Tales of the Teal Mountain Sect

Year 663 of the Stable Era,

Third day of the eleventh month

A bit after the chime of the 5th Inner Hour

After having long finished her negotiations for a particularly promising grindstone base and a subsequent negotiation for a fine-toothed comb, Lan Yun had long since settled into a table at a small teashop in the main courtyard of the bazaar to wait for her erstwhile companion. With its second-floor balcony, the Green Kettle was an optimal place to spot Yeung Lin whenever he eventually managed to wander back through.

The Jadelike Yew's Tea and Confectionaries would have offered her a better viewpoint, but their confectionaries hadn't been the same since the previous baker quit a decade ago. Apparently, he had snapped after a long series of arguments with his partner, splitting the harmony of their store as he went off to start a new shop dedicated solely to his craft.

The rumors that had emerged as to why over the last few years were still unclear, although Lan Yun expected the truth to emerge in another decade or two. The prevailing theory was that the baker had finally snapped after the thousandth insistence that he serve desserts that were more 'seasonally appropriate', but Lan Yun preferred the theory that he had simply gotten tired of his craft being placed second in the establishment's name. A lingering resentment that had only grown over the decades, biding its time before it emerged in explosive fashion.

A common occurrence amongst cultivators, despite the best efforts of many. Attachments were simply too easy to form. A lingering moment here, a nagging thought there. Anything could ferment if it was ignored for too long, and time was the one resource that cultivators always had in abundance.

At best it would simply lead to an outburst or a complex, but in the worst cases it could form a heart demon—those twisted manifestations of a cultivator's deepest insecurities and regrets. Emotions given form as uncontrolled thoughts and urges seized a life of their own, as the qi that flowed through a cultivator's meridians followed its nature.

Qi, after all, was the lifeforce that flowed between all things. And while cultivators bound it to themselves through willpower, if that will was splintered so too was their qi. It was the nature of qi to give life and empower, even to the smallest, most inconsequential of things—be they the tiniest plants or the smallest feelings.

The older an emotion, the stronger a heart demon would become, their might only compounding as the cultivation of their creator increased. Far greater cultivators than Lan Yun had succumbed to such things, their regrets and sadnesses driving them down a long path of madness and qi deviation.

This was why control was of paramount importance. Even the slightest deviation could lead one dozens of li astray if it wasn't corrected in time, which was why a cultivator must strive to remain centered.

To not become so obsessed with their inability to perfect a form or technique that it caused them to fall into despair.

To not grieve too deeply at the loss of a companion, that a part of themselves would die with them.

To not become overly attached to a cherished possession, to the point that its preservation mattered more than its purpose.

To not allow a pleasure to grow so deep that they drowned in it.

To not grow too close to another, lest…

Lan Yun shook her head, as if to exorcise such thoughts from her mind as she took a sip from her tea. Thoughts of attachment had been nagging at her as of late, causing the first lessons her father had taught her as she began her journey of cultivation to rear their head in idle moments.

It wasn't that she was neglecting such thoughts. Letting them run unchecked would only lead to hardships later, and she knew better than to allow that to happen. Nor was she deferring them, committing the debtor's fallacy of believing that such an outstanding amount would simply dissolve if it was ignored hard enough.

No, she was coming to terms with her emotions. She was just…taking her time with it.

It could just be a bit hard, at times.

Other times, it wasn't. Like when they talked over lunch, or when they traded pointers whenever one of them hit a bottleneck with a technique.

Those moments were easy. Lan Yun could talk for hours with Yeung Lin. He was always willing to share his passion for the academic, just as excited to hear about her discoveries as he was to talk about his own.

But then there were the moments where things were harder to discern, those muddled moments where the bond they shared seemed to ascend, breaking past the realm of companionship. And it was so hard to tell if there was truly something more there, because for all their closeness, it was still so hard to read Yeung Lin's emotions at times.

