The Blue-Gray Horse - Chapter 3

The capital was every bit as bustling as I’d heard. We arrived during the Double Ninth Festival, when people climbed the hills to admire chrysanthemums and visitors thronged the streets.

Back on his own turf, Young Master Feng was plainly more at ease. The bruises on his face had faded. He rode down the imperial avenue, proudly pointing out the sights.

“See that? It’s called a *shiman*. Looks pretty, but it’s so dry it’ll choke you. Cook Song at home makes a better one.” He gestured toward a lion-shaped pastry at a stall and delivered his verdict.

A few richly dressed young ladies were heading out of the city to enjoy the autumn scenery. He looked at the ornaments in their hair, then at me. His fine brows drew together.

I gave him a puzzled look.

With an air of disgust, he turned his horse to ride beside me. “Why don’t you have so much as a gold hairpin on you? Even the maids at home are better dressed.”

I glanced down at myself. I saw nothing worth remarking on. “I don’t care for gold or jade.”

He gave a mocking laugh and shot a sideways look at the carriage ahead. “More likely that adoptive father of yours won’t spend money on you. What money could a man of the martial world have?”

I smiled to myself. Raised amid wealth, this young master clearly had no idea what went on beyond his doorstep. He didn’t know that Partridge Mountain had nine branches, one of which operated the largest banking house in the realm from the Jianghuai region.

Nor did he know that the Shi family had made its start in the martial world by taking money to kill other people’s enemies. After generations of accumulation, and years of letting money make more money under Shi Wuhen, their fortune was probably larger than the imperial treasury.

He hadn’t raised me like a pampered daughter, but he’d never been stingy with me. I simply couldn’t be bothered to spend it. I felt freer in the clothes of a wandering martial artist than wrapped in gold, silver, and brocade.

There was no need to explain any of that to Young Master Feng. For all the blood we shared, we did not belong to the same world.

“You’re home.”

I reined in my horse and inclined my head to him.

He looked toward the imposing gate nearby. His family had received word and had come out early to wait for him. As soon as he dismounted, a crowd of women surrounded him. The elegant lady at their center cupped his face with tender hands.

“Yin’er, did you get cold on the road? Honestly, with so many people in this household, why insist that *you* make such a hard journey?”

Some of the younger girls called him Elder Brother; others called him Young Master. Every smile was eager to please. Clearly, he was cherished above everyone else at home.

Given what a little tyrant they’d raised, I thought he would complain about the beating the moment he saw his family. To my surprise, he said nothing about it, and the servants kept quiet too.

Feng Yuanyin pulled himself free of the fragrant, powdered women and tugged at his mother’s sleeve. He looked at me.

“Mother, my sis—” The unfamiliar word sat awkwardly in his mouth. “Elder Sister came back too…”

The lady paused and looked up at me on my horse.

According to propriety, I ought to have dismounted and paid my respects to my parents. But Father had told me in advance to stay on my horse, look down on them, and pay the Feng family no mind. The disciples he’d brought stood in forbidding silence, blocking the street behind the Feng estate. The air went still.

The lady had seen enough of the world to keep her composure. She came over with a slight smile. “Yihuan, there you are. Why don’t you get down now that you’re home? Come, Mother will help you.”

The hand she reached toward me looked warm and soft and smelled of perfume. It was nothing like my wet nurse’s hand. Yet from my earliest memories, only that rough, strong hand had ever stroked me or held me safe.

When I was five, the women of the Feng family were trapped by bandits at a temple. A chance to escape appeared. My mother, clutching my month-old brother, hurried down the mountain. In the confusion of that night, she accidentally let go of my hand. Twelve years passed.

In all those years, the Listening Wind Hall on Partridge Mountain, which knew the affairs of the whole realm, never once heard that the Feng family was looking for its daughter.

My wet nurse had never told Shi Wuhen where I came from, either. Sometimes she would touch the injuries I got training with my senior brothers. Her eyes would ache for me, but she would say, “Miss, this is good. If you’re strong, you can protect yourself. Life in a wealthy household may look lovely, but blades can strike unseen. You’re safer staying away…”

I was beginning to understand. The Feng family had no shortage of daughters, and my mother had no need of me. My wet nurse had understood long ago that fighting for affection in this deep, grand household was no life for me.

My fingers curled around the reins. I met my mother’s gaze calmly and did not move. Her outstretched hand stiffened.

At last, Shi Wuhen spoke from inside his carriage, his voice mild. “I didn’t bring Yihuan here to reunite her with you.”

His next words changed every face around us.

“I brought her to sever your ties.”

“You!” Feng Yuanyin was the first to flare up. “She’s a daughter of our family. You think you can cut her off just by saying so? Is this what you call raising her well—having her spend her whole life out there fighting and killing with you? You’re mad!”

He turned anxiously to his mother. “Mother, he’s a lunatic who’s drugged her mind. Don’t leave my sister with him.”

The lady patted his hand reassuringly and addressed the man inside the carriage.

“Sect Master Shi, I’ve long heard of your reputation. Our daughter disappeared more than ten years ago; we never imagined you had saved her. Our whole family is deeply grateful. My husband has not yet returned from the government council. Before he left, he instructed us to receive you properly. You and your disciples have come a long way. Please come inside as our honored guests. Your men can water their horses and rest.”

It was a careful speech, leaving no opening and giving Shi Wuhen every courtesy. He did not so much as show his face. He merely told the Feng family to strike my name from their clan register and have the authorities send him a document formally severing our kinship.

Otherwise…

“The next time I come, I won’t stop at your gate. I’ll go to your ancestral hall and make the decision for you. Now get out of the way.”

At that, Shi Lin and the other disciples spurred their horses forward, kicking aside the barriers by the general’s residence. Our party swept off with magnificent arrogance, leaving only dust behind.

How overbearing!

Feng Yuanyin’s face twisted with anger, but his mother held him back before he could do anything foolish. He could not understand what she feared, just as I could not understand what had made Father so angry.

It was rare for him to be so openly rude. People outside called Shi Wuhen ruthless, but he was often remarkably tactful. The extraordinary people of the martial world each had their own difficult temperaments. You could not win their sincere allegiance by fighting and killing alone.

As a young man, Father had learned to conceal his feelings. He could endure, and he knew how to pretend. Even as he slowly drained the blood from the worst of his old enemies, he had kept a gentle smile on his lips.

He’d addressed the man with perfect respect: “Minister Li.”