Intense. That was the only word to describe Long Chunhua. She had a weight to her presence and aura that belied her nature as a houtian cultivator. Yoshika wondered if she’d been holding herself back from xiantian for reasons beyond just the power that she’d imparted to her two children.
Yoshika had been told she could be intense. Certainly Eui and Kaede were—even Jia and Eunae, albeit in a different way. She didn’t compare to Long Chunhua. In many ways, she reminded Yoshika of her own mother—more specifically, Eunae’s. Seong Minhee carried herself with regal pride, and weighed her words carefully. Chunhua, on the other hand, was pure focus.
Whether it was the uncharacteristically meek elders of the Awakening Dragon swept up in her wake, or the Grandmasters of the Flowing Purewater who welcomed her graciously into their home, or even the infamously aloof representatives of the ruling Qin clan greeting her like a friend—Long Chunhua commanded respect. She was not always as cutting as she had been with Yue, but she never lost the intensity about her as she effortlessly controlled every conversation.
By the time evening approached, Yoshika was dreading the more private meeting they’d scheduled. Even there, she realized, Chunhua had swept Yoshika up into her own pace. She hadn’t been explicitly invited to the dinner—only Yue had—but there was absolutely no way she could leave poor Yue out to dry after that remarkably chilly reunion.
“That’s how she gets you. Everything my mother does is deliberate, and she views every action from every angle to reach the outcome she desires.”
Jia grimaced as they made their way—slowly—down the halls of the Flowing Purewater’s temple towards their meeting.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“No doubt. I’ve long since given up on doing the same. It...didn’t serve me as well as it has my mother.”
“I don’t like the way she treated you. Even if it was just to make sure I came to the meeting.”
Yue snorted.
“It wasn’t just that—there are other angles. It lets her show familiarity with me without being overtly favorable in front of the elders, and even hints at a level of displeasure that they think they can use. Layers and layers. My mother often said that the paints we apply to our face are just a distraction from the real makeup we wear to beguile the senses of those around us—our expression.”
“That’s exactly what bothers me.”
Jia huffed, trying to get the agitation out of her system before the meeting. Long Chunhua did indeed wear a different face for every interaction. She could be smooth, graceful, witty, charming, even cutting, but it was always an act. Everything she said or did had a calculated purpose, and there was something about that which Yoshika found disturbing to her core.
Chunhua’s aura control was incredible for her level. Though spiritualists could not directly perceive auras the way mages could, they developed a strong sense of empathy as the cultivation of their soul empowered their own emotions. Because of that, aura control was such a core fundamental of their techniques that the doctrine of emotional suppression had rooted itself deep within their very culture. Even so, Chunhua’s control of her presence rivaled that of even the greatest of Qin’s cultivators. Perhaps only Qin Zhao and his uncle, Yongliang, surpassed her.
But Yoshika could read even Qin Zhao’s aura, and so she could—with some effort—divine some of Chunhua’s true feelings. She really did care for Yue, and that just made it even worse.
“I don’t always act the same way with everybody. I’ve got different aspects within me—entirely separate people—and my attitude depends on the person I’m talking to.”
Yue gave Jia an arch look at the confession.
“Yes, most people consider that quite standard for social interactions. Outside of Qin, anyway.”
Jia blushed and elbowed her.
“I wasn’t done! When I do that, whatever face I present is still genuine. It’s me. I’m not going to pretend I’m some perfect paragon of honesty, but your mother... It feels like she lies even when she tells the truth. I don’t mean to be rude, but have you ever even seen the real her?”
Yue looked up at the ceiling and seriously considered her answer.
“I’d like to think I have, in rare private moments. But you have a point. She wears her mask so naturally that it’s become part of who she is. I hope you won’t judge her too harshly for it. It can’t have been easy, being Yan De’s wife.”
That, more than anything, gave Jia pause. Of course, she was used to thinking of marriage as a kind of union or partnership. It was her nature, and it was also the ideal that most strived for. But she recalled Kaede and Eunae’s upbringings, and the way Yue had used the idea of betrothal to Zheng Long or Xin Wei as a tool.
Marriage could be a shield—like Xiulan’s marriage to Xin Hai, for all that they seemed to love and respect each other. It could be a sword—Yan De had tried to use Yue’s betrothal to Xin Wei to take control over the Flowing Purewater sect. Or, it could be a shackle—Yoshika thought of the God-Emperor’s harem, and the invitation she’d received from the twin princesses.
Which would it be for someone like Long Chunhua? Despite only meeting her briefly, Yoshika knew the answer right away. It was all of them. Armor, weapon, tool, bonds—everything but a partnership. Marriage for Yue’s mother had been a game, with Yan De as her opponent. A difficult, complicated board where neither could afford to destroy the other as they each vied for control.
“No. I guess not.”
Yue chuckled.
“In any case, I hope you’ll find her more personable in a private setting. Just give her a chance.”
“I give everybody a chance, Yue. Ancestors, I give most people too many chances.”
“Indeed. Well, that’s part of what I love about you. Now then, shall we?”
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They had arrived, and Jia resigned herself to what was possibly her most important meeting so far.
A servant ushered them inside, where Chunhua was waiting in a common, but nice sitting room. Like the other honored guests, she’d been given her own rooms in the temple—a rare honor for her rank, when even the Awakening Dragon elders were given guest houses lower down the mountain.
Yue’s mother gave them a cordial greeting as they entered, which Jia mostly ignored because it had no meaning. It felt like nothing Chunhua said did—which might have been uncharitable, but Jia was trying to focus on what lay behind the words.
She was wary of Jia—cautious in a way that she wasn’t with anyone else. Yue, she was pleased to see as always, but none of that showed on her face or in her words. Instead, once a servant had served them all tea and cleared the room, she got straight to the point.
