Rise of a Matriarch Part 5 (Patreon)

“And I have to do that every morning?” Chian pulled her robe around her nervously as they waited for breakfast to be served. Lau Meng was propped up in a seated position on the other side of the low table. Chian wasn’t sure why, she had been under the impression that Lau Meng didn’t eat.

“You don’t have to, but I think once you have a chance to observe the results, you will want to,” he said, his eyes still closed.

Chian looked at him doubtfully.

“You seemed to be getting used to it, towards the end,” he added.

Chian flushed at the memory. The… procedure had never been painful at any point, but towards the end, she had felt it becoming a little more pleasurable. Long before that point, though, she had lost control of her voice, and the noises that had emerged were hardly the sort that a lady— or a lowly servant— should make.

“I can’t look my maids in the eye any more, not after they heard… that,” she complained, looking down at the rich red grain of the table.

“You should get out of the habit of acknowledging the servants, if you want to fit in among your new peer group,” her husband said. “Your concern is unwarranted though, as they heard nothing. All the rooms in this mansion have a privacy formation that blocks sound.”

“That can’t be true,” Chian said. “Don’t they come running as soon as you call?”

“I call them with Qi,” Lau Meng said. “Speaking aloud is for your benefit.”

Chian’s eyes widened. Of course, all the servants here were Inner Sect members, each one a cultivator. Even the lowliest servant here ranked above many of the posturing warriors in the Outer Sect.

“So I can’t even call the servants?” she asked. Not that she should. For her, a mere mortal to be waited on by cultivators was insane.

“I will be here to call them for you,” he assured her. “Or, there are various bell-pulls around the place. Once you have achieved the Initiate’s Realm, you should find it easy enough to send out a pulse of Qi to get their attention.”

Breakfast arrived at that point, preventing Chian from commenting further. She was too enraptured by the plates that had been set before her. The main dish was filled with tiny golden pastries, formed out of many thin layers and shaped into tiny bite-sized cups. To one side sat slices of glistening peach, looking succulent and sweet. A second dish of mixed fruits was on the other side, and a fragrant tea was set down before her. A small container was also set down. She couldn’t see inside it, but it smelled sweet.

“Honey from the upper reaches of the Mountain,” Lau Meng said as she glanced at it. “Quite a common product for any sect that has access to flowers, it is an easy way to concentrate Qi for consumption.”

He was not served food, but he did get a pot of tea. The servant on his side of the table carefully placed it down and ever so carefully, poured a cup.

It was as if the Sun had come down and joined them for breakfast. Chian blinked at the sheer amount of Qi that was contained in the tea. Under normal circumstances, she could barely detect Qi, but was so concentrated, that even the sight of it was something the basest mortal would react to.

“My apologies,” Lau Meng said. The sight of the Qi was somehow dimmed, the outflow reduced to a mere trickle. “I did not mean to spoil your own breakfast.”

“What is that?” Chian asked, as the servant brought the cup to Lau Meng’s lips. Is it safe for him to be doing that? she wondered. Despite her expectations, the china cup did not crumble, and not a drop was spilled. A small sip made its way into her husbands mouth, and he swallowed.

“It’s medicinal,” he said. “Since I’m unable to cultivate at the moment, I have to take Qi in as food, much like you’re doing.”

I am? Chian wondered. Oh right, the breakfast.

Returning her attention to the food in front of her, she tried pouring some honey onto a pastry. The golden liquid glistened appealingly, and she had to resist dumping it all at once. She lifted the pastry to her mouth, and…

Bliss. The delightful crunch of the layers of pastry, the sweet taste of the honey, the rich Qi flowing out of it and into her. It was heaven. It was the death of death, that inevitable end pushed back a little further, it was—

“Try the peach,” her husband said, breaking her out of her trance. She glared at him resentfully. Only the thought that she had more bites of this treasure in front of her stopped her from screaming with frustration. She took up a slice of peach carefully in her chopsticks and bit down.

Was the peach dissolving in her mouth, or was she dissolving in it? It was sweet, but not like the honey. Cool and refreshing instead of soft and warm, the Qi from it blew through her mind like a fresh breeze. It’s not fair, she thought. How can I choose between this and the honey? She knew she could eat both of them, but which should she eat first? And yet, how could she take any time deciding, delaying that next bite for even second?

Trying to regain her composure, she took a sip of the tea. It actually helped, its subtle blend of herbs somehow complementing and merging both of the flavours into a unified whole. It didn’t matter what she chose, she realised. All that mattered was taking another bite.

The rest of the meal progressed quickly, without any further conversation. Against her own expectation, Chian didn’t demand more once her plate was empty. She felt strangely satiated, a feeling that didn’t come from her belly, but from her soul.

“Now,” Lau Meng said. “You’ll want to get dressed, Che Fu will be arriving in a bit.”

Suiting action to words, green silk pants and a tunic of embroidered blue silk flickered into being around him. Chian stared enviously. She was certain it wouldn’t be so easy for her.

“Do I even have a dress?” she asked.

“Of course, the maids can show you,” he replied.

They did. She had a room full of dresses. Too many to choose from. After a brief moment of brushing her hands against the silken finery, she asked them to choose something appropriate. Once they’d helped her into it, she sat down in front of a mirror while they arranged her hair.

