Unease
It took a solid fifteen minutes of argument, pleading, and threats before Liu Qingge – very begrudgingly – agreed to leave seclusion early and go to Qian Cao Peak for medical treatment. He sure needed it: he was covered in cuts and bruises, and still coughing up blood. Yang Qinghui figured she'd get her arm looked at while she was there.
They emerged from the Ling Xi Caves to discover that Yue Qingyuan was away from Qing Jing Peak, so Yang Qinghui ordered the disciples to prepare a carriage for them to take to Qian Cao Peak.
"I was this close to a breakthrough," Liu Qingge complained during the carriage ride, swiping at the blood on his lips.
"And you pushed yourself into a qi deviation," Yang Qinghui reminded him flatly. "You'll have another chance later."
"Hmph." After a moment, Liu Qingge remembered, "The poetry competition is next month."
"It is. Good thing we're leaving early – now we have more time to prepare."
"What kind of poetry competition is it, anyway?"
Yang Qinghui grinned. "'Exchange of poems'."
Liu Qingge sniffed in disdain. "It doubles as a drinking competition, I assume?"
"Actually, it's one of the few poetry contests that doesn't involve alcohol."
Liu Qingge blinked in surprise.
As fun as the drinking-and-poetry contest sounded, Yang Qinghui's had made a very conscious decision. She was seen as an alcoholic, a recluse, lazy and hardly worthy of being a Peak Lord. By holding this banquet and not getting drunk, she would – hopefully – strike out two of those descriptors.
"So what are the rules?" Liu Qingge asked.
"One of us starts by coming up with a poem, describing anything. The other has to create a new poem, using the same style, metric, and rhyme scheme. That counts as one round. Then the second person gets to start, with a different metric or rhyme scheme."
Liu Qingge frowned. "How do we know who wins?"
"We each have a bowl of red bayberries, and if we both succeed in a round, we each get to eat one. If one of us messes up, the one who messed up doesn't get to eat one."
"So whoever runs out of bayberries first wins?" Liu Qingge asked skeptically.
"Exactly!"
"…"
"Liu Qingge's affection level decreased! -4 points. Current affection level: 14 points."
Sighing, Liu Qingge shook his head. "I can't believe I agreed to this."
"Can't back out now, xiongdi!" Yang Qinghui reminded him cheerfully.
---
The weather had turned cloudy and grey by the time they arrived at Qian Cao Peak. A similar stone platform sat at the top of the stairs, and a semi-circle of wooden buildings sat on the far side of the platform. To the left were sprawling gardens, and trees towered behind the buildings, branches swaying in the wind.
A young disciple hurried up to them in a panic as they stumbled up the Peak stairs.
"Peak Lord Liu! Peak Lord Yang! What happened?"
"Please just get Mu Qingfang," Yang Qinghui said with a tired sigh.
She dragged Liu Qingge across the stone platform to the buildings, as the disciple followed, wringing his hands.
"I'm afraid our shizun is away from the Peak," the disciple explained fretfully. "He won't be back until the evening."
Yang Qinghui sighed again. She knew Liu Qingge would rather keep his qi deviation secret, but if Mu Qingfang wasn't here –
The doors of the nearest building slid open with a clatter.
"That's alright, shidi," a new voice said, emerging from the doorway. "I'll handle it."
Yang Qinghui's face lit up. "Zhu-xiaojie!"
Zhu Huangu crossed her arms and looked down her nose at Yang Qinghui – which was impressive, considering Yang Qinghui was nearly a head taller.
"Fight another bashe?" she asked disapprovingly. Her green robes were simple, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She wore a white apron, and no jewellery, although her hair was in a neat, braided bun again.
Yang Qinghui grinned. "If I had, I'd have brought you its head as a gift. Bashe venom is used in medicine, right?"
Zhu Huangu raised an eyebrow. "It is," she confirmed.
"Zhu Huangu's affection level increased! +2 points. Current affection level: 8 points."
Aww, she does like me a little bit. Yang Qinghui celebrated internally.
"But we still have lots of scales from the last one you killed," Zhu Huangu continued. "So don't go killing anymore."
"Oh."
"Anyway, you're here for treatment, right? Let's go inside."
She turned on her heel and walked back into the building. Yang Qinghui and Liu Qingge followed, and Yang Qinghui slid the door closed behind her. The room smelled overpoweringly herbal, and dried plants hung from strings on the ceiling. A dozen cots were lined up against the walls, six on either side.
