The next tale came the day after, at dinner time. Shizun had been busy the entire day from dawn to dusk interviewing all the students about their cultivation progress and work in the scholarly arts. He gave tips and advice on their studies, and asked about their families and how they were finding life on the peak. Binghe knew because he was one of the recipients of Shizun's attention with a short private interview; it was briefer than he'd wished for, but much longer than most. He'd jealously badgered Ning-shijie to find out how long others got to have a private talk for, and the gist of what they'd talked about. Unsurprisingly Shizun hadn't asked about his family, but had questioned him in above-average detail about his cultivation progress and his other studies, especially in sword fighting and monster identification.

It was only as the evening stars appeared in the darkening sky that Shizun returned to the bamboo cottage, looking ethereal in his jade-green robes which fluttered in a gentle breeze as he literally glided home, hovering a foot above the ground as he gracefully balanced on his sword, Xiu Ya. His hair was an ebony wave behind him, and a serene smile curved his soft lips into true beauty. As he stared at his Shizun's approach as discreetly as possible from the bamboo house, Binghe thought how it was adorable that Shizun seized every opportunity possible to fly around on his sword that he possibly could. Binghe's martial uncles had tried dissuading Shizun from flying as much as possible, fearing a fall if Without-A-Cure flared up at an inopportune and dangerous moment, but his wily Shizun was eager to find loopholes.

"Some dishes are cold now, Shizun," Binghe fretted, when his teacher had arrived, "but this disciple did his best to prepare those that would not suffer too much from waiting in case Shizun was busy late into the evening." He unstacked bamboo baskets of dumplings and removed porcelain cloches that were keeping other dishes' contents warm, and babbled anxiously about how he could warm things up to the perfect temperature, until his Shizun insisted he stop fussing.

"Binghe, truly there is no need! This master has had a very long day – with no lunch – assessing and assisting with students' character development uh… and cultivation and skills development, and has no wish to wait any longer for dinner. Your food is no doubt as wonderful as always, even if it is not piping hot."

With adroit movements of his chopsticks Shizun piled some choice treats into Binghe's bowl. "Here, you try some too. Binghe looks tired today too; rest and eat."

There was silence for a while, filled only with Shizun's tiny content hums as he ate, that Binghe treasured as proof of Shizun's appreciation for his cooking skills. Eventually, the meal was done and the dishes cleared away. Shizun seemed in no hurry for bed, however, and lingered over tea to tell another tale, despite the late hour and their mutual exhaustion.

"Once upon a time, there was a young hero named Achilles," his Shizun said. "He was the son of Thetis, an ocean spirit – some say she was a goddess – and a mortal king, whose name I unfortunately cannot recall, as he is not very important in the story. Any child of hers was destined to be mightier than his father, so none of the other gods dared to lie with her, and thus she had turned to a mortal king for uh… company."

His melodious voice as warm and inviting as a hot drink on a cold night, his face lit up by the soft golden candlelight in warm autumn tones. Binghe loved – loved! – his beautiful teacher in any light. The magical ice-cold light of the moon, the gentle touch of starlight that allowed only glimpses in the darkness, and the bright sun-kissed light of day. But his favourite of all was the flickering intimacy of candlelight; he got to see his Shizun as few others did, all comfortable and relaxed at home in the evenings. His impeccably correct posture more relaxed, his language less formal. He shed a layer – or even two – of his robes, and his beautiful hands were inclined to fuss at Binghe's soft hair given the slightest justification to do so.

"Shizun likes tales about princes and royalty," Binghe observed, watching Shizun's response carefully. He tried to look merely politely attentive to the story, and not like his Shizun's every twitch of expression was a mystery to treasure and solve.

"Aren't all the best tales about a handsome, noble young hero overcoming great adversity to triumph utterly in all his quests?" Shizun said, smiling and patting Binghe's hair.

Binghe smiled at the confirmation of a major theme in Shizun's tales, and the possible hint that his teacher thought he was handsome. "Is Thetis a half-demon with a fish tail like in the other story, Shizun?"

