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Lord Kwan required rest. When he took tea, Syaoran arrived, and I was allowed to leave.
I’d slept late into the day and retired early into the night.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder about my Juneun friend. What had he been searching for? And what did he mean when he said already about Lord Kwan’s condition? I remembered the puzzle box in the kennels. Perhaps that was it. Though, if not, I would’ve given false hope. He said it was something a human couldn’t touch, allowing my mind to let go of the idea.
In the following day, I walked the grounds. Lord Kwan was still in recovery. Everyone else seemed in a rush of preparation for something, similar to how they’d been when Juro visited. A shudder went up my spine in thinking he would make another visit. He wasn’t a terrible person, or evil by any means, but he unsettled me.
Walking alone through the court yard, I found the moon gate of the inner wall open and unattended. Curious, I wandered over and stuck my head out. The guardsmen had completely abandoned their posts. I looked for Gi, wondering if something brought him away. It still left the mystery of why the gate was open. But I never came to this part between the walls, and decided it made for a good excuse to do so.
Before, my leaving the interior was done more secretively, so as not to invite trouble. Now, I could say that the gate was open and I’d gone looking for the men in charge.
In my aimless meandering, a question crossed my mind: what caused Lord Kwan to become such a monster? He always seemed so in control of himself otherwise, I couldn’t imagine the source. Perhaps it had something to do with the thing about him that everyone kept quiet from me. Something that happened fifty years ago that made him go into a foul mood. In remembering how fearful I felt with that information, I wondered if it was exaggerated. He was cold, but not cruel.
Though, I didn’t know him half a century before and had nothing to compare.
In the time I spent with him, serving his teas on his return or practicing my writing, he showed a curiousness about the villages surrounding his mountain. I could only speak on mine, since I’d only ever traveled to one other when mother was still alive; I was little, and we weren’t there for long. Sometimes people from one of the nearest neighboring villages would come by for one matter or another—Lan’s wife had grown up in a different village—but seldom to socialize.
I wondered why no one had given warning about Lord Kwan, should he rush through in that state. Perhaps they thought humans would retaliate against the spirits out of fear.
In my walking, I came to the clay mining pit. It looked freshly worked, though I didn’t know for what reason. I remembered this being my first chore, and how I toiled to prove my worth under a hot sun amid the muggy air. The water barrel was still half full, reminding me to take a drink in the warm, spring weather.
I grabbed the ceramic cup, making sure it was clean, and scooped out some of the water without letting my finger touch the surface. That was the way of things, so that clay and dirt didn’t contaminate it. I savored the cool of it running down my throat, looking over the pit.
Something struggled at its base, writhing around in desperation. Squinting, I recognized it for a snake. A small part of me instinctually urged running. I’d screamed and taken off more than once when I found a snake in the tea fields. I was afraid of their bite, afraid of their venom. The men of my village would cut the heads of snakes when they made an unwanted appearance. But looking at it now, from a safe distance, I pitied the poor thing.
It didn’t ask to be born a snake. To have no arms or legs that would help it to climb out of a sheer spot in a clay pit. It struggled to get out against the smooth chiseled sides of a newly dug out section. When the men in service to Lord Kwan came back, they’d likely treat it the same as those in my village. And I felt sorry for it. My own situation was originally not so different.
Against my fear, I hiked up the skirt of my dress and tied it off. The full of my shins and knees were showing, skinny as they were, but there was no one around to see me. The cup refilled, I kicked off my shoes and made my way carefully down.
I came as close as I dared, gaining its attention and freezing as it flicked a black tongue at me. Not taking my eyes off it, I set down the cup, watching it open its mouth to hiss. Then I stepped away.
It stared, flicking its tongue and closing its maw. Its fangs sheathed again, it came to investigate.
“It’s water,” I said, more to secure my courage than anything else. I knew it didn’t understand me. “For you.”
It slithered forward, inch by inch, never taking its unblinking eyes off me. Its forked tongue came out, more slow and cautious, tasting the water. Feeling safe, it dipped its jaw in and began to drink. Though, it never looked away from me, even after it had its fill.
I searched for something to help, climbing out to open more options. There was bamboo not too far away, gathered thick. I ran over, looking for any younger shoots I could break off and use. I managed it with a struggle, and hurried back to find the creature trying again to climb out on its own with no success.
