The Unknown Arts 9: Unwind (Patreon)

Soon Gao let her start work on her own research.

Most of it was purely observational. For instance, Alchemists from the western Frostbite Peaks province had isolated an extract of frost dragon saliva. It was her job to stare at its energy patterns for hours and hours, for so long she started seeing its shape in random places, like in clouds or puddles on road. Then she tested it with a medley of fires, tossed it at some cinnabar, mixed it with saltpeter, tried to make it play nice with them in funky, useful ways.

Gao was right—research was harder work. Most of it was done on the page, scribbling formulae and energy diagrams she could scarcely comprehend—even as she invented them. By the end of a day her brain felt ready to ooze out her ears.

Her best work usually happened in a flash of inspiration. She usually didn’t remember these because they usually happened when she was very drunk or very high.

“It usually takes an Alchemist decades of hair-pulling to become as jaded a drunk as you are at fifteen,” sighed Gao as she scraped Ruyi off the floor one unusually hungover morning. “This is embarrassing. Pull yourself together.”

“‘Is working, isnit?” she slurred with a sloppy grin. Her latest publication, on novel uses of blue ginseng for hyper-fertilizing soil, had made quite a stir; one Master reviewer proclaimed her the next Zosimos. Before she’d discovered the wonders of spirit wines she’d thought she was drunk on praise like this. Now she was pretty sure no wine could compare. And in the half-a-year or so since her first drink, she’d tried most of the wines there were.

“Keep this up and you’ll be dead before you turn eighteen.”

“Pshh,” she’d said, turning up her nose. “I am immortal.”

The next day she blacked out in the middle of a brew. If Gao had not acted quickly it would have been a very ironic situation.

“That’s it!” snarled the old lady. “You are banned from further Alchemy. Fix yourself.”

“You can’t ban me from my own lab,” she’d said petulantly. At which point Mother piped in, “But I can.”

Ruyi returned to her room to find her entire stash of wines gone. Even the ones under the floorboards. She had thrown quite an embarrassing fit after that, but Mother wouldn’t budge. Not even when Ruyi directed the full force of her pout at her for all of dinner.

Lying in bed that night pouting at the uncaring ceiling, she plotted her revenge for a few hours, flopped around in self-pity for a few more, and at last arrived at a sharp personal insight.

When she’d gone into research she’d sought the thing that would make her whole. Her condition was not unheard of, but incredibly rare in humans. One day she remembered reading that families often threw babies with her defect off mountain peaks; the rest of that day was a blank spot of memory. Probably because she’d drunk herself into a stupor after that.

In half a year of research she’d found ways to make wheat grow faster, and ways to make acres of permafrost from frost dragon saliva, but on the issue of her illness she had nothing. It was like staring up a sheer cliff without a single handhold.

She’d been convinced she just needed to put more into it. ‘More’ being more alcohol. Thus far this strategy had yielded less than she’d hoped.

She groaned into her pillow.

On nights like this, lonely nights, she wished she had someone to hold. A soft warm body. A soft warm body snatched at the waist, curvy at the chest. A body exactly like Princess Song’s, in fact. The princess was quite a thorny topic for her.

On the one hand Ruyi tried not to think of her. That had been maybe the single most embarrassing night of her life. Really everyone who had witnessed her shame ought to be executed so that any record of it would be erased forever.

On the other hand, on nights like these it was impossible not to think of her. Ruyi had the princess to blame for a mounting number of ruined pillows. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be her or be with her; it was very confusing.

She couldn’t help counting the days until the next Midsummer Banquet…

There was a knocking at the window in the night.

There was someone outside.

A scream was halfway up her throat before she saw who it was.

“Jin?!”

Her brother smiled at her upside-down—upside down. Jin was maybe the most right-side-up person she knew. He made a gesture to open the window. Wondering if this was some drunken fever dream, she obliged.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Want to get out of here?”

“Where? What’s happening? Are we under attack?!”

“No, nothing like that—”

“And why are you upside down and whispering? No one can hear us. You look like an idiot.”

Drooping like the tail of a sad puppy, Jin dropped to his feet. “I thought you seemed a bit stressed. When I’m stressed I like to get away from things. Y’know.”

“You?” Ruyi goggled at him. “Sneaking away in the middle of the night?”

“I know…” Jin cringed. “Please don’t tell Father. Or Mother.”

“I thought you weren’t capable of breaking the rules. Like… Fate stops you or something.”

“Seriously?” he looked unamused. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah of course! Just, um, let me get changed.”

“Wear something dark and plain. We’ll need it for where we’re going.” He sniffed. “What’s that smell—”

“Don’t worry about it!”

***

It was annoyingly trivial for Jin to carry her piggyback. She thought he’d stop at some nearby square, perhaps the District of Wonders or the Shen family gardens, but he kept going—right up to the wall separating the Upper and the Lower cities.

She pointed this out to him nervously. Then louder when he got closer and still showed no intention of stopping. Then she was too busy screaming to protest, since he’d vaulted over it in a leap.

“What are you doing?!”

