Having been trained to command soldiers in battle, Yan originally thought teaching children would be as easy as turning her hand.
If only she’d known how wrong she’d been. The chaos of the battlefield was nothing compared to the chaos of the schoolyard, because there was no way to bring order to the mayhem and pandemonium unfolding before her. It was the mad dash before the bell as the last wave of students rushed through the gates in a last desperate attempt to arrive on time and avoid the penalties of showing up late. Happened every morning without fail even though the children had classes five days a week, and it never failed to amaze and astound her. Some ran in on their own two feet, while others who lived further away arrived by quin-pulled rickshaw. Both groups lacked any excuse for their tardiness, as they only had themselves to blame. They were their own worst enemy, striving to sleep as much as they could or steal as much time to socialize before class, and it was easy to tell which students were which. The former were a more solitary bunch, while the latter always arrived in groups of three or more, and Yan gave them both the same stern and faintly disapproving look as they ran headlong towards their classes.
Lacking any and all sense of order while they were at it, getting in each others’ way more often than not, which made for a stark contrast from the quins all lining up for their treats. After putting away their rickshaws in a neat and orderly manner no less, and Yan’s heart warmed to see it. The sweet darlings were all trained to run their routes through the winding paved streets, after making sure their young charges were all buckled in of course. Oddly enough, training quins these complex commands was much easier than teaching children even the simplest of tasks, because while roosequins would do almost anything for a snack, children could only be bribed so much.
To say nothing of how adorable and appreciative the roosequins were as they squinted their eyes while relishing the dried fishy treats.
Regardless if you were talking about roosequins or children however, there was always one troublemaker to deal with, and today’s troublemaker was a serial offender. “No,” Yan said, stepping forward with her finger outstretched, and it took an effort of will not to wince as her target regarded her with a hurt and woeful expression. It was all a sham, a ploy to garner sympathy, one she would not fall for again. “Everyone gets one treat,” she declared, and her unyielding tone set the oversized quin to squealing, letting loose a high-pitched appeal for mercy, but she would not be swayed so easily. “I said no Mafu, so stop begging. It’s unbecoming of a Spiritual Beast.”
Her criticism did nothing to quell Mafu’s complaints, and the oversized quin doubled down by pressing his fat head into her arms, leaving her no choice but to hug him close and massage his cheeks.
“He’s lots lots bigger than the other quinnies.” Looking pretty as a porcelain doll dressed in her traditional Central dress, sweet Su Yin fidgeted about with her tiny hands while watching in wide-eyed awe at Mafu’s silly antics. “Means he needs lots lots more fishies, right?”
The girl was so cute Yan could almost die, but Su Yin’s mother was immune to her saccharine charms. “Su Yin!” Seoyoon scolded, shooting her daughter a stern and disapproving glare. “Do not presume to tell your Aunty Yan how to go about her business. It’s rude.”
“It’s okay,” Yan interjected, mostly because she couldn’t bear to see Su Yin’s crestfallen expression. Kneeling down so they could speak eye to eye, Yan reached out to tickle the five-year-old girl’s chin until she giggled and looked up. “You’re absolutely right, Su Yin. Big Mafu needs a lot of fishies to fill his fat belly, and he gets that when he goes out hunting. These fishies though? They’re a reward for his help bringing the students to school, a reward each and every one of them get so long as they help.” Spotting a familiar brown blur bounding awkwardly towards her alongside a handful of students, Yan grinned and pointed him out for Su Yin. “Even small doggies like Buddy over there, who most certainly doesn’t need so many fishies to fill his belly. Think of it this way; say your mama asked you and your sister to help sweep the halls, and you both do the best job ever. Then, when it comes time to reward you for your work, she gives your sister two candies, but you only get one. Is that fair?”
“No,” Su Yin declared, shaking her head in rigorous denial which set her twin tails to flying. “Not fair.”
