Theirs was not great fortune, but they made do regardless. Winter as it might have been, the estate was still abloom with riotous color, each garden path carefully pruned, grasses trimmed to perfection, vines set to climb up walls and spirit of ancient days gone past infused into every single architectural choice. He’d learnt about them all as a child, as part of his training— he could just as easily discern the imperial style from the post-imperial as he could swing a sword or call on his qi. It was his nature, as the greatest of his name, that he should know all of that and more. Everything.

He was, after all, the one novitiate of his year who would join the Bloody Saffron Sect. It was his destiny.

For now, though, he stood in the gardens and appreciated the cold-swaddled, crystal serenity of it all. It wasn’t often that he got a chance to take such a break, but the lingering injury from his match with Ai’er Avyr had forced the matter; the outer sect disciple had bid him recover, and he would follow that command to the letter.

It gave him time to think. Not that he didn’t do that already— he had been trained from birth to be intelligent— to consume information ravenously and synthesize new perspectives, new understanding, to comprehend the esoteric as easily as the mundane. It was a good skill. It’d brought him through his school years so far, top of the class, only contended by a few natural geniuses and that one girl who worked herself way too hard. He’d emphasized with her, at least— if he’d been a hedonistic wastrel, she might have even surpassed him. But no— he worked just as hard as she did. He had to work just as hard as she did, because his competition had never been in the 32nd Precinct at all.

Until… the cat.

Something had shifted.

It felt… it felt like something that did not want to be touched on. He tried to view it from a purely logical standpoint, to pick it apart and splay it open, and fit it to the vast wheeling patterns of the cosmos, and felt— unsure. A sickening, nauseating uncertainty, whelming over his every assumption and hope and destiny, and shivering in tune with the cold of the world, and making his arm hurt. His arm hurt. The pill should have healed him utterly, but he still looked down at his arm as little as he could. The sight of that… the memory

of that wound, of being ripped apart by the maw of savage beast…

His classmate.

His competition.

His thoughts wheeled unproductively as he walked across the carefully combed gravel path, the contours of it winding through the small garden at the heart of their estate. Brambles and bushes still stood starkly, upending the white, glabrous green leaves straining against the livid sky and livid ground… all enshrining so many little scarlet flowers, still blooming despite the cold.

How much effort did it take to keep those alive? As the scion of the Qin family, he knew just how much they spent on the gardens— for mere aesthetic purposes. It was a surprisingly costly amount, to force a flower to bloom in winter…

He paused, hearing others in the garden. The groundskeepers had left with the end of the morning shift, and none were permitted here besides himself and…

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It was not merely aesthetic. At least, not merely aesthetic in the way that everything could be categorized as anything, if you tried hard enough— no, it was an echo of the greater culture of East Saffron. Of their history, of the enlightened self, and the hopes of the Qin family all burdened on him.

“…interesting addition to the precinct. I’d congratulate you on securing such talented civilians for yourself, but I don’t think that this was voluntary, was it?”

“I would not dare lie and say it was.” Xinshi blinked. He didn’t recognize the first voice, but he definitely heard the second one— his mother sounded strange, speaking so deferentially. She was the sort of woman who took what she wanted and crushed her opposition just as fiercely. “If I could remove him, I would— but even if its reputation is much diminished in this slum, the library and the school holds influence that I cannot merely overturn. And Lexi was never spineless to begin with.”

“Be careful. I can’t help but think his secrets run deeper than you understand.”

“Of course I’ll be careful.”

“We’re not friends.” The voice, again— he almost recognized it, but exact identification eluded him. “I know you’re playing games. I even know what games you’re playing, as if every clan in Saffron doesn’t do the exact same thing with a thousand times more resources at their beck and call.”

“Do you really think I’m so foolish as to prop up a paper tiger? No, the testing was extensive. He has the talent to go a long way.”

“Does he have the will though?” Both voices fell silent for a long moment at the stranger’s probing question. “There is little more important when it comes to the Sect. Don’t answer— I don’t care. I merely came to get a different perspective on matters.”

“Your mere presence is generosity enough. Never hesitate to reach out to the Qin family, if you ever need anything.” His mother never spoke like that.

The stranger just snorted. “Yeah. Right.” And then—

Only one person was walking on the path.

His mother, the honorable Councillor Qin Guxi, turned the corner with a sour, pensive look on her face, the sound of her steps heavy in the silence. It took her a second to notice him, which Xinshi knew was unusual— she was in Opening, though without a manual for her meridians, and her spiritual sense was no petty thing. “Oh. Xin’er, I didn’t notice you there.” When was the last time he’d been called that? A sudden ache passed through his chest at the memory. “You heard that, didn’t you?”

“What was it?”

His mother smiled, and it was not a kind smile. “Oh, simply an associate of the school’s, coming to ask about the new students, and the new Instructor.”

“The formations master?”

“Not a master. Merely a dilettante.” Xinshi didn’t say anything, but in his heart, he doubted. Not even the companies they worked with could do some of the things that mortal could. “She didn’t mean to, but she confirmed something for me.” Then she gave him a kind smile, and that was in some ways even more terrifying. “Don’t worry, Xin’er. Your mother won’t let you get hurt again. By the next time you fight… the problem will be resolved.”