Chapter 19: Rising Swell

It turned out that her father, and his guards, could in fact take Mei Chen.

The memory of six guards pinning her arms while another wrenched the dagger from her grip burned fresh in Xiulan’s mind. Mei Chen’s screams had pierced through the grand hall until they faded into distant echoes.

Lord Lin hadn’t even looked at her as the guards dragged her out. They’d allowed her one small mercy—a moment to adjust her robes before the walk of shame. Each step had sent waves of agony through her torn flesh as the silk clung to the fresh wounds.

The sun spilled across the courtyard stones as Xiulan passed under the ornate gate. Her personal guards formed a tight line, shoulders squared against the court assembly’s escort detail. Steel whispered against leather as hands rested on weapon hilts.

“I apologize for the trouble.” Xiulan drew a sharp breath as pain lanced through her back. “Please ensure no one enters tonight—except those from Mother’s courtyard.”

Her guards moved with practiced precision, their coordinated steps blocking the pathway. The quiet efficiency of their movements eased some of the tension knotting her shoulders. Xiulan hurried through her garden, focusing on each careful step until she reached her chambers.

Servants materialized at her door with cloth and medicines. “Leave me.” The words came out sharper than intended. She forced her breathing to steady. “Just bring tea.”

When the steaming cup arrived, Xiulan retrieved two of Jin Wei’s emergency pills. The medicine slid down with the drink, spreading coolness through her ravaged back. Even with that, she’d be in terrible shape for at least half a day.

The toxicity buildup could become dangerous, too.

The thought nagged at her as she considered how many medicines she’d consumed lately. Mortal remedies weren’t meant for repeated use. Unlike cultivators, they couldn’t easily remove toxins or buildup. But the choice between potential poisoning and immediate healing wasn’t really a choice at all.

She needed her strength to rescue Mei Chen.

Xiulan stared at an empty space on the floor. The Treasure Pavilion’s delivery wouldn’t come faster, no matter what she did. She needed more power—the lashing and Mei Chen’s capture proved that beyond doubt. Tomorrow required preparation.

The writing case clicked open under trembling fingers. She dipped the brush in ink, composing a detailed list to Doctor Jin Wei. Each stroke threatened to betray her emotions as she specified the medical equipment she’d meant to request earlier. A servant whisked the sealed message away.

Exhaustion crashed over her like a wave. Xiulan slumped forward, pressing her forehead against her forearm on the wooden table. The scent of blood—her blood—filled each breath.

Footsteps approached. “Miss Lin, please let us help you change.” The servant’s voice wavered. “The blood...”

“Leave.” Xiulan didn’t lift her head.

The footsteps retreated. The silence stretched until it snapped under the weight of her fatigue. Just a short rest. Her eyes drifted closed.

“Xiulan?” Another voice intruded on her half-sleep.

“Go away.” The words slurred together.

“Will my daughter not allow her mother to check on her?” Zhao Lian’s gentle tone cut through the fog.

Xiulan lifted her head. The sight of her mother’s concerned face shattered something inside her. A sob caught in her throat.

Zhao Lian’s gentle hands settled on Xiulan’s shoulders, massaging with practiced care. “There, there. You’re quite a mess. Come with me—we’ll clean your face and examine your back.”

Xiulan attempted to resist at first, but found herself guided by her mother’s insistent touch. “The servants will be scandalized by you attending me personally.”

“Tsk.” Zhao Lian steered her toward the bathing chamber. “The servants worry more about their young miss refusing proper care right now.”

In the bathing room, Xiulan stiffened as cool air brushed against her skin. The bloodied silk peeled away under her mother’s careful fingers, each movement precise and gentle.

“They took Mei Chen.” The words tumbled out in a broken whisper.

“I know, darling.” Zhao Lian dabbed at the crusted blood with a damp cloth. “I’ve written to Lord Lin on her behalf, though I doubt it will sway him much.”

Xiulan crossed her arms over her chest, muscles tensing as her mother examined the partially healed lash marks. “You didn’t threaten him again, did you?”

“No.” Zhao Lian sighed. “I could only praise the girl’s loyalty and dedication. Perhaps it will earn her better treatment.”

“I have to get her back.” Xiulan’s fingers dug into her arms.

“We’ll do everything possible.” Zhao Lian pressed a cool cloth against Xiulan’s forehead. “But first, you need rest and healing. You’re exhausted and injured.”

