Year 663 of the Stable Era,

Seventeenth day of the eleventh month

A bit too early to pick up didi

A breeze danced through the courtyard of the Martial Division, carrying with it the scents of roast meat and browning baos. Lee Han felt his nose twitch as he rubbed his stomach, squinting at the clock in the distance. Sixteen minutes past the hour. He'd thought that he'd managed to line things up pretty well, but it seemed that even getting the time right he was still off.

Early, thankfully. It would have broken Qing's heart if he'd shown up late. Even if he could excuse himself with a box of baos.

Well, half a box now.

But that wasn't his fault.

Chao Ren was always complaining about how important it was that they keep the afternoon schedule tight, so he hadn't felt particularly foolish for assuming that it would end on time. He'd timed it out perfectly to get there a stick or two early, for a nice clean reunion with his younger brother. Enough time to find a comfortable place to wait for him, but not so long that the baos stopped being piping hot.

But then they'd started to run a little late, and he'd had a bao of his to tide himself over. He couldn't help it. He'd spent the time since lunch cultivating his qi, and all that meditation always made him hungry.

Even after a big lunch.

So yes, he'd had one or two to tide himself over. And then a few more. And a few more after that, when it started to become clear they were running more than a little late.

Lee Han glanced at the bushes. A fleck of blue paper peeked through the leaves, the only evidence of the twin to the box on his lap. Perhaps it had been a few too many, but Qing would never know. He could always get another, to hold himself over, but it would take at least twenty minutes to make the trip and the irony of such a choice was so thick it was almost palpable. If he risked it, he would certainly be the one running late, and the last thing he wanted was to give Auntie Fang that sort of ammunition.

Moodily, he flipped open the paper box on his lap. Six steaming baos stared back at him, smiling thankfully at him for being kind enough to carefully tip away the condensation that had been threatening to build up since the last time he'd the box. He tapped one with the back of a finger.

Still warm. Still delicious.

He could have another one, couldn't he? It wasn't as though Qing knew how many came per box. And he could always give him the extra one, to be the good big brother. Yes, that could work.

Would work.

Lee Han's eyes darted from side to side, carefully making sure that his family was out of sight before shoving the warm bun into his mouth. He rapidly devoured it with two enormous bites, his jaws working furiously as he rearranged the buns to a more aesthetically sensical formation. Namely, a small pyramid with four on the bottom and one on the top.

Much more passable than the mismatched rows of two and three.

He glanced over at the entrance again as he finished chewing, reaching for his flask. Still late. He sighed as he washed down the sweet roast pork with cold tea, chasing it with a deep breath of the mountain's rich qi. It relaxed him to feel it surging through his meridians, even if the novelty of its ruggedness has begun to wear smooth.

He sighed again as he exhaled, deciding that maybe some breathing exercises would help to pass the time. Or at the very least allow it to feel less wasted.

Ancestors, he wished that the tour would just end already. There were already so many things he had to worry about, and he'd really wanted to be able to truly take his mind off of them for just a bit by enjoying some time with his favorite brother.

No longer 'only', according to the letters. He'd have to wait until he returned home to become properly acquainted with his yet unnamed sibling. He hoped that he liked him. It would be a shame if he didn't, but that was something to worry about in the future. At present, he really just wanted to spend some time with Qing.

Gossip about what the family was up to, without Auntie Fang's disapproving glare. Catch up with how he'd been doing, in all those little ways that were impossible to convey when you were writing a letter. And he did still write him, of course.

He might have occasionally allowed his official letters of progress to lapse a bit, but he remained regular in his correspondence with his brother. And Uncle Ming. Mostly because he was confident that the clan was reading them anyways, so it wasn't as if they were ever truly in the dark.

After all, close siblings were rare among cultivator families. Rarer still when the gap was something more conveniently measured in years rather than decades. It was a connection worth cherishing, and one he'd be saddened to lose too early into his life. Which was why time to talk was so important, since it could bridge the gap of his absence. And the topics that they could never quite write about. Like what sect his brother was actually considering joining.

He knew that Qing had the aptitude for it. Few of their bloodline lacked the potential to become cultivators, and as a child of the main branch it was expected that he pursue such a path. He did know that he was probably spoiled for choice when it came to which sect he would join. Much in the same way that Lee Han had, even if he hadn't quite considered it because of his bias.

He knew that Qing had his heart set on the Imperial Scholars, ever since the first time he'd taken him to see them. It had been at New Years, when the Imperial Parade had passed close by their manor, blazing lights and paper lanterns trailing in their wake like a phoenix's tail.

They'd had a great view from atop a roof that they'd definitely been allowed to climb, of the great red ships and the small blazing cultivators that danced around them. They'd ended up listening to the storm of thunderous drums and crashing gongs as they pursued whatever misfortune was foolish enough to remain before the upcoming year for hours, eating far too many sweets even as the sound faded over the horizon, leaving only its glowing trail behind.

