Mayumi's sharp gaze scanned the crowd. Even in the Upper Ring, vigilance is needed. A Kyoshi Warrior could not relax where her charge might bleed from one careless stroke. Though Shan's tongue is keen as steel, his body bore no such defense. Armor beneath ceremonial garb would be prudent, yet utterly out of place amidst the standards of the gentry.
"I suspect this is your first gathering of such nature," Shan remarked as he strode ahead. "This is different from the social gathering like last time, so uphold your role with dignity. Conduct yourself with restraint, particularly before the patriarch."
They passed among dozens of nobles and officials, their carriages adorned with lacquer and gilding. Shan and Mayumi, traveling on foot, stood apart from this procession. Yet Mayumi found herself less burdened. Without the veil of secrecy, she allowed her eyes to linger on the perfectionist geometry of the Gan Jin quarter, its streets pristine, its gardens manicured with near-fanatical care. The neighborhood itself is a living testament to Gan Jin stewardship, polished as though for judgment by the spirits themselves.
Among the swelling throng of invitees, Mayumi recognized generals and magistrates mingling with members of the Gan Jin tribe. Though the occasion celebrated the union of Gong Zi and Lady Qian Jin, the true decision lies not with the bridal pair but their parents, with the host inviting many prominent members of the Upper Ring to bolster today's auspiciousness.
For this occasion, Mayumi's long brown hair had been gathered into a simple ponytail. Her attire, completed by the new sword at the hip, should have left little ambiguity regarding her profession. At least, that is what she believes the scholar hope would convoy, a failsafe in the event that his scathing speech caused unexpected violence. Admittedly, this arrangement lent her the air of a wandering swordswoman. Though such a guise might just as easily be mistaken for that of a mercenary with a checkered past.
"It seems not everyone troubles themselves with public appearances," Mayumi remarked.
Shan took notice, perhaps silently wondering if his own insistence that Mayumi be properly dressed for the occasion had been an unnecessary concern. The estate itself stood resplendent under the fierce light of day. White stone walls gleamed, adorned with golden motifs of clouds that shimmered beneath the sun's radiance. It seemed almost as if the architects of the Gan Jin quarter had sought to emulate the fabled Celestial Palace of Earth Kingdom legends, a supposed heavenly realm ruled by a mythical supreme emperor where the ascended immortals and deities live.
Yet not all shared in this auspicious spectacle. Near the estate gates lingered a large cluster of figures, distinctive for their disheveled garbs. Rough hides and animal furs, stained and worn. Even from a distance Mayumi discerned faces streaked with grime, their very presence standing in stark opposition to the immaculate standards of the Upper Ring. She assumed the Gan Jin would be repulsed.
Or so she thought.
"Those are members of the Zhang tribe, and they are the exception," Shan observed. A scholar fated to orbit the levers of this city's power, he possessed a studied familiarity with the many peoples dwelling within Ba Sing Se's walls. With a faint air of lecture, he offered a compressed history. "Ancient rivals to the Gan Jin, their enmity stretched across centuries. Only the intervention of a past Avatar reconciled them, an act of mediation that yours truly will graciously acknowledge."
"I'm surprised they were even invited," Mayumi grimaced.
One of the tribesmen unceremoniously picked his nose and wiped his fingers upon a nearby noblewoman's silk dress, drawing a look of sheer horror from the lady.
"Indeed," Shan said. "But their elders have bound themselves to this warming reconciliation. Since this event celebrates the patriarch's son's marriage, inviting the Zhang chieftain is a prudent gesture to strengthen the ties. While you may see it as ushering the unkempt into a pristine hall, any betrayal to the Zhang would draw sharper scrutiny upon the Gan Jin. Such is the delicate game of reputation played in the Upper Ring every day. Yet, those guests are not wholly barbarians." He gestured subtly, bidding Mayumi to observe further. Each Zhang tribesman carried gifts, wrapped and cradled with care. "They follow the expected courtesies. We ought not fall behind."
"Almost," Mayumi corrected, her tone pointed.
Already voices of dissent flared. A noblewoman sneering openly at the Zhang's lack of cleanliness. Shan and Mayumi moved to join the line of guests. Beyond her blade, Mayumi carried another item, something Shan himself had prepared. In accordance with tradition, gifts must match or surpass those previously offered by the previous sender. What lay within, Mayumi did not know, though it consoled her that any misstep would not rest upon her shoulders. Shan always carried the responsibility of his own designs.
The Zhang, for their part, bore the judgmental stares of Ba Sing Se's elites with unflinching indifference. Cordiality was compelled by circumstance. As special guests, their presence is untouchable.
Soon, all witnessed the greeting of the two tribes' leaders.
