Bai Meizhen glanced down at the package in her hands with satisfaction. Within lay a number of unique reagents and a new wine from her homeland, neither of which were yet in public circulation within the Empire. She was quite certain that Qingling would enjoy them.

She paused on the high mountain path which led to her paramour’s workshop, looking out over the green valleys below. These past few months still felt unreal. When it had begun, she had felt as if she were floating atop the waters of Lake Hei, warm and weightless. She still felt a bit embarrassed by it. It was a wonder that none had noticed her distraction or demeanor. Truly, most outsiders were quite thick.

That feeling of unreality had not lasted. The initial haze had faded, and awkwardness and uncertainty returned. However, the dream did not end. It just became… grounded. The thrill of avoiding scrutiny for their liaisons and the warmth in clasped hands and when she felt daring, Qingling’s lips, had replaced the dream-like feeling of those first days. Real things. Solid things. Things that did not disappear when she averted her eyes.

This week especially, she had spent almost every day with Qingling, talking, crafting, cultivating, and sparring. She still felt a touch of unseemly giddiness as she recalled the clever ruse which had left her winded on the ground, Qingling pinning her with steel claws at her throat.

How delicious it would be when she could reverse that.

Those empty rooms in Zhengjian seemed so far away.

Resuming her walk, Bai Meizhen soon crested the clifftop, reaching the flat plateau which overlooked the ravine where Qingling’s workshop hung. If she were honest, she found the lumpy, organic mass of webbing to be uncouth, but she understood that among the Emerald Seas, naturalistic architecture was traditional, even among those who hewed closer to imperial standards.

Therefore, she resolved, she would accept the difference in opinion on aesthetics. This, according to her correspondence with her aunt, was an important part of “tolerance.” For much the same reason, she did not nitpick Qingling’s choice of garments. Even if she would look very good in a proper dress. Ah, but if she dared to use some of the Duchess’ modern fashions, perhaps Qingling could be enticed as well?

Bai Meizhen blinked and felt a touch of heat rise in her cheeks as she glanced around.

No witnesses to her moment of distraction. Good. No one needed to die. There was only her shadow, and the yet nameless spirit of fear that dwelled there was hardly going to gossip.

She was allowing herself to dither though, and that was unacceptable. She approached the top of the workshop where it peeked over the cliff, the circular entrance barred by a veil of silken webbing embossed with a few simple words.

“Closed to clients. Return tomorrow.”

She was hardly a mere client however, and a brush of her fingers caused the webs to twitch and jerk away, opening the workshop to her. Qingling had keyed her to the wards.

She passed into the rounded entry passage, her footfalls silent on the slightly springy spider silk. Their vibrations would alert Qingling regardless.

She soon came to the first oval chamber, the workshop’s guest room. Laid out with a few spartan furnishings and lit by faeries trapped in the webs overhead, it was… cozy, she supposed. She really should speak to Qingling about her presentation.

It was as she was pondering the possibilities of carpet in a room already made from silk that Qingling arrived.

She emerged from a hidden hole in the floor, standing on the back of one of her spirit beast’s many young, a brown hairy spider the size of a large dog. Qingling stepped down from the beast’s back, a frown on her lips. She wore her heavy smock today, and her features were smeared with soot except for the pale circles around her eyes that her work goggles protected.

“We did not schedule a date today. What is wrong?” Qingling asked, crossing her arms. Meizhen felt the tingling sensation of the other girl’s senses as she was studied.

“Nothing wrong. I simply wished to stop by.”

Qingling’s frown deepened. “We spoke yesterday. You made no indication that you were coming today.”

Bai Meizhen’s small smile faded. Qingling could be so brusque at times. “Yes, well, I found a good reason to come. I re—”

“Bai Meizhen,” Qingling interrupted. “I am in the middle of a delicate project. I told you I would be. You cannot just disturb me whenever you please.”

She felt a flash of hurt. Why was Qingling being so confrontational about this?

“Are you saying you cannot take even a few minutes from your work for me?”

“Yes,” Qingling said irritably. “I cannot when you did not even bother to schedule this meeting ahead of time.”

Bai Meizhen narrowed her eyes. “What is wrong with you today, Qingling?”

“This is the first day I have been able to work uninterrupted in a week,” the other girl snapped, exasperated. “I need my time to work, and I had expected you to respect that. Please leave.”

The flash of hurt returned and remained. She had thought the last week had been wonderful. They had done something together every day. Was Qingling saying that she had seen it all as a bother, an imposition on her time?

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“Am I truly bothering you so?”

“Yes. Come back tomorrow.” Bao Qingling turned away.

Bai Meizhen stared at her back for a moment and then turned away herself. “Very well. Let me stop bothering you,” she said coldly.

As a Bai, her voice did not waver at all. She left the way she had come, moving swiftly to leave the place she had been so eager to arrive at.

Foolish. Her own voice chided in her mind.

Once again, she had seen what she wanted to see, and in doing so, she had overstepped herself. Her earlier optimism seemed so terribly stupid now. Again.

