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The abacus beads beneath Ling Wen’s hand don’t cease, clacking against each other as she settles the last of this book’s accounts. With her calculation ability, she doesn’t need to use such a tool, but she prefers to, finding peace in the rhythm and routine.
One ke later, the noise comes to a standstill, the account book fluttering shut. Ling Wen stamps her finalized report with her designated seal, sighing in relief as she glances at the near-emptied receiving tray beside her. All that remains is one thin stack of paperwork, and a basket of fruit.
Wait. A basket of fruit?
Startled, she sets down the report, standing up for the first time in hours. Rather than walking over, she’s lazy enough to float the basket over in front of her to peer at the contents within. The basket is teeming with fresh harvest of all the fruits in season, including but not limited to plums, lychees, and waxberries.
“Someone come,” she calls. “Send this to the kitchens.”
The doors to the hall open, carrying a gentle chuckle in the breeze brought. “To turn away a gift before its giver is considered rude, isn’t it?”
“…” The name leaves Ling Wen’s mouth before she even meets her visitor’s eyes. “Yushi Huang?”
It is— not shocking to see her here, with how all heavenly officials come and go these days, making a concerted effort to rebuild their capital, but it is, at the very least, surprising for her to come seeking her in particular. They aren’t close— Ling Wen can count on four fingers the people she’s deemed ‘close’ with, and one of those people is bound to her command— and apart from the occasional arrival of produce, the even rarer silent nod of acknowledgement, and bi-weekly reports from Yushi Country, Ling Wen wouldn’t even dare to call them friends.
(There was also that time they’d fought to a draw at Mount Tonglu, but neither of them had truly meant to hurt the other back then, so bygones were bygones by now.)
“Zhenjun,” Yushi Huang greets. The address is intended to be formal, but on her tongue, it almost sounds teasing. “I’ve asked around. You don’t seem to be very appreciative of my good intentions.”
Are they so familiar to be able to indulge in bantering?
Ling Wen clears her throat. “That’s not it. I simply have no need for sustenance.”
“Nonsense,” says Yushi Huang, waving a hand dismissively. “Gods may not go hungry, but that is not all of what food is for.”
“…Still.” Ling Wen isn’t sure why she’s even entertaining this conversation. “Well-intentioned or not, I can’t accept these, daren. It’s better if they go to people who will really— Mmph!”
In the blink of an eye, Yushi Huang has already crossed the hall in brisk strides to arrive before her, reaching into the wicker basket for a waxberry. Ling Wen had instinctively stepped backward at her approach, but even that couldn’t prevent Yushi Huang’s deft fingers from pressing the fruit past her lips and into her mouth.
Only when she’s reluctantly swallowed the fruit does Yushi Huang retreat from her personal space, grinning. “What was zhenjun saying just now?”
“That was…”
Improper? Could she call it that when she didn’t have the excuse of men and women needing to preserve appropriate distance between them? How was it that she, the foremost civil god and one of the most renowned scribes in the realm, wound up at a loss for words so often before her?
“…Forget it. In any case, may daren not do anything like that again. I’ll just eat the fruit myself.”
Yushi Huang retracts her smile somewhat and bows her head. “Apologies for overstepping, zhenjun. If you may forgive my curiosity as well, how did you like it?”
Ling Wen considers. “It isn’t bad, but I prefer plums.”
“Noted. You don’t like radishes either, do you?”
She’s right, but— “What gives you that impression?”
“I’ve sent them thrice, and they’re always the last to be finished.”
A scratch snags itself across Ling Wen’s heart— how long has it been since someone’s remembered something about her, let alone something this trivial?
Slightly discomfited by this, she doesn’t confirm nor deny, plainly saying, “Daren, apologies for my rudeness, but I must cut this visit short. I still have…”
“—Haven’t eaten today, right?”
Ling Wen stares at Yushi Huang, speechless, but she doesn’t allow her the chance to protest. She simply takes the basket from her and grabs her by the wrist, whisking them both away.
* * *
The old Heavenly Capital didn’t have a communal kitchen— every official of the Upper Court had their own palace and employed a cook or two to receive meals if they so wished. But with the current reconstruction of everyone’s individual palaces being less of a priority, they all just jumble into one ‘kitchen’ that’s technically more of a repurposed armory.
Dragging Ling Wen a good way there before Yushi Huang confirms that she won’t run off, she finally lets go of her wrist, leading her to sit on one of the stools. Then she gets to work, untying the qiankun pouch hanging from her waist and dumping out various utensils and bottled ingredients on the counter.
