"Is this the Ximen family's main hall, or a brothel?" Mayumi narrowed her eyes in disgust.
"Both," Shan replied coldly. "Though I have seen worse."
Mayumi could not fathom what worse might entail. Shan strode into the hall, and Mayumi followed while masking her revulsion behind a practiced composure. The other guests, all young men of the Upper Ring, appeared utterly enthralled by the female attendants drifting about in their scantily clad clothing that are adorned with the purple plum insignia of the Ximen household. The spectacle of perfumed debauchery stood in obscene contrast to the hall's stately architecture, whose solemn grandeur seemed defiled by such indulgence.
Moments later, the leader of the delegation from earlier entered hastily, his voice rising above the laughter and music, announcing the White Scholar's arrival.
Shan merely flicked open his paper fan, waving away the stifling air with indifference.
"T—the White Scholar?" stammered a freshly minted Keju graduate, so taken by his own distractions that he barely noticed the entrance of newcomers. One by one, realization dawned upon the rest, the man who had publicly humiliated the Te clan now stood before them, observing their disgraceful revelry. It is of course most shameful to be seen seduced by mere servants of the Ximen household.
"Oh, don't mind him," cooed the woman perched on the guest's lap, drawing his chin back toward her painted smile. Yet one cutting glance from Shan was enough to drain the blood from the young man's face, silencing his carnal appetite entirely.
A thick awkwardness settled over the hall, a shared, unspoken shame of being looked down upon. None dared meet the eyes of the highest laureate of the Civil Service Examinations. Though Shan had not yet assumed high office, the prospect of his future influence loomed like a sword suspended above their heads.
Salvation came in the form of their host. At the far end of the hall sat Ximen Qing, ranked third in this year's Keju ranking. A smile curved his lips. Rising from his seat, he spread both arms wide in greeting.
"What an honor to receive the famed White Scholar!" Ximen Qing declared with theatrical delight, beginning to make his way to the new guests. "Truly, it is I who am privileged by your presence."
Shan fanned himself languidly, as though brushing away more foul odor. "Yours truly heard your family's fisheries have borne quite the prosperous yield."
He paused, more than needed before continuing.
"Congratulations."
Mayumi lingered a step behind as Shan exchanged the requisite courtesies expected of the aristocracy. She is well aware that his regard for those born into privilege was hardly warm, and the sentiment is probably mutual. Watching him confront Ximen Qing, she recognized that for the sake of maintaining public cordiality, civility is maintained through calculated artifice, conjured for appearance's sake. In this arena, a measured dose of flattery is unavoidable. The Ximen clan is not a family one challenged lightly, certainly not on impulse.
The slight dullness in Shan's voice, however, is impossible to hide. Even his perfunctory compliments could not disguise his lack of enthusiasm. Ximen Qing beamed regardless, adopting an air of modesty in response to the uninspired praise.
"To think the Zhuangyuan himself would offer me such words, what an honor indeed!" Ximen Qing declared. "And how delightful to learn that the White Scholar also shares my humble interests."
Mayumi's eyebrow twitched, she gladly entertained the notion of testing her new blade on this preening scoundrel.
"Perhaps we might dispense with the more frivolous embellishments," Shan replied, tone now sharper despite still upholding the appearance of a dignified gentleman. "Yours truly do not have the luxury of time."
The spoiled scion proceeded to outline the context of today's celebration. The Ximen family's private fishery had prospered in recent dealings with the United Republic, opening a lucrative new source of wealth. After passing the Keju exam, Ximen Qing has been entrusted by the patriarch, who delegated management of the enterprise. It is a decision that miraculously had not led to ruin. Recent developments in Republic City also promised even greater opportunities for Ximen Qing's grand ambitions.
At last, the wayward heir addressed the discomfort caused by his significant other, or more accurately his latest one. "Allow me to offer a formal apology as well. My Jin Lian can be willfully inattentive. I trust yours is not so unpredictable."
