3. Negotiations

Yanli wondered what god she had angered. Was she paying the price for her mother’s sins? Was it unfilial of her to be angry about that? Was it possible to be unfilial to a mother who had, for all intents and purposes, been erased from history? Was she even her mother’s daughter if, officially, her mother did not exist anymore and had been stricken from all family records in both the Yu and Jiang clans?

Whatever the case, the basket she was locked inside of was rough and scraped her skin every time the wagon jostled over the road. Where it was going, she had no idea.

They had grabbed her on the edges of Yiling. It was her own fault for going so far out of the town on her own, just as Ying’er always told her not to do. But she heard that a small homestead by the river had extra chickens for sale. Her plan had been to get a layer so she would not have to buy eggs anymore, but instead, she had been grabbed by some truly foul smelling men, gagged, and shoved into a basket. That was, she thought, about two days ago. They let her out to relieve herself and give her some water and a ball of sticky rice, but never anywhere near a landmark she might have recognized.

She counted herself lucky, because at least one of the men had argued to abuse her for their own entertainment. What she did not count as lucky was why the other two men argued against it.

“She’s clearly a virgin and if we show up with her all bloody between her legs, we won’t get a good price. So shut up. I’ll buy you a night with a whore when we get our payout!”

“She’s plump and pretty, though. Come on, I’ll be gentle!”

“For fuck’s sake, are you trying to get in her pants or his? Both of you shut up and go to sleep. We get to Yunping tomorrow.”

Yunping it was, then.

She had nothing to do on the way but regulate her qi to keep her heart and lungs strong, and think about how much her brothers were panicking. She thought she should feel more guilty about it than she did, but a haze had fallen over her, a thick misery that ironically kept her from getting upset. It was less resignation to her new circumstances than it was simply an inability to care, even though deep down she knew she did care. It felt just like being in a basket: fate carried her along, and she had no say in it, not even in feeling her own emotions. She was untethered like a fallen leaf on the river.

Still, she meditated and circulated her qi. After all, she wasn’t dead yet.

When she was finally rolled out of the basket onto a proper floor, she was so disoriented that it took her a moment to gather her wits. All she could see in front of her was a truly ostentatious set of colorful robes with mediocre embroidery work along the hem. She rolled onto her knees and looked up.

One of the men who grabbed her stood there along with a very severe-looking woman wearing a very bright red lip color. The half-rate robes were hers. Behind her was a young man, possibly not much older than A’Cheng, looking very deferential as he stared at the floor.

The woman leaned down and grabbed Yanli’s chin, twisting her head back and forth. She felt like a horse at market, then realized in horror that the metaphor was accurate as the woman checked her teeth. This was the person who was going to buy her.

“Young, well taken care of. Hm. Yes, she’ll do. I won’t ask how much you paid for her.”

“A good chunk of silver, Madam.”

Yanli glared at the liar. The boy behind the madam saw her and visibly tried not to laugh.

“Meng Yao!” The madam snapped, and the boy stood up straight as a board, his expression going just as blank.

“Yes, Madam Lin?”

“Take her away. Get her fed and cleaned up. I don’t want to deal with her until tomorrow.”

“Yes, Madam Lin.” Meng Yao bowed far too low, then scuttled forward to grab Yanli’s arm and pull her to her feet. He helped steady her as he walked her out of the room, where the madam and Yanli’s kidnapper started haggling about her price.

He took her to a room that was little more than a closet with a cot shoved into it, and let her sit down on it before removing her gag and untying her hands. He stood by while she rubbed her wrists, then handed over a flagon of water.

“Thank you,” she said, after taking a very long drink.

“Welcome to the Dragonfly Shoal, Miss.” He bent into a very shallow bow.

“The Dragonfly Shoal.” Something her mother once said, caustic and brutal, floated up in her mind. “A brothel.”

He nodded. “The bathing room is busy right now, as the sisters are getting ready for opening time. I suggest resting first, and I’ll show you where to bathe in the morning. Would you like some food?”

She just looked at him, her mind blank.

“Miss?” He tilted his head and stepped closer, a look of pity on his face. “I know this is a shock. I’m sorry you are here, but I will do my best to help you adjust to your new circumstances.”

