The Fourth Stage - Chapter 16 preview (Patreon)

“Three times. I’ve fought him three times and he won’t stop challenging me,” Yang Mu complained, later that night. She waved her hand around, fan snapping open and close with each gesture. “And he’s not the only one. I’ve had fought four other duels in the last two weeks.”

“I’m sorry. They are challenging you to get to me,” Wu Ying said, softly.

“Don’t be so pigheaded.” Yang Mu spun around and pointed her fan at him. “It’s not just about you. They want to test my parents too, of course. And me, and what they taught me. Though, it’d probably be less strenuous if not for you.”

“I’m sorry…” Wu Ying offered.

“Stop apologizing!” She threw her hands up. “Did you tell them to challenge me? No? Then don’t apologise for fools.”

“I…” he clamped his mouth shut before he apologized again. “I don’t like what they’re doing. Or what you want me to say.”

“Just sympathise with me. And say things like that,” Yang Mu replied. “I don’t need you to solve my problems. I’m doing that myself and doing it well. Elder Dong will not dare challenge me again. Nor will most of the fools. Or else they’d really lose all face.”

Wu Ying shared the grin she turned on him. It was not a nice smile, but he had known that about Yang Mu. She was kind and sweet to most, but there was a predator within her. It came out when she was negotiating deals, when she was battling in truth.

“I’m glad things are settling down,” Wu Ying said. “It’s been a hectic few weeks since my elevation.”

“And yet, they are already saying you are taking too long to get settled. Such a rush for individuals who are on the path to immortality.” The last sentence was said with wry sarcasm. “But at least the lectures have been well attended.”

“You’re enjoying giving them, then?” Wu Ying asked.

“I am. The work beforehand, to develop the curriculum is helping to clarify some of my own thoughts. Simplifying it for those students in your inner sect has been quite useful.” Yang Mu smiled a little. “I am grateful that I do not have to teach your outer sect though.”

“Oh?”

“There’s little enough to learn teaching children to walk.”

“Harsh.”

“But truthful.”

Wu Ying shook his head but chose not to pursue that line of conversation. “How many do you have to do? To justify your presence.”

“There isn’t a specific number, of course. Being an ‘Honored Elder’ is more a matter of courtesy. Though if I chose to work with your Elders instead, I would assume even fewer. But I am enjoying it for now.” Eyebrows drew down, as she frowned a little at Wu Ying. “I also have to find something to do, while you ignore me.”

“Not by choice!” he protested.

“Of course not. If it was, I’d be much more upset,” Yang Mu said. “But I didn’t come here to be ignored either.” A slight beat, and then she added, softly. “Nor your parents.”

That caused Wu Ying to wince. He had yet to visit them ever since that first week, not with the need to get his own residence set-up, to sort out the servants that would be there, fill in the records and sell his resources, negotiate the use of additional fields to plant what public herbs he wished to grow, train and meet with other, older, friends.

But he also knew it was an excuse. He could have found the time. As much as he loved his parents – and he truly did – it also hurt to see them so old. To realise he had missed so much of the time between, and to understand that they would continue to age much faster than him. In the end, they would pass on and he would still exist.

More than that, it was in how they spoke, how they interacted now. Conversations that had been easy, filled with stories about familiar friends and exciting incidents were now remote to him. Boring, even, though he tried not to let it be. The importance of rain, of a weed grown or a field not properly dredged was hard for him to care about to the same degree, while his parents would be equally confused by the turns of chi through meridians or the deeper politics of the sect.

“I know. It’s just hard.” Wu Ying admitted. “We have so little to speak about. And the things we deal with…”

“Ah Ying.” Gently, she called his name. Forced him to look at her, when she paused. “You’re a fool.”

“What?”

“Your parents. They’re not just everyday farmers in your village, right? You said yourself, your mother is one of the strongest now? Just like your father?” Wu Ying nodded, though he wanted to point out that strongest was a minor thing, when they were speaking about only a couple of cleansed meridians. And in fact, the village was growing stronger, in both the better environment and the surplus of both spiritual rice and meat they were able to acquire as well as the better cultivation teachers available. Some of the children were already as strong as most adults in the village. “And they are part of the village council?”

“Yes.”

“Then, do you not think they might have insight into politics too?”

“It’s different.”

“People are people. Fighting and arguing about which field to till and what to do about a farmer whose overgrazed the shared commons is just as meaningful – for the participants – as the use of a lecture hall or the specific residence an Elder gains.” She shook her head. “You keep so much from them because you think they won’t understand, and so you think there’s nothing to speak of. Perhaps, if you spoke of it, they might be able to offer you insight that you might not expect.” A slight twisted smile. “At the least, you’d have something to speak about other than sword styles.”

Wu Ying winced, knowing that was what he had defaulted towards in most of his conversations with his father. Not that either party had much to speak about before, beyond their shared love of the sword and the work in the fields. It had not been that kind of relationship.

Except… that was not true either.

For when they had spoken of deeper matters, of fights between children and of the greater politics of the world impacting them, of Wu Ying’s rivalry with Yin Xue and his burgeoning crush on Er Ru – and wasn’t that a memory, recalling the young girl who he’d once thought he might marry – his father had offered his wisdom.

Not long diatribes, nor lectures. But simple, incisive beliefs that cut to the heart of the matter.

“You’re right. I…” he sighed. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

“What are you doing tonight, then?”

“Tonight? Me?” she looked surprised.

“Yes. You don’t think I’m going down there alone, do you?”

Looking confounded, Yang Mu brushed down her robes, looked at it and frowned. It was, in his opinion, fine. Perhaps a little stained at the corners from the fight, certainly more drab than what she wore the last time. He was wise enough not to say that though, nor was he surprised by what she said next.

“I need to change. Give me an hour!”

