The Provocation

The outer storehouse stood in the northeastern corner of Zhao Mansion, inside a courtyard of blue bricks. Thick green moss covered the top of the wall.

Li Tui followed Zhao Yuanchong inside. The moment they crossed the threshold, he saw several wooden crates piled in the courtyard. Their lids stood open, revealing neatly stacked blue stone bricks. They were Qingling Stones, used exclusively for cultivation chambers; a single one was worth a month's allowance for an ordinary young disciple.

Two servants were carefully loading the crates onto a wheelbarrow.

The old storekeeper, Mr. Chen, was bent over a ledger, writing something down. When he saw Zhao Yuanchong enter, he hurriedly set down his brush and came to greet him. "Third Master."

"Where's the tea Second Brother brought back?" Zhao Yuanchong sat down in a chair and crossed his legs.

"It's inside." Mr. Chen turned and headed into the inner room.

But Zhao Yuanchong's gaze fell on the crates. "Where are these Qingling Stones going?"

Mr. Chen paused. His Adam's apple bobbed. "The... family head ordered them sent to that courtyard in the southwestern corner."

He spoke vaguely, not mentioning Zhao Wen by name, using only the words "that courtyard."

Zhao Yuanchong understood. One corner of his mouth twisted, and he let out a mocking laugh. "For that jinx?"

Mr. Chen bowed even lower and didn't dare answer.

Li Tui stood quietly to the side, his gaze sweeping over the crates. Qingling Stones were heavy; each crate held at least twenty or thirty. That was enough to build two high-grade cultivation chambers.

"He's a jinx," Zhao Yuanchong said as he rose and strolled over to the crates. "What makes him worthy of Qingling Stones?"

Sweat appeared at Mr. Chen's temples. "The family head ordered it... This old servant is only following instructions."

Zhao Yuanchong said nothing. He reached into the crate and picked up a Qingling Stone. A gentle blue glow shimmered across his palm, and spiritual energy faintly swirled within it.

"The cultivation chamber in my room," he said slowly, "is still using the old materials it was fitted with three years ago."

He weighed the stone in his hand, then suddenly slammed it back into the crate!

The Qingling Stone struck the side of the crate with a dull thud. Chips flew everywhere.

Mr. Chen shuddered in fright, his back bent until he was almost touching the ground.

Zhao Yuanchong stared at the crate for a long moment, then suddenly laughed. His laugh was cold and short, like shards of ice falling onto stone.

"Fine," he said. "So the family's planning to dote on that jinx now."

He turned away without another glance at the crates. "Where's the tea?"

Mr. Chen hurriedly brought out a black-lacquered wooden box and carefully set it on the table. Inside were several packets of tea wrapped in oiled paper.

Zhao Yuanchong didn't even look at it. He raised his chin toward Li Tui.

Li Tui stepped forward and took the box. It was heavy in his hands.

The two of them left the outer storehouse, one after the other. At the corner, Zhao Yuanchong suddenly stopped and looked back toward the storehouse.

"Qingling Stones..." he murmured, the words squeezed through his teeth. "The family's set on feeding that jinx."

Li Tui didn't reply. He simply stood there holding the wooden box.

Zhao Yuanchong hadn't expected an answer. He turned and continued walking. His steps were quicker than before, and the hem of his brocade robe stirred the air.

When they returned to the main courtyard, Zhao Yuanchong didn't go back to his room. He went straight to the training room at the rear.

Li Tui stood outside the door and heard the muffled thud of fists striking wood from within.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

One blow followed another, steady and unhurried, each heavier than the last. This wasn't training. It was venting.

After twenty or thirty blows, the sound stopped. A moment later, Zhao Yuanchong's voice drifted out of the darkness. "Wang Yuan."

"This servant is here."

"Tell Instructor Zhao that starting tomorrow, I'll train for an extra hour every day."

Li Tui answered that he would and turned to leave.

"Wait." Zhao Yuanchong called after him again, his voice a little lower. "Go to the study too... Tell Uncle Sheng I read Annotations on the Treatise of Nourishing Qi today and there were a few things I didn't understand. Say I'd like him to explain them to me."

His words were stiff, as if he'd memorized them.

Li Tui paused, but still answered, "Yes."

He carried the wooden box toward the courtyard gate, the lump on his chest throbbing faintly with every step. The scene in the outer storehouse kept replaying in his mind: the Qingling Stones, Mr. Chen's evasive words, the vicious force with which Zhao Yuanchong had smashed the stone.

Something was wrong.

Zhao Wen was an orphan from a collateral branch, saddled with the name "jinx." Even if the clan wanted to support him, they should have done it discreetly. Shipping in Qingling Stones with such fanfare was practically like... like putting on a show for someone.

For whom?

Li Tui slowed his steps.

Zhao Yuanchong's reaction today had been far too obvious: anger, resentment, and the fury of someone pushed to the brink.

Was the Zhao Family... provoking him?

Using Zhao Wen as a thorn to jab into Zhao Yuanchong's soft flesh, forcing him to toughen up?

Li Tui stood beneath the corridor as the chilly night wind poured down his collar. He raised his eyes toward the study in the main courtyard. A motionless silhouette was traced on the paper window, sitting at the desk like a clay statue.

A thought struck him, sharp and blindingly clear.

The Zhao Family wasn't trying to nurture Zhao Wen at all.

They wanted to turn him into a rabid dog that couldn't be restrained, then set him loose to bite at Zhao Yuanchong's heels. Only when it hurt would this young master of the main branch be willing to take a step, willing to run forward with all his might.

As for Zhao Hao... he was probably just another dog in this play, dragged in to make up the numbers and, while they were at it, serve as a warning.

A faint breath escaped Li Tui's throat, almost a sigh, almost a laugh.

So after all those twists and turns, this was where the game board had been set.

He lowered his head. The smooth surface of the black-lacquered box reflected a blurred face, its features calm and unreadable. Only the thing beneath his chest throbbed heavily with his heartbeat, once, then again, reminding him that he was still alive.

As long as he was alive, he had to endure the furnace.

It didn't matter whose firewood they burned or whose wind they fanned. Ashes or sparks, he had to endure until the day he could see who held the fire poker.

The muffled sound of a night watchman's clapper drifted from afar. Li Tui pulled his gaze away, clutched the wooden box tightly, and turned toward the study's dim yellow light.