Mayumi fixed Ximen Qing with a cutting gaze, one sharp enough to wound the ego of lesser men. The delinquent only answered with a languid smile, which did little to ease her irritation. Were this the Lower Ring, a swift punch to the face might have resolved the matter most satisfyingly. But here, amid the lacquered refinement of Ba Sing Se's aristocracy, violence is a forbidden currency. In this arena, words are the real weapons. Thus, Shan wielded them without further idling, riposting with his own Legalistic reasonings.
"One should always fulfill their role without overstepping bounds," the scholar said. "But a person must bear responsibility for unruly subordinates, and uncontrollable pets."
A delicate barb disguised as Legalistic doctrine. Ximen Qing, ever the self-satisfied host, betrayed no obvious offense despite knowing what Shan's tyrannical school of thought is capable of when enacted in full. Instead, he laughed, even agreeing with the sentiment somewhat.
The other young scholars observed in uneasy silence as the two men simply conversed. Inevitably, Shan lightly 'inquired' about what is happening right in the hall. "It seems yours truly's late arrival has left me somewhat confused. Students of so many noble Earth Sages appear to have temporarily forgotten the teachings of the First Earth Sage, especially about the virtues of familial propriety and chastity."
Mayumi's eyes drifted across the chamber, savoring the discomfort rippling through the guests' faces. It is evident that Ximen Qing sought to ensnare these impressionable graduates into the Ximen clan's service, Shan included. By delaying their entrance, the White Scholar had deftly robbed the host of his leverage, denying the scion the chance to apply peer pressure as if such a tactic would even work in the first. Though Shan himself is far too detached to care for such petty theatrics, his mere presence as a Zhuangyuan, exemplar of learned dignity, cast a harsh light upon the sycophants wallowing in their host's indulgence.
The White Scholar flicked open his fan with deliberate poise. "Do not worry, fellow gentlemen. Your secrets are safe with yours truly. It is in the best interest for those who graduated from the Civil Service Examination to maintain decorum. We would not wish the public to misinterpret, would we? But rest assured, yours truly am not one to indulge in slander and gossip."
Although, the White Scholar made no such promise on behalf of the swordswoman standing beside him. One visit to Grandma Jin's eatery with a loose tongue, and the entire city from the merchants of the Lower Ring to the generals of the Upper would hear of their indiscretions. Some of these scholars among them might have families of modest influence, but influence could not cleanse dishonor.
"You are absolutely correct, White Scholar!" cried one flustered guest, shoving aside a servant to sit upright. Others hastened to follow, feigning composure and bowing with palms and fists pressed together in a show of contrition. Shan ignored them entirely, taking his own seat, which are part of the table and chairs arranged on the sides of the hall. The rest, uncertain whether his coldness meant censure or mercy, could only pray that their humiliation would not spread beyond this place.
"Well then, now that the White Scholar has joined us, let us begin in earnest!" Ximen Qing said, returning to his own seat and table on the dais. "It is with great honor that my father, the esteemed admiral, has entrusted me with partial leadership of the Ximen family's fishery. Recent triumphs in securing a trade route to Republic City have greatly enriched our coffers. And what is the purpose of success, if not to share it?"
The guests murmured approvingly. Shan quietly poured himself a cup of tea, though he chose instead to boil and sip from reserve he had brought from the Gan Jin estate. It is a safer choice, judging by the suspiciously reddened faces of the others.
"Of course, such success could never have been achieved through my own efforts alone," emphasized the scion, who purposely did not hoard all the credit. "The wisdom of learned men is invaluable to the governance of commerce. Though this is but a modest branch of our clan's enterprise, I have faith that with the right minds, it may yet ascend to greater heights. Our dealings with Republic City require cultured men, scholars capable of navigating its avenues of trade. Those who join me will find incentives beyond imagination."
Shan continued to drink the tea from the Gan Jin patriarch and examined the bag of suspicious petals prepared by the Ximen host. The flower is unmistakably the White Dragon Bush, prized for both its beauty and rarity, and prohibitively costly even among Upper Ring nobles. The sheer abundance of it steeped in the Ximen family's teapots is a silent declaration of wealth and arrogance.
Yet the White Scholar remained unmoved. Temptation is a luxury he had long since discarded.