"No, Binghe, she looked like a beautiful human woman, forever young. Now, Thetis was unhappy at the thought of her too-mortal child dying, as all mortals must–"

"Except those who cultivate, Shizun!"

His teacher paused, a little thrown off his storytelling stride. "Well… uh… I suppose she didn't have faith in his ability to cultivate on his own. He was just a baby still, and his mother feared for him, so she devised a plan to protect him."

Binghe nodded, satisfied with that explanation of the flaw in the narrative. A mother, he knew from personal experience, would suffer much to protect her child, even one not born from her own body.

"Bit by bit, Thetis covered her son with ambrosia – a precious, longevity-boosting drink stolen from the gods' own halls – and covered her infant son with it, then night after night she placed him in the fire to slowly burn away his mortality."

"Is that a real remedy, Shizun?" Binghe asked, bright eyes intent.

"No. That is I… I don't believe so. I have never heard of it existing in thi… the world." His Shizun corrected himself halfway through, with an odd stumble over his words. "I have, however, heard a true tale of precious golden apples from… a similar story being used to restore the youth of wife num… a wife cursed with premature aging. So, it may exist, but who can say?"

"Does Shizun recall any more details about it, from the story? What book can this disciple find it in?"

It was a mysterious and frustrating thing – Qing Jing Peak's library had yet to yield any version of Shizun's tales. Guanyin was much spoken of, of course, but the version of the tale Shizun had told was almost unrecognisable compared to any written accounts of the historical princess' life and ascension. None of the other stories could be found at all – not even fragments.

"Hmm, I recall nothing especially useful. Ambrosia was either a food or a drink; I'm not quite sure which one, to be honest, but I think it was a liquid in the story. I think it was supposed to be sweet-smelling and delicious like honey. Strong; dangerous for ordinary mortals. And it was consumed on Mount Olympus by the gods, but I have never seen that mountain listed on any maps."

"This disciple thanks Shizun for the lesson and apologises for interrupting the story."

He would hunt for a copy of this tale and research ambrosia later; perhaps if it was real it might be a rare honey that could cure Shizun!

"It's alright, Binghe, your comments are welcome and in any case it's a short story this evening! Now, Achilles' mother had burnt away almost all of his mortality when one evening the boy's father, the king, caught his wife holding their son by the ankle, dangling him in a fireplace. He angrily ordered her to stop, fearing for his son's life. She, offended at his insult of her and her supreme efforts for their child, abandoned both her son and her husband in a fit of rage and returned to the ocean. Achilles was left with just one point of his skin untempered by the flames; a spot on his heel."

"Oh dear," Binghe said, chewing at his lip. "I suppose every man and beast must have a weak point. Still, at least it wasn't over his heart."

Shizun nodded. "Indeed, his mother protected him as much as she could from a distance, but no protection can ever be perfect or without flaw. As the years flew by, Achilles' mother was always protective of her son, even as he grew into a fine young warrior of peerless skill. When a great war was brewing, one that called many kings and princes to join in attacking the city of Troy due to a vow they'd all made, Thetis sought to hide her son away from strife and possible death on the battlefield. She spirited him away from his father and had him secretly fostered at another king's court, but thinking that insufficient, she also disguised Achilles in a maiden's robes so that no-one could possibly recognise him, even if they looked for him at the right court."

"Was he veiled, like Liu Mingyan?" Binghe asked.

"I don't think so, I think he was just… very pretty. No-one could tell just from looking that he was secretly a man; his mother's disguise was too good," his Shizun emphasised.

"He was pretty?" Binghe asked, mentally noting his Shizun's stress on the final sentence, but distracted by his word choice.

"Men can be pretty," his Shizun said, sounding defensive. "Perhaps he looked a little like Liu Qingge; in different robes he could probably pass as a woman."