The next day they'd found one in the woods when out for their morning training, still intact after its fall from the heavens. Lee Han knew that his brother still kept it beside his bed to this day, a sign, if any, that he still yearned to join their ranks.

He could probably make it too, if he put his mind to it. He had the talent, and he knew that the clan would no doubt encourage it as such a position would elevate their standing. Possibly even give him the edge when it came time to determine who would become Successor.

He did hope that the latter wouldn't be too significant of a factor, at least at present. They were both still well ahead of their first century, and he'd rather not have to add the possibility of a souring relationship over succession to the worry pile so soon. Not when he already had the test for the Clear Pill Tower and Shifu Yeung Lin's assignment... Thankfully, Shifu had become quite busy with a personal matter as of late. Something that had been explained rather vaguely in a letter he had left pinned the door to his training hall. It had allowed him a helpful reprieve, one that would allow him to have a chance to ask Uncle Ming if—

"Gege! Gege!" Qing's shout broke Lee Han out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see his brother sprinting over to him, waving his arms excitedly. Auntie Fang and Uncle Ming followed close behind, their cultivation allowing them to keep up with the sprinting cub with easy strides.

"Didi!" Lee Han called, rising to meet his brother. He caught him in a hearty embrace, making sure not to overuse his cultivation as they exchanged a familiar familial bearhug. His invisible hand caught the bao box as he did, fingers extending ever so slightly to keep the lid shut as it balanced precariously in the air. "How was the tour?"

"Long," Qing sighed, finally admitting that he wasn't going to outmuscle his big brother anytime soon with a light pat on the back. "Everyone kept on dragging out their displays to show off. Auntie said it was because one of the other kids kept asking too many questions, but I heard that there was supposed to be someone important visiting today. Apparently that's got them all on their best behavior, since they'll get extra resources for their divisions if they impress them."

"Were they in your group?"

"No."

"Ah, well that sucks," he commiserated, shaking his head as he reclaimed the box. "How bout some pork baos to make you feel better? I found a pretty good stall run by one of the Thunderous Calm Sect's retainers the other day. They're almost as good as the one at Fatty Li's." He paused a beat as the blank look on Qing's face reminded him that only a fellow sect member would understand the comparison. "Ah, they're good. Good sauce, good meat."

"Oh, I see," Qing said, taking a sampling bite from the topmost bao. He brightened up as the taste of the savory meat hit his tongue. "Hey, these are good!" He took a far more enthusiastic second bite, as Auntie Feng and Uncle Ming exchanged a few quiet words.

"You can have one too, Auntie," Lee Han said as she laid claim to two of the remaining baos, her hand moving faster than her sleeves could flap.

"Mhm."

"Well, seeing as it's my turn with Qing now, I suppose I'll leave you and Uncle to your business. Unless you have any words for us first, of course."

She nodded.

"I expect to see you at our inn by the 8th Inner Hour for dinner. Don't be late. Your uncle and I are going to have a talk with a certain cultivator about the proper methods for footwork techniques. It will certainly be an enlightening conversation, but not one that should delay us."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lee Han nodded, well aware of her implication. He had no desire to ask anything else about the topic of their meeting, as he could tell by the glint in her eyes exactly the sort of practical demonstration she was going to give about foot placement.

He resisted the urge to wince again as she rubbed each of their heads as she bid them goodbye, inclining his head respectfully towards Uncle Ming as he returned his slight nod. Sometime during this Qing had secured one of the remaining baos, and he claimed the last for himself as he absentmindedly crumpled the box in his other hand.

"So," he said, stowing it in his spatial ring for later disposal, "what do you want to do?"

"I dunno,"Qing said, looking around the carefully carved benches and the trimmed bamboo of the otherwise empty entrance to the Martial Division. The few stragglers that had been waiting for the next tour had already departed, along with the other survivors of Qing's group, leaving them alone in a rare lull of the usually busy area. "What's there to do around here?"

"Well, there's always plenty to do in the market this time of day," Lee Han replied. "Especially during Tournament Month."

"Then lead the way," Qing replied, stepping aside to allow him to take the lead. They set off down the mountain, Lee Han guiding them through the winding paths, stairs, and landings. Occasionally he would point something interesting out, like the study halls or the library, and his brother would reply with a short acknowledgement, but otherwise they travelled in silence.

Lee Han didn't mind it too much.

He enjoyed the familiar sensation of just walking with his brother, and he knew that the mountain's steep and narrow steps served as soft encouragement for its disciples to better train their physique. He did make sure to take them along the more mild paths, sacrificing the shortness of the more direct routes in favor of a more circuitous path that would be easier for a first stage cultivator.