“Exactly.” Gathering the cherubic darling up into her arms, Yan hugged Su Yin tight and fought back a squeal as the little girl hugged back with her tiny little hands. As she stood and turned back to Mafu, the sweet quin nuzzled them both, and Yan melted even more as Su Yin hugged his head and gave him a little kiss. While the girl giggled and the quin squeaked, Yan grabbed a small fish from the buck and held it out for Buddy as he ran over to greet them with a woven basket of berries clenched between his jaws. Spiritual berries, it would seem, as the dark blue fruits bore a sheen and lustre not seen on their more mundane counterparts, but she doubted Su Yin or her mother would recognize as much. “That’s why Mafu and Buddy get the same reward,” Yan concluded, lowering the fish for the dog to eat. “Because they did the same job after all, so it’s only fair right?”
“Uhn.”
Cute as the little girl might be, Yan currently only had eyes for Buddy, who gingerly placed his basket of berries down before coming to heel. Like a hound should too, all prim and proper with his feet under him, instead of splayed out to the sides like he usually sat. Stranger still was the fact that he had yet to snatch the fish out of her hands, though his wide-eyed stare and the string of drool trailing out of his oversized jowls spoke volumes to his greed. Sitting pretty could be explained by the paved concrete and present company, as Buddy knew to be on his best behaviour in front of guests despite being spoiled rotten. She’d never known him to hold back when it came to food however, so seeing him wait patiently with a small basket of Spiritual berries was uncharacteristic to say the least. If others knew what he’d brought, they’d cry tears of envy and jealousy, though no one else was likely to covet those precious fruits considering they were covered in dog drool.
Or at least no one human, Yan amended, as Mafu caught the scent and dipped his head down for a sniff, only to be rebuked by a gruff, booming bark from Buddy which sent the oversized Spiritual Roosequin darting away to hide under a rickshaw.
“Buddy!” Yan scolded, patting sweet Su Yin on the back to keep her calm, but the girl was not so easily scared. At least Buddy had the good grace to look ashamed, though he gave Mafu a glare and a growl that said he blamed the quin for his current plight. Heaving a bonafide sigh, Buddy popped up on his back legs and lazily twirled about once, much to Su Yin’s delight, before extending his head for a pat which the young girl obliged. Then, after the briefest of pats, Buddy sat back down and acted the fool once more, dipping his head and dropping his ears while giving Yan his best mournful expression.
“Does he not like fishies?” Su Yin asked, seeing Yan dangle the fish before Buddy’s face without any success.
“This dog will eat anything if you let him,” Yan replied. “Except orange peels. He doesn’t like those.”
Su Yin laughed, her joyous expression a tinkling bell that sent warmth surging through Yan, as well as an insidious urge to hug the girl as hard as she could even though that would end poorly. “You’re not supposed to eat the peels, silly.”
“He knows, yet he still tries every time.” And threw a hissy fit afterwards, barking at the discarded peels like they’d done him a grave injustice by being so bitter and unpalatable.
Su Yin frowned in thought and Yan had to hand the sweet girl over to her mother before she did something she would regret. It almost broke her heart to see the sweet darling’s sad pout as she was handed off, but she settled into Seoyoon’s embrace without argument. The raven-haired swordswoman had come a long way since her time in the Hwarang, though Yan supposed the same could be said for all of them. It was still surprising to see the former ice-queen fuss over her darling daughter, smoothing the girl’s skirts and stroking her hair while fussing about this and that. A harsh tongue and a soft touch, that was Seoyoon in a nutshell, a clucking hen of a mother who could transform into a dragon in the blink of an eye.
“It comes so naturally to you,” Seoyoon said, once her daughter was in hand. “Mothering that is. It took me years to figure out, and I’m still learning to this day. Don’t tell my husband I admitted as much though.”
“That’s funny,” Yan replied, flashing her best smile at the other woman, one who’d since grown to be one of her closest friends. “I was just thinking the same of you. If it doesn’t come naturally, then at least know that motherhood suits you well, and I envy you and your two darling daughters.”
Seoyoon’s expression was not quite pity, not even commiseration, but more along the lines of ‘what can you do?’. “When the time comes,” Seoyoon began, reaching out to give Yan’s shoulder a squeeze, “You will make an excellent mother.”
Perhaps, but as Rain would say, it was so much better being the uncle or aunt. All the fun without any of the horrible and disgusting work, which while true, wasn’t polite to say out loud, so Yan smiled, nodded, and changed the subject. “Classes are about to begin. Why don’t you take little Su Yin to find her sister and daddy? If you could get Zian and his family too, that would be great. I just need to deal with Buddy here and then I’ll be right with you.” Once they were away, Yan turned to the poor, wretched dog, who sat there with his head hung low and mouth dripping with drool. “Here you go Buddy,” Yan offered, wiggling the smelly treat in front of his face. “You worked for this and clearly want it, so why won’t you eat it?”
