Chapter 27 – The Commander’s Offer

Lin Shae’s report arrived was what Commander Xu had expected.

Xu Meifen read it while grinding ink for her evening calligraphy, the brush was balanced on the stone beside her and her hair was still damp from her morning washing and it hung loose past her shoulders. The silk robe she wore was the color of sapphire with a loose and low cut and it was chosen for comfort.

“He asked to see the administrative district first,” Lin Shae said, standing near the door. “Then the trade quarter. And then the communal gathering spaces.”

Xu set down the ink stone. “He didn’t want to see the markets?”

Lin Shae shook her head. “He showed no interest. He asked about governance, taxes, and administration.” Lin Shae paused. “He also asked where people learned to read. I explained the military and administrative paths. He said it was a shame there was no school.”

Xu Meifen cupped her chin. “What about you?”

Lin Shae understood the question. “His gaze met mine when I introduced myself but it didn’t linger much. Then he looked away and asked about the administrative district. He didn’t ask me any personal questions, nor did he attempt to isolate us.” A small pause. “He treated me as a guide and nothing more.”

Xu laughed.

Lin Shae blinked.

It was the only crack in her composure Xu had seen from her in two years of working together.

Xu waved her out before she could ask the question that was forming on her face.

Three years of Wen’s quarterly reports had built a picture clear enough that Commander Xu could have written Lin Shae’s account herself.

A boy who had spent three years designing labor rotations and supervising training grounds didn’t walk into a new city and reach for anything outside of his comfort zone.

In essence, she had sent Lin Shae as a test she already knew the answer to.

In the third year Administrator Wen had written that the cultivation training program at Hekou appeared to function primarily through the methodology of the village’s younger son, and that the elder son’s combat output, while exceptional, owed its exceptionalism to the program itself rather than some innate talent.

She picked up the brush and began the first stroke of the character for patience.

The knock came at the expected time.

“Send him in.”

Pei Liang walked through the door and stopped.

She felt his heartbeat before she looked up. It was the first thing she read in any room, the rhythm of whoever had just entered, the way a pulse changed under surprise or pressure or even carefully crafted composure. His was steady, which told her that his composure was real. Then it shifted and bumped to an irregular beat, then it quickly corrected itself.

She kept her eyes on the calligraphy.

The sapphire robe. The loose hair. The bare feet. She had chosen this outfit and her own resting quarters deliberately.

She finished the brush stroke, set the brush down, and then looked up at him.

She allowed herself a small internal amusement.

He had grown. His frame had filled in, the boyish angles were replaced by weathered that she knew all too well. It usually came from responsibility being carried long enough to bear weight upon one’s face. His eyes were the same as she remembered them to be, dark and static, like staring into the night sky itself.

His eyes were also, at this particular moment, reading her. No doubt he was questioning her choice for attire, then came to the conclusion that it mattered little, for if it was no big deal to her, then it should be no big deal to him.

“Commander Xu,” he greeted her with a polite bow.

“Pei Liang,” She nodded her head.

He sat and poured a cup of tea for the both of them.

“Wen’s reports describe your training program as a very significant development in the eastern territory,” she began without preamble.

He took a sip of his tea and nodded. “Wen is as thorough as always.”

She sipped her tea. “The treaty expires this winter, and I will be in need of my twenty-three practitioners to be retrained in your village before the Meishan campaign. It shall be done in groups of four, with the time being three-week cycles, and the first cycle shall begin within the month.”

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He was quiet. She could tell that he was calculating something, what it was she could not deduce, but she figured that he would ask for something in exchange, so she did not hurry him along.

“I’d like to propose something larger,” he said.

Commander Xu raised a brow at his words. “What do you mean by larger?”

“A sect.”

She paused when her cup was halfway to her lips. “A sect?”

“It will be a permanent institution at Hekou. A formal school of cultivation thought, open to military practitioners and civilians from the surrounding region alike. A place where anyone with cultivation aptitude are welcome to join regardless of origin or affiliation. It will be a self-governing body with its own internal hierarchy and admissions process.”

Yea, there was no way that the Lord Of the Western Reaches was ever going to approve of something like that. She had only let him finish his thought out of professional courtesy. “That cannot be done.”

He raised a brow at her words. “Why is that?”

“This ‘sect’ concept, from what I gather, means an institution that operates by its own rules, answers to its own hierarchy, and produces practitioners whose loyalty would be tied to the institution rather than to their Lord.” She kept her voice even despite the audaciousness of the request. Really, she thought he’d realize that much. “Lord Shen Yue does not permit division within his borders. I cannot bring him that proposal.”

He didn’t seem particularly crushed by her words. He simply stiffened his posture and said, “How about a monastery, then. Or a temple devoted to cultivation.”

She sighed. Truly he was observant enough to understand what she was about to say, or maybe she had overestimated him. “Lord Shen Yue has no temples in his territory. He considers organized spiritual practice a distraction from productive governance, and he has maintained that position without exception. He would reject your proposal before I finished the sentence, and my attempt at doing so would also raise questions about my judgment.”