11. The Daoren

When they walked the two cultivators through the front gate, Xiao Xingchen came to a complete stop, nearly causing A’Cheng (who had run to catch up with them, carrying both burgundy and green threads, of course) to stumble into him.

Song Zichen gave his partner a concerned look, then followed his gaze to the large, blooming pear tree in the courtyard.

“Who is studying cultivation here?” Xiao Xingchen asked pleasantly.

Both A’Cheng and Ying’er looked nervously at Yanli. She simply held out her wrist in the universal sign for “check my qi.” It was a little indecent for her to offer it to him, being unmarried as she was, and him not being a doctor. But she figured, needs must.

He took it gently, and she felt an incredibly pure wave of power wash over her. She stood there, dazed, thinking he was possibly the strongest cultivator she had ever met in her life, and she had met the previous Sect Leader Nie once.

“Xingchen,” Song Zichen spoke softly, his deep voice breaking the bubble of silence around them.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Miss Meng.” Xiao Xingchen pulled his hand back sheepishly. “Your golden core is doing admirable work, but you are not the one practicing here.” He motioned to the courtyard.

Catching her breath, she nodded. “You are correct. My brothers are in training. Including the eldest, who is out on business in town right now.”

Ying’er and A’Cheng took the moment to line up and puff out their chests in pride.

“How unusual,” Xiao Xingchen murmured, absently patting them on the head as he passed and strolled into the courtyard proper. “Hm. You do not have a fierce ghost here, do you?” He turned around and looked at Yanli.

She bowed, and after a beat, the boys followed suit. “No, Xiao Daoren. I apologize for the lie, but I needed to find a way to bring you here without arousing suspicion.”

Song Zichen was off to the side, inspecting the gateway and the spirit wall they had finally managed to buy the materials for a few months ago. “Feng shui,” he said simply, which caused Xiao Xingchen to start wandering around the courtyard, poking at things.

“Oh. Oh! What elegant work! Is there a feng shui master nearby?”

“I did it!” Ying’er said. “Me and A’Cheng worked hard on it!” He amended, when A’Cheng elbowed him.

“Did you?” Xiao Xingchen came back over to them. “You have a good understanding of it. I can see the array you put in.” He pointed at some rocks scattered around.

Ying’er paled. “Um.”

“Ying’er?” Yanli turned to him. “What array?”

Xiao Xingchen laughed. “I see.” He turned to Yanli. “Why did you invite us here, Miss Meng?”

She paused, thinking of explanations, but realized she had something better at hand. She looked at her brothers.

“Go and do sets one and two of the second level forms, slowly, and then repeat them as fast as you can.” She pointed at the training area, which was covered in sand and free of rocks.

They hopped to it, doing their forms in precise tandem. She saw clearly their weaknesses, and perhaps it had not been a fair request, given that they were not warmed up for it.

The daoren watched critically, with blank expressions.

“Now swords. Crane flying at night formation, then migrating carp.” They ran for their practice swords and then fell into the positions. “Good. Thank you. Now spar. First one to strike wins.”

Again, the cultivators watched with no reaction.

Yanli was so nervous about what the daoren thought that she did not even track who won, but when they finished, A’Cheng and Ying’er bowed to each other, and then bowed to the daoren.

“You are both very good,” Xiao Xingchen finally said, his expression softening. The boys lit up like the sun.

“Those are Yunmeng Jiang formations,” Song Zichen said, and turned to Yanli. She froze up. She had known they would likely recognize the style, but she did not know what they would say about it.

“Song Zichen?” Xiao Xingchen turned to him. “Isn’t that one of the great sects? Why would that be a problem? Surely those forms are common enough for this area,” He asked, obviously seeing more in Song Zichen’s expression than Yanli did.

Song Zichen never took her eyes off of her. “It is said that Sect Leader Jiang threw the bastards of his former wife into the street. No one has heard or seen them since.”

“Former wife? I thought he was unmarried and looking for a wife.” Xiao Xingchen scrunched up his nose, which Yanli would find adorable if she wasn’t so terrified. A’Cheng and Ying’er had migrated to stand beside her, both of them quiet as mice in winter.

“Mn. Both things can be true.” Song Zichen nodded, but did not explain further.

She bowed again, far more deeply, and held it as she spoke. “This one apologizes for being dishonest, Song Daoren.”

“Speak, and explain,” Song Zichen commanded.

She stood up. “We are called the bastards of Yunmeng.”

A’Cheng gasped and Ying’er’s chin went up defensively.

