[story] the one and one thousand fights

[ib_archive]

author: halved fool (halvedfool)



"We've just passed another one!"

"You can go to the inn."

"It's the middle of the night! Anyone hoping to test a Chuanshi master is safely ensconced at home, having dinner!"

"Anyone hoping to test a Chuanshi practitioner will be waiting. I would hate to disappoint. Though it flatters me to be called a master."

"You're a master of stupid choices!" But he continued to struggle after her.

Shu Xia, more often called Mianzhao Xia by her colleagues, was a tall woman who swayed as she walked, like bamboo beneath the force of a crushing wind. She cut a dramatic silhouette even under a clouded night sky. Her face, long and narrow with a proportionate nose, was shrouded below a largely opaque veil that fell from the rim of her round straw hat to her chest, revealing little but the outline of her chin and cheeks. Around her shoulders was draped an overcoat of charcoal black, hemmed and collared with thick bands of deep orange, and embroidered with a pattern of a phoenix and twisting clouds in thin threads of gold silk, marking out the emperor's favour.

Veil fluttering dramatically, she darted through the streets of Lizi with Kong Jisuan at her heels. Jisuan was not as impressive a figure, being significantly younger and slighter than Xia. He wore simple robes and a girdle, and the knot in his hair signified that he was a scholar. In truth, he had not yet sat for his examinations, hoping to present a strong recommendation for himself with an essay on the origins of the Chuanshi school of kungfu. The history of Chuanshi, however, was so mired in confusion that his attempts to unravel the truth had proven futile. Aggravated by his ineffectual references, he had found and latched on to a Chuanshi martial artist, hoping to record his independant research in their travels.

In truth, he was not entirely certain why Mianzhao Xia had not simply punched him and left him behind. Nevertheless, he had taken to sleeping outside her door at night to ensure she did not leave him behind. He had, in the last two weeks, grown to find the cold ground surprisingly comfortable as a bed.

Now, he thought longingly of that cold floor as he barely managed to keep up with Xia. His sense of exhaustion mingled with the sense of injury that she could glide along the pavement like the frayed remains of old ghosts while his feet slapped the cobbles like fresh fish against a chopping board.

"Stop," she said, suddenly. Jisuan would have crashed into the insignia embroidered into her coat if she had not whipped out an arm to steady him. To their left, an alley loomed, dark and somewhat forbidding. Xia faced the dark lane and spoke into it, "Why don't you come out?"

Someone laughed, terrifying the little hairs on the nape of Jisuan's neck into standing on end. The sound echoed strangely in the quiet street as a boy emerged. He could have been no more than two years older than Jisuan, with a wide and honest face. His hair had been tied into a simple knot, and the ends of it, around his shoulders, fanned in the wind that had suddenly struck up.

From beneath her gauzy veil, Xia sized up the boy. A strange aura welled up around the area, making Jisuan feel strangely alienated.

"Kid," said Xia, swinging her pack from where it hung over her shoulder into Jisuan's arms without turning her head. He nearly staggered under the weight of it.

"I'll get out of the way, shall I," he muttered, scuttling off. He nearly stumbled over a stone in his haste, but managed to catch himself on the wooden rail outside a shuttered shop front.

"I am a humble student of the Chuanshi style," said Mianzhao Xia, as per tradition. " I know the story of its birth. The one who would hear it must first triumph against me in honourable combat."

The moon slid out from behind the clouds to illuminate the scene. The paving stones glittered pale and grey. At the crossroads, the doors and windows were all closed, spilling not a trace of candlelight onto the street, from corner to grey-pillar of the building faces.

"As a practitioner of the Tierongquan style," said the boy, "I would hear it."

Xia inclined her head, and they assumed their stances. Across the ground, their shadows stretched, limber and steady. Jisuan huddled in the shade of the building as though it would protect him from the strange sense of tension in the air, though this was clearly preposterous.

On a harsh exhale, the boy struck first with a fully extended arm. Xia deflected the blow, shaping her arm around it to absorb the strength from it. Her open palm clenched into a fist that she brought up swiftly, to be met by an elbow block. The boy twisted away to strike again with a slice, a fist, an open palm hit in quick succession, and was thrice rebuffed. He twisted away to lead an attack with his leg, which Xia ducked under. From there, she came at him with a series of strikes at his torso, all of which he successfully deflected but the last, from which he dodged away.

Then he came at her with his knee, which she blocked, but it somehow lashed out into a striking foot, which drove her back a pace although her back remained straight and her stance was not eroded.

Jisuan, watching avidly, let out a small gasp. "Yes, he's not bad," said a voice. There was a man beside him. He wore a practical but fashionable hairstyle with fashionable robes, and capped them off with fashionable red shoes. He also carried a lantern in his hand, bobbing at the end of its stick to spill golden light in a small circle on the paving stones.

Faced by this unexpected sight, Jisuan squawked in surprise and fell back against the railing. The man glanced sidelong at him. "Oh, my apologies," he said. "I didn't intend to startle you. I assumed you would have noticed at least the light of my lantern when I walked up."

Clutching at his chest, Jisuan said, "I was engrossed in the - that." He gestured vaguely at the scene.

"I'll grant that it's quite engrossing," the man said, smiling so widely that his eyes disappeared between the folds of his face.

"You're very kind," Jisuan muttered to the side.

Xia dodged a strike that sent her veil flapping as it shot by her ear, and dived in to breach the boy's defence with a chain of punches to his unprotected torso again. He ducked under the blows and dodged to the side, dodging again as Xia swept after him like an inexorable wave, a promise of pain to come.

Before she could corner him, however, he visibly braced himself and charged at the pillar from which Jisuan's railing jutted. Perpendicular to the spectators, he ran several metres up the face of the wall, and somersaulted off at the zenith of his run. He landed lightly on the ground, behind Xia, who had already begun to turn.

For a moment, each caught the eye of the other in respect.

Now Xia lashed out first, sweeping the blade of her palm at his chest. Rather than block, the boy dropped into an abrupt crouch and rolled away, kicking at her feet. Nimbly, she leapt back a fraction before he could knock her feet away, falling into a controlled backflip, where she slapped her hands against the pavement and bounced back onto her feet. At once, she deflected the leaping kick aimed at her with the distinctive Chuanshi block, redirecting the strength into an attempted flip. The boy rolled gracefully away from this and back onto his feet in fluid motion. She blocked his open palm strike with her left arm, and struck with her right at his side. Rolling with the motion, to bring her back to his. She swooped in suddenly then with an elbow jab to the small of his back.