Exhaustion dragged at Xiulan’s limbs, making even the simple act of standing feel like wading through mud. The afternoon sun still blazed outside, but her body screamed for rest.

“You’re right, Mother. I need to sleep.” Xiulan swayed slightly on her feet.

Zhao Lian’s practiced movements wrapped a light silk robe around Xiulan’s shoulders, careful to not pull it tight against the healing lash marks. The familiar scent of jasmine wafted from her mother’s sleeves as she guided her toward the bed.

The silk sheets whispered against her skin as she eased down onto the mattress. Instead of leaving, Zhao Lian settled on the edge of the bed. Gentle fingers swept through Xiulan’s hair, untangling the dark strands with practiced care.

“Rest now, darling.” Zhao Lian’s fingertips traced soothing patterns across her scalp.

Xiulan’s eyelids grew heavy as her mother’s rhythmic strokes lulled her toward sleep.

The familiar comfort of vague childhood memories she didn’t remember ever happening wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

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Xiulan blinked awake in the darkness. The expected pain failed to materialize as she stretched and rolled onto her back. She stared up at the shadowed ceiling beams—the emergency pills had worked fast while she slept soundly.

Yellow light from paper lanterns outside cast dancing shadows through the window screens. Morning would bring the cultivation materials, and with it, hope for Mei Chen.

The wooden floorboards creaked under her feet as she lit an oil lamp. Its warm glow barely reached the corners of the room.

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“Miss Lin?” A servant appeared in the doorway. “Do you require anything?”

“Bring my new martial dresses.” Xiulan selected one from the stack the servant presented. “Have this dyed black.”

“But Miss Lin, dying it now would ruin the—”

“I don’t care about the quality. Just do it.”

The servant bowed. “Yes, Miss Lin.”

“Did my earlier requests arrive?”

“They wait in the main room, Miss Lin.”

“Thank you.” Xiulan strode to inspect the delivery. A heavy iron cauldron dominated the space, surrounded by precise measuring scales, razor-sharp cutting implements, and a wooden crate packed with various combustible materials.

“Move everything to the back garden.” Xiulan pointed toward the door. The open air would serve better, provided the weather held and there was no rain.

The servants scrambled to comply. Xiulan retreated to her bathing chamber and changed into her spare training outfit.

The cloth hugged Xiulan’s legs like her favorite trousers from her past life, with extra fabric that swirled around her legs. Each step brought a satisfying swish of cloth that somehow didn’t tangle itself as she strode into the back garden.

The servants positioned the last of her requested items near the stone wall.

“Leave me.” Xiulan grabbed a training spear from the weapons rack. The polished wood felt smooth beneath her fingers.

The spear cut through the night air as she practiced the basic forms. Thrust. Slash. Long Thrust. Each movement flowed into the next, just as Instructor Han demonstrated. But simple drills wouldn’t prepare her for real combat.

Xiulan launched into improvised combinations. The spear tip traced deadly arcs as she darted across the garden. She rolled through the dirt, imagining dodging invisible blades. The weapon snapped forward from her crouched position. In her mind, the guards who took Mei Chen fell before her strikes.

Sweat dripped down her neck. Her muscles burned with exhaustion. The training spear trembled in her grip. Still, she pushed on, leaping and striking until her legs threatened to give out.

Back in her chambers, Xiulan collapsed into a cushioned chair, the spear propped between her knees. Her eyes drifted shut.

* * *

“Miss Lin?” A servant’s voice pierced through her dreams. Sunlight streamed through the windows.

Xiulan bolted upright. “Tell the guards to prepare for departure.”

The servant’s eyes widened, but she bowed and hurried away.

Xiulan released a sharp breath. The time for training had ended.

Xiulan strode toward the manor gate, her steps purposeful despite the lingering muscle fatigue from the night’s training. Ten guards stood in perfect formation, their armor glinting in the early morning sun. Instructor Han stepped forward from his position at the front of the group.

“Miss Lin.” Instructor Han bowed. “What of our morning training? Does this sudden departure concern Maid Chen?” His weathered face creased with concern. “I understand your distress, but with our limited numbers, challenging Lord Lin’s authority would be—”

“Nothing so dramatic.” Xiulan cut him off with a wave. “We’re retrieving a package. One that requires swift and discreet handling.”