"Am I pretty, Shizun?" Binghe whined, sick with jealousy. He turned his face up to his teacher, deliberately widening his eyes to look as cute as possible.

"You are very handsome and all the young women will flock to you soon!" his Shizun promised him, patting him on the head. "You may find it harder to pass as a woman than Liu Qingge would, but that's not a bad thing, Binghe!"

"Shizun thinks I am handsome? Is this one better-looking than Liu Qingge?" Binghe demanded, vinegar-envy making his guts churn with anxiety.

Liu-shishu's hungry eyes were obvious to almost everyone except Shizun… but if his teacher reciprocated that interest he could lose the chance to win Shizun for himself forever!

"Ah, what will I do with you!" his teacher said, bopping him on the head with a folded-up fan. "No-one can compare to Binghe, who is the most handsome there is. Spare instead a merciful thought for your poor shishu who no doubt grew up having to fight twice as fiercely as any other warrior to be taken seriously, with his sweet looks. Now, that is too much unrelated chatter so settle down and attend to my tale, please!"

'Binghe is the most handsome there is', Binghe's thoughts echoed contentedly, as his cheeks flushed pink. "Yes, Shizun."

"Now, Achilles hid amongst the daughters of the foreign king and the court's other maidens for months or maybe years," his Shizun said, determinedly returning to his tale, "until the wily warrior-king Odysseus came in search of him, for a seer had divined that the battle for Troy would not be won without Achilles' aid.

"Cunning King Odysseus disguised himself as a wandering peddler and brought jewels and silks and perfumes to sell to the maidens, and amongst his goods he also included a shield and a spear. Then, while he was busy hawking his wares to the women, he arranged for a trumpet alarm to be sounded. While the women fled in panic at the trumpet's warning of invaders, Achilles snatched up the spear and shield in preparation for battle, his fervour for battle ruining his disguise in a single instant.

"His mild appearance would shield him no longer, and his true nature as a warrior was known to Odysseus, and thus to all. He could no longer live a soft, hidden life as a delicate flower; he was doomed to battle from that moment on, revealed as a demi-god and a warrior destined for a life of strife. And eventually after much fighting in the Trojan War he died in battle at the gates, as was his fate, from an arrow wound to his vulnerable heel shot by Prince Paris."

Binghe waited patiently, not wanting to interrupt, until it became increasingly obvious that it might in fact be the end of the story. "Is that all, Shizun? Tonight's tale ended rather… abruptly. What happened to Achilles in the war? It doesn't sound like he was as great a warrior as he was fated to be."

Shen Qingqiu hesitated. "Well, I mostly wanted to tell you the start of his tale as the most important thing for Binghe to hear. The tale of the Trojan War is a true epic; immensely long and complicated with more details about more people than this master can possibly remember. I am sure Achilles won many epic battles, but I remember only one of them in any detail."

"This one would like to hear that part of the tale too. Are there any useful lessons in the rest of the story of Achilles that might teach this disciple something important?" Binghe checked, not wanting their night together to end so soon.

"Mn," his Shizun hummed, taking a drink of tea as he thought for a while. "Perhaps, let me ponder it a while. But do give the most weight to the first part, hm?"

Binghe promised to do so, and after a while to gather his thoughts and a pause for fresh tea and some red bean cakes, Shizun continued Achilles' tale.

"Well, as I said, I only remember parts of the rest of the tale, but I shall do my best to cover the major points. Now, Achilles fought bravely at Troy in many battles, defeating a multitude of warriors and taking no injuries. It was a long war and it went on for a decade in total, I believe. One day in the middle of the war, the general, King Agamemnon, insisted that Achilles' concubine Briseis be handed over to himself, to make up for a woman of his own that he'd lost when her father had insisted she be returned to her family."

"A dishonourable general to treat a favoured warrior and his woman so," Binghe scowled, "and to claim a woman of his own without the blessing of her family, in the first place! Is this part of the story important, Shizun?"

