“What are you up to cousin?” Bao Qian asked.

Bao Qingling looked down at him flatly, an irritable twitch traveling up her spine and culminating in the tilt of her head. Her cousin’s wagon was dense with qi, exhaust from a crafting project? It was a dense pressure, like waters bearing down in a spring flood or a blizzard howl threatening to bury the world. Uncomfortable, Consumptive, and difficult to ignore.

“Were my words unclear? I require your knowledge of local stage entertainment,” Bao Qingling replied.

The wide, red and brown shape of Bao Qian shifted, straightening up where he had been bent over a crafting bench. Bao Qingling squinted down at his work. A strip of blue linen, something painted on it. A pennant?

“No, they were very clear. That is why I am wondering who this imposter before me is,” He said dryly.

Hyperbole. Intended to be humorous, not a threat or an insult. Condescending connotation. Not intended? Probable, given the subject. “I must ensure that my client does not seek after other providers. To that end, I must… socialize. You should know this lesson better than I, Bao Qian.”

Movement, the black blur of work goggles obscuring his face being pushed up. “That I do, and that is why I know the wining is generally done before the establishment of the contract.”

“Events have left many things in disorder,” Bao Qingling said tersely. Had this been a mistake? She should have done her own research. Pointlessly risky, seeking help-

“It’s none of my business I suppose,” Bao Qian sighed. “I’ve not had much time lately, with my own projects…”

“What are these?” Bao QIngling asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Hm, oh charms, merchandise for my client's tour. Something to be given in return for offerings. That ice spirit of Miss Ling’s,” Bao Qian said. “Need to be affordable, overall profit is secondary to establishing the market for the moment.”

That sounded odd, even to her. Spirits were not generally so direct with their rewards for worship. Bao QIngling tilted her head. “You’ve had the spirit infuse the paint and ink?”

“Yes, it limits the color palette a bit, but the retention is good, given how cheap I’ve had to be with the materials, though Miss Hanyi’s cooperation makes the quality higher than I could have hoped for on this budget otherwise. But, returning to your problem, what manner of show do you think your ‘client’ will prefer.”

Bao QIngling’s eyes narrowed to slits, she detected the odd emphasis on ‘client’. Still it was a valid question. Correct categorization was necessary to sort the undoubtably large number of options. What then would Bai Meizhen enjoy in a stage play?

Analysis of Bai culture would indicate something with mystery or intrigue, which would preferably complete with the losing party suffering some manner of ultraviolence. However, while she had no doubt that Bai Meizhen enjoyed bloodshed, she was rather blunt overall. Bao Qingling’s fingers tapped against her elbow erratically as she analyzed the possibilities.

“...You are taking this quite seriously,” Bao Qian said.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Any matter of worth should be taken seriously,” Bao Qingling replied absently. “Vengeance, Romance, these should be the themes. A straightforward plot would be best.”

Balancing clan inclinations with Bai Meizhen’s softer inclinations seemed best.

That is… specific,” Bao Qian said. She glared. He held up his hands in surrender. “I am sure I can think of something.”

She nodded sharply.

***

There were worse public venues than theaters, Bao Qingling decided. There was an elegance to the polished practice and movement of the actors, and the minor formation work built into the stage. Minor work, with low energy intensity and requirements that even low first realms could power and operate.

It was an interesting study, however, the ingenuity that their limitations forced upon them. Arrays to distort, amplify, or deaden sound which substituted meticulous encoding for the simple control that a more advanced array would allow. Lighting and stagecraft, fudging visuals and artificiality rather than shrouding in full illusions

Admirable.

Even if she found the show itself nearly incomprehensible. It was straightforward enough, but the actions taken toward advancing its plot made little sense to her. ‘Whispers under Jing’ was a play set in a fictional viscounty along the named river. The thrust of the plot was an intrigue by which a man disposed of his brother's family to become the head of his clan, but a surviving daughter was hidden among the servants. Scenes alternated between them until the culmination…

Crimson arced through the air, the actor playing the murderous viscounts soliloquy dying as he sank to the floor with a blade in his throat, planted there by his own son, who had fallen in love with the ‘servant girl’.

Foolish nonsense, but it was a story.

Beside her Bai Meizhen clapped politely as the scene closed on the murderous son being confronted by his own brother, with a dialogue unsubtly indicating that they would fight now and the kinstrife would spread, consuming all the clan for the dead fathers original sin.

At least the themes were clear. She did hate stories that tried to be clever by obfuscating what they wanted to say.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Bai Meizhen said quietly.

Bao Qingling tilted her head, regarding the private box around, empty of anyone else. She considered the darkness of the theater, and the person beside her. She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair, before slowly sliding her hand over to rest atop Bai Meizhen’s.

“Yes,” if not for the same reasons a normal cultivator might.

“It was a rather amusing little comedy, I must thank you for your recommendation,” Bai Meizhen said lightly, looking down to the stage as the curtain drew down, closing over the brothers who slumped down in the center of the stage appearing, thanks to a delightful bit of stage sorcery to have their swords thrust through each others bellies.

“I believe it is intended as a tragedy,” Bao Qingling said.

“Hm, there is some of that,” Bai Meizhen agreed thoughtfully. “But you cannot expect me to believe that such a plot is not supposed to inspire some humor. If it were serious, the girl would have lived rather than dying so foolishly to the viscount in the scene before, only for the loose ends of her plan to continue and bring about that bumbling slaughter. It is a story about folly, and destroying that which you hope to gain.”

Bao Qingling hummed, she didn’t judge it so. The story seemed to her to be a vehicle beating decrying kinstrife. Not an uncommon theme in Bao lands.”It is humorous in an absurd way,” she allowed.

“Different tastes I suppose,” Bai Meizhen said.Little lights had begun to appear casting off the darkness of the theater. “But I am happy all the same. Our arrangement is most satisfactory, Lady bao,” she said, humor glinting in her eyes.

“...That it is Lady Bai,” Bao Qingling said, rising and offering a hand.

“Though next time, I shall select the viewing.I will have to see if I may find something which keeps your attention off of the stageworkers.”

“You may certainly try.”