"Tribal Chief!" The venerable elder of the Gan Jin, his beard long and white, bowed warmly to a towering Zhang chieftain. They exchanged blessings for the day, and the Zhang delegation stepped forward, offering their gifts. Despite their rough attire, they presented items of surprising refinement. Porcelain bowls, lacquered vessels and other tokens steeped in propriety. Their presence is a symbol, two ancient foes now striving toward friendship.
"A familiar stratagem," Shan remarked, watching intently as the tribal chief praised the patriarch's son about many qualities. The Legalist perceived it as exploiting the historic relationship to becoming closer with the Ganjinese. Unlike the other invitees, the Zhang invests additional time to exchange pleasantries with the Gan Jin welcoming party. The patriarch will naturally reciprocate this. Most see this as normal exchanges during a wedding, but for scholars who aligned themselves with Legalism, trust is the most brittle currencies.
Mayumi folded her arms. "Their hygiene is revolting, yes. But they seem genuine."
Even standing behind him, Mayumi sensed Shan's quiet sight. Perhaps to the scholar, he would rather converse with those deemed as 'uncivilized barbarians' than the petty gentry.
"Your observations are reasonable. Yet yours truly believe there is always an ulterior motive behind every good intention." Shan snapped open his paper fan with deliberate grace. "To trust without caution is to gamble blindly. Better to permit doubt, however faint it may be, to linger in one's judgment. That principle can be applied by anyone."
Mayumi is unsure how to respond.
"Come. Approach with care. Yours truly will converse with the host." Shan strode forward, bowing deeply before the Gan Jin patriarch as the Zhang delegation entered the compound. Since the host is obviously far older, the White Scholar shall demonstrate respect according to the difference in seniority, at least on the surface.
"Ah, Shan, esteemed Zhuangyuan! Welcome!" The patriarch's smile radiated warmth as he greeted the White Scholar. Mayumi observed the elderly man closely. Though every strand of his hair had surrendered to the pallor of age, his posture and vigor spoke of a body far younger, one that had defied time's erosion.
Gong Zi and his younger brother were not far from the entrance either. The groom wore a golden sash adorned with a silk blossom upon his chest, an emblem of festivity and status. Both sons stood just behind their father, tasked with welcoming the guests while the patriarch himself conversed with Shan.
"To commemorate this most auspicious occasion, yours truly wishes to present the young master with a humble offering," announced the White Scholar, snapping his paper fan close.
At that signal, Mayumi stepped forward. From her slender hands emerged a small lacquered box. She lifted its lid and carefully unfurled the gift within, a calligraphic scroll.
The parchment unfurled slowly, its bold ink strokes blooming into view for all assembled to admire.
"I beg your forgiveness for my inadequacy," Shan continued with a courtly bow, his fan opening again in a languid sweep. "I lack the wealth and ability to procure treasures befitting Young Master Gong Zi. Thus, I have employed what little talent I possess to fashion something by my own hand. I hope you will accept it."
The patriarch's eyes gleamed. Those of the Upper Ring could discern artistry, and this is no ordinary brushwork. To receive such a piece freely without coin or contract is a fortune in itself.
"This work… it lives," the elder murmured while entranced. His fingers almost brushed the parchment's near life-like imagery of animals and lush environment before hastily withdrew, as though awakening from a spell. "Such talent is worth far more than gold or silver. Shan, you honor us! Please, be seated and know that your presence alone graces this household with joy." He turned sharply to his eldest son, bidding him escort the honored guest to the grand courtyard. Though Gong Zi is nominally the groom, it was clear that his father still commanded the stage.
Mayumi rolled the scroll shut with quiet precision and gave it to the nearby household retainer. To her, this so-called treasure was hardly unique. It had hung unfinished in Shan's study for months before he employed her. Yet to those who had never set foot in that private chamber, it radiated the aura of rarest art. Perhaps, she mused, Shan had chosen it out of a touch of mischief, a veiled reminder to Gong Zi of debts unpaid.
"What a splendid wedding gift for my son!" the patriarch exclaimed. "We are in your debt, Shan." He beamed, though both men knew the truth. It was the White Scholar's art, not Gong Zi's, that salvaged this important marriage with the Sun family and preserved the Gan Jin's honor.
The patriarch's smile soon faltered when he noticed Gong Zi lingering awkwardly near the back. He cleared his throat with a pointed cough, compelling his heir to perform the expected courtesies. Reluctantly, the youth approached, ushering Shan and his retainer toward a round table among the assembled guests.
As for the scroll, it is carefully stacked among the vast hill of gifts, mostly porcelain vases and embroidered silks. While Mayumi followed Shan into the courtyard, her slightly armored figure did somewhat attract a few curious glances, mostly likely due to the White Scholar's reputation as a recluse that only appear in public when needed.
