Taking slow, deep breaths to calm her racing heart, Luo-Luo thanked the Mother above as reason prevailed and dinner resumed without a hitch. No one seemed to pay any mind to the disturbance and they picked up right where they left off before Mila’s outburst of scathing criticisms. The Medical Saint’s vegetables were left uneaten and he went back to arguing with the Divine Blacksmith about their latest chess match. Tali continued narrating her most recent adventure at the docks for Yan’s listening pleasure. Beside them, Ser Charok explained the intricacies of the soup’s subtle flavours to an inattentive Kyung while an aggrieved Tate choked down his vegetables under his father’s watchful eye. With cheeks matching her hair, Mila threw back a cup of wine and scowled at the empty vessel, angered by its tiny size and inability to slake her prodigious thirst.
And throughout this all, the devious mastermind behind tonight’s events sat with a pleased smile stretched across her fair face, patting Mila’s arm and filling her cup once again in hopes of more excitement.
Then again, perhaps Luo-Luo gave Lin-Lin too much credit and blamed her unjustly. Though impulsive and mischievous to the extreme, the troublesome half-hare wasn’t some harbinger of chaos manipulating events with her underhanded schemes, and even if she were, she couldn’t possibly have foreseen this outcome when plying Mila with drink. Who could have expected the fiery redhead to erupt amidst their celebratory meal? Truth be told, Luo-Luo wouldn’t have minded too much if someone ruined their meal with a brawl, but the sentiment was merely her being petty and mean-spirited. Yan’s safe return should be a cause for celebration, for it was a triumphant return from carrying out her sacred duty and defending the borders of the Empire from the hateful Enemy, a task which deserved, nay demanded the respect and admiration of nobles and citizens alike.
Respect and admiration which she freely gave, but Luo-Luo would be perfectly content if Yan returned to the front lines forthwith. Alas, the half-deer beauty let slip she would stay in SuiHua for an indeterminate amount of time, and now Luo-Luo’s plans to seduce Lord Husband when he returned were no longer viable, not with that horned hussy so eager to jump in his bed...
Though still yet to eat her fill, Luo-Luo fiddled with her chopsticks and sat in self-conscious insecurity, unsure how to proceed without drawing Mila’s drunken ire. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to slurp her soup or eat with her hands and went to bed hungry, where she tossed and turned for hours while worrying she’d have to eat all her future meals in private, or at least out of Mila’s vision. How was Luo-Luo even supposed to eat ‘less formally’? Was having decent manners really so terrible? It’s not as if she insisted everyone else follow suit and she was careful never to chastise or show disapproval with anyone else’s manners. Luo-Luo merely ate her meals the way she’d been taught to, with small, measured mouthfuls and slow, graceful movements in a neat and orderly fashion.
A gluttonous woman was shameful at best and revolting at worst, both cardinal sins for a concubine reliant on her Lord Husband’s affection and good graces.
It felt like Luo-Luo had just closed her eyes when Sorya shook her awake. “Lady Luo-Luo. Lady Luo-Luo. You must wake up.”
“Leave me alone...”
“I would, but Lady Sumila is at the door.”
“I don’t care, let me – What?” Bolting upright in alarm, Luo-Luo scrambled to her feet and made sure her hair and nightgown were presentable before going to receive Mila herself. Opening the door wide, Luo-Luo curtsied and said, “Please, enter and be welcome. Luo-Luo hopes she didn’t keep Sister Mila waiting too long.”
“Not at all.” As Luo-Luo moved to close the door behind her, she jumped away and choked back a scream at the sight of Mila’s unexpected entourage. With his paws digging into her shoulders and hips, one bear clung tightly to Mila’s back while another ambled along behind her, their mouths half-opened as they sniffed and stared at the fragrant trays of food in her hands. “Papa told me to take the day off, so I thought we could have breakfast together,” the bear-toting beauty announced. “Sorya, Anrhi, why don’t you take the morning off and leave Luo-Luo and I to chat.”
Though posed as a question, Mila’s delivery made it anything but. Luo-Luo’s (usually) loyal handmaidens scurried away without so much as a ‘by your leave’, leaving her alone and helpless before Mila and two ferocious black bears. Well... ferocious might be overstating the facts, but regardless of how graceless or inept they seemed, the bears and wildcats were still feral creatures, ones who needed to be restrained before they hurt someone. Every time Tali or Tate ran towards the animals, Luo-Luo’s heart seized in her chest and she had to stop herself from diving in front of the children, wholly expecting things to go terribly, terribly wrong.