Disoriented, the boy swung away in clumsy reflex. She smiled then, a muted white crescent beneath her veil. When he rushed her again, she inhaled and dropped to her palms and swinging her leg to kick his stance from under him with aplomb. Before he could recover, she had the blade of her hand at the ready by his throat, her stance strong as a rock.

The boy let his head fall back. "I yield," he admitted, though the grin on his face did not seem characteristic of defeat. Jisuan presumed it was another difference between fighting at night and during the day. With those words, the moon slid back behind the clouds, as though she had had enough excitement for the night, and plunged them back into darkness, save for the small, gold lantern bobbing at the hand of Jisuan's companion.

"Why is there a lantern?" asked the boy, as he and Xia got to their feet.

"A lantern?" Xia turned. "Denglong-di, is that you?"

"Denglong," explained the man, in Jisuan's direction, "is one of my large collection of names, and one I have never been able to shake off." He took a step forward, in his fashionable red shoes. "Xia of the Veil," he said, bowing with exaggerated formality, given the welcome Mianzhao Xia had extended him. "Bearer of the Yanzhen dagger. It's good to see you again."

She crossed her arms at those words. "Is it good for me, I wonder? No matter. Whatever business we have will have to wait. I owe this kid a story."

"Eh?" exclaimed the boy, in surprise. "Didn't I lose?"

Xia replied, in the traditional coda, "You fought honourably. For that honour, this student offers you a tale."

SHU XIA (舒霞)
I've heard it said that Chuanshi was first taught in the city of Chuanshi, which sat on the north-eastern coast of the Empire. The city was entirely crimson - its streets were red, its gardens were red, the sand on it beaches were red - as though a dying man had spat a last gurgle of blood all over it. It is also as ugly as the backside of a donkey, if the donkey had first marinated its rear in vinegar for three months. The ugliest man in the world once looked upon Chuanshi. He then went to temple to praise Heaven that never in his life had he ever been as ugly as Chuanshi!

There sat Chuanshi, ugly as a fat red blister , when the seas suddenly swelled and broke open to reveal an enormous fish. The thought of all the dinners the fish's bulk promised brought people from all over the city to gawk at it. Before anyone could catch it, the fish spat out a young girl, and sank back into the sea.

Disappointed at the loss of all that meat, the rougher characters in the crowd congregated around her, but the girl got up. One by one, she beat each of them into submission with her fists. By nightfall, the entire city of Chuanshi had fallen to its knees to beg her to teach them Chuanshi.

She taught them her distinct style, regimenting discipline for three years with an iron fist. That was the first grandmaster of the Chuanshi school. At the end of the three years, the seas swelled up again like a bruise, and the fish returned to reclaim the girl.

Her parting words to the city of her students were these: "Your training will not fail to support the dynasty of Heaven's favour. The dynasty is a bucket--"

The record holds that someone asked what sort of bucket it was, and where it had been hidden.

"It is a metaphorical bucket that stands for the ruler of the empire! It requires all of your support. This bucket brims with wine, the very smell of which is strong enough to intoxicate the entire city. But if any single one of you lets spill a single drop from the bucket, all that wine will turn to shit. You'll have brough calamity on your own senses! So you'd better not stop practising when I'm not here to beat it into you."

For the one who had interrupted her, she allowed a final, affectionate thump to the head (he was bedridden for a week in recovery). She stepped into the mouth of the fish, who gulped and swam away.

So the city of Chuanshi practised their distinctive style, and duly did not let the bucket drop, when the Chen deposed the usurping Chu Dynasty in returning to the throne.

"And that is the tale of how Chuanshi came to be," said Mianzhao Xia.

"It's probably false," Jisuan grumbled. The Chuanshi sect had first come into prominence during the twilight of the Chu Dynasty's reign, when various groups felt that the mandate of Heaven had never validated the right of the Chu to rule the Empire. Little more than a small, rebellious kungfu sect at that point, Chuanshi had fiercely allied itself to the Chen Dynasty, who had ruled the empire, but later fallen to the generals of the Chu. Incensed by this, the Chu Emperor had called for the execution of the Chuanshi grandmaster.

The flaw in this approach was that no one knew the identity of the Chuanshi grandmaster, for Chuanshi had been too insignificant previously to have had much notice taken of the sect. To protect that identity and thumb their noses at the Chu usurpers, Chuanshi students had scattered through the Empire, challenging Chu soldiers to honorable one-on-one combat. It is said that no battle the Chuanshi students fought was ever lost in those years, whether fair or foully played. Should the honour of the combat have been preserved, the martial artists would tell the story of Chuanshi's origins, which would presumably contain a clue to the grandmaster's identity. When the soldiers compared the stories later, they found that no two were alike, causing mass confusion. As such, the Chuanshi grandmaster's identity became one of the great rallying symbols for the Chen insurgency movement. When the Chen Dynasty was reinstated, Chuanshi became a school of great repute and influence, given special licence by the Chen Emperors to honour their craft, which had persisted to this very day.

"Ignore him," Xia said. "He's a stalker who likes to collect Chuanshi stories. Are you hungry, boy?"

"Yes!" Jisuan said with great emphasis, to remind Xia that they hadn't eaten since the two of them had left the village of Guazi.

"I was talking to the other boy," said Xia. She jabbed her thumb in his direction. "But you can buy us dinner if you're that hungry."

"Er," said the boy.

"Why don't I buy dinner?" said Denglong, slipping into the conversation smoothly. "I have business with Xia-jie. I should compensate for your time too." He smiled, despite his serious tone, turning to Xia for approval.

"What if you're not invited?" she said.

"Excuse me," Jisuan said. "He's offering to pay."

Denglong waggled his eyebrows comically at her, and Xia smothered a laugh. "I'm only kidding," she said. "Hey, stalker. Find us an expensive place to eat."

"I am not a stalker...!!"

As they went off, Denglong turned to the boy. "Are you coming?" he said.

"Erm," said the boy. "Should I?"

"It's up to you," Denglong shrugged, the bobbing lantern in his hand jerking at the ends of all the shadows strangely. "But don't you know? I'm offering to pay."

The boy considered this and grinned, like quicksilver. "That sounds all right, then." He ran into the ring of light, and they chased after the sound of Jisuan holding a one-sided squabble against Xia, until someone slammed his window open to shout at the poor lad.

Unlike the likely-fictional city of Chuanshi, which ostensibly hopped at night with kungfu fighting, Lizi was a city that slept early, at least in the part of town that they now wandered. They did eventually find an inn that opened up the kitchens for them, but it wasn't as expensive as Xia had expressed hope for.

They sat themselves around the table, Jisuan taking care not to sit directly opposite Xia so he wouldn't have to watch her eat. Once she had relaxed, xia removed her hat and veil, an act that once shocked Jisuan, in the days of his innocence when he had first met her. She had so effectively cultivated an air of mystery in his presence that he had been quite horrified to find that it came off for so mundane a reason as eating.