"Young Master Gong Zi," Shan said with a languid flick of his fan. "It is a privilege to witness what must be the most pivotal day of your life. Word has already reached yours truly of your exquisite painting of Lady Qian Jin. Who would have thought you possessed such remarkable skill? A pity it is not displayed here for all to admire its serenity."
Gong Zi nearly choked before regaining composure. Both men knew the truth that Shan himself had painted the portrait. To expose this in public would be ruinous.
Forcing a strained smile, the groom replied, "Y-your praises are undeserved. I merely follow my father's wishes."
The unease was palpable, yet Shan pressed on. He inquired after Lady Qian Jin's beauty. Gong Zi muttered that the likeness was somewhat exaggerated, his discomfort deepening.
"Rumor speaks of Lady Qian Jin's refined talents despite her seclusion," Shan remarked while leisurely fanning himself. "I am certain your intellect will prove a worthy complement to hers."
Unable to endure further, Gong Zi hissed in a low voice, "I get it! I get it! You win, ok?"
Shan merely maintained a serene voice. "Do not distress yourself, Young Master. Though you failed to attain even the lowest degree in the Civil Service Examination, that does not diminish the power of a poem capable of winning the heart of a maiden."
"Shan," Gong Zi groaned, covering his eyes. "That detail need not be spoken aloud." The scion's humiliation burned hot beneath the mask of propriety. From this day forth, he knew the slightest disrespect toward the White Scholar would draw his father's wrath. After all, if it wasn't for the secret commission of artwork and calligraphies made by Shan, General Sun Bin would have never approved this wedding.
The groom guided the esteemed scholar to a round empty table within the spacious courtyard. Once seated, Shan accepted a porcelain cup from the prepared tray. He sipped the pale-golden infusion, savoring its fragrance.
"It seems the patriarch has graciously prepared the famed Mengding Huangya," Shan said, recalling the name of the brew with ease. "If I am not mistaken, this tea was once deemed fit for the immortals. In ages past, the Air Nomads of old would climb the spring mountains to harvest its tender leaves, presenting them to the Earth King as tribute in return for those rulers to fund shrines and temples across the realm."
Gong Zi had no patience for history lessons. His attention fixed instead on the armed woman shadowing them into the seating area. "Why is she here?" he asked cautiously.
"Is there an issue?" Mayumi asked.
The young heir recoiled. To his mind, the presence of weapons at a wedding invited misfortune.
"I thought weapons are fine in a wedding ceremony," Mayumi replied, remembering similar occasions in her own village even as a child. Every Kyoshi Warrior is armed with at least a small dagger during her special day.
Shan merely sipped his tea, unperturbed while Gong Zi faltered before this breach of custom.
"F-from which part of the Earth Kingdom do you hail?" the Ganjinese asked at last, while trying not to appear too bothered. "Things don't work the same everywhere."
Mayumi realized belatedly that she had overlooked the cultural gulf between her island home and Ba Sing Se. Among most mainlanders, weapons are ill omens when given as gifts, harbingers of malice instead tokens of goodwill. A blade is considered a tool of war in most places, not an ornament to grace a guest's hand.
After a hurried explanation was offered, including Mayumi proclaiming her own genuine ignorance, Gong Zi quickly directed that the visitors' retainers are to proceed to the third floor where refreshments awaited. Mayumi bowed, turned and withdrew to find the staircase.
The groom exhaled audibly, as if shedding a burden. "W-who was that?" he asked Shan.
"Yours truly is but a scholar," Shan replied, still intent upon his cup of tea. "Yet when matters stray beyond a gentleman's control, a capable blade at one's side is a sufficient safety." He glanced at Gong Zi. "Do you not recognize her?"
The young heir shook his head, dazed. Shan took another unhurried sip, as though the matter were no more than passing drizzle on a tiled roof.
"It would seem another guest has arrived." The White Scholar's gaze drifted toward the entrance, where a figure had just exchanged pleasantries with the patriarch of the estate. The man's expression, once genial, darkened at the sight of the scholar robed in white, the only one amongst the vast clusters of green, yellow and brown hues. To this day no one had managed to improve the young scholar's essay, a humiliation that stripped Te Laoye of reputation.
Unbothered, Shan savored his tea in silence, ignoring the old man's bitter glare. Gong Zi returned dutifully to the gate to greet further arrivals. Alone at his round table, the White Scholar listened idly to servants bustling about in preparation for Lady Qian Jin's entrance, while snatches of gossip drifted to his ears from the other Upper Ring guests. Most are talks of Jin Lian, the notorious paramour and the shame she had inflicted upon the Ximen clan. Of course, some within the courtyard have already noticed the armed retainer that accompanied the scholar, with certain gossips rumoring about that woman's true powers.
Shan's attention shifted when another figure appeared. A true special guest has graced this day.