“Yushi-daren, you really don’t have to do this.”
“Zhenjun, I’m a fast cook, so I won’t waste your time.” Flame roars to life beneath Yushi Huang’s wok, the sudden searing heat causing Ling Wen to flinch. “We’ll be in and out. Don’t you at least have an incense stick’s time to spare?”
Ling Wen truly can’t out-argue her, so she concedes through her silence.
“Let it simmer for a while.” Yushi Huang drops a lid over the wok, steam and scent already escaping. When had she even put the ingredients in…? “It’s a vegetable stirfry with fresh plum sauce, nothing complicated. Everything just had to be tossed into the wok. I’ll step up my game next time.”
…Next time?
Afraid that saying anything will dig her grave deeper, Ling Wen just presses her lips together and makes a noncommittal noise. Pleased by her acquiescence, Yushi Huang carries on with her cooking, stirring and adjusting the flavour.
A few minutes later, Yushi Huang locates a bowl and fills it half with rice, topping it off with the stirfry. She hands Ling Wen a spoon, saying, “Careful, it’s hot. Eat slowly.”
Ling Wen accepts it politely and scoops cautiously at the food, bringing it to her mouth. On first impression, it smells incredible— but even as the comforting, rich flavours melt on her tongue, her expression betrays nothing.
“This is… adequate.”
Somehow this response doesn’t dim the brightness on Yushi Huang’s face at all. The way she ‘oh’s and how her smile widens makes it seem like Ling Wen had devoured every crumb and went back for seconds.
Yushi Huang watches on with satisfaction as Ling Wen continues eating, then tilts her head, as if receiving a message. She doesn’t bid goodbye as she heads toward the doors, only calling out over her shoulder: “It was nice seeing you, zhenjun! I’ll come cook for you again tomorrow!”
Ling Wen chokes. “Tomorrow?” She sets down her bowl, meaning to rush after her, but Yushi Huang’s figure flickers in the telltale signs of a teleportation spell, shrinking to a pinprick right before her eyes. “Daren, hang on! I’m busy tomorrow!”
Airy laughter rings out in farewell— or the promise of reunion. “Aren’t you busy always?”
* * *
An entire shichen after Yushi Huang’s departure, Ling Wen realizes that her company had kept her so occupied that she hadn’t even asked about what she came for in the first place.
* * *
It is both baffling and strangely moving that Yushi Huang does indeed pop into her study around the same hour the next day. This time Ling Wen is prepared and walks to the kitchen herself, lest they make a habit of dragging her around.
Today Yushi Huang doesn’t say what she’s cooking, only that “it’s a surprise” and “Wow, who knew Ling Wen-zhenjun admired my culinary talents so much?”, which shuts Ling Wen and her mild interest up quickly. All the rumours she’d heard of Yushi Huang speaking less because of the lasting phantom pains of her throat injury were clearly lies— This Rain Master could tease her until she went hoarse.
As Ling Wen waits for the meal to be ready, she can’t help but take out a scroll she’s revising. The instant the rustle of paper sounds, Yushi Huang sighs, placing her hands on her hips.
“Zhenjun, if I didn’t show up, were you planning on working straight until dawn again?”
“…Time has no effect on me,” Ling Wen returns. “There’s no distinction between day and night inside the palace.”
“Don’t you get bored all cooped up here?”
“That would imply I have nothing to do. How can I be?”
“Yes, you’re busy, but you’re not genuinely enjoying living every day like this, are you? I know it’s because you’re serving your sentence, but… Zhenjun, that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to roam free.”
Ling Wen stills. “Yushi-daren, that’s not the case, I…”
“There are gods who indulge in wine, in wealth, and others in pleasure,” Yushi Huang continues, pointing a chopstick at her. “You’re different. I think you’ve forgotten that you were once a mortal, Nangong Jie.”
No one has ever dared to call this name in full to her face unless they weren’t afraid of a beating, or could hold up to a lethal glare swept their way that would scare the average human soulless. Once more, she’s become the one unnerved, as if Yushi Huang has taken it upon herself to reach into her life’s seams and re-mend them.
A long beat passes before Ling Wen answers. “As were you, Yushi Huang. What’s your point?”
Yushi Huang doesn’t reply, simply handing her a pair of chopsticks and a bowl with two fragrant, steaming lotus-leaf wrapped items in it. Ling Wen unties the strings and peels back the leaves, revealing…
A Xuli Kingdom specialty that Yushi Huang shouldn’t know how to make, especially not to this level of skill.
