Tales of Destiny

Ling Qingge did not know what she expected, when she had shamed herself further, asking her daughter for still more aid. Even if what she said of earning a noble title was true, it would be a small and tenuous rank. Could it do anything but raise notice and ire from an old and entrenched clan like the Central Valley Liu?

She had felt sick to her stomach since the day she had sent that letter. How manipulative she was, to include such old projects as her fumbling music writing, stretching for a connection with Ling Qi even now. Surely if her daughter did try to interfere, it would only draw the actual Liu clan's attention to a meddling upstart. In many ways, she hoped that her daughter would refuse her. Tell her that she was finally asking too much.

Yes, if her daughter had lived so long alone, and survived the ordeal, she would understand how foolish it would be to make such an enemy. So she did her best to put it from her mind and deal with the situation as she could.

Chang was not the worst customer she had entertained in her life. He at least acceded to the use of inn rooms, paid at her expense. And it gave her time.

“You know it doesn’t matter much, but I do wonder what you think you’re gonna do.”

She did not answer him as she straightened her gown. Ling Qingge wished she could bathe, but she did not wish to be away from Biyu any longer than necessary. The little room, meant for renting to caravan laborers, stank badly. It was bitterly amusing that a foolish young girl had once thought a little room like this was the height of romance, dangerous and taboo.

“I will see my debts paid, and then find my way the next day,” Ling Qingge said quietly.

“Hm. Next week, much as I might like to keep going, He Ping’s getting impatient, and I already told him about the place you were trying to squirrel away some coin in,” Chang said, he laid on his back in the straw stuffed bed, arms behind his head, not bothering to look at her.

Ling Qingge did not look at him either. If that was so, Chang was not aware of the large sum of money she had given Min Hua to watch Biyu, or considered it a simple payment. She did not think he was subtle enough to lie. “I see.”

“Had to give him something,” he shrugged. “Next time we meet probably won’t be so much fun.”

She said nothing as she left the room, and returned home.

The letter she found waiting for her there only left her further in turmoil.

Ling Qi had arranged something.

What’s more she was inviting her to come to the Sect, to live there far from all of this, on her daughter's support. Could she? Would she be allowed, or would she be forbid from travel for some petty reason. Could she? The roads were deadly for mortals and though she was sure Ling Qi could afford some few guardians with the wealth she had shown, could Ling Qingge risk Biyu so?

If… If…

There were too many possibilities right now. Days passed, with her thoughts in turmoil. She wished Ling Qi had been more specific in what she had done. What her ‘aid’ was.

It was morning one week later, on the very day she expected her ‘creditor’ that she opened the door to find, not Chang, but a strange old man in a silk robe.

He was a small man, barely as tall as she herself, his hair was wispy and white, but well coifed, with a narrow pointed beard and drooping whiskers that fell low on his chest. Despite the age clear in his wrinkled face, his back was not bent and he bore no cane. His robe was pale green and white, and impossibly clean for a man who had been in the dusty streets of Tonghou.

“Would you be Madam Ling Qingge?” He asked kindly, peering at her through the crack in the door she had opened to peer out.

“I am,” she said warily. She did not recognize him. He was no He or Liu she had ever seen, and yet, she could feel in her bones that this was a cultivator. “May I ask your name and business sir?”

“I am Hong Zhoufu, an employee of the Ministry of Law. My clerks received a missive from your daughter,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I have come to examine your case. May I enter your home, young lady?”

She stared a moment longer than was polite. Merely by his garments, she could tell that this man was not low ranking. An advocate or investigator of the fourth or fifth rank? Third even? Just how much wealth had she convinced her daughter to spend on her? She swallowed hard. “Of course honored sir. I apologize for the conditions.”

But even if this man had some rank at the Ministry of Law, the Liu were still supreme here in Tonghou. But maybe, if he was truly virtuous they could be put off by having to arrange the proper paper trail. If that was so, maybe she could take up her daughter's offer? She stepped back, opening the door wider.

She winced as she looked around the impoverished squalor of her tiny home. But the man brushed past her without commenting on it as he entered. His feet left no prints in the dust.

“Mama? Who's there?”

Biyu peered out from around the corner of the thin dividing wall that partitioned the kitchen from the rest of their hovel.

“Hello little Miss, this old man is only here to help your Mother with something, don’t be frightened now,” Hong Zhaofu said.

