Chương 84: Chapter 82

I shake my head vigorously, as though the gesture could reorganize the chaos Lianhua's words have unleashed in my brain. Night vision. My ninja handmaiden now has damned night vision. Of all the ideas I had when I thought about giving Lianhua the Myriad of Hands technique, her acquiring night vision as a bonus is clearly something it would have been impossible for me to foresee. So I take a deep breath and look at Lianhua, who remains standing before me with that expression of hers that seems chiseled from marble.

"Congratulations, Lianhua", I tell her, making sure my tone conveys the sincerity I feel, because what she's just achieved is no small thing.

"Truly. It's an impressive accomplishment." Lianhua looks at me, and for an instant that lasts barely a blink, something crosses her eyes, something that looks like a trace of satisfaction, but it vanishes as quickly as it arrives, her face returning to its usual bearing.

"Thank you, Zhāohuán Wen", she tells me with her customary composure, those three words delivered with the same intonation she'd use to inform me my tea is ready. Sometimes I wonder whether Lianhua was born this way or whether stoicism is something they train at the Yushitai, but right now is not the time to delve into that question. I have plans for today and the morning isn't going to wait for me forever.

"We'll talk at length about your new abilities later", I tell her, casting a glance at the jade tablet resting on the desk.

"I want to know exactly what you're capable of and where your new limits lie. But that can wait." Lianhua nods without protest, waiting for me to continue.

"Now I want you to take me to breakfast", I go on, stretching my arms to shake off a little more of the drowsiness.

"I need to see my mother."

"Yes, Zhāohuán Wen", she replies, her hands already moving toward the handles of my chair before the words have finished leaving her mouth. But before she starts pushing, I reach for the jade tablet still sitting on the desk. I look at its four remaining symbols gleaming in the morning light with that sharpness that contrasts with the tablet's worn edges, and for a moment my fingers trace its surface before I tuck it into my clothing with a quick gesture. Four uses. I need to give them the best possible purpose.

Lianhua, who has waited patiently for me to finish, begins pushing the chair, and we leave the study heading for the hall where we usually have breakfast. The journey through the Palace corridors is the same as always, with the handmaidens we pass bowing their heads as we go by on their way to their own duties. The morning light streams through the corridor windows, making the hallway gleam, while the aroma of tea and freshly made buns begins filtering into the air as we draw closer to the dining hall.

When we arrive, breakfast is already laid out on the table. My mother is seated in her usual place with that impeccable posture she seems to maintain at all times, while Lingxi sits beside her with the understated gravity that defines her. The two have already begun eating, which tells me I lingered in the study longer than I thought.

"Good morning, Mother", I say as Lianhua brings me to the table and settles me in my usual spot.

"Good morning, Wen", my mother replies with a light smile, looking at me over her cup of tea.

"You're a little late."

"I got held up with a few things in the study", I answer in a tone I hope sounds casual and doesn't invite more questions than necessary. Once Lianhua has settled me in place, she moves to my side and begins serving my breakfast. A steaming bowl of congee appears before me, followed by a plate with several types of buns and a cup of tea that Lianhua fills with her usual grace.

I pick up the cup of tea and take a sip, letting the warmth clear away the last traces of excitement lingering in my mind after everything that happened this morning.

"Did you enjoy yourself at the auction yesterday?" my mother asks after a moment, without looking up from her chopsticks.

"Yes", I reply after swallowing some congee.

"It was interesting, though I'm still a bit tired from all the commotion. I'm not used to so much bustle." My mother nods with understanding as she picks up a bun from her plate.

"That's normal", she tells me in that tone of hers that blends patience and authority in equal measure.

"As you grow up and get accustomed to attending these kinds of events, you'll feel less drained after them."

"I understand", I say with a nod, picking up the tea cup for another sip.

"I suppose it's a matter of practice, like everything else." I pause and set the cup on the table before continuing.

"Mother, there's something I got at the auction that I wanted to talk to you about", I say, and as I speak I slip my hand into my clothing to retrieve the jade tablet, which I then place on the table right beside my breakfast plates. My mother sets down her chopsticks and directs her gaze at the tablet I've just laid on the table.

Her eyes travel across the object's surface for several seconds, lingering in particular on the four symbols that stand out against the pale green jade, and I can see her expression turn curious but restrained. I take advantage of her silence to drink a little more tea and take a bite of a bun Lianhua has placed on my plate, chewing calmly as I wait for my mother to speak first.

