14. The Crane in the Mist

Yanli had never before been so grateful to be a little too plain and a little too plump. Given her real parentage, she wondered where along the chain of ancestors she got her homely looks, but with both of the “men” of the Meng household indisposed—Lao Wang sick most of the time, and Meng Yao traveling “on business”—there were plenty of aunties in Yiling talking up marriageable prospects “for Miss Meng’s own good!!!”

Fortunately, with both boys already thirteen, the aunties approached them about it as the erstwhile stand-in Meng patriarchs. While everyone knew Wei Ying was the elder, it had somehow become common knowledge that they were fraternal twins, and that talking to one was as good as talking to the other.

And both of them absolutely did not humor any suggestions of marrying their jiejie off.

Yanli tempered their aggression simply by saying that A’Yao and “Meng YeYe” would surely make a decision on that very important issue as soon as A’Yao returned from his very important and extended business trip. Talk died down for a few days, then would start up again as soon as the weather improved and made every auntie remember their own wedding day. Yanli sincerely doubted that every single woman in Yiling had been married on a perfectly auspicious, perfectly beautiful day with perfectly clear blue skies, though.

Still, she managed to keep pushing them off with a polite “as soon as eldest brother comes home!”

What she never said, and what was never discussed even in the privacy of their home, was that Meng Yao had been gone for six months and had not sent any letters. She asked very caravan coming out from Lanling if they had word of him, or verbal messages to pass on. Most of the traders were familiar to them by then and knew Meng Yao personally, but they shook their heads regretfully. No one had seen hide nor hair of him.

Yanli feared the worst, but the boys were just confused and heartbroken.

In the meantime, she found out by accident that there was a high demand for her unusual embroidery in the cosmopolitan centers of the jianghu when two traders in town at the same time got into a bidding war right in front of her over a set of sashes. It wasn’t even her best work, but the price went up to a ridiculous amount, which she knew well enough had to be a mere fraction of what they would sell for somewhere else, or the traders wouldn’t bother. She increased her prices accordingly, much to their chagrin, and then started on more experimental pieces with even wilder color combinations. She had never been so grateful for A’Cheng’s keen understanding of color theory. The boy could not draw a circle, but he understood what made a composition stand out without being garish.

She felt quite a bit of pride about the recognition for her work, but also caution. A young, successful, single businesswoman only living with in infirm grandfather and two young brothers meant that too much attention might be drawn to the Meng household in Yiling, and not just from the gentry. Given all of that, Yanli started signing her work as “Crane in the Mist.” Creating a pseudonym was simply another layer of safety. Everyone in Yiling knew who she was, of course, but a few “casual” conversations with the oldest aunties about her concerns meant the whole city locked down on her identity.

Somehow, without even noticing, the little family she had pulled together had become fully accepted by the other families of Yiling as one of their own. She tried not to cry about it.

Fortunately for the boys nerves, Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen eventually showed up for another month of intense training. A’Cheng and Wei Ying were ecstatic to have them back, even if they were only planning to stay for a month.

Their initial slow walk through town also got all the aunties buzzing with an entirely different focus. Yanli was pretty sure Song Zichen was offered several marriage proposals almost immediately. When she asked about it later, his mouth curled down in distaste and Xiao Xingchen laughed so hard he started snorting, which set Lao Wang and the boys off until everyone but Song Zichen himself was crying with laughter.

Unfortunately, they did not bring masterless swords with them.

Xiao Xingchen glanced at Song Zichen when he said that, but did not speak further on the subject, saying only that he would explain it later. The boys were understandably saddened by the news, but picked up on Song Zichen’s displeasure and did not push for an answer.

It was several days into their visit when Xiao Xingchen sat down across from Yanli while she worked on the porch of the main hall to take advantage of the sunlight, her supplies arrayed around her. He picked up a bobbin of silk thread and studied it for a moment like it was some rare, unique treasure. Perhaps for him, it was. She got the feeling he was not actually that long off Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, with the way he treated such common items as strange and exotic discoveries.

“The old sect leader of Baixue Temple died.”

“My deepest condolences. I’m sure that was quite a loss for Song Daoren.”

Xiao Xingchen nodded. “The man was the closest he had to a father figure, from what I can tell.” He sighed and picked another bobbin, holding it up to study it with wonder. It was a sharp pink silk thread that glittered like silver in the sunlight.