Ling Qingge shut the door behind them. He seemed genuine in his geniality. However, the same instinct that had filled her with fear at empty cruelty behind her Liu suitors eyes stirred around this man. There was steel behind his smile, and something that she could only compare to watching the gears of a mill grinding things to powder.

“Yes, Biyu, the gentleman is going to be helping mother for now. Please go play for now,” she said. “Sir, I can offer little but can I make you some tea?”

She had a few old leaves that shouldn’t be bad yet.

“No, no. There is no need. Why don’t we discuss the accusations against you, young lady.”

She felt foolish offering her feeble case to this man. She did not have any of the papers one would receive for taking out a loan with the Ministry of Commerce, but that meant little. She could only offer her story and a few witnesses who might corroborate. Despite her lack of clear evidence, the old man interrogated her on the dates of every interaction quite closely, down to the time at which Chang had first accosted her at the beginning of this.

Indeed, her memory seemed to sharpen and clear to a strange intensity at his gentle questions. It was because of that she did not notice at first when her door clicked open. The latch rattled as it came loose.

From her seat at the table with Hong Zhaofu she looked up to see Chang entering her house, followed by a second and a third man of similar roughness. Behind them, she saw He Ping. Once her cousin, He Ping was a tall, thin man with a well kept thin mustache, who wore his neat ministry robes with great dignity. He was a first realm cultivator, among the most skilled in the clan.

His eyes passed over her home, and then fell on her, and he looked like he was examining trash. “Ling Qingge. I hope you are prepared to turn over the payments to the debt you owe.”

“You know I have done nothing of the sort. You barely allowed me to finish my plea before you denied it,” Ling Qingge said, the words slipped out and she was horrified.”

His eyes widened at her defiance. “Madam, you should be grateful that I do not have the resources or time to investigate the no doubt illicit source of your funds.”

The door clicked shut. Ling Qingge realized that he had not recognized the presence of Hong Zhaofu yet. Who sat on his knees at her table, looking faintly disapproving.

That was, until he spoke. “Young sir. I would very much like to see the receipt of this supposed loan you speak of.”

He Ping’s head jerked a little as he turned to stare at the old man. “...and who might you be, sir?”

“Right now, I am acting as an advocate for this woman. So, I am afraid I do have to ask for your evidence.”

He Ping looked him up and down, a wary expression on his face, behind him, his thugs milled uncertainly. “I do not know who you are, or how this woman might have gained your attention sir. But I assure you this is a matter you do not wish to be involved with.”

He gestured at his belt, where there hung a wooden plate inscribed with the character of the Liu’s name.

“That does not appear to be a receipt, but perhaps my old eyes are going,” Hong Zhaofu said mildly.

He Ping’s brows drew together. “I can tell by your dress that you are no charlatan sir. It is unfortunate that you have been fooled. The papers are at my office, if you truly…”

Hong Zhaofu tsked loudly, and Ling Qingge’s grip on her gown turned white knuckled. That was just too impolite.

“I dislike sloppy youngsters, but such is life. It is good that I retrieved the document myself,” Hong Zhaofu said plainly. He withdrew a fresh roll of paper from his sleeve. “Firstly. I would like you to explain why a document which was clearly drafted no more than a month ago is dated as if it were nearly two years of age.”

“Sir documents are copied anew with some regularity…”

“This is not a copy.” Hong Zhaofu overrode him, iron certainty in his voice. “Further, I would know why there was no withdrawal from the Ministry’s account that day which matches the amount listed here.”

“Whoever you are, you are overstepping yourself sir. I am working directly under the Vice Minister of the Treasury. You are being far too rude. I demand your name and rank.”

The corners of the old man’s lips curled up and he glanced to Ling Qingge. “I am sorry for this scene, young lady, but I did need to hear your own voice on matters to be completely certain of events.”

“Do not ignore-”

Ling Qingge’s window panes rattled. Every speck of dust was scoured from her floor, every stain scrubbed from her table as if it had never been. The kind old man’s eyes were wells of light, and the air about him warped, a thousand thousand neatly penned characters carving themselves into the air and fading in second.

“Senior Magistrate of the Central Valley, Hong Zhaofu is before you, child. And you have little idea how long I have searched for an excuse to compel a full audit against your branch.”

Ling Qingge stared as the men who had come to ruin her life all over again crashed to their knees and slammed their foreheads to the floor, He Ping himself babbling like a child before a rampaging beast.

…What had her daughter done?