"So, boy," Xia said. "Do you have a name?"

He looked up from his perusal of paintings on the wall, a series of derivative bird-and-blossom watercolours that seemed particularly popular at the moment. "Yes," he said. "My family name is Ting."

Jisuan blinked at that. The way he said Ting was strange and did not correspond to any word Jisuan knew. "Did you mean 'Ding'?" he asked, bewildered.

The boy considered this, and winced suddenly. "Er, no," he said. "Actually, I meant 'Chen'. Sorry, slip of the tongue. My given name is, erm, Qingzhu."

"'Chen' and 'Ding' are really different," Jisuan argued.

The boy Qingzhu flushed. "Yes," he said. "They are, aren't they. Denglong-xiong, I believe you had to talk to Mianzhao Xia-jie. I shouldn't monopolise the conversation like this."

"Yes, thank you," said Denglong. "Xia-jie, I'm here on business for your Shifu."

"Shifu?" Xia put down her chopsticks. "Is he all right? Is he dying?"

"What? Do you really think I'd have let you distract me for so long if he were dying?" Denglong sputtered.

"You're easily distracted," Xia muttered, her forehead creased.

"I am not--" Denglong composed himself, putting a hand on his beardless chin. "Hm. No. He is not dying. He is retiring."

"Retiring?" repeated Xia. Her back locked upright. "Are you sure? That can't be right, Denglong-di. The Chuanshi grandmaster is too young to retire!"

Denglong shrugged, although he did not look entirely at ease himself. "I don't tell him what to do. Our relationship is exactly the opposite, actually. He told me to find the Golden Needle Daggers, the heirlooms of the Chuanshi sect, and their bearers."

"The Yanzhen and Jingzhen Daggers?"

"You," said Denglong, watching her closely, "should have the Yanzhen Dagger, at the very least."

"So I should," said Xia, obliquely.

"You reacted very strangely tonight when I mentioned it," said Denglong.

"Did I?" Xia asked. She smiled. "Denglong, don't worry. I have it. What does Shifu need me back for?"

"You and the bearer of the Jingzhen Dagger," he reminded her. The tension had relaxed in his shoulders. "There needs to be a certain number of highly seated people around when he retires, so his successor can be appointed. Your rank's in the running."

She leaned back on her stool, thinking. "Have you found the bearer of Jingzhen Dagger?"

"No."

"You want me to find her for you," Xia guessed.

Denglong shrugged. "I was actually hoping that you'd have had the Jingzhen Dagger, so all we would need to do is wait for her to storm in and try to get it back."

Xia closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead. She picked up her chopsticks again. "That's not going to happen," she said.

"Then I'll need your help," Denglong said. "Given that you are the expert on finding her."

"Hmm," said Xia. She chewed and swallowed. "Things have ... changed," she told Denglong. "I think I know how to find her, but it can't be straightforward this time."

"We just need to be back in time for Qingming Festival," said Denglong.

She took another bite. "I can't make promises, but that's a while away. What's Shifu thinking?" Xia wondered. She closed her eyes. "Ting," she said.

"Sorry?" said Qingzhu, jumping.

"That's how some southern dialects pronounce 'Chen', isn't it?" she asked.

Jisuan looked up. "That sounds nothing like 'Chen'!" he cried indignantly. Xia waved a hand at him for silence.

"Yes, it is," Qingzhu admitted.

"We're going south tomorrow, this fellow and I," said Xia. "Would you like to come?"

"We are?" Denglong said, dismayed.

"South?" Jisuan cried. "As in the 'socially backwards, morally bankrupt' south? No offence," he added for Qingzhu's benefit.

"Yes," said Xia. "You don't need to come."

"Must I?" Denglong asked plaintively.

"You're the one who needs to find her," she told him. "We're going to look for her ancestral home. I know it's in Longyan. If we don't find her there, we may find out where she went."

"And you need someone to keep you from killing each other," he sighed. "I understand." His expression was pitiful to look at, however.

"'Morally bankrupt'?" Qingzhu repeated.

Jisuan suddenly remembered that Chen Qingzhu had fought Mianzhao Xia and had forced her back a full pace. "You can't deny it's true," he said, shiftily.

Qingzhu thought this over, laying his chopsticks across the lip of his empty bowl. "No, I suppose not," he said, clapping Jisuan on the shoulder. Jisuan coughed frantically, but no further violence seemed forthcoming. "We have better kungfu, though."

Chuanshi is a northern style of kungfu, as are any martial arts of political significance. Had Chuanshi been southern in origin, it would never have come into its particular brand of fame, as neither the Chu Empire nor the Chen Empire would have heard of the sect. (Another arguable factor would be the tendency of the martial arts world to distance itself from politics, a conceit that increases in geographical proximity to the southern coastline.)

Northern kungfu is more practical, and can be found taught in most major cities in the north, while southern kungfu adheres to the hidebound tradition of setting schools in the obscure countryside, out of touch with current affairs. While both practise kungfu, kungfu in the north is a tool of everyday relevance, while in the south, kungfu is a mystic art.

Similarly, cities of the empire share the characteristic of being set near water for practical purposes. However, northern cities tend to cluster around rivers and lakes, while the larger cities in the south are all port cities set along the seaside.

The city of Putao, which barely fell on the southern side, was no exception to this rule. Putao was known for its trade in domestic and imported wines from outside the Empire.

The first challenger in this town practised Hou-Ruyibang kungfu, which specialised in the use of iron cudgels.

Xia elected not to use a weapon, to the gasping delight of the crowds that always gathered in the prospect of a Chuanshi Challenge. Chuanshi was, essentially, state-sanctioned entertainment with the guarantee of a practitioner who excelled both in kungfu and in storytelling. This drew the imagination of the people under Heaven.

"What did you mean," Jisuan said, "when you said you had to stop them killing each other?"

Denglong was eyeing the iron pole in the challenger's hand. She was a young woman who had scooped her hair into two buns atop her head, and she whirled the cudgel expertly now. "This is not going to be pretty," he said. "What? Oh. Ah, I suppose I was exaggerating. Mianzhao Xia and Mang Qiuying - that's 'Mang' as in 'sightless' - have managed to keep fighting for the seven years I haven't watched them without killing each other."

The combatants bowed to each other, Mianzhao Xia with her left hand wrapped around her right fist, and the Hou-Ruyibang girl's hands around her cudgel.

"Ah," Qingzhu said, wincing. "You're right, Denglong-xiong."