She straightened up and shook her head furiously. “My brothers—”

“They sold you?” His expression went even more pitying.

“What? No! No!” She gasped, clutching at her gown.

He shook his head. “Many of the girls here arrived the same way. It is terrible to be betrayed by family—”

He stepped back in shock as Yanli stood up to stand nose-to-nose with him. “My brothers did not sell me and if you say that again, I will slap you!” She hissed the words without thinking.

“Ah. I’m sorry, miss.” He took another step back, a bit more warily. She reassessed his age a little upwards, possibly closer to her than the boys.

“You will send a message to them.” She also stepped back to give herself some breathing room.

He shook his head. “No, I will not.” Before she could say anything else, he held up his hands. “Whether or not they were not the ones who sold you, it costs money to mail a letter, even if I offered to scribe it for you without charge.”

“I do not need your help with writing,” she snarled. Suddenly, she began to understand why her mother did it so often. Why she had done it so often.

He was unmoved by her aggression, though, and simply cocked his head. “You can write?”

She simply nodded.

“Hm. In any case, you can’t afford the cost of the ink, or the paper, or the price to mail it, or even the cost to hire me to post it for you. So no, I will not be sending a letter to your brothers.”

She felt her jaw drop. “The cost?”

“You are now the property of this brothel. Nothing is yours free and clear. The owner bought you for a price, and until you work off that price plus interest, you will have very little you can call your own.”

“What?” She stepped backwards again, her back bumping against the wall.

“You can borrow clothes and jewelry from the madam and other ladies, but then you will owe for those items as well.” He shook his head again. “It usually takes at least three years of working consistently every night to pay off enough to even start paying on your contract. That is, of course, if you don’t get sick.” He eyed her knowingly.

There was nothing she could say to that. She simply stared at him, the magnitude of her situation sinking in.

“I see you are beginning to understand.”

She nodded.

“What is your name?”

“Jiang Yanli,” she answered automatically, then cursed herself when his eyes went wide in shock.

“Oh dear.” He turned on his heel and left, locking the door behind himself.

She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor and stayed there, watching the bare candle flicker in the darkness of the closet, her mind and emotions gone clear as a stream. She had no idea how much time had passed when the door opened again.

Meng Yao was back, this time with a beautiful young woman only a bit taller than him, and slathered in entirely too much makeup. They closed the door behind them, and the woman, who was wearing pretty but obviously cheap robes, crouched down in front of her.

“Jiang Yanli? The daughter of the notorious adulteress Violet Spider?”

She nodded slowly, words failing her again.

Meng Yao leaned over the woman’s shoulder. “Mama, what do we do?”

“Nothing, A’Yao. Nothing.” His mother shook her head, and Yanli could see the resemblance, then. “If anyone finds out who she is, she will be put up for a bidding war. Every cultivator between here and Gusu will show up to fuck her.”

Yanli cringed and hid her face in her sleeves, forcing herself to keep breathing. Soft, small hands pulled her arms down.

“You’re a cultivator, correct?”

“Yes,” Yanli said with a frown. “But not a strong one. My health is such that my golden core is absorbed with keeping me well.”

Meng Yao’s mother smirked. “Then I have an offer for you, Jiang Yanli of Yunmeng Jiang.”

“You’ll help me escape?” She nearly choked on hope.

“No,” Meng Yao’s mother dismissed the idea easily. “No, that would get us all punished. What I offer you is this: my son and I will keep your secret, and you will train him in cultivation techniques.”

“Mama!” Meng Yao flushed, whether from embarrassment or surprise, Yanli could not tell.

“I would, but he’s too old, and without a solid base—”

“His father is a powerful cultivator. A’Yao has the talent, the raw talent, to be just as powerful, if he can simply get trained properly.” Meng Yao’s mother spoke fiercely, with full belief in her words.

Yanli considered the situation. Whether he could actually learn anything was far less important than their offer to keep her secret. She pushed herself to her feet, and Meng Yao’s mother followed her up.

“I agree, on one condition.”

“What is that?” Meng Shi smiled politely with the eyes of a shark.

“You provide me ink, paper, and a brush, and then pay to mail a letter to my brothers.” She glanced over at Meng Yao, whose eyebrows had shot up in surprise and possibly admiration. “And your son will post it, at no cost to me.”