Frozen in a combination of fear, shock, and drowsiness, Luo-Luo stayed by the door until Mila called for her again. “Luo-Luo, come eat,” she said, patting the seat directly beside her.
One half of Luo-Luo’s mind was appalled she’d let Mila set the table by herself and the other half was afraid because she’d have to pass by both bears to get to her seat. “Sister Mila, if you could... the bears...”
“Hmph.” The cold snort sent shivers down Luo-Luo’s spine and she pulled her nightgown closed, though it proved lacklustre defence against Mila’s fearsome glare. “You call me sister,” she said, her tone clipped and hostile, “Yet you don’t trust me to protect you? Sit. On my life, the bears will cause you no harm. I could even swear an Oath, if you’d like.”
“No Sister, this one doesn’t dare accept.” Unable to delay any longer, Luo-Luo stepped around the patrolling bears and took her seat, whimpering audibly as they shuffled over to sniff her. Emboldened by her lack of resistance, one even stood on its hind legs and licked her cheek, likely checking if she suited his tastes.
Thankfully, Sister Mila fended him off with a light swat and a stern grunt. “Ignore them,” she said, giving Luo-Luo’s back a reassuring pat. “They’re harmless and you’ve nothing to be afraid of. You’ve been practising your Forms everyday like I asked you to, right?” Luo-Luo nodded, though she had yet to note any progress after two months of daily practice, time which could be better spent on almost anything else. “Well, then you could probably beat them both with one hand tied behind your back. Calm down, I won’t make you try, so ignore them and eat.” A massive meat bun in hand, Mila bit into it with gusto and gestured for Luo-Luo to do the same.
Taking solace in Mila’s strong presence, Luo-Luo steeled her nerves and reached for her chopsticks, but froze once again when she realized there were none to be had. In fact, there were no utensils at all, not even a spoon or knife, and it took Luo-Luo’s fear-addled mind many seconds to understand why. Meat buns, dough fritters, pan-fried wraps, and even bowls of soup, everything on the table could be eaten by hand, though Luo-Luo had never dared do so. One could not daintily slurp or delicately nibble the foods laid out before her, not to mention all the oil and sauces she’d get on her hands, face, or clothes, a fatal blunder for a woman of her precarious standing.
What if Lord Husband ever saw her with black oyster sauce smeared across her lips? After the nauseating incident in his officer’s tent, he’d never see her in an erotic light ever again...
Noticing her dismay, Mila grinned and said, “As you may have guessed, I came to apologize for last night. Not for what I said mind you, but how I said it. We’re family Luo-Luo, so you needn’t be overly concerned with protocol and manners. I want no more curtsies or bows, no more ‘if it pleases’ and ‘by your leaves’. Let your guard down and let me get to know the real you.” Gesturing at the food, Mila added, “But first, we eat.”
Driven by her rumbling belly and Mila’s constant encouragement, Luo-Luo lifted her arm to reach for a pan-fried wrap and gasped in abject horror as her sleeve fell into her soup bowl. Petrified by her blunder, Luo-Luo traded stares with Mila’s aghast expression, her jaw dropped in shock and surprise. After long seconds of silence, it was hard to say which of them giggled first, but soon enough they were both red-faced and gasping for breath at the sheer hilarity of it all, with Luo-Luo’s sides in stitches as Mila helped her wring her sleeve dry.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
After changing into a loose robe and rolling up her sleeves, Luo-Luo’s apprehensions had magically disappeared as she chatted and dined with Mila. Though she still ate in small, measured mouthfuls, she paid no mind to the grease on her hands or the crumbs around her lips, and somehow her meal tasted better for it. When it came time to devour the massive meat buns, Luo-Luo had trouble picking where to start, but after her first bite released the delectable scents locked within, she paid her image no mind and devoured the savoury treat in a matter of seconds. She licked her fingers, slurped her soup, did so many things a lady of status should never do, and it felt so liberating.
Initially, Luo-Luo believed there was more than enough for both of them, but after clearing the entire table, Luo-Luo’s appetite had yet to be sated. Catching her staring at her plateful of crumbs, Mila giggled and said, “If you’re still hungry, we can head into town for more.”
“No, this one wouldn’t want to cause any –”
“Stop being polite. It’s no trouble at all, and you should listen to your body. You can’t build a fire without fuel and you can’t build muscles without food. You’ve been starving your body of energy with your daily practice, so you need to eat more than you’re used to or you’ll end up skinnier than a toothpick like Rain used to be.” Shaking her head, Mila scoffed and added, “What a waste turning a Martial Warrior into an Imperial Servant, and such a meek one at that. There should be an exemption from servitude for anyone who forms a Core.”
