My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 120: Six Beds in the Guest Quarters

The accounts room window stood half-open. The first of the Third Month sun slanted under the eaves and fell across the scroll of yellow silk on the desk.

Bai Xiaoman spread the formation layout flat on the table, two paperweights pinning the corners, then lifted the yellow silk from her cloth bundle and unrolled it whole. She smoothed it with her palm from top to bottom, working out to the edges, then set a wooden ruler against it and measured, inch by inch, all the way across. When she finished, she rolled the silk back up—tighter than before—wrapped a cloth strip around it, and returned it to the bundle.

”No cutting?” Xu Yan asked.

”No cutting.” She took out the packet of cinnabar and squeezed the four corners of the oiled paper, leaving it sealed. ”Once cinnabar dries on paper, one fold and it cracks. Eighty li of official road jolting to Linchuan, the banners would be nothing but fractures.”

”So paint when we get there?”

”Paint when we get there. Close the window, bring the lamp closer.” She rolled up the formation layout too. ”The cinnabar has to be ground fine, and each stroke laid down in one pass. Stop halfway and you canʼt pick it up clean again.”

Xu Yan reached out and pressed the layout flat, unrolling half of it to look. The paper was marked with the trial circle, grid by grid. Four small circles marked the banner positions, with charcoal notes along the edge recording the planting order. He didnʼt ask which grid was which, only: ”Four banners enough?”

”Four is exactly right.” Bai Xiaoman counted on her fingers. ”One banner covers one direction. After the cinnabar is painted thereʼll be a layer left, and the trimmings from cutting the silk come back too—useful for patching banner corners. Donʼt leave them at the guest quarters.”

”Write the planting order clearly first.” Xu Yan pushed the paper back. ”Once weʼre at Linchuan and hands get rushed, things scramble.”

”Itʼs written clearly.” She pointed it out for him. ”East Wood, South Fire, West Metal, North Water. I stand east and plant the first banner, circle south, and by the time I come back around the formation holds up.” She folded the layout in half. ”All four banners up and only then does the formation rise. Missing one, itʼs just a piece of cloth.”

Xu Yan asked nothing more. He watched her put the three items back one by one into the cloth bundle, the knot tied tighter than before. She hugged the bundle to her chest and stood by the table without leaving.

”Sect Master, Senior Sisterʼs round...”

”The names are submitted,” Xu Yan said.

”I know.” She looked down and shifted the bundle closer to her chest. ”Iʼve calculated it four times. Four rounds, need three wins.”

At Horse hour, Qi Qi came down the mountain. By Monkey hour he was back up from the Mountain Gate, the dust of the carriage yard on his shoes, and reported at the accounts room door: ”Cartʼs booked. Tomorrow at Mao hour, in front of the Luoxia Carriage House. One cart, six fit tight.”

”How oldʼs the mule?” Xu Yan asked.

”The owner led it out to show me. Didnʼt say teeth, legs are steady.” Qi Qi said. ”For the return, just tell the yard on the first day and thatʼs it. Cart fare is paid the morning we leave.”

At Wei hour in the Medicine Hall, Cheng Banshan set a small clay jar on the counter. The mouth was covered with wax paper, hemp cord cinched around it twice.

”Change it once a day. You do it.” He pushed the jar toward Bai Xiaoman. ”When you take off the cloth, moisten the edges with the decoction first. Donʼt tear it off dry. One tear and youʼve wasted three days of healing.”

”On the road, the jolting—will it rub off?” Bai Xiaoman asked.

”Wrap it with two layers of cloth. Not tight—wrap it too tight and the blood canʼt flow, and that patch of skin is even harder to regrow.” Cheng Banshan tucked his empty sleeve behind his back and lifted his chin at her. ”If she says it doesnʼt hurt, pretend you didnʼt hear it. Keep your hands moving.”

Bai Xiaoman held the jar in both hands and asked one last question: ”How many days?”

”That depends on her pulse, not my medicine.” Cheng Banshan said. ”Once youʼre at Linchuan, change it once a day. Miss a day, and Iʼll be able to feel it when I get back.”

At the end of Monkey hour in the East Courtyard, Jiang Wan laid her sword across her knees and wiped the sheath with a cloth.