Careful, I slid the far end of the shaft under it. Immediately, it tried to use the leverage, falling off in the attempt. I repeated my effort, trying to move with it so as to keep it balanced. Once high enough, it took off.
Relieved, I dropped the bamboo and fetched the cup, cleaning it with my sleeve before exiting. Half way out, I noticed the reptile waiting, watching. It stared with a keen interest, then took off the rest of the way and into the grass.
Still a little fearful, I retrieved the bamboo and got out.
On my walk back, bamboo tapping the grass ahead, I found the gates still open, with new furnishings being brought in. Before I could ask, Yua took me aside, a severe look on her face.
“Listen carefully,” said Yua, on edge. “Several members of the master’s family will be coming to stay a while. Keep out of their way, out of sight if you can manage that much. If, by chance you do come across them, say nothing and keep your head bowed in their presence. They likely won’t ask you much, but if one of them does try to pry anything out of you, say nothing about Lord Kwan’s states of return. Do you understand me, girl?”
She spoke quick, and sharp, her fingers digging into my arm. I nodded, not quite understanding it all but repeating it in my mind to memorize the instruction.
“Do not speak to Lord Kwan while they are here. We’re all given a level of freedom and leniency under our master, but his relatives dislike that sort of mingling entirely. For heaven’s sake, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still under the same assumption of my own being here as it is. Say nothing of Syaoran either. After this last incident, they’ll be looking for reasons to rip this house apart.”
“Last incident?”
“The less you know, the better.”
Why was that always the case with the Juneun? In the village, it was just the opposite. We were more useful to each other if we knew as much as possible so we could lend the best of our skills to the problem.
“Say nothing of Feng either. If they do ask questions, you’re obligated to answer. It’s best that you appear as ignorant as possible.”
“When will they be here? How many?” I began to worry. How long did I have to prepare? What if I couldn’t hide away in time, and crossed paths? Would I need to stay locked in my room?
“In about a week,” said Yua, sensing how seriously I took her warnings. “And four of them, we think. They’ll only be here a few days. That family has never been patient, and if they can’t find reasons to stay, they’ll go back.”
I nodded, showing I understood. “Is Lord Kwan still resting?”
She sighed. “We’re concerned about that as well. He needs to appear strong. Whatever the reason for this visit, he can’t be seen as anything less. It’ll only lead to questions.”
****
The day came when we expected the arrival of the guests. I’d put on my old clothes, making sure everything was polished, and kept a watch for the fastest route to the secret door. When I heard horses, I put away my things and bolted to go between the walls. I was told to stay out of sight, and that seemed the best way to achieve it. I could bathe in the river, and forage for things to eat, and it was warm enough now that sleeping outside wouldn’t be horrible. The fireflies might even keep me company and scare away the dark from becoming too much.
Though, I went in so much of a rush that I didn’t think to grab my drawing paper and charcoal. I’d need to come up with other ways to pass the time until Lord Kwan’s guests left.
On the other side of the small door, I made to hide myself beneath the trees, running across the open space in an effort to remain unseen. Once in the shade of their branches, I no longer heard anything going on at the house.
A good thing of it since I looked away from the wall and shrieked. Feng stood directly in front of me with a wide grin.
“I know your secret,” said Feng, leaning in closer.
I gulped. By secret, did she mean Raeden? He wasn’t supposed to be here, sure, but he didn’t break in exactly or do anything wrong. Right?
I wanted to run away, stopped in place as she encircled me. The slick, smoothness of her snake tail rubbed against my ankle, sending a shiver up my body and paralyzing my legs in fright.
“Secret?” I repeated. Taking Yua’s advice, I tried to appear naïve.
“Did you think I, of all people, wouldn’t know?” She continued to circle, broadening her grin.
“Know what?”
“You’re afraid of snakes.”
That was enough to bewilder me. I never considered that a secret, since everyone in my village knew.
“Do you recognize her?” Feng held out an open palm, allowing a serpent to slither out from under her sleeve.
I covered my mouth to keep from screaming. It was so close to my face! And I stared unblinking.
It returned the stare, expressionless.
“I knew it! You do remember her,” said Feng. “She says thank you.”
“What?” I braved looking away, to Feng.
“Most humans cut off a snake’s head simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’re cruel and evil, taking delight in killing.”
“That’s not, humans aren’t evil,” I tried to argue. In the moment I understood the perspective. I just didn’t have all the words to try and explain. “It’s just... snakes have venom, and if they bite—”
“Bite some giant, clumsy, evil human? Good riddance!”