Ximen Qing rose from his seat, his movement alone enough to summon attention from every corner of the hall. With two crisp claps of his hands, the feast commenced.
Mayumi's gaze drifted instinctively toward the side entrances, where servants began filing in. Her breath caught as she beheld what followed.
Steaming platters soon emerged in steady procession, borne by servants who arranged them across tables with choreographed precision. A single theme governed the feast, the bounty of the sea. No expense had been spared. Each dish was perfumed with rare spices seldom seen outside the kitchens of the wealthy, their fragrance carrying a promise of indulgence.
Mayumi found herself momentarily stunned. Even the simplest offering upended expectation. A fish fillet, its flesh a deep, uncanny red, suggested a species from far colder waters than anything known on the island of her birth. Proximity to the North Pole, she supposed, granted access to such extraordinary creatures. Yet it was not the fish alone that captured her attention. Arrayed beside it were delicacies she had only ever heard of in passing. There are behemoth abalone the size of shields, giant crabs dredged from the abyss, and clams presented with their pearls still nestled within, as if the ocean had surrendered its treasures to the Ximen family without protest.
The cost of acquiring such ingredients staggered her. In her island village, even the most seasoned fishermen rarely found seafood of notable value. A few mussels clinging to a boat's underside were considered a stroke of luck. Crabs scuttling across the shoreline were small enough to fit in one palm. As for abalones? They are rarer, a single undersized shell might be misidentified as one of their shell currencies or some precious artifact eagerly sold to a merchant for a handful of copper coins.
Regardless, the meal here is a deliberate proclamation to awe those in attendance. The Ximen clan's success in its northern fishery enterprise was unmistakable, and the message woven into each dish was clear. Wealth flows to those aligned with this household. Access to rare delicacies is but the mildest of its promises, a lure almost guaranteed to captivate impressionable young scholars. She could hardly fault them. Most had likely never glimpsed the ocean beyond the city walls, let alone tasted its most exotic offerings. Enchanted by the intoxicating aroma and the gleam of extravagant dishes, the other scholars here surrendered readily to Ximen Qing's spectacle. In their dazzled eyes, the scion's earlier boasts now seemed thoroughly vindicated.
She watched them attempt civility as they indulged in the prestigious spread of seafood, their manners strained by the intoxicating aroma that filled the hall. Mayumi could not help but imagine how her younger sister would have fared here. Surely, the briny perfume of the ocean's harvest would have dismantled what little restraint the girl possessed. Their shared fondness for anything that once swam or scuttled beneath the waves is enough to convince Mayumi that Satchiko would have been drooling at this scrumptious feast outright.
"Please compose yourself," Shan said while sipping some tea. His eyes flicked briefly toward her face, where a faint thread of saliva betrayed her appetite. Mayumi swiftly corrected the indignity with a single, unhurried wipe, pretending nothing had occurred.
As Ximen Qing launched into a florid speech that she promptly chose to ignore, Mayumi noticed how the White Scholar seemed quietly tormented by the very dishes before him. Of course, his expression tries to portray nothing, face is the same serene mask it always was. But she could tell that every morsel from the sea offended his senses. Naturally, Ximen Qing could not have known of his aversion. Thus, the host's well-intentioned gesture of a sumptuous display meant to impress the guests had turned into yet another thorn the White Scholar would remember. It was unlikely that the seafood banquet had been conceived as mockery, since Ximen Qing intends to seek the loyalty of all the young talents within this hall, including the newest Zhuangyuan. Perhaps this is a simple matter of ignorance undermining strategy.
"Quite rare indeed," Shan remarked, barely loud enough for Ximen Qing to catch the compliment. The words were hollow, a polite deception polished by long practice. The host's face lit up at the praise, yet Mayumi, well-acquainted with Shan's temperament, knew he would gladly denounce the food if circumstances were different. The dishes, though ostentatious, leaned heavily on the luxury of their ingredients. The preparation itself was a bit crude, simple boiling and perfunctory frying, and sauces layered so thickly they concealed any artistry. She had expected the Ximen family's chefs to possess greater finesse. Even the cooks at Grandma Jin's humble eatery, armed only with common ingredients from the Lower Ring, demonstrated a far more profound understanding of Earth Kingdom culinary craft.
