Year 658 of the Stable Era,
Nineteenth day of the tenth month
Just after noon
Xia Bao set Chao Ren down in a chair at Li Feng’s Happy Dumpling House as Min Huan placed an order for three zhenglongs of beef and one of crab. Bao added another two of pork and scallion dumplings to it, and the tan-uniformed server bowed as he took their lacquered tokens before quickly disappearing into the back of the restaurant.
It was a cozy little place. About three tables wide and four tables deep with pale oak walls, its low ceiling allowing the smell of dumplings—both steamed and fried—to gently waft through uninterrupted. It tickled the appetites of its patrons while luring more in from the street. It was mostly full, with only two other tables unoccupied, the rest crowded by a mix of disciples and mortal workers.
Ren seemed to be a bit dazed, possibly concussed from that blow he took on the chin. As Huan watched for their food to arrive, he checked on his friend.
“Hey, Chao Ren? Can y’ hear me?” He snapped his fingers in front of Ren’s face, watching his eyes to see how well he tracked the motion.
“Urgh,” Ren moaned, shaking his head. He looked like he had been kicked by an ox, but he wasn’t too badly off if he was able to follow Bao’s fingers after just a pair of focusing blinks.
“Can you give me a bit more than that?” Bao asked. With head injuries it was always important to make sure that nothing was too rattled. Slurred speech was a sure sign of something wrong, and most importantly, something that would require someone with some skill to treat. It would be a shame if Chao Ren was forced to return to the infirmary so soon after his discharge. He’d spent almost a week of their break there already.
“Ah, fine, what do you want me to say?” Ren replied, groaning a bit more as he massaged his temples. “And can you stop it with all the snapping? It’s really not helping my head at all.”
“Ah, that’s what I was looking for,” Bao said with a grin, “just wanted to make sure that your noggin didn’t get too scrambled. Now, what made you decide to go do something as foolish as challenging that Shou Chengtai fellow to a duel? Everyone knows that he’s been looking to pick a fight all week.”
“I didn’t challenge him, he challenged me,” Ren said, feeling his chest. From the way he flinched, it looked like it was more than a bit bruised, but it would be hard to tell without a good look. And a crowded restaurant was hardly the place for that.
As he tried to gauge the exact scope of his injuries, the waiter placed a six-high stack of bamboo steamers on the table. They added a smaller stack of sauce dishes and a pair of sauce containers, before thanking them for their patronage with another bow. Min immediately reached for his, going for the containers with the characters for beef and shrimp seared on their sides. He slid the remainder over to Bao, who in turn passed one to Ren.
“Here,” he said, handing him a sauce-dish, “you said that you liked pork and scallion dumplings, right?”
“Thank you Seni-Bao, it seems that once again I’m in your debt for the food. I’m grateful that you would remember something as inconsequential as my favorite type,” Ren said, surprised at suddenness of the proffered dumplings. He actually preferred them fried, as the crunch was his favorite part. But it seemed that this place specialized in steaming, and it would be rude to refuse such a thoughtful gift for such in minor detail.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Bao replied, pouring a liberal draft of soy sauce onto his dish before offering the container to Ren. He politely declined, instead reaching for the other. After a quick sniff to confirm its contents, he delicately poured a drop of the red vinegar onto his sauce-dish, where he tasted it with a chopstick to test its flavor. He seemed to like it, as he did a second pour with far more enthusiasm.
“So,” Bao continued, after giving Ren a chance to enjoy the first of his dumplings, “why did you get involved with someone like Shou Chengtai?”
“I’d wager that he doesn’t even know who he is,” Han interjected, taking a break from spinning his fan to join the conversation. “Of all the places in the sect, I can’t imagine that the medical pavilion is a hotbed for the latest news and rumors.”
Ren nodded at that, politely keeping his mouth closed as he savored his food.
“Aiya,” Bao sighed, taking his first dumpling plain to better appreciate the flavor. “You really couldn’t have picked a worse opponent. Shou Chengtai’s been picking fights every chance he’s gotten since the exam ended. I think he’s mad that his family for sending him off to join a sect in Karano instead of a cushy sect back in Lutai, but it could also be a misplaced sense of cultivator’s pride.”
“I told you, he picked the fight with me,” Ren protested, “he said that he wanted me to trade pointers with him, and after I refused, he just attacked me.”
“Is that exactly what you said?” Han asked, leaning in with interest. “Because if you refused his request, his actions would be in clear violation of the sect’s rules.”
“Well, I think I said that I would, but that I didn’t think I could offer him any insights, and that I was still recovering from injuries,” Ren replied, after a moment of recollection. “After that, one of his companions mentioned my name, and he just attacked me. Saying that ‘it looks like I would be able to teach him something after all’ or something to that effect.”