“Of course.” He watched as she stood up and hurried towards the door, but could not help but add, as she was leaving. “How did you get so wise?”

Yang Mu paused, turned and flashed him a wide grin as she left. “Borrowed wisdom, of course. Also, you need to speak with your martial sister.”

As she departed, leaving behind just the hint of the floral perfume she wore, the muskiness of old trees and fresh jasmines and, yes, a trace of sweat that only he picked out because of the Thousand Miseries, he found himself shaking his head.

It seemed the women in his life all had their plans, and he but danced to their tune.

***

His father was nodding along, later that evening. The night sky had darkened, such that most others were within their residences. Yang Mu and his mother were washing up after dinner, the cultivator having insisted on helping cook and then clean with his parent. As for the pair of men, they had been chased out over their protests of darkness. Now, they stood in the empty training field, a quartet of floating talisman lights illuminating the surroundings.

“Women plan, just like men their fields. But what they sow are relationships, rather than rice,” Yu Ri, his father, said. “A wise man attempts to discern their overall plan and then, if it is acceptable; allows them to guide the planting.”

“A rather cynical view,” Wu Ying said. “Not all women are like that.”

“No. That first girlfriend of yours-”

“Li Yao?”

“-yes, that one. You were thinking not, right?”

Wu Ying nodded.

“She was more direct than most, but she was a noblewoman. If you think she was not planning – even in the back of her mind – the relationships she could sow and harvest, you are more a fool than I thought.” Yu Ri sniffed. “All nobles are like that.”

“That’s not true.”

“Mmmhmmm. And what was this about the younger Wei, Yin Xue, now?” Yu Ri replied.

Wu Ying shook his head, giving up attempting to argue with his father. They had spoken about the complexities of the matter for the nobleman, how he was obligated to his Master and their strange friendship. But he also knew that his father would not change his mind. And why would he? His own experiences had been shaped by his time in the army and Lord Wei, both of which had been a true one-sided relationship in many ways.

“Where is she, anyway?” Yu Ri asked, curiously.

“Li Yao?” Wu Ying said. When his father nodded, Wu Ying smiled a little. “Up north. She left the sect a while ago. Not officially, of course, but she’s taking care of her family’s estates. I understand she’s done well for herself, even with all the trouble and all those desiring the silver mines.”

“Good, good. You have a good group of friends, really,” Yu Ri said. “Loyal and smart. And ambitious.”

“Mostly. The ones that survived.” Wu Ying grimaced, remembering a mohawked cultivator. But he knew he was lucky. So many failed and fell by the way side, in the Jianghu. Survival and progress was never promised, and that the majority had continued on was of the greatest fortune. Even if others, like Hei Mao or Chao Kun had fallen or been lost in their travels.

Turning a little, Wu Ying eyed the training field. Not that it was much of one. Just a flat piece of land, rather rocky and sandy, with the rocks found in other fields taken here and crushed down. It – mostly – left a relatively flat area of land that was harder to wash away, especially when mixed with the clay that was part of this portion of earth.

In the far corner were a couple of training buttes, deep gouges along the sides where swords and spears had been wielded against the dummies. In another corner, shortened plum blossom stands stood, none of them taller than a few feet. Nothing dangerous, but useful for training footwork and balance for new students.

Otherwise, the training field was empty. Just a piece of land where a large group of students could be taught. Even so, Wu Ying envied them. It was more than he had when he trained with his father so many years ago.

That thought led to another, and he found himself speaking before he knew it. “How do you choose?”

“Choose what, Ah Ying?”

“Students. All of them must want to work with you. How do you choose which ones are worth spending your time with?” he said.

Yu Ri gave Wu Ying a wry look, then spoke slowly. “Do you want the philosophical answer, or the practical one?”

“They’re different?”

“Very much so.”

“Then, both.”

His father paused, visibly composing the words in his mind before he spoke. “Philosophically, as a teacher, it is not your place to choose students. Your role as a teacher is to encourage, push, prod and otherwise pull your students to the highest level they believe they can achieve. And then, to make them better.”

“Philosophically.”

Yu Ri nodded. “Some of your students will complain. They will whine about waking up early, they will not want to practice their forms, they will not understand why they are repeating the same motion over and over again a thousand times. As a teacher, you need to ignore that and find the truth of their souls, the motivations that drive them and let them improve themselves. And when that fails, you are to push them, even when they refuse.”

Now, wasn’t that a close strike to the heart. Wu Ying offered a slightly guilty smile, his father returning it as he continued. “But, that level of effort, that level of encouragement – it will drain you. Some are geared towards it. For everyone.”

“Teacher Su.” Wu Ying named his old cultivation teacher who always seemed to have infinite patience for them, even as he wielded the cane and his sharp tongue in equal measure.

“Yes. Others, like myself, have not the patience for everyone. We can encourage those we care about, and practically, we offer the chance. But only those who truly care, who are motivated enough to continue, are pushed. Those, we devote the majority of time too.”

“Yet, some might have the skill, the ability to push ahead, to become prodigies or at least improve themselves.” Wu Ying said slowly, recalling himself in those words. But not just him, but Pan Chen who loved the sword but also hated how it constrained his existence and whose own talent had dictated his future. He also remembered the boy he taught, the Body Cultivator whose talent had placed him on the path of the sword and the pathway to being a hero for those beneath.

“Yes. And thus the duality of the problem.” Yi Ru smiled. “Though your problem is simpler.”

“Oh?”

“Children who refuse to learn must be taught better. They are, after all, children.” Wu Ying nodded. “But you’re not teaching children.”

A long pause, then Wu Ying chuckled at his own foolishness. Sometimes, the simplest solution was the most obvious. And for all his desire to be fair, his father was right.

He did not teach children.