy had been slowly, mercilessly, drawn out from him.
His golden core had … evaporated … in Wēn Zhúliú’s hand!
He had looked impotently to Yú Zǐyuān, dying on the pavement a few feet away, as she shed tears of blood; blood trickling from her nose; blood seeping from her mouth; blood pooling on the ground beneath her …
Many regrets had flashed through Jiāng Fēngmián’s mind as that moment.
Too little; too late[1] would have been a suitable epitaph, he had thought, as he had fallen to his knees, coughing up blood.
Wēn Zhúliú had dealt him the deathblow, running him through with his sword; Jiāng Fēngmián had toppled over on his face.
Ā-Chéng was safe.
Ā-Xiàn would take care of him.
They would get to Ā-Lí in Méishān.
They would make it …
Wēn Zhúliú had stepped on his back, his boot grinding Jiāng Fēngmián into the ground; he had felt something jab into him.
The precious stones on the comb he had meant to give Yú Zǐyuān for her birthday, bit painfully into his chest.
How fitting!
He had tried to laugh, but had choked on his blood.
At that moment, he had been certain that, with the mess he had made, if Yú Zǐyuān could have, she would have stabbed him with it herself.
✻✻✻
Jiāng Fēngmián had died.
He knew this.
He remembered.
Jiāng Fēngmián was bewildered.
Mysteriously, he had not passed on; his soul had lingered.
He had no idea how much time had elapsed since his death.
Nor where he was, except that it must be a market square in Yúnmèng.
That much was obvious from the accents.
He didn’t know how he had come to be there; nor why.
He looked around himself uncertainly, and recognized Wèi Wúxiàn!
The boy was … buying food! … Alone!
Where was Ā-Chéng?! Why had Wèi Wúxiàn left his side?
Then, Jiāng Fēngmián saw the Wēn seekers. They were moving in Wèi Wúxiàn’s direction.
He glided over.
“Don’t look to your right;” he said urgently, “The Wēn are here! Hurry and leave!”
Wèi Wúxiàn gave no sign of having heard him …
Jiāng Fēngmián abruptly remembered he was a spirit!
A wisp!
He had no means to interact with Wèi Wúxiàn!
✻✻✻
As he was pondering what to do, he saw his son appear on the corner of an alley giving on to the square.
Oh no !
Jiāng Chéng looked towards them, anxiously searching the crowd; then his brows relaxed.
It was clear to Jiāng Fēngmián he had seen Wèi Wúxiàn, and would head straight over!
Oh no ! Go away !
However, seemingly satisfied with having located his shīxiōng, Jiāng Chéng turned to inspect the rest of the square. Immediately, he also saw the Wēn seekers.
Jiāng Fēngmián saw his son come to his same conclusion: in a few moments, the Wēn would run into Wèi Wúxiàn.
Ignore them! Run! Go away!
Instead, to Jiāng Fēngmián’s dismay, Jiāng Chéng scowled, then broke cover. He walked out onto the square, bumped theatrically into a vendor’s stall, and immediately attracted the Wēn’s attention.
Oh no !
The Wēn saw Jiāng Chéng, and recognized him.
Jiāng Chéng turned, and ran; leading them away from Wèi Wúxiàn.
Jiāng Fēngmián whisked after them.
Jiāng Chéng sped off as fast as his legs could carry him.
He darted in and out of alleys; jumped obstacles; vaulted walls.
Good boy ! Jiāng Fēngmián cheered him on.
He had almost shaken his tail, when herounded a corner, and ... skidded into Wēn Zhúliú!
Oh! No!
Jiāng Fēngmián could only watch in horror as the Wēn disciples overpowered his son.
✻✻✻
Jiāng Fēngmián moaned in despair!
Jiāng Chéng’s life would be cut off before it had even begun…
His son would endure the same torture he had endured; the same miserable death!
Worse!
Jiāng Fēngmián had died sword in hand; as had Yú Zǐyuān; from what he’d heard of Wēn Cháo, Ā-Chéng’s fate would not be so fast; nor, so clean…
Yú Zǐyuān’s words came back to him:
“Jiāng-zōngzhǔ! Look carefully - this, is your own son, the future head of Lotus Pier. Even if you frown upon him, because I was the one who bore him, his surname is still Jiāng!”[2]
His only son!
Lotus PIer would be no more!
The Jiāng-shì would be no more!
Yànlí would be alone in the world! An orphan, foisted onto her grandmother’s shì.
No cultivation. No status. No husband.
At her grandmother’s death, how would she fare …?
If only he had not broken off her engagement to Jīn Zǐxuān!
She would have been married by now; and safe!
Where was Wèi Wúxiàn? Why had he left Jiāng Chéng alone?
Jiāng Fēngmián rushed back to the market square, but Wèi Wúxiàn had disappeared.
Like his father, like son; thought Jiāng Fēngmián in disgust.
The disgust was for himself.
✻✻✻
Wèi Chángzé, had been Jiāng Fēngmián’s best friend, his cultivation partner, his closest shīdì.
Wèi Chángzé had sworn they would always be together.
Wèi Chángzé had not kept his word.
Cángsè Sànrén had come down the mountain, and taken the cultivation world by storm.
Jiāng Fēngmián had lost his head; he would have married her on the spot.
Luckily for his father, Cángsè Sànrén had had no interest in becoming Jiāng-fūrén.
His father had wanted him to marry Yú Zǐyuān.[3]
The two shì had long been feeling out the possibilities, and throwing them together.
Jiāng Fēngmián had had no such intention.
Yú Zǐyuān made him uncomfortable.
She was certainly beautiful; and a very strong cultivator; but she was also very traditional; formal; aristocratic.
He had found her demanding.
Not because she had been; she had never asked anything of him; but, because he had felt under pressure around her.
To his father’s enormous irritation, Jiāng Fēngmián had refused several offers.
He and Wèi Chángzé had, instead, teamed up with Cángsè Sànrén, and gone carousing around.
Jiāng Fēngmián would have quit the shì for her, if she would have had him.
Cángsè Sànrén had chosen Wèi Chángzé.
Wèi Chángzé had gone back on his oath, and left the Jiāng-shì.
Jiāng Fēngmián had lost his best friend, as well as, the woman he had thought he loved.
In the meantime, Jiāng Fēngmián had also lost face; and everyone’s respect; including Yú Zǐyuān’s; as well as, any affection she might have had for him. In its place, he had earned her scorn; and her distaste.
With amazing detail, and clearness, every single one of his mistakes were laid out before him.
✻✻✻
“It is terribly unfair;” he complained to no one, “That everything becomes clear only when it is too late.”
Remorse such as he had never felt in his whole life welled up inside him.
If only he had had this clarity of vision when he had been alive!
He would have done things very differently!
No one could see him, or hear him, he thought regretfully; clearly, he was not a ghost.
He had undergone spirit calming ceremonies!
No matter how angry, or resentful, he became, he would not be able to haunt, infest, or disturb the living in any way!
He groaned in desperation. Shame overcame him.
How would he face his ancestors?
How would he face his shì?
His disciples?
His children?
His wife?
He remembered the final stab of pain in his chest; it had not been due to Wēn Zhúliú’s blade, but to the comb.
The comb he had never given Yú Zǐyuān when he should have; and that he haven’t had the chance to give her, when he had finally wanted to.
How useless, he thought sadly, to learn from one’s mistakes only when one could no longer apply the lesson.
✻✻✻
Why was he there?
Why had he not passed on to wherever spirits went?
Why was he there, if he could do nothing?
If only he could change the past …
It was said not even the gods could alter the past …
Do what is known cannot be done. [4]
Impossible.
Never attempt the impossible without achieving something first.
What had he ever achieved, if not the present disaster?
Bitter self-loathing rose inside Jiāng Fēngmián.
If only he had fallen on his sword, after Cángsè Sànrén had chosen Wèi Chángzé!
He might have done less harm, he thought regretfully.
Suddenly Jiāng Fēngmián felt again a jab of pain on his chest, as if the comb were biting into him.
He laughed bitterly at his own stupidity; he was dead; his pain was a phantom memory.
A moment later dark, he was assailed by searing hot agony.
Powerful, alien, energy woke inside him.
It rose at the base of his spine.
He could feel it sizzle, and slither ! It slowly uncoiled, and spread through him. Spires of it climbed painfully up his back, to his neck, and into his skull!
More coils snaked down his bowels; others slid into his co*ck!
Jiāng Fēngmián screamed in horror; as well as pain.
As he screamed, black spires snaked out of his mouth and nostrils; there was roaring in his ears; his vision clouded; he felt the fog seep out of his anus, out of his prick.
He dimly understood he was bleeding this stuff from all nine of his holes!
And, whatever it was, once outside, it turned back on him, and pressed against him; tendrils swirled around him, brushing against his face, tickling his ears, and nostrils… he could feel them!
Icy cold.
He inhaled, and felt his lungs painfully contract!
He gasped, and the dark coils dived back down his throat, and into his dāntián!
Jiāng Fēngmián uselessly screamed, and screamed.
It seemed to go on for ever.
Then, he felt he was shrinking, being sucked into a crack…
✻✻✻
Jiāng Fēngmián had morphed into a sinuous, inky, plume of energy. The plume swirled, condensed, grew smaller, darker, colder, heavier; until it had become an almost invisible speck.
With a dull pop, it was no more.
✻✻✻
[1] 太少了太晚了 = Tài shǎole tài wǎnle
[2] EXR Ch. 56 edited for context.
[3] In canon, Jiāng Fēngmián is not yet formally engaged to Yú Zǐyuān when he goes off with Cángsè Sànrén: « The entirety of the cultivation world knew that third lady Yu had cultivated together with Jiang Fēngmián when they were young. Jiang Fēngmián’s character was gentle, yet Yu Zǐyuān’s personality was harsh. The two didn’t share too many interactions. Thus, although their backgrounds matched, nobody associated the two as a pair. Later, Cángsè Sànrén came from the mountains, passed by Yúnmèng, and happened to become friends with Jiang Fēngmián. They had even night-hunted together on multiple occasions. Both thought highly of each other. People supposed that it was very likely for Cángsè Sànrén to become the next mistress of Lotus Pier.
However, soon afterward, the Méishān Yu Sect proposed an alliance through marriage to the Yúnmèng Jiang Sect.
The leader of the Jiang Sect back then was quite interested, but Jiang Fēngmián had no such intentions. He didn’t like Yu Zǐyuān’s conduct and felt that the two wouldn’t be an appropriate match. He had politely refused the offer a handful of times. However, the Méishān Yu Sect set about multiple factors, putting pressure on Jiang Fēngmián, who was at the time still fairly young and had nothing to lean on. Along with the fact that, not long later, Cángsè Sànrén had become cultivation partners with the most loyal servant at Jiang Fēngmián’s side, Wei Chángzé, and rode off into the sunset, roaming around the world, Jiang Fēngmián finally gave up.
Although Jiang and Yu were married, they had ever since been a grudging couple. They had always been living apart and held the most disagreeable of conversations. Aside from the strengthening of their sect’s powers, nobody knew what other benefits they had attained.
The founder of the Yúnmèng Jiang Sect, Jiang Chi, was born a rogue cultivator. The ways of the sect were honest and unrestrained. Madam Yu’s manners were the exact opposite.» EXR Ch. 56.
[4] 明知不可为而为之 = the Jiāng motto. EXR Translation: “attempt the impossible”; “do what is known cannot be done” taken from Nightmare by Dayadhvam https://archiveofourown.org/works/43057299
Chapter 2: Home is Lotus Pier.
Chapter Text
“Ā-Diē! Ā-Diē!”
“Hush! He’s sleeping… Come away!”
Jiāng Fēngmián opened his eyes, and blinked.
Two children ...
Where was he?
His office in Lotus Pier ??!!
He gazed at the children in astonishment.
His children, he suddenly understood!
Jiāng Yànlí, holding Jiāng Chéng by the hand, was quietly retreating.
Jiāng Fēngmián knit his brow.
Jiāng Yànlí stopped, and smiled shily, apologetically.
“I’m sorry we woke you Ā-Diē.”
Jiāng Fēngmián stared at her slack-jawed.
Jiāng Fēngmián had died.
He knew this.
He remembered.
“You can see me?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes…” Jiāng Yànlí answered, sounding puzzled; Jiāng Chéng chewed his lip uneasily.
“And hear me?” his voice sounded hoarse.
Both children nodded warily.
Jiāng Fēngmián rubbed his eyes.
He didn’t feel like a ghost… or whatever he’s been.
“Did you have a bad dream?” asked Jiāng Chéng timidly, “That can happen …”
“Maybe;” Jiāng Fēngmián smiled uncertainly at the boy, “What did you want to ask?”
“I want to show you … this;” Jiāng Chéng said hesitantly.
His sister nudged him; the boy stepped forwards, and extended a piece of paper.
Jiāng Fēngmián’s hand trembled visibly as he took the sheet.
He exhaled sharply in relief when his fingers closed around it, and held.
He was no ghost!
Yet … It had been no dream …
Jiāng Fēngmián had died.
He knew this.
He remembered.
Was this a dream ?
Do the dead dream?
Or, had he been given the chance to apply the lesson? To correct his mistakes?
Unconsciously, he had brought his hand to his heart; although it was not in his breast pocket, he could still feel the bite of the comb.
He realised both children were looking suspiciously at him.
Obviously, they thought he was acting strangely; and, he knew he must be pale with fright.
He concentrated on the page he’d been given.
Jiāng Chéng was very good with his calligraphy.
The boy had inherited the Jiāng talent for sketching as well.
Not that Jiāng Fēngmián had ever been interested before now.
HIs son had drawn a view of Lotus Pier with the lakes, and the mountains rising in the distance.
It was a child’s drawing, yet startlingly accurate.
In the lower right corner, four tiny figures gazed at the water with their backs to the viewer: a man, a woman, a boy, and a girl.
Underneath Jiāng Chéng had neatly written:
家
Jiā.
Immediately, Jiāng Fēngmián knew what day it was.
His eyes filled with tears, he could feel his lips tremble.
He mastered himself.
“It’s beautiful;” he said softly to Jiāng Chéng, “You did very well! May I keep it?”
His son’s face lit up at his compliments.
“Yes!” Jiāng Chéng nodded, “I made it for you!”
Jiāng Yànlí was smiling brightly.
Suddenly Jiāng Fēngmián couldn’t hold himself back any more.
He hugged his son fiercely to his heart.
“I love you!” he said firmly; he turned to Yànlí, and opened an arm to her.
A moment later he was hugging both his children tightly.
“I love you both!” he said, “I must tell you more often! I’m sorry. Thank you!”
✻✻✻
“What is going on?!”
Yú Zǐyuān walked into Jiāng Fēngmián's office, and stopped short.
“Ah! My Lady! There you are!”
“Ā-Niáng!” they chorused happily, “We are helping Ā-Diē put things away again!”
She eyed both her family, and the room, with patent irritation.
In the last hour, Jiāng Fēngmián had rifled through every box in there.
Most of them had already been returned to their places, but some still littered the floor and the table; cabinet doors were open; specks of dust floated in the air.
The three were hot, dusty, and mussed.
“We are almost done;” said Jiāng Fēngmián cheerfully, “Have a look at the sketch of Lotus Pier Ā-Chéng has made…”
It was obvious to him, that Yú Zǐyuān did as she was told out of sheer surprise at his request.
Clearly, she had not expected him to say something like that.
Ever.
If she thought he knew nothing of his son’s talent for sketching, he couldn't blame her.
Yú Zǐyuān hid behind the paper.
“Very good, Ā-Chéng;” she said proudly, “It’s lovely.”
“Thank you Ā-Niáng!” her son smiled happily at her, a smudge on his cheek, “I can’t give it to you;” he added regretfully, eyes like saucers, “Because..." he whispered loudly, as children will do, "Ā-Diē asked first!”
“Oh my!” murmured Yú Zǐyuān before she could stop herself.
Jiāng Chéng nodded his amazed agreement.
Meanwhile, Jiāng Fēngmián and Jiāng Yànlí had whisked the remaining boxes back to their places, closed the cabinet doors, and the office had resumed its usual semblance of order.
Not so her family.
“Come, Ā-Chéng;” said Jiāng Yànlí, forestalling her mother, and taking her brother’s hand, “We are all dusty, and messy; we need to clean up.”
“Thank you, my dear;” Yú Zǐyuān smiled at her daughter, “Run along, both of you. I expect you to be presentable for dinner!”
✻✻✻
“May I know what is going on?” asked Yú Zǐyuān coldly, as soon as they were alone.
Jiāng Fēngmián appraised her in silence; she was going to be harder to mollify than the children.
“I was looking for this;” he said carefully showing a packet, “Ā-Lí and Ā-Chéng gave me a hand.”
“Is this going to take all day ?” she huffed impatiently.
“No;” he laughed shortly, ruefully, “It will probably take all my life. But, this time, I hope to do better.”
“Fēngmián!” cried Yú Zǐyuān in exasperation, “I have no idea what you are talking about! What time? You sound drunk!”
“I am not drunk;” he reassured her, “It’s … for you.”
He handed it her.
The paper was dusty, and crumpled.
The ribbon frayed, and flattened.
It was patently old.
Yú Zǐyuān took it warily.
“What is it?” she asked suspiciously, making no attempt to open it.
“A comb. I should have given it to you long ago;” he sighed, “But I never did. I’m sorry. I hope you will accept it anyway. All I can say is: I give it to you today, as I had been meant to give it to you when I should have.”
Yú Zǐyuān didn’t say anything.
“My father had it set for us, after we first became engaged;” he added, “Unfortunately, I had already lost my head, and thrown my mind, and honour, to the wind…”
Yú Zǐyuān barked out a laugh.
“Fēngmián, you are drunk!”
“No, I am not;” he answered firmly, “Please listen. We were both forced into this marriage. But, I could see every single one of your merits, and your virtues. I should have wanted to do my best by you. To learn to love you;” he pointed to the packet she was holding, “I was meant to give you that on our wedding night...”
“Really Fēngmián! I see no reason for this conversation!”
“But I do;” he retorted drily, “I want to report I have succeeded.”
“What??!!”
“I love you;” said Jiāng Fēngmián, feeling terribly foolish, but knowing that it was true; “I know I’ve been indifferent… and aloof… to you, and to the children. I know I’ve been lax with the shì, indolent, unmotivated. I also know you’ve done an excellent job, as my wife, and as a mother. I want to say thank you for your efforts; for your help. And I want to say I’m sorry, for how I’ve been. I know it's not your fault. That you wanted this not at all. I’ll do better this time. I promise.”
