8. Sword for a tongue

The sky that morning had been especially clear—bright blue streaked with threads of white cloud. Birds chirped outside the house. The clatter of pots and the scent of fried shallots from the kitchen floated into the courtyard.

A peaceful day.

Or so Li Sining had thought.

Until she arrived.

The sound of loud footsteps on stone. A throat cleared with theatrical volume. The creaking of a worn wooden basket being set down far too dramatically.

Sining looked up from his writing desk just as the front curtain rustled and a plump, sharp-eyed village woman entered, dressed in a worn brown robe with sleeves rolled up like she owned the place.

In her hands was a basket of eggs, which she dropped onto the table in front of him with a thump.

"Good morning, good morning," she said with a wide grin that never reached her eyes. "Came to bring you some fresh chicken eggs. You people eat too much rice—it's not good for the blood."

Sining blinked.

"Thank you, Auntie," he said carefully, rising to offer a shallow bow. "But we didn't request any—"

"Oh, don't be silly!" she said, waving him off. "We're all neighbors now, aren't we? A few eggs between families, what's the harm?"

Sining suppressed a sigh. He had dealt with merchants, soldiers, and nobles, but village aunties—especially the noisy, meddling kind—were their own species entirely.

Still, he kept his tone calm. "Please sit, I'll have tea brought—"

She flopped onto the seat without waiting, wiping her hands on her robe. "No need for tea. I came for business."

Sining raised a brow. "Business?"

The woman leaned forward, voice dropping into a tone she likely thought was charming. "You see… I have a fine young son. Hardworking. Knows how to harvest wheat, strong back, good teeth."

Sining did not like where this was going.

"He's a little shy with girls, but very obedient to his elders. And well—your second sister, that beautiful girl—Li Sihua, is it? She's ripe for marriage. And we're thinking… why not tie the knot?"

Sining tried not to choke on air.

"I appreciate the kindness," he said slowly, "but my sister is not currently considering marriage—"

"She's already eighteen, isn't she?" the woman interrupted. "What use is being beautiful if she's just eating rice at home all day? She's not even doing any labor!"

Sining's jaw tensed slightly.

"She's recovering from past injuries," he said. "Our household has its own ways."

"Recovering!" the woman scoffed. "You're just coddling her. Let her marry my son, and she'll learn to knead dough and scrub clothes. She'll have five kids before you know it—healthy, noisy ones!"

Sining kept his hands folded. His patience, however, was fraying like old thread.

"I must decline."

The woman's smile evaporated.

"Oh, so your family thinks they're better than us now? Just because you bought some land? You think you're nobles?" She snorted. "Look at you! A brother at your age, still unmarried! Living with girls! You're pretty, sure—but can you even chop firewood?"

Sining's eyes narrowed slightly.

He was still considering the most elegant way to escort her out without scandal when a voice interrupted behind him.

"Auntie," Li Siyun called sweetly, stepping through the curtain.

She looked radiant as always—hair neatly tied, a soft silk shawl over her shoulders, face calm and bright. Her smile, however, didn't quite match the softness of her voice.

"You seem lost," she said. "Is the matchmaking hall down the wrong street today?"

The woman frowned. "Ah, little Siyun! Good to see you out and about again. But don't speak rudely. I'm just here for a proper proposal!"

Siyun folded her hands. "And who exactly are you proposing for again? Your third son? The one who chased a goat into a wall and broke three teeth?"

The woman's face twitched.

"My second son," she snapped. "He's healthy!"

Siyun tilted her head. "And how would a boy who can't even tie his own waistband manage a household? Or keep pace with my sister, who reads poetry and sews in four styles?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "You think too highly of yourselves."

Siyun's smile sharpened. "Why wouldn't we? Our siblings are handsome, intelligent, and well-raised. Even our brothers cook and write better than your magistrate's clerk."

She stepped forward, voice still light, but her words now like needles. "And let's not pretend your proposal has anything to do with kindness. You heard we own land. You think we're rich. But even if we wanted to marry—which we don't right now—we'd marry up, not down."

The woman flushed red. "So now you're saying my family is dirt?"

Siyun raised an eyebrow. "I'm saying we're not vegetables to be picked by anyone who knocks on the door."

Sining, who had been biting back laughter behind his sleeve, coughed politely and looked away.

The woman rose abruptly, grabbing her egg basket. "You lot are too proud. Just you wait! When the harvest fails and the silver runs out, we'll see who's begging who!"

She stormed out, nearly knocking over the teapot on her way.

The moment the door slammed shut, Sining burst out laughing.

"That was cruel," he said between chuckles, "but precise."

Siyun dusted her sleeve. "You were trying to be polite. That only encourages people like her."

Sining stepped forward and patted her head gently. "On quiet days, you seem like the most docile of the bunch. But apparently, you're not to be underestimated."

She gave him a mischievous look. "Don't let the shawl fool you."

Later that evening, Li Sihua returned home from the forest and blinked in confusion at the gossip already circulating among the village children about how she'd rejected a marriage match "with her nose in the clouds."

Siyun simply handed her a bowl of sweet soup and whispered, "You're welcome."

Sihua didn't understand until much later that night—then decided she owed Siyun at least two new hairpins.

Meanwhile, Sining made a note to prepare a gift for the village chief.

After all, peace with neighbors wasn't guaranteed when your little sister had a sword for a tongue.