Two patches of lacquer had worn off the sheath, and the bronze band around the mouth was scuffed. She pressed her fingernail along the worn-white spots, her finger stopping at the sheath mouth. She lifted a hand to draw the sword and check the blade, but halfway up she lowered it again. She set the sword, still sheathed, against the bed, within armʼs reach. She sat in the room for a while, listening to sounds from the front courtyard, then threw on the old jacket with sleeves half a foot too long and came out.

At You hour, the sun outside the accounts room slipped below the eaves. She stood beyond the threshold, not coming in.

”The viewing stand. Iʼll go,” she said.

Xu Yan looked up at her. He watched her for a moment, then said: ”Go.”

”Iʼll sit in the front row.” She pulled the jacketʼs front edges together. ”My nameʼs submitted. Sitting in the stand counts the same.”

”In the cart you sit in the middle. Shi Po sits on the outer side,” Xu Yan said.

She didnʼt answer that. She turned and walked back toward the East Courtyard. Going down the steps, her left shoulder dipped an inch, then straightened again.

At Dog hour in the Kitchen, Qian Duoduo was frying flatbread. He dusted the pan with a thin layer of dry flour, flipped one after another until he had a full stack, then wrapped them in cloth bundles, tying each mouth shut with a cloth strip—six in all.

”By the third day the breadʼs hard.” He stacked the six packets and patted them twice. ”Soak them in hot water. Donʼt chew them dry—chewing them dry is hard on the teeth.”

”Give Shi Po one extra,” Xu Yan said.

”Already did.” Qian Duoduo lifted his face. ”His packetʼs tied with a double knot.”

Before dawn on the second, the six of them came down from the Mountain Gate.

Shi Po carried two bundles: one his luggage, the other the bread and medicine Shao Ming had tied up the night before. Huo Qing walked at the front with a lantern. Qi Qi flanked to the side. Bai Xiaoman hugged the bundle of formation materials. Jiang Wan walked in the middle.

The mountain path took two hours. On the descents her left shoulder would sink, and each time it did, she shortened her stride, waiting out the wave before walking on. Shi Po followed behind; when she slowed, he slowed, not asking. Once Qi Qi reached out a hand to steady her arm—one look from her, and he pulled it back.

At the Mountain Gate, Nie Bo swept the ground as usual.

At Mao hour in front of the Luoxia Carriage House, the cart was already hitched. Qi Qi counted four spirit stones into the carterʼs hand, laying them one by one into his palm. Shi Po boarded first, sitting on the outer side. Jiang Wan sat middle, Bai Xiaoman beside her, tucking the cinnabar bundle behind her lower back.

”Thatʼs cinnabar,” Jiang Wan said.

”Itʼs wrapped. Wonʼt leak,” Bai Xiaoman said.

The cart left town and hit the official road, the sun rising ahead. This trip jolted harder than the one on the eighteenth of last month. The road was rutted from stone-hauling carts; when the wheels dropped in, bodies bounced. Jiang Wan never leaned against the cart side. She sat tilted forward, one hand gripping the cart rail.

”Once weʼre through the city gate at Linchuan, that stretch of flagstone is rough underfoot,” Qi Qi said. ”From where we get off, itʼs two quartersʼ walk to the guest quarters. Itʼs dusty—donʼt open that Huichun Hall bundle out in the open.”

”Iʼll carry it hugged,” Bai Xiaoman said.

”Senior Sister sits in the very front row,” Qi Qi went on. ”If anyone behind says something ugly—”

”Then let them say it.” Jiang Wan turned her face to the yellow dust kicking up outside the cart. ”Iʼve heard it all in the ring.”

Xu Yan leaned against the cart side with his eyes closed. ”The viewing stand has its own people. You sit there, and donʼt look back.”

Midway they rested under an old pagoda tree while the carter watered the mule. Shi Po opened one packet of flatbread and passed one to each. Huo Qing ate half and put his away, leaning against the tree with his eyes shut, the tension never leaving his neck. Qi Qi walked a full circle around the cart and came back to report there was no one on the road behind them. Jiang Wan broke her flatbread in half—one half to Bai Xiaoman—and chewed the rest slowly, setting it down halfway through.

Boarding again, Jiang Wanʼs grip on the cart rail was tighter than before. Bai Xiaoman pressed her hand to the cloth behind Jiang Wanʼs waist. Under her palm the warmth rose, and she drew back to look at her fingers. A faint red.

