"Director Han Fei! What an honor to receive your presence!" The Gan Jin patriarch declared intentionally loudly, bowing with evident respect.
The guest smiled warmly. "There is no need to burden me with titles," he said. Yet the directorship of Ba Sing Se's great museum and curator of its priceless relics is a post of considerable prestige. Though not an official in the realm of armies or ledgers, Han Fei ranked among the city's loftiest personages. His attendance lent the union of the Gan and Qian houses greater legitimacy still.
"No need for such ceremony, old friend," Han Fei chuckled. "The honor is mine." His eyes softened, touched with sentiment. "This is the first time you have orchestrated such a celebration for the young. Truly splendid. Even the Earth Kings of old might envy such grandeur."
The Ganjinese reputation for immaculate orderliness is once again on display. Even the Upper Ring's proudest families could not fault the polish of these grounds. The floor shone so bright that guests jested they might glimpse their own reflections beneath their feet.
After a round of compliments and laughter, Han Fei finally entered the courtyard. As he strolled past the tables, merchants and envoys of wealthy Upper Ring houses alike rose to bow. Even Te Gaogui's father, for all his rancor toward Shan, paid the curator the utmost courtesy.
At last Han Fei reached Shan's table.
"Mentor." Shan rose with fist to palm, bowing with measured grace.
"No need to be too formal, Shan," Han Fei said, taking his seat like an old man relieved by rest. The younger man poured him some tea. "This is an auspicious day. The marriage of these two houses shall bring joy to the Upper Ring. You have done well."
Word of the match had already raced through the aristocracy. It was whispered that Gong Zi had impressed Lady Qian Jin with his poetry and brushwork. Though his failure at the Keju examinations remained a stain, the union is a chance to salvage some measure of honor. General Sun Bin himself had blessed the betrothal spoke volumes of the youth's latent talent.
Yet while Earth Sages prattled endlessly on the sanctity of marriage, men such as Shan and Han Fei took their solace in quieter pursuits of tea and conversation, the private relief of having weathered an irksome ordeal. Han Fei's manner was subtle, tempered by long years. Whereas Shan, if granted greater latitude, might have pressed his sharper opinions further. The ascent of true meritocracy remained a slow, steep climb.
"Yours truly is rather curious as to what Lady Qian Jin truly looks like. They say her complexion rivals all the flowers of Ba Sing Se combined." Shan mused, refilling Han Fei's cup once it was drained. Though his words carried a false tone of admiration for the Ganjinese artist's craft, a trace of slight unease lingered behind them. The question was not of skill, but of truth. The White Scholar is wandering whether the portrait captured the noblewoman's likeness to a reasonable degree that did not raise suspicion.
None beyond Lady Qian Jin's kin or the patriarch's household had ever glimpsed her face. Shan's gaze drifted toward a nearby table where several generals sat in lively camaraderie. General Sun Bin reclined in his wheelchair, surrounded by a few younger officers, laughter rising like gentle music between sips of tea. By all appearances, the father harbored no misgivings toward the proposed union.
And yet, it was the groom's lack of happiness that make one wonder whether the artist's brush had captured the truth. After all, Shan knew the beauty in that painting belongs to someone else entirely.
"Since there are countless refined ladies who have cast their eyes upon this impeccably tidy and striking young man, one might say Qian Jin is most fortunate," Han Fei remarked, his words curling through the steam rising from his cup. "Yet I must also commend Gong Zi's obedience in this delicate affair."
The director broke into a light chuckle, while Shan sipped his tea with cautious restraint, well aware that his mentor was rarely considered normal by those who knew him personally.
"Is it not amusing?" Han Fei continued, with a tone both playful and cutting. "A youth who could not even secure the lowest rank in the civil service examinations has somehow dazzled a high-born lady with the borrowed airs of a scholar. I wonder did the spirits lend a hand? Or perhaps the citizens of the Upper Ring are simply too eager to be deceived by appearances. And tell me, is it not strange that even a farmer's son should climb near the top of the Civil Service Exam's leaderboard? Curious indeed."
Shan could not deny the truth in his words. While exceedingly rare, given the advantage of wealthy households, it remained legally possible for the poorest peasant to ascend to the highest offices. Yet even such paragons of merit would still be spurned by those of noble birth, a peculiar defect of the Earth Kingdom for thousands of years, and one that Shan believed must someday be remedied completely.