“The new sect leader has a different leadership style. He is far more isolationist than his predecessor. While they have a dozen masterless blades which have been cleansed and could be passed on, he was not keen to part with any of them.”

“Oh, that is unfortunate. But I am sure he has his reasons.” Yanli bit her tongue after that and reminded herself to remain charitable.

“He does. Money.” He set down the bobbin and clasped his hands in his lap, a rare frown on his face.

“I beg your pardon?” She looked up at him.

“He wants to sell the swords to smaller sects who need spiritual weapons but cannot afford personalized, first class swords to be custom made.”

“Perhaps the sect is experiencing hard times?” She offered.

His frown drifted away and he smiled at her fondly. “You are generous of heart.”

“Ah! This one thanks you for the compliment.”

“You are welcome. It is deserved. But to your point, no, the temple is not experiencing financial difficulties. However, it seems there is the possibility of war on the horizon, and a man who is willing to be a profiteer can make a small fortune from others’ misfortune.”

He was obviously displeased with such base and unrighteous behavior, so Yanli simply hummed her agreement and picked up her work again.

Later that night, when she was alone with her family, she gave them an abbreviated explanation of why they would not get masterless swords anytime soon.

A’Cheng huffed and crossed his arms, staring at the brazier as if it had personally insulted him. “I suppose it makes sense, though. If the Wen are gearing up for a war of conquest, swords will become valuable.”

It showed both his burgeoning maturity and his grasp of the wider politics that he spoke of it that way, rather than focusing on his own disappointment. Yanli gave him a fond smile of commiseration.

“Sure enough, those fucking Wen will be messing up the jianghu. Food prices always go up during wartime, so I can’t say I blame a sect leader for waiting on the highest bidder to fluff up their coffers,” Lao Wang said, before coughing took over his voice. He still had not recovered fully from his illness over the past winter, and Yanli was worried about him lasting through another.

“I think it’s wrong! It’s selfish to hold on to weapons that actual people like us need just to make some money!” Ying’er said, aggressively tossing a soft, squishy ball back and forth in his hands. He always seemed to think better with his hands in motion, so Yanli kept a constant supply of fidget balls made ready. He usually destroyed them or lost them pretty quickly.

“It is, but it’s also not something we can comment on,” Yanli stressed, hoping that Ying’er would not say anything to upset Song Zichen.

“Yeah, but it upset Song Daoren a lot,” Ying’er said, pouting.

“It did?” Yanli asked, wondering how on earth he could even tell. The cultivator was so stoic and inexpressive.

A’Cheng nodded. “He said something about not going back to visit the temple anytime soon, then recited the chengyu about the snake eating an elephant.”

“Ooooh, not a man I would want to be on the bad side of,” Lao Wang whistled, shaking his head. “Seems like a good way to get the shit beat out of you.”

They all nodded in solemn agreement.

Yanli made a mental note to focus a bit more of their studies on politics, along with governmental affairs. If war was coming, it would affect all of them, whether they belonged to the gentry or not.

The daoren eventually left, and the boys trained harder with their practice swords and looked in the distance for the return of their DaGe. Yanli stitched and Lao Wang complained about his aching joints. It was as normal a life as they were going to get.

It was a bright clear market morning with the aunties all casually mentioning to a very annoyed A’Cheng that their son/nephew/young cousin was handsome and so, so sad to be so, so alone in the world, and Yanli was trying not to laugh.

“Are they trying to marry you off to them, or me?” He grumbled and stomped away. Yanli smiled and continued to pick through the collection of threads on display before moving on to the next stall.

“Stay close, JieJie,” Wei Ying said too casually as he looked at some brushes. He went through them quickly in his studies, as he was pretty brutal with them, no matter how often Yanli admonished him to clean them properly and stop chewing on the handles.

“Hm?” She glanced over.

“Strange men in town,” he said in a low voice, crushing one of his fidget balls in his other hand.

“Cultivators?” She asked, not daring to look around.

“No. But not good either.”

“Ying’Ge—” A’Cheng walked up, a bunch of colorful fabric and threads in his basket.

“I see them,” Wei Ying replied. “Let’s go home.”

“Perhaps lunch at the inn? They might just move on,” Yanli offered. She could tell from the way the boys looked at each other that they wouldn’t agree. Something about those strangers had them spooked. Their cultivation was high enough to sense resentful energy and killing intent, though, so she trusted their instincts. She just nodded and turned to head towards home.

None of them were surprised when the seven men showed up at their gate late that afternoon.