Honestly, it would almost be easier if he was just openly lecherous at times, Lan Yun thought to herself, poking at the last of her second custard. But, of course, he was far too good for something like that. Not to indulge in her own ego, but while Lan Yun was hardly one of the fairies of the peak, it could not be said that her body cultivation was not at a certain stage of development. She'd attracted more than a few would-be suitors over the years, all of whom had been firmly rebuffed.

But Yeung Lin had never expressed that sort of interest towards her, or to anyone else as far as she could remember. He'd just always been more focused on his books and scrolls than that, although it was impossible to tell if that was due to his strangely stiff sense of propriety or genuine disinterest.

She could always ask, of course. And knowing him, he'd probably just answer her. Guilelessly too, no less.

But it was the answer that she dreaded. Or rather, it was the fact that she would be introducing the question into their centuries-long friendship, and that it would be an element that the two of them would need to navigate for the foreseeable future, no matter what the answer was.

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Indelible change. That was what it would be. And while it would be great if the answer changed things for the better, it could just as easily take a turn for the worse.

For the longest time she'd thought that she could just defer her emotions, to let him be the first to broach the topic, but the longer things went, the more and more certain she felt that that course of action was only going to cause her more grief.

Maybe it was better to cut it off now, before it had the chance to grow from a disturbance to a heart demon. Excise the hope…ah, but that was the word that really betrayed her to herself, wasn't it?

That it was a hope, rather than a thought or idea. A hope that their relationship might become more, something deeper than the friendship they'd cultivated together.

She should just follow her father's words after all, shouldn't she?

"Strike down emotions should they turn on you. Strike down attachments should they bind you." That's what he had taught her, the words etched into her mind along with the countless swings of her sword that she'd performed while reciting them.

If they stayed felled, they were not worth the consideration. And if they didn't, then, perhaps…Lan Yun's further thoughts were interrupted by a soft, familiar sound.

How had he slipped past her? She quickly whirled around, confronting its source as she did her best to avoid spitting her tea in his face.

"Ah, Lan Yun," Yeung Lin said, greeting her with a wave. His approach had been remarkably quiet for someone as encumbered as he was. Three large sacks were slung over his shoulders, their dull colors a sharp contrast to the bright roll of silk wrapped around his neck and the pair of large ornate boxes under his arms.

The results of his delay, no doubt. It wouldn't be the first time that Yeung Lin's eyes had been bigger than his storage ring, although they didn't quite resemble the pair of battered willow baskets that he usually used to haul around his excess purchases. Perhaps they had finally broken after years of abuse.

"I was going to use the balcony to keep watch for you, but it would seem that you have already had the same idea," he continued, placing his boxes on the ground next to her table as he shrugged off his other baggage. A chair pulled itself back as he did, and he settled into it as he drew a strange teacup inlaid with a metal formation from his storage ring. "I apologize for the delay. I had an important errand to run and ended up getting caught up in…complications. Were you able to secure the item you were after?"

"Ah, yes," Lan Yun managed, rooting around her storage ring for the stone. With a small thunk she put it on the table. The ceramic was a pale white, only broken up by a large fleck of pink that covered half of its one smooth side. It exuded a palpable qi that made several of the adjacent tables glance over in their direction, a sensation of jagged danger overshadowing its beauty.

"Supposedly it's a fragment of the dish that the Great Dessert once rested upon. Most shards are too large and unwilling to move, but occasionally a speck like this is uncovered. It'll make an excellent whetstone once I work out a way to shape it. The ceramic on the inside is exceedingly fine, and it'll strengthen my blade once I work it into my sharpening regiment."

"An excellent find," Yeung Lin said, eyeing the teapot with one eye as the other inspected the fragment intently. "Would you mind if I had some of your tea?"

"By all means," Lan Yun said, "although it's gotten a bit cold by now."

"That's actually perfect," Yeung Lin said, pouring a hearty dose into his strange cup. "It'll allow me to further test my new teacup. I finally assembled the first iteration of the idea I was describing to you a bit ago, and the results are looking promising. It can hold temperatures perfectly, and the flexibility of the array has adapted to different strains of tea with almost no issues. The quality of the ceramic might need some work, as it's still quite a bit crude, but I should be able to find an artisan that can help me work on its composition."