"Yes, I'm not even going to watch," Denglong agreed. He looked down at Jisuan's befuddled face. "You want to know about Xia and Qiuying? Let me tell you a story."

Something bashed into the stone pavement with a loud CLANGGG. Hopefully, it was the Hou-Ruyibang fighter's iron cudgel rather than anything else.

"There were once two animals, the earthworm and the prawn," said Denglong. "You know and I know that the earthworm has no eyes, but long, long ago, the earthworm possessed a pair of bright black eyes that were beautiful to behold. The earthworm could crawl on the land and swim in the water. It was an altogether more adorable creature, when it had eyes.

"The earthworm also possessed a friend, the prawn. The prawn as you know it today has a pair of eyes, though it is an ugly creature. Long, long ago, however, the prawn was blind as a earthworm is now. The prawn and the earthworm would go about together on land and in water, happy as can be. But the earthworm noticed that the prawn could not see. This was particularly problematic in their friendship when it wanted to show the prawn the delicacy of a sunrise or anything of that kind."

Denglong looked up as the crowd applauded. Xia looked none the worse for the wear, and her opponent wore a crazed grin on her face. Inscrutable as ever, Xia was saying, "Please. Try again." He shook his head and returned to his own captive audience.

"So the earthworm took the eyes from its flesh and loaned them to the prawn."

"That's ... palatable," Qingzhu observed, as Jisuan made an expressive face. Denglong chuckled.

"Now the earthworm could not see, and so it became afraid of the water, but it reckoned that the phobia would not matter in the long run, as its friend would, of course, bring back its eyes."

"Of course it didn't," Jisuan broke in.

"Don't spoil it for Qingzhu," Denglong cautioned. "Now, the prawn, having propped the earthworm's eyes up on stalks it stuck in its head, was suddenly aware of the world in a new way. It began to like having eyes. It began to wonder what would happen if it never returned the eyes. And then the prawn noticed that the earthworm did not dare go in the water."

"So it jumped in, appropriating the earthworm's eyes and stayed in the water forever after, while the earthworm never left the land again," finished Jisuan. "That's heartwarming. Incidentally, I don't see how I can spoil Qingzhu, as you gave away the ending from the start, with how the prawn now has eyes but the earthworm doesn't."

"To be fair, real life spoilt me for that," Qingzhu pointed out.

"You see? He might be a bit naive - that can't be helped as he's from the south - but that doesn't mean he's entirely stupid," Jisuan said.

"Haha," Qingzhu said dutifully, and clapped Jisuan on the shoulder in manful camaraderie. Jisuan staggered.

"Ow, you oaf!" he snapped. The people around him shushed him frantically, which dissolved into gasps. Instead of the intermittent clangs, there was a sweeping whoosh that Xia had managed to evade. As Jisuan straightened his back and tiptoed to see better, she somersaulted over the low sweep of the cudgel, landing with hat and stance firmly grounded.

"You philistines," sighed Denglong. "The earthworm stayed by the waterside for days and days, crying out the name of its friend pitifully. Eventually, it was forced to leave or starve to death, but sometimes, if you go down to the side of the water, you can hear the earthworm crying out for the prawn to come back in the whisper of the wind."

Qingzhu said, "I don't think that's true."

"And this has nothing to do with Mianzhao Xia and Mang Qiuying," Jisuan said.

Denglong rolled his eyes. "Heaven help me," he said. "Imagine with me, that instead of crying piteously by the water, the earthworm managed to work up a temper that broke its phobia. This rejuvenated earthworm slithered off into the water and found the prawn, taking back its eyes. The prawn then chased the earthworm to get the eyes again, and it turned into a battle of epic proportions. That is exactly the relationship between Xia and Qiuying."

"...please stop," said Jisuan. "You have succeeded in confusing me very badly."

"Yes, exactly!" Denglong said. "Now you understand. That's how everyone feels when they try to think about these two crazy people."

"You'd be a brilliant Chuanshi artist with those storytelling skills," Qingzhu said.

"I haven't the aptitude for it," Denglong demurred. "Is Xia-jie done yet? She should be at full strength now, while that poor girl's probably worn herself out..."

Her swings were indeed not as sharp or fast as before. Xia's eyes narrowed, though no one could see it. She darted in, whirling on her heel as she did so to knock the cudgel aside, and striking sharply at the Hou-Ruyibang fighter's chest to break her stance, toppling the fighter over with it.

The city of Longyan had about the entire city the persistent scent of salt, because the salt farmers still worked as they had before the city had turned into a trading port. There, Denglong found the Zhou family inn first. He sent Qingzhu to look for Xia and Jisuan, who were searching on the other side of town.

Qingzhu found them haggling over yuyuan sticks, Jisuan peeved because he was an excellent haggler. "They don't speak Common here, unfortunately," Xia was saying.

"Yes," Jisuan snapped back. "It is immensely noticeable that we are no longer in a place that uses a civilised dialect--"

"I taught Mang Qiuying how to speak Common," she said. Jisuan forgot how to close his mouth all of a sudden. She looked up. "Oh, look, it's Qingzhu," she said, too quickly and brightly.

Taking pity on her, and tucking the information away for himself, Qingzhu called out, "We found it! I'll bring you there. Jisuan, give me a stick!"

"NO," was the eloquent and immediate retort. "You know the dialect, get one yourself."

"There's more than one dialect in the south, did you know?" Qingzhu asked, holding his hand out.

Xia dropped her stick into his hand. "Suddenly, I'm not hungry. Did you leave Denglong behind?"

"Yes," Qingzhu said, pulling a yuyuan off the bamboo skewer with his teeth. He led them out into the street, winding their way up the deceptively gentle slope. Jisuan was panting by the time they turned into the the Zhou Peony Inn.

Qingzhu opened the door into a cacophony of chaos. People were shouting at one another and bouncing up and down the stairs in riotous motion. Someone had dropped a basket in a corner, and rolled around to be smashed underfoot. Several children also appeared to be part of the fun without really understanding what was happening.

"What's going--" said Xia, when someone took a good look at her and shouted out a string of syllables that sounded vulgar to Jisuan's sensitive ears, whereupon the whole clan descended upon her and showered energetic shouts and handshakes on her.

"What are they saying?" Jisuan asked Qingzhu, who shot him an annoyed look.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know this dialect."

"How can you not know?" Jisuan muttered in a panic. "You're from the south."

Qingzhu looked at him for a beat, and then tapped the back of his head with affectionate abuse.

Someone managed to outshout everyone else. She was a short, terrifying woman with iron-grey hair and a steel tipped walking cane. She stumped her way over to Xia with majesty and said something that was probably kindly inspirational to her. Jisuan noticed that Xia cringed anyway, which was the proper reaction when confronted with a family matriarch, as this woman evidently was.

