The chaos finally had subsided. The tribal chief had vanquished Ximen Qing's guards, forcing both the delinquent and his retainers to exit the courtyard with what little dignity remained. Those who lingered continued their meal, though the air is heavy with muted disillusionment. Even the musicians, sensing the pervasive unease, refrained from lifting their instruments. The culinary delights could not mask the bitterness of a ceremony corrupted, a marriage union meant to honor tradition now reduced to farce. The two households became victims of a shameless scion who merely saw this entire ordeal as an entertainment for defilement.
The patriarch nonetheless remained grateful that the Zhangs had the courage to take the field when most other guests shrank from confronting Ximen Qing's unprecedented provocation. Yet gratitude did little to mend what was already lost. The damage to their reputation had been dealt, and no display of valor could erase the whispering tongues of Ba Sing Se. Still, there is one faint consolation for the Ganjinese. Today's austere gathering has spawned yet another juicier rumor that Lady Qian Jin herself had willingly surrendered her virtue to the notorious delinquent, Ximen Qing. As in most normal societies under heaven, few disgraces could rival the stain of wantonness. Once such a label took hold, it clung with the weight of unyielding shame.
"Though this affair has failed to yield the outcome yours truly intended," the scholar remarked, lifting his cup with a resigned air. "I suppose this exquisite tea may yet drown the bitterness of wasted effort." His tongue loosened, mused that that his scholarly talents seemed forever squandered on trivialities not worthy enough to earn a line in the scrolls of history.
Mayumi also allowed herself a moment of indulgence, savoring the brew's warmth. It is a minor delusion to imagine its consumption might prolong life, but at least it accompanied food worthy of the perfectionist Ganjinese.
At a courtyard table, the White Scholar and his armed retainer dined, joined by the groom who found their measured company more tolerable than the haughty elites who had populated the gathering.
Gong Zi groaned, the gravity of the day's debacle pressing on him, certain that Upper Ring gossip would gnaw at this story for decades. "Shan, it's my wedding, don't hoard all the disappointment," he said, discarding the flower-shaped sash from his chest with a flick. Some guests had departed already, including the dishonored Sun Bin and the bride. The remainder lingered for free sustenance.
"Fear not, brother," the younger Ganjinese scion seated nearby replied lightly. "At least Ximen Qing did not seduce Qian Jin after your union. Such a catastrophe would be even more irreparable!"
Gong Zi shot him a sharp look, though he lacked the energy for anger. In hindsight, his brother's logic bore an uncomfortable truth. "To be honest," he muttered, sipping wine to soothe the humiliation, "I am uncertain whether to feel sorrow or gratitude. Though I bear no fondness for Lady Qian Jin, the situation feels… profoundly erroneous. We were both instructed by Earth Sages in the sanctity of family virtue, and yet—"
"You trust too readily, Young Master Gong Zi," Shan interjected, his tone resumed the usual firmness, though still polished. "Still, yours truly is curious as to why precisely would Ximen Qing disrupt this particular marriage union?"
As a Legalistic scholar, Shan concerned himself far more with the political ramifications than with the moral bankruptcy of a bride who had surrendered her purity to a man other than her betrothed. By orchestrating a deliberately scandalous liaison, the Gan Jin patriarch would be compelled to annul the marriage, setting off a cascade of repercussions that would further tarnish the reputation of General Sun Bin.
One could only hope that this debacle would not compromise the general's ability to command Ba Sing Se's troops.
From a discreet distance, Shan observed his esteemed mentor, the museum director Han Fei engaging in a private discussion with the Gan Jin patriarch over the fallout of the day's events. He savored the luxurious tea, tasting both its bitterness and warmth, all the while contemplating whether he could soften the consequences of Gong Zi's predicament.
"Such is the nature of people. As future patriarch of the Gan Jin, you shall endure trials not unlike this." The White Scholar's words were both counsel and subtle warning to the young heir destined to inherit a ceremonial mantle that would nevertheless carry the weight of public expectation. Today's scandal would indelibly stain Gong Zi's legacy, reinforcing Shan's endorsed philosophical convictions about the inherent fallibility of human nature, which far outweighed any abstract notion of innate morality extolled by the Earth Sages.
"Nevertheless, I still cannot fathom why Lady Qian Jin chose to act upon it," Gong Zi muttered, his gaze fixed upon a plate of half-eaten fish, its delicate flesh already stripped clean. "Why would Ximen Qing stoop to seducing an unmarried woman? I thought his vile pursuits were reserved for those already bound by affection to another. What a despicable creature he is!"
