033. the wager

The morning was still dim when Tian Xiaoxu rose. 

He had little time or desire for breakfast—not when it was such a momentous day for his young brother. The crown prince dressed quickly, as plainly as he could to spite the elegance of his wardrobe, and rushed to rouse his sibling. 

“Come on, Yuhui,” he urged, whirlwind quick in the younger Tian’s room, ransacking the boy’s wardrobe for something that wouldn’t draw too much attention to them for their trip to the Zhao district. Xiao barely acknowledged Yuhui’s sleepy whine from under his blankets, throwing clothes atop him to further bury the younger prince in his pile. “Hurry up. I don’t want to tell our parents where I’m taking you.”

Soon enough, the pair were on the streets, cutting through their home district toward the Hua family’s shop. Xiao snagged a pair of steamed buns from a corner vendor setup on the outskirts of Zhongxin market’s sprawl and tossed one to Yuhui. “You’re gonna need to eat something if you’re getting inlaid, Yu’er,” the elder brother advised the younger. “If you pass out, I can’t be held responsible for what I draw on your face.”

Yuhui deftly caught the bun in his hands, freshly balanced from the warding inscribed on his skin, tearing into it with a vigor to match his stride: wide and excited, sleepy but quickly recovering, motivated. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” the younger boy said between bites, eyes sharply directed at his sibling. “I will get you back if you even try. I will make your life a living nightmare.”

Fanxing’s avenues were empty for the hour, still dressed in the long shadows of the fading night. Buildings lay drawn upon the ground with exaggerated proportions, bits of sun streaking long from the angle of its rising over the horizon. The peaked tops of lanterns were occasionally covered with dew and the morning smelled fresh like ozone, clear like silence. A horse cart squeaked two streets over as it rolled toward the road that would take it to the countryside. The clobbering of shod hooves rattled between alleyways still sleepy and not yet ready for the day.

“Is that guy going to be open this early?” The lesser prince made quick work of the rest of his food and pulled the collar of his coat up straight around his neck. The chill of dawn would burn off eventually.

“No, but I don’t want anyone else buying his day before I have a chance to buy it for you,” Xiao grinned. As they walked, a commotion began brewing in the distance. The elder Tian thought it was a little early for that kind of noise but assumed the local fishermen had returned to shore early, boats heavy with their catch. “Have you thought about designs yet? Or are you going to let him decide?”

Yuhui shrugged. “I was thinking something complementary to yours. Not exactly the same but similar enough since mine is the sister of Boon.”

“We’ll see what Hua Jin thinks.” The words were fond and the older boy bumped his brother’s shoulder as he tore off a piece of his bun and shoved it in his mouth. The commotion seemed to be getting louder, angrier, composed of an old woman’s shrilling, unintelligible from their distance, and the shouting of men, the diffused rabble of a crowd of gawkers unmistakable. Xiao looked toward the sound, brow knit, squinting like he could see the disturbance in the air. “…but maybe we should see what that is, first. It sounds like it’s in the direction we’re heading.”

“Mom’s going to be pissed if I get nearly kidnapped again.” Yuhui wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a jape but he meant it either way. As they closed in on the small shop and the clamor of violence, little sounds began to sound familiar. There were tones heard more at home in the privacy of drunken parties, voices raised not with an abundance of drink but anger, layered overtop the sound of smashing and items shoved from their proper places. The familiarity of formality, the harsh galvanization of stern command.

The second heir tilted his chin as the back of the crowd began to part for them, respectful even in their need to witness an unfurling calamity. “Almost sounds like—”

“Ren Li!” 

The harsh, deep tones of their closest friends’ father, Ren Qihua, resonated over the rabble of the crowd. A strict man with a background riddled with war, the king’s closest friend and advisor raised his family with a heavy hand, stringently abiding by the many rules that assured reckless boys grew into proud men. He was dressed in the colours of calm, grey-blues and muted navy, but he was layered in fury, rage rolling off his frame in solar flare snaps. Li was standing before him, hardly dressed. As soon as he caught a glimpse of his best friend, Xiao was alert, ready for an emergency, pushing with all his might to get to the front of the crowd.

“What have you done? You’ve defaced your body, tore out all the tracers the celebrated Ling Di embedded in your skin, ruined my name in this beggar’s bed!” The father was a lion’s roar when he backhanded his son into the dirt. “Ren Li: are you a son of mine? I did not raise a vagrant whore, so why must you behave as one?”

