Year 663 of the Stable Era,

Seventeenth day of the eleventh month

Just a bit before noon (and annoyingly early for a reasonable lunch)

"Ah, you're so skinny dear. Have some oranges—they're good for you."

"Your ma worried that you might be cold on that peak, so she knitted you a scarf. Its even got an array in it, for protection."

"All they feed you is crab here! That's no real food for a growing cub. Have some of this! Real jerky, from back home!"

These were the sort of things another auntie might say when visiting a beloved nephew after so long a trip. Maybe accompanied by a hug or an over-affectionate kiss or two.

But that was not the way of tigers. Especially those of the Southern Lee Clan.

Instead of a gentle smile and a bundle of goodies Auntie Fang had brought her usual stern demeanor, his uncle, and his brother—who was bored. His younger sibling was currently preoccupied with a ball, pawing it between his mitts as he waited for her to finish.

As ever, she was a fierce presence. Like him, she was wearing her full human form; jadelike skin pale against both the dark maroon of her outer robes and the light tan of her inner ones. She wore her hair long, its verdant green shot with black horizontal stripes that mirrored her pelt.

The only thing that betrayed her true nature were the dark furry ears atop her head and her sharp yellow eyes. The fierce amber of a predator, glinting as they locked onto their prey. Despite the sweltering summer heat outside the empty restaurant felt ice cold, a feat that was due to neither her nature nor her qi.

"So, have you been fighting again?" she asked, tapping a clawlike nail against the side of her cup. It made a strained clinking sound, the hair's breadth of her restraint the thing keeping it from clattering against the four corners of the restaurant.

"No, Auntie," Lee Han lied, keeping his voice level. "Nothing aside from some sparring and the occasional formal challenge."

The last part wasn't a lie. More a half truth. Or a three-quarters truth, really. He'd just left out how often he'd been the one issuing rather than receiving.

"Good. You should be sure to be focusing on your cultivation. You need to work on developing a good range of techniques, rather than wasting your time getting into pointless brawls. This one"—she began, flicking away his invisible hand as it reached for the last wonton—"is clearly a ways away from being of any real use. What else have you learned?"

"Well, as far as techniques…just this." Lee Han's eyes flicked to the side, more to guide his invisible hand as it dove after his falling chopsticks than in evasion.

"And why is that?" His aunt's eyes narrowed in a familiar glare, and he felt the hairs on his back rise. "You haven't been slacking, have you? Learning more bad habits from that Bailong brat?"

"No Auntie, it's just my Shifu's style," Lee Han protested, flexing his hands. They still stung from his Auntie's flick, the phantom pain from his technique having been transferred to both of them. It was still such a disorienting sensation, that feeling of impact on an extra appendage that was both there and not. The Invisible Hand technique used the sense of touch to aid in its precision, but he was still unable to fully control how much went through. And from being able to put enough strength into it to make it truly useful.

"He insists that we don't learn any techniques until we stabilize our foundations. So we've mostly been refining ourselves to ensure that our cultivation is sufficiently stable. A pagoda of a thousand stories is built upon the first one, and all that, you know?"

"I see," Auntie Fang said, snatching up his invisible hand faster than he could blink. "So how do you explain this, then?" Lee Han quickly released the technique, before she could poke it a third time.

"Well, that's an exception," Lee Han bragged, his ears straightening up a little bit as he did. "You see, I learnt the Invisible Hand Technique before I became his disciple by teaching it to myself during the entrance exam. I couldn't exactly forget it afterwards, so Shifu just told me not to waste time attempting to train in while we were still stabilizing our foundations."

"Oh, well look who's the little talent!" Auntie Fang's expression softened in an instant as she ruffled his hair, stern concern replaced by fierce pride. "Isn't that right dear?"

Uncle Ming hmmed in agreement as he nodded along, his eyes never leaving the scroll in his hands as he did. As ever, the quiet cultivator was wrapped up in his own world. The maroon of his clan robes barely moved as he stared deep into the paper in his hand, almost statuesque in his stillness.

"Teaching yourself a technique on your own, and just after breaking through to the Refining stage no less. I bet that had that Bailong Shen brat spitting fire in frustration, didn't it?"

"Well, some water at the very least," Lee Han laughed, thinking back to how he'd made Shen choke on his drink when he'd shown it off for the first time.

"Good! You can finally teach that brat a lesson soon. Get some payback for what he did to you at the Black Turtle City Young Generation Tournament. Maybe even make Inner Disciple for it, if you do it publicly enough."

"Auntie, I told you that I forgave him for that after he made amends. We're sworn brothers and rivals now, remember? Under the same mentor."

Auntie Fang sighed, taking a sip of her tea. "Well, you know that that can't last. A mountain cannot contain two tigers, after all."

"Yes, but it can contain a tiger and a dragon," Lee Han said, thinking back to Shen's words when he'd first extended his hand in camaraderie.

"And what's that supposed to mean? The expression means that there can only be one top guai. It doesn't matter which species."

"Yeah, but they don't always have to fight," Lee Han countered. "They can learn from each other. Besides, didn't you and Uncle Ming start off as rivals? And I know that you're more than willing to share your mountain with him."