She was staring at him agape. She still held the packet in her hand.
He smiled fondly at her.
“I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me, my lady;” he said seriously; “I apologise for leaving early, but I have to be on the central court in a few minutes, and I also have to wash up.”
He bowed, then he moved past her to the door.
“I came to tell you something;” she said shakily.
“I already know;” he answered sadly, “It doesn’t concern us.”
“You know ?!”
“Yes. You came to tell me Wèi and Cángsè have died.”
She nodded.
“I am sorry for them. I mourn their passage. It does not concern us;” he repeated firmly, “Wèi Chángzé left the Jiāng-shì many years ago. He made his own choice.”
Again she nodded.
“Please excuse me for leaving early, my lady,” he bowed again, and left.
✻✻✻
Yú Zǐyuān stared after him.
Her heart was beating irregularly.
Her eyes felt dry and hot.
It does not concern us.
She looked long at the crumpled packet in her hand, then she tucked it up her sleeve.
She finally turned to leave, sliding the door shut behind her.
✻✻✻
[1] 家 = Jiā = n. family; home; household; school; school of thought; adj. domesticated.
Chapter 3: Working on Hindsight.
Chapter Text
The whole of the cultivation world had been amazed by the unexpected resuscitation of the Jiāng-shì.
As ancient as they came, up there with the Wēn and the Lán in the lore of the Xuánmén Shìjiā, the Jiāng had long ago dwindled to the numbers of a very minor shì.
In the last hundred years, the Jiāng disciples had been average at best.
Jiāng Fēngmián’s ineffectual management, since he had become Jiāng-zōngzhǔ, had given everyone the idea that the funeral was imminent.
Then, unpredictably, after the deaths of Wèi Chángzé and Cángsè Sànrén, Jiāng Fēngmián had found his footing.
First, he had startled everyone by reviving the tradition of the annual Lotus Banquet; which hadn’t been held in eighty years.
Jiāng Fēngmián had invited all the shì on the ancient list he had found; firstly, and foremostly, the Wēn-shì.
He had added a few more shì that had appeared more recently: the Luō, the Qín; the Yáo.
The event had been devised centuries before to show off the lotuses at their first blooming.
To the guests’ surprise, it had been a spectacular affair, held on the ancient, magnificent, boats, that Jiāng Fēngmián had had returned to shipshape; and which could accommodate the company in luxurious style.
The feast had been preceded by aquatic competitions; and an archery contest.
Contestants of all the shì invited had been welcome to participate.
The first had been much appreciated for their rarity (very few had mastered swimming and sailing); the boat race had been pronounced a veritable extravaganza.
Archery was a staple of the cultivation world.
Nonetheless, the Lotus Pier contest had had been praised for the breath-taking choreography.
The archers had been ingeniously positioned on peaks above the lakes; while the targets had been placed on the peaks opposite them.
Comfortably ensconced on the boats, the spectators could see both.
To their delight, the glares arching in the sky, as the arrows flew to their objectives, had looked like shooting stars at midday.
The banquet itself had been held in a specially erected pavilion on the lake shore.
As night had fallen, floating lights had lit up amidst the flowers, while glittering holograms of dragonflies aimlessly meandered among them, lending a fairyland quality to the scene.
Wēn Ruòhán had gone so far as to give a very flattering speech.
He had pronounced the Lotus Banquet “Enchanting”; and lauded the initiative. He had remarked he hoped it would be “the first of many such occasions”; and that other shì, “in the spirit of reciprocity, communality, and participation,” would also offer such events.
✻✻✻
Immediately after that, word had gotten around that the lax, and laidback, training, that had once been the Lotus Pier staple, was a thing of the past.
The Jiāng-shì had adopted more rigid standards.
Yú-fūrén, and her maidens, were now training with Jiāng Fēngmián and the rest of the disciples on the central court.
Jīn-fūrén had remarked to Jīn Guāngshàn that it had been as though “an evil spell had suddenly been lifted from the man.”
Jīn Guāngshàn had had to agree with her that Jiāng Fēngmián had gone back to being the handsome, polite, urbane gentleman, that he had been “before that scattered person came down the mountain.”
Attracted by the talk, loose cultivators had started gravitating to Lotus Pier asking to join the shì.
Exactly one year after Jiāng Fēngmián had died, and had been returned to life to correct his mistakes, one-hundred new disciples had joined the Jiāng-shì.
Amongst them, one Zhao Zhúliú.
The young man had been expelled from his shì for melting the golden core of the person he had been fighting with. He had not even been aware he could do that; he was both remorseful, and shaken by what had happened. He was also desperate to have been cut off from his shì. Loose cultivation did not appeal to him.
“I understand it was an accident;” Jiāng Fēngmián had said to him, “You must understand it is never to happen again.”
Zhào Zhúliú had nodded.
“I want to be clear: if it does, I will feed you to the crabs.”
“Yes, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ.”
The last time Jiāng Fēngmián had looked, there had been three-hundred-and-fifty more aspirants requesting admittance.
✻✻✻
More than a year had passed since Jiāng Fēngmián had died, and had been returned to life.
That morning Jiāng Fēngmián was at Sun Palace to correct another mistake he had made in the past.
He saw Niè-zōngzhǔ enter the hall; and knit his brow in sudden concentration.
“Niè-zōngzhǔ!” Jiāng Fēngmián smiled widely, and bowed politely, “Good to see you!”
“Jiāng-zōngzhǔ;” replied the other, returning Jiāng Fēngmián’s bow.
“Do you have a moment?”
“I just want to mention;” said Jiāng Fēngmián confidentially, “That Wēn-zōngzhǔ has been gifted a brand new sabre. Unfortunately, some idiot told him you would think Niè sabres were better … Which they are, of course …”
“But I shouldn’t say that.”
“Right;” agreed Jiāng Fēngmián pleasantly, “If he asks, if I were you, I’d praise his new toy. Say it’s a priceless relic; an amazing artifact; a historical piece, or some such thing;” he looked pointedly at Niè-zōngzhǔ.
Niè-zōngzhǔ nodded.
“I don’t lie;” he said staunchly, “If he asks outright, what do I answer?”
“That Niè sabres can’t compare, because they are (merely) butchers’ blades?”
“That would be true;” answered Niè-zōngzhǔ slowly.
He looked speculatively at Jiāng Fēngmián, obviously surprised by the unprecedented familiarity he was being shown, as well as by the unexpected turn the conversation had taken.
“Whatever you say,” Jiāng Fēngmián murmured, almost inaudibly “Don’t let him touch your sabre.”
Niè-zōngzhǔ looked taken aback.
“What?” he asked, clearly thinking he had misheard.
“No touching;” repeated Jiāng Fēngmián evenly.
The man’s eyes widened in shock as he understood the implications of Jiāng Fēngmián’s words; after a moment he nodded solemnly.
“Thank you, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ;” Niè-zōngzhǔ bowed, “It has been a pleasure to meet you today.”
An hour later, Niè-zōngzhǔ had made it out of the Sun Palace throne room without mishap.
Wēn Ruòhán had shown him his new sabre, and Niè-zōngzhǔ had praised it to the skies, extolling all the positive aspects of the weapon.
“Niè sabres are simple tools;” he had serenely admitted, before he could be asked, “Made to hack and slice. Compared to yours, a butcher’s blade, no more.”
Wēn Ruòhán sat smiling on his throne, admiring his new sabre, fully satisfied the piece he had been gifted was a nonpareil.
He hadn’t even asked to see Niè-zōngzhǔ’s weapon.
Jiāng Fēngmián sagged in relief.
✻✻✻
“Jiāng-zōngzhǔ!” Wēn Ruòhán hailed him amiably, when it was finally his turn, “A pleasant surprise! Welcome to Sun Palace. What brings you to my humble abode?”
“Xiāndū;” Jiāng Fēngmián bowed formally, “Thank you for receiving me. I’m here for a very minor thing. My son, Jiāng Chéng, has a passion for dogs. He picked up a litter of stray puppies. A sorry lot, as you can imagine …” Jiāng Fēngmián rolled his eyes, “Unfortunately, they must have had some sort of disease, because all three have died. My son is weeping his eyes out. I was hoping you can point me to a good breeder, so we can gift him some proper, spiritual, animals to replace the ones he has lost.”
“Yes, certainly. There is an excellent breeder of spiritual dogs in Qíshān. Someone!” Wēn Ruòhán snapped his fingers, “Write up the directions for Wēn Yǎngyù[1]’s kennels.”
A moment later, a secretary handed Jiāng Fēngmián a piece of paper with the information.
“Please, go; and select any specimen you wish. They will be delighted. Do you know dogs are excellent swimmers? And good guards as well; although, geese are better.”
“Thank you, Xiāndū;” Jiāng Fēngmián bowed again, expecting to be dismissed.
“Love for animals is an interesting trait;” Wēn Ruòhán said conversationally, “How old is your son?”
“Almost nine.”
“I’m happy to see you take interest in your family, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ;” he added pensively, “It is possible I have misjudged you in this as well … You also have a girl, if I remember correctly;” he added after a moment.
“Yes, we do; Jiāng Yànlí; she has just turned eleven;” answered Jiāng Fēngmián, “Unfortunately she is weak; her cultivation is not strong.”
“Really? With parents like you and Yú Zǐyuān? How so? Have you seen our doctors?”
Jiāng Fēngmián shook his head.
“Why not?! You must do so immediately! Bring the girl for a check-up. Tell them the problems. You will be surprised by the resources we have available.”
“Thank you, Xiāndū, I will certainly do so.”
“She is promised to Jīn Zǐxuān if I remember correctly.”
“Yes, she is; she was engaged to him practically before birth!” replied Jiāng Fēngmián, ruefully, “Yú Zǐyuān and Jīn-fūrén set their hearts on it before the children were even born. As you know, they have been friends forever.”
“That is good;” Wēn Ruòhán remarked, “It is the ancient, traditional, custom. I approve of the old traditions. It gives the parties time to get know each other. To grow together.”
Jiāng Fēngmián nodded in wary agreement.
“Do you already have someone in mind for Jiāng Chéng?” Wēn Ruòhán asked, "Marriages forge excellent alliances. My wife was a Lóng. I never regretted the choice my father made."
“Er… No;” answered Jiāng Fēngmián.
“Excellent!” said Wēn Ruòhán happily, “Because I do!”
✻✻✻
Jiāng Fēngmián was taken aback.
He had not been expecting the conversation to end up on this track.
“If you don’t mind the girl being a bit older,” Wēn Ruòhán continued, “I think I have the right person for you. My cousin’s child, Wēn Qíng; she is a little beauty, and shows much promise. My cousin is unfortunately deceased; she and her younger brother, Wēn Níng, are my wards now. She inherits Yílíng, which is adjacent to Yúnmèng.”
“How old is she?”
“Almost thirteen.”
“Are your boys engaged already?” Jiāng Fēngmián asked trying to buy some time.
“Ā-Cháo, the younger one, is; he is ten;” answered Wēn Ruòhán, “I’m having trouble deciding on the right person for my eldest, Wēn Xù. He is almost fifteen, and should be engaged already. However, I have not found anyone suitable yet. He’s going to be Wēn-zōngzhǔ one day. His wife must be able to take on the shì duties as Wēn-fūrén. ”
Jiāng Fēngmián nodded.
He could see Wēn Ruòhán’s problem.
In his generation, the zōngzhǔ of the most prominent shì had all had boys. JIàng Yànlí was the only girl. He was suddenly thankful she was engaged to Jīn Zǐxuān.
The smaller shì were clearly excluded by default; Wēn Ruòhán would not marry his eldest son to a nobody.
There were lateral lines available.
Several Niè, and several Jīn, might have been the right age for Wēn Xù.
The Niè women, however, were warrior maidens (well-known to be “a handful”, probably not desirable as a zōngzhǔ’s wife).
While, a marriage alliance, of that level, between Wēn and Jīn, would certainly set up everyone’s back.
As to the Lán, no one had ever even seen a Lán woman; nor had it ever been heard that someone had married one.
The Yú were as ancient as the Jiāng and the Wēn; Jiāng Fēngmián reflected. Qíshān and Méishān bordered on each other. The Yú were small; but, they had always been an elite shì; snubbing their noses at numbers; rarely did they take external disciples; even less did they adopt. A more traditional, and less inclusive, shì was hard to find. A woman with Yú Zǐyuān’s background, however, would not be daunted by the task of becoming Wēn-fūrén.
“Did you think of the Yú?” he blurted out, before he could think better of it.
Wēn Ruòhán looked surprised.
“I had not;” he admitted, “I do see your point; and I will look into it. You have just paid your wife very a handsome compliment.”
“I have come to understand she is priceless;” acknowledged Jiāng Fēngmián humbly.
“I miss my wife sorely;” confided Wēn Ruòhán, “I loved her very much. She had a way of dealing with things that made my life much easier. If she hadn’t died, Wēn Xù would probably be engaged by now… I still deem her peerless…” he sighed heavily.
“I am sorry for your loss;” murmured Jiāng Fēngmián.
He remembered Wēn-fūrén, she had been stunningly beautiful; and a powerful cultivator in her own right.
Incredibly, four years before, she had died from a wasp sting!
Now he thought about it, in Jiāng Fēngmián’s previous life, Wēn Ruòhán had slowly lost his mind after her death.
✻✻✻
Chapter 4: Unforeseen Developments.
Chapter Text
“So, about your son;” Wēn Ruòhán changed the subject, going right back to his original point, “Send your matchmakers over; they can hammer out an agreement…”
In the end, because Jiāng Fēngmián could find no arguments to oppose to the other’s reasoning, and he could see all the benefits of the match, he agreed to send the matchmakers.
“Although, I wish to be clear on one thing,” he added firmly, “I have said the same to Yú Zǐyuān about Yànlí and Zǐxuān. If my son, or your ward, are not pleased with each other, I will not force the match on them.”
“I understand;” said Wēn Ruòhán agreeably, “I remember you were none too happy when your father chose Zhī Zhīzhū for you. On the other hand, you seem to have come to appreciate his point of view.”
Jiāng Fēngmián could only nod in agreement.
It was true.
But, for him to understand, Yú Zǐyuān had had to die before his eyes.
He had had to die.
Jiāng Fēngmián shivered.
“I have; but I will not push my son into a marriage he doesn’t want. And the girl must not be forced against her will.”
“I have trouble forcing Wēn Qíng to do anything;” said Wēn Ruòhán humorously, “Even her homework. She is the most headstrong child I have ever met. If she doesn’t care for your son, it is highly probable he will be the first to know! And, in that case, none of us will be able to do anything about it!”
✻✻✻
“I will walk you to the gates;” Wēn Ruòhán said rising, and coming down from his throne.
All interviews with Wēn Ruòhán took place publicly.
In the Sun Palace throne room.
With secretaries, council members, and bystanders, as witnesses.
If Wēn Ruòhán wanted to exchange confidential words with someone, when the interview was over he would “walk them to gates”.
This was known to be a hallmark of his favour.
“Gladly;” answered Jiāng Fēngmián politely, albeit uneasily, “I will be honoured.”
“I have heard you had words with the Lán-shì last year;” said Wēn Ruòhán directly as they set foot in the Sun Palace gardens, “About the accident.”
“I did;” confirmed Jiāng Fēngmián, wondering how the man was aware.
“You did well to do so. How were your words received?”
“Lán Qǐrén has as good as admitted the Lán-shì’s responsibility. However, as you know, he can do little.”
“Lán attitude is a thorn in my flesh;” said Wēn Ruòhán grimly, “A hinderance to the unity of the Xuánmén Shìjiā.”
“I am certain that if we act in concert, Xiāndū, we can bring them to more reasonable positions.”
“Concert?”
“Together. Think of a chorus. More voices singing the same song.”
“Will they sing spontaneously? Or must they be taught to do so?”
Jiāng Fēngmián saw the trap only because he knew what Wēn Ruòhán had previously hatched as a solution.
“We must think of songbirds;” he said mildly, “They can be taught to sing; but: through imitation. Caged, they do not learn.”
Wēn Ruòhán nodded.
“When did you become so wise?” he asked.
“After my death;” Jiāng Fēngmián answered unthinkingly.
He could have bitten his tongue off immediately after.
“Metaphorically, I mean;” he added lamely.
Wēn Ruòhán had stopped walking, and turned to look at Jiāng Fēngmián appraisingly.
“I see;” he said in all seriousness, “That would make a difference.”
“Yes;” agreed Jiāng Fēngmián, “It does.”
To Jiāng Fēngmián’s relief, Wēn Ruòhán seemed to have accepted his statement; he did not ask for details.
They walked in silence for a while.
The Sun Palace gardens were vast, and labyrinthic.
“So… I imagine, you are correcting your mistakes?”
“I hope so.”
“I believe you are; after all, hindsight is a perfect science;” said Wēn Ruòhán amiably; “We all make mistakes;” he added, “I imagine that if I had made any (in your previous life, I mean), they must have affected you.”
Jiāng Fēngmián nodded hesitantly; but he’d come too far to lie; and, he was a terrible liar.
“Then, I have hope you will be correcting mine as well;” said Wēn Ruòhán placidly, “Why don’t you come for lunch next week? Bring the whole family; my doctors can see Yànlí, your son can meet Wēn Qíng and Wēn Níng; you and I can discuss the Lán issue. I’ll send you an invitation. Thank you for coming today Jiāng-zōngzhǔ; and, I will say I’m sorry for anything I might have done.”
✻✻✻
“You are joking?!” gasped Yú Zǐyuān.
“I’m not!” said Jiāng Fēngmián anxiously, “I didn’t know what to say! As I mentioned I went for the dogs…”
“Fēngmián! Who cares about the dogs!”
Yú Zǐyuān was looking at him with veritable flames in her eyes.
Although, he had never told her so, he found her terribly sexy when she became like that.
Most probably, however, it didn’t bode well at all.
“You are sure he said Wēn Qíng?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! This is wonderful news!” unexpectedly Yú Zǐyuān clapped her hands, “I must write to Mother immediately !”
“You are not angry my lady?” he asked puzzled.
“Angry? I’m elated!”
“You approve, then?”
“Of course I approve! Whenever can we do better for Ā-Chéng!”
✻✻✻
Later that night, Yú Zǐyuān, alone in her apartment, opened a box, and pulled out the packet her husband had given her more than a year before.
She had not opened it. She had stored it away, and forgotten about it, till now.
When he had given it to her, she had been sure Jiāng Fēngmián had been inebriated.
Or, more likely, shocked by Wèi Chángzé and Cángsè Sànrén’s death.
Later, even when she had seen his transformation; she had been diffident.