"Please sit here, Peak Lord Liu," Zhu Huangu said, gesturing to one of the beds. She rifled through the floor-to-ceiling medicine cabinet at the back of the room. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"I was cultivating in the Ling Xi Caves," Liu Qingge began reluctantly, "but…"
"Ah. Qi deviation," Zhu Huangu guessed correctly, turning around with an armful of salves and bandages. "You seem to have recovered well."
"He was healed in the caves," Yang Qinghui explained, avoiding mentioning Shen Qingqiu's name. "It's just physical injuries now that need treatment."
"I see." Zhu Huangu set down the salve and bandages, and half-reached towards Liu Qingge's wrist. "May I?"
Liu Qingge pushed up his sleeve and turned his hand palm-up. Zhu Huangu pressed two fingers to the inside of Liu Qingge's wrist, closing her eyes.
Her forehead scrunches up so cutely when she's concentrating, Yang Qinghui noted with amusement.
Zhu Huangu opened her eyes. "Your meridians are healing well," she said, "though it would be best for Peak Lord Mu to check you over before you leave."
Liu Qingge sighed. "Fine."
Calm and efficient, Zhu Huangu cleaned Liu Qingge's wounds, lathered them in bitter-smelling salve, and tied the bandages securely around his arms and ribs.
"Please rest," she told him, standing up with the basket of bloody cloths and bowing. She turned to look at Yang Qinghui, and added, "We'll go to the other room."
"Feel better soon, xiongdi," Yang Qinghui called, following Zhu Huangu into the adjoining room.
This part of the building was smaller – more of a storage room than anything else. Motioning for Yang Qinghui to sit on one of the low stools near the window, Zhu Huangu emptied the bloody clothes into a larger bin by the door, then cleaned her hands in a basin. Raindrops pattered against the window.
"You were injured as well?" Zhu Huangu asked, standing and drying off her hands.
"Oh, yeah. Just a scratch on my arm." Yang Qinghui shook her left arm, still finding it painless. "Nothing to worry about, I think."
"Do you realize how much blood is on your shirt?" Zhu Huangu shook her head, turning to select a salve from the smaller medicine cabinet. "Take off your robe."
Yang Qinghui raised an eyebrow, but Zhu Huangu looked over her shoulder and fixed her with an icy glare. Anything she was going to say died in her throat. Obediently, she took off her sleeveless outer robe, her left vambrace, and the left sleeve of her inner robe, until her whole arm – the bicep covered in crusted blood – was exposed.
Zhu Huangu turned back around, and paused, staring at Yang Qinghui's muscled arm.
"Zhu Huangu's affection level increased! +1 points. Current affection level: 9 points."
Oh-ho? Smirking, Yang Qinghui flexed her arm.
Face reddening, Zhu Huangu scowled and hit Yang Qinghui over the head, none too gently.
"Ow!"
"Don't do that," Zhu Huangu scolded, sitting on the stool beside her. "You'll reopen the wound."
"Sorry," Yang Qinghui mumbled, rubbing her head gingerly.
Zhu Huangu began cleaning the wound with a warm, damp cloth, clearing the dried blood away. She paused, her frown deepening.
"What's wrong?" Yang Qinghui asked, peering at her arm.
A faint scratch stretched across her bicep, barely as long as her index finger. Yang Qinghui frowned too.
"I'm sure that wound was way worse," she said.
"You were struck with a sword?" Zhu Huangu asked.
"Yes."
"How long ago?"
"Um… a few hours?"
Zhu Huangu grabbed Yang Qinghui's hand, turned her arm over, and pressed two fingers to the inside of Yang Qinghui's wrist. She shut her eyes in concentration, forehead wrinkling.
"How quickly did your injuries heal after the bashe battle?" she asked, looking at Yang Qinghui. An intense fire burned in her dark eyes – a mixture of apprehension and inextinguishable curiosity.
Yang Qinghui opened her mouth to reply, but the door clattered open. Both of them looked over in surprise.
"There you are,
Mu Qingfang
Qian Cao Peak Lord
Mu Qingfang had a kind face, though with dark shadows under his eyes. His hair was done half-up, mostly loose and flowing down his back, dripping water onto the wooden floor. His draped robes were Qian Cao green and gold, and he carried an armful of cloth bags.