"Gong Zi has improved, reflecting upon his past failures," Shan replied with measured calm. "Even the ugliest silkworm may emerge as something altogether changed once it leaves its cocoon."
"Yes, my protege," Han Fei then riposted with dry wit. "But of what use is the moth when only the silk is prized? Alas, the world fawns over frivolities."
The vanity of the Upper Ring's certain inhabitants is no secret. Beauty and spectacle held greater sway than substance. They admired the prestige of this union between the Gan Jin heir and the daughter of Ba Sing Se's prominent general, yet few grasped the deeper intent. It is all to cement General Sun Bin's loyalty to the city.
Han Fei sighed. The middle-aged gentleman, having already endured half of life's seasons, had grown weary and circumspect. He urged his protege to guard against leaning too heavily upon others to conceal any deficiency of his own.
"Yours truly mean no arrogance," Shan said as he poured another cup for his mentor. "I have already walked far upon the path of the scholar. Though I am not yet ranked among the highest officials, the title of Zhuangyuan alone opens wide avenues for my ambition." His words were calm, but he masked himself well. Han Fei, like many men seasoned by time, seemed reluctant to let the young run unchecked.
"I know, I know," Han Fei sighed again. "I do not doubt your talent. Gong Zi's docility is commendable, but a fortress built on sand crumbles all the same. His failing lies in words without weight." He eyed Shan. "As for those with talent, it is distractions that warrants most concern. I fear you too may falter upon this road. Certainty is a poison, my protege. Once I too was young and vigorous. I have seen greatness abandoned, squandered upon petty indulgences, even by men I personally knew while they lived."
A silence lingered between them.
"I assure you," Shan replied firmly, concealing his thoughts. "This student will not repeat such errors."
"I hope so," said Han Fei at length. "For that was the very oath my last student once made."
Shan grew wary at the words. At that moment, a particular brown-haired swordswoman passed across the second-floor gallery, searching for the retainers' quarters located on the third floor. Her appearance at today's event is risky, but not unplanned.
"You should not concern yourself with some fragile blossom growing from the cliffside," Han Fei insinuated, eyes fixed on his current student. "I know you grew tired of those endless betrothal letters thrust through your door."
Shan is slow to the correction, not wishing to offend his mentor. "Yours truly offered them no flattering reply, but I found other uses for the letters." In truth, he had consigned many to the kitchen's fire. Yet the senders, several of whom are present in this very courtyard, still imagined their daughters might ensnare the heart of a future official of great prominence despite the suspicious appearance of a tactically placed retainer by his side. Their sidelong glares are easy to ignore for the Legalist. But to preserve his independence and erode the lingering patrimonialism of the Upper Ring, Shan resolved never to accept some noble maiden as a bride. In every single nation's political circle, to marry a woman is to be tied to her entire household, something he would not yield to.
Marriage, after all, is but another instrument of political maneuvers. Even the wedding they now attend is no exception. Family ties and power are hopelessly entangled throughout the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation alike, and noble birth still strangles true merit. Legalist scholars like Shan might dream of bulldozing the fabric apart harshly with iron logic, but Han Fei's tempered wisdom counseled patience. They too must play asinine games under the stratagems bore fruit.
"I presume you have already met Lady Te Gaogui," Han Fei resumed. "It saddens me somewhat to see her settle for second place in the examinations. We might have celebrated the first woman Zhuangyuan in history."
Shan quickly discerned the contours of his mentor's scheme. Though most young men might have greeted such a prospect with boundless delight, a harsh Legalist such as himself would not permit even a single toe to be dipped into the swamp of patrimonialism.
"The purpose of the Keju is to choose people of talent by merit alone," Shan replied without an ounce of remorse. "There is no need to pursue our aims by aping the practices of the nepotists."
The White Scholar showed no concern that others might overhear. Unlike his aged master, Shan lacked certain subtlety. His strict meritocratic vision, shared only by a handful of unyielding Legalists, left no room for private advantage or familial schemes.
"I spoke with Lord Te on the way here," Han Fei began. "Though there have been frictions of late, he is open to offering his daughter's hand in marriage to a worthy scholar, even one who may have offended his household's honor."