”A little seeping,” Bai Xiaoman whispered close to her ear.

”Not much,” Jiang Wan said. ”Donʼt make a fuss.”

”The medicine jarʼs in the bundle. Weʼll change it when we arrive.” Bai Xiaoman wiped her hand on the bread cloth and slipped a fresh piece of cloth behind Jiang Wanʼs back.

At Monkey hour, the cart stopped in the carriage yard outside Linchuan. The carter wrapped the reins around the cart shaft and looked back at them. ”For the return, come tell the yard on the first day. Leave at Mao hour again, arrive Luoxia Town at Monkey hour.”

”Iʼll come on the third, Monkey hour,” Qi Qi said.

The six passed through the city gate. The flagstone cracks were full of loose dust. By the time they reached the row of guest quarters behind the Sect Alliance Dongzhou Branch, every shoe was filmed white. The same room as the preliminary round: six beds, two bunks against the walls, one plank table with a clay lamp stand, an old cloth curtain under the window. Huo Qing and Shi Po took the end near the door, Jiang Wan in the back, Bai Xiaoman beside her. Xu Yan and Qi Qi were on the table side.

At Dog hour, Qi Qi fetched a pot of hot water from the kitchens. The six ate flatbread with the hot water, then wrapped up the rest and tied it to a bundle. Huo Qing unbuckled the sword from his back and slid it under his bed board, then went out the back door to the open ground behind to practice that one thrust—thrust and retract, his hand pressing at the sheath mouth on each return. Shi Po followed to watch, said nothing, and came back with just one comment: ”That ground can hold a stance.”

Bai Xiaoman drew the curtain, lit the lamp, and changed Jiang Wanʼs medicine. Xu Yan sat at the other end of the plank table and opened the ledger. He dipped the brush in ink and wrote one line: Third Month, Second Day, cart fare four spirit stones. Below it were no other expenditures and no income. He tallied to the end—balance on hand, 2,073 spirit stones—and set the brush down to let the ink dry.

Inside the curtain, Bai Xiaoman first moistened the bandage edges with the decoction, peeling layer by layer. The red swelling on the shoulder had receded some, thin skin forming at the edges; the open split on her back had closed over in a glossy layer. Her hands never trembled, though they paused once at the last strip.

”Say if it hurts,” Bai Xiaoman said softly.

”It doesnʼt,” Jiang Wan said.

Bai Xiaoman didnʼt answer. She smoothed on the new medicine, wrapped the cloth in two layers, tested the tightness twice. ”Tomorrow, same time to change it,” she said. ”Not in the morning.”

”In your second round, donʼt stand at the center of the ring when you plant the banners.” Jiang Wan said. ”The banners need to fall toward the edges, so your body has to move outward.”

”Iʼll remember.” Bai Xiaoman re-covered the jarʼs mouth with wax paper.

The curtain lifted halfway. Jiang Wan sat on the edge of the bunk, jacket draped on, untied. She looked at the page of ink on the plank table.

”Tomorrow at Mao hour, Iʼm going to the Branch,” Xu Yan said. ”To ask the Rank Evaluator to conduct the body inspection herself.”

Jiang Wanʼs hand stopped on the jacketʼs front edge. A moment passed before she said: ”She wonʼt agree.”

”I know.”

”You know, and youʼre still going.”

”To ask once.” Xu Yan set the brush on the rest. ”If I ask and she refuses, then my word has been said. Whether she agrees—thatʼs hers.”

”What are you going to ask her?” Jiang Wan lifted her head. ”You donʼt have proof, and you refuse to say anything without it.”

”Just one sentence: For todayʼs body inspection, I ask the Rank Evaluator to conduct it personally.” He trimmed the lamp wick and the flame sank. ”If she asks who Qingya suspects, I answer that without proof, I say nothing.”

Jiang Wan watched him for a while, then tied her jacket. ”Then ask once. After youʼre back, four rounds, need three wins. The rest happens in the ring.”

”Mm.” Xu Yan closed the ledger and tucked it against his chest. ”Still have to ask once.”

He blew out the lamp. Jiang Wanʼs sword leaned by the bunk, sheath mouth facing outward.