Ch 343 (incomplete)

Didn't round out the conclusion, but time is up. Will finish when err... well, I feel like it, pretty much. So yea. Enjoy

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rJsoodjgcgFQP_Bu1ZqAgNHFmJwFbIrUIobTWdWASr8/edit?usp=sharing

Striding through the carpeted hallway, Zian barely glanced at the palatial furnishings or opulent decor, his attention focused on the tribulations ahead. Tonight would be the most challenging night of his life and if he couldn’t triumph over this trail with grace, he should at least make it through the night with his dignity intact. His past humiliations flooded through his mind and he did his best to put them all behind him, for tonight, a new Situ Jia Zian had arrived, one who had surpassed his former self. A better, smarter, savvier Jia Zian, one ready for anything and everything the Heavens had in store for him.

Or so he told himself.

Truth be told, it wasn’t easy walking these halls, knowing what awaited at his destination. Indignity at best and so much worse should he slip up, it’d taken more than one cup of liquid courage to even make it this far, a true test of his character and resolve to not just turn around and head back to the safety of his room. What if he couldn’t resist and erupted too soon as he did so often before? He’d be sent packing in shame and disgrace at a time he could ill afford it. Jing Fei, treasure that she was, had been helping him through his difficulties, but while she proved herself an able teacher, he was an adequate student at best.

What happened to the golden child, the Situ Jia Zian who could do no wrong? The number one talent in the North, the peerless duellist and rising young dragon?

He’d been replaced by a failure is what happened, a man doomed to wallow in obscure mediocrity for the rest of his life.

The days preceding the contest had not been kind to Zian. Day after day he took to the stage, hoping to defeat some illustrious warrior and make a name for himself, but after 18 victories on his first day, the warriors of Central had wised up. Knowing they were not his match, Zian’s peers all but disappeared from the duelling grounds, replaced by seasoned thirty-something year old nobodies who gleefully beat him time and time again. Though nameless and undistinguished, those wily, shameless veterans pooled their knowledge together, exposing Zian’s patterns and weaknesses and sending only those warriors who held advantage over him. Zian’s armour, made of common steel instead of inscribed runic plate, was battered and dented all over, battle-scars from his gruelling duel-filled days, but still he fought on, facing off against fat bastards armed with massive axes or cowardly turtles hiding behind lengthy polearms. The Enemy came in all shapes and sizes, so Zian viewed it as practice to help shore up his weaknesses, but even then, losing was unpleasant.

And he lost far more often than he liked.

So not only did Zian fail to make a proper name for himself, he’d become the laughing stock of the town, the whipping boy for the Empire’s flawed and inferior warriors, using him to bolster their confidence or vent their frustrations, showing they too could match or defeat a former number one talent of the North, future Patriarch and Magistrate, and all around stuck up noble. As humiliating as their jeers were, it was nothing compared to the shame Zian felt from admitting Rain was right: One learns far more from a loss than a victory.

Unfortunately, while his Martial prowess was steadily improving, his ‘inflated’ reputation was at an all time low. While he hardly cared for some worthless peasants opinion, this put him in a precarious situation within the clan. Displeased by his dissatisfied comments and smouldering hostility, Patriarch Rang Min had taken to using Zian’s ‘disgraceful’ behaviour to discredit him among the Clan and put Cousin Gulong’s name as a candidate for the next Patriarch instead. While this was technically what Zian wanted, Mother and Jing Fei both warned him that things were moving too fast, his fall from grace far more meteoric than expected. Were he to fall too far, then Zian’s support from the Clan would all but disappear and there would be nothing keeping Rang Min from having him killed and pulling up the grass by the roots. So now, to preserve his life, Zian needed allies outside the clan, and the easiest way to find allies was to debase himself in unspeakable ways.

He didn’t want to do this, but what choice was he left with? Mother told him that if a common street whore could smile while a fat, greasy merchant grunted over her, then so too could he, a distasteful metaphor, but an apt one.

Indicating that they’d arrived, the attendant held the door open for Zian and bowed. Hesitant to step through, he grit his teeth and swallowed his pride, squinting as he stepped through the doorway and into the early evening light, dreading the next moment with all his heart. A hearty bouquet of perfumes and aromas intermingled and clashed as did the idle chatter and mood setting music, but it all washed over him and went unnoticed as his stomach dropped with self-loathing and despair.

“Zian!”

Grinning from ear to ear in what was almost a genuine smile, Rain greeted Zian like an old friend, eschewing decorum and meeting him halfway with open arms instead of waiting for Zian to approach, an honour for most but only he felt the knife twisting in heart, his most hated foe now turned into his most valued ally.

Mother above, Zian almost preferred death to relying on Rain’s charity.

Almost.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Rain said, arm slipping over Zian’s shoulders in an overly-familiar gesture. “Feels good to finally see a friendly face,” he Sent, more sullen than usual. “Not to mention an unpowdered one too. All these Central nobles cake their makeup on so thick, how am I supposed to recognize them without it? I swear if they traded hats, I wouldn’t be able to name more than three of them even if my life depended on it.”