Around them, young scholars dined with visible delight, many savoring what is likely the most extravagant meal of their lives. This banquet, Mayumi realized, is less an act of generosity than of persuasion. To feast here is to glimpse the promise of service to the Ximen clan. Wealth, refinement, and luxury laid out like bait. Even among the affluent households of the Upper Ring, such abundance of rare seafood is seldom seen, and the great abalone alone is a delicacy of near-mythic scarcity.
Shan's gaze drifted over the lacquered platters before his own table. Boiled crab, steamed fish, and thick cuts of abalone gleaming beneath the sauce's sheen. All demanding his participation. For the sake of appearances, he would oblige. Ximen Qing is still blissfully unaware of the scholar's picky appetite, no doubt imagined that this lavish display would earn the Zhuangyuan's admiration enough into serving the Ximen family.
Lifting a pair of golden chopsticks provided by the host, Shan placed a slice of abalone delicately upon his tongue. His movements were slow, each chew an exercise in restraint. This natural disdain for seafood contrasts others who devoured their portions with unguarded greed, the White Scholar's every motion suppressed discomfort. Mayumi saw the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, the same involuntary grimace she once saw when he had endured her rustic ohaw soup. Yet so long as his charade deceived Ximen Qing, the performance is a success.
"Are you… all right?" Mayumi whispered, her voice barely audible.
Shan dismissed the concern with a faint wave of his hand, struggling to suppress a convulsion. His obstinate determination to persist was painful to watch, though fortunately, few seemed aware of his herculean effort.
A household servant soon approached his table. Mayumi had seen her earlier speaking to Ximen Qing upon the dais, no doubt exchanging discreet information. The woman, voluptuous and self-assured, carried a porcelain flask that is unmistakably filled with fine wine.
"Young Master Shan, will you not take a cup?" she asked, her tone sweet as syrup, the lilt of her voice meant to ensnare the Zhuangyuan scholar into accepting a drink both potent and perilous.
"Yours truly shall pour his own wine," Shan replied coldly. "You may withdraw. Tell Ximen Qing that I find the feast most delightful."
His expression remained a mask of indifference, a calculated gesture in misdirection that few could read.
With reluctant grace, the servant placed the wine jar upon the table and withdrew. Shan then filled his cup himself, discreetly raising his sleeve to shield his mouth as he drank, a refined affectation of noble etiquette meant to conceal the unseemly act of drinking. Mayumi had once found this custom curious, though she now recognized its utility.
From her vantage point, it is clear that Shan was not drinking at all. He only pretended to, deftly disposing of the wine in a motion so practiced it might have passed unnoticed even by seasoned courtiers. Even a rustic like her could discern his suspicion that the host had laced the wine with some subtle aphrodisiac, judging by the flushed and pliant faces of the other impressionable guests.
The feast pressed on. Many of the gathered scholars were dazzled by the abundance before them, some openly declaring their admiration for the Ximen family and even expressing willingness to serve their house. Each time such fawning words were uttered, Mayumi noticed Shan's brows tighten with quiet disdain, hatred even.
"I trust you have all relished the first course," Ximen Qing's voice rang across the hall. "For the finest treasures of our family have yet to grace your tables!"
Mayumi cast a sidelong glance toward Shan, who she suspected is inwardly cursing at the thought of eating more seafood.
Soon, an array of increasingly exotic dishes arrived. Sea cucumbers glistening like jewels and spiny urchins exuding a briny fragrance so intense that even Mayumi's composure wavered. Then, the highlight of the feast emerged last. A massive cauldron of shark fin soup, the translucent fins undulating upon the surface like spectral veils.
"Splendid," Shan muttered, his voice edged with a trace of bitterness that barely escaped his control. Yet to maintain the delicate facade of civility, he forced the word into the semblance of praise.
Mayumi averted her gaze as he partook into more of the dishes. She and Sachiko, accustomed to the sea's bounty, might have savored such delicacies with ease. But for Shan, who loathed the taste of anything dredged from the ocean, it is only torture.