Unseen Cultivator

Qing Liao maintained the modest residence attached to the Textiles Pavilion he'd possessed since arriving there in the body refining realm. Ostensibly he could have upgraded his lodging after reaching the next realm, but he had not bothered. Such a move, given that he was currently spending less time within the sect grounds than any of his over one thousand peers, felt overly ostentatious.

Naturally inclined towards simplicity, he had avoided any desire to expand his lodgings. He did not, in truth, properly consider the little courtyard home at all. That label was reserved for the wild lands of Mother's Gift, modest though they might be. The little hall of stone and wood was, to his mind, mostly a storage space. When he did spend days within the boundary of the sect's raised stone platform, almost all his waking hours were spent in the workshop or library. He only returned to the hall to eat and sleep. On the rare occasions when he called upon another cultivator, a short list comprised almost entirely of Elders Su Yi and Fu Jin, he always visited his seniors as was appropriate. At no point in his time during the sect had he ever bothered to acquire the furniture and settings necessary to entertain any sort of social gathering.

He ordered replacements for his couch, blankets, and cushions as they wore out over time, acquiring very fine articles made by fellow pavilion members by exchanging various gloves and boots. These accessories had become his primary source of income, a steady business conducted among those in the sect who required the solidity of leather coverings in their own work. Such articles were easy enough to produce, and compared to the simpler aprons used less material. The reduced expense allowed him greater output and additional chances to experiment and refine his craft. Beyond this, he had changed essentially nothing. All his possessions of consequence could be divided between a bookshelf, tool chest, and armor stand. He had made the chest, coated in boiled cowhide leather, himself, in an interval between long months hunting deer in the mountains.

Normally, prior to returning, he sent word ahead and had his home readied for his arrival. This time, having been recalled suddenly for the investigation, that process had been severely truncated. Liao expected to find a mess, and had resolved to avoid voicing any comment regarding such matters.

Instead, he found his residence the same as it always was, with the hall perfectly clean and all his furnishing in their proper place. There was even a hot meal waiting. The only difference was found in the portion of the courtyard he'd fenced off to serve as a small garden. It was not weedy or overgrown, work had clearly been done to maintain that order, but a number of the planted shrubs had grown thoroughly sprawling, deeply in need of trimming, and a several of the herbs he'd planted for use in tanning had gone to seed, their utility lost. The gardener, clearly, had not been alerted in time. That, he found, did not bother him. If anything, the somewhat rugged, wild look made him feel more at home than a perfectly groomed arrangement would have.

Provided, of course, that he was not expecting guests.

Which he was not, given his mission to chase down a murderous servant. Thankfully, this assignment did not require he ask questions of his fellow cultivators, certain not in such an intimate setting.

There would, however, be a need to interrogate others, and he was not looking forward to any of those discussions. Finishing his meal first helped, it drew the feeling of ordinary things back into the confines of his little hall. That was beneficial, a taste of the familiar to temper the shattering that was to come.

When Liao finished his bowl, he carefully pushed dishes and utensils aside and, without signaling he was done by deliberately dropping his bowl against the low table, he took out a spare cushion and placed it on the opposite side of the small platform. This done, he returned to his seat and, for several long minutes, sat in silence. He tried, and failed, to calmly center himself, finally reaching a moment when delay would only lead to greater fraying than proceeding. Only then did he offer that wordless summons to his maid.

It was time to break certain boundaries.

Chen Chao arrived moments later, soft slippers quiet on the hard-packed earth of the courtyard and smooth tiles of the little space. Her entry was, as always, unobtrusive, every motion conducted with the least noise possible for a human being still performing functional work. This was far from enough to fool a cultivator's senses, but such softness allowed the activity of the servants to be pushed into the background alongside insect strumming and birdsong, easily ignored. The gray outfit she wore, with its unassuming and basic color, blended into the backdrop in the same way. It differentiated little from that of the paving stones below. Like all servants, the uniform she wore contained the same three pieces: trousers, shirt, and hanfu robe. They hung on the body in a broadly shapeless manner. As ever, she moved to clear the little table without speaking, operating under the expectation that there would be no more need of her until the time came to serve dinner.

