Disclaimer: Credit to Mo Xiang Tong Xiu for creating such wonderfully frustrating characters... particularly the gentle one with a bad habit of incriminating himself...
The clearing is littered with arrows, all sticking up out of the ground. Not a single one has hit the target.
"You're getting better."
"Shut up."
Although meant to be encouraging, his words prick his ego, making him bristle. Lately, everything he says makes Mu Qing want to run him through with the very arrows on the field. His jaw is sore, suppressing the frustration nipping at his patience.
Yet, if Xie Lian notices, he must not care. "Your arrows are more grouped. They're closer to the targets too. Now it's all a matter of timing."
Retrieving the arrows, he bites down on the long string of curses on his tongue.
He also hasn't commented on the bruises patterning his face, either. Mu Qing doesn't know if he should be grateful Xie Lian is keeping quiet about it. Mostly, he wants to know if Feng Xin is always this possessive concerning Xie Lian.
He thinks back to yesterday, remembering what Feng Xin had said. The three réncái choose disciples within the family— yet, Xie Lian chose a server who had been fired right before his eyes. Not to mention, school is eating up almost all his time. The fact that he is here at all is a miracle. He's also expecting a call from an employer soon; even when his mom gets out of the hospital, she'll be on crutches, unable to work, and there are the medical bills to consider.
As hard as it is to admit, Feng Xin had a point. It's not like he didn't have options. Even others outside of the clan might have been better candidates than Mu Qing. So is he stupid or just plain reckless?
"Focus." A pair of hands tug his head forward towards the target. "Ground yourself, and shoot."
The arrow flies steadily ahead, and for a moment, Mu Qing thinks it could make it. Though, it lands a few inches off.
"Not bad," Xie Lian praises. And he's right. But it is still a bitter pill to swallow.
"It could've been anyone, right?" The words burst out before he realizes. Helpless, he continues, "You're wasting your time. Find someone more experienced. Or do you grope everyone you meet, and that's why no one wants to shoot with you?"
"That— that was a misunderstanding," Xi Lian says, suddenly bashful. "I swore a vow of celibacy. I would never do that to anyone."
"Uh-huh."
"And to answer your question, I chose you because of your potential." As he says that, Mu Qing shoots another arrow, further off. He turns to Xie Lian with a pointed look. "You still need practice, but I believe in you."
"Humph."
"It doesn't hurt that you have a handsome face. You must attract a lot of attention."
Cue eyeroll. "It's things like that, you say, that makes me think it wasn't an accident."
He shoots again, missing— but closer.
"Is it true that I'm representing you?"
"Where'd you hear that?"
"I met Feng Xin. He called me your disciple." Again, a miss. "Is it true?"
A moment, then, "You have terrible aim."
"Shut up!"
"You release too quickly... Could it be—"
"Answer the damn question."
"... Yes." Xie Lian turns to him with a firm expression. Yet, his lips remain naturally upturned. He twitches with the sudden urge to smack him. "I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure if you would accept."
"Bullshit. You planned this."
"Yes, I did."
The abrupt confession throws him off. "This— you, you're... FUCK!"
He throws the bow to the floor. The bowstring snaps, slapping back. It might have hit him if Xie Lian hadn't pulled him away in time. Still, he shouts, "Let go!"
Xie Lian stumbles with the force of his push, though he remains composed. "Mu Qing, calm down."
"You could've chosen anyone else, so why bother me with this?!"
"I truly believe you have potential."
Liar.
"Stay, and let me teach you." Faced with Mu Qing's homicidal glare, he says, "Watching you struggle is a new experience. I have always been surrounded by people who, from birth, would become martial fighters. I take great delight in teaching you."
His gentle face tells no lies. Or, at least, so it seems.
Yet the sentiment gives him pause.
To watch him struggle, starting from nothing— delights him?
"Sadist," he mutters. Face burning, he turns his glare to the ground, gritting his teeth.
Xie Lian sighs. "Why do you insist on branding me a pervert?"
"Shut up!"
Xie looks at him contemplatively. Then, as though making a decision, he says, "Come with me."
Xie Lian brings Mu Qing to the Xin estate. It is a simple, traditional complex but also grand and imposing. His whole unit could fit in the courtyard alone— no, the whole apartment floor. A giant white peach tree grows in the center, bare now but sure to blossom soon with winter coming to an end. Groups of uniformed students loiter near the tree, noisy but bearing a tranquil countenance.
"You need space when you're training hot-headed children with swords," Xie Lian says, noting his poorly-concealed awe.
"Shut up."
Xie Lian bows his head, hiding a smile. "This is the Jiàn Dào residence. Up ahead is the Shè Dào."
The Jiàn Dào residence has lots of open space and the students speak freely amongst themselves, whereas the Shè Dào residence is quieter, smaller but with many buildings. Dojos, he realizes, as the twangs of bowstrings ring out in the open air. The students don't speak, at least not as loudly. Those he sees outside don't linger, moving surely to their next destination.
"I have always found the Shè Dào branch rather reserved," Xie Lian says. "You're sure to fit in."
They enter a kyudojo. Inside, a few students are poised with their bows. Their forms are strong and unwavering, not unlike sculptures. A twang sounds out, announcing an arrow hitting its mark. Their elegant precision is plain for anyone to see, even those indifferent to the martial arts. Though they don't compare to Feng Xin.
Mu Qing isn't sure whether they even heard them enter, though one boy turns at their approach.
"Guì Lian," he greets, bowing.
Mu Qing raises a brow, peering at Xie Lian. This narcissist, guì? Though at one point, he would have called him that as well.
"Yin Yu, meet Mu Qing."
His eyes take on a particular light as he looks at Mu Qing. "Hello, Guì Qing."
He frowns. "Don't call me that."
Yin Yu tilts his head, bemused. "You're his disciple, right? Though Guì Lian, I'm surprised you're teaching him archery."
It is strange, Mu Qing realizes. Xie Lian belongs to Jiàn Dào, so he should be learning swordsmanship. The three réncái are skilled in all three disciplines, but they belong to separate branches. Xie Lian, Jiàn Dào; Feng Xin, Shè Dào; Pei Ming, Quanfa. Naturally, wouldn't they train their disciples in their branch?
Though Xie Lian says, "I intend to teach him all the disciplines."
Mu Qing jerks, glaring at him dumbstruck. He can barely make time now as it is, and he wants him to learn swordplay and quanfa too? Especially considering how they met in the first place. Though Xie Lian is beaming, smiling gently, like he said nothing wrong. Whether he's lucky or unfortunate, he's unsure. Even Yin Yu is taken aback by the bold statement.
"Now, dear Yin Yu, would you watch him as he shoots?" Xin Lian turns to Mu Qing, ignoring the incredulity directed his way. "Yin Yu is a self-imposed manager of sorts, he helps the young archers develop their form."
"Ah, yes," Yin Yue says, heedful once more. "If I can be of help, then please, allow me."
Yin Yu brings Mu Qing forward. As per usual, he goes through the motions, this time almost flawless after all their practice. Though, when he shoots, it misses as per usual. He clenches his jaw, fighting hard to keep his expression blank.
"Why did you flinch?"
"What?"
Yin Yu comes forward and pushes down his shoulders. "Your shoulders shot up when you let go. You're tense and frustrated."
"So it's true," Xie Lian says behind him.
Yin Yu nods. "Target panic."
Glossary
Réncái — Translates to "expensive", "rare", "marvelous".
Kyodojo — A dojo for kyudo.