At the start of the mao hour, the sky was indigo.
Li Tui stood outside Zhao Yuanchong's room. The lantern beneath the eaves cast a dim yellow light, stretching his shadow long and thin.
There was no sound inside.
Only when the eastern sky turned the blue-green of a crab shell and faint light filtered through the window paper did movement stir within.
A woman let out a soft cry, followed by the rustle of fabric. Then Zhao Yuanchong's sleepy, impatient voice came from inside. "...Who's out there?"
Li Tui pushed open the door.
The scent of incense assailed his nose, mingling with the cloying sweetness and sweat of the night before. Morning light slanted into the room, illuminating the floating dust and the scene on the bed.
Zhao Yuanchong was half propped up, his inner robe loose, revealing his fair neck.
The woman in yesterday's peach-red dress lay beside him, her hair mussed and the rouge on her cheeks smeared.
"Young Master." Li Tui lowered his eyes and made himself as meek as possible. "It's time to get up. You have to go to the academy at the chen hour."
Zhao Yuanchong narrowed his eyes at him. After a moment, he gave a derisive laugh.
He pushed the woman beside him away, climbed barefoot out of bed, and walked up to Li Tui. He came only to Li Tui's chest, yet when he tilted his face up, his gaze was full of condescending scrutiny.
"So you're Wang Yuan?" His voice was still hoarse from sleep.
"Yes."
"Uncle Lai said you were clever." Zhao Yuanchong's gaze swept over his coarse clothes, washed until they had faded pale. A playful smile curled his lips. "Then let me test you. What's a study companion supposed to do?"
Li Tui's expression did not change. "Keep you company while you study and cultivate, and see to your daily needs."
"See to my daily needs?" Zhao Yuanchong clasped his hands behind his back and nodded with an air of age beyond his years. "Well said. Then right now, I want you to see to them."
He turned and pointed at the half-human-height celadon chamber pot in the corner. Its body was painted with intertwining lotus vines.
"Go on. Empty it completely." Zhao Yuanchong looked back at Li Tui, smiling. "Not a drop left. Then fill it with clean water and bring it to my bedside."
The room fell silent for a moment.
The woman in the peach-red dress covered her mouth and giggled softly, her eyes glimmering with amusement as she watched the show.
Li Tui looked at the chamber pot. Its opening was narrow and its belly wide; to empty it completely, he would have to reach inside and scrape it out. Even the roughest servants would balk at such a filthy task.
It was humiliation.
It was a way of grinding Li Tui's dignity into the mud from the very start.
Li Tui lowered his eyelids.
He said nothing and showed neither humiliation nor anger. Silently, he walked to the corner, rolled up his faded sleeves, and revealed his lean, sturdy forearms.
Then he reached out and picked up the heavy chamber pot.
The cold porcelain pressed against his skin, its weight bearing down on his wrists. The sour, rotten stench of its contents surged up, mingling with the cloying scent of last night's incense to form a nauseating, bizarre odor.
The woman on the bed let out a soft "Oh," then covered her mouth and giggled.
Zhao Yuanchong folded his arms and tilted his head as he watched, his childish face wearing the pleased grin of a prankster whose trick had worked.
Li Tui held the chamber pot steady, turned, and walked step by step toward the door.
His steps were steady, his arms steady, his breathing as even as ever, as if he were carrying an ordinary vessel rather than something filthy.
He crossed the threshold, and the morning breeze brushed his face.
Servants sweeping beneath the eaves caught sight of him from afar. They hurriedly lowered their heads and sped up their work, not daring to look for long.
Li Tui kept his eyes forward.
He walked to the spot in the courtyard used for emptying chamber pots, crouched, and tipped the opening downward. Murky liquid gurgled out into the ditch below. When the last few drops clung to the inside of the pot, he reached in with his fingers and scraped them clean.
His fingertips touched the slick, cold filth.
He did not pause. After scraping it clean, he got up and went to the well, drew clean water, and rinsed the inside and outside of the pot over and over. The splashing rang out especially clearly in the quiet morning courtyard.
Once it was clean, he filled it with fresh water again and carried it step by step back to the room.
Zhao Yuanchong had already returned to the bed. The woman in the peach-red dress was helping him into his outer robe. When Li Tui entered, Zhao Yuanchong lifted his eyelids, the same smile still curling his lips.
Li Tui gently set the chamber pot in the designated spot beside the bed, stepped back two paces, and stood with his hands at his sides. His sleeves were down again, covering his arms; only the tips of his fingers still held the damp chill of well water.
"Young Master, it's done." His voice held not a trace of emotion.
Zhao Yuanchong stared at him for a long time.
Li Tui's face was as placid as an ancient well. He had not even furrowed his brow.
That calm unsettled Zhao Yuanchong more than any resistance could have. It was like punching into a bottomless pool and not even hearing a splash.
"You..." Zhao Yuanchong opened his mouth, wanting to find something else to pick on, but for a moment he could not think of what to say. If the other person did not even feel humiliated, what was the point of humiliating him?
Suddenly, he felt bored, and inexplicably irritable.
"Get out and wait!" He waved his hand, his tone nasty. "Come back and call me when the chen hour arrives!"
"Yes." Li Tui bowed, left the room, and gently closed the door behind him.
The morning breeze beneath the eaves was cool.
Li Tui stood still, slowly raised his hand, and looked at his fingertips. They had touched filth and been washed in clean water; now, in the morning light, they looked pale.
He felt no disgust and no anger.
Only cold clarity.
Reason with Zhao Yuanchong? Bargain with him? What right did the son of a tenant farmer have?
Before absolute power, every sharp retort was laughable. If the other person wanted to humiliate you, you could only bear it. The only thing you could do was make sure that, even as you endured it, you did not let yourself truly be ground into the mud.
Anger was useless, and humiliation came cheap.
All that mattered was patience—clear-eyed patience, like roots lying dormant in the soil, slowly drawing nourishment and waiting for the day they could break through the earth.
As for that bucket of filth... compared with everything in his previous life, what was that?
The path to immortality was always a struggle against heaven, against others, and against oneself. Dignity? Pride? Those were things you only had the right to slowly pick back up after you survived.
From inside the room came Zhao Yuanchong's faint, impatient grumbling and the woman's soft, soothing voice.
Li Tui listened in silence, his eyes calm.
In this life, the path ahead was destined to begin in the filthiest corner, where he would have to pry out the resources for cultivation bit by bit.
The chen hour arrived.
He raised the back of his clean hand and gently knocked on the door.
His voice was steady and respectful, not a hint of anything amiss in it:
"Young Master, the chen hour has arrived. It's time to go to the academy."
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