No longer so afraid of the diminutive red-head, Luo-Luo replied, “Sister Mila, forming a Core is a requirement to become an Imperial Servant.” Seeing her confusion, Luo-Luo explained, “The training for an Imperial Servant is both arduous and comprehensive, so without Martial Training, it’s hardly worth the investment. Why go through so much effort when a common human will age and wither away in ten to fifteen years? Not only would their bodies lack the beautifying effects of Chi, a thirty-year-old commoner might already have wrinkles and grey hairs whereas a Martial Warrior of similar age would retain their youthful good looks for decades to come.”
Take Mother-in-law Sarnai for example, still beautiful by any measure despite her seventy plus years. Though she bore a few wrinkles and a head full of grey hairs, Sarnai had a dignified allure about her which was impossible to find in a younger woman, and a ferocious elegance found only in the Bekhai. Luo-Luo hoped to look half as good when she reached the same age, though she’d still fall far short of matching her long-lived sister wives. Already older than Lord Husband by five years, Luo-Luo knew she had to make the most of her youth, but how was she to win him over from several hundred kilometres away?
“The Imperial Clan truly knows how to live,” Mila said, as close a criticism as Luo-Luo had heard anyone say, and it frightened her to no end. Had a true Imperial Scion heard her and taken offence, the Bekhai would be finished in the blink of an eye. “No matter. You’re a part of the Bekhai now, and the Bekhai have no useless Martial Warriors.” A chilling statement if Luo-Luo had ever heard one, but Mila wasn’t finished. “Earlier I told you I came to apologize, and it wouldn’t be a sincere apology without a gift. It’s waiting outside, so let me help you with... whatever it is you need two handmaidens for. Pick something practical to wear though, we have other events planned for later.”
Though Luo-Luo put up a token protest and insisted no help or gift was necessary, she truly cherished this bonding experience and wanted something to remember it by. Prior to today, the gruff, hardworking young blacksmith seemed so scary and intimidating, utterly unapproachable for a pampered Servant like Luo-Luo. They had nothing in common aside from a shared spouse and even Lord Husband tread lightly in Mila’s presence, but today’s shared experience showed a different side of the bushy-tailed young blacksmith, a kind and considerate interior hidden beneath her blunt, dour exterior.
A sorely needed friend considering Lin-Lin’s increasingly domineering attitude of late, the once amicable half-hare growing more petulant and demanding with each passing day. Quin racing, chariot rides, archery practice, and more, Luo-Luo’s nerves might not last another month if Lord Husband didn’t hurry back.
Scalp aching and hair thinned from a little heavy-handed brushing, Luo-Luo followed Mila into the courtyard with the bears ambling at their heels. A quick glance around failed to reveal her gift, only Lin-Lin teasing the wildcats with a bundle of feather on a string while Yan played with the pups under the watchful eyes of the older quins. Confused, she turned to her strong-armed sister-wife for direction, but Mila merely smiled and pointed at Mafu, flopped on his side and grooming a pup. Yesterday, Luo-Luo would have shied away and called Mafu over to her, but today, things were different. Unwilling to lose face in front of Mila (and Yan too, now that she thought about it), Luo-Luo summoned her courage and approached the quins with as much dignity as her trembling legs allowed her. When she stepped into range of the pups, the adult quins collectively turned towards her with teeth bared, and for a split second, Luo-Luo believed she’d made a huge mistake. Then, after the longest fraction of a second in her life, Mafu blinked, squeaked, and plodded over with the pup in his arms, his head lowered and eyes pleading for a hug and a kiss.
Only then did the other quins visibly relax, and Luo-Luo made a mental promise to buy sweet Mafu an entire basket of fresh seafood. Fish, clams, lobsters, or squid, let him gorge to his heart’s content and engrave her into memory so he might recognize her that much sooner.
With his furry head nestling in her arms, Luo-Luo noticed Mafu had been harnessed and guessed her mysterious gift was at yet another location. Moving around to his side to mount, she froze for the third time today when she spotted a dark metallic sceptre sitting upright in his harness. Recognizing it for what it was, Luo-Luo’s stomach flopped about and threatened to expel her hearty breakfast as she broke into a cold sweat, her mind blanking in sheer panic at the enormity of this gift. While Luo-Luo struggled to draw breath, Mila cheerily confirmed her fear. “It’s a Spiritual Weapon. Your Spiritual Weapon. Pick it up and see how it feels.”