She still was.
✻✻✻
When they had first been thrown together by their families, Yú Zǐyuān had immediately thought the differences between them to be insurmountable. Jiāng Fēngmián had obviously felt the same. Uneasily, they had dutifully tried to bridge the gap.
Then Cángsè Sànrén had come down the mountain, and it had been obvious to everyone that Jiāng Fēngmián had been very taken by her.
Yú Zǐyuān had thought herself off the hook, and had been relieved.
Yú Zǐyuān’s father and Lǎo-Jiāng, however, had not felt the need to change their plans according to Jiāng Fēngmián's inclinations.
To Yú Zǐyuān’s enormous embarrassment, her father had made an offer.
Jiāng Fēngmián had politely refused it; several times.
Yú Zǐyuān had been irked by the reiteration, but relieved by Jiāng Fēngmián’s firmness.
While she could do nothing to go against her father’s decision, Lǎo-Jiāng had no means to force his son to accept.
It hadn’t been pleasant that everyone knew the offer had been submitted, and rejected, again and again; but it had left her free of the burden.
Then, when she had finally relaxed, and come to believe nothing would ever come of the story, Jiāng Fēngmián had accepted!
Not only had Yú Zǐyuān found herself snared; she had also had to deal with the snickering, the gossiping, the commiseration.
It was bad enough that they were as different as night and day; and that everyone knew they had been forced into the match; but he had revealed himself a boor to boot.
Why refuse the offer repeatedly, if he had been going to accept it all along?
The grapevine said: for more money; more lands; more treasure.
Which was false; and, naturally, the talk was so vulgar it didn’t bear addressing, but it hurt.
Yú Zǐyuān had never run after Jiāng Fēngmián; never schemed to be wed to him.
Before finally deciding to marry her, Jiāng Fēngmián had dragged her through the mud, for no reason at all!
Then, he had behaved with complete indifference towards her.
As if he had truly believed her to be pleased to be his wife!
✻✻✻
Up until the day she had learned of the death of Cángsè Sànrén and Wèi Chángzé, not a word of explanation, or apology, had ever passed Jiāng Fēngmián's lips; much less one of affection, support, or comfort. He had had none to spare even for his children.
“ I give it to you today, as I had been meant to give it to you then… I should have wanted to do my best by you. To learn to love you… I want to report I have succeeded… I hope one day you will be able to forgive me.”
She looked pensively at the packet; then, before she could overthink, and change her mind, she tore at the wrapping paper.
Inside was an exquisite hair comb.
It was a famous heirloom; traditionally worn by every Jiāng-fūrén since time immemorial, made to couple the woman's emblem with the Jiāng one.
Jiāng Fēngmián’s mother had passed away long before their wedding; it had been reset for Yú Zǐyuān to wear.
Perfect identical amethysts, glowing the same colour as her eyes, formed the Jiāng Lotus.
Nestled among the petals, the Yú snake curled its emerald scales, and bit its tail.
Jiāng Fēngmián had not given it to her on their wedding night.
She had never been known as Jiāng-fūrén.[1]
Hot tears rose in Yú Zǐyuān’s eyes.
Swiftly, she crumpled the paper around it again, and stuffed everything back into the box.
✻✻✻
After the engagement between Jiāng Chéng and Wēn Qíng had been formalised, and Wēn Xù had become engaged to Yú Xīngwàng[2] (Yú Zǐyuān’s third younger niece), Wēn Ruòhán had taken Jiāng Fēngmián as his new confidant.
“I seem to be on a collision course with the Lán-shì;” he said, as they walked in the gardens, “I want your help, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ, to avoid it. As you know, my main problem at the moment is their idiotic behavoiur during night-hunts. You were personally involved in an accident some years ago, so you know what I mean; the same identical sort of accident that more recently cost the lives of Wèi Chángzé, Cángsè Sànrén, and numerous other loose cultivators. The casualties were so high, word has gotten around it was a battle! The Lán-shì must be made to change them!”
“Yes, Xiāndū, I agree; but, Lán Qǐrén is not Lán-zōngzhǔ, he is only acting in his brother’s stead. I have pointed out the need for action to him; but it will take some time, and work. Meanwhile, can I suggest a temporary solution?”
“Please do.”
“Have the Lán night-hunting rules copied out in regular script, and circulate the copies among the loose cultivators. At least, they will be aware of the Lán idiosyncrasies.”
“What? The Lán Rules are carved on the Wall of Discipline, outside of Cloud Recesses, for all to read!”
“Yes, Xiāndū; and I am certain you can read them. However,” Jiāng Fēngmián coughed in embarrassment, “Most of us, including myself, have very poor knowledge of seal script; we are accustomed to using regular script;[3]”
“Come now you’ve been to Cloud Recesses yourself;” said Wēn Ruòhán knitting his brow in irritation, “How did you pass?!”
“Those of us who attend Cloud Recesses will, normally, memorize the few rules we need to get through our courses there;” Jiāng Fēngmián admitted sheepishly, “Their night-hunting rules are discussed during the lectures. Problems arise mostly with the smaller shì (whose attendance fluctuates); and with loose cultivators. In theory, they can read the rules carved on the stone outside the gates; in practice, because its seal script, few are able to understand them. On top of it, there are over three thousand rules on that wall. How do they locate the pertinent ones?”
“You make an interesting point;” Wēn Ruòhán conceded, and pondered silently for a few minutes, “You understand that if I do as you suggest,” he said finally, “The Lán will be very upset?”
“It is much better that the Lán be upset, Xiāndū, rather than the Wēn;” he answered firmly, “It’s not as though Lán Qǐrén can do anything about it.”
✻✻✻
Wēn Ruòhán had had the Lán night-hunting rules transcribed in regular script, and had circulated copies among loose cultivators.
After his conversation with Jiāng Fēngmián, Wēn Ruòhán had come to realise that the common understanding of the Lán Rules was generic, and foggy, at best.
While the greater shì all sent their disciples to Cloud Recesses almost every year, the smaller shì usually attended Cloud Recesses only irregularly.
The fees were high, and the expenditure would be made only if a junior disciple showed real promise.
If there was no male issue, they might not attend for several years. Sometimes, a generation or more went by between students.
On a hunch, Wēn Ruòhán had all of the Lán rules written up in the original seal script, with the transcription in regular script next to it. He also organized them by theme, instead of the traditional numerical order.
The parallel-text edition was a raging success.
It had been immediately recognized as a priceless teaching aid with which to prepare the juniors beforehand.
All the shì who planned to send their children to Cloud Recesses the following year had promptly acquired a copy.
Naturally, the adults started studying the rules with their children.
Lán Qǐrén was not pleased with the scheme, but, as Jiāng Fēngmián had acutely pointed out, he had been able to do absolutely nothing about it.
“You have printed, and are distributing, an unauthorised edition of the Lán rules!” he remonstrated vehemently with Wēn Ruòhán..
“Don’t be ridiculous! The Lán rules are public;” Wēn Ruòhán countered, “The Wall of Discipline is, in fact, outside of Cloud Recesses precisely for that reason. I have merely had them transliterated into regular script, so they can be understood. Isn’t that the point? I hoped you would be happy of my efforts on your behalf.”
Lán Qǐrén had ground his teeth, but he had found nothing to say.
Once the Lán rules could be read easily, however, many shì were not happy with some of the tenets.
Firstly, and foremostly, rule seven.
Which meant the Lán disciples basically ignored all female cultivators.
Hence the problem with their night-hunting behaviour.
There was some outcry.
✻✻✻
[1] «Yú Zǐyuān… was Jiāng Fēngmián’s wife, and used to cultivate with him as well. Naturally, she should be called Jiang-fūrén. But, for some reason, everyone had always called her Madam Yú. Some people guessed that it was because she didn’t want to take on her husband’s surname due to her assertive personality. On this matter, neither the husband nor the wife in question had ever argued either.» EXR. Ch. 51.
[2] OC. 虞 = Yú = to worry; 興旺 = Xīngwàng = prosperous, thriving, to prosper, to flourish.
[3] 楷書 = kǎi shū = regular script; 篆書 = zhuàn shū = seal script.
Chapter 5: Taming Shrews.
Chapter Text
More than three years had gone by since Jiāng Fēngmián’s return to life.
The annual Lotus Banquet was being held for the third time.
It had become an important event on the calendar of the cultivation world.
Due its exclusive nautical setting, the socialites now ranked it above the annual Jīn Floral Banquet.
Jiāng Fēngmián standing with his children, admired his wife as she came towards them.
He had to admit she looked gorgeous in the ceremonial Jiāng robes; the purple setting off her eyes to perfection.
In her hair, to his surprise, she wore the comb he had given her the day of his return; she had never done so before.
She silently appraised him with an arched eyebrow; challenging him to say something.
“You look stunning,” he smiled, bowing formally to her, “Thank you, my lady.”
“Mother you do look beautiful!” Jiāng Chéng added.
“I’ve never seen that pretty comb!” Jiāng Yànlí had immediately remarked, “Is it new?”
“No;” Yú Zǐyuān answered, “It’s very old.”
“How come you never wear it?!” her daughter asked, “It’s very flattering.”
“Is it?”
“Suits you;” Jiāng Chéng agreed.
“I had lost it;” Yú Zǐyuān shrugged, “Now that I have found it again, I may wear it more often; we shall see.”
✻✻✻
That night, after all the guests had either left, or retired to their rooms, Jiāng Fēngmián walked Yú Zǐyuān to her apartment.
The fairy-tale spectacle was still visible on the waters; the enchantment had been created to activate at dusk, and deactivate at dawn. They stopped on the terrace in front of her doors to admire the view, which, as hosts, they had had little leisure to do during the evening.
“It is very beautiful;” she murmured, “Seen from here, it does look like Fairyland.”
“As Wēn Ruòhán said earlier, you are its queen, my lady;” he replied gallantly, “And, for you, I wish it were always so. Alas, tomorrow, it will be the muddy, turbid, expanse of lakes it always is. Which is all the Jiāng have ever had to offer.”
“From these muddy lakes, lotuses grow;” she answered quietly, “And, they grow nowhere else.”
He nodded, unsure where she was headed.
“After the leafing, the mud settles; when the flowers blossom the water is clear;” she added cryptically.
Yú Zǐyuān had always been indisputably beautiful; elegant, sophisticated, distinguished; a powerful cultivator. She had refined Zǐdiàn as her spiritual tool, earning the title Zǐ Zhīzhū before she had even come out.
She had been seventeen, and he eighteen, when they had been thrown together by their shì.
It had been a political choice made by their families.
Neither had been happy with the prospect; nor had they been taken by each other.
Obedient to their parents, to their respective duties, and roles, they had tried to make things work.
He had tried to be polite, attentive, charming.
She had tried to respond accordingly.
Their interactions had become uneasily friendly.
At one moment, he had intuited that beneath the aloof, and haughty, façade Yú Zǐyuān presented to the world, there was a more, passionate, sensual, and fragile woman.
Cángsè Sànrén had come down the mountain.
Anything that might have been, had been swept away in her wake.
Seeing the comb in her hair this day had brought back all the memories.
“I lost my head;” he said suddenly, “She was so unconventional, so exotic!” He laughed shakily at his own naiveté, “She came down the mountain, and became the rage. How could we not have taken the chance, and teamed up with her?! You know! In the beginning, you where there with us!”
“I was;” Yú Zǐyuān answered calmly.
✻✻✻
It had started as the usual (ferocious) competition in cultivation.
Everyone had wanted to see Cángsè Sànrén’s prowess.
Everyone had been either trying to show her down, or to bed her; possibly, both.
Then for Jiāng Fēngmián, it had become a bid for freedom.
After having met her, it had seemed to him, that all he had needed to do was divest himself of the Jiāng robes, and follow her. From then on, they would have gone jaunting around the world fighting chaos, with no other responsibilities; no other concerns…
He had thought then, that Jiāng Chí, his esteemed ancestor, had been mistaken when he had abandoned the nomadic life of the rivermen to anchor himself at Lotus Pier, and embroil himself in the Xuánmén Shìjiā.
In his youthful arrogance, ignorance, and pride, Jiāng Fēngmián had thought he had known better.
Jiāng Fēngmián had then believed they would do as in olden times.
They, Cángsè Sànrén’s followers, would be a group of people upholding shared ideals; a ménpài only in the loosest sense.
No headquarters; no hierarchy; no heirs.
Except: Cángsè Sànrén had not considered herself a teacher; she had had no wish to lead.
Just as Jiāng Fēngmián had been running away from his father, and the Jiāng-shì, Cángsè Sànrén had been running away from Bàoshān Sànrén, and the ménpài on the mountain.
Once the novelty had passed, and it had become clear that Cángsè Sànrén would neither join a shì, nor would she be taking disciples, most had stopped tagging along with her.
Suddenly, it had no longer been about cultivation. Much less shared ideals.
It had been about Cángsè Sànrén.
Or rather, it had been about who Cángsè Sànrén was going to choose.
To Jiāng Fēngmián’s horror, the competition had become between himself, and Wèi Chángzé.
Jiāng Fēngmián had not really understood until it had been spelled out for him.
“You are going to do what??”
“We are going to get married.”
His best friend had walked away with the woman he loved.
Jiāng Fēngmián had returned to Lotus Pier a man with shattered ideals: friendship, love, shared ethics, were all a hoax. Sentimental whims for the gullible and deluded.
He had submitted to his father’s will with irritated indifference, and had become engaged to Yú Zǐyuān.
✻✻✻
The night of his wedding, his father had given him the comb.
It had been his mother’s, and every Jiāng-fūrén before her.
His father had had it reset for them with the Yú snake.
“Give it to her when you are alone,” he had exhorted, pressing the packet into his hand, “A welcoming gift; a propitiatory one. A bid for unity, and harmony, between you. Fēngmián, you must participate!”
He had not wanted to participate.
He had not given her the comb.
Nor had his wedding night been what his father had hoped.
Jiāng Fēngmián preferred not to dwell on the embarrassment; the horrifying need to perform; the feeling of being a stud; and she a cow. The memory didn’t bear dredging up.
In the discharge of conjugal duties, Yú Zǐyuān had submitted to his lovemaking with rigid, frigid, passive, endurance, until she had become pregnant.
Then she had shut the doors on him.
Jiāng Fēngmián had been readmitted only because Jiāng Yànlí was a girl.
Yú Zǐyuān had known her duty was to provide a male heir to the shì.
Gritting his teeth, Jiāng Fēngmián had also done his part.
After Jiāng Chéng’s birth, Yú Zǐyuān had considered her role to have been played in full.
Jiāng Fēngmián had sighed in relief.
He had not set foot in her apartments in a dozen years.
In his past life, he had not expected to do so ever again.
But, Jiāng Fēngmián had come back changed from his death experience.
In this life, he unexpectedly found himself hoping to…
✻✻✻
You are so beautiful… Can you not forgive me?
The words stuck in his throat; misery swamping him.
How could he say that?
He shifted his gaze back to her face, and found she had been observing him; an odd little smile playing on her lips, the moonlight glinting in her eyes.
Unable to stop himself, he moved close to her; to his surprise she did not move away. As he was taller, she merely tilted her head back slightly, to hold his gaze.
Before he could think better of it, Jiāng Fēngmián wrapped her in his arms, and held her close.
“I am a fool;” he whispered in her hair, “I’m so sorry; so sorry… ”
“And I…” she answered, her arms also rising to embrace him, “And I…”
“Can we start over?” he mumbled, a tremor passing through him.
“Maybe…”
He found her face, tilted her chin up, and tentatively brushed her lips with his own.
Yú Zǐyuān did not turn her head away. She did not seal her lips in rejection, mutely refusing to be kissed, as she had always done in the past, the few times he had tried to kiss her.
Her lips remained soft, and pliant under his. Jiāng Fēngmián went back for more; and her lips parted slightly.
Fifteen years after he had become engaged to her, fourteen years after he had married her, Jiāng Fēngmián finally kissed his wife.
Later that night, Jiāng Fēngmián reflected that the last few hours might well have been worth dying for.
Nine months later Jiāng Zàicì and Jiāng Zàidù[1], were born.
✻✻✻
Jiāng Fēngmián’s “words with the Lán” had led Lán Qǐrén to successfully find a way to be able to act for the shì as if he were zōngzhǔ.
“Basically, they have declared Qīnghéng-jūn dead;” Wēn Ruòhán had said vexedly.
“In seclusion, he is as good as dead;” Jiāng Fēngmián had pointed out.
“But he may come out of it …”
“He may, but in that case he will no longer be Lán-zōngzhǔ.”
“What about the bloodline?!”
“Lán Xīchén will become Lán-zōngzhǔ after his crown ceremony; Lán Qǐrén, however, is now able to act more freely.”
If they had hoped for quick and resolutory action, they were deceived.
✻✻✻
“From what we understand, the Lán female disciples night-hunt separately. Have you ever reflected on this point?” Wēn Ruòhán asked Jiāng Fēngmián on one of their walks.
“Not really.”
“Think about it now. How can it be done?”
“What?” Jiāng Fēngmián asked perplexed.
“Would a group of Lán female disciples go unnoticed?”
“Er… No, probably not.”
“Then where are they? Where do they night-hunt that no one has ever laid eyes on them?”
“Up north, beyond Qīnghé?” he suggested, perplexed; he’d never spent a minute on the issue before.
“You think a band of women, night-hunting in the northern wilds, all dressed in white, would go unremarked? This would be the stuff of legends, my friend! Everyone would know!”
Jiāng Fēngmián had to agree. It was true.
“Very simply: it is unrealistic that the Lán female disciples night-hunt in solitude;” Wēn Ruòhán had concluded “If they night-hunt at all, they must per force do so with others.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that, obviously, they must not be dressed in Lán robes.”
“But a group of female loose cultivators would attract just as much attention!” Jiāng Fēngmián countered.
“It would;” Wēn Ruòhán nodded, he smiled lazily, and plucked a blossom to sniff.
Jiāng Fēngmián waited patiently to be enlightened.
“In the major night-hunts, there are usually a lot of people milling around;” Wēn Ruòhán pointed out, “It is not uncommon to see groups of mixed disciples mingling. No one would remark on a group of disciples from different shì, chatting together; even with some loose cultivators among them.”
Jiāng Fēngmián stared at Wēn Ruòhán in fascination.
“In a small shì like yours, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ, you all know each other on sight; but, in big shì like mine, or like the Jīn-shì, or even the Niè-shì, we do not know everyone personally. If I cross a group of disciples chatting, I will not be in the least surprised if I don’t know who they are. We recognize each other mostly because of the robes; they are our uniforms; that’s why we all wear them.”