Buddy replied with a long, sad, and mournful whine, one he pitched high and low as if giving voice to his grievances. It was so endearing Yan couldn’t help laughing at Buddy’s plight, but he didn’t take offense. Instead, he happily leaned into her fingers as she gave his neck a scratch, and closed his eyes as the sensation set his hind leg to thumping. While he was distracted, she placed the fish down in front of him before reaching into his basket of berries, and to her surprise, Buddy was so concerned by her actions that he shied away from her touch. He wouldn’t let her resume scratching him either, kept circling around with a look of concern, his big, brown eyes so full of pleading as he snuffled and whimpered in distress. “It’s okay Buddy,” she crooned, picking up a few berries and presenting them to him. “These are yours. Here.”
To which he responded by ever so gently closing his mouth around her hand and guiding it back to the basket with a muffled whuff. He even gave her hand a few conciliatory licks after letting it go, as if to apologize for putting his rounded fangs on her skin while remaining adamant about not eating the berries or the fish sitting at his feet. Up until now, Yan had merely been amused by his antics, but now she was growing concerned, because in all the time she’d known this strange, floppy-eared hound, she’d never known him to refuse food. The restraint was clearly taking a toll on the poor dog’s mind, as he panted and drooled before this bounty of offerings, so she put the berries back into the basket and cupped Buddy’s cheeks, running her thumbs over his velvety fur and bristly whiskers. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her heart breaking as he heaved a little doggy sigh and sank his chin in her hands. “Is your tummy upset? You eat too much hay?” A near monthly occurrence, Buddy getting into the rabbit’s feed which he would promptly throw up after an hour or so, but the rabbits were all out with Lin-Lin and Taduk. It was one of their quarterly trips as Rain would say, seeking out new Spiritual Plants and tracking the movements of the Divine Beast or Beasts responsible for fertilizing them.
Thus far, Buddy, Ping Ping, and Pong Pong were still the only confirmed Divine Beasts, but there were most certainly others out there, animals Rain, Lin-Lin, and Taduk were determined to find and befriend.
For differing reasons of course, but that wasn’t Yan’s concern, as Buddy perked his head up at the word ‘grass’. Just to verify, Yan repeated it a second time, and was rewarded by a happy, tippy-tappy dance from Buddy, while a third repetition had him yipping with sheer glee. Reaching into her leather purse, a gift from Rain based on designs from his past life, she shifted aside some papers to reveal her stash of treats, including some reserved for the herbivores among their furry loved ones. “Sorry Buddy,” Yan said, pulling out a small handful of yam leaves. “I don’t think you can eat these, and even if you could, there isn’t much.” With the rabbits off on their trip, Guai Guai was the only one who liked eating greens, so she didn’t bother stocking up on treats this morning, figuring she’d have plenty of time to get more after classes were finished for the day. Holding out the meagre bunch of shoots and stems, she let Buddy sniff them and said, “See?”
To her delight, Buddy carefully gathered them up in his mouth and tried to put them in his basket, an unfamiliar task he was ill-suited for. Though she was running short on time, she watched him struggle with the yam leaves for a good minute before deigning to help out, for which she was rewarded with another lick of the hands. “Yuck,” she exclaimed, though her tone was still warm and happy, which only encouraged him to lick her hands more. “Yes, I love you too Buddy, but there’s no more. That’s all I have.”
Honest as always, the sweet dog gave a little huff and turned to leave, taking his basket between his teeth once more. “Wait up,” Yan said, and Buddy turned and lowered his whole furry frame, as if prepared to run should she try to rob him of his bounty. “Relax. When have I ever stolen your food?” Rolling her eyes, Yan pointed at the fish laying on the pavement and said, “That’s still yours. I certainly don’t want it.”