“Empress Yoshika, may I inquire about the state of my husband? It is my understanding that you were the last to see him alive. Yan Ren claims he yet lives, but was sparse on details.”
Jia smiled mirthlessly and sipped from her tea—which, she had to admit, was very good.
“That’s awfully direct, Long Chunhua. We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
“We both know that was a pretense, and while I’m aware of your penchant for fine cuisine I have little to offer that you could not prevail upon our hosts for yourself. You do not like to stand on formality or pretension, so I ask you directly—is Yan De alive?”
It took quite a bit of self control for Jia to resist pressing her lips into a thin line and ruining the makeup Yue had spent so much time on. No, she did not like Long Chunhua one bit.
“What makes you think I would answer that? Or appreciate this approach to our conversation?”
Yue looked askance at Jia, frowning.
“Jia...”
Chunhua glanced at her daughter briefly, but her smile didn’t budge.
“That you value honesty is plainly evident in the company you keep—my daughter excepted. Besides which, though I’ve never met you before, Yan De has, and my husband does talk.”
“So you’ve taken the impression of one of my most strident enemies at face value? That doesn’t seem particularly canny of you.”
“At face value? Heavens, no. In the interest of disclosure, allow me to explain why I must ask.”
She produced a faded talisman of white jade and placed it on the tea table between them.
“You are a known practitioner of soul magic. That’s a rare and dangerous thing—enough that the sects would prefer not to acknowledge its existence publicly. This indicates that Yan De is not dead, but he is gone, one way or another. Everything between you and I hinges on why that is, and thus it must be the first thing we establish. You see?”
Yue’s gaze flickered between the two of them, and she cleared her throat as she cut in.
“Er, may I—?”
“No, Yue. While I’m sure the empress has confided in you, and it would be trivial to get your interpretation, it’s imperative that I hear the answer from Empress Yoshika herself. Straight from the lips of the one responsible, who holds honesty in such high esteem.”
Jia frowned.
“Even I know that there’s a difference between honesty and rudeness. This is a test, and the fact that you’re not hiding it doesn’t make that any better. Are you accusing me of manipulating Yan De’s soul?”
Chunhua shook her head, still smiling.
“Not at all, but I would like to know what did happen, and you’re the only person who can answer that question.”
Jia drummed her fingers on the armrest of her chair, staring impassively across the table. Yue was confused—probably not understanding why Jia didn’t just answer. She didn’t realize the problem that Yoshika sensed.
“No, I’m not. You already know the answer to your question. You’re good at hiding your intentions, but not better than I am at reading them. Most people wouldn’t have told you that because it will put your guard up, but that’s the difference between truth and honesty. You have been direct, and even truthful—mostly—but you haven’t been honest. Not one time since you first introduced yourself.”
That did throw Chunhua slightly, though she didn’t show it.
“One would think that you were accustomed to such things in your dealings with Qin.”
“Maybe, but like you said, I don’t like pretension. Do Hye kept secrets and manipulated the people around him. Yan De lied like he breathed, and forced everyone else to live in his reality through sheer force of influence. I’d rather deal with either of them than spend another second in this conversation. At least they knew who they were.”
Yue made a strangled sound of panic and desperately tried to cut in, but her mother spoke over her, never breaking eye contact and still with that fake smile like a stone wall between them.
“We do not all have the luxury of being ourselves, Your Majesty. I do apologize if I have given offense—genuinely. The truth is I sold myself, body and soul, a long time ago. What you see before you is all I have left, and I had hoped that your connection with Lee Jung would allow you to understand that.”
This time it was Jia who rocked back from the figurative sucker punch. That was not a comparison she would have expected anybody to make, much less Long Chunhua herself. Even Yue was shocked, but what shook Jia to the core was what she felt from Chunhua’s aura.
Despite what she’d said earlier, Yue’s mother didn’t grow more guarded with the knowledge that Jia was reading her emotions. If anything, she’d loosened up on her control, and made herself more open.
And even that was a deliberate choice. Calculated to endear herself further.
But it meant that Jia saw that Long Chunhua comparing herself to a former prostitute was not meant to be derogatory in the slightest. In fact, there was an element of pride and respect there, as though Chunhua felt a distant kinship with the woman she’d only heard of from afar.
“That was different. My sister had no choice.”
“Is that so? Would she say that, if you asked her? Or would she say that she has no regrets, even take pride in her past?”
How did she know that?! Yoshika barely restrained herself from asking, but Chunhua seemed to read her mind anyway.
“I know Lee Jung, though we’ve never met, because we are alike in the only way that matters. We are both mothers, and I do not mean that in the banal terms of having borne children.”
She produced another jade talisman—or the pieces of one—silently placing the fragments on the table as she continued. Jia didn’t need to ask whose it was.
“Beyond blood or covenant, a mother cares for her children. I do not need to read your aura or examine your soul to see it, empress. Lee Jung cared for you, as only a mother can. She could not always protect you—and certainly didn’t coddle you—but she left her mark upon you, and I have witnessed it in your every deed. You carry her love on your shoulders even now, and I know it is not always a welcome burden.
“But there it remains, as it must. So when I tell you that I am nothing—that wife and mother are all that I am—yes, I am saying it because I know it’s what you want to hear. It is also the truth, and the only kind of honesty I have left to give. So for a final time, as a wife and mother, I ask, because I must hear it, because you must say it. What has become of my husband, Yan De?”
Yoshika sat back, utterly defeated. What could she even say to that? She still didn’t like Long Chunhua. Resented the fact that the woman had sacrificed so much—that she had to—and did not try to protect her daughter from doing the same. But a mother could not always protect, only care. And Long Chunhua did care—with the same intensity that defined every other part of her.
There was only one thing to do, really—Jia answered her question.
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