1 – Perhaps the matter is of a rather sensitive nature?
439 0 9
X
Reading Options
Font Size
A- 15px A+
Width
Reset
X
Table of Contents
Loading... please wait.
Spoiler

Notice:

This story features some depictions of and references to mature themes. Things referenced or described include: violence, gore, murder, sexual intercourse, blood drinking, the consumption of raw meat, body horror, altered states of consciousness, attempted self-harm or suicide, etc.

Is it dark though? Not particularly. This is largely a comedy, not a tragedy.

[collapse]

The Gentle Springs Pavilion greeted yet another late afternoon, and alongside it, the return of one of its regular patrons. This one was not quite like the others though.

“Ah, it’s the Young Master,” said one of the middle-ranked courtesans, one Meilin, and she was by no means the only one to take note of the Young Master’s arrival. However, her gaze did not linger on him too long, because there was a performance to be held and thus still a fair bit of preparation to deal with.

The Gentle Springs Pavilion had been her home for a number of years now, and as such, Meilin had seen the Young Master come and go on a number of occasions. She – and many others alongside her – had found the man a bit of an oddity at first, and in a way, she still did. Because the man was somewhat peculiar, but not necessarily in a bad way.

He never really requested anyone specific, and the Madam readily would assign whoever she saw fit. Some of the girls would pray not to get assigned, whereas others would secretly hope for it – and as things were, Meilin belonged to the latter. Unfortunately, given Meilin’s role in the night’s dance and musical number, such a thing would not come to pass – not tonight, at any rate.

From the looks of it though, there would be no one assigned to him tonight, because the attendants did not lead the Young Master off to one of the private rooms but rather towards one of the tables tucked away into a corner, and bowed respectfully before heading off to fetch refreshments.

It seemed as though the Young Master might not be here for work tonight but rather for pleasure, and while tentatively plucking the strings on her yueqin, Meilin quietly mused what the other might think of her performance. Because she herself thought that she had improved significantly since the last time around.

Certain things were still the same though. As ever, the Young Master paid little heed to them all, offering but a cursory glance at their looks and a nod of appreciation for their arts. He seemed particularly appreciative of their food, and the Madam had always instructed that he should be served the very best that they had to offer.

He was a strange man though. Meilin had attended him in private, and thus, she knew that the quiet whispers of her fellow sisters were indeed true. The Young Master harboured no desire to touch them, and indeed, although he did look at them from time to time, it was largely with disinterest – as far as looks were concerned, at any rate. It was a humbling experience for many a courtesan, to be scrutinised yet somehow found lacking and thus undesirable. One had far better luck engaging with the Young Master with one’s wit, or with one’s knowledge and skill in the cultured arts – and for anyone lacking in either, attending him undoubtedly proved a tedious affair.

Meilin was not among them though. She found the Young Master perfectly pleasant to be around and engage in conversation. She knew little about his personal life though, and she rather doubted the assertions of some of her elder sisters. Because some of them readily asserted that the Young Master was indeed a Daoist who had attained longevity in exchange for letting go of his desires – and while Meilin could neither prove nor disprove the part about longevity, she knew the rest to be utter fabrication.

Clearly, none of said sisters had ever served the Young Master on days when he did indulge, drowning his sorrows in rice wine. But Meilin certainly had, and although alcohol seemed to render the Young Master rather quiet, there was little mistaking the anguished longing. And it proved astonishingly apparent whenever the Young Master gazed out the window. Because then, then he would look at the moon and sigh, motioning for Meilin or whoever was attending him to pour him another drink.

Meilin did wonder though, especially after all these years, which white moonlight had so stolen away the man’s heart, spurning his affections. Or perhaps the Young Master had never been in a position to offer them in the first place, if said flower had already been plucked or promised to another. The object of the Young Master’s affections could hardly have been a courtesan however, because his plain clothing aside, he had to have a significant amount of wealth, given how the Madam always treated him.

Still, Meilin did wonder, and as she lifted her gaze, she found herself wondering even more. Because as she looked up, her eyes widened at the sight of the three men that had suddenly appeared in the room.

It was easy to tell what they were, and even from whence they had come. Because while Meilin had spent a significant portion of her life at the Gentle Springs Pavilion, she was by no means oblivious to the matters of the outside world. Furthermore, she had spent her early years a bit further to the east, and thus, there was little mistaking the distinctive jade-green robes. In addition to that, there were the jade crowns, the long flowing black hair, and the fine steel strapped to their backs.

They were clearly cultivators, clearly Daoist priests from the sect over at the Green Jade Peaks, and they barely even glanced at Meilin or the rest as they made their way across the room, wearing undeniably cold expressions.

From the get-go, it was perfectly obvious as to where – or rather, towards whom – they were heading, and Meilin wondered if she was perhaps the only one who felt a cold shard of dread in her heart.