After Buddy devoured his treat and trotted off with tail a wagging, Yan shook her head and strode back into her school, just in time to catch the chime signalling the start of class. It didn’t take long to find Fung, Seoyoon, Zian, and Jing Fei milling about with their children and servants in tow, and she marvelled at how two men could be so pretty and pleasing to the eye. The pair of Young Magistrates had aged like fine wine, filling out their suitably heroic frames, which combined with their chiselled, porcelain features and taut, stylish outfits made them the spitting image of heroic Warriors rather than doting fathers they were. The way they behaved around their children only made them that much more attractive, as Fung made silly faces at his eldest daughter Su Ling and Zian carried his youngest around on his shoulders. The former only had two children, while the latter was on his fifth, and from how affectionate Zian and Jing Fei behaved in public, Yan suspected they might soon have a sixth.
Not that she could blame either of them. Zian might well be one of the most beautiful men in existence, as far as appearances alone went, while Jing Fei had gone and developed into a city-destroying beauty in these last few years. She’d lost the lanky and almost bony frame she’d possessed in her youth to fill out into a delightfully plump and voluptuous frame, one she had no shame in showing off while wearing tight dresses in near scandalous cuts. Motherhood was almost a cheat when it came to gaining a feminine physique, though Yan doubted that it would do much for her coltish frame even if she were capable of bearing a child.
Which she was glad she wasn’t. Seeing one live birth was traumatic enough, so Yan had no choice but to admit Jing Fei was far braver than she, to continue going through that torturous experience even after having twins.
They made a little small talk as Yan led them to one of the open courtyards where Monk Happy was teaching a class on meditation outside on this beautiful day. “Breathe in,” he intoned, drawing the words out over long seconds to create an almost hypnotic rhythm for the children to follow. “And out. Draw in the good, and push out the bad. Breathe in. And out. Seek emptiness within, and peace and tranquility will follow.” Following her Sent orders, Fung and Zian’s children quietly found a place to sit on the grass and took up the proper posture, with backs straight, legs crossed, and hands resting on their knees and palms facing upwards. They were all well-behaved and well-disciplined to boot, aside from the youngest who refused to come down from Zian’s head, but little An Yu was only three and could hardly be expected to meditate.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Nor did any of the adults take part in the class, and Yan wasn’t sure how far to push it. Rain would outright say they might learn something from this children’s lesson, which risked insulting his friends even if it was the truth. Not that they’d care much, as Fung and Zian were used to Rain’s complete and utter lack of propriety and hadn’t run off yet. Still, Yan wasn’t so shameless as to pick up all his bad habits, especially since good friends were in short supply. Luckily, they were all here to learn about the school, if not from the classes themselves, so once they were quietly hidden behind a shroud of Concealment and shrouded in Quietude, Zian asked, “How effective is meditation with regards to finding success along the Martial Path?”
Of course, Yan knew that what Zian really wanted to ask was if meditation could help his eldest son, An Yang, find success at Core Creation. The boy was only ten, but Zian had nothing if not high expectations for his children, especially since An Yang’s twin sister Fei Ying had Created her Core six months ago. Now, both fretful parents were worried their eldest son would never Create his Core even though he was barely past the average age of success. To be fair, Zian and Jing Fei had been geniuses who found Balance at the tender age of eight, so the prospect of their eldest son not being born a genius was reason enough for them to worry.
Another reason Yan was happier as an Aunt or teacher rather than a mother. No high expectations to manage.
“Meditation is a subject the Brotherhood offered to teach,” Yan began, keeping her tone as neutral as possible without slipping into condescension. A fine line to walk, but after five years of teaching, she found that this was the best approach to use when dealing with overbearing parents. “As such, the practice is not directly correlated with the Martial Path as you or I experienced it.”
“Then why teach it?” Jing Fei asked, pursing her plump, succulent lips in oh so fetching a manner. On her younger self, Yan would have said it made her look irritable and petulant, but the mature beauty made it look positively sultry and alluring, as if daring you to try and claim a kiss.
It was all Rain’s fault, these errant thoughts of Yan’s, his perversion rubbing off onto her over the years, so it took an effort of will on her part to respond calmly and without emotion. “Because this is not a Martial school,” Yan replied, smiling as she gestured at the students arrayed before her. “Most of these children are from simple village families, or orphans the school looks after. It’s the same idea as the schools we raised in your cities, and across the provinces too, a place to provide food, education, and supervision to children of all ages and backgrounds. As for why we teach meditation, it’s because Rain believes it is necessary for all to find time for self-reflection, so that people all across the Empire will be less prone to Defilement.”