“You are saying the Lán female disciples night-hunt with the rest of us, but camouflage their appearance by wearing the colours of other shì?!”
“Not even their own men would recognize them!” Wēn Ruòhán answered gleefully, “Especially, if they crossdress.”
Jiāng Fēngmián gaped at him.
“They wouldn’t recognize their wives? Or daughters?”
“You are fortunate, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ!” Wēn Ruòhán laughed in his bewildered face, “Your wife has violet eyes; you would be able to distinguish her anywhere! But if one of your Shīmǔ were dressed as a man, in Wēn robes, wearing a radically different hairdo; possibly, some make up, or even a fake beard, or fake moustache, would you be able to recognize her?”
“Probably not;” he admitted, “But why dress as men? And why should their men not know?”
“Because they are promiscuous, of course!”
“What?!”
“Do not disturb the female disciples[2];” intoned Wēn Ruòhán dramatically; “You forget the prohibition applies firstly, and foremostly, to the Lán. The rest of us, who grow up co-ed, seem to have no trouble learning not to pester girls; and to curb our passions.”
“You make the whole shì sound like a bunch of lechers!”
“Maybe they are!” Wēn Ruòhán laughed again, “The more monkish types are usually the ones with supressed urges, and repressed cravings. As everyone knows, if the Lán fall in love, they become mad. It does make sense for their women to be leery. Moreover, the only way they can count on Lán help, if they need it, is to dress as men!”
In the next big night-hunts Jiāng Fēngmián had observed attentively.
Once he had known what to look for, it had not been hard to spot them.
Not all of them cross-dressed; all of them wore camouflage colours.
The robes they wore were not copies of real uniforms; but close enough to give that impression from a distance.
“To be honest, I had not believed you;” he said to Wēn Ruòhán, the next time they went walking together, “But, you have solved the mystery of the Lán women! What do you mean to do?”
“Nothing at all;” Wēn Ruòhán replied tranquilly, “I won’t say a word; and I entreat you to silence as well. The problem lies not in the Lán women night-hunting separately from their men, but in the actions of Lán male disciples during night-hunts.”
Jiāng Fēngmián nodded.
“Moreover, the Lán women seem to adhere to the common principles; and, they certainly expect the rest of us to do so. That’s why they cross-dress, and night-hunt far from their men!”
✻✻✻
“Maybe, I should call for an Indoctrination Conference;” Wēn Ruòhán had said gloomily, a year later, when there had been another accident; “Everyone does as they please with no regard for the other! They all seem to have forgotten Wēn Māo’s basic tenets. And: people die because of it!”
“We need to find another name;” Jiāng Fēngmián had replied, his blood running cold; “If you use Indoctrination it will set up everyone’s back. Let’s start with the night-hunting problem, I believe many shì feel the need for a common charter. If we go public, Lán Qǐrén should be able to deliver at this point.”
Wēn Ruòhán had drawn up a list of requirements he expected the Xuánmén Shìjiā to comply with during collective night hunts.
Jiāng Fēngmián had passed it on to Niè-zōngzhǔ as “a tentative draft of shared night-hunting rules”; asking him to look over it, and pass it around to the smaller shì; “Ideas, comments, and additions are welcome;” he had added.
He had done the same with Jīn Guāngshàn.
As Jiāng Fēngmián had expected, many smaller shì had agreed wholeheartedly with the initiative.
These, and loose cultivators, were the ones with the highest night-hunting casualties.
A protocol of common intent had been drawn up. The Lán-shì had grumbled; but Lán Qǐrén had delivered. The charter had been signed by the all five the greater shì, and many of the smaller ones.
Niè-zōngzhǔ, being the practical man he was, had pointed out that rules, without the training to implement them, would do little to mitigate the problem. To Wēn Ruòhán’s delight, he had proposed a “collective, active, night-hunting programme” for the juniors; where they could “learn to coordinate” with each other. “A way to cut down on future night-hunting mishaps.”
The idea was promptly endorsed by the five greater shì.
✻✻✻
In Jiāng Fēngmián's last life, Wēn Xù had regularly gone to Cloud Recesses; he had done so this time as well. This time, however, the Niè-shì had not been in mourning; Niè Míngjué had also been there that year.
Being the strongest cultivators of their age group, the two of them had become fast friends. Both had acquitted themselves more than creditably with the Lán.
All the Wēn juniors after him, had also gone regularly to Cloud Recesses, including Wēn Cháo.
Although, the last had been a sad disappointment to his parent, and his teachers, alike.
To Wēn Ruòhán’s chagrin, Wēn Cháo had gotten expelled for attempting to break into the female quarters, and then fighting with the guards who had caught him.
Nonetheless, Jiāng Fēngmián felt the collision course between the Lán-shì and the Wēn-shì had been averted.
✻✻✻
[1] OCs. 再次 = Zàicì = once again; 再度 = Zàidù = once again.
[2] In EXR CH. 114, in the same scene where Wèi Wúxiàn finally meets the female cultivators, Lán Wàngjī quotes:
“The seventh rule on the Discipline Wall of Cloud Recesses is: disturbing female cultivators is prohibited;"
"Disturbing" is 惊扰 (Jīngrǎo) in Chinese: to disturb; startle; alarm; agitate. https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/惊扰
Chapter 6: Satisfaction.
Chapter Text
More than thirteen years had passed since Jiāng Fēngmián had died, and had been returned to life to correct his mistakes.
During these years, Jiāng Chéng had grown into a tall, handsome, young man.
Predictably, without Wèi Wúxiàn’s presence constantly overshadowing him, he had also done much better.
He was a strong cultivator, ranked fifth amongst his peers.[1]
With his beloved sword, Sāndú, he had devised an interesting technique, which had turned out to be very handy in close combat.
It had won him the title of Sāndú Shèngshǒu.
Moreover, at Jiāng Fēngmián’s request, his mother had trained him to use Zǐdiàn, which he would inherit; he had become quite adept with it.
Attired in the traditional red and gold, the young man stood outside of the Lotus Pier gates, anxiously (and impatiently) awaiting his bride.
The ceremony had originally been scheduled for three years prior.
Wēn Cháo’s sudden death, a handful of days before it was to take place, had cancelled the event.
Wēn Ruòhán’s younger son had been consuming a romantic dinner with his latest paramour, when, ironically, he had somehow choked on turtle soup.
Jiāng Fēngmián had been the only one to see the macabre humour of this death.
The Wēn-shì had gone into the traditional three years of mourning; the wedding had been postponed.
Jiāng Fēngmián, standing next to his son, knew Jiāng Chéng secretly feared something else would happen to impede the course of events.
He wryly thought back on the couple’s first encounter.
He, for one, would not have called it auspicious.
✻✻✻
Wēn Qíng, as Wēn Ruòhán had truthfully asserted, had been (and still was) a wilful little beauty.
Having been informed Jiāng Chéng was going to (potentially) be her husband, the young minx had immediately subjected the boy to a cross-examination.
She had always been petite; while Jiāng Chéng had been tall for his age. Jiāng Chéng had not understood Wēn Qíng was older than he was; he had been in no way cowed by the pert, and pretty, girl. He had politely answered her questions until he had had enough of her haughty attitude.
To everyone’s horror, when he had seen through her ploy, he had given her a firm set-down.
“Look here;” he had said, scowling dreadfully, “If you don’t want to be Jiāng-fūrén that’s your loss! I don’t mind; I don’t even know you!”
Wēn Qíng had suddenly smiled brightly.
“Oh I’m so glad you have a temper!” she had exclaimed, “I do too! Everyone tells me off! But I know you will understand! And now you know I will understand! We can be comfortable together!”
Yú Zǐyuān had snapped open her fan to hide her mirth.
✻✻✻
Once Jiāng Chéng had been formally betrothed to Wēn Qíng, Jīn Zǐxuān’s natural antagonism had quickly dissipated.
The engagement had given Jiāng Chéng status in Jīn Zǐxuān’s eyes.
In everyone’s eyes.
If no one in memory had ever married a Lán, none could remember the last who had married a Wēn either.
Certainly not one as well-endowed as Wēn Qíng.
Wēn Níng, naturally, had been as jealous of Jiāng Chéng, as Jiāng Chéng had been of Jīn Zǐxuān.
Thanks to the dogs (the new ones – three gorgeous, black, spiritual, huskies), Jiāng Chéng had managed to coax Wēn Níng out of his doldrums, and gain his affection. The two had become verily like brothers.
In turn, Jiāng Chéng had gained a better understanding of Jīn Zǐxuān’s position.
He had grudgingly suppressed his fraternal jealousy of Jiāng Yànlí.
The two would probably never become close friends; but their relationship was now courteous, and pleasant.
✻✻✻
Across from Jiāng Fēngmián, Jiāng Yànlí, now Jīn-fūrén, was smiling happily, the baby Jīn Ling, whom Jiāng Fēngmián had not had the pleasure to meet in his past life, cradled in her arms. Jīn Zǐxuān, now Jīn-zōngzhǔ, hovered lovingly next to them, cuddling Fairy; the puppy Jiāng Chéng had gifted his Jiějiě as soon as the boy had been born.
This time, Jiāng Fēngmián thought proudly, Jīn Zǐxuān had found nothing to displease him in his daughter.
After Jiāng Fēngmián’s return from death, and change of attitude, Jiāng Yànlí had already been doing much better. Moreover, the Wēn doctors had correctly diagnosed her problem, and prescribed adequate cures. She had rapidly benefitted from their treatments.
However, in Jiāng Fēngmián’s mind, the real difference had been made by Wēn Qíng, who had immediately befriended her sister-in-law-to-be.
“I study energy; and cores;” she had said, “When I'm grown up, I’m going to be a doctor. I’ll help you. Until we both get married, we can be cultivation partners.”
Jiāng Yànlí had quite literally flourished.
She would never be an outstanding cultivator; but she was certainly in the average.
She was able to fly her sword, Tūnyàn[2], and to go through all the fencing forms; she was rather good at qīnggōng, but very weak in gōngfū.
A warrior she was not; but then, neither was Wēn Qíng; who, without doubt, was the strongest female cultivator of her generation.
Jiāng Yànlí’s looks had also improved.
She was not the peerless beauty Wēn Qíng was, but she was certainly no longer plain.
The rosy glow in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, the lustre of her hair, made a huge difference.
The sweetness of her demeanour, coupled with the elegance of her bearing, lent her a special charm.
When she smiled, no one could resist her.
Not even Jīn Zǐxuān.
Nor could any resist her soup.
Not even Wēn Ruòhán.
All in all, Jiāng Fēngmián felt Wēn Qíng had been a blessing.
✻✻✻
Next to Jiāng Yànlí, stood her two younger brothers, Jiāng Zàicì and Jiāng Zàidù, now almost ten years old.
The twins had been angels until they had started walking.
After that, (excepting their mother) the only ones who had been able to manage them (with the aid of Jiāng Chéng’s dogs) had been Jīnzhū and Yínzhū.
At the moment, his wife’s trusted maidens stood behind the two imps, with a quelling hand laid on their shoulders; Prince and Love (Fairy’s parents; Jiāng Chéng now bred his dogs) lay at their feet, blocking any escape.
The twins had formed their core at age seven; and looked set to become a real problem once they received their swords.
Jiāng Fēngmián and Yú Zǐyuān were both very proud of them.
Jiāng Chéng adored them, and spoiled them rotten; as did their Jiějiě.
Five years ago, Jiāng Yànlí had aptly dubbed them the Yúnmèng Shuāngjié; and the name had naturally stuck.
Again, Jiāng Fēngmián alone had seen the irony of it.
✻✻✻
Seven year old Jiang Xīnjìn[3], wearing her first formal gown with long flowing sleeves, stood preening next to Yú Zǐyuān.
Jasmine (Jiāng Chéng’s third dog) was sitting attentively next to her.
Zhào Zhúliú, standing behind them, eyed his charge adoringly.
Born two years after the twins, Jiang Xīnjìn was the spit image of her mother; and just as headstrong.
She had been four years old when she had escaped supervision, and tried to use a large lotus leaf as a floatation device. It had worked; but the currents had drawn her to the centre of the lake.
Jiang Xīnjìn had understood what was happening; in a panic, she had abandoned the leaf, and tried to swim back to shore.
When Zhào Zhúliú had miraculously fished her out of the water, she had been exhausted, and floundering.
Zhào Zhúliú was enormously grateful to have been accepted in the Jiāng-shì.
He had never melted a core again.
Training at Lotus Pier, the young man had discovered he could use the power in his hands more constructively: he was able to displace water very efficiently.
An important technique for a Jiāng disciple.
He had soon risen in the ranks, and become highly respected.
His loyalty was beyond question.
Jiang Xīnjìn brush with death had terrified Yú Zǐyuān; she had demanded her daughter be given a minder, and a dog, like her brothers before her.
Jiāng Chéng, as horrified as his mother, had willingly supplied Jasmine to keep her in check.
The minder had not been more difficult to find.
“I want him;” Jiang Xīnjìn had said firmly, taking Zhào Zhúliú’s hand, “He’s good at saving me! I like him.”
“I agree;” Jiāng Yànlí had nodded, “I think he’s perfect!”
In truth, Jiāng Fēngmián relied mostly on the canine, as Zhào Zhúliú appeared completely subjugated by the violet eyed child.
The only person all three of his younger children obeyed instantly was, of course, their mother.
An arched eyebrow was enough to send them scurrying.
On the other hand, that was true of everyone at Lotus Pier.
Yú Zǐyuān had truly done him proud.
Jiāng Fēngmián hoped she felt the same.
✻✻✻
The long-delayed wedding was, of course, the event of the season.
All the major shì had been invited.
At the moment, only the Wēn were missing; they would be arriving with the bridal cortege.
Meanwhile, Niè-zōngzhǔ was chatting away with Jīn Huánghūn (Jīn Zixūn’s father), and Jīn Zǐxuān’s mother, now known as Jīn-Tàihòu[4].
After Jīn Guāngshàn’s death, the two had led the Jīn-shì until Jīn Zǐxuān had been old enough to take his father’s place.
The day Jīn Zǐxuān had turned fifteen, the usual multiple ceremonies had taken place at Koi Tower.
In the morning, the young man had officially received his curtesy name, and his sword, Suìhuá.
Afterwards, while all the shì had been toasting Jīn Zǐxuān in the banquet hall, to Jīn-fūrén’s great displeasure, Jīn Guāngshàn had suddenly been called away.
Ten minutes later a very frightened servant had come in to say there had been a terrible accident.
Jīn-Guāngshàn had somehow had words with a completely unknown young man.
They had been standing at the very top of the long, and magnificent, flight of steps that led up to the central court.
It was unclear what exactly had happened.
A large bead had been found. It was thought one of them had slipped on it, and grabbed the other; both had tumbled to their death.
The shock had, comprehensibly, been immense.
Fortunately, both Jīn Huánghūn and Jīn-fūrén had shown excellent capabilities in leading the shì until Jīn Zǐxuān had turned twenty.
And in scotching the possible scandal.
Few knew that the young man had turned out to be one of Jīn Guāngshàn’s unrecognized children.
✻✻✻
Nearby, Jīn Zixūn was talking animatedly to Niè Míngjué, Niè Huáisāng, Qin Sù, and Mò Xuányǔ, another of Jīn Guāngshàn’s unknown offspring.
The Niè boys had also done much better this time around, thought Jiāng Fēngmián to himself.
Having been spared the trauma of their father’s death, the elder had never developed the dark, uncompromising, nature he had exhibited previously; he was engaged to be married to Qín Sù.
The girl had grown into a lovely young woman. She did indeed take her cultivation seriously. A quality that had probably attracted Niè Míngjué more than her beauty.
The younger Niè had bloomed like his own Yànlí.
Niè Huáisāng would never be the outstanding warrior his Dàgē was, but he had become a respected cultivator. Early on, he had refined a war-fan, Shànzi[5], which was considered a top-grade spiritual tool.
Mò Xuányǔ, fifteen years old, and tagging at his heels, could only be described as beautiful. He had a slight figure, elfin features; long sparkling eyes; plump red lips curved into a charming, dimpling smile. In short, he was very feminine.
After Jīn Guāngshàn’s death, Jīn Huánghūn had unearthed yet another of his brother’s illicit affairs.
A visit to Mò Manor had convinced him that it was not the right environment for the boy to grow up in.
Knowing Jīn-fūrén would not welcome him in Koi Tower, he had quietly asked Niè-zōngzhǔ to foster him.
Niè zōngzhǔ had generously agreed.
Mò Xuányǔ, however, had shown little aptitude for cultivating sabres, and for the harsh martial training of the Niè.
Niè Huáisāng had had the same problem, and had been able to relate.
He had taken the boy under his wing.
Naturally, Mò Xuányǔ adored him. He considered Niè Huáisāng his teacher, and himself a privileged disciple.
✻✻✻
Jiāng Fēngmián shifted his eyes to where the Lán were assembled.
Wēn Ruòhán had not gone crazy this time around.
Not even after Wēn Cháo’s untimely death.
No waterborne abyss had appeared in Bìlíng Lake.
Cloud Recesses had not been attacked by Wēn Xù.
Qīnghéng-jūn was still alive, and still in seclusion.
There had been no Indoctrination Conference at Dusk Creek Mountain.
Jiāng Fēngmián sometimes wondered about the Xuánwǔ of Slaughter; so far, he had thought it best to let sleeping monsters lie.
Lán Qǐrén stood amiably chatting with Qín-zōngzhǔ and Qín-fūrén.
Next to him, the Three Jades of Gūsū stood impeccably side by side.
Lán Xīchén had officially become Lán-zōngzhǔ when he had turned twenty; he was attentively lending an ear to his uncle’s conversation. Sù Mǐnshàn hovered near by. He had never left the Lán-shì. He and Lán Xīchén were cultivation partners, as the euphemism went.
As if feeling his gaze on them, Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī turned to look at Jiāng Fēngmián.
Wèi Wúxiàn’s face immediately broke into a dazzling smile; Lán Wàngjī nodded shyly.
Jiāng Fēngmián smiled fondly back.
✻✻✻
[1] Niè Míngjué and Wēn Xù are not included in this (my) ranking; Niè Míngjué is five years older than Niè Huáisāng, and the rest of the gang; here, he and Wēn Xù are the same age.
[2] 吞咽 = Tūnyàn = swallow (bird).
[3] 新近 = Xīnjìn = once again; one more time; newly.
[4] Jīn Zǐxuān’s mother; 太后 = Tàihòu = dowager (a widow with a title, and/or property, derived from her late husband); I believe in China it was a title used only for like the dowager Empress. I'm stretching it a bit.