“Ah, that’s really your own fault then,” Han said, letting out a disappointed sigh, “you were just asking for it at that point.” When Bao and Ren looked at him in confusion, he shook out his fan as he explained himself.
“When challenged to a duel, you have to be clear in your refusal. A noncommittal response might be good for saving face, but you have to be careful about your wording. You said that you would accept his challenge if you had something to offer. That’s not a refusal; it’s a conditional agreement. You essentially gave him the ability to choose whether or not you’d fight him, which is a foolish decision. A better response would have been that you would have fought him if you weren’t injured. The way that you put it, you simply stated that you were recovering from an injury as a fact, which only matters in the context of a courteous conversation.”
“If your opponent is already ignoring courtesy, attempting to plead to common decency is a waste of breath. With a prideful ass like him, I would have insulted his honor. Implying that he’s so pathetic as to challenge an injured opponent would have turned the tables on him quite nicely. It would make him appear shameless if he wanted to continue to pursue the challenge, and it would allow you to save face by appearing righteous rather than cowardly. For someone who clearly cares so much about his reputation, I’d imagine that he would sooner cough up blood than willingly stain his own family’s name in front of an audience.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Lee Han mentally sighed as the rest of the table, save Min Huan (who was content with enjoying his meal), looked at him with dazed expressions. He was starting to notice that it was a trend whenever he explained things. Was it something about his delivery? If he was starting to bore people, perhaps he should start offering simpler advice.
“So, what did Shou Chengtai end up tossing at Ren at the end there?” Bao eventually asked.
“Blood and Flesh Recovery Pill,” Huan replied, taking a break from his meal to toss the wooden box onto the table. He was already on his last steamer of dumplings.
“Interesting,” Lee Han said, inspecting the container, “for someone so proud of the Northern Continent’s superiority, it’s surprising that he’s tossing around southern medicine.”
“How can you tell?” Bao asked. Aside from the name, nothing about the design—a snake encircling both the fancy characters and a flowering tree—stuck out to him.
“The crest’s got its snake facing left, rather than right,” Huan replied, speaking around a mouth full of dumpling as he pointed at the animal circling the characters inlaid into the box. “The Golden Serpent Pill Pavillion’s had branches on both continents for a few centuries now, so they use different markings to help them keep track of where each pill comes from. Helps with counterfeits too. The type and number of flowers on the tree indicate which branch, and creator’s name is incorporated into the bark pattern of the knot on its trunk.” He pointed to each part of the design with his chopsticks as he explained them. “Given the three hydrangeas, this one is from Jade Leaf City.”
“Well spoken,” Lee Han congratulated. “I’m impressed to meet someone else so well-versed in pill markings.”
“I would be a poor son if I weren’t!” Huan laughed. “My father made sure that I knew how to tell the differences between all of our goods.”
“Ah, so you’re a member of that Min family,” Lee Han replied, eyes lighting up as his interest was piqued. “When Bao said that you were from Port Fin, he didn’t mention that your Min family was the illustrious founders of the Crimson Sail Merchants.”
“Are there so many Min families in Port Fin that it’s hard to keep track?” Ren asked. His knowledge of the northern shores had always been a bit rusty, which meant that whatever he had known about the important clans in the area was completely corroded by now.
“Well, yes and no,” Bao explained, “the Min Clan was one of the bigger clans that responsible for carving the bones and protecting the settlements back in the day. Them, the Li Clan, and my Xia Clan formed the Three Great Protectors of the city. But as the sea beasts were pushed back and the city expanded, a branch of the Min family broke off to pursue trade after an inheritance struggle.”
“Ah yeah, it was over the Thunderous Sea Splitting Bone Harpoon,” Huan said. “Apparently my great-great-great-granduncle got the better of my great-great-great-grandpa by convincing the council of elders to bestow it to him after the patriarch died during a heavenly tribulation. My ancestor said that if they liked their bribes so much, he’d force feed them so many that they’d have to cough up the spear to him. He stormed out on the spot to start the Crimson Sails, taking the tablecloth from the banquet hall, half the drinkware, and a single old junk as his inheritance.”
“And did he get the harpoon?” Ren asked curiously.
“Nope! Apparently great-great-great-granduncle Cheng got eaten by a serpent or an octopus or some other sea beastie during a storm about a century later. Took it down with him. It’s probably digested in its belly by this point, if it’s even alive.”
“Didn’t stop great-great-great-grandpa though. He lived the rest of his life as a merchant-cultivator, fighting threats from both the high seas and the lowest underbidders! He was one of the big reasons that Port Fin’s even on the map. He helped establish the trade routes that make it such a key stop between Karano and Lutai.”
“That’s an amazing story,” Ren said, going a big bite out of his dumpling. He winced as he did, the act of overextending his jaw exacerbating the pain from Shou Chengtai’s kick.