"Well, this is this and that is that," Auntie Fang replied, a flustered expression making a rare appearance on her fierce countenance.

"Is it? How was it that you told it at that solstice party? 'First he stole my spirit ginseng, then he stole my heart,'" Lee Han put on a falsetto as he imitated his Auntie, clasping his hands together by his breast as he exaggeratedly batted his eyes seconds before they went crossed.

"I told you not to repeat that!" Auntie Fang snarled, leaning across the table as Lee Han desperately raised his hands to fend off another swipe.

"Are you talking about mushy things again?" Lee Qing asked, leaning his head against the table as he looked boredly over at his older brother. He gave a wide yawn to show how perfectly uninterested he was in such things, an action exaggerated by the fact that his entire upper body was currently in his true form. He licked his chops as he looked over towards the kitchen, the hope that the food to alleviate his hunger would arrive soon written across his face in large characters. As if he hadn't eaten half of the wontons on his own.

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"Only if your Auntie wants to—ack!" Lee Han winced as he failed to duck another swipe. "Ah, I give, I give! Uncle! Uncle! Help me! Uncle!"

Aid, however, was far from forthcoming, as Uncle Ming seemed content ignoring the unfolding scuffle. He calmly adjusted his scroll, unrolling it to the next section as he kept reading. Fortunately, fortune proved to be the ally of both Lee brothers, as the doors to the kitchen parted with the aroma of roast meat and spicy peppers.

In an instant the squabble around the table ended, as the Lee Clan made themselves presentable before the server could emerge with their small wooden cart. Without batting an eye they quietly distributed six steaming platters and four bowls of rice around the table, before bowing once and returning the way they'd come.

Auntie Fang opened her mouth to continue, before another door—this time the door to the otherwise empty restaurant—swung open, and a couple stumbled through. Lee Han had already recognized one of their voices before they entered, pulling his anonymity fan from his sleeve and shielding his face before they could catch sight of him.

It was a nondescript white fan that he'd bought from a stall a few years back for its impressively generic appearance, perfect for helping him avoid unwanted attention. Like from Min Huan, who had apparently decided to arrive with whichever girl he was currently courting.

Quietly, Lee Han cursed himself. The Plum Blossom's Ember had been Min Huan's recommendation when he'd asked his fellow disciples for a quiet place to plan an afternoon luncheon, but in retrospect he probably should have been a bit more clear as to why he'd needed it.

He'd originally reserved a spot at The Iron Slab for today, but after Li Yueling's victory in the Heavenly Wok Tournament it had been packed to bursting every day. Great for the cultivator's business, but terrible for an enjoyable meal with Uncle Ming.

He tended to enjoy such environments as much as a clay ox enjoyed the sea, so it was hardly an acceptable option anymore. Lee Han had managed to sell his reservation to a desperate disciple from the Thunderous Calm sect for a tidy profit (which had been nice), but it had stopped him from needing to scramble at the last minute to find a decent replacement.

This one had seemed the most promising. Good food for a reasonable price, even if some of the dishes had had some somewhat…interesting…names. Names that made somewhat more sense given that Min Huan had apparently recommended it to him with the assumption that he was going to be using it for a courtship, of all things. Ancestors, he'd really bungled the phrasing, hadn't he?

'A quiet place where we can get a bit loud without anyone caring' had certainly not been the best way to put it. Why couldn't he have just spent the day with Xia Bao—stumbling through every other restaurant on the peak in search of a chance encounter with the Thousand Li Immortal.

The server reemerged from the kitchen to seat the couple, a pair of menus and cups in one hand and a teapot in the other. Lee Han felt time drag to a crawl as the two of them took a seat, laughing and embracing as the server took their order. After they did a paper screen was produced, the characters painted into the alternating squares of its grid cutting the restaurant's patrons off from each other.

Lee Han sighed in relief as he folded up his fan, Auntie Fang grinning as she looked over at him.

"So, someone you know? she prodded, handing a carefully arranged plate to Uncle Ming. "Perhaps a formerly special someone?"

While Lee Han had been distracted she'd taken the opportunity to pounce—securing the best cuts of each dish for her husband. The spoils of each plate were cleanly separated, chunks with the most ideal balance of fat and meat divided by pieces of bok choy and bamboo shoots. Uncle Ming accepted her offering with a nod of his short orange hair, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he set his scroll down on the table.

"Just a fellow disciple of mine," he groaned. Quietly, so that they could barely hear it. The privacy screen likely worked both ways, but if they'd been slacking on the maintenance…well, he'd rather not deal with that possibility if he couldn't help it. "You know, from the Min Clan."

"Ah, I see, I see. So interesting to put a face to the name," Auntie Fang mused, licking sauce from her chopsticks. "I must say, I expected someone a little less…"

"He's quite a bit sharper than he seems," Lee Han interrupted, cutting her off before yet another topic could tread down the familiar path of familial disapproval. Far beyond what any other relative might have brought to bear. Despite having married into the Lee Clan, Auntie Fang handled her role as an overseer far more severely than most of her peers. Even in light moments, like escorting her nephew for a family reunion.

