Legend of The Young Master

Chapter 201: Bath

Wuyi didn't wake until late afternoon. He awoke in the comfort of his own room, although it felt odd. Air was moving around him. Someone had fixed blankets and an old silk tapestry over a hole the size of a cart. A hole in the wall that went right through to the outside air. His little veranda was gone, too.

He got his feet on the floor, and Dong had his clothes laid out neatly on a wooden stand, and long silk boots over his arm, clean and black. His Qi warrior's belt was polished, shining like something mystical.

"The Pavilion Mistress has invited you to dinner," Dong said. "Master Jia is at his exercises."

Wuyi groaned as his weight came on his thighs and hips, and just for a moment, he had a flash of what old age might be like.

"The pavilion elders have brought clothes for you," Dong said. He pointed to a basket. "New, clean, and pressed. Robes. Trousers. Two pairs of black silk hose." Dong pointed at the basket.

Wuyi ran his hands over a robe. The stitches were neat, very small, almost perfectly even but not quite, almost a pattern. The seamstress had used undyed thread on the glorious new white of the silk – so confident in her skills that the very slight contrast was itself a decoration. A very subtle declaration of skill. Subtle, like the power with which she'd imbued the garments.

He picked up the robe. They had put some effort into it; it was special – special silver, black gold, the color of dignity. There were some heavenly chants added to the cloth. The robe didn't burn him, nor did he expect it to.

Dong interrupted his reverie. "Wine? Hot tea?" he asked. He looked at the floor. "Tea is good," he mumbled.

"Tea. And I'll wear these new things, but with my black cloak, Dong." He sighed.

"Everything is black, young master," said Dong.

"Black is us."

"Any word on the wounded? How's Baijian?" He felt the crisp cleanness of the new robe. "I'll have a bath before I dress, if you can arrange it."

Dong nodded at the challenge. "In a moment." He vanished. Reappeared. "Master Baijian is up and about. And Master Yun Ming, as well."

Wuyi heard the boy's footsteps, running. The boy made him smile. Made him feel old. He stripped out of his clothes and armour. He had had them on for – hmm, two days now, without rest?

The robe was damp and warm and smelled bad. Not like sweat, but like old blood. There was a lot of blood in it; most of the blood was dark, most of it was from the demonics he had killed, some of it was his. The demonic blood had entered through cracks in his Qi armor. Wuyi shivered at the thought of demonic blood infecting him.

But then he realized his statues had absorbed all the Qi in the demonic blood the moment it touched his body, so it was just normal blood.

He had a mirror, somewhere in his belongings. Jia had unpacked his chest and his travel pack and the satchel he stored in the carriages – he rooted around, vaguely aware that evening was coming, and he wasn't armed. He found his polished bronze mirror in its silk-lined case, and unfolded it from its intricately carved wooden handle. Looked in the mirror.

He'd forgotten the wound he'd taken last night. He had a long crease down the left side of his face which was still sweating a little blood. As soon as he looked at it, it started to hurt. It didn't look bad. It merely hurt.

He shook his head. Felt fuzzy with post-combat shock, and the shock of what he'd just seen in the mirror. He tried to look at the wound in his right shoulder. It was a dull ache, and he couldn't locate it, despite the fact that his clothes were soaked in blood. A bit more of a shock, that. Stiff with blood would be more accurate.

He peeled his leg armors off. They were stuck to his legs with blood and sweat. He stank. Dong reappeared. "The bath is on its way, Master. I told Master Jia and Master Zhen you were awake."

Zhen came through the door and sniffed. Only in his bathrobe, Wuyi looked funny but he still had authority. "Dong, take my Qi armor out and air it. Give my robes to the laundress and ask her respectfully if they can be saved."

Zhen was holding one of the new headbands. "This is fine work. As good as what you would find at the royal court." He looked at Dong.

"The pavilion elders..." Dong shrugged. "She told me what Young Master had ordered of her. Did I do something wrong?"

Wuyi shook his head,"Pay the pavilion elders for clothes I had ordered these separately for myself."