"I can lend you this, if you think that it'll help," Lan Yun laughed, flicking her soon-to-be grindstone with a finger. It chimed as she did, the low sound causing the tea in both their cups to quiver.

"I suspect that I'm quite a long way from being able to learn from such a piece," Yeung Lin said with his usual humble smile. "But, while we are on the topic of things adjacent to your sword, I do have something for you." He reached for the boxes he'd stacked near the table, pulling the bottommost one out and placing it on the table.

"I am truly grateful for all the help that you have given me over the last few years," he said, looking her firmly in the eyes. "I don't believe that I would be in as much contention as I am for the post of Senior Instructor without it, and even discounting that it has been tremendously helpful to both my disciples and myself."

Oh? Lan Yun thought, her eyes widening imperceptibly as a dozen unbidden thoughts began running through her mind.

"And so, I felt that it was only right that I repay your kindness, even if the best thing I can offer is a gift. It should aid you greatly in the refinement of your jade sword, as the properties of its qi promote resilience and reformation when properly attuned to stone."

"Oh," Lan Yun said, her mood somewhat dampened by the revelation that Yeung Lin had simply gotten her another cultivation resource as a gift. It wasn't a bad gift, per se, so much as it was a very expected one. Something that—while no doubt carefully selected to aid her cultivation—would inevitably be dust in the wind once she used it, its very nature rendering the gift an ephemeral thing.

"According to my acquaintance at the Thousand Grain Pavillion the flower works best if you absorb the qi yourself and then integrate it into your sword," Yeung Lin continued, opening the box to reveal a startlingly red lily in a small brown pot. Its two heads flared like twin flames, the bright yellow of their tips giving way to a deep cinnabar at the core of their throats.

It was a beautiful thing, even if it was doomed to be ash within the next hour, if even that would remain. A bright, temporary thing. Like the flame it resembled, and the hopes that she just held only moments ago.

"What's its name?" Lan Yun asked, gently stroking one of the flower's rough leaves. When Yeung Lin had mentioned a cultivation resource she had been expecting some sort of root or fruit, but a flower…well, she could always find an excuse to keep it around a bit longer. To help her come to terms with her emotions, of course.

"Alabaster Shadow," Yeung Lin answered.

"That's an odd name for such a flower," Lan Yun said, cocking her head a bit to the side as she stared at unmistakably colorful flower before her. "It seems far too…bright for such a name. Are you sure that you didn't get scammed?"

"No, no," Yeung Lin said with a soft laugh, gently swirling his teacup as he did. "Du Chengyi made quite certain that this was the genuine article. No, the reason for its name isn't the color that the flower has in life, but rather the properties it possesses afterwards."

With a careful twist he plucked a leaf from the stem, his fingers straightening as he drew the qi from it. The vibrant colors drained from the leaf, leaving only a bone white stem in his fingers as he breathed in its lifeforce. But rather than dissolve or collapse into dust, the leaf persisted, remaining whole even as he placed it delicately on the table in front of her.

"Alabaster Shadow gained its name from the form it leaves behind," Yeung Lin explained. "Through a quirk of its nature, its qi's alignment with earth causes it to transform after its death. It becomes a pale shade of its former self that is as resilient as stone, which is where the name comes from. I thought that, since you've often seemed disappointed with the gifts that I've gotten you in the past, you would like this a bit more. Since you will have something to remember this moment by, even after your use it for its—"

He was unable to finish his explanation as Lan Yun hugged him, pushing the table aside as she did. It wobbled precariously, and Yeung Lin hastily caught its edge with his Invisible Hand technique, preventing the delicate flower and ceramics from meeting a premature end.

"It's perfect," Lan Yun exclaimed, tightening her embrace as Yeung Lin's eyes darted back and forth.