But upon closer look, they’re not exactly like the rice wraps she remembers from centuries ago; instead of spiced, dried sausage, Yushi Huang has substituted them for pan-fried king mushrooms, which are more local to the abundant crops of Yushi Country.
Ling Wen blinks, her lashes inexplicably wet. This was… a meal of mixed tastes, shared between past-enemy nations. It didn’t feel like an olive branch, an envoy presenting a treaty, nor did it feel like a humiliation; it read like an invitation.
“My point?” Yushi Huang casts her a sideways glance, a too-beautiful smile. “Eat with me, zhenjun. Let’s be mortals together.”
* * *
Ling Wen’s sight blurs as she shuffles through reports, skimming past no issues, poor harvest, some ghosts causing trouble in so-and-so, someone’s stealing all the buns in the kitchen before the hour for breakfast even begins, and—
Minor flood in Yushi Country, contained within the area. Four casualties, and all affected families have been provided for. No relief aid is necessary.
Ling Wen’s fingers pause. She splits the report from the stack and checks the date of submission— three days ago. No wonder she hasn’t come to the capital for a while.
She knows Yushi Huang must be fine; just something like this isn’t a disaster for her, and can barely be counted as a mishap. And yet, it’s an odd realization to have, but she… isn’t at ease.
Ling Wen worries at her bottom lip, taking out a letter talisman and activating the delivery seal.
Yushi-daren, she ventures, Is all well?
Yushi Huang’s reply comes almost instantaneously, startling Ling Wen enough that she drops her brush.
Zhenjun,
Your concern is greatly appreciated! Rest assured, everything has been taken care of. As for you— Isn’t it too much of a waste to be writing me letters when you can contact me directly?
Unless… you’re too shy to?
…If Ling Wen speaks to her through the communication array now, then won’t she be rising to the bait? But if she keeps writing, then won’t she be tacitly confirming that she is shy…
If you don’t like receiving them, I’ll stop sending them.
Now zhenjun’s twisting my words! Please, send as many as you’d like! I’ve missed your snark, and of course, I’ve missed you!
…Zhenjun?
Zhenjun, are you still there? Did you run out of talismans? Check the envelope, I’ve attached more.
Ling Wen-zhenjun!
* * *
Folded up beneath a paperweight, an unactivated smudged-ink talisman on Ling Wen’s desk reads: I’ve missed you too.
* * *
Much like Yushi Huang’s increasingly bold and brazen visits (though Ling Wen refuses to admit it, she finds herself looking forward to them now), the letters become a habit. The talismans aren’t costly, but she goes through enough that she begins to include them as deductions from her monthly salary, along with her other usual stationery needs.
The more they write each other, the more ‘hidden functions’ they discover— one time, Yushi Huang stuns her with a fireworks display that bursts from her characters in mid-air. To return the favour, Ling Wen sifts through her archives until she learns of a way to make her talismans compostable, usable on Yushi Huang’s plants.
Zhenjun, you’re a genius! Send me the spellwork for that one!
If you agree to stop kidnapping me from meetings under the guise of ‘dire emergencies’, I’ll even send you the complete scroll collection it’s from.
What, is feeding my dearest friend not as important as Pei-jiangjun filing yet another grievance report against Qi Ying-dianxia for plundering the kitchens?
Ling Wen, face slightly hot, nearly scorches this letter to ashes.
My dearest friend… They’ve only truly known each other for less than half a year. Does she really hold such a place in Yushi Huang’s life?
This simple, casual statement throws her off so much that she forgets to reply; she just stares dazedly at those specific characters, re-reading them over and over. Perhaps it’s a blessing that preparations for the Mid-Autumn Festival Banquet start going underway— although her paperwork for the next week is a mess, the other gods don’t have the perception to notice the varying weights of her calligraphy from her frequent, distracted pauses.
It’s only when the attendee list becomes the main topic for a meeting when Ling Wen inadvertently thinks of contacting her again. She decides to push aside her mild guilt and awkwardness, taking a custom-ordered, pressed-seed letter talisman from her stack to write on.
Yushi-daren,
My deepest apologies for not writing for so long. I’ve been… preoccupied lately, with organizing the Mid-Autumn Festival Banquet. You should have been informed about it; my subordinates have sent missives to all gods that reside in the mortal realm. It’ll be the first major banquet hosted since the Heavenly Capital’s destruction, but there should be no issues.
The seat beside me will be empty this year. I know you don’t like coming up to the capital for these official gatherings, but if you’re free, and if you’re willing, I would be glad to see you.