Liao rarely made any demands. When he found himself spending time in the confines of the sect he kept to a strict routine. Such discipline kept back uncomfortable questions from other cultivators, especially overly curious new arrivals. He had no easy way to explain why he was special, given that Itinay had forbidden him from telling others the truth of his ability. Silence proved the best shield.

Today, regrettably, required breaking that habit. It was something his maid noticed immediately upon entry to the hall. Her eyes seized upon the unexpected extra cushion. She blanched instantly, and froze in place. The empty bowl and chopsticks remained in place upon the table, trembling hands unable to advance towards them.

"Sit, please," Liao looked up and offered her the gentlest expression he could forcibly summon. "Please, there is something we must discuss."

Shaking, Chen Chao moved to the opposite side of the table, her eyes slid visibly across the empty dishes. Turning about, in a motion that utilized the maximum level of elegance allowed to someone wearing a shapeless and colorless uniform, she sank down to the cushion. The prideful defiance in her eyes could have challenged an emperor. It did not last more than a moment, replaced instead by naked fear as Liao turned his head toward her.

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Unexpectedly, she responded to her terror by seizing vocal initiative. Leaning forward, she met his eyes head on and forced a simple but critical question through trembling lips. "Honored cultivator, are you intending to dismiss me?"

"Dismiss?" Liao blinked. Stunned, he looked over again and met the dark eyes of Chen Chao. The fear within them held a level of depth he had not imagined. Regret blossomed in his breast at this, and he recognized his mistake. Worse, he realized he'd completely missed the signs that had generated this slowly festering trepidation.

"No," he answered at once, the word snapped out in sudden, formless panic. "No." It came out calmer the second time. "Your pardon, I prepared for this poorly. There is a matter I must discuss, with you, but it does not impact your service to me."

Chen Chao did not relax by an eyelash. "Honored cultivator, you will dismiss me, and soon, even if it is not today," she continued. This time she dropped her gaze and stared at the floor. "If not from your service, then from your bed. I hope you will inform me in advance, that I might make preparations for that change."

It took every bit of finely developed cultivator self-control for Liao to hold his body firm in reply to those words. It would not do to reach out and pull his maid into a tight embrace. That would be entirely the wrong response, however right it felt.

The fear in Chen Chao's eyes, in her whole body, it was something he understood. It was written across her face in a pattern of blemishes and fine lines. Twenty years in the sect, begun at the age of fourteen like all cultivators. His maid was only eight months his senior. From the very start they had grown together, becoming adults side by side both without and within their blankets, as the sect had always intended.

She had been a black-haired pretty thing, and from the age of fifteen through thirty time had never truly touched her. The past few years had born witness to the cessation of that reprieve. Liao, gone from the sect for so much of his time, had barely noticed, but now, staring at her in daylight, he saw the evidence. Lines, sagging skin, slender gray strands woven into her hair, all the countless tiny features that added up to the advent of middle age. Though still slender and fit, the strength of youth had begun to fade from her limbs.

This would not matter, Liao knew, were he an ordinary man. Few men of thirty-five would complain of a woman with Chen Chao's appearance when she was willing to join them in bed, and all of those who did would be fools, but he was not an ordinary man. He was a vitality annealing realm cultivator, and every external indicator on his body belonged to that of a young man of twenty-five. The difference in their ages was, for now, modest, of minimal issue, but that would change swiftly. It would not take long at all to grow immense, as Chen Chao had clearly anticipated. Ten years at most, and he would push her aside in the night.

Not a pleasant image, but testing it against the back of his eyes Liao realized he could not deny it. It was inevitable, the way of their world, and he knew he was not so strong, nor was the bond they shared, to resist such things.