Xia managed to reply with an equally vulgar but strangely gracious string of dialect that Jisuan did not understand.

"Mianzhao Xia is something of an expert on southern dialects," Denglong said, from behind them. They jumped.

"Oh, sorry," he said, grinning.

"Who are these people?" Jisuan said. "What are they doing?"

"They's Mang Qiuying's family," said Denglong. "And I suspect they like her. Oh, look at her face!" He bent over laughing.

Xia at some point managed to break away to tell them that there was to be lots of food and drink for the night for some reason that she did not quite comprehend. "Denglong-di," she said to him in a whisper, while some of Qiuying's cousins practiced their attempts at Common at Jisuan to watch him froth. "Auntie Zhou won't accept any payment."

"Why not?" he asked.

"They think I've been a good influence on Qiuying, I think," she replied, with a frown between her eyes. "I don't understand."

"What, why they won't take your money? That's fairly common practice when people like someone."

"No! It's this: they're her family." She glanced around. The children who were picking the roots off fat beansprouts. A woman was shouting for someone to bring a new basket in, and a skinny man with a thin roll of smouldering paper hanging out of his mouth hauled a sack of some sort of produce in. Two burly creatures carted a large wooden slab piled with meat into the room, to the awe of everyone present. "They should be taking her side."

Denglong put a hand on her shoulder and smiled patiently at her. "Xia-jie," he said. "I like you. I like Qiuying. Shifu likes you. Shifu also likes Qiuying. If there are any so-called sides in this situation, it's quite clear they're on ours." He looked at her face, so obviously flabbergasted, and laughed. "Oh, look at you, unable to cope with gratitude. Look, I'll leave money in my room as compensation when we leave, all right?"

"No," she said. "I'd better do it. It's on my behalf that they're killing the fatted calf and everything."

"Are you sure?" Denglong asked, smirking. "It won't stop them from liking you. I think it might provoke the opposite of that. Can you cope with it?"

"Oh, shut up," Xia told him. "I know where Mang Qiuying went."

"Do you?" Denglong said, at once solemn as a judge.

Xia kept her eyes ahead. "She went to Hongmaodan."

He drew in a sharp breath. "Hongmaodan? The kingdom on the Maritime Xi Route?"

"Hongmaodan of the fragrant trees, the silver pouring off the seas. Hongmaodan of the eight-and-a-hundred thousand markets, and the never-ending summer. Yes," said Xia. "The very one. She left two months ago, after loafing around for a week and a half. She disappeared with the tide."

"You're sure it's Hongmaodan," Denglong said flatly.

"So Auntie Zhou said," Xia nodded. "You can talk to her if you don't trust my word."

Denglong sighed in frustration. "No, I'm not - Qiuying-mei always said she wanted to retire to Hongmaodan."

Xia fiddled with the hem of her veil. Somewhere nearby, Qingzhu was guffawing at another embarrassing thing he had discovered about Jisuan. "I know," she said.

After a moment, he propped his elbow on the table and cradled his chin, raising his eyebrows at her. "Shall we go by sea, Xia-jie?"

In the end, however, a report of pirates flittered in from the docks and decided them. Auntie Zhou, according to Xia, lauded their decision.

Nevertheless, when they reached the city of Sangye, it crossed her mind that it was entirely possible that Denglong had subtly manipulated things so that he could pick up new silk robes. Sangye was a town whose silk spinning was unrivalled through the entire south, and since it was a southern city, it could afford to be much cheaper than the overpriced silks in the north.

"We should converse about the transience of life," Denglong told them that night. Their inn was not far from the fight Xia had performed that day, though their reception had been unusually lukewarm. It was set between two very different districts; its east windows looked out on the claustrophobic streets of the commercial district while the west side faced wide family complexes with plots of open courtyard between the four walls of the great houses.

"Jisuan-didi," Denglong continued, extending a hand. "Loan me a brush, would you?"

Xia laughed. "He's only using us as fodder for his fresh writing silks. Don't indulge him!"

"Xia-jie," Denglong announced. "You are cruel and cynical. I merely wish for all of us to grow as better friends."

By moonrise, each of them had inky fingers and chins. The faint fragrance of wine permeated the air, and a beautiful silence had settled.

Qingzhu broke it, saying almost dreamily, "There was once a poet. And this is true: he died, a very long, long time ago. The moon was floating on the water, and he thought he should reach out to catch it before any other opportunistic person happened along. But it wasn't really the moon. It was the reflection of the moon on the water, so it could only slip between his fingers. It upset him so much that he upset the boat he was in, and so he drowned."

Silence reigned. Then Jisuan said, "Oh, wonderful, he's better at poetry than I am. You planned this, didn't you?" he accused Qingzhu.

"I think there's supposed to be a seasonal reference in there," said Xia. "No? You should throw one in to highlight how time slips through the water like fingers."

"Slips through fingers," Denglong corrected.

"Here, I'll put it in," she said, grabbing a brush.

"What've you done," he said, peering over the sheet, weighted down by four stones.

"That's a 'qiu' for 'autumn'," she said, triumphantly.

Denglong squinted. "Where's the rest of the poem?" he asked. Xia took her sheet from him and shoved it at Qingzhu.

"Fill in the poem around this word," she said.

Denglong said, "That's not 'qiu' for autumn. That's 'qiu' for 'Qiuying'!"

"They're the same 'qiu', fool," Xia said. She had put the veil back on, and the juxtaposition of dangerous Mianzhao Xia with this impression of inebriation was disconcerting. "I don't get along with her."

"Why?" said Jisuan. He tried to exchange a glance with Qingzhu, but the idiot was staring at the moon like it was about to swallow him whole.

"She's abnormally loud," Xia explained.

"Oh, don't be like that," Denglong tutted. "She's a very kind individual."

"She once kicked a man into submission and made him perform as her scribe until Shifu found out," Xia argued.

"She was always a kind person to me," Denglong corrected. He sat back and lifted his cup to the moon.

"Things are never dull around her, to be fair," Xia acknowledged

Hongmaodan was a kingdom founded along the west of Summer Peninsula, where it was always summer, as its name suggested. There were rumours that its rulers, who styled themselves emperors after the fashion of the Empire at the Centre, had begun as remnants of a pirate trade, but those could not be proven either way. In their own fashion, the Hongmaodan rulers were as respectable as they could possibly be.