It hurt to move. It hurt to fall but that was already over with. Now Li would have to get back up despite his body screaming every warning to not embark on such an endeavor, muscles revolting in a seething rage against the texture of the dirt without a fresh batch of the corydalis to calm them. When he rolled on his side, the oldest of the Ren children felt worse. When his injured arms pushed his torso up he wanted to cry out.

All of this wasn’t what it seemed, was it?

Or was it exactly as it seemed?

Ren Li’s head was a confused swarm of thoughts focused on mitigating his troubles and those that he’d caused the Hua family. For a moment, he thought he would never forget the shrieking of Hua Ruizhi as her vases were smashed in the mad search for his body. Li didn’t know how he would ever look Jin in the eyes again. He didn’t know if he had the strength to lift his eyes even to the man responsible for his birth and upbringing and success. Jin’s voice rang in his head over the thunder of courtly punishment. So many hours ago the inlayer joked that his grandmother would think the Ren boy was a hussy—now, his father very much did.

Li’d never been publicly shamed before, never talked back to any hand that raised him.

“F-father, please—” He was shaking like he was laid in the shadow of the end of the world. That shadow was shaped like the patriarch of his family, his own blood and bones. “It’s not what it seems. I was having them improved upon. I beg for your discretion to allow me a proper explanation.” There were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, cheek red with the embers of a handprint.

“What good is an explanation where there is evidence, Ren Li.” Was it better or worse when a father’s quiet overtook the volume of his rage? “You are disgusting—a disgrace. Your mother will weep for the loss of her son when she hears of this, will weep for the scars that mark his every poor choice. What example do you give to your brother? What have you thrown your sacred tracers away for? For some nobody the Crown Prince visited once—O N C E, Ren Li.”

Similarly half dressed, Jin finally broke away from his grandmother’s vice-grip hold and plowed straight through the line of guards blocking the shop’s entrance, falling to his knees and then his hands before the courtier’s father, forehead to the ground. “Please, Master Ren. Don’t blame him for what I talked him into. I persuaded him to let me reset his tracers, he was unconscious when I did the work.” Righting himself and sitting on his heels, the artist pressed his hands together, like praying would save Ren Li’s honour from the dirt in front of his broken door. “Blame me. I am at fault. I will take his punishment. Please, I will take his punishment.”

“Don’t do this, you’ll die for nothing.” Li’s words were harsh on a breath, directed to the artist he couldn’t bear to see. He spoke louder, “Father don’t punish him please, Hua Jin has done nothing wrong. He has only tried to make a living for his grandmother and himself.”

“I won’t lie so you can suffer this alone!” Jin grabbed Li’s hand and looked up at the Ren patriarch, defiance in his eyes. He wanted the king’s advisor to see who was truly responsible here:

Jin would be the whore if it would save Li’s life,

Jin would be the ambitious braggart who mutilated the Ren clan’s eldest son.

“YOU WILL NOT PUNISH HIM!” Fighty thing, Ruizhi screamed at the king’s advisor like her name was all embedded in these streets, as though she and he stood on both literal and metaphorical even ground. It took two of the Ren’s guards to hold the seventy year old back from joining the turmoil of the clearing, lingering just near the edge, a struggle of elderly limbs darkening her open door. “YOU WILL LET HIM GO AND YOU WILL PAY ME FOR THE DAMAGE YOU HAVE CAUSED IN MY SHOP TODAY!”

“Your grandson destroyed my son’s body,” the father sneered at the old woman. “Whatever damage we have caused recovering him before your grandson could murder him is a fraction of what you owe the Ren clan, old woman.”

Yuhui, hot on the heels of his brother pushing forward through the thicker patches of the crowd didn’t quite stop when the sea of bodies suddenly gave way, smashing into him and sending them both stumbling ahead—an unceremonious announcement of presence for the pair of royals.

“Actually, the Crown Prince has been here twice now,” the younger prince corrected, retort edged with frustration.

The crowd gasped and began whispering as soon as Tian Xiaoxu was pushed into the clearing by his brother’s collision. Not quite prepared, the crown prince recovered quickly, standing tall, chin high, ready to posture to save both his friend and the inlayer clutching his hand. 

