Metamorphosis

All patched up, Yang Qinghui swung by Qiong Ding Peak to pick up her disciple. Zhuang Hao came down the steps of the Peak just as Yang Qinghui clambered out of the carriage, wincing at the bruises that covered her arms.

"Ah, Zhuang Hao!" she exclaimed with a grin.

Zhuang Hao froze on the steps.

"We killed the Bashe, and Bai Zhan Peak is safe now," Yang Qinghui reported happily. "Come have some baijiu to celebrate!" She waved the jar of alcohol she'd procured (read: stolen) from Liu Qingge's reserves.

Zhuang Hao's expression turned clouded, and he walked stiffly down the rest of the steps and to the carriage. He bowed to Yang Qinghui.

"Congratulations on defeating the bashe, shizun," he said, his tone indecipherable. He straightened up, his face still tight. "Are we returning to Zui Xian Peak now?"

Yang Qinghui was puzzled by his strange behaviour, but she'd already had more than a few sips of the baijiu, and wasn't in a state of mind to question him.

"Yes, we're heading back," she replied instead. "I've got to prepare for my competition with Liu-shidi, after all."

Zhuang Hao frowned. "Competition, shizun?"

Yang Qinghui beckoned Zhuang Hao to lean forward. He didn't.

"I've challenged Liu-shidi to a poetry competition in two days," Yang Qinghui revealed with a tipsy giggle. "If I win, he has to call me 'shifu'." She dissolved into laughter, clutching her stomach.

Zhuang Hao's jaw tightened. "I see. We'd best return to Zui Xian Peak, then." He turned to mount his horse, but Yang Qinghui grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, Hao'er," she whined. "What's going on? Why are you so grumpy?"

She thought Zhuang Hao's glare might burn a hole in her skull.

"Nothing, shizun. I apologize," he said tightly, shutting his eyes. He turned away and swung himself into his saddle.

"Huh." Yang Qinghui climbed back inside the carriage and slumped onto the floor. She swirled the baijiu around in its jar, contemplative. Her psych-major brain struggled to analyze Zhuang Hao's behaviour through the fog of inebriation.

He's upset that I'm drinking, I suppose, she reasoned, and maybe because I'm playing games with Liu-shidi instead of running the Peak.

She shoved the jar of baijiu away, suddenly angry with herself.

"Starting tomorrow, I'm gonna be a better Peak Lord," she declared. "And a much better master."

Though for now… I think I need a nap.

---

"Shizun, Hao-shixiong! You're back!" Lu Ying waved exuberantly from the stone platform as Zhuang Hao and Yang Qinghui started up the stairs.

Yang Qinghui waved back with a laugh, and didn't miss Zhuang Hao's confused glance.

I guess he's not going to believe I changed for no reason, she realized as she limped up the stairs. How can I convince him…?

Lu Ying bounced on her feet excitedly as Zhuang Hao and Yang Qinghui reached the top of the stairs. She threw her arms around Zhuang Hao, who patted her head with a small smile.

"How have you been, Ying-shimei?"

"Great! I was practicing forms with the other disciples, and I found a lizard in the garden this morning."

Lu Ying released Zhuang Hao and turned towards Yang Qinghui, stretching her arms for a hug.

"Ying-shimei," Zhuang Hao hissed, warning her to stop.

Lu Ying dropped her arms, her smile fading in disappointment.

Sighing quietly, Yang Qinghui held her tongue. Better to find a solution first. Maybe if I go into seclusion for a while…

"So you killed another bashe, shizun?" Lu Ying asked.

"Indeed I did, Ying'er," Yang Qinghui said, smiling down at her disciple. "How about I tell you the story over dinner?"

Lu Ying gasped. "You'll eat dinner with us, shizun?" She seemed like she'd explode from joy.

Zhuang Hao cleared his throat, stepping forward to stand between Lu Ying and Yang Qinghui. "Actually, Ying-shimei and I have to discuss her training during dinner tonight. And you should prepare for your competition, shizun."

Yang Qinghui frowned. What's he doing? I just want to spend time with my disciples.

But Zhuang Hao's steely gaze made it clear he wouldn't change his mind.

Sighing, Yang Qinghui waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever you think, Zhuang Hao."

"But I want to eat dinner with shizun!" Lu Ying argued, pouting.

Zhuang Hao bowed stiffly to Yang Qinghui and took Lu Ying's hand, dragging her from the stone platform.

Yang Qinghui stood at the top of the stairs for several more minutes, thinking deeply. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "How am I going to fix this?"

"Master!" someone called from behind her.

Yang Qinghui turned around, and saw A-Rong and A-Tian hurrying towards her, wearing matching relieved smiles.

"Welcome back, Master," they said in unison, bowing.

"Good to be back." Yang Qinghui forced herself to smile. "Is there any dinner ready?"

"Yes, we've brought it to your room," A-Rong said, straightening up. She blanched at the sight of Yang Qinghui's ruined robes. "Would you like to change first?"

Yang Qinghui chuckled. "That would be great."

---

"So you're having a poetry competition?" A-Rong asked, combing through Yang Qinghui's hair.

"With the War God of Bai Zhan?" A-Tian stifled a giggle.

"Who knows?" Yang Qinghui chuckled. "Maybe he's secretly a master poet."

The three women laughed together, all picturing Liu Qingge's surly face reciting a flowery love poem.

As Yang Qinghui dug into her dinner, she decided she would find somewhere quiet to go into seclusion and meditate for a month or two. To all appearances, she'd emerge a new woman, a good Peak Lord and a better master to her disciples.

First, of course, she thought, grinning through a mouthful of rice, I've got to wipe the floor with Liu-shidi at that poetry competition.