“Mhmm,” Zian grunted, remaining non-committal. As much as he wanted to push Rain off of him, he needed the watching nobles and dignitaries to see how ‘friendly’ he was with the new number one talent in the Empire.

Oblivious to Zian’s inner struggle, Rain nattered on thorough Sending as they walked to the podium. “Fung and BoShui are already here, as well as ZhiLan and a few others you might recognize. Anyways, lets get this bothersome greeting over with.” Stepping onto the podium, Rain placed himself above Zian both physically and socially, his hands crossed behind his back and head held high as he spoke in a booming voice. “I Falling Rain, welcome distinguished guests Magistrate Situ Jia Ying of Shen Yun, Lieutenant General Situ Jia Yang, and Warrant Officer Situ Jia Zian to this banquet thrown in honour of my concubine, Zheng Luo.”

Clasping his hands, Zian nodded alongside Mother and Uncle Yang while their escorts handed over the prepared gifts, three pieces of artwork taken from Yo Ling’s hideaway. Since neither of them could sell any of their ill-gotten gains, it was all but useless decoration to Zian, so why not unload it onto Rain? Either way, Rain barely glanced at the gifts, instead hopping down to chat with Zian and his family some more, putting on a show for their watching audience. “Magistrate, Lieutenant General, its nice to see you both in this amicable setting, especially given our... rocky past.” Glancing at their gifts, he grinned and added, “Though I will say that your gifts were far more impressive the last time we met.”

Uncle Yang merely grunted, still feeling self-conscious about owing the Bekhai for not exposing his errors at the Wall, but Mother had no such qualms. With a dazzling smile, she reached out and stroked Rain’s cheek like a kindly aunt, whispering, “You audacious little brat, last time we saw each other you extorted me for almost a quarter of my wealth, yet still you dare bring it up? I should have your skull fashioned into a chamber pot.”

“So long as it is your lovely bottom which sits upon it, I can think of worse fates to endure.” Patting Mother’s hand with a smirk, Rain stepped past her to greet Jing Fei, standing behind them with her head bowed. “Ong Jing Fei, is that you? Why, I haven’t seen you in forever. I see your with Zian now. We haven’t always gotten along, and that’s my fault. I said some things in the past which I shouldn’t have, but I’m glad to see you’ve landed on your feet.” Though his smile never wavered, Rain’s eyes hardened as he whispered, “If my friend dies under mysterious circumstances, I will kill you and everyone you care about. I don’t care about evidence or guilt, even if someone else confesses to murdering him, I will still kill you. Therefore, it’s in your best interest to make sure Zian lives a long and healthy life.”

Stepping in between his quivering concubine and rival-sometimes-friend, Zian swallowed his conflicted anger and misguided affection. “This is nothing you need concern yourself with.” The words came out mild and quiet, not at all the harsh tone he expected. “She is my concubine, and as such, her fate intrinsically tied to my own.”

“Uh-huh. Does she scratch you during love making?”

“What?”

Nodding towards Jing Fei’s hands, Rain raised his eyebrow ever so slightly. “If she does, you might want to see a Healer. I don’t have any proof, but her sharpened nails are mighty suspicious. Add in the almost imperceptible quiver in her fingers and the dead skin at the base of her nails, and I’m fairly certain her nails are coated in a dye made from white snakeroot. They call it milk poisoning, not immediately deadly unless taken in staggering quantities, but it builds up in the body over time until it reaches fatal levels. Not a pleasant way to go, seizing, vomiting, and shitting yourself to death.”

Blood draining from his face, Zian turned and stared at his concubine, noting how her eyes darted about as she backed away. “It’s not what you think.” Gritting her teeth, Jing Fei lowered her head and kept her hands at her side, accepting she was trapped and showing no signs of resistance. “It’s not white snakeroot,” she said with a sigh. “It’s datura extract. Far deadlier and kills within minutes. It’s for self defence, not slowly weakening my husband.”

“Oh good, because I was totally guessing.”

Rain’s cavalier comment made Zian want to throttle him where he stood, but Mother stopped him before he could act. “Don’t be hasty,” she Sent, soothing him with a pat on the arm. “Rain did us a great service today. I also believed it was white snakeroot, but it appears the girl is less opposed to her status than it seems. Congratulations, your years of bedding every serving girl in sight has finally proven of use.”

Shrinking in mortification while inwardly swelling with pride, Zian made a mental note to be careful when holding his concubine’s hand. Taking a deep breath, he saluted Rain and said, “Thank you for your concern, but I have matters well in hand.”

Wearing a mischievous, shit-eating grin, Rain clearly had reached the same conclusion as Mother. “I’ll bet you do. My respects to a master of his craft.”

Disguising his bark of laughter as a cough, Uncle Yang patted Rain’s shoulder in false show of friendship for the watching crowd. “Enough dallying about, come, you have other guests to greet.”