I shook my head, getting angry with Feng for her callousness and frustrated with myself for my lacking. “Snakes bite humans because they’re afraid. And humans kill snakes for the same reason. We’re both afraid of each other.”
“Then why didn’t you?” She leaned in, her nose almost touching mine.
I had the answer to that. What I didn’t have were the words. Worthy words to explain and make her understand. “I just... thought...”
“You’re different from other humans,” said Feng.
With that, I didn’t know how to argue. I didn’t think of myself as spectacular at anything. Ordinary. Unremarkable compared to the other girls of my village. Underwhelming against any of the spirits in Lord Kwan’s house. But I wouldn’t have said I was different in that sort of way.
“So, what are you doing out here today?” asked Feng, uncloiling and smiling bright as she gave me back much needed space. “More butterfly watching? But you don’t have your drawings.”
“Oh. No, everyone at the house is in an uproar and I was—”
“You’ll be looking for Syaoran, then.” She took my hand, piecing things together for assumptions rather than listen to another poorly worded ramble. “He’s over this way. The upper lords don’t like him much either.”
I was yanked by her, with my eyes on the ground so as to not step on her tail by accident.
Syaoran lay in the grass under the shade near the sunken part of the wall, fast asleep. He didn’t look as noble or regal as I remembered. His face looked like an ordinary young man, peaceful.
“He came out early this morning,” whispered Feng. “Probably right after breakfast.” She slithered to him, poking at his side.
He groaned, muttering something.
“Get up,” complained Feng. “Human prisoner girl is looking for you.”
He rolled off his side to sit up, looking me up and down with incredulity. “You got the same plan as I did, didn’t you?”
“To stay out of the inner wall?” I asked.
He nodded, slowly bringing up a pleasant smile. “Well, now I suppose we both have half a truth for an excuse. You came looking for me, and I had to keep an eye on you.”
That didn’t make a lot of sense to me. But Yua made so much secrecy that I didn’t want to ask. I was happy enough to know I wouldn’t be alone for the next few days. And I had so many other questions anyway.
“Why do we need to be kept secret from Lord Kwan’s family?” I sat myself down beside him. “We’re only his servants.”
Feng hissed, indignant.
“And,” I corrected with hesitance, “his potential fiancée.”
“Potential?” repeated Feng, insult heavy in her tone.
Syanoran laughed, loud and unabashed.
She glared at him.
“Well, whatever we call ourselves,” said Syaoran, ignoring Feng’s look, “his brothers aren’t the most understanding.”
“Do they not get along with Lord Kwan?”
Feng shook her head, softening her expression as she provided a wordless answer.
“Not at all,” said Syaoran.
“Why?” I scrunched in my face, thinking to every family in my village. None went without squabbles, but they loved each other—we loved each other. More or less, we all got along.
“Most noble families have infighting,” said Syaoran. “A climb for power.”
“What do you mean a climb for power? They’re all nobles in the same family. Wouldn’t that make them equal?”
Both he and Feng gave me crooked looks, as though I’d said something outlandish.
We spoke at length after that. I did my best to keep up with the conversation, realizing then how little I knew of the spirits I stayed with. How little I knew of Lord Kwan. My present company hesitated or otherwise avoided any questions I had on him. It wasn’t their place to tell, they said. Thinking about it, I respected the decision. I wouldn’t have wanted someone divulging my life’s story to a stranger.
Were we still strangers?
When my stomach complained, I walked towards the secret door in the outer wall.
“Where are you going?” asked Syaoran.
“To forage for something to eat.”
“Most of the fruit trees don’t have much to give yet. I can show you.” He got up to follow.
“There could still be mushrooms or wild turnips,” I said, smiling. For once I felt confident in my ability to do something useful. “And there should be young bamboo shoots.”
“Bamboo?” said Feng in disgust.
“They’re not so bad. But you have to cook them first so you don’t get sick.”
“How do you even know that?” asked Feng.
I blinked at her, mirroring her bewildered expression. This was common knowledge, or so I thought. Everyone in my village knew these things. Surely sprits, Juneun or otherwise, knew this too. But, looking at them, that didn’t appear the case.
My smile returned, broadening. “I can show you. It’s easy.”
We spent the afternoon gathering an assortment of things. I’d found some radishes, showing my friends the shape of the leaves. Syaoran brought out a knife, cutting away the leaves and dropping them. I gave a confused look. He mirrored once he noticed. They didn’t know that part was also eatable.