He did not love Chen Chao, nor she him. He had done his best to be kind, and to behave properly and never abuse his station, but theirs was not a relationship of equals. They had no children, a likely consequence of his long absences, and age made that highly unlikely to change now. His maid would go childless into middle age, left to work the remainder of her days without descendants. A simple life, and not without its comforts, but not one found in many dreams.

"I will not dismiss you," he made the decisions suddenly, a choice sourced from deep within, some iron-hard impulse wrapped up in the very core of his dao. A vow he would not, could not, break. "You may remain in my service so long as you wish, and in this house so long as it suits you." Liao knew she had made a home of her small servant's quarters, and kept to the courtyard even when he was gone. A lonely life, he suspected, but he hoped she had friends and family in the city. To his shame, he had no idea of those connections. Chen Chao's life when she was not actively serving him remained completely opaque, entirely as intended by everyone.

It was that barrier he had to break this day.

"I see," the maid answered very softly. "Do you wish me to search for a second maid? Or perhaps a gardener or weaver? I know you could use a tanning assistant but I fear that the selection of a young woman with the relevant skills for that duty is impossible."

"No," Liao said that word with greater force than he intended. "No, that won't be necessary. I am quite content as matters stand." He thought that was true, and did his best to smile. It felt true, he had experienced no discontent with her nightly visits. That would surely change, eventually, but not yet. Besides, he had no need to increase the staff of a courtyard where he spent so little of his time. He might afford it easily enough, but such waste sat ill with his mindset. Nor did he like the idea of altering the current, steady, arrangement.

"I see," the serving woman repeated. This time, when she looked up, the fear had passed away. Confusion had arrived to replace it. "Have I displeased you in some other way, honored cultivator? I know the gardener has not visited. I did not expect you return or I would have-"

"I did not expect to return, myself," Liao forestalled her, eager to embrace this switch in topics. He did not like seeing a plaintive look in those dark eyes. It turned his thoughts to all the aspects of life as a cultivator he had yet to fully accept. Chen Chao, in his mind, remained a pretty young thing his equal in age. Two of those traits remained true, one did not. Age was taking his parents, soon it would begin to take his maid. The brutal impact all cultivators faced, the collision with the transient nature of mortal life, was rapidly approaching. He was not ready to face it, not yet. "I was summoned by the order of the grand elders, as was the entire sect. Do you know why?"

Chen Chao blinked. "Honored cultivator, I could not possibly guess as to the nature of cultivator business."

"I doubt that," his first blow, struck at the wall between cultivator and servant. As oblique strike, but it gave him confidence to continue. "I think you know perfectly well, especially given the universal nature of the order. The grand elders have spent the last two days dragging every single initiate before them, and they have not emerged unscathed. You can tell me why, whatever orders the servants have been given to maintain silence are overridden, Grand Elder Itinay personally ordered me to investigate." He reached down to his belt and placed the special investigatory badge he'd shown at the Ritual Pavilion on the table.

Chen Chao stared at that little metal circle. She ran her hands over it carefully, marveling at the workmanship. "Investigate? You mean the murders?" As expected, she was hardly ignorant of the turmoil churning through the sect. "Why would the grand elder ask you to find the killer?"

"Many reasons," Liao summarize, not wanting to repeat Itinay's explanation. "Mostly because I have been away, so you know it could not be me. Also, because the killer is one of the servants." He paused, and stared at her, pressing his gaze upon her. "As such, I need the help of a servant, a window to that world." He did not like the weight put on those words, the heaviness of them, but there was no choice. He could not take back that truth. "Can you help me?"

There was no hesitation in Chen Chao's response. She stared back, hard-eyed, her face somber with the knowledge of the price this choice demanded. The strength that empowered her came from a place Liao had never seen and did not know.

It remained a mystery only until she opened her mouth. "Yes," the maid told him, unflinching. "I will help catch that monster. He killed Chen Jia four years ago," she recited one of the names on the list. "She was my cousin."

The wall crumbled and the bargain was struck.