“Indeed.” Standing aside to let them pass, Rain added, “Yuzhen told me about your... difficulties. Neither the Situ nor Han Patriarch received an invitation tonight, which will tell them where we stand. If you need more, speak and I’ll do what I can. You’re an asshole, but still better than Gulong, spineless, entitled little shit that he is.”

Ah yes. Zian had almost forgotten they’d met during the Contests and Rain had beaten Gulong bloody without remorse before extorting his comrades. The Bekhai respected strength and courage, and skilled as little cousin Gulong was, he’d always been a faint-hearted young man. Acknowledging Rain’s offer with a silent nod, Zian promised to return this favour ten-fold. Striding into the Magistrates courtyard, he separated from Uncle Yang and Mother as each went about their business. Gesturing for Jing Fei to stand at his side, he offered her his arm and drank in the sight of her voluptuous body squeezed into a tiny dress. “You scratch me often when we make love,” he Sent, worried he wouldn’t like her response.

“Indeed I do, to bolster your resistance to poisons.” With an indifferent shrug which did wonderful things to her bosom, she Sent, “No need to worry, the incense we use is a general antidote, though I will admit, not all my clawings are voluntary.”

“In the future, I’d like to remain informed regarding your... preventative measures.”

“As you command, husband mine.”

Making his way to where the other young talents of the Empire had gathered, Zian approached these future leaders of their respective factions with a smile, intent on using this opportunity to mingle and make friends. Many an alliance had begun as polite conversation alongside drinks, and Zian would not squander this opportunity grumbling in some corner about Rain’s dogshit luck. He needed new allies, and the easiest way to secure them was through marriage. Thus far, Zian’s precarious circumstances were known only to the Clan and few select others, which meant his dual status as both Young Patriarch and Young Magistrate made him an enticing prospect, not to mention his personal charms and good looks.

To this end, the first person Zian approached was Ryo Geom-Chi, who stood with arms crossed in front of his two sisters like a thuggish bodyguard. “You,” Geom-Chi huffed, lips twisted in a sneer. “Off with you. Neither of my sisters are interested in a playboy, dandy masochist.”

“Mind you manners now Chi-Chi.” Graceful and refined, “Chi-Chi’s” elder sister Ryo Da’in was more deadly than beautiful, though not for lack of trying. Wearing a traditional, modest silk dress, Da’in stepped to one side to greet Zian, leaving herself just enough room to draw one of three swords at her waist without injuring her brother. “Situ Jia Zian, Da’in has heard much about your exploits in Nan Ping. Tell me, what does the former number one talent of the North think of Central’s level of ability?”

To compliment or denigrate? A difficult question, and Zian erred on the side of caution. “As with everywhere else, there are exceptional warriors and mediocre warriors, though I have had the privilege and pleasure to cross blades with more than a few exceptional ones.”

“Oh?” Disappointment flashed across Da’in’s eyes as Zian’s modest response cost him her interest. “And here I thought Situ Jia Zian was a dragon among men. How boring. Leave now.”

No wonder she was twenty nine and still unmarried. No matter, there was still a younger sister. Ignoring Da’in’s offhand dismissal, Zian smiled at Geom-Chi and said, “I enjoyed our last match. We are close equals in strength and our styles complimentary. We would both benefit much from sparring again.”

Geom-Chi smirked and gestured towards his younger sister, who stood silent with a look of contempt pasted across her fair face. “Seoyoon makes Da’in seem bashful and polite in comparison.”

“Take care then.” Nodding in thanks for the warning, Zian brought Jing Fei away in search of another target, but few cared to keep him company. He met with every woman he and Jing Fei knew by name and dozens more neither had ever heard of, but each time he met with failure. Even his attempts to make small talk with his peers fell through, whether it be Tam Taewoong, Yong-Jin, Dienne, and even the lesser known warriors, none made more than a modest effort to carry on a conversation, while others chose to outright snub him. His charms and good looks failed him for the first time in his life, his stubborn, shameless display on the duelling stages making him something of a pariah in Central. What did they expect, for him to tuck tail and hide because he lost a handful of matches?

After an hour of mingling, Zian finally had to face the grim truth: no one here wanted to associate with a failed has-been. Keeping his Natal Palace a secret had cost him more than he knew, his reputation as a Martial genius now called into question. Fung and Dastan had both formed their Natal Palaces at a young age, making them the new darlings of the North and rendering Situ Jia Zian nothing more than old news.

How... upsetting.

With no one else to speak besides Du Min Yan and Mistue Hideo, neither of which were present, Zian trudged to a corner with drink in hand, wondering how much longer until Rain’s new concubine arrived. Having come to eat his food and drink his wine, it’d be rude of Zian to leave without even congratulating the new couple, though it turned his stomach to even think of. Watching Rain on the stage today had left Zian bitter and jaded, wondering what it’d be like if he were a year younger and up on that stage beside Rain. Perhaps then, Zian would be the one favoured by the Legate and throwing a banquet for his new concubine.

Hmph. Three wives already with his lustful eyes on even more, Mila deserved better than Falling Rain.

Better than Situ Jia Zian too, if he were being honest.

-ending yet to be written. sorry.