Nightshade was mistaken for another berry, which I swatted away and scolded Feng for. It made me happy to see them take to trying to forage, though the natural consequence was plucking up something toxic. The same when we found wild choy plants; the lower stem and roots were fine, and the leaves poisonous. The children of the village would wait until I directed, or come up immediately to show a find and ask if it was okay to eat. Seeing it now, with grown individuals, felt odd.
We washed what we gathered, and I set to find a suitable flat stone to cook on. Syaoran prepared tinder, and started a fire to cook by the river, where we were confident we’d remain unnoticed. Cut, cleaned, and cooked, we ate our supper. It wasn’t flavorful, especially not compared to what they were used to in Lord Kwan’s house, but it kept us full.
“All the humans know how to do this?” asked Feng.
I shrugged, feeling put on the spot in that moment. “Everyone in the villages. We have to. Sometimes we don’t get a good harvest, and the tax that year still needs to be paid in what yield we did manage.”
“Makes sense,” said Syaoran. “Goes to show how resourceful humans are without magic.”
“My mother taught me these things when I was little. And I would take the children of my village into the mountain to teach them.”
“I don’t think even the servants know this,” said Feng. “And here it all is, just outside the walls.”
“It is the sort of thing that seems useful to know,” said Syaoran. “We built walls around ourselves and our homes. So much is cut off. If our castles fell tomorrow, how helpless would we be?”
“There’s a lot about your life I don’t know about,” I said, more to comfort than any admittance. It was painfully obvious how little I knew away from my home. “I have no idea what it’s like to be a lady. And I’m not so great a servant as it is.”
“I could teach you that,” said Feng. “It’s easy. Even a mouse could learn it. How much do you know right now?”
I slackened my expression, feeling suddenly exposed. “Um...”
“Aside from the bows and glide stepping and all that, I mean.”
“Glide stepping?”
She gave me a quizzical look then.
“Any dancing?” asked Syaoran. “Lord Kwan is teaching you to write, but is there the chance you can recite poems?”
“I’ve heard poems from the merchants as they pass through. I have a few memorized.”
“You’ve never composed one?” asked Feng.
I shook my head.
She sighed, nose crinkled and brow pressed. “So, the only think you know is your bowing.”
“Actually,” said Syaoran. “I’ve seen her try, and...”
“No even that?” whined Feng.
“It’s not something we did very often in the village,” I said, trying to defend myself.
Without warning, Feng got up and grabbed hold of me, yanking me to my feet. “We’ll start at the very beginning then. My husband can’t have a servant who lacks etiquette.”
“Who’s your husband?” teased Syaoran.
Feng shot him a cold look. “You too. Get up so we can practice.”
“Ahh, so that’s your plan.” A sly grin crawled across his face, and he looked fox-like for a spell of time. “If you can teach a human from scratch, you can keep and coordinate an entire household. Is that it?”
Her face went pink, and her frown deepened. “Do as I say.”
“You’re not my mistress yet, and already giving me commands.” He laughed at his teasing, but got to his feet nonetheless.
I’d always assumed that a girl would keep her hands folded in front of her with a bow. And the deeper anyone bowed, the more respect it showed.
This was not the case.
There were ones for greeting important guests, for addressing one’s master, one’s spouse, and ones which one lord or lady might give to another lord or lady. There was a bow for a guest to a host, and it differed depending on the status of each. And there was a bow for deep humility and apology. She showed more than twenty different kinds, each for a specific scenario. I mimicked well enough, but often forgot which one was meant for what circumstance.
Syaoran played the part of whomever I was meant to address, annoying Feng by behaving dramatically. It made me smile that he did, and eased some of the tension I’d worked myself into.
There were moments he and I laughed, unable to contain ourselves with his theatrics and Feng’s serious responses and scolding. I thought about Fumei and the other girls of my village. So often we teased that the most beautiful girls would be swept away to a better life by a rich man. Though, a rich man, a noble or someone equally as important wouldn’t bother with a pretty girl if she didn’t have manners to match. This was another skill I could bring home when my time was up.
In the night, as we lay in the grass under stars and firefly light, I imagined a prince coming through and being very impressed; enough that he’d have to fall in love with one of the girls and take her to his castle to wed. In my daydreaming, the girl would send gifts as a thank you, and the village would be richer for it.