Chapter 7: I Did the Right Thing.
Chapter Text
The day after his death, and return to life, Jiāng Fēngmián had gone directly to Cloud Recesses.
“You have heard of the accident?” Lán Qǐrén had asked immediately.
“Qǐrén, that was no accident! And you bloody well know it!”
“Jiāng-zōngzhǔ!”
“Don’t you zōngzhǔ me!” he had growled, “Thirteen years ago you almost got us all killed! Cángsè Sànrén let it ride, and only trimmed your beard in retaliation! I shut up back then, because, as you know, I wasn’t talking to my father. This time, they died!”
“Oh! Fēngmián! Don’t be ridiculous! They knew our rules! They knew what to expect!”
“CHANGE THE f*ckING RULES!”
“I f*ckING CAN’T!”
“What?!”
“You’re not the only one who knows how to swear!”
“Who cares if you swear or not! Why can’t you change the rules?”
“I am not zōngzhǔ! I’m only standing in for Qīnghéng-jūn! I cannot change the rules!”
Lán Qǐrén had glared at him.
Jiāng Fēngmián had taken a deep breath, and a turn around the room to calm down.
In his previous life, only years later, and by chance, had he discovered what had really happened to Wèi Chángzé, and Cángsè Sànrén; it had been a replay of the old scenario.
Wèi Yīng had already been safe at Lotus Pier by then, and Jiāng Fēngmián had not found the will to lodge a formal complaint, and stir up a wasps’ nest.
In this life, he had made use of that information immediately.
“Listen Qǐrén,” he had said evenly, “If the Lán don’t change their course; if your shì refuses to accept that there are loose cultivators; that there are female cultivators; and that there are loose female cultivators; and you don’t change the rules, you are riding for a very hard fall. This time, the Jiāng-shì will not support you.”
“I have just told you I do not have the necessary power! What do you mean this time?”
“Do you consult with Qīnghéng-jūn?” he had asked, ignoring the question.
Lán Qǐrén had looked irked.
“Of course not! He’s in seclusion! I don’t even see him! Once a month, he sees Xīchén and Wàngjī. They only discuss cultivation. No current events; no gossip; no worldly concerns.”
“Do you think Qīnghéng-jūn will be coming out of seclusion?”
“No;” Lán Qǐrén had gloomily shaken his head.
“For all we know,” Jiāng Fēngmián had continued, “Qīnghéng-jūn may live a hundred years more. Who is going to act for the shì meanwhile? Don’t the Lán have a decision making process they can resort to if their leader is incapacitated?”
“He is not incapacitated!”
“As zōngzhǔ he most certainly is!” Jiāng Fēngmián had retorted hotly, “You have just told me he is far from worldly concerns; so, he knows nothing of what is going on. He will not meet with his disciples, or sit in his council! If he won’t see anyone, or go anywhere, he can’t do anything either! He might as well be a radish!”
Lán Qǐrén had pensively stroked his beard.
“It seems to me the position of zōngzhǔ and the practice of seclusion should be mutually exclusive;” Jiāng Fēngmián had added, pressing his point home, “If the person who is zōngzhǔ opts for seclusion, he should no longer be zōngzhǔ.”
“You may have a point;” Lán Qǐrén had finally conceded, “I will have to take a look at the rules again. There are some corollaries I might have dismissed too easily.”
✻✻✻
“I expect you to retrieve their child, and foster him.”
“What child?!”
“Wèi Yīng, Wèi Wúxiàn,” he had enunciated patiently, “Wèi Chángzé’s child with Cángsè Sànrén.”
“Wèi Chángzé was a Jiāng disciple!”
“Not anymore; he left the shì long ago. The Jiāng-shì has no obligation. While, due to how they died, the Lán-shì does. Moreover, teaching is what the Lán do best. The boy is almost eight; the right time to start training. He is of an age with your younger nephew, who has also lost his mother. They will find comfort in each other.”
“And how am I supposed to find him?!” Lán Qǐrén had thrown up his hands in exasperation, “By reading tea leaves?!”
“No need;” Jiāng Fēngmián had replied crisply “They left him at an inn in Yílíng.”
This time, there had been no search for months on end.
He had already known where to find the boy.
The Lán disciples had picked him up that same day; long before the innkeeper could have reason to decide Wèi Yīng had been abandoned by his parents, and throw him out onto the streets.
Jiāng Fēngmián had been present at the archery contest in Qíshān where Wèi Wúxiàn had fiddled with Lán Wàngjī’s mǒé. He had known exactly what that had meant.
At that time, in that life, he had not been able to find the strength to act in any way on that knowledge either.
He had not been able to find the will, nor the face, to go to Lán Qǐrén and say:
“You know Wèi Wúxiàn is Lán Wàngjī’s Mìngdìng Zhīrén; he should be at Cloud Recesses.”
In that life, he had egoistically wanted to keep Wèi Yīng close to him.
That had been the primary reason he had searched for the boy, and taken him back to Lotus Pier.
He had not cared that his actions were bound to raise venomous gossip; and that his wife and children would be the first to bear the brunt of them.
He had been blind to the fact that all this was bound to also hurt Wèi Yīng.
In that life, Wèi Yìng had become the receptacle for all of Jiāng Fēngmián’s misplaced affections.
The boy had incarnated both Wèi Chángzé (his once best friend), and Cángsè Sànrén (the woman he had once loved); Wèi Yīng had compensated for their loss.
Wèi Yīng had also compensated for his weak daughter, and for his uneasy son.
Jiāng Fēngmián had even been able to see Wèi Yīng as the child he might have had with Cángsè Sànrén.
That his own children’s conditions might be due to his disaffected attitude towards them and their mother, had never crossed his mind.
Jiāng Fēngmián had wallowed in his delusions to the detriment of everyone; including Wèi Yīng. All he had been able to do was spoil him.
Looking at him now, Jiāng Fēngmián knew he had done Wèi Yìng justice.
✻✻✻
Lán Qǐrén had related to Jiāng Fēngmián that when Wèi Yīng had first arrived at Cloud Recesses, his attention had been immediately drawn by the vivid patch of gentian flowers that graced one of the gardens.
“Who is that Shīfu?” he had asked, pointing to a white dot in the blue field.
“Lán Zhàn, my second nephew.”
“Why is he there?”
“His mother has died; but he is too young to understand;” Lán Qǐrén had replied sadly, “Today, if she were alive, he would have met with her. He is waiting there, hoping she will open the door, and let him in.”
“How old is he?”
“Your age…”
“He is not too young. I understand my parents are dead.”
“Maybe then he does not want to.”
Wèi Yīng had let go of Lán Qǐrén’s hand, and had scampered up to the patch of colour; he had promptly knelt in front of Lán Wàngjī.
“Hello; I’m Wèi Yīng… My mother has also died; I’m sorry for your loss.
He had leaned over, and hugged Lán Wàngjī tight.
By the time Lán Qǐrén had gotten there, both of them had been crying softly in each other’s arms.
Lán Qǐrén had thought better not to interrupt them, and had retraced his steps.
Sometime later, Lán Wàngjī had appeared, with the boy firmly in tow.
“Ah! Good!” Lán Qǐrén had smiled benignly, “I see you’ve met Wèi Ying…”
Lán Wàngjī had nodded solemnly.
“Mine!” he had said; and had dragged Wèi Yīng to his room.
The two had immediately become inseparable.
Lán Qǐrén had candidly admitted to the boys that Wèi Yīng’s presence at Cloud Recesses was due to Jiāng Fēngmián. The next time Jiāng Fēngmián had gone there on shì business the two children had waylaid him.
“Thank you very much, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ, for having me brought here;” Wèi Yīng had bowed, “I am very happy!”
“I am also thankful;” Lán Zhàn had bowed.
“Excellent;” Jiāng Fēngmián had beamed at them, “I am glad to have been of service.”
To Lán Qǐrén’s irritation, the two boys had developed a sort of hero-worship for Jiāng Fēngmián.
Lán Huàn had been immensely pleased to have Wèi Yīng at Cloud Recesses; his presence seemed to have had a quasi-magical effect on his Dìdì. To his delight, Wèi Yīng had been able to draw him out, coaxing him to socialise, and mingle with his peers.
On the other hand, as time had gone by, Lán Qǐrén had become progressively more annoyed with the boy. Wèi Yīng’s unquenchable exuberance had gotten plenty of Lán children, including both his precious nephews, into “unprecedented ” scrapes.
Time, love, and Lán discipline, had worked their miracles.
Wèi Wúxiàn had grown into the handsome, smiling, young man Jiāng Fēngmián remembered; but better; he was less co*cky; and less boisterous; but, more self-possessed, and quietly self-assured.
He had, of course, learned to cultivate with just as much success; he ranked third strongest cultivator of his age group. The first two being the Lán-shì Shuāng Bì.[1]
He had also learned to play the dízi with excellent results; a novelty for Jiāng Fēngmián.
Chénqíng was a magnificent instrument.
Wèi Wúxiàn had learned calligraphy with somewhat greater elegance, and had even mastered seal script (that had been due to Niè Huáisāng, when he had been at Cloud Recesses Wèi Wúxiàn had taken full advantage of Wēn Ruòhán’s parallel-text edition).
To Lán Qǐrén’s dismay, Wèi Wúxiàn had been dubbed Lán-shì Hēi Yù[2]; the Black Jade of Lán.
He and Lán Wàngjī had married three years before. It had been a private affair, which hardly anyone was aware of. Most people simply assumed they too were cultivation partners, and looked no further.
Lán Qǐrén had not been pleased. But, once again, there had been nothing he could do about it.
✻✻✻
When Jiāng Chéng had turned fifteen, he had also gone to Cloud Recesses.
During his stay he had become fast friends with Niè Huáisāng; and, as Jiāng Fēngmián had hoped, with Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī, as well as.
Both had been very excited to finally meet their revered Jiāng Fēngmián’s son.
“Your father is the coolest person in the world!” Wèi Wúxiàn had told a puzzled Jiāng Chéng.
“We are immensely thankful to him;” Lán Wàngjī had clarified, “For saving Wèi Yīng’s life.”
Jīn Zǐxuān had not been there that year because he had been in mourning.
Jiāng Fēngmián was certain, however, that even if Jīn Zǐxuān had gone to Cloud Recesses, there would have been no cause for fighting this time.
Although, curiously, Niè Huáisāng had remarked to Jiāng Chéng that his Jiějiě looked set to marry a peaco*ck.
“Really?” Wèi Wúxiàn had asked.
“Really;” Jiāng Chéng had replied in mock despair, “And I a phoenix.”
“Really?”
“Really;” Wēn Níng, also attending the lectures that year, had corroborated proudly, “She is awesome!”
“Come visit in Yúnmèng this summer;” Jiāng Chéng had offered, “You can meet Wēn Qíng, and my Jiějiě …”
“She makes the best soup…” Wēn Níng had chimed.
“Soup?”
“Yes; lotus and rib.”
“Yum!”
✻✻✻
“I think they cut their sleeve;” Jiāng Chéng had confessed uneasily, when he’d been back home, “Niè Huáisāng and Wēn Níng had the same impression.”
“I’m sure you mean they are cultivation partners;” Yú Zǐyuān had amended equably, “Like Ā-Qíng and Ā-Lí.”
Jiāng Fēngmián and his son had exchanged silent glances.
“Can you believe it? Wèi Wúxiàn called his sword Suíbiàn !”
Jiāng Chéng had promptly changed the subject, shaking his head in amazement.
“Whatever! Hilarious! They can come visit, right?" he had asked apprehensively, "You don’t mind I invited them?”
“You did well;” his mother had answered tranquilly, “It is good you learn to socialise with your peers.”
✻✻✻
“Did you know the boy was there?” Yú Zǐyuān had asked, later that night, when they had been alone.
“I did;” he had answered truthfully.
This time, there had been no vile gossip. Yú Zǐyuān had been too busy with the twins, the baby, and her newly found conjugal serenity, to follow the social talk. She had heard of the Third Jade of Gūsū, but had not thought he might be an external disciple.
Much less, Cángsè Sànrén’s child.
“Was it your doing?”
“It was, my lady.”
“You said it didn’t concern us.”
“It doesn’t. It concerns the Lán;" he said staunchly, "Their night-hunting rules caused the accident. I merely ensured they took responsibility for their errors.”
“You could have brought him here.”
“Yes, I could have; but I would have sparked a wave of gossip. People would have believed I am like Jīn Guāngshàn was. You, the children, and even the boy, would have suffered from it.”
“I would have taken him in.”
“I know you would have;” he had smiled at her, “And, I know you would have hated me for it.”
“I would have;” she had agreed grimacing, “I am relieved to know he is alive; and, that you did the right thing.”
“I didn’t realize you were concerned for him. You didn’t say.”
“How could I not be? Am I not a mother myself?” Yú Zǐyuān had answered, “The child was my first thought when I heard; I came to talk to you about what had happened, but you said it didn’t concern us…” she shook her head in disbelief, “You were acting so strangely that day; I thought you were in shock from the news. I expected you to bring up the issue when it had worn off, but you never did. I have often fretted over the his fate; I have never found the courage to ask.”
“I should have told you I had had him taken to Cloud Recesses;” Jiāng Fēngmián had admitted ruefully, “I didn’t want to …”
“Open old wounds?”
He had nodded.
“I understand;” she had smiled reassuringly, “You did well.”
✻✻✻
Chapter 8: Yúnmèng Summer.
Chapter Text
The summer after Jiāng Chéng had been to Cloud Recesses, Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī had come to Lotus Pier as promised.
Wēn Qíng and Wēn Níng had also been invited; as had Niè Huáisāng.
“Why don’t you pull in a few more juniors?” Niè-zōngzhǔ had suggested, “We could have an informal trial run for the programme we’ve been devising.”
“Yes; absolutely!” Jīn Huánghūn had endorsed him, “Although we are still in mourning, I believe a stay at Lotus Pier would do Zǐxuān much good. With what has passed, he’s feeling very low, poor boy. He can visit with my Zixūn, and a couple of shīmèi.”
“The Ōuyáng boys;” Niè-zōngzhǔ had added, “They are good riders.”
“I hope you won’t get saddled with Wēn Cháo!” Jīn Huánghūn had remarked, grimacing.
After being expelled from Cloud Recesses two years before, Wēn Cháo had become even more problematic.
A greatly vexed Wēn Ruòhán had privately admitted this to Jiāng Fēngmián.
“No chance of that!” Jiāng Fēngmián had said thankfully, “Wēn Cháo detests Lotus Pier. He feels sick on a boat; he doesn’t know how to swim; just looking at water makes him queasy. On top of it, for some reason, the mosquitoes adore him! I have to say, I even felt sorry for him the last time he came over.”
“That’s a piece of luck!” Niè-zōngzhǔ had exclaimed, “Last year when he was up in Qīnghé, he ended up fighting with half of my girls.”
“I’m sure that must have been a sobering experience for him;” Jīn Huánghūn had remarked.
“You said it;” Niè-zōngzhǔ had chuckled, “He got thrashed, and ended up in the surgery, every time!”
“Thanks to your Yànlí, you can invite Luō Qīngyáng, and Qín Sù as well;” Jīn Huánghūn had added, “I’ve heard both young ladies take their cultivation seriously.”
“Luō Qīngyáng?”
“She is not of the blood; born on the wrong side of the bed. Luō-zōngzhǔ sired her with a retainer. After her mother died, Luō Qīng recognized her, and adopted her into the shì.[1] The girl is very talented.”
“Right;” Jiāng Fēngmián had agreed, “I’ll add the Ouyang boys, and the two girls to the list. If we put together four per shì, it gives us a solid basis to test our ideas.”
✻✻✻
Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī had arrived first; Jiāng Fēngmián had planned on a longer stay for them.
Wèi Wúxiàn had finally met Jiāng Yànlí.
As it had been the first time, so it had been this one.
Jiāng Yànlí had no sooner laid eyes on Wèi Wúxiàn, that she had loved him; Wèi Wúxiàn had responded immediately in kind.
“I’m so happy to meet you!” she had gushed, “Ā-Chéng has told me so much about you! Welcome to Lotus Pier.”
“Yes; welcome to Lotus Pier;” Yú Zǐyuān had echoed, with the baby Jiāng Xīnjìn in her arms.
“Thank you, Jiāng-gūniáng! And thank you, Jiāng-fūrén.”
Wèi Wúxiàn had bowed politely to both of them.
“Thank you for inviting us, Yú-fūrén;” Lán Wàngjī had corrected his shīdì as he bowed, “It is a pleasure to meet you Jiāng-gūniáng.”
Yú Zǐyuān, had smiled politely, and inclined her head.
“Lán Zhàn! Look Jiāng-fūrén has eyes of a special colour … like yours!”
Lán Wàngjī had been clearly horrified by the remark.
“Yú-fūrén ;” he had corrected again.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!” Wèi Wúxiàn had blithely continued.
Lán Wàngjī had blushed beet red.
So had Yú Zǐyuān.
“Er… Thank you;” she had murmured.
“Look Lán Zhàn! The baby does too!”
Lán Wàngjī had looked at the baby.
The baby had gazed back, in the unfocused way infants do.
“She is Jiāng Xīnjìn. Would you like to hold her?”
“Er…”
Yú Zǐyuān had promptly handed her daughter to the youth, who had look startled for a moment.
Placed in his arms, the baby had cooed happily, and looked rapt into his face.
A moment later, Lán Wàngjī also seemed entranced.
Immediately after, Wèi Wúxiàn had been overrun by the twins; and the dogs; Jiāng Chéng on their heels.
He had instantly loved all five of them.
In this life, Wèi Yīng had never developed a fear of dogs; he enjoyed Jiāng Chéng’s furry friends as much as he enjoyed his younger brothers.
The Yúnmèng Shuāngjié had been, and still were, very much in his line.
✻✻✻
That first evening, during dinner, Wèi Wúxiàn had turned to Jiāng Chéng.
“Jiāng Wǎnyín you are so lucky!” he had said in all seriousness.
“Lucky?”
“You have the best family in the world! Your father and your mother are wonderful! You have the sweetest Jiějiě! She makes the most delicious soup I’ve ever had! You have three younger siblings to play with; and, three dogs too! In Cloud Recesses we are not allowed to have pets; the soup is herbal;” he had grimaced, “Neither of us has a mother; Lán Zhàn’s father is in seclusion; and, now we are juniors we are not even allowed to play with the xiāo-shīdì anymore;” he eyed Lán Wàngjī guiltily, “It’s the truth … I’m not gossiping … Only sharing information …”
Lán Wàngjī didn’t say anything.