The mirror was finer than anything she’d used before, polished silver instead of beaten copper or still water that a servant had to make do with. The face that stared back at her wasn’t a stranger, exactly. It was her, just with properly combed hair and… fewer blemishes.

She frowned, and looked closer. Had her skin always been that smooth?

Once you have a chance to observe the results, you will want to…

She raised one of her hands and examined it closely. Servant’s hands were used roughly, and she wore the results on her skin. They had been scrubbed clean— three times— last night, and the remaining blemished had been covered with makeup, but that was all gone now. Her hands were… finer than she remembered. Her calluses were fading and some of the darker markings that marred her skin were gone entirely.

It’s already started, she thought. She allowed the maids to finish their work. Once the hair was done, they added a touch of makeup. Not the caked on face painting from last night, but a touch of eyeshadow and toner.

She met up with her husband in a room intended for entertaining guests. Two couches were set up on either side of a low table. Her husband was seated in his wheeled chair, a servant ready behind him to move him as needed.

“Where did all these dresses come from?” she asked him.

“Wedding gifts,” he replied. “We processed past them, last night.”

The wedding ceremony was now little more than a terrifying blur to Chian, but she nodded as if she remembered. “So many, though?” she wondered aloud.

“I’m a terrible person to get gifts for,” Lau Meng confessed. “Picky, ridiculously rich and I rarely remember to send a proper thank you note. The smart move was to give something for you.”

“I have to…” Chian trailed off in dismay. “I have terrible calligraphy! I can’t even speak Courtly dialect properly!”

“Eh. I shouldn’t worry. You’ll have tutors, remember? And someone will have kept track of who gave what, so you can work off a list.”

“I suppose…” Chian was starting to get the idea that being a lady wasn’t all peaches and honey.

“Now, I imagine you’re going want to kow-tow to Che Fu when he arrives,” Lau Meng continued. “I suggest you don’t do that.”

Chian stared. How could she not bow down in front of the Sect Master? Then she realised.

“Is my position really so exalted now?”

“Well… I’m not sure of where, exactly, you stand. I was never one to pay much attention to ettiequte. But you’re surely high enough that a simple bow will suffice.”

“In addition,” a voice from the door stated, “Since I am here to apologise, I will have to bow just a bit lower than you. If you abase yourself, I will have to bang my head on the floor.”

Chian froze, and then slowly turned around. The man from the ceremony was standing before her. Now that she wasn’t suspended in a chair, his towering height was much more obvious. He gazed down at her, his sharp, almond-shaped eyes, deep-set and piercing, radiated both kindness and intensity. His jawline was strong and angular and his face bore the faint traces of scars long gone.

His hair was a rich, glossy black, tied back in a neat, intricate topknot. A few strands, escaped the confines of his hair tie, falling gracefully across his forehead, lending him a slightly rugged and untamed air. He wore a traditional martial arts robe, made of deep blue silk and adorned with symbols and patterns in gold and silver embroidery.

Don’t kneel, just bow! Chian told herself franticly. She managed a short, jerky bow.

“Lord Sect Master!” she said, in a much higher pitch than normal. “Please be welcome in this— my husbands— our— house— mansion!”

“Thank you for your hospitality Lady Lau Chian,” Che Fu said graciously. “But first, please accept my deepest apologies for the wrong I have done you. I should have gained your understanding and acceptance before making the preparations for the ceremony. I have caused you distress, and I apologise.”

Then he bowed, just a little bit lower than Chian had done.

There was a thin, high pitched whistling sound, coming from somewhere. Someone should do something about it, the Sect Master would no doubt find it annoying.

“My Lady?” Che Fu asked.

Oh, It’s me. I’m the sound. Chian shut her mouth, and the sound stopped. That was good. It was still the case, though, that the Sect Master had bowed. To her. And apologised. What should she do? She thought about making the sound again.

“Relax, my darling wife,” Lau Meng said. “Che Fu isn’t one of those Sect Masters with a stick up their arse and a overwhelming concern with their own dignity.”

“How could I be, old friend?” Che Fu asked. “How many Sect Masters of that type have I seen you beat to a bloody pulp?”

“Only three of them were Sect Masters, I think,” Lau Meng said thoughtfully. “The type isn’t limited to that rank though.”

“Indeed,” Che Fu said gravely. “Perhaps we should be seated?” he said to Chian, who had observed the byplay with stunned amazement.

She nodded, and stiffly moved over to one of the couches and sat down. Back straight, eyes forward, hands… hands… on the lap!

Che Fu took a seat opposite her.

“Can you find it in your heart to forgive me, Lady Lau Chian?” he asked.

It took Chian a long moment to process his words.

“Uh… yes, Lord Sect Master, of course! You shouldn’t have to…” She cut herself off when she realised she was about to contradict him.

“Good. And please call me Che Fu. You are of such exalted rank that you can refer to me by name.”

“Yes Lord—Che Fu,” she said.

“Better,” he replied with a small smile. “Know that we— the Sect— are grateful for you taking on this role.”

“This… role?”

“Putting up with this incorrigible rascal,” the Sect Master said. “He may have locked down his own Dantian, but it won’t be easy. The Sect stands ready to give whatever assistance it can.”

“I see,” Chian said, ignoring the very deliberate snort from her husband.

“And now, we have much to discuss,” Che Fu said. “About your role, your duties, and how you will have to grow to fill them.”