More to the point was Rain’s insistence of how the Martial Path was not the only Path, as evidenced by how far the monks of the Brotherhood were able to progress without ever lifting a hand in anger. Combat was merely a stick to drive one forward to new heights, but True Divinity could only be reached when driven by motivation of self.
Whatever that meant.
Yan fended off more questions for the next half-hour, most of which came from Jing Fei. No wilting violet, this one, and her pointed inquiry concealed many unspoken barbs that found fault in Yan’s school and curriculum. Not because Jing Fei thought the school lacklustre, but because she was reluctant to send her darling eldest son off to study with the People, as Zian seemed so eager to go through with, which was the only reason Yan held her temper whilst suffering through this impromptu interrogation with good grace. It didn’t stop her from wishing she could respond more like Grandpa Du, who would happily tell Jing Fei where to stuff her questions, but he had the liberty of picking and choosing his students, while Yan was here to teach anyone who might care to learn.
Thankfully, being a class meant for children, monk Happy didn’t keep his class meditating for long, and soon moved on to teaching them the phonology and the four inflections of each phonetic. Being ten and fully literate, An Yang shuffled back with shoulders slumped and head slung low, meaning she knew the answer to Zian’s question before he even asked it, but he was nothing if not stubborn. “So?” Zian asked, unable to keep the notes of hope concealed beneath his stern demeanour. “Did you find this instruction helpful?”
“I don’t know,” An Yang replied, every bit the sullen and sombre young man he appeared to be.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” The heat in Zian’s voice was more than the reply deserved, but Yan knew he only wanted the best for his boy. “It either is or it isn’t. One or the other. How can you not know?”
“It’d be more surprising if he did know.” Appearing among them without warning, Rain flashed his dazzling smile which made him outshine both men beside him. Dressed plainly in an unbuttoned, high-collared jacket with its buttons undone, and loose, flowing trousers that failed to show off his calves, he looked more like a drunk slacker than anything else, yet somehow still stood out next to Zian and Fung. Unaware of Yan’s silent comparisons, Rain wrapped three of the children up in a hug, including An Yang, and said, “A half-hour is hardly enough to get settled in for meditation, especially when it was his first go at it.” Much like his friends, Rain had filled out his frame over the years, to the point where she could barely make out the scrawny youth of yesteryear. No one would ever call him tall or burly, but he’d grown into a lean and well-defined body that was evident even under his baggy clothes, and it took all of Yan’s willpower not to slip a hand into his jacket and under his shirt. The man had abs to die for, and muscles sitting over his hips that were just a delight to squeeze, with a perfect combination of firm yet yielding that made her feel all sorts of things.
It would be inappropriate to act on those feelings right now, especially while all the children swarmed their favourite Uncle Rainy.
Mafu, Atir, Zabu, and Shana had all trundled in behind Rain, and he quickly put them to work carrying the children around the courtyard. It was much safer than riding the quins bareback, as they would sooner die than drop their charges, so soon enough, the courtyard was filled with the sounds of chittering quins and children screaming in delight. Yan would have put a stop to it if it wasn’t for Rain keeping the noise and commotion from distracting students focused on their classes. A complex and multifaceted working of Concealment and Quietude, keeping the noise and movement hidden from the masses while leaving Yan and their parents privy to every laugh and smile.
It was impossible for Yan to pull off so complex a working, especially if it had to remain in place while separated from herself, but Rain did it effortlessly without so much as blinking an eye. It was all thanks to the ‘Computer’ Keystone he kept in his head, an artifact of his past life that was capable of automating all manner of complex tasks using only a series of ones and zeroes. No matter how many times he tried to explain it, he always fell short of putting into words how the artifact worked, mostly because he himself confessed he only knew the broad strokes. Only a select few were privy to this knowledge of course, as not even Fung and Zian knew this much, which made this feat all the more impressive to them.