“Jiāng Wǎnyín you are very lucky!” he had repeated, “We never have meals like this at Cloud Recesses!”
Lán Wàngjī, staring gloomily at the spicy dishes laid on the table before him, had nodded.
“Then you must come more often;” Jiāng Yànlí had sentenced, spooning Wèi Wúxiàn more soup.
✻✻✻
“He looks like his mother;” Yú Zǐyuān had remarked later; “And is just as vivacious. Although, I believe Lán discipline has helped immensely. If the both of them are as good at babysitting, and dog-sitting, as they seem, I might develop a soft spot for them!” she had chuckled.
In this life, at that moment, Yú Zǐyuān had had no qualms any longer; no shadows had lurked in her mind; she had rightly felt secure in Jiāng Fēngmián’s love.
So too had all five of their children.
There had been no awkwardness, no fear, no jealousy, no resentment.
✻✻✻
Over the next few days, Jiāng Chéng and Jiāng Yànlí had taken Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī out on the lakes, and up the river.
This time, Wèi Wúxiàn had grown up in Cloud Recesses, and his aquatic skills were barely adequate for the Jiāng-shì standard. The same was true of Lán Wàngjī, of course.
The Lán learned to swim in their cold pools; they could tread water, doggie paddle, and float; that was about it.
His own children were like fish.
Yànlí had been a proficient swimmer even in Jiāng Fēngmián’s past life; in this one, she was almost as good as her brother. As to Jiāng Chéng, he was probably the strongest swimmer around.
Lán Wàngjī had been horrified when Jiāng Yànlí had carelessly stripped off her surcoat, to reveal her bathing apparel, and had effortlessly dived off the sideboard into the emerald water.
Jiāng Chéng had been unconcerned that she had not remerged immediately after, but dismay had been written over both his friends’ faces.
Just when Wèi Wúxiàn had been about to say something, Jiāng Yànlí had shot out of the water, much farther away than either had expected, and had gone into a gorgeously executed butterfly stroke to come back to the boat.
Wèi Wúxiàn had immediately wanted to learn all the swimming strokes. He had also wanted to learn to dive, to plunge, to swim underwater, to surf the waves. And of course, to punt, steer, and sail.
Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī had both been agape at the possibilities water offered.
“Mother, you should have seen them when Ā-Lí dived in!” Jiāng Chéng had reported laughing, “I was sure one of them would say she had drowned.”
He had eyes his sister with proud complicity.
“Show-offs;” Yú Zǐyuān had answered, “Both of you; I imagine you did your fish-kick[2] bit, as well?”
Jiāng Chéng had nodded sheepishly.
“Well, I imagine you will have to teach them to swim!”
“The bathing trunks are the issue;” Jiāng Chéng had pronounced, “The Lán go naked into those pools of theirs. Their faces when they saw our bathing costumes … Wèi Wúxiàn was agog! But, for a moment, I thought Lán Wàngjī would choke!”
“I thought he might choke Wèi Wúxiàn!” giggled Jiāng Yànlí.
“They are not used to girls, that’s all;” Yú Zǐyuān had said placidly, “Did you notice how uneasy they are at dinner? They sit as far as possible from any of us. Poor kids, they’ve grown up in a monastery!”
“That’s true!” Jiāng Chéng had agreed.
“I hope they will unwind once everyone gets here;” Jiāng Yànlí had added.
✻✻✻
The Wēn siblings, with their usual escorting companions (a shīmu, Wēn Róng, and a shīxiōng, Wēn Tàng; both of whom had been to Lotus Pier before) had arrived a week later; greatly increasing Lán Wàngjī’s trials.
Wēn Qíng and Wèi Wúxiàn, recognizing a kindred spirit, had hit it off immediately.
Long and convoluted conversations, which hardly anyone could follow, began springing up between them at the most unexpected moments.
Lán Wàngjī had apparently taken Wèi Wúxiàn to task for being promiscuous; Wèi Wúxiàn had turned to Jiāng Fēngmián for support.
“We were discussing the various types of energy! How is that disturbing the female cultivators?”
“Wèi Yīng was standing too close to her;” Lán Wàngjī had answered.
“I was not! How can I have a conversation at three arm’s length??!” Wèi Wúxiàn had retorted indignantly, “It’s … ridiculous! (Your favourite word!) And, it would be impolite!”
“Lán-gōngzǐ;” Jiāng Fēngmián had said, quelling Wèi Wúxiàn with a look, “I believe the rules apply only to the Lán female disciples. Those of other shì are used to interaction. I can assure you, Wēn Qíng does not consider Wèi Wúxiàn a disturbance; she is very interested in his ideas.”
Lán Wàngjī had glared at him.
“Wèi Yīng kept touching her arm;” he had muttered.
“If you look around yourself;” Jiāng Fēngmián had pointed out, “You will notice the normal camaraderie between disciples may include touching. Everyone pals around with each other; females included. We do not consider that type of contact promiscuity.”
Lán Wàngjī had looked perplexed, but had said nothing.
✻✻✻
Sun Palace did have swimming pools; and, the Wēn-shì did teach its disciples the most common swimming strokes. The Wēn siblings (and their companions) had much improved their style, and range, in the years they had frequented Lotus Pier.
Unfortunately for Lán Wàngjī, Wēn bathing trunks were skimpier than the Jiāng ones.
However, Wēn Róng had quickly solved that problem.
“Fine!” she had smiled brightly at Lán Wàngjī, “If you prefer, we can all swim naked.”
Lán Wàngjī had glared at her, and pushed Wèi Wúxiàn into the cabin; they had reappeared, flushing with embarrassment, in the bathing trunks Jiāng Fēngmián had provided.
“Why are they so clingy?” Wèi Wúxiàn had asked uneasily.
“So they don’t balloon in water.” Wēn Tàng had answered approvingly, “Made from fish skin. Excellent to swim in.”
To make matters worse, Wēn Qíng’s favourite stroke that summer had been the undignified Frog[3].
✻✻✻
The rest of the company had joined them the week after.
Jīn Zǐxuān and Jīn Zixūn, had come with two Jīn shīmèi; Niè Huáisāng showed up with two shīmèi and a shīxiōng; the Ouyang boys, arrived with two shīmèi, who were also their cousins; Luō Qīngyáng and Qín Sù were accompanied by a shīmèi and two shīdì each. Lán Xīchén had also joined them, he had brought Sù Mǐnshàn (an external Lán disciple of his own age).
Jiāng Fēngmián had allowed his thirty young guests a few days to acclimatize to Lotus Pier, and to each other.
As far as swimming and sailing went, most of them had been no better than Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī; although, the two had improved amazingly in the few days they had been at Lotus Pier; especially Wèi Wúxiàn.
The exceptions among the newcomers had been Jīn Zǐxuān, and Jīn Zixūn, who had also often spent time at Lotus Pier; and, the Luō, who lived near the Huáng Hé[4].
✻✻✻
[1] In canon we do not know what shì Luō Qīngyáng/Miánmián belongs to. We know she is a daughter of a retainer (servant – I wonder if in Chinese it’s the same word used for Wèi Chángzé).
When Mèng Yáo is finally recognized by Jīn Guāngshàn, and adopted into the Jīn-shì, although he is the same age as Zǐxuān, he is not given the curtesy name Zǐ Yáo, but Guāng Yáo. I am taking that as indicating/or confirming that he is Jīn Guāngshàn’s son, but not of the bloodline (hence not in the line of succession).
In England there is a parallel with the surname Fitz + name (Henry Fitz Henry) or Fitzroy (lit. son of the king; illegitimate sons of many English kings were thus surnamed); in Italy, the same situation occurs with the surname Papa (Pope!). If that were the rule, Luō Qīngyáng (in my AU) would have received the Qīng character from her father, denoting her recognition and adoption.
[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swimming_stroke
[3] «Breaststroke a.k.a «"frog" stroke; as the arms and legs move somewhat like a frog swimming in the water. The stroke itself is the slowest of any competitive strokes, and is thought to be the oldest of all swimming strokes. [omissis] Swimming breaststroke at speed requires endurance and strength comparable to other strokes. The leg movement, [is] colloquially known as the "frog kick", or "whip kick".» https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breaststroke
[4] 洛河 = Luò Hé is a tributary of the Yellow River in China. It rises in the southeast flank of Mount Hua in Shaanxi province and flows east into Henan province, where it eventually joins the Yellow River at the city of Gongyi. The river's total length is 420 kilometres (260 mi). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luo_River_(Henan)
Chapter 9: Very Lán Problems.
Chapter Text
“Gūniáng, Gōngzǐ;” Jiāng Fēngmián had said to his young guests one evening at dinner, “I have a surprise for you. We have five staged night-hunts for you to participate in. The first is set for tomorrow.”
“Oh! WOW!”
“Excellent!”
“What fun!”
Staged night-hunts had long been a common way to train juniors.
Animated replicas of yāo and guài were disseminated along a circuit for the juniors to overcome. The replicas behaved exactly as the real creatures would have; except, of course, they couldn’t do any damage.
If a junior succumbed to the antagonist, they would simply find themselves caught under an immortal binding net, and be considered “dead”.
If, instead, a creature succumbed, a token would appear in its place for the juniors to collect.
Points were normally assigned for victories, and failures alike.
It was an excellent way to expose young cultivators to the creatures they would encounter in real night-hunts; a means of honing their skills, and stimulating their intelligence.
Clearly, the replicas were expensive, and only the greater shì could afford them. These had been a curtesy of Wēn Ruòhán.
✻✻✻
The next morning Jiāng Fēngmián, Wēn Ruòhán, Jīn Huánghūn, and Niè-zōngzhǔ, had positioned themselves on a peak across from the grounds staked off for the hunt.
From their vantage point they had been able to see the area quite clearly; Jiāng Fēngmián had handed out view enhancers, able to zoom in on the action.
Things had been going quite well.
The rabid rocks had been successfully overcome, with Luō Qīngyáng having garnered the most tokens because she had pulled out her water flask, and drenched twenty or so in one go; causing them to instantly pulverise.
“They are terminally allergic to water;” she had explained.
The Ouyang boys had correctly detected two maidens to be feisty flowers, and not fairies, by asking them if they liked horses.
The two had been visibly frightened.
“No!”
“They eat us!”
As horses do not eat fairies, the pair had been dispatched by the Ōuyáng with a talisman; gaining them two tokens.
The wailing willow had been easily subdued by the Lán boys (Wèi Wúxiàn among them). First, they had whipped out their instruments, and charmed it to silence. Then they had cut it down, and chopped it up with their swords, garnering the token.
When they had done, Wēn Níng had stepped up to the chips, and set a fire talisman to the wood, turning it to ashes.
To the surprise of everyone (except Wēn Qíng), another token appeared.
“Well done Ā-Ning!” Wēn Qíng had complimented her brother, “Always cleanse with fire;” she had explained to the rest; “Leave those bits around, and, ten years from now, you will have another problem.”
The muddy dragon had given Jiāng Chéng the chance to shine: he had annoyed it by treading on its tail, and goaded it by walking roughshod on it; until the beast was clumsily turning left and right, snapping, and hissing.
Jiāng Chéng had clearly intended to use Sāndú to do away with it, but Qín Sù had been quicker.
She had thrown an energy ball straight into the beast’s mouth.
Jiāng Chéng had gallantly conceded it was Qín Sù’s victory, handing her the token.
Not long after, a huge shadow had appeared in the sky, turning day to night.
“Here we go;” Jiāng Fēngmián had murmured.
“I am sure you have all observed how the Lán have positioned themselves so far;” Wēn Ruòhán had remarked, “Note what happens now.”
✻✻✻
At dinner that evening, the juniors had been evidently at odds with each other.
The Lán had eaten on their own.
Lán Xīchén had been downcast, and apologetic; Lán Wàngjī irritated and embarrassed; Sù Mǐnshàn, and Wèi Wúxiàn, dismayed, and uneasy.
The rest had obviously been ignoring them; their faces ranging from troubled, to decidedly angry.
Wēn Qíng and Jiāng Yànlí had both “died”.
So had Wēn Níng, who had gone to their rescue.
✻✻✻
When the bat queen had made her entrance, the juniors had followed the standard response they had all been taught. They had backed up, mounted their swords, fanned out, and started closing in again.
The bat queen had shrieked at them in defiance, and let loose her pups.
Cauldrons of bats (normal sized, unlike their gigantic mother) had targeted the flyers.
Half of the juniors, terrified they would end up with a bat in their hair, had fallen out of formation; the pincer tactic they had been attempting had thus gone awry.
Only Wēn Qíng and Jiāng Yànlí, who had their hair done up in tight buns, had fearlessly soared forwards.
Jiāng Chéng, and Jīn Zǐxuān, who had had most of their hair in a topknot, and were not afraid of bats, had kept their positions; but they found themselves far from each other, and from the girls.
Wēn Níng had swerved back, thrown up his hood, and swiftly regained his place.
Naturally, Niè Huáisāng had fled along with the Niè girls, but his shīxiōng had not.
He had crouched down onto his sabre, tucked in his head, and hunched his shoulders.
The Niè wore braids; he had been more concerned for his eyes, than for his hair.
The Lán had also skidded back, then they had regrouped in formation, taken out their instruments, and started to play, disorienting the smaller bats; but not their queen.
Slowly but surely they had advanced.
Because of their central position, Jiāng Chéng, Jīn Zǐxuān, and the Niè boy, had taken their cues from them; and Wēn Níng had followed suit.
By that time, the rest had manged their fright, and also regained their places.
At that point, however, Wēn Qíng, and Jiāng Yànlí, had been alone, and exposed.
The closest to them had been the Lán.
Unexpectedly, they had stopped; and hovered in place.
This had thrown everyone else; fearing some new peril, they had all frozen with them.
Jiāng Chéng had been the first to realise there was something wrong with them.
“Archers!” he had barked, pulling out his bow, and pressing forward.
Jīn Zǐxuān and Jīn Zixūn had immediately followed suit; as had others.
The bat queen had vaulted over them.
“The wings are sails!” Niè Huáisāng had yelled, sending Shànzi flying out; “Shred them! Go for the larger sections!”
Shànzi had indeed produced a slit in a wing.
The Niè shīmèi had instantly soared forwards; two Jiang shīdì had done the same.
The bat queen had shrieked in rage; she had swerved upwards to distract the hunters, and then swiftly plunged down again, aiming directly for Wēn Qíng, and Jiāng Yànlí!
Still the Lán had played, but not moved forwards.
As a volley of arrows had been let loose by the archers; Wēn Níng, roaring like a lion, had flipped his sword from under his feet into his hand, and flown to their defence.
The bat had flapped her immense wings, creating turbulence, and deflecting most of the projectiles; those that had hit, had barely scratched her. The air movement had also rebuffed the Jiāng and Niè disciples who had been trying to get close to her.
Screeching victoriously, she had slapped Wēn Níng out of her way with a wing tip, shattering his ribcage, and sending his body crashing into a tree.
“Ā-Níng!!!”
Turning her back to the creature, Wēn Qíng had sped to help her brother.
The queen had taken her out of the sky with one bite.
“Wēn Qíng!” Jiāng Yànlí had screamed, uselessly going to her friend’s aid.
“Yànlí! Nooo!” Jiāng Chéng and Jīn Zǐxuān had cried in unison.
Crunch!
Jīn Zǐxuān’s second arrow had hit into an eye, an instant too late.
✻✻✻
The next two staged night-hunts had not gone better.
Luō Qīngyáng and Qín Sù had “died” the second time; eaten by a bìfāng crane[1].
In the third, both the Niè girls, and Jīn Zixūn, had paid the price for Lán deficiency falling to a rampaging Hǒu[2].
The juniors had been in uproar.
“If they can’t respond correctly,” Jīn Zixūn had said coldly, “They should be excluded.”
“No, no; they have to learn…” Jiāng Yànlí had tried to justify them.
“This is the third time around!” Wēn Qíng had retorted; “Obviously, they are unable to!”
“Why the f*ck can’t you guys behave normally ???!!” Jiāng Chéng had asked Lán Xīchén crossly.
On the Lán side, Sù Mǐnshàn had protested.
The Mòlíng Sù were not a cultivating shì; they were landed gentry. In the last few generations, they had sired a couple of strong cultivators. They had been content to send them to the Lán-shì to train. Sù Mǐnshàn visited his mother and father every month; he had sisters, grandmothers, aunts, and cousins, and couldn’t understand the logic.
“How can we stand by and watch, just because they are female?” he had remonstrated.
“I agree;” Wèi Wúxiàn had shouldered him, “Helping someone in need cannot be considered disturbing them!”
✻✻✻
The fourth staged night-hunt had gone very differently.
The Lán had “died” this time.
All four of them.
A zhūjiān leopard[3] had not been affected by their music; it’s roaring had drowned out the sound.
The others had obviously agreed beforehand, and had retaliated, paying the Lán back in kind: none had come close enough to go to their aid.
Lán Xīchén had remonstrated this time.
“They are your rules;” Wēn Qíng had answered smoothly, “We have applied them … to you!”
“Correct;” Sù Mǐnshàn had agreed crossly.
There had been a very animated discussion.
Wēn Qíng, Luō Qīngyáng, Qín Sù, and Jīn Zixūn, had angrily declined to participate in the final night-hunt.
To make up for them, Yú Zǐyuān had hastily called in four Yú shīdì. They had arrived, only minutes before the entrance had been opened, in the full-combat uniform: hooded jackets which left only their eyes exposed; armbraces; baggy trousers; metal toe-caps on their boots; swords in hand, and double knives tucked into their belts. Evidently, they had not understood they would be participating only in a staged night-hunt.
The rest of the girls, including Jiāng Yànlí, in solidarity with their friends who had not participated, had only followed the hunt as spectators.
No one had died because the Lán, for once, had behaved normally; Lán Xīchén had deftly yanked a Yú shīdì away from the shower of poisonous needles a hateful Háozhū[4] had cast.
The four Yú had been phenomenal; garnering more tokens than anyone else that day, and amply making up for the missing, or idling, youngsters.
After exiting the hunting grounds, they had pulled off their hoods.
Wēn Qíng, Luō Qīngyáng, Qín Sù, and Jīn Zixūn, had grinned triumphantly at everyone else.
Lán Xīchén had been very perturbed to discover he had (unwittingly) saved Qín Sù.
“Lán-gōngzǐ,” Qín Sù had said soothingly, “I can assure you, I found your assistance neither disturbing, nor promiscuous!”