Shan masked a grimace, restraining the instinct to denounce such an arrangement outright as the scheme of Te Laoye so that his grievance would not offend his mentor. But perhaps the troubling news from Zigan, the Te clan's domain, was the reason why he stayed silent. Even the White Scholar knew such a move was not inconceivable if it wasn't for the threat of bloodshed. Weaker lands that are easy prey for grasping neighbors would naturally explore even the humblest of stratagems. In the scholar's eyes, what better bulwark than feigned amity with a hegemon?
Astute though Lady Te might be, her career could never match the influence granted to a Zhuangyuan, whose rank will be more likely to influence Ba Sing Se's highest decisions. However Shan might scorn political marriages, most of the world still considered blood ties a legitimate instrument of power, having little love for a truly meritocratic world in Shan's vision
"Ba Sing Se needs allies," Han Fei declared gravely, intent on quelling his protege's dissatisfaction. "But not allies who share our borders."
Shan discerned the implication at once. Throughout the ages of civil strife, it had ever been the custom of shrewd rulers to seek allies from afar, a stratagem practiced by all who dreamt of restoring the Earth Kingdom's shattered unity. Yet, in the case of the Te family, such diplomacy reeked less of ambition than of desperation, a final gambit to spare their people from the ruinous slaughter looming on the horizon. Their gesture toward the hegemon was no true pursuit of concord, but a calculated masquerade meant to instill hesitation in Zigan's rivals.
All of this could scarcely have been conceived by the ever-obstinate Te Laoye. If the proposal to strengthen ties with Ba Sing Se had not been contrived by one of his more cunning advisors, then it could only have sprung from the mind of their heiress, whose absence at this gathering spoke louder than any word uttered tonight.
"You stand in a privileged position," Han Fei emphasized. "A woman of both beauty and intellect is nearly impossible to court. In all my years working near His Excellency, few diversions amuse me more than watching the scions of Upper Ring households fail to pluck the garden's fairest flower. Many clan elders labor to secure Lady Te as their daughter-in-law."
"And some try to court her directly," Shan muttered, insinuating his disgust. He spoke loudly enough for others to hear, contempt for the nepotists unrestrained.
Though a son of Ba Sing Se himself, Shan's faith in merit made him champion ability over pedigree. The rot of aristocracy had gnawed the Earth Kingdom for thousands of years, and whispers of senior nobles attempting to secure Lady Te as a mere concubine provoked no surprise in him. In the young Legalist's eyes, prestige is nothing beside the measure of true service.
"They saw her only through the prism of utility," Shan remarked, steering the conversation away from the grotesqueries of the Upper Ring. A young scholar devoted to the tenets of Legalism, he concerned himself more with the innate flaws of humankind. "The pestilence of patrimonialism spares none. Beyond her remarkable beauty, the entrenched clans of this city appraise her solely by her promise of attaining the Zhuangyuan distinction."
"Valid," Han Fei admitted. "Still, Te Gaogui would eclipse Lady Qian Jin if she appeared suddenly."
"Yours truly insists that the nepotists would scarcely notice Lady Te were she not born into a major clan," Shan replied, refilling his mentor's cup with a rare flicker of sympathy for the heiress. His frustration lay with a world that prized superficial noble birth above the impartial yardstick of merit. "But why indulge Te Laoye's interests?" Shan pressed. "Why not forge an official treaty with Zigan rather than chain your pupil to one who may not share our ideals? A dutiful servant of the state cannot dilute loyalty with the selfish priorities of a single household."
Shan saw the plague everywhere across the world. Civil servants entangled by marriages to power, their duties stained by obligation and their integrity bartered away as if it were a dowry. This taint of nepotism and familial relations disturbing affairs of the state is even abhorrently considered normal by those pedantic moralists who styled themselves as Earth Sages.
"I know you may still doubt my abilities," Shan continued, steady but not supplicant. "Yet I harbor no affection for Lady Te. My talents are of greater use to Ba Sing Se instead of relegated to... this."
The very notion that his mastery of the literary arts should be squandered in service of a marriage union is beneath a Zhuangyuan's dignity. An understandable sentiment, since Legalists always see the world differently than the mainstream scholars taught by the Earth Sages who spout nothing except an idealized morality.
Han Fei merely nodded, acknowledging both the brilliance but also the impatience of his star pupil. But again, for the middle-aged director, youthful ambition is a stallion that must never be left too long off the reins.