"Why have you taken that out?" she asks at last, in that practical tone she always uses when she senses I'm about to propose something.

"If it's something you got at the auction, you should save it for when you're able to use it."

"It's not from the auction", I clarify after swallowing.

"It's something Master Mu gave me as a gift. The tablet has several uses and contains a technique I think could be very useful for you. I'd like you to spend one of its remaining uses." Hearing my words, my mother arches one eyebrow in what I've come to recognize as her version of moderate surprise.

"And what exactly does this technique do that makes you think it would be useful to me?" she asks, and in her tone there is a genuine curiosity she doesn't try to disguise.

"It's a technique that allows the user to create invisible hands made of Qi", I explain, trying to condense the explanation as much as possible.

"Hands that can manipulate objects at a distance. The more you practice, the more hands you can use and with greater dexterity." You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. My mother looks at me for a moment after hearing my explanation, but then, suddenly, something I wasn't expecting happens.

A half-smile appears on her face, the kind of smile I've learned to associate with the moments when she knows she's about to surprise me, and with a casual gesture, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, she extends her hand toward the platter of buns in the center of the table. But she doesn't touch it.

She simply stretches her fingers in the platter's direction and, before my eyes, one of the meat buns lifts from where it sat and drifts through the air with a smoothness, crossing the distance between the platter and my plate with a stability that speaks of precise control, until it finally descends with an almost exaggerated delicacy and comes to rest on the plate before me. My mother, still wearing that smile, looks at me as she appears to enjoy my expression of surprise.

"The meat buns are especially good today", she tells me with a nonchalance that seems designed to downplay what she's just done.

"You should try one." I stay staring at her for a moment that stretches longer than my dignity would advise, my mouth hanging slightly open in a way that is probably not at all flattering.

"You never told me you could do that", I say, and I can't stop a note of resentment from seeping into my voice, because last night I spent a considerable amount of time devising how to convince my mother the technique would be useful to her, only to discover she already has a similar one.

"You never asked", my mother replies with a naturalness that borders on the exasperating. And the worst part is that she's right. I never did ask, which, in retrospect, is a fairly considerable intelligence failure on my part. I look at the meat bun my mother has just deposited on my plate and, after a brief internal deliberation, decide it at least deserves a bite before I continue the conversation. I sink my teeth into it and, indeed, it's good.

"All right, you're right", I concede after swallowing.

"But then, why haven't I ever seen you use it?" My mother sets her chopsticks aside as she answers.

"Because the technique I have isn't particularly good", she explains in a tone that carries no hint of complaint.

"It only lets me do small things like what you just saw, and since I don't normally need it for anything, I hardly ever use it." I process her words as I take another bite of the bun, because it really is very good.

"Then that's all the more reason for you to learn the one in the tablet", I tell her after finishing chewing, indicating the jade tablet with a jut of my chin.

"It's much better than the one you have. You could use it for all sorts of things, even for painting." The words leave my mouth and the instant I say them I realize I've made a mistake, because my mother's expression changes. The smile disappears, and what replaces it is not anger or irritation but something deeper, a gravity that admits no frivolity.

"Wen", she says, and her voice has dropped half a note in a way that tells me what comes next is important to her.

"No matter how good that technique may be, I would never use it for painting. That would be an insult to my art." And in that moment something clicks in my mind and I understand something more about her. My mother is a painter of what in my former world would be called the old school. The kind who would scorn the use of new technologies to create their paintings, not out of ignorance or stubbornness, but because for them the art resides as much in the process as in the result.

For her, as for those painters, the brush is an extension of the hand, the hand is an extension of the soul, and anything that breaks that chain is, indeed, an insult. It's the same philosophy that separates a calligrapher who spends hours perfecting a single stroke from someone who selects a pretty font on a computer. The result may be visually similar, but the meaning behind it is entirely different. And so I quickly bow my head with a gesture I hope conveys the respect and the apology I feel.

"Forgive me, Mother", I say with sincerity.

"I shouldn't have suggested that." My mother looks at me and the severity of her expression softens, as though my apology has dissolved the tension my words had created.

"You're forgiven", she tells me with a warmth that reassures me.

"You couldn't have known where I stand on the matter, and I know you said it with the best of intentions." But she doesn't stop there, continuing in that practical tone she adopts when she's about to give me advice.