Within just a few long strides, the apparent leader had already reached the table of the Young Master. From her position, Meilin could not see very well what transpired after, but before long, the cultivator turned on his heel and swept out just as quickly as he had come, followed by his apparent subordinates. Meilin only spared one brief look at him, taking note of the other’s square chin, broad forehead, pronounced eyebrows and piercing gaze before turning her eyes back towards the Young Master.

The Young Master meanwhile was just getting up from his seat, and upon noticing Meilin’s worried gaze, he simply offered up a smile and a slight wave before stepping outside himself.

Meilin could not help but stare after him though, right up until a sharp gaze from the Madam reminded her. She could worry about the Young Master later, once the night’s performance was finished. She honestly could not help but be curious though, and a quick glance to some of her fellow sisters betrayed that she was by no means the only one.

Still, it was not her nor any of her sisters’ place to meddle in the affairs of cultivators, and particularly not in those of the major sects. Because they dealt with things that lay beyond both the understanding and power of commoners like them.

Could it possibly be that the Young Master’s white moonlight was indeed one of them – one of those lofty immortals up on the Green Jade Peaks? Could he have grievously offended them somehow?

Unfortunately, such a thing was not strictly outside the realm of possibility. Because while Meilin had not seen any of the Young Master’s works for herself, there was ample testimony of his artistic skill... as well as his penchant for drawing these immortals in occasionally less dignified positions.

Thinking this, Meilin took a deep breath and quietly lit a candle in her heart, praying for the continued well-being of the foolish Young Master.

 


 

Meanwhile, the aforementioned Young Master stepped out of the Gentle Springs Pavilion and promptly made his way into a nearby alleyway. It was dark and deserted. However, it did not remain as such for long.

“So,” said the Young Master, stuffing his hands into his sleeves as he fired off a genial smile at the trio before him. “How might this humble one be of assistance?”

The leader’s expression twisted, coldness giving way to mild disgust.

“Peak Lord Jiao,” he said. “The Sect Leader has requested your immediate return.”

The Young Master, who was indeed Peak Lord Jiao, raised an eyebrow at that.

“If so, then why not send a messenger talisman to me directly?” he said, because although he did occasionally ignore such things if they were from the other Peak Lords, he almost always opened the ones sent by the esteemed Sect Leader – because ignoring them had proven to have noticeable consequences in the past.

“Perhaps the matter is of a rather sensitive nature,” Peak Lord Cheng responded, expression unreadable. Rather, it looked like a scowl to most people’s eyes, but as things were, he – Jiao Ziyu – could recognise that the other’s face simply looked like that. In fact, Jiao Ziyu was relatively certain that he had never really seen the other smile, and as such, it would not be completely outrageous to assume that the other’s face had simply frozen in that kind of expression.

The other could still scowl though, and he most definitely did, making his disapproval perfectly apparent as Jiao Ziyu pulled a messenger talisman from his sleeve.

“The Sect Leader has requested your immediate return, Peak Lord Jiao,” Peak Lord Cheng pressed, looking moments away from physically grabbing him and dragging him if need be. There was no need however – no actual need.

“This humble one is aware,” Jiao Ziyu said, inscribing the messenger talisman with a basic message. “This humble one also had prior commitments.”

Peak Lord Cheng’s eyes narrowed, the other’s opinions of him as high as ever. Jiao Ziyu had no intention of correcting him though, because it wasn’t his place to do so, nor would it serve any particular purpose. Rather, Jiao Ziyu found that he might actually prefer it like this.

Imbuing the talisman with a small amount of qi, Jiao Ziyu promptly sent it off to search for its intended recipient – the contact that Jiao Ziyu had been scheduled to meet at a certain pavilion.

“Are you done?” Peak Lord Cheng said, impatience quickly eating away at any lingering politeness – which Jiao Ziyu was perfectly fine with. He was after all quite aware of how Peak Lord Cheng and his ilk regarded him – and really, how the Windward Sect as a whole regarded him.

Jiao Ziyu didn’t care though – not much, at any rate. He had no intention of impressing Peak Lord Cheng, and if he could appal him, then all the better, honestly. All the better, because frankly, Jiao Ziyu couldn’t care less about earning the man’s approval.

“This humble one requires no escort,” Jiao Ziyu said, and that much was true. Because although it had come at a quite inconvenient time, it wasn’t as though Jiao Ziyu was quite so shameless as to ignore a direct summons from the Sect Leader.

“Hurry up,” Peak Lord Cheng said, and both he and his cronies quickly stepped onto their swords and took to the skies without as much as a by-your-leave – and although Jiao Ziyu didn’t really care about such things, he honestly couldn’t help but flash what he knew to be an offensive gesture at their retreating backs.

 

 

9