Chapter 28: Jewels

Wuyi was speechless. What did it mean to have his father’s eyebrow? People usually say one has their father’s eyes or face. This was the first time he had heard something like this, despite his experiences in two different worlds. 

“This Chao must be an eccentric person” , Thought Wuyi

Chao abruptly broke the silence. “Ah, look who’s here, Scamp, you little troublemaker!” 

A tan ferret emerged from behind a wall hanging, and Chao introduced him to Wuyi. Chao handed Wuyi a bowl of quail eggs to feed Scamp and chuckled as the small animal trailed after Wuyi, hoping for extra treats.

Chao gave Wuyi a copper bracelet that he found under the table, warning that it might turn his wrist green. He cautioned that if anyone asked him about it, he should say he had found it behind the stables.

At some point, they stopped for rice cakes. Chao had some hot spiced wine, which he decided not to share with Wuyi. They sat together at a low table on some rugs before the fireplace. Wuyi watched the firelight dance over Chao’s scarred face and wondered why it had seemed so frightening. Chao noticed him watching and smiled. “Seems ugly, doesn’t it, boy? My face, I mean.”

“Don’t stress over it, kid. Age and Poison leave marks on everyone, even on those who practice martial arts or cultivation. Unless you reach the rank of a Qi master, you’re not immune. But for now…” Chao stood up, stretching, revealing his pale lower legs. “It’s time for you to go back to sleep. Remember, all of this is our secret—the night lessons, the training to eliminate people, everything.”

“I’ll remember,” Wuyi told him.

Chao chuckled and then nodded, almost sadly.

Wuyi changed back into his night robe, and Chao escorted him down the steps. He held his glowing lantern by Wuyi’s bed as he climbed in, and then smoothed the blankets over him, as no one had done since he’d left Boluo’s chambers. Wuyi fell asleep before Chao had even departed from his bedside.

The next morning, Bangte was sent to wake Wuyi, who arose late and groggy, his head pounding painfully. As soon as Bangte left, he sprang from his bed and raced to the corner of his room. Cold stone met his hands as he pushed against the wall, but no crack in the mortar or stone gave any sign of the secret door he felt sure must be there.

Never for one moment did he think Chao had been a dream, and even if he had, the simple copper bracelet on his wrist proved otherwise.

Wuyi dressed hurriedly and passed through the kitchens for baozi and char siu that he was still eating when he got to the stables. Boluo was out of sorts with his tardiness and found fault with every aspect of his horsemanship and stable tasks.

Wuyi stayed quiet while Boluo berated him. “Don’t think that because you’ve got a room up in the fort and a symbol on your robe, you can turn into some rogue who snores in his bed until all hours and then only rises to fluff his hair. I’ll not have it. Bastard you may be, but you’re Yuanjing Xuan’s bastard, and I’ll make you a man he’ll be proud of.”

Wuyi paused, the grooming brushes still in his hands. “You mean Wangzhe, don’t you?”

His unwonted question startled Boluo. “What?”

“When you talk about rogues who stay in bed all morning and do nothing except fuss about hair and garments, you mean how Wangzhe is.”

Boluo started to speak but then closed his mouth. His cheeks, already flushed from the wind, turned even redder. “We’re not in a place to judge any of the clan’s young leaders,” he finally said. “What I meant is, it’s not good for a man, or a boy, to sleep away the morning.”

“Or a young lord,” Wuyi added, pausing to ponder where that idea had originated. “Exactly, or a young lord,” Boluo concurred, focusing on treating a horse’s injured leg in the next stall. The horse flinched, and Wuyi heard Boluo’s grunt as he steadied the animal. “I served your father personally. Even as a young man, he was honorable. He never overslept because he was out late drinking. He had a tolerance for alcohol, and he was disciplined. He didn’t need someone to wake him up; he did it himself and expected the same from his men. It earned him respect. Leaders like that are admired because they expect from their men what they demand from themselves. And let me tell you, your father wasn’t one to waste money on flashy attire.

He was at a dinner once when a minor noble from the desert region came to visit. I was seated not too far from him, a big honor for me. I overheard him talking to a woman seated next to him, who was clearly interested in the future head of the Yuanjing clan. She asked him about his thoughts on her emerald jewelry, and he complimented her.

 ‘I was curious if you like jewels since you don’t wear any. Young masters from wealthy families usually flaunt their wealth,’ she said, trying to be charming.

He responded, quite seriously, that his own jewels were just as dazzling and even larger.1

‘Where do you keep such treasures? I’d love to see them,’ she asked. He said he’d be glad to show her later that night when it was darker. She blushed, probably expecting a romantic meeting.1

He did invite her to join him on the fortress walls later, but he also invited half the other dinner guests. That time he was on the final path to reach the meteorite iron mine. And he took out his sword; when he did, his followers did too. He pointed at his sword and his followers and told her that he considered them his best and dearest jewels. He meant to make her understand that his strength, his companions, were his jewels.”4