Luo-Luo wanted to do exactly the opposite, to run away screaming and hide in her room, but her legs failed her once more. “Sister Mila,” she whispered, her throat too tight to speak loudly, “This is too precious a gift. This one dares not –”
“Hmph.” The kind, considerate Mila was nowhere to be found and the fearsome, no-nonsense Mila stood in her place. “I won’t force you, but if you don’t dare accept it, then it must mean you don’t see me as family.”
And there it was. Earlier, Mila said, ‘The Bekhai have no useless Martial Warriors’. Though she left the rest unsaid, Luo-Luo understood the implication and knew a decision was upon her. To her new family, black was black and white was white, with no grey areas in between. Take up the weapon or be cast out from the Bekhai, those were the only two choices. A choice between life and death because Luo-Luo had nowhere else to go, so what sort of choice was it, really?
Cold and decisive, Mila was far more fearsome than Lin-Lin.
Tears spilling down her cheeks, Luo-Luo took the sceptre in hand and nearly dropped it on her foot, the weapon far heavier than she expected. Expecting this outcome, Mila chuckled and said, “Heavy right? That’s good, it means it’ll do plenty of damage when it connects. I finished crafting it yesterday and Papa says it might be my best work. I didn’t make it with you in mind, but while considering possible candidates, you stood out among the rest. See, your height and build are perfect...”
As Mila expounded on the finer details of the weapon, Luo-Luo blinked away the tears and tried to keep up. Though only a little longer than her arm and less than two thumbs thick, the sceptre was almost too heavy for Luo-Luo to carry, much less swing. Still, it was truly a beautiful piece, with the predominantly black metal sporting thin veins of silver throughout the shaft, spiralling ever upwards as if streaking towards the top, where an obsidian orb half the size of her fist rested neatly atop an octagonal setting. So dark it seemed to drink in the light, she saw only herself reflected in the orb’s flawless, inky surface, but nothing else, as if the weapon had chosen her to wield it.
A silly flight of fancy is all it was, for a quick test showed it merely needed to be held at the right angle to reflect Mafu’s curious expression.
This was to be Luo-Luo’s weapon, a sceptre to wield in battle against the Enemy. The thought left her utterly terrified, especially once Mila showed her how to turn the sceptre into what was essentially a three-meter long whip, the cord so thin one might mistake it for twine. How did she expect Luo-Luo to control such a beast?
In response to the question, Mila smiled and answered, “When Rain comes back with Tursinai, I’ll ask her to teach you, but in the meantime you can learn the basics of rope weapons with Lin and the wildcats.” Beaming in sadistic glee, Lin-Lin hopped and squealed in delight, but Mila wasn’t done delivering bad news. “Don’t worry, Jorani picked it up in less than a year without any help, so I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough. You’ll require a lot more muscle to wield your weapon effectively though, so you’ll have to put more time and effort into practising your Forms. I was going to oversee your workouts, but since Yan will be around with nothing to do, I... she volunteered to help. You’ll also have less time to run Rain’s business, so she can help with that too. Isn’t this great?” Mila asked, proud as a popinjay as she took in Luo-Luo’s reaction. “Neither of you knows the other very well, but now that you’ll be practically spending every minute of every day together, you’ll be thick as thieves in no time.”
“What fun,” Yan said, her tone sickly sweet while her eyes implied otherwise. Luo-Luo felt the same way, but lacked the courage to retort. Instead, she nodded mutely and clutched the sceptre to her chest, wondering if it’d be better to use it to hang herself. A quick and painless death now would be far more merciful than suffering through the days ahead, to say nothing of what would happen if the Defiled captured her alive on the battlefield.
...
No.
Had Luo-Luo wanted to end her life, she would have done so long ago. She had thought about almost every day after her fateful zither performance where she, an Imperial Servant, received a standing ovation from the Emperor himself. To most, she lived a cursed life, a first generation daughter of nobility sacrificed to Service due to a cruel twist of fate, then left to rot because she was so dazzling no one dared accept her.
An Imperial Servant too talented to employ, and as much as this haunted Luo-Luo, she also took pride in her excellence, for it was only fitting.
Though not everything came easily, thanks to her hard work and dedication, she excelled in every subject she ever tried her hand at, so why should combat be any different? She was already a Martial Warrior, so how difficult could it to become an Expert? Others might struggle their entire lives and never succeed, but for her? Not difficult at all. She couldn’t even remember forming her Core, for she’d been young and she’d succeeded as easily as breathing, but more importantly, once she put her mind to a task, past experience showed that success was not a question of if, but when.
For she was Zheng Luo, a daughter of Heaven with the blood of Emperors flowing through her veins. Excellence was merely what was expected of her, and she would achieve no less.
Chapter Meme