"Your time will come," the director exhaled, his voice a tempered sigh. "Patience seldom sits easily on youthful shoulders. Your ambition and talent outshine your peers, yet I would have your ascent shaped with deliberation, not haste. No citadel is raised in a single day. Even we must bow to the same weary conventions as Sages and Avatars, accepting that the people change at a glacial pace."
The starkest difference between them was age. For Shan, ambition is fuel. Once kindled, it could not be extinguished easily. The man seated across from him, however, thrived on subtle maneuvering and long designs. Some strategies formulated under the patient philosophy of Neutral Jing can truly tests a person's ability to simply wait for the best opportunity for everything. Even for those who are not taught under the tradition of the mainstream Earth Sages, respect for seniority commands a certain respect. Where parents of blood are absent, teachers assumed authority, even arranging their pupils' marriages.
"Treasure this opportunity, and do not hurry the course," Han Fei advised, seeking to dull the keenness of Shan's ambition to hasten towards a world rid of those Earth Sages. "You may not yet glimpse the advantage of entering the Te household, but believe me, half the young scholars of this city would shed blood to stand in your place."
Yet behind his consolatory words, both men recognized the precarious state of the Te clan. Though still esteemed, its strength waned. The well-governed and prosperous Zigan is envied by every neighboring rival who cast covetous eyes upon it. A small domain that excels at learning and medicine is of course no match for the warring entities that seals it on all sides.
"I believe you and Lady Te would make a fitting match," Han Fei said, despite Shan's resistance against the idea. "You are of age, and I have yet to grant you a worthy gift for achieving the highest rank on the Civil Service Exam. With this alliance, I could secure your future and strike several birds with a single stone."
Han Fei lifted his cup, sipping deeply and measured his next words with care, the same stratagem he had employed upon countless students.
"If Zigan falls, emboldened by the ambitions of a neighbor, a greater power may rise to contest even Ba Sing Se itself."
It was a genuine statement. While Ba Sing Se hasn't actually fought any real wars since the realm splintered, they watched as the map shifted like sand. A few short years is all it takes for a small petty state to rise and grow large enough to rival the likes of Omashu and Ba Sing Se. It already happened, it can happen again near the land of Zigan.
Shan's eyes narrowed, hiding the raw frustration beneath their calm veneer. To the White Scholar, political marriages are mere trappings of vanity. Yet the world remained enthralled by such arrangements, clinging to traditions he dismissed as hollow.
"Yours truly will give it thought," Shan replied with thin courtesy. He disliked the notion, but pragmatism demanded a hearing.
In the past, newly invaginated Zhuangyuan scholars had been inundated with offers of betrothal from patrician households, some even matched with princesses by decree of the Earth King himself. Of course, even these marriages forged are not of love, but to solidify loyalty closer to the throne. Yet here is Shan, scorning the entire charade.
"Do not let yourself be led astray," Han Fei murmured, cradling his tea with serene composure. "Distractions erode the very foundations you have laid. I once had a pupil who defied his oath, lured by a mere roadside flower. Now he stands disgraced. Perhaps I had not tempered his malleable mind with sufficient rigor."
"Your pupil will not falter on the same mistake," Shan replied firmly, dismissing the cautionary tale with disdain. In his eyes, ambition was never worth forfeiting for trifles. Yet, this arrangement by Han Fe's machinations cannot be easily ignored.
Han Fei turned as the scent of wine grew stronger in the air. Rumor had it that the patriarch himself had perfected a secret recipe, one capable of fermenting a wine of extraordinary potency. The precise method, involving a rare strain of sorghum, was guarded with near-religious secrecy.
Though every guest sat dutifully at their assigned table, no food or drink would be served until the wedding rites concluded. The musicians' gentle melodies wove through the hall meant to soothe the waiting crowd, yet they did little to quiet Han Fei's growing hunger.
The older man exhaled, his gaze following a line of servants bearing clay jars up toward the third floor. "The patriarch must insist on keeping his most honored guests waiting," he murmured. Only then did they notice how many among the Zhang Tribe claimed the title of retainer, and how conveniently those same retainers had been granted early access to the wine. It seemed this tribe of seemingly unrefined hunter-gatherers possessed far more cunning than their reputation suggested.