Eventually they reached the level that contained the main body of the bazaar, stopping by a side courtyard to give Qing a minute to catch his breath on a bench before they entered. Lee Han procured a flask of spirit tea from his ring—a nice blend of black and green that he'd been enjoying ever since Bao had introduced him to it a few years back. He took a sip before offering it to Qing, only for his brother to produce a gourd from a storage ring of his own and take a deep pull from it.

Lee Han watched as his brother took another couple of gulps, the clan's crest of a chrysanthemum before their mighty plateau glinting from his finger. He would have received his, wouldn't he? Now that he was fifteen.

"So, what've you got in yours?" he asked, as Qing drained the last of the liquid from his gourd. His brother tapped the last few drops into his mouth before recorking it, furrowing his brow as he gathered the qi he'd need to store it. The familiar spatial shimmer appeared around his ring, the air rippling as he pushed the gourd through it and into the metal.

"Just some water," his brother replied, accepting the proffered flask. "Auntie Fang infused it with a little qi earlier to help with all the walking."

"The steps are a bit to get used to," Lee Han laughed, thinking back to his first time on the peak. Running after Shen for the entrance exam. "But once you do they're good training. Try some of this. You should be able to handle it, and it'll help refresh you." Qing graciously took the proffered flask, before making a face as soon as he tasted it.

"Blegh! It's so bitter," he said, handing it back after a second equally disappointed sip. "How do you drink that stuff?"

"It's a refined taste," Lee Han said defensively, taking a sip to reassure himself of its quality. "You just need to learn to appreciate the subtleties of a more astringent flavor."

"Meh," Qing grumbled. "I'd rather just have some green tea."

"Well, I'm sure that we could find some in the market," Lee Han replied, stretching his back. "There's a whole bunch of teahouses around where they set up the food booths. We could grab some along with some snacks while we walk around."

"I'd rather not spoil my appetite," Qing replied, brushing off his robes. "I'm looking forwards to dinner. Auntie Fang said that the roast lamb smelt amazing when she passed the restaurant earlier."

"I see, I see," Lee Han said. "That would be a good idea, wouldn't it. Especially if Auntie thought it smelt good."

He felt the slightest tinge of embarrassment. Mostly at the fact that he was still looking for food after eating four times as many buns as his brother.

"So, what do you want to do then? I saw some fun looking games around when I came through a few days ago. Nice prizes too. You could go try and win some. Like a nice new fan."

"I'm not a kid anymore gege," Qing frowned. "And I don't need another fan."

Not need another fan? What sort of person would ever think that?

"Well, we could just walk around," he said. "See if we find anything interesting."

"That's fine," Qing said, shrugging his shoulders. "With all the sects here, I'm sure there'll be something."

"So, how's Dandan doing these days?" he asked, as they gave an ant guai aggressively peddling reams of silk a wide berth.

"Dunno," Qing shrugged. "He got weird ever since he met his fiancé. All he talks about now is his clan duties and relationship stuff."

"Ah, I see. What's she like?"

"Dunno. I haven't met her."

The two continued on in silence for a bit longer, passing by a few disciples on rugs with a selection of battered manuals on them. Lee Han gave them a cursory glance, but most of them were the same as when he'd come by yesterday. Common techniques to the last, the few unusual ones being poor transcriptions of lessons and one sketchy recreation of a sword technique the disciple had seen once in a bar somewhere.

The page that the seller had let him see mostly consisted of a poor description of what the writer had thought they'd seen, and with such an enticing start he could easily imagine how insightful the rest of it would be. Lee Han pointed out a humorous looking manual cover to his brother as they passed a booth, but the badly portrayed bellybutton elicited little laughter from the young tiger.

He sighed to himself as they continued on in silence, each idly looking over the different curios spread before them. He really wanted to ask Qing about the sects he was considering, but he knew from personal experience just how aggravating such an approach could be if it was too direct. He'd gotten more than his fair share of grief from family members when he'd been deciding his path, and the last thing he wanted was to become the very thing that had made him despise so many of them at the time.

But his attempts to lead into it with small talk were failing quite miserably. The distance between them had just grown too far to ask such an easy question so easily. He needed another approach.

"You should just ask them directly," a voice said, and Lee Han's head whipped around to see who had spoken.

A tall, brown-robed cultivator with one of the scraggliest mustaches he had ever seen smiled as he continued. His head was turned towards his companion—a shorter disciple in the nephrite robes of the Teal Mountain Sect, with long blonde hair and a large handful of freckles sprinkled across her concerned expression. Given the lack of color to the edging of her sleeves she was an intermediary disciple, with no other marks to indicate affiliation.

"The distance between two people will only remain the same if no attempt is made to bridge it. The journey of closing it begins with a single step. It is both the most important step and the most inconsequential. Important because it marks the beginning of your resolve. But inconsequential, as its failure costs the least. Should you sprain your ankle on that first step you can easily start again, because you will have lost nothing from it. Your seniors will understand that. Unless you begin by insulting their families or their honor. But I assume that you're smart enough to not do that."