"As you know, the Clan's benefited quite a bit from our relationship. I'm sure that the family heads are enjoying their new silks quite well, especially now that they're on the other end of padding the price for them. So much more profitable for everyone, to be this much closer with the sea. Enough to accommodate a few eccentricities. Especially considering recent circumstances."

"So, you've already heard," Auntie Fang sighed, swirling the tea in her cup. "As ever, there's little this sect misses, isn't there."

"Rumors travel fast in the Teal Mountain Sect. Even on this peak," Lee Han said, letting his words hang as he took a sip from his own cup.

"I suppose it was worth sending you to this place after all," Auntie Fang mused. "And that you weren't talking out your ass when you insisted on following that Bailong brat here."

"Hey!"

"Anyways, if you know about the direction of things, I'm sure that I don't need to reassure you about the state of the Clan. We have weathered far worse than this, even if we need to halt our foreign expansion for a time. What you need to do is focus on your responsibilities while we focus on ours. Your cultivation comes first, above all else. Especially if you wish to retain your position as Heir for your generation."

Lee Han nodded, carefully chewing on her words as he did. The Southern Lee Clan was mainly agrarian, thanks to the lush soil that blessed their territory in the central plateaus. Unlike the Thousand Grain Pavillion and their carefully aged herbs or the Eastern Leung's with their small, high-grade crops, the Southern Lees dealt primarily in bulk.

Large crops of spirit rice, harvested six times a year from the steps that carved so many flat plateaus into spiraling mountains. Spirit soy beans, harvested year round from the valley overlooked by Great Red Tiger City. Bales of qi-rich wool from their abundant flocks, most far older than the mortals that tended them.

Such goods were always necessary to sustain the many cultivators that made up the Empire's forces, as lower stage cultivators always greatly outnumbered those that had reached a high enough stage to be truly beyond the benefits of spirit food.

Their expansion into intercontinental trade had been based around leveraging the surplus they had begun to build up as a result of their current peace. It was the perfect way to turn the silos of grain into a more useful form, perhaps even one that could aid in the Clan's further growth if they could get their hands on high-quality seeds from distant lands.

But if war was on the horizon, then such a surplus would likely evaporate. The Xan Empire, known for their foresight, would buy up anything they could get their hands on to ensure a sufficient stockpile for the coming conflicts.

Premature to consider, perhaps, given that the relations between Lutai and Xan had been limited to sanctions on specific goods thus far, but it had already begun to toe past the lines that had been established by their previous squabbles. But if the Clan was considering a halt on foreign trade…well, it made it a far more worrying thought to consider.

But a worry for the future, he thought to himself, as he caught sight of his brother's bored face. He'd shifted to a human form to properly eat, making his emotions all the more clear. And despite clearly enjoying the spicy taste of the long-awaited food, his eyes had a distant look in them. One that Lee Han was familiar with from the many banquets he'd been trapped at as a kid.

"So, didi," he said, ruffling Qing's unruly hair, "letting your hair grow out, huh. It's a good look. Better than that fuzz you had last time I saw you."

"Not if you keep rubbing it like that!" Qing protested, shaking his hand off. "Now I've gotta comb it again."

"Ah, don't sweat it. The ladies like a rugged look. A little bit of wildness goes a long way."

"Really?" Qing asked, his eyes wide. Lee Han glanced over at Auntie Fang, who was giving him a look, and to Uncle Ming, and his short, neat hair.

"Yeah, of course. You know, I could"—Auntie Fang coughed, and he quickly pivoted—"show you around the Sect later. I know that everyone's probably been talking your ears off about different sects, now that you're getting to that age, but we could go check out the market. I saw some interesting stalls when I was passing by the other day. We could go check them out, like we used to back home. If Auntie Fang'll let us, of course."

"Can we?" Qing asked excitedly, turning to their Auntie.

"We have a tour of the Martial Division after this," his guardian replied, wiping a bit of sauce from her husband's cheek. "But you two can spend some time together after that. Your uncle and I have some business to attend to while we're here."

"Ooohhh?" the Lee brothers echoed, dragging the sound out until Auntie Fang growled at them.

"It's nothing like that. Your uncle has been meaning to meet up with a penpal of his for a while, to clarify a little argument that they've been having." Lee Han noted a distinct frostiness to her words, which made him glad that he was still on good writing terms with his uncle (even if they did only exchange twelve or so letters each year).

"So, when'll it end?" Lee Han asked, reaching for another piece of the pork.

"It starts at the 2nd Inner Hour and will end just after the 4th."

"Guh," Qing groaned.

"Don't worry didi. They always put on a lot of demonstrations, so it's a lot less boring than it sounds. Not that you should think that caring about your future is boring, of course," he added, as Auntie Fang's eyebrow threatened to descend.

"Well put, Han," she said, pouring herself some more tea. "Now, tell us a bit more about your Shifu. What sort of cultivator is he?"

Lee Han sighed as he finished chewing his food, preparing himself for the long-dreaded litany of questions.

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