"Hm, can I say…? Yes. That is, no, it is not particularly… interesting," his Shizun answered, eyes flicking briefly to the side. "This part is just giving context for what comes next."

Was he checking if his curse allowed him to speak of which parts of the story are most important to attend to? Binghe wondered. Truly it was a strange curse. Binghe brushed a hand against the pouch at his waist, where something was hidden. When Shizun's story was done tonight and they were ready to retire he'd see what might be done about dealing with the strange curse on his teacher.

"Achilles was outraged at the dishonour his general had shown him, so he prayed to his mother to intercede with the gods to bless their enemies in battle rather than their own side. Every day Achilles sulked in his tent, refusing to come out and fight no matter how the enemy pressed their forces. Every day the battle lines drew further back to the ocean's shore, until it looked like they might have to retreat on their ships to sail back home in shameful defeat. With the diviners and seers saying the gods were against them if Achilles would not fight for them, their whole army had lost heart. Cunning King Odysseus promised to shower Achilles with gifts if he would fight for them again, and that he would ensure that Briseis would be returned to him, but Achilles cared not for his promises."

"I suppose his anger was over the dishonour then, and not the concubine herself," Binghe mused. "Also, he never truly wanted to fight in the first place, did he?"

"Perhaps he did not want to join the war, but it was his fate to do so," his Shizun sighed. "Secretly, he was a warrior at heart, and as a prince he was bound by his father's vow to fight at Troy. Once he was discovered by Odysseus, what he wanted to do was, in the end, irrelevant. To Troy he must go."

Binghe nodded, mentally noting the theme of struggling against fate continued in this story too. He'd been learning to read his Shizun's thin face whenever he told his special tales, and the stress he placed on certain words. This part seemed especially important to Shizun.

"Achilles' best friend, Patroclus, was a brave young man who could not bear to see their army so dispirited and on the point of defeat. When he could not cheer Achilles into good humour or badger him into returning to the battlefield, he secretly stole Achilles' armour and weapons and went out to fight in Achilles' place. He rallied the troops who were thrilled to believe Achilles was leading them in battle again. They drove their enemy back greatly in glorious triumph, however, in the end, Patroclus pushed too far. Separated from the rest of the warriors, he was surrounded and was slain by Prince Hector of Troy."

"A brave death," Binghe murmured.

"Achilles was inconsolable at the loss of his friend. Driven mad with rage he pleaded with his mother for new arms and armour forged by the god of smiths himself," his teacher narrated, eyes glittering as he leant forward for this part of the story. "Only the most powerful of swords and the best armour would do for the warrior prince!"

Binghe pondered the importance of this part of the tale that his Shizun was trying to hint at. Ariel's dagger was a magical weapon gifted to her by the octopus demon, and the Green Warrior's axe was likewise a cultivation weapon. This made three stories with such elements. Had Shizun been afflicted when he'd picked up a cursed weapon on one of his adventures? He would search the bamboo house for hidden weapons tomorrow, if he still needed to.

"Newly armed and armoured, Achilles abandoned his tent and wreaked havoc across the battlefield. Men were cut down before him like stalks of grain, and even a river god who joined the battle was slain without hesitation. There was of course one man Achilles sought above all others, Prince Hector, who had killed his lover. Achilles would not rest until he was slain."

"Prince Hector killed Briseis too?" Binghe checked.

His Shizun froze. His gaze wasn't absent, he was just embarrassed, and he swiftly unfurled his fan with a snap of his wrist to hide his face.

He stumbled over an explanation. "Ah. No. I was referring to Patroclus."

"You said he was a friend, Shizun?"

His teacher's fan fluttered swiftly. "Well, storytellers and historians argue over the nature of their relationship. The story is the same told either way, and whether Patroclus was Achille's friend or uh, lover, he could not take Achilles' fated role from him, and death was the price he paid for trying."

Binghe paused, intrigued and distracted. "This is the second tale Shizun has told with cut-sleeves in it."

His Shizun spluttered. "No it's not! It's the first! And barely that."