Ling Wen infuses her spiritual power into the talisman’s seal and sends it off, immediately busying herself by tidying up her desk. She pointedly does not look at the water clock behind her, tuning out its dripping the best she can.
It doesn’t take more than thirty quiet splashes for Yushi Huang’s response to appear before her:
Zhenjun,
So you’re still alive! How relieved I am to know you haven’t been crushed to death by your scrolls! I would’ve come up to check on you, but I was afraid you’d kick me back down again…
I did receive the missive, yes! I’d love to come— I have a few matters to handle that day, but they shouldn’t take me long. I’ll certainly arrive in time for the celebrations, you have my word.
Just like that, all of Ling Wen’s anxiety melts from her, the tension in her jaw easing. She bites back a growing smile and ends their letter chain with a short but sincere I’ll be waiting for you— then she picks up a fresh talisman, addressing it to a different recipient.
Esteemed Guardian Steed,
This humble one is Ling Wen-zhenjun from the Palace of Ling Wen. Can you do me a favour?
* * *
Although the Mid-Autumn Festival Banquet isn’t as lively and grand as it once was, the atmosphere is still pleasant enough to invite Ling Wen out of her hall early, urging her to “abandon her responsibilities” and sit with the rest of the officials. She doesn’t chat much with anyone, but a few come up to toast her for her hard work, soon flushing her cheeks rosy with wine.
As she pours herself more, almost halfway through the jar, a calloused hand settles on her shoulder, the other swirling a cup of tea before her.
“Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, zhenjun,” says Yushi Huang.
Ling Wen clinks her cup against hers, her chest warm, head tilted back to gaze at her. “Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, daren.”
They drink. Yushi Huang slides into the seat beside her; Ling Wen reaches for the teapot to refill her cup, aware that she rarely consumes alcohol due to her throat condition. Though she wasn’t the main official in charge of the banquet this time, she’d made sure in advance to have a variety of Yushi Huang’s preferred tea blends and dishes prepared.
“Yushi-daren!” a deputy god exclaims, sidling up to their table. “What a rare sight!”
Yushi Huang puts on her best polite smile and bows slightly. “Greetings…”
“Zhen Duoyu, he’s a recently promoted junior official that hasn’t been assigned to a palace yet,” Ling Wen supplies helpfully, lifting her sleeve and cup to hide the fact that she’s spoken. “He’s never seen you, but knows of you from your harvest deliveries, which he helps himself to. Plenty.”
The merest hint of sourness and grievance in Ling Wen’s tone amuses Yushi Huang greatly, but she doesn’t comment on it, simply continuing: “…Zhen-daren.”
Zhen Duoyu brightens. “Yushi-daren has heard of this humble official? Let me properly introduce myself, I…”
“Zhen-daren,” Ling Wen interrupts. “Have you checked out the banquet spread for tonight? Yushi-daren has generously provided fresh pomelos and pears from her own trees. I had a few slices, they’re delicious.”
“Oh, really? That’s awesome, I’ll definitely—”
“Yes, you should definitely go and try some.”
Yushi Huang nearly laughs out loud at how obviously snippish her friend sounds. “You only had a few slices, zhenjun? What are you saving room for?”
“I can fill my stomach with wine, but only if daren is the one drinking with me.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll have to die of thirst and starvation,” Ling Wen says solemnly.
Yushi Huang gasps. “Would that make me a murderer, branding me as a criminal as well? Would I be punished to join you in doing everyone’s paperwork? I’d better drink with you, then.”
“…” Zhen Duoyu seems to sense how unnecessary he is in this conversation and goes to take his leave, cupping his hands and bowing hastily. “You’ve worked hard, zhenjun. It was an honour to meet you, Yushi-daren.”
Yushi Huang returns the gesture, not even looking at him: “Mn, you too.”
The air becomes decidedly less frigid the instant the man walks away in dejection. Untying her qiankun pouch, Yushi Huang glances at the woman next to her, teasing, “Is zhenjun upset?”
Quick to deny, Ling Wen says, “I am not—”
Yushi Huang reaches into the pouch and fishes out a wrapped two-bite mooncake between her fingers. She skillfully peels away the paper, then presses the pastry past the opening of Ling Wen’s lips.
“Have a taste before you answer.”
Stunned, Ling Wen can only chew, soon finishing the mooncake. It’s her favourite kind: lotus paste with salted egg yolk filling, though because of the small portion size, it’s not as cloyingly sweet and difficult to digest as usual. She can probably eat three of these without getting sick of the greasiness.
“…Do you just go around stuffing women’s mouths like this?”
