“My experience has been vastly different,” Headmistress Lan said. “And don’t worry about your outburst. It’s what we expect from the new Red Dust Pavilion, and we aren’t so thin-skinned as to take offense.”
Hong Xin moved to retort, but Bai Ling cut her off. “I think this conversation might be counterproductive. We’ve come here to get to know each other better and form a basis for cooperation, isn’t that right?”
“Agreed,” Ling Fei said, joining Bai Ling in defusing the situation. “While our core philosophies might be different, they are also complementary. After all, most cultivators have these hopes and dreams, and the most efficient way to encourage them is to stoke those same emotions.
“But without tempering these with calmness, they will sprout heart demons that hinder their advancement,” Bai Ling said. “Professionals and businesspeople are also better off with calmness as a base. Everything is connected.”
“Everything is connected,” Ling Fei echoed.
The two women quieted down and waited while Hong Xin and Headmistress Lan simmered on this. They enjoyed their tea along with small snacks that the two ladies served. They weren’t overly sweet, but neither were they bland. Nor were they too spongy or too dense. These moon cakes were perfectly balanced creations, much like the relationship they sought.
Though Hong Xin wanted nothing more than to tell them of her grand plans for unification, she held her tongue. Much like a newly lit fire couldn’t be used to cook delicious food, relationships needed much nurturing before making significant headway.
“If our discussion thus far has indicated anything,” Hong Xin said. “It is the need for further understanding. Perhaps later, we could supervise each other’s training. I would be very interested in seeing how the Icy Heart Pavilion raises new members. Seeing these two young ladies serve us tea so calmly, I can’t help but think that your training program has diverged from the older, crueler way.”
“Likewise,” Headmistress Lan said. “I’ve heard that your new members aren’t any slower. This whole business of fostering hopes and dreams might seem like nonsense to me, but yin and yang are complementary parts, after all. Maybe seeing one extreme will help us find parallels or flaws in our own methods.”
“How about next week?” Hong Xin asked.
Headmistress Lan paused for a moment, then nodded. “Let’s make it an all-day affair. We’ll first visit the Red Dust Pavilion during the morning when the sun is rising, then you can visit our Icy Heart Pavilion when the sun is setting.”
Both these times coincided with the optimal training times for their disciples.
“Then it’s settled,” Hong Xin said. Though she had her doubts about the other party’s methods, it was important to do as Bai Ling said and keep an open mind. This would not only serve the Red Dust Pavilion better, it would also put her own mind at ease. The deep scars she bore had been left alone for a long time. Only by confronting past experiences could they be healed.
The sun had already set by the time they returned. Though they disagreed heavily on philosophy, the Icy Heart Pavilion and Red Dust Pavilion shared many commonalities, both in cultivation methods and their reverence for the arts. Their tea had eventually turned into an exchange of talents, a light spar, which led straight into dinner. Their guards hadn’t minded, as they’d been properly entertained by the Icy Heart mistresses and the other guards as they’d waited. On the whole, it had been a splendid afternoon.
Hong Xin sighed in relief as she entered her bedchambers but yelped when she saw Wang Jun lying on the lone couch. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice her reaction and simply lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Since she was back in her private chambers, Hong Xin moved to her vanity mirror and dabbed a white cloth in a pungent-smelling solution. She wiped her face, removing spent runic ink and powders. Within seconds, her appearance was back to normal. She removed a few excess hair ornaments and walked over to the sofa. To her surprise, Wang Jun wasn’t staring at the ceiling—he was sleeping.
Sighing, Hong Xin sat beside him and dug into his shoulders with her hands, releasing some of the tension that had built up in his body. His eyes slowly opened, and he smiled when he saw her.
“Silly man, falling asleep while you wait,” Hong Xin said. “What if it wasn’t me but an enemy that found you?”
“Impossible,” Wang Jun said. “Anyone else wouldn’t have seen me lying here. Only someone close, like you or my master, would be able to find me.”
Hong Xin raised an eyebrow at that. He was good at hiding, but when had he become that good?
Wang Jun sat up, and she took another look at him. Though he was still smiling, she could see exhaustion clinging to his face like dampness on a wet shirt.
“What happened?” Hong Xin asked. It wasn’t like him to be so tired. Cultivators didn’t need sleep. What’s more, it had only been two weeks since they’d last seen each other.
“Nothing major,” Wang Jun said. “I’ve been… learning from my master. His teachings are difficult to understand sometimes. They’re especially taxing.”
She noticed the telltale signs of a lie when he spoke. The slight trembling of his throat, a slight aversion of his eyes. At the same time, she saw the telltale signs of truth. A lack of hesitation and a straightforwardness that was difficult to ignore. It wasn’t a lie, but neither was it the complete truth.
“You know that you can tell me anything, don’t you?” Hong Xin asked. “I won’t share what you say with anyone. Not a soul.”
Wang Jun nodded. “I know. How did your meeting go?”
“I don’t remember having told you about it,” Hong Xin said.
“You remember correctly, but I know many things,” Wang Jung said. Though