She did not see Bao Qingling behind her, still standing in the meeting room, holding her hands to her temples.

***

These past weeks had been bewildering.

This was not an admission which Bao Qingling cared for, even in the privacy of her own mind. Her life had been an endless labor for control. Control of herself, control of her environment, control of her circumstances.

When she was young, she had controlled none of these things, and her life had been miserable because of it. She had come to control the first, and her lot had improved. She had gained some mastery of the second, and this had granted her some peace of mind. Her father allowed her the pretension of the third, and it was the kindest thing a man she had met twice in her life had ever done.

Bao Qingling breathed out through her nose, leaning on the worktable. Mixtures for the new batch of regenerative tinctures bubbled away. These would, if her calculations were correct, improve on the efficacy of previous versions, allowing for swifter return of the wounded to the front line without requiring the attention of elders and core disciples.

This service would take her one step closer to the upper ranks of the Sect. She did not resent her student Li Suyin for leapfrogging her, not in the circumstances that it had happened, but she would not be content remaining behind.

So why was it that, even in the midst of such an important project, that she was so distracted? Bao Qingling let out a hiss of dissatisfaction, spinning on her heel to march over and examine the pill furnaces and elixir cauldrons, each holding a slight variation on the present project.

Bai Meizhen was the answer. She still did not entirely understand this… lengthy psychosis which had overtaken her since that day when she had convinced herself that her sometimes work partner had been making a particularly inappropriate jest.

She understood romance as a concept. It was the reproductive urge, repackaged by the human mind and its infinite capacity for rationalization. It was a cultural product meant to soften the cold reality of the transactions between clans and the binding oaths of kinship which made society function at all.

Bao Qingling jabbed the stirring stick into the third elixir cauldron with a touch more force than was necessary. She was even aware of her own predilections. It was simply another thing which separated her from a normal Bao. Another defect.

Her admiration for the Duchess came from her use of that transgression to express her absolute dominance of the environment and her ability to defy social convention. The Duchess had the freedom to express whatever she willed.

A young girl sitting sullen and quiet as That Woman and her handmaidens shared court gossip.

What was she doing?

Bao Qingling had spent the last week making barely any personal advancements at all. Every day, time she would have spent in experimentation and meditation had instead been spent with that girl. It was exhausting. It was invigorating. It was deeply confusing.

Bao Qingling was glad to step back from it to focus on her work. Today, there would be nothing but herself and her work, as it should be. Bai Meizhen had made no objections when no plans had been made for this day.

Bao Qingling peered down at her projects, tasting the toxicity and medicinal fumes in the air as she studied them for imperfections or unexpected reactions. Yes, things would be…

Someone had entered her workshop.

No defense activated. No alarm. No automated recording emanated through the threads. There was only one person it could be. One person who, in a fit of delusion, Bao Qingling had added as a full exception to her wardings.

Why? They hadn’t scheduled anything. Today was a day for quiet and work. The other girl knew that. She knew that. Something must have been amiss then.

It was not.

Nothing was wrong. There was no emergency. Bai Meizhen had simply felt like intruding on her work, and she had done so without a thought.

“Come, Qingling. I have had enough of your pointless tantrums and unseemly hobbies. Just be silent, obey my instructions, and you may yet be useful despite your defects.”

Her work was important. The most important. It was hers, and no one, neither that woman, nor her siblings, nor Bai Meizhen, had the right to intrude on that. They were not more important than she was. How much time had she already given, only for more to be demanded?!

She felt the other girl’s hurt. The changes of body language, of heart rate, of breathing. The upset stung her like her own, and Bao Qingling did not know how to deal with that. It was like her youth all over again, light and noise pounding on her skull. She didn’t understand. She hated that. She hated that most of all.

As Bai Meizhen hurried away, Bao Qingling held her head in her hands, and she held in a scream of frustration.

Bao Qingling had upset Bai Meizhen. She had hurt her with those words. She understood that, and in the moment, it had been satisfying. But now, she hurt, too.

Swaying on her feet, Bao Qingling came to lean against the wall of the guest room with both hands. Foolish, illogical, she berated herself. There was no reason to be upset by this. Was it not a good thing? This madness could end. Her days could return to normal.

Normal.

That accursed word.

Everything that had just happened was foolish. It was illogical. This included her actions.

Qi cycled, metallic, gleaming. Neither cruel nor kind. Illogical.

Bai Meizhen wore the reputation of the Bai like a royal mantle. Bai Meizhen was a girl who blushed and fidgetted at any physical contact. Bai Meizhen wielded fear like a knife or cudgel as it suited her. Bai Meizhen’s terror had never touched her past the earliest days of their acquaintance.

Conclusion. The word crushed the gibbering, childish thoughts chasing themselves around in her skull. Bai Meizhen did not intend a power play or an assertion of dominance over her time.

Bao Qingling still did not understand. But there was one thing she hated more than that, more than that woman, her mother, or the expectations of her clan. She hated that people refused to explain themselves.

Yet she had put herself among their number.

Unacceptable.