✻✻✻
[1] «Bifang Crane (毕方 bìfāng) (必方) – a mythical fire bird. It resembles a Red-crowned Crane, but only has a single leg. The name “Bifang” is supposedly an onomatopoeia for the sound of wood crackling in a fire. They are considered to be ominous, with sightings of Bifang Cranes heralding disastrous wild fires.»
https://immortalmountain.wordpress.com/glossary/chinese-bestiary/
[2] 犼 = Hǒu = also known as the Denglong (蹬龙). A fierce, chimeric creature which has a habit of being a guardian. https://immortalmountain.wordpress.com/glossary/chinese-bestiary/
[3] «Zhujian Leopard (诸犍 zhūjiān) – a mythical beast which resembles a leopard. It has a single eye, a long tail, and the ears of an ox. Known for its great strength and loud roaring.» https://immortalmountain.wordpress.com/glossary/chinese-bestiary/
Chapter 10: The Copyist’s Mistake.
Chapter Text
As soon as the Lán juniors had returned to Cloud Recesses, a furious Lán Qǐrén had called a meeting.
“How dare you take them night-hunting without my knowledge?!” he had reproached Jiāng Fēngmián.
“The night-hunts were staged;” Jiāng Fēngmián had answered tranquilly, “The juniors were in no danger.”
“How dare you trick them like that!”
“Don’t blame Jiāng-zōngzhǔ for the stratagem;” Wēn Ruòhán had replied coolly, “It was my idea.”
“I endorsed it;” Niè-zōngzhǔ had said evenly.
“So did I;” Jīn Huánghūn had confirmed.
“We proved our point;” Jiāng Fēngmián had shrugged.
Lán Qǐrén had scowled angrily, and tugged at his beard.
“Why haven’t you begun instructing your juniors?” Jiāng Fēngmián had asked pointedly, “It would have been the logical place to start.”
“The Lán-shì has signed the charter;” Niè-zōngzhǔ had stressed, “It’s time they also implement it.”
“But we can’t! “Lán Qǐrén had answered bitterly, “You will have to wait for Lán Xīchén to become zōngzhǔ. I am still only standing in place for Qīnghéng-jūn.”
“You have declared him as dead as a doornail!” Wēn Ruòhán had snorted.
“We have NOT!” Lán Qǐrén had answered testily; “We have exonerated him.The council members have agreed I have plenipotentiary powers until Lán Xīchén can legally succeed. I have been able to move more freely since;” he conceded, “But: I cannot modify the rules. The Wall of Discipline itself will not allow me to inscribe it.”
“That is irrelevant;” Niè-zōngzhǔ had pointed out; “You can transcribe them later! What needs to be done now, is to get the everyone to learn to work within the charter!”
He’s right;” Jīn Huánghūn had promptly agreed.
“It’s more than irrelevant;” Wēn Ruòhán had said coldly, “It is a smokescreen! The only Lán rule that specifically mentions female disciples is the seventh: Disturbing female cultivators is prohibited[1].”
“Do not commit debauchery;” Jīn Huánghūn had murmured.
“That includes males;” Niè-zōngzhǔ had retorted.
Jīn Huánghūn had looked puzzled for a moment.
“I see;” he had said, knitting his brows.
“Can you please explain what rule seven has to do with night-hunting?” Wēn Ruòhán had continued, ignoring them.
“The extension comes from the corollaries;” Lán Qǐrén had sighed vexedly, “And the commentaries. We are not allowed to be less than six feet from a female.”
“Surely that applies to the Lán female disciples!”
“No; we don’t even see them!”
“What?”
“If a disciples marries, his wife will join the shì, and he will live with her, and their children, who will live with them until they are eight. From then on, the boys can see their mother once a month. A father can always see his boys; a mother can always see the girls; but after age eight, the girls will see their father once a month.”
“What about Grandmothers? Aunts? Cousins?”
Lán Qǐrén had shaken his head.
"I never met my grandmother; nor were there aunts, or cousins; so I don’t know. I imagine those who do, see all their female relations at the same time. I have never met another disciple’s mother, wife, or daughter: much less grandmother, aunt or cousin.”
“What if a Lán woman marries?”
“That rarely happens; if so, her husband will join the shì;” Qǐrén sighed.
“Who do they marry?” Niè-zōngzhǔ had asked curiously, “I’ve never heard of anyone marrying a Lán girl!”
“The Lán (be they male or female) marry only if they chance upon their fated person;” Lán Qǐrén had replied gruffly.
“As you well know, this, uhm, social organization is peculiar to the Lán-shì alone;” Wēn Ruòhán had pointed out.
At that moment, the doors had slid open, and an obviously distressed Wèi Wúxiàn had appeared.
Behind him, an equally distressed Lán Wàngjī.
✻✻✻
“Wèi Yīng!”
Lán Wàngjī had grasped his friend’s shoulder, and had tried to pull him back.
“Leave me!” Wèi Wúxiàn had shrugged himself free, and bounded into the room, holding a scroll in his hand.
“Wèi Wúxiàn!” Lán Qǐrén had thundered, “I am in a meeting! How dare you barge in here! Go away; you shall be disciplined.”
“Is it true?” Wèi Wúxiàn had asked Lán Qǐrén, waving the scroll, “Did my parents die because of your rules? Is that why you took me in? To atone?”
Lán Qǐrén had glared at him, and compressed his lips in fury.
Wèi Wúxiàn had turned to Jiāng Fēngmián.
“Is it true Jiāng-zōngzhǔ?” the boy had asked him plaintively, “Did my parents die because the Lán wouldn’t help them?!”
“Could not;” Wēn Ruòhán had stepped in, and smoothly corrected him, “They could not help them, because of their rules. Many others died that day for the same reason.”
“Wēn-zōngzhǔ!” Lán Qǐrén had burst out.
“Because of rule seven?!” Wèi Wúxiàn had cried, “It had nothing to do with night-hunting! It’s a mistake! Lán Zhàn and I have gone over all the commentaries, as well, as the corollaries…”
“Wèi Yīng!” Lán Wàngjī had tried to stem the flow.
“You are being disrespectful to your elders!” a livid Lán Qǐrén had barked, “Get out!”
“How am I being disrespectful?” Wèi Wúxiàn had challenged, “By asking for explanations? By speaking the truth?”
Before anyone could answer him, Sù Mǐnshàn, mǒé in hand (!), had stormed into the room; a distraught Lán Xīchén on his heels.
“I’m leaving the shì;” Sù Mǐnshàn had announced dramatically.
“No!” Lán Xīchén had cried, “Please don’t say that! Wait!”
“I’m leaving too!” Wèi Wúxiàn had said firmly, going to stand beside him.
“No, you are not;” Lán Wàngjī, and Jiāng Fēngmián, had replied in unison.
Lán Wàngjī had looked at Jiāng Fēngmián, and suddenly brightened.
Attracted by the loud voices, a Lán elder had chosen that moment to walk in.
“What is going on here?” he had asked imperiously, eyeing the youths indignantly.
Complete silence had fallen.
“Ah! Qǐrén!” he had knit his brows, “I apologise! I had no idea you were here!”
The elder had blinked owlishly taking in the rest of the company.
“Zōngzhǔ;” he had bowed stiffly; “We can hear you from across the court!” he had added reproachfully; “I’ll close the doors, shall I?” he had said, sliding them shut as he had retreated shaking his head in clear disapproval.
✻✻✻
“I suggest we all calm down;” Wēn Ruòhán had said directly after, eyeing the belligerent youths, “I am happy to see all four of you are here;” he had nodded to the juniors, “You were in Yúnmèng were you not?”
The four had nodded; slightly awed that Wēn Ruòhán addressed himself directly to them. None of them had met him in person before.
“We shall all listen to what they have to say.”
“Ridiculous!” Lán Qǐrén had sputtered, “They have no right to be here!”
“Ahem!” Wēn Ruòhán had cleared his throat, “I have just given them my permission.”
Lán Qǐrén had glared at him, but given a curt nod.
“What did you find?” Jiāng Fēngmián had asked Lán Wàngjī.
Lán Wàngjī had taken a deep breath.
“Uncle may I speak?” he had asked respectfully.
“Oh, go ahead!” Lán Qǐrén had answered angrily.
“Wèi Wúxiàn and I went down to the Yuánběnshì[2];” he had said (the ancient Lán manuscripts were kept there), “We checked the texts; there is a copyist’s error.”
He had nodded to Wèi Wúxiàn.
“Rule number seven does not apply to night-hunting!” Wèi Wúxiàn had insisted, handing the scroll to Lán Qǐrén, “Please read, Shúfù! Confirm for yourself.”
Lán Qǐrén had looked over the scroll, and his face had turned the colour of raw liver.
“Unbelievable!” he had gasped, staggering slightly, “Rule seven: not applicable to night-hunts! It says it plain and clear!”
It had been evident to all of the people in the room that Lán Qǐrén had been shaken indeed by what he had read. They had exchanged worried glances.
Niè-zōngzhǔ had quickly stepped to a sideboard, and poured out some water, handing the cup to Lán Qǐrén.
“Here,” he had said kindly, “Drink this, you look like you’re about to have a qì deviation.”
“Thank you;” Lán Qǐrén had murmured, taking it, and sipping some.
“Circulate your qì;” Wēn Ruòhán had advised compassionately; only to be glared at.
✻✻✻
“Have you traced the source of the error?” Lán Qǐrén had asked Lán Wàngjī when, a few minutes later, he had gotten his footing back.
“Yes;” Lán Wàngjī had answered.
He had extracted a scroll from his sleeve, and passed it to his uncle.
“Two-hundred years ago. Rule seven: applicable to night hunts.”
“There are several older commentaries that confirm;” Lán Xīchén had added gloomily, "They were discarded because considered faulty."
“They elided the negative!” Sù Mǐnshàn had muttered angrily.
“I doubt that;” Wēn Ruòhán had said firmly, “The Lán revere their scriptures. None would willingly alter them. It is a copying mistake. Unfortunately, very common when dealing with ancient texts.”
“Two-hundred years of copying a mistake?” Sù Mǐnshàn had expostulated angrily.
Lán Qǐrén had frowned at him.
"An ancient scroll is too delicate to be handled constantly;" said Wēn Ruòhán, "Typically, scribes will copy from a copy; and, they will unwittingly copy the mistake as well. "
“Thank you, Xiāndū;” Lán Qǐrén had said in obvious relief at Wēn Ruòhán's mitigating explanation.
“You are welcome;” Wēn Ruòhán had returned humorously; “Well done!” he had complimented the boys, “I am impressed by your good work.”
The boys had blushed in pleasure at the compliment.
“I think I need a drink;” Jīn Huánghūn had remarked at that point.
“A break! That’s an idea!” Wēn Ruòhán had agreed, “This meeting is adjourned! Lán Qǐrén can sort things out; inform the council; he will let us know.”
Lán Qǐrén had nodded.
“Yes, thank you, Wēn-zōngzhǔ; er … Xiāndū; I appreciate that;” Lán Qǐrén had grudgingly inclined his head, “I will have to put the documentation together, and inform the council, as you say;” he had continued; “But I can assure you all the error will be corrected;” he had finished grimly.
“Excellent!” Wēn Ruòhán had beamed, “Then we will leave you to it.”
“Cǎiyī?” Jiāng Fēngmián had suggested.
“Sounds good;” Niè-zōngzhǔ had answered.
✻✻✻
Jiāng Fēngmián, Wēn Ruòhán, Jīn Huánghūn, and Niè-zōngzhǔ had gone to Cǎiyī, found a wine shop which had a terrace projecting out over the water, and had sat down to eat, drink, and discuss what had come up.
“I was certain there had to be a mistake somewhere!” Wēn Ruòhán had said smugly, “It seems obvious to me, rule seven must originally have applied to the Lán women; hence, it must date to before they opted for complete separation.”
“Opted?”
“That, they did.”
“Do we think this will finally change things?” Jīn Huánghūn had asked gloomily.
“I do;” Jiāng Fēngmián had said, “The juniors were very perplexed by the outcomes of the staged hunts. Sù Mǐnshàn and Wèi Wúxiàn were both belligerent today. I think we can count on Lán Xīchén, and Lán Wàngjī, to, uhm, back them up.”
Wēn Ruòhán had looked humorously at him.
“That they will; Jiāng-zōngzhǔ!” he had quipped.
Jīn Huánghūn had looked lost.
“They are young, and have no say yet;” Wēn Ruòhán had added, “Lán Xīchén soon will. Moreover, Lán Qǐrén is too honest to persevere in error.”
“Yes, I agree;” Ni-zōngzhǔ had said, “Lán Xīchén looks as pretty as a picture; my son, however, tells me he can be as stubborn as a mule.”
✻✻✻
A few days later Jiāng Fēngmián had gone back to Cloud Recesses, and had met with Wèi Wúxiàn.
The boy had put two and two together, and come to the correct conclusion. However, he had been deeply wounded by his discovery.
“It is as Wēn Ruòhán has told you;” Jiāng Fēngmián had reassured him, “And as you have experienced yourself. The Lán couldn’t because of their rules. I almost died myself once because of them.”
Wèi Wúxiàn had nodded uneasily.
“Isn’t that like being brainwashed?” he had asked, “I don’t want to be brainwashed…”
“In fact, you have not been!” Jiāng Fēngmián had pointed out, “If they really did brainwashing, you, and your friends, would not even have been aware.”
“I get the feeling Shúfù doesn’t like my mother…” Wèi Wúxiàn had said dejectedly, “He mentions her only when he tells me off: ‘You are just like your mother’, he will say disapprovingly.”
Jiāng Fēngmián had sighed.
“Lán Qǐrén had an, er… a close encounter with your mother, which he didn’t know how to handle;” he had admitted vaguely.
“Did you know her, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ?”
“I did;” he had smiled; “You look very much like her. I knew your father too. They were good people. Both of them.”
“Is it true?” Wèi Wúxiàn had whispered, looking suddenly terrified, “Was my father your best friend? Was my mother your girlfriend?”
“No;” Jiāng Fēngmián had said firmly, “It is false. It is true that Wèi Chángzé was a Jiāng disciple. He was a good friend; your mother was never my girlfriend. She loved your father only.”
“If I leave the Lán-shì may I join the Jiāng-shì?”
“Do you want to leave Cloud Recesses? I thought you were happy here.”
“I am. Or, rather, I was … Until I found out… If they don’t change, I don’t want to stay.”
“Things will change;” Jiāng Fēngmián had reassured him.
✻✻✻
Things had changed.
Lán Qǐrén had held a council meeting.
The copyist’s error had been exposed, and corrected.
The Xuánmén Shìjiā Charter had, finally, become effective; the results had been visible at the next major night-hunt.
Many Lán disciples had had living mothers, wives, and daughters; they had long thought rule seven should not apply to night-hunting.
They had had no idea where, or when, their women night-hunted; but they had been thankful others could (and probably did) go to their aid if necessary. They had all wanted to be able to do the same for whoever.
✻✻✻
Unexpectedly, Niè-zōngzhǔ had pressed Jiāng Fēngmián to hold swimming and sailing courses every summer. Jīn Huánghūn had immediately supported him; (badgered by Wèi Wúxiàn and Lán Wàngjī) even Lán Qǐrén had agreed. Yúnmèng Summers became rather famous.
Meanwhile, Niè-zōngzhǔ canvassed for his hands-on training programme. After some discussion, to allow for a greater range of attendance, and to cut down on expenses and organization costs, it was agreed it should take place every four years.
The first “Junior Action Convention” had taken place in Qīnghé.
The second, to involve the smaller shì, had been hosted by the Qín in Làoling.
The third should have been held in Qíshān; but, it had been moved to Bālíng because the Wēn-shì had been in mourning for Wēn Cháo’s death.
✻✻✻
[1] In EXR CH. 114, in the same scene with the female cultivator, Lán Wàngjī quotes:
“The seventh rule on the Discipline Wall of Cloud Recesses is: Disturbing female cultivators is prohibited;" disturbing is 惊扰 = Jīngrǎo = to disturb; startle; alarm; agitate.
[2] 原本 = Yuánběn =, original manuscript, master copy, original; 室 = shì = room
Chapter 11: Happy Beginnings.
Chapter Text
The bridal cortege finally appeared at the opening of the distance shortening array Wēn Ruòhán had ordered set up on the road to Lotus Pier.
Jiāng Chéng heaved an audible sigh of relief, and his brow magically smoothed out.
Jiāng Fēngmián found he had also been holding his breath.
Yú Zǐyuān exchanged swift smiles with her mother; Jiāng Yànlí stood straighter.
The twins started straining against their minders, jostling for a better view.
A moment later, the fight for the bride had begun.
Jiāng Chéng gave the attackers short thrift.
After disarming a couple of them with his special technique, and dodging a few others with superb qīnggōng, he let loose Zǐdiàn. The lightning bolt, followed by a clap of thunder, and a wave of energy, had cleared his path straight to Wēn Qing.
To everyone’s surprise, notwithstanding the impossible dress, and the colossal phoenix crown on her head, the bride stepped nimbly on his sword, and the couple flew into Lotus Pier amidst the general hooting and clapping.
They dutifully made their bows in the ancestral hall.
Although everyone already knew her, in obeisance to the traditions Wēn Ruòhán liked so much, the bride was formally introduced to the Jiāng-shì.
Then everyone proceeded to the banqueting hall.
Along the way, they were subjected to a veritable storm of flower petals that seemed to fall directly from the sky. The children started shrieking in delight, trying to catch them.
“I should ask the Wēn-shì to sweep the walks tomorrow!” Jiāng Fēngmián murmured vexedly as he looked at the debris settling on the ground.
“No need;” Yú Zǐyuān replied humorously, “Wēn Qíng was so worried someone would slip, and break a leg on them, she had Wēn Ruòhán make an illusion. Look: they are already vanishing.”
The day proceeded without a hitch; seamlessly flowing from one part to the next.
The banquet (ten courses, plus sides); the speeches (twenty!); the toasts (number unknown); the gate crashers (three hundred!); the fireworks (spectacular!).
The happy couple had managed a disappearing act while everyone’s noses were pointing at the sky.
✻✻✻
It was several hours after that, before Jiāng Fēngmián and Yú Zǐyuān had make it back to their rooms.
Snatches of drunken song could still be heard from the courts. Many guests would be revelling till dawn.
“I think I’m going to make love to you;” Jiāng Fēngmián said huskily, as he watched Yú Zǐyuān slip out of her surcoat.
“I certainly hope so!” she answered, eyes twinkling warmly, “It’s auspiciouson a wedding night.”
✻✻✻
Later, lying in each other’s arms, warm and hazy from with the afterglow, Jiāng Fēngmián found himself staring at the comb still in her hair.