“We have hidden here under a false name, for our safety. Were it just me, alone, I would not care for my fate. My birth was dishonorable and my mother executed for it.”

“JieJie!” The boys yelled together, but she held up a hand to quiet them.

“But these are my brothers. They have potential, and ambition. As you can see, they are talented in their own ways, with strong golden cores. Wei Ying has a mind for talismans and tactics, and A’Cheng for maths and strategy. But they will never be taken in by a sect, because of who they are. Many will talk down about them, yet they have enough cultivator blood in them to be worthy of the title someday.”

Ying’er, fearless, stepped forward. “We are both the sons of powerful women cultivators! JieJie and A’Cheng are the children of the Violet Spider and I am the son of Cangse Sanren! Our father was Wei Changze, former head disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang and third maternal cousin of Sect Leader Jiang!” He slapped his chest.

Yanli stared at him, and A’Cheng frowned.

“No, we don’t know who my father was,” A’Cheng said waspishly.

“What? Yes, we do! We’re brothers!”

“Ying’er, just because you’re martial brothers doesn’t mean you actually have the same father.” Yanli said, her heart breaking even as she tried to be firm with him.

“It does, though! Didn’t Uncle Jiang, uh, Sect Leader Jiang tell you?” He turned to Yanli. “My father is your father, too! I thought everyone would know that by now. I mean, before I left…” he trailed off, realizing that Yanli and A’Cheng had not known that. He looked between them uncertainly.

She grabbed his shoulders. “You know this? You swear this is true?”

He nodded. “Yeah. There were letters. Remember the lightning strike? Before everything happened, while Madam Yu was on a night hunt? It hit her quarters, and one of the workman found the letters.” He looked away, his body posture closing off. “He showed them to me. He said…he said our father was a terrible person for what he did with your mother. That if I disavowed him, then Sect Leader Jiang would adopt me. He said it would be ‘righting the wrongs.’” He huffed and looked at her, eyes sharp. “He didn’t let me read all of them, but my father admitted that he was your father. Both of you. Anyway, I said no, and asked to keep one of the letters, just to have something of my father’s, but that made Sect Leader even madder and he sent me to my room. I think…I think he thought I’d be happy to be his son.”

Yanli just stared at him shock. A’Cheng was frozen, his eyes wide.

“But I’m not!” Ying’er shouted. “I hate him! I am the son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze and you are my sister and my brother! I’ll hate him forever for what he did to you!”

Yanli plopped down in the dirt, careless of decency.

“Miss Meng!” Xiao Xingchen was immediately at her side, checking her qi and heart-rate.

“We’re brothers? For real?” A’Cheng looked like he had been hit with lightning himself. “Why didn’t you say something?” He demanded.

“I thought you knew!” Ying’er said in exasperation. “I thought you just didn’t want to…didn’t want to share a father with me, or something. I mean, my dad was just a servant—”

“Shut up!” A’Cheng shouted at him, for once actually shutting Ying’er up. Then he launched himself at Wei Ying, wrapping his arms around him. “Brothers!”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Ying’er bounced around with him as they hugged each other. “Brothers!!!!”

“Miss Meng, is the boy correct? Is he the son of Cangse Sanren?” Xiao Xingchen asked quietly enough that the boys could not hear.

“Yes. This has always been known,” she said, nodding.

He helped her up, graceful as ever despite her wobbly instability at the discovery of her own lineage. She remained a daughter of Yunmeng Jiang! She was not nameless and without ancestors! It made her heart swell with pride, aligning something deep inside that she had not even realized was unsettled. There were so many questions unanswered, that might remain unanswered forever, but the whys and the hows of it were not her business, anyway. Those secrets died with her mother, like so much else. But whatever the truth was, Yanli did not have to think of herself as a bastard anymore. Never again. People could cal lthem whatever they wanted, but she knew the truth. She fought back a sob.

“Wei Ying,” Xiao Xingchen said, and the boys pulled up short in their celebrations. “Come here.”

Ying’er looked askance at Yanli first, but walked over. Xiao Xingchen looked down at him, and Yanli realized there were tears in his eyes.

“I am a disciple of the immortal master Baoshan Sanren, and your mother was my shijie. I did not know she had a son, or I would have looked for you sooner. I am so happy to find you now.”

It was Ying’er’s turn to look like he had been struck by lightning. “You knew my mother?”

“Yes. She left the mountain when I was young, but I remember her well. I am your martial uncle, if you will have me.”

Ying’er sobbed and threw himself into Xiao Xingchen’s arms.