“Going to the Lower City,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s stifling up there in the Upper City, don’t you think? Everyone’s a noble first and a person second. I like it here better. It’s just people living their lives.”

“But—but this is where all the poor people are!”

For some reason this statement rendered him speechless.

“Oh, Rue,” he sighed.

“What? They mobbed us the last time we were here—they tried to kill you!”

“Some cultists tried to hurt me. Sure, there’s some bad parts of town, but it’s really not all like that. Most of it’s not like that.”

They landed gently in a quiet alley between two shambling rows of wooden apartments which leaned against each other for support.

“Just... follow me,” he said “You’ll see. Oh—and wear these.”

Two black face masks strapped on, they headed out into the streets proper.

The Main Street was strung up with lanterns which cast the cobbles in warm orange. Though it was late folk still milled about. Mostly they stumbled drunk out of pubs or slurped noodles in little late-night eateries. Farther on, a herd of old men smoked pipes around worn mahjong boards. They waved to Jin as he passed, who waved back, to Ruyi’s surprise, like they were old friends.

“How long have you been coming out here for?”

“We don’t have to talk,” said Jin quickly. “Just… look. Listen. I always like to go for a long stroll around here. It clears my mind.”

So far this walk was doing the opposite of clearing her mind. She kept glancing behind her back, off to the sides, scanning for potential rapists and murderers and thieves. If she was honest, that net caught about half the folk on the street.

“Relax,” said Jin, exasperated. “You’re safe here. I know these folk—they wouldn’t hurt you. Besides, you’re with me.”

“I don’t know,” she said, squinting. “Some of them seem pretty fishy… look! That guy!” She pointed to an evil-looking bald man with this huge scar running down his face, smoking ominously under a lantern. “He just looked at me with killing intent!”

The bald man looked quite startled at that. If he thought she wouldn’t notice he was in for a rude surprise. Ruyi Yang missed nothing!

Jin walked straight for him, doubtless intending to teach him a lesson. Then she watched horror as they embraced.

“Shan, meet my sister,” he said. “Ruyi, meet Shan. He’s a nurse in an elder’s home.”

“Heh?” said Ruyi.

“I can’t help my face,” said Shan, eyes downcast and a little watery. “Got it in a threshing accident on my dad’s farm.”

“Oh.”

“Your sister’s mean, man.”

“Yeah…” said Jin with a wince. “Sorry about that. I’m working on her.”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you I knew everyone here. It’s different here. People look out for one another. Most folk here have known each other decades—they grew up here. There’s a sense of… I don’t know… community?”

“Do they know who you—”

“Nope!” said Jin brightly. “They all think I just have a bad skin rash. This way.”

They emerged at what Ruyi initially thought was a very colorful encampment for the homeless, but then gradually realized was some kind of night market. The street was a maze of tents stuck with eye-watering banners. Here a stand roasted duck in the open air; there a tiny eatery pumped out a rice bowl every few seconds. She’d never seen Jin so happy—genuinely happy, just strolling around laughing like a normal person. This place was still grimy and weird, but she supposed it was charming in its grimy weird way.

They each bought a candy stick to slurp on. Then Jin took her up a tiny set of stairs, through a cramped tunnel, and out onto a low rooftop. From there they vaulted onto a higher rooftop, then a higher one, on and on until they found one overlooking a wide sweep of the Lower City. Ruyi had read of the great canyons of the North—she imagined this was what it looked like, but rather than stone this was made of blocky wooden tenements, and pagodas, and shops and warehouses and temples and inns and theaters and taverns, all welded together in towers which simply refused to topple, linked by rickety wooden bridges. Twinkling with lights like so many fireflies.

“How’d you find this place?” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

“A friend showed me,” Jin said casually. She sat down on a ledge--the spot with the best view. Jin flinched. “Not there! Let’s try the other roof.”

“What’s wrong with here?”

“I just… don’t like it here. Let’s go over there.”

Over there they went, sitting and talking, admiring this landscape of humanity. Somehow the conversation drifted to their dreams. It was that kind of night.

“I want to be the youngest Alchemist to synthesize the philosopher’s stone,” she said. “I want to pioneer a way of making gold from mercury. I want my name to be mentioned in the same breath as Boyuan or Flamel.”

She didn’t mention finding a cure for her condition. It was far too embarrassing.

“I think that’s wonderful,” breathed Jin.

“What about you?”

“Hm…” His eyes shone with the city lights. “I—I think I want to run a bakery. A specialty one, one that makes all kinds of fluffy strange breads. And I want to run it with someone I love. And I want to grow old with them.”

“That is the lamest dream I have ever heard.”

For a few breaths he was quiet. Then he reached over and flicked her.

“Hey!”

They engaged in a flicking war, which escalated to wrestling, which he won by virtue of cheating—that was, being much stronger—and simply sitting on her.

They were all smiley and out of breath—well she was out of breath, anyway—when an uncertain voice broke through.

“Ren?”

Jin stiffened.

There was a girl on the other side of the rooftop, striding up to them. “Who’s this?”