It was a famous port along the Maritime Xi Route, which ran around the Peninsula from the west and up along the eastern coast of Xia's own Empire into the islands and sovereign kingdoms further east. Hongmaodan was known as a good place to find a good time. Its architecture was varied and eclectic, due to the large numbers of its immigrant population, ranging from the yellow people of the Empire to descendants of swarthy princes from the south-west and the nomad desert traders of the west. The centre of the city was the silver temple, which was also the palace. Fragrant trees were planted in its gardens. Spread out around it like glittering silver, gold, copper was the city itself. The markets, it was said, never slept. The city spilled across the land until it reached the harbour, where it met the lapis lazuli of the sea on the west.

"Now what?" Denglong asked, as they strolled, tired and sticky, along the waterfront. Over the course of their journey, they had been lucky enough to be able to ride with a merchant train that had been willing to put up with them for the addition of trained kungfu fighters, and a coveted Chuanshi artist to boot. It meant that Jisuan could sit in a caravan instead of complaining half the time about the mosquitoes and the heat. They had dropped the party off by the piers, where it was cooler.

Xia turned her face to the sea. A breeze whipped at her robes and her veil, but her hat, as always, stayed right on. "I was planning to start a fight, as always," she said. "And then I was going to tell a story."

"You think she'll find us if she knows Chuanshi representatives are in town? She might be retired for all we know; she'll want nothing to do with Chuanshi," Denglong said with a raised eyebrow. He dropped the scepticism. "Then again, Mang Qiuying is a pretty nosy person. She would be the sort of person to look people up."

"It can't hurt to try," Xia said.

SHU XIA (舒霞)
The Chuanshi legacy began long ago, when the fort of a distant relative to the Emperor was besieged with no forthcoming aid from any source. To appease his enemy, the Emperor's relative offered his daughter to the warlord in marriage.

She was not so sanguine about this turn of events. Fleeing in disgust, the young woman disappeared into the mountains of the West. There, as she slept, an old woman attempted to beat her up in her sleep and steal her food. It was a very near thing that she was not killed, and she silently gave thanks for her unnaturally swift reflexes.

The old woman noted this is surprise, and said to her, "What a fine kungfu student you'd make, if you lost a bit of weight."

The young woman looked to the old woman in askance at this, for the lady had withered away to a size no thicker than a bamboo rake, and the girl had no desire to be anywhere like as thin. She did, however, begin to think on studying kungfu in earnest. She struck a deal with the old woman. In exchange for three cooked meals a day, the old woman would teach her young protegé kungfu. The young woman took petty pleasure in stealing from the warlord, sending to her people what she could so long as her father did not discover where she was.

She was ready in a short time, as her reflexes were rapidly honed due to her failure to negotiate with the old woman a cessation of homicidal attacks on her person. She beat back the warlord and the siege with little more than her own two hands. When she had finished with that, she threw her father out on his ear and proceeded to administrate far more effectively than he ever had. When she married it was to a man who was unlikely to repeat his mistakes.

She taught her kungfu to her husband, who taught it to his pupils, and it was thereafter called Chuanshi, in her name.

In the middle of the night, Jisuan came awake suddenly. "Something is not right," he said muzzily, before he shook himself awake. The door to Mianzhao Xia's room was still shut tight. Nevertheless, he cautiously tapped on the door and peered inside. The bed was empty, and the windows wide open. He rapped his head against the door angrily and cursed.

Muttering imprecations, Jisuan stalked down the corridor. A door creaked open behind him, and he turned, hoping he had been mistaken, but it was only Qingzhu. "What's going on?" he said.

"That woman has disappeared on me," Jisuan said sourly, barely remembering he must be quiet. "I am going to follow her."

"Wait," said Qingzhu, shutting his door behind him. "I shall stalk her with you."

"I'm not a stalker!" Jisuan protested, flailing. Qingzhu smiled at him, and led the way down the narrow stairs and out through the doors. They stood beneath the open window, where Jisuan caught sight of the orange collar of her coat in the distance. "There!" he said, jabbing his finger.

The two boys hurried after her, Jisuan taking especial care to muffle his footsteps. "Why is she out here, at this time of the night?" Qingzhu wondered.

"She told me once - on the night we met you, actually - something cryptic and otherwise useless like 'people hope to test Chuanshi kungfu during the day, but only those who hope to best Chuanshi kungfu come at night'," Jisuan said. "But I don't see how that applies to Mang Qiuying since they come from the same school. What was that?"

In the distance, as Mianzhao Xia glided over the cobblestones like an avenging phantom, something had cut across her path without stopping. She gave chase at once, blurring into swiftness after the apparition.

Qingzhu glanced over at a gaping Jisuan. "Are you sure you want to follow her?" he asked. "She makes up most of the stories."

"Yes, I had realised," said Jisuan acerbically. "You kindly hammered the point through everyone's heads. But still, my task has always been daunting. It still is! But it's not impossible."

Qingzhu shrugged. "It's your chase, Kong Jisuan," he said, taking his friend's arm. They bolted after her. It was a bit painful to be dragged so fast. Jisuan felt the breath knocked out of him as he squinted against the night and pressed him lips together to prevent the wind from cutting down his throat like a blade of steel.

Before long, they had run out of city and were quietly dashing past lots of dark rainforest. Jisuan almost fancied he could see eyes peering out at them malevolently as he and Qingzhu rushed off. He was so preoccupied with the forest creatures, Jisuan did not notice where they were when Qingzhu slowed and abruptly dropped them into a halt. Jisuan collapsed against a tree, groping at it desperately.

They were on the edge of an old, empty city which the rainforest had already begun to reclaim, with grass and bushes springing untamed across what had once been a wide courtyard, and a rotting log across one corner. Vines had anchored themselves on the sides of pagodas, where roofs had slipped off, and buttress roots had erupted under some of the smaller houses, setting them at an angle. The thatching had rotted off some of the structures, leaving wispy remains and open buildings. In the middle of the overgrown courtyard stood a figure in cream and black robes, her forearms bared. She was shorter than Mianzhao Xia, probably a bit smaller than than Jisuan. Her figure was somewhat plump, and the shoes she wore on her feet were no less fashionable than Denglong's favourite pair. Half her hair was bundled atop her head, pinned and fastened into a bun of hair that poked out every which way. Her fringe fell over her eyes. The rest of her hair had been plaited into a long black rope that fell over her shoulder. There was no mistaking her stance, however; it was the mirror of Mianzhao Xia's.

"Shit," said the unknown woman. "It really is you, you old bat."

"Mind your language, Mang Qiuying," Xia said sharply, though there was a strange current in her voice that sounded suspiciously like fierce joy.

The other had clearly picked up on it, judging by the smirk that spread across her face. "Mianzhao Xia," said Qiuying. "Did you miss me, darling?"

Xia said, abruptly, "Fight me seriously."

Qiuying circled around, keeping Xia in her line of sight. "Do you deserve to be fought seriously?" she asked.