Before Yang Qinghui could blink, Mu Qingfang was suddenly standing right next to her, half-blocking her from Zhu Huangu's sight, and dumping the cloth bags into Zhu Huangu's arms.
"Biaomei," he said in a forced cheerful tone, "could you please organize these supplies in the main room? I have something to discuss with Yang-shimei."
Narrowing her eyes, Zhu Huangu looked between Mu Qingfang and Yang Qinghui, who was just as perplexed.
"…Sure,
Mu Qingfang let out a quick sigh of relief once the door slid closed behind his cousin. He turned to face Yang Qinghui with a concerned look.
"It was good of you to bring Liu-shidi here," he said, "but in future, please do not come to Qian Cao Peak for treatment. I will treat you personally if needed."
"Why?" Yang Qinghui demanded, starting to get agitated. "What's happening to me? Why am I healing so fast?"
Mu Qingfang frowned, confused. "What do you mean, 'why?'" Then his eyes widened, and he went pale. "Yang-shimei… you didn't… lose your memories, did you?"
He was clearly horrified. Yang Qinghui got the feeling there was only one correct answer right now.
Forcing a laugh, she punched Mu Qingfang's shoulder. "Ha! Gotcha, shixiong!"
Rubbing his arm, Mu Qingfang stared at her. "You – "
"Of course I didn't lose my memories. Heh. You should've seen your face."
Mu Qingfang frowned, annoyed.
"Mu Qingfang's affection level decreased! -2 points. Current affection level: 303 points."
Over three hundred? Yang Qinghui was surprised. She wouldn't have guessed that Mu Qingfang and the original Yang Qinghui were so close.
Mu Qingfang turned away with a huff. "Don't even joke, shimei. If you forgot… we'd all truly be doomed."
---
On that cheery note, Yang Qinghui and Liu Qingge were ushered off Qian Cao Peak into carriages headed for their respective Peaks.
"You'll come to the banquet, right, shixiong?" Yang Qinghui asked as Mu Qingfang hastily escorted her across the stone platform. The rain was clearing up – only a light drizzle dampened their hair and robes.
"I should have the time," Mu Qingfang agreed, half-pushing her towards the stairs, where Liu Qingge was already limping down.
Yang Qinghui looked over her shoulder. Carrying a basket in her arms, Zhu Huangu was walking out of the building on the other side of the stone platform, heading for the gardens. Spontaneity seizing her, Yang Qinghui cupped one hand around her mouth and called out,
"Zhu-
Stopping in her tracks, Zhu Huangu turned to stare at Yang Qinghui. With a grin and a whole-arm wave, Yang Qinghui shouted,
"I'll see you at the banquet!"
She could see the other woman turn red even at such a distance. Zhu Huangu opened her mouth, then closed it again tightly. She marched away, disappearing into the gardens.
With a chuckle, Yang Qinghui turned back around to find Mu Qingfang studying her with a curious and thoughtful expression.
"What?" she asked.
Mu Qingfang shook his head. "Nothing. Good luck with your banquet preparations, shimei."
Liu Qingge was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the side of his carriage with his arms crossed, sporting his usual grumpy expression.
"What's up?" Yang Qinghui asked.
"I wanted to wish you luck with the contest," he said. "You'll need it."
Yang Qinghui smirked. "Oh?"
"My family is nobility. Do you really think I'm not well-educated in poetry?"
"I never said you weren't." She leaned forward with a teasing grin. "But it sounds to me like you're bluffing."
Liu Qingge glared at her. "We'll just have to wait and see, then."
Yang Qinghui lifted her chin. "I guess we will."
An uneasiness settled over Yang Qinghui on the carriage ride back to Zui Xian. Something strange surrounded the original Yang Qinghui's past: her rapid healing, Mu Qingfang's fear, Liu Qingge's comment about kowtowing, the horrible memories… Yang Qinghui sighed, irritated.
"System," she asked, rubbing her temples, "what the fuck is going on?"
"Please clarify."
"What's up with Yang Qinghui's past?"
"This quest is not available yet. Would you like to unlock it for 450 B-points?"
"How many B-points do I have?"
"B-points: 475."
"Well then obviously not." Yang Qinghui pinched the bridge of her nose. "Damned System."
This whole thing was beginning to be a lot of trouble.