“My Prince,” Ren Qihua said, strain obvious in his voice when he dipped his head, hands held before him in a deeply respectful bow. “This is a family conflict. Please do not concern yourself with these affairs.”

With a graceful strength that mirrored his father’s regal movements, so different from the slouching youth that had walked through Fanxing’s empty streets just moments prior, Tian Xiaoxu halted Ren Qihua’s gesture. “That is not necessary: you are like my uncle, zongzhu Ren. Li is like my brother. And Hua Jin is my inlayer, the artist I’ve chosen to set both myself and my brother. So if this is a family conflict, dashu, I will have to insist: I must intercede.”

“So be it,” the patriarch of the Ren family conceded, straightening his back. “Then if this is a family matter, we shall discuss it as one. I hope you will grant me the candor of a query: you would look upon your brother butchered before you and wish the same of yourself, of your kin? You would go against the will of the King and the artist he carefully selected to inlay all members of the royal court to chance a shady scalpel in Fanxing’s district full of scoundrels?”

The crowd didn’t seem to enjoy being called scoundrels, murmuring their disapproval at the man’s judgement.

Yuhui moved behind his brother, stepping in front of Li to offer a hand and help him up before extending that same hand to the tattooist, skin scribed in inkblood and phantom magicks.

Nodding his thanks to Yuhui silently, Jin looped an arm around Li’s waist to support him. Li was in no state to be up and about, much less dragged half nude before a crowd. Jin’s rage simmered between his brows, dark eyes a scourge on the Ren patriarch’s proud stance, his calm questions, his ulterior motives.

“I will answer you with integrity, as I always do: I have come to the Zhao district to do the same as my brother, dashu.” The lie was a small one. Xiao was willing to prove his word if pressed. As he spoke, he paced a short path, separating Ren Qihua from his son, protecting his wounded friend like a tiger. “The people who live here are good and kind, hardworking and talented. We should not be so narrow-sighted that we only trust artisans within our own class; we must give people opportunities in order to innovate as a society. It seems that you are unaware of Hua Jin’s abilities so please: it would be my honour to explain why I have chosen Hua Jin over Ling Di. Just as Ren Li has always been able to change water to steam or ice and Ren Fei has been called the water mirror since he was old enough to speak, Hua Jin is gifted with the ability to enchant the tracers that link our artifacts to our cores. We can further customize our spells; we can modify our abilities to our liking.”

Stopping, Xiao put a finger to his lip and looked at Li’s father, head tilted. “Dashu, please correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this an ability that only the Zhenxi clan has been able to access for centuries?”

“If my Prince were to ask, I would advise him to be cautious.” Ren Qihua drawled as slow as a sword being pulled from its scabbard. “Words are light as a feather and all questions have an answer. Is my Prince sure that he wants to commit these curiosities to air?” The insinuation was bold, so bold that it made the inlayer’s keeper gasp in her human restraints. The Zhenxis were a clan of only daughters—only mothers and sisters, aunts and girlfriends, widows black whose gazes were mantis-sharp when they cleaned the blood of men from their many blades.

“And regardless,” the older man continued, “Ren Li has disgraced his blood and acted out of turn. How would my Prince suggest that a father seek recompense for the defiance his son has shown this day? For the shame his impudence has caused, like a shroud draped over the spotlessness of the Ren name.”

Xiao struggled to keep himself from looking back to Li; he kept his head held high, standing tall and strong in every claim he made.

“If I am honest, I am the one who is at fault: we will be challenging the Jade Millipede as a team next week. It was my pressure that led Ren Li to undergo such a drastic amount of work.” The prince looked down at his elder but not with disdain, his superior height and his raised chin made any other view impossible. “If my dear uncle is willing, I would like to propose a wager.”

Ren Qihua focused back on his son as though his own gift was the ability to determine the lies of others on the contours of his eldest boy’s face but there was nothing there—nothing but shame, blushing bright on his stinging cheeks, mortification running hot in his veins even as he leaned into the inlayer, even as his eyes remained focused on the dirt he thought himself better suited for.

“As you know, I would be delighted to hear what my Prince would propose.” The gruffness of his voice turned into a contrary key. That high-ranking advisor was far from any emotion in the realm of delight.