"What of the Green Warrior, Shizun? He and Gawain kissed. Six times, by my count."

"Well that… that's just… he had to do that, he… they were honour-bound," his Shizun answered nervously.

"Mn," Binghe murmured. Gawain's honour hadn't bound him so tightly when it had come to keeping the sash. And he hadn't been poisoned by an aphrodisiac or the intoxicating pollen of a spring-time flower. Gawain must have simply wanted to kiss the tall, handsome warrior.

"Does Shizun think it was… is… wrong, then? For a man to desire to kiss another man?" he asked shyly.

"No, there's nothing wrong with that in theory," his Shizun said with an embarrassed cough, his fan continuing its nervous dance. "If Binghe should meet a woman who desires another woman, or a man who favours men, this Shizun hopes he will look upon them kindly and without judgement. And that Binghe will not, for example, pressure a woman into thinking she can be cured from her love for other women by being bedded and wedded by the right man. The standard for selecting your partners should be enthusiastic, fully informed, and clear-headed consent! Not pollen-induced desire! And certainly not pressuring an unwilling partner into overcoming their reluctance or outright disinterest! And that goes double for sworn virgin nuns, grieving widows, newly orphaned teenage girls, or any women whose hearts are only stirred by other women!"

His Shizun scowled. "No 'heavenly pillar' is that magical! Hah! As if those wives even desired such a thing in the first place, when they were previously either happy in each other's arms, disinterested and busy with their own lives, or contentedly asexual! It's insulting to women, is what it is. Terrible writing! A stupid pen writes stupid words!"

Is Shizun thinking of one of those trashy romance novels he thinks I haven't spotted him reading, hidden behind the cover of a cultivation manual? Binghe thought, deeply amused. "This disciple promises to never act so shamelessly; he is not some scoundrel from a yellow book."

Perhaps noting Binghe's indulgent smile, his Shizun harrumphed, his cheeks flushed red. "No. Obviously not. Well, enough of that. Remember my advice, that is all. Uh… does Binghe recall where I was up to in Achilles' story?"

"His lover Patroclus was dead, and Achilles wanted vengeance on Prince Hector."

"Yes! So, eventually he chased Prince Hector down on the battlefield, and mortally wounded him. Just before he died, the prince pleaded that when he passed away that Achilles would bear his body to the gates of Troy so that his parents might give him an honourable funeral. But after he'd killed Hector, Achilles was still mad with rage and his lust for vengeance was still unabated. He tied Hector's body behind his chariot and dragged it around the city walls for days until it was a battered, unrecognisable lump of flesh and bones."

His Shizun sighed, a sad look in his eyes. "Vengeance is a terrible thing sometimes, Binghe. Anyway, that's all the story I remember. There was another fight at some point where Prince Paris, the instigator of the whole war, who was Hector's brother, killed Achilles with an arrow to his heel. And the Trojans were eventually defeated with a wily stratagem of Odysseus' winning the day. But that's another story, and not one this master plans on telling. So… that's the end of this tale."

Binghe sat and thought, drinking his now-lukewarm tea. "Am I like Achilles in your tale today, Shizun?"

"Mn, perhaps."

It was as good as a yes, and exactly what Binghe had suspected. However, Shizun's role was less clear.

"Who in the tale reminds you most of yourself, Shizun?"

His teacher sighed. "The scum villain in the tale, I suppose – Prince Hector."

Binghe blinked. That character hadn't even been a consideration! "I was trying to decide if you were most like Achilles' caring mother, or his friend Patroclus!"

With a splutter, Shizun tapped him rebukingly on the head with his fan. "Patroclus! Ai! What nonsense are you going on about?! Patroclus! Though I suppose perhaps in some ways regarding trying to take…"

His Shizun froze, eyes distant for a moment. "Enough. Time for bed." He rose from the table, and Binghe stood up too.

"One moment, Shizun," he said, his voice firm.