---

"I'm sorry, Peak Lord Yang," Head Chef Xiong said, spreading his calloused hands helplessly. "It just can't be done! I can't prepare a banquet for half of Cang Qiong Sect in one day." Anxiously, he twisted one end of his mustache.

"Never mind all the decorations, the invitations, the seating plan, the musical entertainment…" Madam Meng, the head maid, shook her head. Her silver hairpin, holding up her greying hair, glinted in the sunlight filtering in through the window.

Yang Qinghui sighed, crossing her arms and leaning back against the kitchen doorframe. "Well, if there's nothing we can do…"

She was looking forward to the poetry competition and defeating Liu Qingge, but she also had an ulterior motive. Zui Xian Peak had a… less than ideal reputation, and Yang Qinghui's reputation was even worse. If she could make this banquet an amazing event, then maybe she could claw back some respect from the rest of Cang Qiong Sect.

But to do that, the banquet would have to be perfect.

Lu Ying sat on the counter beside her, quietly eating a steamed bun and swinging her feet as she watched the adults talk. The plans for the banquet, which Yang Qinghui had spent all night drawing up, were set on the wooden table between them.

"Unfortunately, Zui Xian Peak hasn't hosted any event in over a decade, Peak Lord Yang," Madam Meng explained. "We can begin preparations now, if you like. We'll need… at least two months."

"Tsk. It'll look bad to postpone the competition, though," Yang Qinghui muttered. "I'll look like I'm backing out."

Hang on. A thought struck her suddenly. Maybe this is for the best. If I do this competition, I'll have to still act like the original Yang Qinghui, and that's just going to get me on everyone's bad side again.

"Hmm…" She tapped her chin pensively.

So maybe I should go into seclusion now. If I could get Liu-shidi to go with me, that would work out, wouldn't it?

"Alright!" Yang Qinghui stood up straight, planting her hands on her hips. "Please start the preparations for the banquet, and send out invitations to all the Peaks. The banquet will be in exactly two months."

Head Chef Xiong and Madam Meng bowed. "Yes, Peak Lord Yang."

"I'm going into seclusion until then," Yang Qinghui added, "so I'm trusting you two with all the planning."

Head Chef Xiong and Madam Meng exchanged a surprised glance.

"We understand, Peak Lord Yang." The head servant bowed again. "We will not disappoint you."

"Huh? You're leaving, shizun?" Lu Ying mumbled through a mouthful of steamed bun, forehead scrunched in disappointment.

Yang Qinghui smiled, and gently tapped Lu Ying's nose. "Not for too long, Ying'er, don't you worry. Hao'er will take good care of you, I'm sure."

Lu Ying pouted, but accepted it. "Alright. Good luck, shizun!"

Yang Qinghui left Head Chef Xiong and Madam Meng to begin planning and ordered her carriage to be readied to head to Bai Zhan Peak.

In her chambers, A-Rong and A-Tian helped her change into training robes.

"You two will have enough work while I'm gone, right?" she asked, unwinding the bandage from her forearm.

"We can help with banquet preparations, Master," A-Rong assured her, taking a set of training robes from the wardrobe.

"Good. Could you also find me some writing materials, please?" Yang Qinghui examined her arm, flexing her fingers. All the bruising and scratches were already gone.

Huh. That salve really is efficient.

"What sort of materials, Master?" A-Rong asked.

"Just a few quills, some ink, and lots of paper," Yang Qinghui replied, throwing away the bandage.

"Of course, Master," A-Tian said with a bow. "May we help you dress now?"

The outer robe was dark blue, edged on the shoulders with silver, and reached past her knees. Her inner robe was light grey, matching her baggy pants, which she tucked into her boots. A-Tian fixed dark blue vambraces over Yang Qinghui's sleeves, embroidered with an orchid design in silver thread, while A-Rong secured a layered grey-and-silver sash around her waist.

She kept her hair in a simple high ponytail, out of her face. As she studied her reflection, she noticed her hair was longer in this world than it ever had been in her original world. Here, it reached to her mid-back even when in a high ponytail. She smiled in contentment, sweeping her hair off her shoulder, and hurried to her next task.

---

Near the forest, she found Zhuang Hao guiding the other disciples through some forms. Zhuang Hao called a break in the training when Yang Qinghui arrived. All the disciples bowed.

"Greetings, shizun!" they shouted in unison.

Yang Qinghui waved them off, purposefully strolling at an almost lazy pace. Gotta stay detached. Just until I get back.

Zhuang Hao walked up to Yang Qinghui, bowing. "Shizun. How can I help?"

"I'm going into seclusion," Yang Qinghui told him, trying to remain detached.

Zhuang Hao's head snapped up. "You are?"

Yang Qinghui nodded. "The banquet and the competition with Liu Qingge have been postponed for two months. I'm on my way to tell him."

"… I see. Are preparations for the banquet still going ahead?"

"Yes, but I've entrusted Head Chef Xiong and the Madam Meng to handle all of that," Yang Qinghui said, waving dismissively. "You can focus on the duties you already have."

And when I come back, you'll only have to worry about your own training. I promise.

"Oh." Zhuang Hao frowned, a hurt expression crossing his face. "Have I… disappointed you, shizun? I can help with the banquet – "

"It's not that I don't think you could," Yang Qinghui hurried to assure him. Stay cool, stay cool. "If you spread your attention too thin, more important things will fall through the cracks."

"…Oh." Zhuang Hao seemed unconvinced.

Yang Qinghui sighed quietly. She would handle this soon. "I'll see you in two months, my disciple. Train well."

Zhuang Hao bowed. "Good luck with your meditation, shizun."