The tension visibly drained from the guards’ shoulders. Several exchanged relieved glances, clearly having anticipated a more dangerous mission.

“Form up.” Xiulan marched forward, forcing the guards to quicken their pace to match her stride. Their boots clicked against the cobblestones as they made their way through the waking streets.

The central sector’s main square was open, market stalls still empty in the pale morning light. A few early risers shuffled past, casting curious glances at their group. Xiulan positioned herself near the gate, scanning the entrance for any sign of movement.

“Miss Lin.” Instructor Han stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “If discretion is our goal, you standing here with ten armed guards might draw unwanted attention.”

Xiulan bit her lip. “You’re right, Instructor Han.” She turned to the assembled guards. She pointed at a random guard who snapped to attention. “You—watch for the delivery.”

She turned to look toward the center of the manor. “The rest of us can check on the woodsmen. Their courtyard should provide better cover nearby.”

The group followed her lead through the concourse. Morning dew dampened their boots as they crossed to the courtyard she remembered. Empty. Silent. A lone servant scrubbed the wooden floors inside.

Xiulan stormed through the door. “Where are they?”

The servant dropped her cleaning rag and pressed against the wall. “I-I don’t know, Miss Lin! Guards came yesterday and took them all.” She wrung her hands. “Administration ordered everything cleaned out this morning.”

Ice spread through Xiulan’s chest. The same people behind the landclaim fire had silenced the witnesses. Corruption festered while those in power turned blind eyes.

Father, do you truly not see what your new wife does? Or do you simply not care?

A sturdy wooden crate caught her attention among the scattered furniture. Xiulan sank onto it, the rough wood pressing through her training clothes. “Rest.” She waved at the guards who shifted uncertainly. “Instructor Han, send two more to watch for the delivery.”

“At once, Miss Lin.” Han gestured at two guards who departed with swift bows.

Xiulan closed her eyes, leaning back against the rough wooden crate. The steps for crafting the Meridian Opening Pill flowed through her mind—measure the spirit herbs, slice and grind them to precise consistency, heat the mixture at specific intervals. Each component required perfect timing.

“Miss Lin!” A guard sprinted into the courtyard, breath coming in quick gasps. “A cart bearing the Treasure Pavilion’s seal approaches.”

Xiulan jumped to her feet. “Move out. Now.”

The guards fell into formation as they marched toward the main gate. A simple wooden cart waited near the entrance, its driver shifting nervously on his seat. A manor official strutted toward the vehicle, chest puffed out with self-importance.

“This delivery requires proper—” The official’s words died as Xiulan stepped forward.

“The shipment is mine.” Xiulan lifted her chin. “I’ll handle this personally.”

The official’s mouth twisted into a frown before he bowed stiffly. “As you wish, Miss Lin.”

Xiulan directed the cart toward her courtyard. Each clip-clop of the horse’s hooves echoed like thunder in her ears. Her fingers twitched near where her concealed dagger was supposed to be as they passed through narrow alleys between buildings. The loss of it burned.

The tension drained from her shoulders as they passed through her courtyard gate. The driver hopped down and presented a thick ledger with both hands.

Xiulan scanned the inventory list. Her eyes widened. “There appears to be an error.”

“Error, Miss?” The driver’s voice quavered.

“This ledger shows double the quantities I ordered.” Xiulan tapped the columns of numbers with her finger.

The driver bobbed his head. “Ah, Master Qingfeng anticipated your concern. He insisted this double quantity comes at no additional cost—insurance, he called it, to ensure the best possible result.”

“Hah...” A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. “Please convey my gratitude to Master Qingfeng.”

Sweet, metallic scents wafted from the crates as the guards unloaded them. Xiulan inspected each item—the deep crimson Blood Lotus petals gleamed with vital essence, Thunder Root crackled with latent energy, and Dawn Serpent scales shimmered with an iridescent sheen.

The driver produced a silk-wrapped bundle. “The spirit stones, Miss Lin.”

Energy pulsed through the cloth as Xiulan accepted the package. Two distinct rhythms of power thrummed against her palms, resonating with something deep within. The strength of the connection surprised her. Maybe she’d get a good result from her cultivation?

“Thank you.” Xiulan dismissed the driver with a nod.

She turned to Instructor Han. “Have the guards move everything to the back garden.” Her gaze hardened. “I require absolute privacy for the next few hours. Draw steel if needed—no interruptions.”