“The pride you will feel if your son is the champion who wins the Jade Millipede will surely salve the shame he has brought on his name this day,” Xiao began slowly, eyes steady on the elder. “If my team wins the Millipede, you will apologize to my artist publically and provide him with real estate close to Skyline Manor so he may cater to the court officially. Your son will return home and he will be treated with great honors. Should my team lose, I will renounce my claim to the throne. Ren Li and I will both secede from our names and exile ourselves to Yunji where we will serve Luanshi. Does this wager satisfy your grievances, dashu?”

The onlookers gasped at the high stakes game the Prince proposed but Xiaoxu seemed nonplussed, jaw tight, brow nonchalant. 

The Ren patriarch remained silent for a moment, stone-faced from the practice of his age, strict in his typical manner exacerbated by the collected roil of his anger. Qihua was generally rather fond of the crown prince, thought him wise for his age, respectful and sharp. Now that his wisdom and wits were being turned against him, the man was having a more difficult time finding the appropriate appreciation.

“It does,” he replied finally, “I accept your wager, my Prince.”

“Then it is done,” the Prince said with the bowing of his head. “My team will train in solitude with Master Xueyu at Yunji; you will not be bothered with the sight of your son again until the challenge.” Xiaoxu paused, looking at the house they stood before: the broken doors, the smashed vases in the entryway, the trampled flowers all over the floor. He took great care making sure he spoke clearly, projecting loud enough to be heard by the expanding crowd. “Regardless of our wager, dashu, you will send every artisan the Ren clan retains to repair the damage to the Hua family’s establishment. You will replace this woman’s belongings with those found in your own home; you will replace her flowers with those cultivated in your own gardens.” The young man turned back to Ren Qihua, head once more held high. “Regardless of class, we should take great strides to care for our elders—wouldn’t you agree, Zongzhu Ren Qihua?”

“Yes, my Prince.” Those were the last words the old man would say to the heir, they were the last words the former pride of the Ren line would hear from his father for days. He departed on the bend of a generous bow, curled fingers beckoning his stable of guards away from the elderly woman and all her mussed belongings. The crowd, sensing that the show was mostly over, began to disperse.

Li was on the cusp of lifting his head to express his gratitude to the royal, his best friend, his brother in arms, however he was pushed aside by Hua Ruizhi. She was a flurry of unpracticed politeness, unable to quite manage proper protocol when greeting members of the royal family, but she was nonetheless grateful, a warmth of affection flush across her cheeks like a tizzy unwilling to fade, even in the coming quiet.

“Thank you, Prince Tian, thank you for saving my grandson’s life today.”

“Ren Qihua has become a bully as he’s aged,” Xiao replied, dry and unimpressed as his gaze lingered long on his best friend, the artist, and then his brother. The gravity of what he’d wagered weighed heavy upon his shoulders; his brow quirked in a softer expression of apology to the younger Prince for the weight he’d unwittingly placed on his shoulders as well. “I am hopeful that all the damaged items can be replaced. I will pay you for your grandson’s time and I will send servants from the Tian house to help you in his absence. I pray that will help to ease the suffering caused by this event.”

Jin’s head suddenly snapped up. “Wait. I’m going too?”

Xiao shrugged. “You said you wanted to debut. Besides, everyone and their mom is going to try to beat me now to make me lose. You’re going to have to re-lay the lot of us to work as a unit. Can you do that?”

“You can,” Ren Li assured the boy he’d spent the night with, looking up to him with a calm desperation in his eyes. “I know you can.”

“You have to,” Ruizhi insisted, kicking some floral detritus aside as she herded the makeshift team into her destroyed shop. “You owe it to these boys who helped you. Besides, Fanxing cannot lose such a good prince, and if you win you get a better shop, more business, more opportunity. This curse has become a blessing—do not waste it, Jin’er.”

“Xiao has placed a massive bounty on our heads,” Yuhui sighed, careful step avoiding sparkling shards that would later be swept up by his family’s own staff. “We need all the help we can get. Word has probably already made it back to Feng Quan, who is sure to come at us with everything he has for a chance to see the Crown Prince fail.”

Jin didn’t respond to the questions, didn’t respond to the pressure being placed on him by that royal family, the woman who raised him: instead, he took a little more of Li’s weight, holding him tight to the lines of his body, intent on taking him back where he’d been so rudely removed. “A-po,” he said quietly. “Can you prepare the Corydalis again? Riding to Yunji is a tough journey. I’d like Ren Li to be comfortable.”