Xia bowed her head slightly, bringing her straw hat down. "With you, I should always be taken seriously."

"That wasn't working," Qiuying said, obliquely. Then she laughed, keenly. "But what the hell, eh? I guess I like taking you seriously." She pulled out a strip of white cloth and tied it over her eyes, the ends of the blindfold secured under her bun. "I challenge," she said, swinging her head up to face Xia with uncanny precision. "Mianzhao Xia, this humble student of the Chuanshi school knows how it came to be. You wanna hear it? Beat me in honourable combat."

"I accept the terms of the challenge."

The buzzing of the insects was very loud, all of a sudden, as the silence between the two combatants sharpened into tension. At an unspoken signal, they sprang into motion, the ties of Qiuying's blindfold snapping out behind her, and Xia's veil flapping in the wind. She took three paces forward, chopping at Qiuying's defences. Qiuying blocked effortlessly. Both looked entirely at ease, arms following fluid paths in an intricate puzzle of parry and attack, like an oft-practised dance. Around they weaved, back and forth a pace or two, steadily navigating over unfamiliar terrain, even across a set of overgrown steps.

"Denglong-shidi would like to take the Jingzhen Dagger back to Shifu," Xia said.

In a subtle miscalculation, Qiuying's mark was neatly deflected, and she ploughed her fist into a wall, which shattered dramatically. "Whoops," she said, ducking Xia's next blow, dropping to her palms to aim a striking foot at her chest. Xia blocked it, barely, and leapt out of range as Qiuying's other leg flew up to strike. Qiuying rolled with her kick into a crouch. Pieces of dead leaf clung to her clothes as she lauched herself off the ground to strike at Xia with doubled fists. "You have the fucking Jingzhen Dagger," she reminded Xia. "You needn't have come all the way out here."

"No, I'm only holding it for you," said Xia. Her jaw was set stubbornly, visible even through the veil, as she bowed out of the way swiftly. "You're supposed to take mine, and I'm supposed to take yours. You can't simply give me yours."

"Who said?" Qiuying demanded, as she skidded to a halt, sending bits of uprooted grass flying. A cloud of chirping crickets burst out of the way. "Who the hell decided that, Mianzhao Xia?"

"We did," said Xia, implacable.

"Maybe I don't want it that way any more," Qiuying said, punching at Xia, who ducked behind the remains of a stone wall. The force of her blow broke off a good chunk of the wall, crumbling bits of stone spraying all around.

Xia said, "Does it always have to be property damage, with you?" She circled backwards, around the other side of the wall as Qiuying advanced.

"I'd almost forgotten how fucking infuriating you are about everything," Qiuying said, teeth bared. "You never raise your voice. Your hat always stays on your head no matter the weather or the laws of gravity. You always think you know more than me. Hey, Mianzhao Xia! Fight me seriously."

She stood in the middle of the old ruins, hearing that Xia was coming from behind her. She knew, from the way the ground had vibrated beneathe her feet, that there was a network of buttress roots to her right, entangled into the stones of the courtyard, and the rotting log was near that patch of roots. In her ear, the cicadas sang.

She could feel the wind on her back as Xia drew herself up to deliver an open palm strike at her, counterweighted by her clenched fist for balance. Rather than block or strike back, Qiuying stepped out of the way at the very last moment. Unable to stop, Xia kept going, until she ploughed into the fallen log, smashing her hand into its soft, rotten centre. She hissed in pain.

"I hope you got a fistful of worms!" Qiuying shouted.

"Shifu needs you to come with us," Xia said in measured tones. "How dare you retire when he needs you?" She wrenched her hand free, and turned. "I always take you seriously."

"No," Qiuying snarled. "You do not."

They leapt at each other in a flurry of fists and strikes. Their missed blows smashed into the remains of old buildings and splintering wooden doors, shaking fern spores and bits of torn leaf into the air.

"If you took me seriously, we wouldn't be fighting all the damn time!"

With that, her fist caught Xia in the ribs, sending her flying back against a tree, which rumbled, ominously.

Qingzhu blinked, and grabbed Jisuan's sleeve. "You two need to move," Denglong said, behind them.

Jisuan squeaked. Qingzhu, who had been about to say the same, asked instead, "Where did you come from?"

As one, Xia and Qiuying realised it was the tree which was making the groaning sounds. "Ohhh, bloody shit!" Qiuying exclaimed, as she dodged left and Xia leapt to the right. The top of the tree itself caught on the branches high in the forest, but the rest of it began to break up into pieces. Some of it smashed through a pagoda, shearing half of it right off in a cloud of splintery dust.

When everything had settled, Qiuying said. "I guess that one was rotten too, what the fuck." They had some how managed to land up together, huddled against a broken carved wooden door that had once been very grand. She reached up for her blindfold.

"Don't take it off yet," said Xia. "The dust is still everywhere. Your eyes will be too sensitive."

"Oh," said Qiuying.

Xia flopped over against the wall. "We don't always fight."

"Yes, we always fucking do-- See! We're doing it right now," Qiuying said, exasperatedly. In spite of her words, her tone was somewhat fond. She leaned over to slump against Xia's shoulder. "I annoy you, you piss me off."

"It annoys me that you think you can retire," Xia pointed out. "You're not Shifu - you're far too young to retire - and you're not Denglong, because you have the aptitude for Chuanshi which he does not. You love Chuanshi."

"Denglong-shixiong's retiring?" Qiuying said, bewildered.

"No, Shifu is retiring," Xia said.

"Is that why you're so pissy?" Qiuying asked, patting her thigh. "Your foster dad's standing down? Hah. Maybe Shifu is also tired of fighting."

"Shifu is the Chuanshi grandmaster," Xia said. "Chuanshi is about more than just fighting."

"Oh, you understand that, do you?" Qiuying said, her voice heavy with irony.

Xia went quiet. "We met your family," she said, at length. "Denglong and I."

"In Longyan?" Qiuying said. "Fuck. They liked you, didn't they."

"Yes!" Xia exclaimed. "Why?"

"Because they're not smart, obviously," Qiuying scowled. She narrowed her eyes and shook her fist. "Those traitors!"

Xia looked at her in amazement. "You're not angry, are you?"

Qiuying laughed and leaned back again. "Why did Shifu ever like me? I'm too loud and too obnoxious, and I was always annoying one of his star pupils - that's you, 'cos Shifu thinks the world of you. So, yeah. Inexplicable things happen all the time! Get used to it."

"Inexplicable things like your retirement?" Xia asked.

