The Unknown Arts 5: Early Years (V) (Patreon)

Ruyi took a written test and a practical test, and she was told she’d be mailed her results in a week.

In that time, a stranger came to visit.

It was Ruyi who answered the door. “Can I help you?”

“Rue?” whispered the stranger, removing her cap. “Is that you?”

The stranger’s eyes were almond-shaped, just like hers. They were watery as they took her in.

The stranger had curtains of straight dark hair, just like her. But this stranger’s features were refined and regal, with none of her baby fat. She looked like a queen in commoners’ garb. There was only one person she could be.

“You’ve grown so big,” said Mother with a trembling smile.

Ruyi slammed the door in her face.

***

Jin let her in. He was so quick to hug her, to exclaim his delight. Even Father embraced her with a smile—a real one—and Father never smiled real smiles.

Ruyi alone hung back, arms crossed. How long had it been—six years? It’d been nearly half her life since Mother left. She had but fuzzy memories of this woman, flashes of feeling, impressions of her laugh, her smile.

“I brought you these,” said the woman. She crossed the distance between them slowly, carefully, as though trying not to spook Ruyi. She held out a suitcase like a peace offering.

It was open. Inside were a set of magnetic balls. “You used to love playing with these,” said the woman.

“When I was four.”

“I also brought these,” said the woman, gesturing at a stack of savory flaky pancakes. “Your favorite.”

“Not anymore.”

The woman’s smile wavered, just a little. “Over the years I’ve thought of you so often, dear,” she whispered. “Yet you’ve turned out more beautiful than I could have possibly hoped. I sought out the finest Giant Spider silks to sew this for you. Will you try it on? Please?”

She pulled out a red dress, silken and gorgeous. It had the characters of her name stitched on. It must’ve taken this woman months to make.

Only when she held it up to Ruyi, they could both tell it was at least a size too small.

Somehow, the woman clung on to her smile. She had the audacity to laugh—this little forced laugh. “Though I hadn’t thought you’d grow quite this big—”

“Excuse me,” croaked Ruyi. Her throat felt very tight. She ran.

***

She locked herself in her room. She heard Jin outside, but when she screamed at him to go, he did. He was sensitive that way. He knew when she needed space, and when she said she needed space, but didn’t really.

Hours later, she heard arguing outside. Father and the woman. She caught the gist of it—

“—how could you?!”

“Shao Yang… the nerve… servants?!— guest room?!”

And Father’s weakening tries—“For her own good…push…how well she’s turning out…—”

She burst out of her room and dashed into the main hall.

There was Father, eyes cold, face blank, growing calmer as he got angrier. There was this woman, eyes flashing, teeth bared, attacking.

“Stop it!” she snapped. The two of them blinked at her, and only then did she notice the incredible tension in the room. It was easy to forget that this woman, like Father, was a warrior of Nascent Soul. When she raged the stars shivered in the air.

Ruyi stepped in front of her, arms spread.

“Stop bullying Father!”

The woman’s eyes fluttered. “What?”

“Father’s right. Why should I get what I don’t deserve? I’m happy where I am. I was happy before you came!”

She hadn’t meant to shout, but she was shouting now. “Why do you get to leave for six years, and then—then swoop in and act like nothing’s happened? Like you know me? I don’t know you! I don’t like you! You left me. So stop telling us what to do and leave us the Hell alone!”

The woman flinched—so Ruyi had hurt her. Good.

“Oh, Rue,” she whispered.

“My name is Ruyi. Or have you forgotten that too?”

She turned, marched back to the guest room—her room—and slammed the door.

***

Hours later, slicing worm larvae for a brew in her laboratory, she heard a knock. “Come in,” she said on reflex.

The woman did, hunched over, hugging herself, looking nervous. It took a lot to make a woman so tall and regal seem small and frail, but somehow she managed it.

“May I?”

“What do you want?” said Ruyi.

“I’m sorry I had to go,” whispered the woman. “I’m so, so sorry. It wasn’t fair to you—not at all.”

“You could’ve at least written.”

“My clan forbids contact with the outside world. It’s hidden in the Dragon’s Spires. The Li Clan isn’t even plotted on maps. When Father died—my father, your grandfather—I was to serve as interim head until another could be found. I wish I could’ve been here—”

“But you weren’t.”

She wasn’t really angry anymore, just raw.

Why was Ruyi acting this way? She knew she was being petulant. Unreasonable. She wasn’t a child anymore. But she spoke with a child’s hurt.

“But I wasn’t,” said the woman, swallowing. “And… and I know I can never make up for that. And for that I’ll forever be sorry.”

Her shoulders shook silently. She seemed on the verge of tears, which shocked Ruyi. Adults weren’t supposed to cry—especially not Nascent Soul warriors. It unbalanced her.

“I won’t ask you to forgive me,” said the woman. “But…can we at least try starting over?”