Li’s fingers caressed the skin where his hand lay wrapped around the artist, cheek turning to nestle into his neck. Even before his small audience, the advisor-in-training couldn’t help his affection. He couldn’t deny the immediate satisfaction of kindness given in the ebbing heat of their morning. 

“Wait—“ the Ren boy said as he was beginning to move by Jin’s command. “I need to apologize to all of you for the harm I’ve caused today. To you, Hua Ruizhi, for the destruction of your business and house. To you, Hua Jin, for the humiliation I’ve forced upon you.” Li turned his chin to Xiaoxu. “My Prince, your bravery and graciousness knows no bounds. You did not have to put your future on the line for me and yet you have. I hope you know that no matter what comes of this battle I will happily live and die at your side.” To the younger Tian, then. “Young Prince Tian Yuhui, I am mortified that you had to see me like this. I would be indebted to you if you would go visit Ren Fei and see that he is okay before we leave for Yunji.”

Yuhui nodded slowly, agreement easily found despite his frustration with his friend when worry overshadowed the small issues between them. “Sure. I’ll go see him. I will have him pack up your things for our stay.”

“Please understand that I do not wish to make the prince an errand boy for my benefit,” Li bowed his head in his assurance, genuine, grateful.

“Don’t worry,” the younger royal replied, “It’s no trouble.”

“Knock it off, Ren Li. Our futures have always been intertwined: now I’m just gambling on it,” Xiao laughed, a braggart to bolster his friend’s confidence, even if he looked at Li with eyes always preparing for absolute catastrophe. “But, uh, Yu’er: don’t spend the time packing. Just get Fei and get out—he can come to Yunji with us. We need a fifth anyways. I’ll go home to let Mom and Dad know what happened and I’ll have our attendants pack enough clothes for both Li and Fei.”

Jin altogether ignored Li’s apology: what did he know about humiliation? He barely had a reputation to begin with. He hugged the noble a little tighter to his side, leaning into his tender affection. “Li can go in three hours. I’m sorry to be a burden, but…” The artist cleared his throat. “We don’t own a horse.”

The ancient miniature donkey Ruizhi kept in the back garden to occasionally pull her flower carts did NOT count as a horse.

“Nonsense, Jin’er!” Entering the hall that led the crooked way to the kitchen, Ruizhi shifted and gestured back to her grandson. “You can take Duo—she pulls carts, she can lug you around too. Donkeys are the best at climbing mountains, you know. It’s their small feet.” 

“Or you can use my horse. I’m not in the best state to drive it anyway,” Li commented.

“SEE JIN’ER THIS IS WHAT GETS YOU IN TROUBLE! You go for horse rides with boys into the mountains and before I know it you are married off and there was no agreement for the dowry and I am not given what I’m due for such a skilled, young man. Do not be dishonorable, you remember all those curses I told you about, eh? For boys who misbehave. Look at Prince Tian—you can learn so much from him. He is noble and honorable. He only has one throne to give up for you, son!”

“Duo is older than me. By twenty years, at least,” Jin commented, quiet enough that his grandmother wouldn’t hear. He shifted, heading toward his little studio and his bedroom atop it. “Now: you rest. We’ll be ready in three hours. We’ll meet at the Tian estate.” Finally the artist looked up at Tian Xiaoxu, a toiling murk of unsifted emotion captive behind tight lips, steady brow. “Thank you, Tian Xiaoxu. For saving Ren Li’s reputation; for giving me this opportunity. Thank you.”

The royal waved the pair of older boys off, turning his gaze toward the broken door. “Just take good care of my friend, okay? He’s really important to me.”

After watching the old woman disappear into the strange configuration of her hall, Yuhui caught his brother’s hand and gave it a tug. “We should go. Walk with me to the Ren estate, okay?”

Xiao lingered for a moment, watching his best friend disappear down the hall in the arms of Hua Jin. So much had happened in such a short amount of time but the crown prince chose not to assume, chose to step over the mire of messy suppositions that surrounded the pair—he was sure Li would fill him in later.

“Yeah,” the older boy replied as he turned to his brother, hand warm on his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll walk you there.”