After apologizing for being a poor host and making jokes about seeing them up so early, Rain went back to his explanation of meditation. “The point of meditation is to cultivate a state of mind,” he began, pressing his fingers against both sides of his head like he was trying to contain his thoughts. “It’s similar to what you might experience after a long training session, or while embroiled in a bitter battle. Clear out all irrelevant thoughts in order to focus only on the relevant. In battle, even a simulated one brought about by training, that means survival, but I’m trying to show everyone that it’s time we moved beyond focusing solely on survival and the Martial Path. It’s time to look at the bigger picture and find what we’ve all been missing. You can’t see the forest for the trees, so sometimes, you need to step back in order to put things in perspective, and meditation is one way to do so.”
Were this anyone else, Yan had the feeling Jing Fei would call Rain a charlatan, because his explanations were largely vague and without significance. Being the sole True Human Divinity in existence however, his words carried a weight few others could match. “You know I would love to have your son here,” Rain continued, placing a hand on Zian’s shoulder but addressing Jing Fei directly, showing he knew exactly who made the decisions between them. “I would treat him like my own and make sure he had everything he needs to succeed, but the truth is, he doesn’t need me for that. You both do the same, and probably do a better job than I ever could, because I haven’t the foggiest idea what a Magistrate needs to know.” Gesturing around him, Rain said, “What’s more, the point of this school and others like it isn’t to raise Martial Warriors, no more than it’s meant to raise scribes, bookkeepers, or what have you. The point is to prepare these children and give them all the tools they need to find success regardless of what Path they might choose. With this broad focus, I believe meditation will serve many of them well, giving them a means to find clarity of thought and purpose in troubled times.”
It was a grand ambition, one few truly understood, not even Rain’s closest friends. The best evidence of this was Zian’s response. “You say that you could do nothing for An Yang that we couldn’t do as well,” he said, his tone straddling the line between plea and accusation, “But you know that is not true.”
Yan was so proud of her husband when he stopped to consider his words carefully, a sign of his hard-earned maturity. “I am against forcibly helping him Create a Core,” Rain said, his tone soft yet determined. “You think I’d be doing him a favour, but in truth, it’d be a disservice. Yes, I could push him to Core Creation, or you could turn to one of the Supreme Families quietly offering to do so for a price, except what they don’t tell you is that this is an option of last resort. The first step is the most important, because it sets the foundation for everything that has yet to come. The Path to the Dao is one of self reflection, so how can you set a firm foundation with outside assistance? A caterpillar does not complete its transformation into a butterfly from within the cocoon. Only after it has struggled free can it be called such, as it is that struggle which gives it the strength needed to unfurl its wings and fly.”
To this day, Rain believed creating the Stormguard had been a mistake, and the facts proved it. Only a single Peak Expert had emerged from their ranks after a decade, with few prospects of more, while Rustram had languished for eight long years with little to no improvement until finally shoring up his defects, overcoming his reliance on Rain, and progressing by leaps and bounds almost overnight. Not everyone had a will as strong as Rustram however, or a Mentor as dedicated as Mother-in-Law Sarnai however, so Rain believed it was best to let nature take its course. Unfortunately, with the Supreme Families seeking allies outside the Eastern Province and offering to make Martial Warriors out of talentless heirs and scions for a price, Yan knew it was only a matter of time before their friend grew desperate enough to seek help elsewhere.
“But what if he never succeeds?” Zian asked, his voice almost a whisper as he watched his son cackle with delight in Mafu’s arms. “What if all his struggles are for naught and he is unable to Create his Core?”
“Would that truly be so terrible?” Rain asked, which was the wrong way to go about this. “Most people aren’t Martial Warriors, and they get by just fine. An Yang would still have parents and siblings who love him so, and all the trappings of wealth and status you can bestow. What’s more, I’ve long been a proponent of separating Martial and civil affairs, because it only makes sense. We take our strongest Warriors and place them in positions of political importance, forcing them to split their attention between two vastly different professions. How does that make any sense? It’d be better to put someone who knows what they’re doing in charge, and leave Martial Warriors to focus on their chosen Path.”
It was clear to Yan that Zian wasn’t convinced, and even Fung still harboured his doubts regarding Rain’s vision of separation between military and state, but she knew he wouldn’t budge on this. Seeing his argument falling flat, he made a face and heaved a long sigh. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, the Martial Path is not the sole Path to Divinity. In all these years, I’ve only met one person I felt was close to achieving True Divinity. Know who it is?”