“You should probably take the pill,” Bao said, passing him the box. “They tend to work better the sooner you take them to your injury.”
“I think I’ll wait until I have it checked,” Ren replied, “I wouldn’t want to risk any unwanted effects.” Li Peizhi had told him that he could always come to him for help involving pills, so long as he snuck him some sweets from outside the infirmary when he did. A few Teal Mountain Tokens was a small price to pay to ensure that he wasn’t being poisoned by a spiteful winner.”
“The seal’s still intact,” Lee Han said, waving away his accidentally spoken concern as he checked the name hidden in the box’s decoration, “so unless Alchemist Ji Jinhua’s decided to risk his sect’s entire reputation on such a traceable act, you’re quite safe. And that’s pretty unlikely since he’s from one of their founding families.”
“Oh, he does good work,” Huan noted, “his pills tend to go for five stones above the standard rate.”
“Huh, that much?” Lee Han laughed, stroking his chin, “I suppose Shou Chengtai’s determined to prove the old saying about a fool and their money true. How much do you think I’d be able to get from him if I challenged him to a wager to prove his strength?”
“Probably not much,” Min laughed. “Did you see how quickly he backed down when you challenged him?” As the two of them began to discuss different ways they goad the Shou heir into parting from the wealth he clearly had so little attachment to, Bao turned to Chao Ren. His young companion had been content with enjoying his dumplings in silence for most of the conversation, and as he sat, quietly turning over the dull, red pill in his fingers, Bao spoke.
“So, congratulations on passing the exam,” he said, refilling Ren’s tea. When the other gently tapped the table in thanks, index and middle fingers rapping out a quick three-beat, he continued. “I’m sure that you’ve heard plenty of that by now, but I figured I should still say it now that I’ve got the chance.”
“Thanks,” Ren replied, “you’re actually the first say that to me.”
“Wait, truly?” Bao asked.
“Well, Instructor Yeung Lin wrong me a letter to that effect, but nobody has put it into words. Spoken words, that is. Everyone in the medical wing just treated me like any other disciple.”
“Damn. So, I guess that means you haven’t had a chance to celebrate yet, have you?”
“Well, I did get an extra sweet bun with my dinner last night.”
“Oh, come on! That’s hardly a proper celebration!” Bao exclaimed, clapping an arm around Ren’s shoulder. He almost fumbled his pill in surprise, barely catching it before it could slip his grip.
“Two months in your room, a week in the hospital and all you have to show for it is an extra bun and an unfortunate encounter? That won’t do at all! You must join us for dinner tonight. We’re having a celebration at… uh…” He looked to Lee Han for assistance as he wracked his mind for the name.
“The Iron Slab,” Lee Han prompted.
“Yes, The Iron Slab. It’s supposed to be really known for its, uh…” Bao fumbled a second time, his recollection of Lee Han’s vague explanation failing him yet again.
“It’s grilled food,” Lee Han said with a sigh. “Look, just trust me when I say that it’s going to be good, alright?”
“I’m not sure I will be able to attend,” Ren said, gesturing to the boxes stacked next to the table. “I need to be getting to the dorms to get the key to my room, and then I need to see if there’s a newcomers meeting I can still attend later today.”
“Nonsense!” Bao replied. “We can help you to your residence and then show you around. Between the three of us, we’ve been on enough of those dull tours that I’m sure we can answer most of your questions. And besides, dinner’s on me and Shen tonight, so you don’t need to worry about paying.”
“I really couldn’t bear to impose,” Ren started, raising his hands in protest.
“It’s no imposition at all! We’re fellow disciples now, under the same mentor. We’ll be seeing each other quite a bit from now on, so we might as well get to really know each other over a good meal. And it’s a spiritual restaurant too, so it’ll be good for your recovery.”
Chao Ren had to admit that Xia Bao was right about that. His mother often said that good food was its own form of medicine, and spirit food a far more potent form of it. In the hands of an experienced spirit chef, the qi-rich meat of a spirit beast could become as potent as any pill, and in a far more palatable form at that. The only downside was that—with few exceptions—it couldn’t hold its effects for nearly as long as a pill, which was why the latter was still so valuable to cultivators.
He grimaced a bit as he thought about the bitter taste in store for him when he took the Blood and Flesh Recovery Pill. It might be a good idea to save a dumpling for afterwards, to help his tongue recover from the astringent taste of the medicine.
“If you put it that way, it would be rude to refuse such a generous offer from a fellow disciple,” Ren admitted, putting his hand over Bao’s shoulder after a moment’s hesitation.
“Great!” Bao replied. “Though we really should start moving. Shen’s induction ceremony was supposed to start around noon, so we really should start going if we don’t want to keep him waiting too long.”