She looked so vulnerable then. She was baring her heart to Ruyi, showing her where to put the knife.

But how could Ruyi do it?

Ruyi sighed.

“…Fine,” she said softly. “Okay.”

They stared at one another, hesitant and nervous, like they were partners in a dance neither of them knew. It was Mother who took the first step. She took in the rest of the room and her eyes came to rest on the elixirs cabinet.

“I heard your father speak about your Alchemy,” she said. “You made all this?”

The awe in her voice warmed Ruyi.

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

Mother got closer, bent over to get a good look. “Elixir of blood-freezing, high grade… Skin tempering draught, high grade… Ruyi, this is incredible!”

You could tell she meant it.

“Thanks.” Then, quietly—“Rue is fine too.”

***

The letter from the Alchemists’ Guild came days later.

Congratulations, Ruyi Yang.

It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Board of the Alchemists’ Guild has voted by unanimous decision to grant you the title of Tier 1 Alchemist. Attached is your badge and your certificate.

This title comes with two special distinctions. The first—you are the youngest to ever attain the title of Alchemist, surpassing the record of the great Zhuangzhi by 5 years, 3 months, and 12 days.

The second—you have achieved a perfect score on both the written and the practical portions of the exam, which makes you the 38th Alchemist to ever achieve such a feat.

You should be very proud of your achievement. It is an understatement to say that we of the Board was shocked to review your results. We greet you at the start of a great career. Do take care.

Grandmaster Yin

Chairman of the Board

Upon reading the letter, Mother tackled her in a hug. Ruyi didn’t know what to do with it. She patted Mother’s back awkwardly, her arms stiff and straight, while Mother lavished affection on her.

It was like being attacked, but in a good way. She rather liked it.

“Well done,” was Father’s only comment.

Jin had taken it upon himself to bake her a cake for the occasion. Of course he made an irritatingly good one. “I knew you could do it!” he grinned.

***

When she told Gao, Gao just snorted.

“Did you ace it?”

“Yeah. It was easy as Hell. Why didn’t you let me take it earlier?”

“Because you wouldn’t have aced it earlier,” sighed Gao. “That test is meant to keep out the droolers and the knuckle-draggers. It would’ve been embarrassing if you hadn’t aced it. You’re an Alchemist now. I would say ‘don’t let it get to your head,’ but I suspect it’s far too late for that.”

“Can you stop being a cranky old crone for one moment and just celebrate with me? For once?”

“…Congratulations,” said Gao. “I’m proud of you.”

Ruyi’s cutting ceased.

“Oh,” she said. “Um. Thanks.”

“Mm. You did good, kid.”

Strange thing about compliments. She was so starved of them she’d always wanted to get them, especially from Gao—but now she got it she had no clue what to do with it. She just stood there, mouth slightly open.

Then Gao said, “Unlike on last week’s luck elixir, which was shit. Dump it and start over.”

“…Yes, mistress…”

***

The royal palace was in uproar. Mostly due to one man, the Emperor, who bounced off the walls screaming “My daughter’s an Alchemist! My. Daughter! I want it written in the papers—I want every man, woman, child, hound in the city to know!”

If he kept going, Song was reasonably sure they had no need of the papers. Give it a day and her father would accomplish it with his own lungs.

“Eh?” Father squinted at the letter. “Second youngest—second. But you beat the record by years! There must’ve been some kind of mistake. I’ll write to the guild—”

“No,” said Song with a big old grin. “There’s no mistake. She made it. I knew it!”

“‘She’?”

Sure enough, by the end of the week every major paper had printed the news. Two girls had broken the Alchemists’ Guild’s longstanding record in the same week.

One was the Princess. And the other was a certain Ruyi Yang, who the headlines insisted on calling “Sister of Hero Jin Yang!” to Ruyi’s great annoyance.

***

The biggest event of the year, every year, was the Midsummer Banquet.

It was said the Emperor splurged so much on that one night he had to tax the peasants extra in the winter. Of course he invited all the best chefs and musicians—the best lute players, the best guqin and guzheng masters and so forth—but Ruyi had also heard rumors of mad extravaganzas. Midnight fighting exhibitions. Caged dragons brought in for show. The unveiling of new and wondrous weaponry from the Artificers’ Guild.

All the nobles were invited, and most everyone came. Not Ruyi. Ruyi stayed home, which, she insisted to all who’d listen—mostly Jin—she liked better anyways.

They both knew it was a blatant lie. She loved showing off in front of people almost as much as Jin hated it. But Jin, being Jin, was too polite to call her on it.

This year, to Ruyi’s delight, Mother insisted she come. She and Father shook up the mansion with their arguing, but in the end Mother had her way.

It was to be the first time Ruyi was formally introduced to polite society. Her debut. They’d heard of her; now they’d get to see her.