"And that is precisely why I don't need that technique", she says, gesturing gently toward the tablet.

"The one I have, however inferior it may be to whatever that tablet supposedly contains, is more than enough for what I use it for. It's better that you save those uses for something more beneficial to you." Here my mother pauses briefly, and the calculating gleam that appears in her eyes tells me her mind is already working through possibilities mine hasn't considered.

"You could use the remaining charges to reward your followers", she suggests matter-of-factly.

"Or buy favors from people who might be interested in a technique like that. A resource like this, well employed, could be worth more than the use it would give me." I nod slowly as I hear her words, because the logic behind them is impeccable, and besides, it gives me the perfect opening for what I want to tell her next.

"About that", I say, picking up the tea cup for a sip that lets me compose my words.

"I've already had Lianhua use one of the charges to learn it." My mother stops eating and looks at me, and what I see in her eyes is something I don't receive from her very often, unconditional approval.

"That is one of the best uses you could have made of it", she tells me, and the firmness of her tone gives her words a weight that goes beyond a simple compliment.

"Lianhua is your last line of defense, Wen. Anything that makes her stronger makes you safer."

"That's what I think too, Mother", I reply, and the satisfaction I feel at our thinking being aligned is greater than I'm willing to admit. After those words, breakfast continues peacefully. My mother returns to her food with the serene elegance that defines her, accompanied by Lingxi, who has simply observed the exchange between my mother and me in silence, just as Lianhua has.

And meanwhile I set about finishing my congee and buns with the calm of someone who knows she still has things to say but has the patience to wait for the right moment. That moment arrives when the two handmaidens who normally attend during breakfast leave the hall to fetch something, leaving us momentarily alone.

"Mother", I say the instant the door closes behind them.

"There's something else I wanted to consult you about." My mother raises her gaze from her tea cup and looks at me attentively.

"What is your question?" she says simply.

"Do you remember the question I asked you back in the city of Xi'an?" I say, searching for a way to approach the topic with the delicacy it deserves.

"About Qi and runes during cultivation." My mother frowns slightly and I can see her mind rewind through time, searching among her memories for the moment I'm referring to, though the pause stretches only a few seconds before her expression clears.

"Yes, I remember now", she says after a moment.

"What about it?"

"I was thinking about whether it would be a good idea to ask Master Mu", I say, watching her reaction closely, because my mother's opinion on this matter is something I need before taking the next step, since her conversations with Master Mu have surely given her a sense of the woman. My mother goes pensive, and I can tell she's weighing the question carefully, as though considering the implications of my asking. Finally, she nods slowly, looking at me with gravity.

"That would probably be the best course of action", she tells me in a tone that carries conviction.

"If anyone would know the answer, it's her. And since she's someone outside the court and your teacher besides, you can be certain she'll keep your question to herself." I nod, because her words confirm exactly what I was thinking, and knowing my mother shares my reasoning gives me the confidence that I'm not being reckless.

"That's what I thought too", I tell her.

"And if you have no objection, I'd like to ask her at my next lesson."

"As far as I'm concerned, you can do it whenever you like", she replies with a wave of her hand indicating she considers the matter settled.

"But remember to be discreet in how you raise it. Even though I trust Master Mu, the fewer unnecessary details you give, the better."

"I'll keep that in mind", I assure her with a bow of my head. After those words, breakfast resumes its usual course as the handmaidens return, until at last we're satisfied and set our chopsticks atop our plates.

"Thank you for breakfast, Mother", I say as Lianhua approaches to place her hands on the handles of my chair.

"I have things to do, so I'll say goodbye for today."

"Have a good day, Wen", my mother replies with that warm smile she always reserves for farewells. I turn to Lianhua as my mother and Lingxi rise from their seats.

"Lianhua, let's find somewhere you can practice what you've just learned", I tell her, and I watch her nod as she begins pushing the chair toward the dining hall door. But as we step out into the corridor, an idea that should have occurred to me sooner materializes in my mind, a thought that makes a smile bloom on my face.

"Oh, but first", I say with a giggle I can't contain.

"Let's go find Xia." The chair stops for a moment, and I can picture Lianhua behind me staring at my back with a questioning expression barely betrayed by a slight lift of her eyebrow.

"Knowing her", I explain, the laughter still tugging at the corners of my lips.

"If we leave her out of what we're about to do, she'll never forgive us."