“Why does the Yú snake bite its tail?” he asked idly.
Yú Zǐyuān looked pensive; she reached for the comb, and smiled bemusedly, as she traced the snake with a finger.
“She is said to be: ‘Like the stem of a young lotus;” Yú Zǐyuān quoted softly, “Like a snake, coiled round upon herself, she holds her tail in her mouth;[1] I’d forgotten about that.”
“She?”
“The snake; or the lotus stem; they are the same.”
“But why does she bite her tail?”
“In the ancient mystic scriptures, the snake is said to be a powerful form of divine feminine energy located at the base of the spine; the Yú are taught to cultivate it;”[2] murmured Yú Zǐyuān, “It also symbolises eternal return .”
“Eternal return? You mean reincarnation?”
“That part is more complex; some sources say it refers to the cycle of life, death, and reincarnation; the wheel of existence: samsara. Other sources say it refers to only a few, chosen people, who have the possibility to return after their death. Not as ghosts. This ‘return’ is not reincarnation in the usual sense. It is said they can return to their own life.”[3]
“To their life?” asked Jiāng Fēngmián, suddenly alert, “What does that mean?”
“The ones who return, always return as themselves.”
“Is it true?”
Yú Zǐyuān, chuckled, and shrugged.
“I can personally attest the cultivation part works wonderfully;” she replied, “Witness Zǐdiàn. The rest is mystical scriptures. No one knows what they really mean.”
“My father didn’t have the snake made;” said Jiāng Fēngmián slowly, “He found it in the treasure room here at Lotus Pier. It belonged to one of your ancestors who, centuries ago, had married a Jiāng.”
“Really?” Yú Zǐyuān sat up, and inspected the comb closely, turning it around to view the back. “Oh I see! It is whole. The petals only overlap it on the front. How clever of the jeweller! I never noticed before.”
She handed him the comb, and got up; he watched her go to her dressing room. She was beautiful, graceful; even naked she was elegant.
He looked at the object in his hand knitting his brow. The lotus stem … the snake…
“Look,” she said, handing him a belt fob.
It was a snake of green jade with amethyst eyes. The work was exquisite. The scales carved to look as if they were moving. The snake bit its tail.
“It’s the Yú token;” said Yú Zǐyuān, “We all get one when we turn fifteen. My mother had mine made with amethyst eyes. Unless I go to Méishān, I rarely wear it.”
“I need to tell you something;” said Jiāng Fēngmián suddenly, “You may not believe me; and you may find it strange; but, I assure you, I know it’s the truth.”
“I’m listening;” she smiled, getting back into bed, and snuggling up to him.
✻✻✻
“You remember when Ā-Chéng gave me that?”
He pointed to the drawing of Lotus Pier Jiāng Chéng had made almost fourteen years before.
Jiāng Fēngmián had had it framed.
He had kept it in his office until after Jiāng Xīnjìn had been born, when Yú Zǐyuān had redecorated, turning their old, individual, rooms into one, big, sunny, new apartment; with a huge private terrace on the water.
When they had moved in, he had hung it on the wall across from the bed.
“I certainly do;” she said softly, “How could I not? That was the day you turned the page, and started a new life…”
“It is;” Jiāng Fēngmián agreed, “I started this life.”
“Hmmm; I’m glad you did.”
“I died the last time around.”
“You died?”
“Yes. You did too. In that life, we never even made it to today. None of us made it to today.”
“What?”
“In that life, we all died five years ago. We never saw Ā-Lí get married; Ā-Chéng get married; we never met Jīn Ling. We never had the twins, and Xīnjìn.”
He did not tell her the whole of it.
He told her Wēn Ruòhán had gone mad; that Cloud Recesses had been attacked; that Qīnghéng-jūn had died; he told her of the attack on Lotus Pier.
He did not mention Wèi Wúxiàn at all.
“Fēngmián, my love, it must have been a dream!” cried Yú Zǐyuān holding him tight; “A nightmare… Triggered by Wèi Chángzé’s and Cángsè Sànrén’s deaths!”
“No;” said Jiāng Fēngmián firmly, as he held her close, “It was not a dream. I sometimes wonder if this is. That is how, that day, I already knew what you had come to tell me. I had been there before.”
He told her the rest; how, he had been a ghost (or whatever he'd been); and how he had not been able to do anything for Jiāng Chéng when the Wēn had caught him.
Again, he did not mention Wèi Wúxiàn.
“I had this comb in my breast pocket when I died;” he said, “I wanted to give it to you; but I never found the way to. I ended up carrying it around. The last thing I felt was the comb biting into me;” he smiled ruefully, “I remember thinking you would have stabbed me with it if you could have.”
“In those circ*mstances, I certainly would have!” she huffed.
“I felt it again;” said Jiāng Fēngmián, “When I was a ghost (or, whatever I was). Then, I don’t know what happened…”
He recounted what he remembered of his experience.
“Finally, I was sucked somewhere. I woke up here, in this life.”
“How can you be sure it is true?” she asked knitting her beautiful brows.
“Because of the scars on my breast;” he answered.
“What scars?”
“They are tiny. Like pinpoints …” he showed her; “They match the snake perfectly. See?” He demonstrated, placing the comb next to the marks. “The emeralds cut into me when I died."
“I see…” said Yú Zǐyuān, “They are so small, I never noticed them...”
“When I found myself back here, I didn’t have the comb on me;" he continued, "When you came into the office I had been looking for it; remember? I had found it, and I gave it to you.”
She nodded.
“But, that night, I discovered I had the scar.”
After a moment, her brow smoothed; her eyes twinkled; she kissed the marks lightly.
“Then I have to say: thank you!” she said smiling, “For saving us; and for this second life you have given us.”
“You don’t believe me;” he asserted gloomily.
“Hmm;” she shrugged, “I believe you believe it. And, I believe it may even be possible.
You describe the awakening of the energy correctly.
I do not remember dying; I do not remember that life.
It is certainly true that, in this life, from that day, you changed dramatically.
I would never have believed it possible.
Your new behaviour has made a enormous difference to everyone in the shì.
Especially to me; to Ā-Lí; and to Ā-Chéng.
You have been a good father to them since then; and, always, to the twins, and to Xīnjìn.
You have been a good leader for the shì, and for your disciples.
And, the new you has certainly also made a huge difference to the whole Xuánmén Shìjiā.
More I cannot say. Except - I love you.”
“I never even kissed you in my first life!” said Jiāng Fēngmián, rolling her over.
“Then you should make up for it in this one;” she admonished.
✻✻✻
[1] According to the medieval Yoga-kundalini Upanishad: "The divine power, Kundalini, shines like the stem of a young lotus; like a snake, coiled round upon herself she holds her tail in her mouth and lies resting half asleep as the base of the body" (1.82).» https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ouroboros
[2] « Ouroboros: is an ancient symbol depicting a serpent or dragon eating its own tail.
The term derives from Ancient Greek οὐροβόρος,[6] from οὐρά 'tail' plus the suffix -βορός '-eating'.
The ouroboros is often interpreted as a symbol for eternal cyclic renewal or a cycle of life, death and rebirth; the snake's skin-sloughing symbolises the transmigration of souls.
In the Aitareya Brahmana, a Vedic text of the early 1st millennium BCE, the nature of the Vedic rituals is compared to "a snake biting its own tail."
Ouroboros symbolism has been used to describe the Kundalini.
[3] I am using ouroboros as defined by Claire North (aka Catherine Webb) in “The First Fifteen Lives of Henry August” (2014).
Chapter 12: I Told You So!
Chapter Text
Three days after Jiāng Chéng’s wedding, they all went to Sun Palace for the traditional banquet at the bride’s ancestral home.
After the formal lunch, Wēn Ruòhán insisted Jiāng Fēngmián take a stroll in the gardens with him.
“Come along, my friend;” he had said, linking arms with Jiāng Fēngmián, “Let’s leave the ladies to it.”
Wēn Qíng had about two-hundred-and-fifty close relations; Jiāng Fēngmián could only be grateful of the excuse offered.
“I have to say, I’m relieved it all went off without a hitch!” Wēn Ruòhán said humorously, “Wēn Qíng was on tenterhooks.”
“So was Ā-Chéng;” Jiāng Fēngmián chuckled, “And, truth told, so was I!”
“We all were! You’ve taken a load off my mind, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ. I don’t know how you’ll deal with her, but Wēn Qìng is a Lotus Pier problem from now on!”
“Come now, she’s delightful!” laughed Jiāng Fēngmián, “You paint her too brown. I wager you are the one who will miss her most.”
“I will;” Wēn Ruòhán admitted ruefully, “And her brother too; I am very attached to them. After Ā-Cháo’s death, they have been a blessing to me. Although I shouldn’t say this, the real blessing might have been Ā-Cháo’s death;” he added sadly, “He was becoming unmanageable.”
Jiāng Fēngmián nodded.
“I can understand;” he said simply.
“Remember the day I offered Wēn Qíng to you?” asked Wēn Ruòhán pensively, “You had come for the dogs. Sometimes, I think if I hadn’t met you that day, I might have lost my mind. I would have gone crazy; and not even noticed.”
Jiāng Fēngmián was taken aback.
“Is that what I did the last time?” asked Wēn Ruòhán curiously, “No, don’t answer. It doesn’t matter. I’m quite sure it’s what I would have done, if it hadn’t been for you.”
To Jiāng Fēngmián’s relief, Wēn Ruòhán fell silent, and walked for a bit.
“My wife died in such a senseless fashion;” Wēn Ruòhán suddenly took up again, “We cultivate immortality to die of a wasp sting?”
He turned to Jiāng Fēngmián looking outraged.
“After that happened,” he explained vexedly, “I was devastated from her loss. I felt cheated; deprived; deceived. Moreover, I had been trying for many years to get everyone to work together; I had gotten nowhere. I also felt isolated; unheeded; disrespected. I had become resentful.”
Jiāng Fēngmián said nothing; he had never overcome his unease when dealing with Wēn Ruòhán.
“A few days before you came to Sun Palace, I was gifted a sabre;” Wēn Ruòhán continued, “When I met with you, Niè-zōngzhǔ had just told me what a wonderful piece it is. His appreciation had made me happy. Imagine how needy I was!”
Jiāng Fēngmián arched his brows; needy was not a word that came to mind when he thought of Wēn Ruòhán.
“Then you came along enquiring about the dogs for your son. I thought that was so sweet of you; so caring! I was delighted I could help you make your son feel better;” Wēn Ruòhán smiled, “Talking to you, I realised suddenly that my gloom had lifted! And I ended up offering Wēn Qíng to you.”
“A happy inspiration?” suggested Jiāng Fēngmián.
“Yes;” said Wēn Ruòhán, “I would say ominous. I never had a daughter. I love her as if she were mine. I had thought I would never be able to part with her, but I have never regretted that choice…”
Wēn Ruòhán smiled again.
“I see your discomfort;” he said humorously, “I’ll make it brief; I am trying to thank you, Jiāng Fēngmián. In the last thirteen years, you have been an excellent associate; a perceptive councillor; a loyal ally. I am quite certain you have changed my life for the better. I consider it a privilege to call myself your friend.”
“Thank you, Xiāndū;” Jiāng Fēngmián bowed formally.
“Come now! You must call me by name! We are in-laws now!”
At that moment, Wēn Ruòhán stopped short, and knit his brow.
✻✻✻
A figure had appeared farther down along the walk. Not a Wēn disciple,
In all the times Jiāng Fēngmián had walked with Wēn Ruòhán in the gardens, they had never met anyone.
He too stopped short, feeling suddenly perturbed.
Wēn Ruòhán was gazing piercingly at the person who walked calmly towards them.
“Ah!” Wēn Ruòhán said suddenly, as if in recognition, “I was hoping this might happen.”
He relaxed visibly, smiled pleasantly, and waited.
After a few moments the woman, because it was now clear she was a woman, also stopped before them. The robes she was wearing were vaguely Jīn; but, slightly off, Jiāng Fēngmián noticed; he too relaxed.
“Xiāndū; Jiāng-zōngzhǔ;” she bowed formally, “Please forgive this person for interrupting, and intruding unannounced.”
“You are a Lán Jiānhùrén[1], I imagine;” Wēn Ruòhán murmured, as both of them bowed formally back.
The woman smiled sweetly.
“Yes;” she agreed pleasantly, “I’m here to thank you on behalf of my side of the shì. We are grateful for your effort. We believe the Charter is a good thing; it will bear great fruits in the future. We are pleased they have managed to correct the erroneous gloss.”
Wēn Ruòhán nodded.
“We are also grateful for your silence concerning us.”
“You’re not segregated are you?” blurted out Jiāng Fēngmián.
“No;” the woman laughed, “We are not, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ. Rather, it is we who segregate the men.”
“Given the ones I’ve met;” said Wēn Ruòhán chuckling with her, “I think it’s an excellent idea!”
Jiāng Fēngmián gaped at them.
✻✻✻
“They are the sons of Lán Ān;” she shrugged deprecatingly, “We consider ourselves the daughters of Mìng Dìng (better known as Mìngdìng Zhīrén because of Lán Ān’s song).
He was a monk; he played the gǔqín. Until the day he met her, and left the monastery, he had composed chants.
She was a loose cultivator; it was she who cultivated music, song, and dance.
We have always been as strong minded, and as independent, as Lán Yì was. We do not waste our time splitting hairs;” she added disdainfully, “The Wall of Discipline is their doing; we do not adhere to that sort of madness.”
“I see…” said Jiāng Fēngmián hesitantly.
“No, you don’t;” she said calmly, “The ascetic types, that are the Lán-shì staple, are the most troublesome men! Who knows why, they wish for celibacy; so they preach chastity; believe me: they cannot at all practice it!” she rolled her eyes, “They wouldn’t need those silly rules else! As to the mǒé: it would be magic indeed, if that piece of ribbon wrapped around their foreheads were able to suppress their instincts!”
“I told you so!” said Wēn Ruòhán triumphantly.
“You don’t wear the mǒé?”
“When we are at home; and wear our shì robes, we do wear it. We consider it an ornament, however, like a belt fob. We do not ascribe mystic properties to it.”
“That’s a relief to hear;” murmured Wēn Ruòhán appreciatively.
“After Lán Yì’s death, ” she continued, “There was a lot of internal dissent. Much of it was aimed against us: we are the ones who invent assassination chords. At that time, they did try to segregate us. Finally, the Lán women decided to humour them. We gave them what they wanted; and we got what we wanted.”
“Meaning?”
“Cloud Recesses was divided into two sections; and the two sexes have lived happily apart from each other since then.;” she had retorted, “We have our own rules. Fifteen of them! A few commentaries; some corollaries. Nothing much really; the basics. One of them is your motto, Jiāng-zōngzhǔ: Do what is known cannot be done.”
“How so?” he asked in amazement.
“Mìng Dìng thought Jiāng Chǐ had a point. Later, Lán Yì agreed with her. The first did snare Lán Ān, and convince him to establish Cloud Recesses…”
“Pretty close to impossible, from what I understand;” agreed Wēn Ruòhán pleasantly.
“The second invented the original assassination chord; I imagine they both knew what Jiāng Chǐ was talking about. It became one of our rules.”
“You have your own ‘Cloud Recesses’; so to speak?”
“We do;” she assured them, “We have our own premises with everything we need. Housing; food halls; training courts; study rooms; a vast library; several laboratories. We have our own curriculum; our own routines; our own scriptures; we even have our own pools, but: ours are hot!”
“How do you marry?” asked Jiāng Fēngmián puzzled.
“We don’t. That’s the whole point!”
“What?”
“Well, some of us do; if they wish to; but most of us don’t. Few men are willing to join the Lán-shì; although, it has happened. Sometimes, one of us will leave Cloud Recesses, and join her husband’s shì. The husband will believe the wife to be a loose cultivator. She must never reveal she is a Lán.”
“And the rest?”
“The rest do as they please;” she replied coolly, “Love; and do what you will is our primary rule. It was Lán Ān’s. Take a lover, or not; have children, or not. It is up to us. If we do have children, we will send the boys over to the men at age eight; our sons are all of the bloodline; by default. The girls grow with us. Naturally, the wives of the Lán men live most of their lives with us too; and their daughters. Sometimes, we adopt very young girls who are orphans. Which brings me to my second point.”
✻✻✻
The woman turned to Jiāng Fēngmián, and bowed again.
“Thank you, Jiang-zōngzhǔ,” she said, “For forcing Lán Qǐrén to take in Wèi Wúxiàn. We knew Cángsè Sànrén; while she was in Cloud Recesses, she stayed with us of course. We considered her a friend. Because Wèi Wúxiàn is male, we could not help him directly. Nor would the men have listened to us;” she added darkly.
“No need to thank me;” said Jiāng Fēngmián, “It was in the call of duty.”
“That was your doing?!” Wēn Ruòhán asked to him in amazement, “I should have known! Whenever would the Lán have done the right thing on their own!”
“Why do you not teach?” Jiāng Fēngmián asked curiously; also to change the focus.
“Like Cángsè Sànrén, we are not interested in teaching;” she smiled, “We are interested in experimenting; inventing; creating. We let the men teach. It gives them something to do; and keeps them out of our hair.”
“Wèi Wúxiàn has quite a talent for such things;” Jiāng Fēngmián pointed out.
“He does;” the woman agreed, “We are very pleased with his spirit attracting flags, and his compass of evil.”
“Then;” said Wēn Ruòhán pensively, “I presume immortal binding nets are due to Lán female ingenuity.”
“They are;” she confirmed, “That was one of the issues back then. When Lán Yì invented the assassination chord the men did not agree with her; and, they did not want the technique to become common knowledge.”
Both Jiāng Fēngmián and Wēn Ruòhán could sympathise.
“While there is general agreement that something so dangerous is better restricted,” she continued, “In the case of simple inventions, spells, or techniques, which can be of general use, we firmly believe the knowledge should be out there.”
“No ivory tower?” asked Wēn Ruòhán.
“No ivory tower.”
She smiled sweetly again.
“These are for you;” she handed them a plain sandalwood box each, “We have seen we can count on your discretion, and your help. If, in the future, you happen to need us, in the box are instant messages. If you set one off, one of us will contact you.”
They nodded.
“Thank you both again;” she repeated, “Xiāndū; Jiāng-zōngzhǔ.”
She bowed formally, snapped her fingers; and, a moment later, she was gone.
She had used a transportation talisman.
“Could you recognize her if you saw her again?” asked Wēn Ruòhán.
“No;” said Jiāng Fēngmián quite truthfully.
“I told you so!” said Wēn Ruòhán beaming in pleasure.
