Chapter 4: The Marriage Arrangement
Day 9. My parents send a messenger.
"Your presence is required at the family residence. Urgent matter. Attendance mandatory."
The messenger won't elaborate. Just hands me the summons and leaves.
Great Sage runs scenarios. "Probability distribution: Family emergency (12.3%), disciplinary action (8.7%), financial crisis (15.2%), arranged marriage proposal (48.4%), cultivation breakthrough support request (6.1%), other (9.3%)."
Arranged marriage. Of course.
The family residence is three li from the academy, in the outer district where minor clan members live. The house is modest—two rooms, shared courtyard with three other families. My parents waited until dark to summon me. Fewer witnesses.
My father sits at the low table, back rigid. My mother stands by the door, hands folded. Neither smiles.
"Mo Bei." My father's voice is formal. "Your mother and I have secured a marriage arrangement with the Gu Yue Qing family. Elder Qing Shu has agreed to betroth his granddaughter to you."
The words land like stones.
"Gu Yue Qing Shu," Great Sage confirms. "Age: Seventeen. Cultivation: Rank 2, 34% progress to Rank 3. Talent: B-grade. Family: Elder Qing Shu, significant clan influence. Appearance: Documented as beautiful. Social status: High-tier academy student. Current romantic interest: Based on social pattern analysis, 73.2% probability of attachment to Fang Zheng."
Perfect. She doesn't want me, and they're trading me anyway.
"This is an honor," my mother adds. "The Qing family rarely considers arrangements with our branch."
Translation: We're desperate for status, and you're the currency.
"When is the meeting?" I ask.
My father's shoulders relax slightly. He expected argument. "Tomorrow. Formal tea ceremony. Conduct yourself appropriately."
MO BEI'S FATHER
Gu Yue Wei Chen watched his son's face for reaction. Nothing. No joy, no anger, just that same calculating emptiness Mo Bei had worn since the meridian incident.
The boy used to dream. Used to want things.
Now Mo Bei moved through life like someone checking boxes on a list. Cultivation: adequate. Studies: acceptable. Social standing: forgettable.
The marriage arrangement was Wei Chen's last attempt to change that trajectory. Qing Shu came from power. Maybe proximity to power would wake something in his son.
Or maybe Mo Bei was already broken, and this was just prolonging the inevitable.
"Dismissed," Wei Chen said, softer than intended.
Mo Bei bowed—perfect form, zero feeling—and left.
Wei Chen poured wine he couldn't afford and tried not to think about failure.
Day 10. The tea ceremony.
Gu Yue Qing Shu arrives precisely on time. Beautiful, yes—Great Sage's assessment was accurate. But her beauty is calculated. Every hair positioned, every movement rehearsed.
She sits across from me. The tea master pours. We observe three breaths of silence before speaking, as tradition demands.
"I understand you placed sixteenth in last month's rankings," she says. Her tone is pleasant. Her eyes are ice.
"Consistency has its own value," I reply.
"Does it?" She sips tea. "I placed fourth. Improvement trajectory suggests second place within six months."
Translation: You're beneath me, and we both know it.
Great Sage provides real-time analysis. "Subject demonstrates: Status-focused worldview (probability 94.3%), emotional attachment to external target (probability 89.7%), contempt for perceived inferior partners (probability 91.2%). Recommendation: Initiate dissolution strategy immediately. Prolonged engagement will complicate extraction."
I need to make her want to end this more than I do.
"Fourth place is impressive," I say. "Though I heard Fang Zheng placed third. His improvement has been remarkable."
There. The microsecond reaction. Her fingers tighten on the cup.
"Fang Zheng is talented," she says carefully. "But talent without proper family support rarely advances far."
She's trying to convince herself.
GU YUE QING SHU
This boy was everything Qing Shu feared becoming—mediocre, forgettable, trapped.
She studied Mo Bei across the tea table. Adequate features, adequate cultivation, adequate future. Her grandfather had arranged this marriage for political leverage, using her like a bargaining chip.
I won't live like this. I won't.
Fang Zheng was different. Talented, yes, but more than that—kind. He saw her as a person, not a stepping stone. When he smiled, it reached his eyes.
Mo Bei's smile never reached anywhere. Just a polite mask over emptiness.
She would end this engagement. Find a reason, any reason, that let her refuse without shaming her family.
And then she would pursue what she actually wanted.
Day 11. Morning practice.
I spar with Fang Zheng as promised. He's good—better than me legitimately. But I'm not trying to win. I'm planting seeds.
Between rounds, while we catch our breath: "The engagement ceremony yesterday was... interesting."
"Oh?" He's too polite to ask directly.
"Gu Yue Qing Shu. You know her?"
His expression shifts. Carefully neutral, but his heartbeat spikes. Great Sage tracks it.
"We've spoken a few times," Fang Zheng says. "She's accomplished."
"Very. I'm not sure I'm what she's looking for in a partner, though. She seems to value ambition. Drive." I pause. "Someone more like you, actually."
His face flushes. "I'm sure you're selling yourself short."
"No. Just being realistic." I pick up my practice blade. "Shall we continue?"
Day 12. Academy competition.
I throw the matches strategically. Win the first to show competence, lose the second badly, win the third on a technicality, lose the fourth to someone I should beat.
Final ranking: Twenty-third.
My father watches from the viewing stands. His disappointment is visible even from the arena floor.
Perfect.
After the matches, I make sure to mention—loudly enough for mutual acquaintances to hear—that I'm considering specializing in administrative Gu paths. Formation maintenance, resource management, boring but stable work.
The gossip spreads by evening.
"Probability shift detected: Qing Shu requesting dissolution has increased from 41% to 68.3%. Contributing factors: Host's demonstrated lack of ambition, public perception shift toward administrative role, contrast with Fang Zheng's combat performance (placed seventh in competition)."
Two days later, the formal request arrives.
GU YUE QING SHU
Qing Shu composed the letter carefully. "Incompatible cultivation philosophies" was vague enough to avoid insult while specific enough to seem legitimate.
Mo Bei had made it easy. His performance at the competition—mediocre at best—had embarrassed her family. His stated interest in administrative paths confirmed he had no real ambition.
She wasn't cruel. She didn't hate him. He was just... insufficient.
And Fang Zheng was everything Mo Bei wasn't.
She sent the letter and felt lighter than she had in weeks.
I receive the dissolution request while studying in the library. Read it once, set it aside.
"Dissolution request: Received. Recommended response: Gracious acceptance. Optimal outcome: Minimal family disappointment, maintained social standing, freedom from obligation."
I compose my reply in ten minutes. Polite, understanding, no hard feelings. My parents will be disappointed, but not destroyed. Manageable damage.
That evening, I watch from a dormitory window as Qing Shu approaches Fang Zheng in the training yard. Her smile is genuine. He's surprised, pleased. They talk for twenty minutes.
Great Sage catalogs the interaction. "Relationship formation: Fang Zheng and Qing Shu. Probability of romantic development: 83.7%. Strategic impact on host: Neutral to positive. Fang Zheng attachment to host strengthens through perceived support."
I feel nothing watching them. Just pieces moving on a board, following their nature.
My clone in Jade Moon Town sends fragmented awareness: Bai Clan merchant convoy passed through yesterday. Twenty wagons, armed guards. Heading toward border.
Small details. Building patterns.
Twelve days survived. Eighteen to go.
The marriage trap dissolved itself exactly as planned. One less complication. One less chain.
In this world, you survive by being useful or invisible. I'm learning to be both.
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