“The former Emperor, I would guess,” Zian replied, following it up with the standard, “May he live for ten-thousand years.”
An obvious candidate, considering Liang Wu Sheng spent a good thirty-seven years privy to all of the Eternal Emperor’s thoughts and actions while under his control. Doubly so if you added in the fact that the former Emperor stepped down in order to focus on his Martial Path and ascend to True Divinity himself, though that was over five years ago and they’d heard nothing since. Yan thought it wasn’t likely to be him though, because if it was, Rain never would’ve asked the question. Fung, Seoyoon, and Jing Fei made their own guesses, naming the Old Wolf, the Abbot, and Grandpa Du respectively, though Yan suspected the last was done out of flattery more than anything else. As for her guess, she knew her husband better than most, so she grinned and said, “It’s someone we’ve never heard of, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is.” His fetching smile made her go weak in the knees, but he was too focused on the conversation to notice the glint in her hungry eyes. “It’s an old potter living in some nameless village in the middle of nowhere. Spends days making simple, unadorned crockery which he sells for a few coppers apiece. Nothing remarkable about most of it, until you look at his teapots. Anyone here know how they test a teapot to determine if its well made?”
“They empty a full teapot into a bucket of water from a good height,” Jing Fei replied, showing she was the only one among them with any appreciation of culture, as Yan herself hadn’t know the answer either. “The more it splashes and bubbles, the worse the teapot, whereas a pour from a high-quality teapot will barely disturb the water at all.”
“Exactly,” Rain said. “There’s a whole lot of physics that goes into explaining why, but that’s not important. The important thing is that this nameless potter is makes the highest quality tea pots, bar none. They go beyond providing a smooth pour; the stream of water coming out of the spout doesn’t even make noise when it hits the surface of the water in the bucket. More to the point, when he himself is the one pouring, the water moves so smoothly it looks frozen, which is an effect called Laminar Flow. It’s not physics that makes the pour so smooth however, it’s his conceptualization of how the perfect tea pot should behave, his Will imposed upon the world through the simple act of pouring tea.” Looking around to make sure everyone understood the gravity of the situation, Rain explained, “This man isn’t a Martial Warrior. He has no Core, Aura, Domain, or any Martial skills to speak of, yet in this one minor, seemingly insignificant facet of the Dao of Water, his understanding surpasses mine by leaps and bounds, allowing him to affect the physical world without even meaning to. He doesn’t know this though, as he works and lives alone. I only know this because the Abbot stumbled across him during his journeys. The potter stands at a precipice, and if he is able to take one step further along his Path, then he might well Ascend to True Divinity like the carp leaping over the Dragon’s Gate.”
So don’t worry too much about An Yang’s future, was the unspoken conclusion to Rain’s tangent. Whether Zian and Jing Fei were entirely convinced was another thing, so all Yan could do was hope An Yang would soon find success on his own before his parents were driven to desperation. Thankfully Monk Happy’s class was ending, and as Tanaraq arrived to teach the Forms, both couples proceeded to oversee their children’s practice, leaving Yan in blissful solitude with her oh so handsome husband. “Promise me something?” She asked, slipping a hand into his jacket and under his shirt to run her fingers over his stomach.
“Difficult to say no with you feeling me up like that,” Rain replied, chuckling as he slipped his arms around her waist and tuned to face her, which only gave her hand easy access to his obliques. “What is it, oh dear wife of mine?”
“That we’ll never become overbearing parents like that.”
“Ha.” Giving her a kiss on the nose, Rain’s hands wandered the same as hers and brushed against the small of her back, his fingers seeking out the gaps of her tight, hip-hugging pants. “Easy to say when we’ve yet to become parents ourselves. They love their children and only want the best for them. The issue is that what they think is best might not always be right.” Shrugging, Rain added, “Like when we feed the birds so much they can’t fly, and then we have to put them on a diet again.”
“It is not the same,” Yan retorted, though in truth, he might have a point.