"Oh for-- I'm not retiring! When did I say I was retiring? I just like Hongmaodan, for shit's sake!" Qiuying exploded, throwing her hands up. "Then I found out there's a nest of pirates from the Empire here. They came in strutting around with accents so proper I could have cut glass on them, and to blatantly steal things! They're northerners who thought it would be easier to make a profit stealing here! They pissed the crap out of me. Fuck them, I won't let it be easy for them."

"Oh," said Xia.

"I'm trying to look out for other things now," she said. "The future, whatever. That's why I left the Jingzhen Dagger with you."

"So... we're finished?" said Xia. "The rivalry of Mang Qiuying and Mianzhao Xia?" She sounded very tired.

"If it has to be," Qiuying replied, oddly subdued. "Argh. I don't know. I just. We've spent seven years running up and down across the Empire for at least eight-and-a-hundred thousand li trying to one-up each other. That's a long time!"

Xia looked as though she was about to say something, but there was a sudden sound in the underbrush that made them look up, Qiuying finally ripping off her blindfold. Three sorry figures emerged.

"Shixiong!" Qiuying cried, waving violently.

"Shimei!" Denglong croaked back, no less delighted. "It is good to see you, though I'm sorry I'm not really presentable."

"It's what happens when people drop a rainforest on other people," Jisuan muttered.

She laughed hysterically. "You look like shit, Denglong-xiong!" she coughed, tears streaming down her eyes. "Ahh, okay, okay, relax. I look just as bad. Let me tell you a story, mostly because I owe this woman one."

"You won?" said Xia, deliberately sceptical.

"Fuck you, I was the last one standing," Qiuying said loudly.

Zhou Qiuying (周秋颖)
I've heard that Chuanshi was first taught to a poet with whom the goddess of the moon fell in love.

The goddess of the moon, as all children know, is a healer whose rabbit distils medicine every night, pounding away with its pestle and mortar. They will also tell you, these hypothetical children, that the moon goddess is constantly fending off the the unwanted advances of the god of the sun. She formed Chuanshi when she observed two esoteric ingredients interacting below the rabbit's pestle. Watching the small explosion granted her an epiphany that such small bursts of great power would create a wonderful new form of kungfu. And she used it to turn the god of the sun away.

One night, as the moon sailed across the night, she observed a young poet on a boat observing her from afar. He interested her, and thereafter, she would look in on him every night. He was a passionate young man, as most poets are. She learnt that he enjoyed the simple things of life: clean clothing, home-cooked food, wine. In his heart burnt a loyal fire for the true Emperor. She also learnt that he was in love with her.

He sat in his boat one night, drifting across the lake. His hand rested right above the surface of the lake, by the reflection of the moon on the water. With a sigh of love, he raked his fingers across the reflection of the moon, reflecting aloud that this was the closest he could ever come to touching his fingers to the goddess of the moon.

To his shock and surprise, a reflection of the goddess, wreathed in cloud, appeared on the surface of the water, her hair twice-looped in elaborate style. She explained to him that she could never descend to earth again, but she could give him a small thing of her own, and this thing was the Chuanshi style, named for the two esoteric ingredients beneath the pestle of the moon. When she had taught him all she could, the goddess of the moon bid the poet farewell. The poet went on to teach Chuanshi far and wide, succouring the Emperor under Heaven when he was most in need.

Qiuying was silent, after Denglong explained the situation while the boys were busy cleaning up at the inn. "You don't really need me, though," she said. "I'm not going to take over, and Xia isn't going to take over. Denglong-xiong, we all know Xiang Yongchun will be Shifu's successor, unless she's declining?"

"I heard she was in Yingtao already, at his side," Denglong admitted.

"Poised to take over," Qiuying pointed out.

"He wants you there," Denglong said. "My only tasks were to find you and Xia-jie in time for the ceremonies."

Qiuying shook her head. She glanced at Xia. "Aren't you going to castigate me? He's my Shifu, I ought to be more respectful."

"Unfortunately," Xia said. "I think Shifu might even encourage you. He would also guilt you in the process, though."

"Hah," Qiuying said. "Good job he's not here."

Denglong sighed. "I can't force you, of course--"

"What if I promised to help you?"

Denglong looked taken aback. "Xia-jie?"

She was looking at Qiuying. "Considering what you said, and - everything. What if you and I stop chasing each other?"

"'Stop chasing each other'? Seriously?" Qiuying said, unable to believe her ears. "We fight all the time! We'd try to seriously kill each other in a week!"

"We do not fight all the time," Xia said stubbornly. "I'll prove it to you. Take me up on it, I dare you." She tilted her head to the side. "Are you afraid?"

"Oh, hell," Qiuying said, her lip twitching uncontrollably. "I hate you. No, I'm not fucking afraid."

"But you need to come with us to see Shifu first," Xia stipulated.

Denglong laughed in disbelief. "Are you doing this just to make Shifu happy? Really?"

"I'm very good at being self-sacrificial," Xia said. "Go on, Mang Qiuying. Take me up on it. Do it, and I'll tell you the secret of how my hat never falls off."

"Fuck," she said. "Damn it. Let me think about it, and I will tell you tomorrow. Ahh, you piss me off!" She ducked out, grinning wildly.

"I am counting on that," Xia said.

Denglong said, "I'm confused."

"I don't want to lose her, is why," said Xia. She turned to Denglong. "If you tell her I said that, I will kill you."

He thought on this. "That explains many things," he said. "But it doesn't make a single one of them clearer." Xia shook her head, and traipsed off too.

"She was blushing as she left, I noticed," Denglong said, stroking his chin. "It is not a favour she is doing us. She does not need to come with us, though in the name of filial piety she is obliged to follow." He waved off that train of thought. "It is imperative that she come with us, because Xia-jie dared her to come with us."

Jisuan poked his head in. "Well?"

"Please, come in," Denglong said expansively. "I will tell you what I think will happen tomorrow."

Qingzhu shoved Jisuan in, and sat down.

"Xia-jie and Qiuying-mei," Denglong said. "Why did Xia-jie make that deal? She no more needs to do it than Qiuying-mei needs to follow us. Hmm. It really is like that tale of the earthworm and the prawn."

"...I suppose it is," said Qingzhu cautiously.

"In that neither of them make sense!" Jisuan said. Denglong sighed and dropped his hand.

"I believe," Denglong said, with a look of deep concentration on his face, "that we will find Qiuying-mei already packed and ready to come with us. She will inform us that she has decided to grace us with her great presence and it is as a favour that she is coming with us. She will stick her hands behind her head and walk off as though she has not a single care in the world. But these will be lies." He beamed, and waited for their response.

"..." said Jisuan. "You really are terrible at telling stories."

"The worst," agreed Qingzhu.

"But I'm still right. You'll see tomorrow," Denglong said.

the end