The female disciple laughed as her expression softened, his words clearly removing an immense weight from his shoulders. And from his as well.

He and Qing had grown apart, sure, but they were far too close to simply become strangers from it. And he knew how not to phrase his question, which was basically the same thing as knowing how to say it! In being too considerate he was just making things worse.

Hah! Shen would get a kick out of this, if he ever told him about it. Which would likely be never, since he'd rather not give him something that could so easily be held over his head.

"So, are you still planning on applying to the Imperial Scholars?" he asked, leaning over Qing's shoulder to inspect the assortment of garishly ostentatious knives that had his brother's full attention.

"Huh? Oh, no," his brother replied, giving him a look. "I've decided against that."

"What?" Lee Han blinked, doing a double take as he looked at him again. "I thought that they would have been your first choice. Did you fail the first test? You can always try next year if you just need to improve your physique or qi. Or to study more," he added, rapping a knuckle against his head. "You haven't been neglecting that, have you?"

"No! I haven't!" Qing huffed, pushing his hand away. "I just decided on somewhere else."

"So where?"

"Here," he said, gesturing around him.

"What? Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? It was good enough for you, wasn't it? So why shouldn't I join?"

"Well…this is this, and that is that," Lee Han managed, borrowing Auntie Fang's well-worn line. "I thought you wanted to become a Scholar. You were always talking about how cool they were, and how great it would be to have their swords, and—"

"Gege, I was just a kid back then," he said in a huff. "We all had stupid dreams when we were younger. Like you and beating that Bailong Shen jerk."

"Hey!" Lee Han sputtered. "I have beaten him a few times. And we're sworn brothers now, so don't be disrespectful."

"Go doesn't count. It's not a real fight."

"Well, I've beaten him in sparring too."

"That's not a tournament!" Qing exclaimed triumphantly, sticking out his tongue.

"I haven't had the time to participate in any! Lee Han countered. "There's barely any for cultivators of my level, and I'm busy focusing on other things. Like my training. And spending time with you and Auntie and Uncle."

"That still counts," Qing said, waggling a finger at him.

"Yes, well, that's besides the point. Why aren't you applying to the Imperial Scholars?"

"I just realized that I didn't want to get too tied up by it," Qing replied. His right hand had shifted back to a paw some time during their exchange, and he was idly tapping a claw against the wavy blade of a kris with far too many skulls on its hilt. "They don't get to go home often, you know. They're always busy cultivating or serving the Empire. Travelling around to sort out issues, or just getting trapped under mountains of paperwork. And with things getting worse there's probably going to be more competition than ever these next few years, and so I'd rather secure a spot in another sect than get dragged down by it."

Lee Han had to admit that there was some logic to that. With the threat of more dire times on the horizon, he was sure that it had increased the number of applicants. Certainly those that wanted to act out of nationalistic duty would be applying in droves. But he had no doubt that the other half of the applicants were those that assumed that the threat of conflict would scare away competitors. A shame that their abundant opportunism would eliminate the very thing they were trying to capitalize on.

"But why here?" he asked, rubbing Qing's head. This time affectionately. "Is it because you missed your gege? Because you know that you shouldn't let your emotions determine your path. It's a dangerous way to start your cultivation."

"It's not that," Qing groused, swatting him away with his paw. "I watched that slip you sent Uncle with him. The one with your Shifu fighting the angry fire guy. He said it was interesting, you know."

Lee Han blinked. That was high praise from Uncle Ming, which meant that perhaps the odds of his request succeeding weren't as long as he'd thought.

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's half the reason that the two of them came with me. They wanted to make sure that it was up to the clan's standards before committing two heirs to it."

Well, that and the fact that Lee Han had written requesting that Uncle Ming come. But Qing didn't need to hear that.

"If anything, I think that this trip will only encourage the clan. Especially after hearing that a disciple fought an Imperial Prefect to a standstill."

"Well, I guess that means we might soon be fellow disciples," Lee Han smiled. "Assuming that you don't slack off too much."

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself! You know, the Teal Mountain Sect's no slouch when it comes to their exams. You're going to have to work hard if you want the honor of becoming my Junior."

"Not if I become an Inner Disciple first," Qing countered. "If they'll let that Bailong Shen become one, then anyone can. I'll be your Senior before long!"

"Oh, we'll see about that," Lee Han snarled playfully. "Just you watch: I'll be in one of those jade robes the next time you see me. The difference between heaven and earth is nothing compared to the difference between gege and didi!"

"Wanna bet on it?" Qing asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Does a dragon splash in a stream?" Lee Han asked, extending his hand. "Just be careful you don't bite off more than you can chew. A tiger's always more crafty than the hunter can dream."

"Hey, I was going to use that one next!"

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