Zhen smiled. "I'll go and pay her. And order my own," he said. "You are commanded to dinner with the Pavilion Mistress," Zhen went on. "As are a number of other worthies. Best dress well and try to behave yourself."

Wuyi rolled his eyes. After a pause, he said, "How bad is the wound on my back?"

Zhen looked at the back of his shoulder. "Healed," he said with professional finality.

Dong had the Qi robe over his arm. Wuyi snatched at it and held it up. The right arm had a slash that ran from just above the underarm voider of scale armor all the way down to the top of the underarm seam.

Zhen gave a sharp noise like a dog's bark. "One of the Demons tagged me." Wuyi shrugged. "I slept... what a sleep!" Suddenly he picked up the cup by his bedside.

"The pretty novice gave me a cordial I was to give you," Dong said. He cowered a little.

Wuyi found his coin pouch, a small miracle all by itself, and extracted a silver liang. He snapped it across the room to young Dong, who scooped it out of the air. "I think I owe you a debt of thanks, young Dong," he said. "Now – bath." He scratched himself.

Out in the courtyard, he could see that there were men with swords and small shields, practicing. He walked across the room, and peeled back a corner of the silk screen to gaze out over the fields, the sheepfolds, and the smoking ruin of Lower Town.

"Flying Serpents?" he asked. He was still unbelievably tired.

"Been pounding us with rocks all day," Zhen said cheerfully. "Gave Xianyu Ma the fright of his life. Ballista is gone."

"Our enemy moving his stone throwers again," Wuyi said. "No – he's having boglins dig a new mound, but the stone throwers are still safely out of range."

"I need to see Baijian, if he's up to it. With the day's reports.."

Then he squeaked and ripped the coverlet off the bed as two farm girls appeared in the doorway with a tub of steaming herbal bath water. They noticed Wuyi was wearing nothing but his bathrobes.

"Coo!" said the dark-haired one. "Nothing I ain't seen before." She giggled, though, and the other girl blushed, and then they were gone. But the water wasn't gone.

"I'll wash myself, if you don't mind," he told Zhen.

Zhen nodded. "You're too old to be bathed." He counted the clothes in the basket. "I'll just go pay the pavilion elders, eh? And fetch Baijian."

"Thanks, Zhen," said Wuyi. The water was hot – nearly boiling hot. He got in anyway, hoping to scald some of the dirt and worse away. Wuyi was sure there was something crawling over him.

He had just immersed his torso slowly when there was a stir behind him.

"Baijian?" he called.

"No," replied Xilai.

Wuyi wriggled. The herbal water seemed to burn everywhere he had abrasions, cuts, and sores. So pretty much everywhere. He realized that his fragrant herbal wash, a mixture of ground herbs and oils, was in his silk travel bag, the alternative he used for soap in this world.

Xilai came across the room. "You are stronger," he said. "I saw you last night. Fast and strong."

"I do your exercises every day," Wuyi admitted. "And as you said, I try to do everything I can by the arts." He shrugged, and the water felt wonderful. "When he lets me."

"Our adversary?" Xilai nodded.

"He's camped outside my conscious space. But he can't do much. I need Qi.". Wuyi needed fragrant herbal wash did not want to get out of the bath but at the same time, he did not want to waste his Qi. Wuyi focused his mind all the way to the center of the fort, thirty paces through rock. He could feel the Pure Qi there.

He reached out, touched it, took a sip. Then he went to the chamber and activated a small chant, touching the wall.

The herbal wash rose in ari, crossed the room, and fell into the bath with a splash. "Sigh," said Wuyi. It was not his herbal wash, but his small knife.

Wuyi looked at Xilai, "Could you get me my herbal wash?"

Xilai grinned. "Herbal wash? Is it fragrant?"

"Yes," said Wuyi.

"Still, you are much improved. I know you were well trained, you just have to be less secretive." He shrugged. "An easy thing for me to say." He picked up the herbal wash and then held it out of reach.