“Of course not,” Rain replied, showing the wisdom of his years as his hands continued to wander. The evident desire in his eyes did much to soothe Yan’s wounded ego after a morning spent with Seoyoon and Jing Fei, and she was more than happy to tease him with a languid shift of her hips. Left, then right, then left again, a slow, rocking motion not meant to escape his roving fingers, but to draw them deeper in. “Problem is,” Rain said, after much too long a pause, “If you’re asking me to keep you sane, then who’s going to keep me from going crazy over our children? You’re speaking to a man who barely understands the meaning of restraint.”
“You’re right. You’d spoil our children even more than you spoil the animals.” Breathing in his scent, she leaned forward to give him a light kiss, one that left her hungry for more. “I should be asking Mila instead.”
“Mm.”
Heaving a sigh, Yan turned to stand side by side with her husband instead of face to face, so as to better resist his charms and keep from getting distracted. Flicking her bangs out of her eyes, she leaned in to rest her temple against his and asked, “So… what are you going to do about An Yang?”
“What else can I do?” Shifting aside so he could rest his chin on her shoulder while hugging her from behind, Rain’s weight settled firmly against her as he sank in defeat. “I laid out the facts as best I could, but Zian wasn’t listening. All his tiger-dad brain heard was ‘no’, and he checked out of the conversation.” Gesturing at the school around them, Rain said, “I wish they understood more about what we’re trying to do here. All Paths lead to the Dao, but so much focus on the Martial Dao leaves the rest unexplored and undeveloped. It narrows everyone’s perspectives, because if you believe the Martial Dao is the Path to the Dao, then it becomes the only Dao, because you don’t see any alternative Path as a viable one. Like the potter. He’s so close to success, except he himself doesn’t know it, because he doesn’t believe anything he does could ever have a connection to the Dao. It’s like teeth; people regrow them because they don’t know better, and in the same vein, many people find the Dao denied them because they believe the Martial Path is the only Path to the Dao. If we can change this, convince people all Paths lead to the Dao, then it’ll be like throwing a stone into stagnant water, causing countless ripples as people find new Insights in everyday actions.”
Which was all good and well, but Yan knew well enough that Zian and Jing Fei’s worries would not be laid to rest so easily. Parents always wanted what was best for their children, and following the known Path was always better than setting out to forge a brand new one. No point arguing the matter though, as it was out of their hands, so she gave her husband a look to ask if anyone could see them, then leaned in for a kiss when he indicated ‘no’. A short kiss, one which she broke off all too quickly, as she was in a teasing mood. Lost in a haze of lust, Rain leaned in for a deeper kiss, but Yan kept her face turned away and pretended she hadn’t noticed. “What brought you here anyways?” She asked. “I thought you were helping Dastan install the toilet?”
“Came looking for Buddy,” Rain replied. “Stole a basket of berries from Tali and is hiding his presence from me. Didn’t know he could do that.”
Oops. Perhaps she should have confiscated the berries, but Yan couldn’t do that to sweet Buddy. “He was here earlier, basket of berries and all. Uneaten, if you can believe it.” Best to leave out that she added to his collection, though Rain would probably find out anyways. Stupid dog was in hiding while keeping to the same schedule, so it wouldn’t take long to track him down. At this very moment, he was likely on his way to join Luo-Luo for her mid-morning tea and snacks, after which he’d take a nice, long nap in her office while she worked. Poor Buddy. Even though stealing wasn’t right, she couldn’t help but sympathize with the sweet beast, so she decided to help him evade justice for a little while longer. “Go on then. Run off after your dog and leave your lonely, overworked wife unattended.”
“Well, I could be convinced to stay,” Rain replied, grinning as he leaned in for another kiss.
She held him back with little more than a shake of her head. “Not in public,” she said, even though she knew his Concealment kept them hidden from prying eyes and ears. They weren’t twenty years young any more, a fact made all the more evident by how mature and responsible their friends had become. Wrenching herself out of his embrace, Yan turned and strode away, making it three steps before she turned back to crook her finger at him. “My office is empty,” she said, the words barely out passed her lips before she found herself lifted up in her husband’s arms as he raced towards the closed confines of her private work room. In the back of her mind, she made a note to mention Buddy’s strange behavior and see what Rain made of it, but for now, there were far more pressing matters to attend to.
Forget a harem of handsome men. Most days, Yan found it exhausting to keep her husband in check even with help from her four sister wives, but today, she was feeling more than up to the challenge.