Shan parted his lips from the rim of his teacup. Though he pondered a similar question, he refrained speaking it aloud. Mayumi quietly refilled the scholar's cup, choosing to be just a peripheral observer in this intricate dance of Upper Ring politics.
With the other young gentlemen having already departed the scandalous assembly, Shan delicately pursued more information from Gong Zi's mouth. "The Sun family estate is said to have formidable walls," he began. "I presume you know them well, and that the Gan Jin patriarch visits General Sun Bin's residence for the betrothal process. Does the general admit any other guests?"
Though uncertain why the White Scholar sought such particulars, Gong Zi responded candidly. As a member of the Council of Five, General Sun Bin is an overprotective father. His estate's walls towered twice as high as those of other Upper Ring homes, and no one could simply wander in to mingle with his family. Naturally, Lady Qian Jin herself lived an exceedingly sheltered life. The idea that Ximen Qing could infiltrate such a fortress and seduce the heiress seemed almost impossible.
"Unless he can phase through walls, I fail to see how he could have entered undetected," Gong Zi sighed.
Shan snapped open his white fan to cool himself, a gesture of deliberate contemplation. To Mayumi, it suggested the scholar's renewed interest in the case. If Ximen Qing's audacious claims regarding Lady Qian Jin's birthmark is accurate, hinting at a carnal intrigue meant to sabotage a political marriage, then the question became by what means did the scion of the Ximen clan obtain such a sensitive secret? Regardless, none of the other Ganjinese would now tolerate such a marital union. Even setting aside their fastidious obsession with propriety, most aristocrats would consider it a stain upon their own name to be publicly linked with a family whose heir carried the ignominious mark of promiscuity.
The young scholar closed his fan with the gentle elegance expected of an Upper Ring gentleman, sighing softly. Not even Han Fei's famed eloquence could salvage a union designed to secure General Sun Bin's loyalty to a city not of his homeland. Yet Ximen Qing is no ordinary rogue. Beneath his reputation as a libertine lay a mind both cunning and precise. The greatest casualty would perhaps be the Sun family itself, whose once-sterling prestige teetered on the brink of ruin.
"Say, where did you hire her?" Gong Zi asked abruptly, curiosity flickering in his eyes as they rested on the swordswoman beside the White Scholar. Whispers had long suggested her association with Shan, first noted during the Keju ceremony. The tale of Jin Lian's debacle at Shan's residence had traveled swiftly. A servant, by some miracle or skill, had bested an entire squad of Ximen clan guards tasked with protecting their lady. While members of the Upper Ring typically favored bodyguards drawn from former soldiers, seasoned veterans whose battlefield experience rendered them reliably trustworthy, it is by no means unheard of for some to scout talent from less conventional backgrounds. "Is she a retired wanderer?" Gong Zi inquired further. "Those who perform the so-called washing of hands in the golden basin ceremony are often formidable combatants."
Before Mayumi could clarify her lack of underworld connections, Shan intervened sharply, his voice a stern echo of Legalistic rigor. It reminded the Kyoshi Warrior to be careful with her mouth, and that the tyrannical philosophy still binds the White Scholar.
"The line between wandering vigilantes and rogue bandits is perilously thin," Shan warned. "The philosophical endorsement of yours truly cannot extend to those who flout the codified laws of this city. No matter how virtuous a daofei may appear, they remain beyond our jurisdiction. I have no need for those who disrespect the city's written codes."
The retainer fell silent, acutely aware that even a single word could carry significant consequences.
"Takeko, feel free to explain yourself," Shan said, signaling her while enjoying another sip of tea.
Carefully, Mayumi recounted the rehearsed lie of a former stage performer, skilled in swordplay as required by the operatic traditions of the Earth Kingdom. Her acrobatic prowess is honed through years of theatrical performance, which is a convenient explanation. Though Shan had omitted the nuance that those born beyond Ba Sing Se's walls are often compelled to master combat as a matter of survival.
"Talent may spring from any quarter, even the most obscure," Shan intoned, enforcing the gravitas of a ruthless meritocracy. "To judge hastily by appearances alone is to veil the mind in shadow. Consider these words the true gift from yours truly, Young Master Gong Zi."
Though his expression betrayed nothing, Shan harbored a quiet disappointment. Today's outcome had rendered the hours spent perfecting calligraphies, crafted to impress and secure a marriage alliance, to be ultimately futile. Rising from his seat, he gathered a few spare samples of exquisite tea leaves and moved toward the courtyard entrance. "Yours truly shall take his leave."
Mayumi followed, one hand poised near her sheathed sword, maintaining the elusive role she had assumed.