From the pouch at his waist Binghe drew out a talisman. A curse-breaking seal, researched extensively over the past week and a bit, and frantically refined and finished after a burst of inspiration last night. He slapped it on his teacher's forehead, who thankfully stood still long enough for Binghe to activate it, all startled and shocked. The sigils on the paper glowed for only a brief second, then faded almost immediately. Binghe sighed in disappointment; that wasn't the dramatic reaction he'd hoped for.

"Nothing. This disciple has failed."

Shen Qingqiu peeled the paper seal off his forehead and looked between it and Binghe. "What is this?"

"A curse-breaking seal," Binghe murmured, bowing apologetically. "One that can remove powerful curses on the tongue and throat. This lowly, unworthy disciple hoped to cure Shizun's muteness. This one feared that Shizun's curse might not only stop him speaking of it but might also force him to resist seeking a cure. Please, Shizun, this disciple only wished to help! But… my skills are too low. I will not give up, however! Trust this foolish disciple to keep trying to help you, Shizun."

His Shizun nodded slowly. "Binghe is… thoughtful. I cannot fault your logic. However, I cannot… You cannot help this master. I only desire for you to listen, and understand what you can… There will come a time when I hope these tales will all make sense… it will be clear one day. I hope. Just listen and remember. And… forgive me."

His eyes kept flicking to the side, Binghe noticed. His curse, whatever it was, prevented him from speaking of it, but Shizun was bravely struggling to share what he could. His Shizun was wincing now, as if something caused him pain. Perhaps it had been angered by Binghe's attempts to dispel it, or by his Shizun's attempts to reveal what he could.

"Stop, do not trouble yourself to explain, master. This one knows you cannot speak of it," Binghe reassured.

With another sigh his Shizun relented. "The odd herbal tea you served me some time ago… you said it was a new blend you wanted me to try. What was it?" his teacher asked, slow and suspicious.

"White Snowflower Cleansing Tea," Binghe admitted, abashed. "In case Shizun was poisoned with something made with Mother-in-Law's Tongue or Purple–"

"Purple Bloom of Silence," his Shizun finished. "Hmm. Your theory was again sound for the evidence at hand, but incorrect."

"Please forgive this lowly one," Binghe pleaded.

"Of course! That was never in question," Shizun promised, patting his head. "Binghe acted with the best of motives and a kind heart. This master is only thankful for your efforts, not at all angry or disappointed."

"Shizun will keep telling this Emperor stories?" he begged. "This one loved tonight's tale. Are there more from the book or land this tale is from?"

He would particularly like to hear any more clues to the possible existence of ambrosia.

"This master already has another one from the same land in mind," Shizun promised.

-000-

Binghe transcribed the tale that evening, but there were few new notes to add. Ongoing themes remained much the same, with a couple of additions.

New ongoing themes: magical weapons (3 out of 5 stories), cut sleeves (2 out of 5 stories), surviving mortal blows (3 out of 5 stories), magical cures for the incurable/magical prevention of the unstoppable (4 out of 5 stories).

Unfortunately, he was feeling more confident about the theme of magical remedies to heal or prevent harm than he was about cut sleeves, given how his Shizun explicitly mentioned he hadn't viewed it as a major theme.

Swirling some more ink on his brush, he added one last newly identified theme, that his Shizun very clearly had identified with in multiple stories, now that he stopped to think about it.

Shizun-character fearing/facing death (5 out of 5 stories).

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Both Hector and Patroclus. Guanyin's father. Scheherazade. The Green Warrior – who had his head chopped off. Even the prince in Ariel's tale faced death twice – once when he almost drowned, and another time when Ariel refused to kill him to save herself. And if Shizun was supposed to be Ariel, well, she'd died in the end from her ill-fated bargain with the octopus-demon.

I will save Shizun! he vowed to himself.

-000-
"A stupid pen writes stupid words" – Shen Yuan's last words (and accidental isekai activation code), according to a presumably more literal fan translation.