Yushi Huang places another mooncake onto her plate and replies, “What, are you jealous?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Ling Wen’s ears have dusted themselves a faint pink, and she says, evenly, “I’m just being mindful of my personal safety. Who knows if you’ll poison me one day?”
At that, Yushi Huang pops a mooncake into her mouth too and shrugs. “There. Now I’m poisoned as well.” She adopts a pitiful expression, pouting, “You know, I was toiling all afternoon making these. I expected compliments to the chef, not accusations of assassination.”
“You…” The way Ling Wen looks at her, then, makes all her efforts worth it. “All afternoon?”
Yushi Huang smiles. “Why else do you think I came late?”
* * *
Around zishi, with the banquet in full swing, one of the appointed host officials steps up to the makeshift stage. He tosses an amplification talisman up in the air; as it cracks with an echoing boom, he calls out—
“May all heavenly officials settle down! It’s now time for everyone’s most anticipated event… the Battle of the Lanterns!”
The crowd cheers, then hushes, brimming with predictions and bets for this year’s top ten. Leaning to her side, Ling Wen’s voice drops to a conspiring whisper.
“And so the battle commences. It’s a new age, Yushi-daren. The results may be surprising.”
Yushi Huang snorts. “Surely nothing can top the previous year’s spectacle—”
“What a twist! Though the Rain Master Palace remains in last place this year, it holds the position with a brand new total of not one, but two lanterns!”
All of the heavenly officials present, including Yushi Huang, fall silent. Although the announcements don’t stop, they’re no longer paying attention, their heads swiveled onto the equally bewildered Rain Master in question.
“Don’t look at me,” says Yushi Huang, recovering from her shock. “Maybe my Xiao Hei decided to be a little more lavish this year. I’ll give him a good scolding when I return, of course.”
Everyone starts murmuring again, but they don’t ask further, seeming to accept her explanation as truth. With a few nods of acknowledgement and scattered congratulations, Yushi Huang is soon non-existent once more. Only Ling Wen’s focus has never wavered; she sips at her wine, her smile soft against the rim.
“Daren mustn’t wrong an innocent man,” she hums. “Not entirely, anyway. What proof do you have that it was him?”
“Who else would it be? I tell him every year not to participate in such a meaningless event, but he still…” Yushi Huang falters, her eyes shifting from the sky to meet hers. “Nangong Jie. What do you mean?”
To send up just one Blessings Lantern of Everlasting Light is no easy feat. It takes prayers, worship, and faith, none of which a god is ever on the giving end of. Apart from a devoted Ghost King, what other superior being would be willing to lower themself to wish for another?
“Ah.” Ling Wen sets down her cup. “What do you think I mean?”
Yushi Huang looks again into the distance, where her lanterns have already been swallowed up by the sea of others. Yet she can pick them out clear as day, two brilliant specks of light, no less dim than ones of a higher god.
Unable to gauge her reaction, Ling Wen sombers, saying, “You’ve sent me so many fruits and vegetables, and have cooked for me plenty. The least I could do was express my gratitude.”
“…And is it just that? A thank you gift? Or…”
Do you actually believe in me?
At her rare hesitation, Ling Wen’s mood lifts. “Is it so hard to believe in someone like you?”
“I’m not what most would consider a god, zhenjun. I was hardly even a princess.”
Ling Wen shakes her head and prompts, “Yushi Huang, tell me. Why do mortals look to the heavens?”
“…They need someone to hear them.”
Ling Wen nods. “Mn. It’s exactly as you said. They need someone to hear them, whether it be a god, or… a friend. But I don’t make friends anymore.”
“So…” What am I?
“Let me finish. Do you remember what you said about being mortals together? That’s what I want us to be. Not gods, not heavenly officials, not rumours and tales. Just human. You hear me, accompany me, bear my words and my trust, and I will do the same for you.”
Oh.
Yushi Huang’s breath catches, rendering her unable to respond for once. “You make our relationship sound like a business exchange,” she mutters, three heartbeats later.
Ling Wen chuckles. “Is the price too high?”
“That depends. Do I get a discount if I say yes?”
“No, but I can write it in my accounts, if you’d like.”
“Then allow me terms of my own.” Yushi Huang grins at the raise of Ling Wen’s brow, welcoming her to speak. “You haven’t descended since you were forced back into your position, right? Come down and spend a day with me, won’t you, Nangong Jie?”
Yushi Huang extends her hand towards her, palm facing upward. Ling Wen understands her intentions immediately and presses the pad of her thumb on its center, a stamp to a page.
Something sealed. Something freed.
“Deal.”