The Mandate of Heaven

by kaoart

The Avatar stood on a tall hill, looking at the gate of Ba Sing Se slowly being opened. Armies poured out of the gap, with endless soldiers and steeds readied to march upon the corpse of a fractured realm. If a divided Earth Kingdom must bleed to rectify the mistakes of a nation torn asunder, so be it.

45. Silver Spoon

The days had passed swiftly, each one slipping away like sand through her fingers. Mayumi had meticulously arranged everything with Grandma Jin beforehand and now stood before the siheyuan. Even to herself, it seemed almost surreal that this reclusive scholar had entertained her borderline audacious proposal. Whether he had agreed to preserve personal reputation by hiring her or driven by more enigmatic motive, at the very least, it afforded her sister the invaluable opportunity to study under a distinguished scholar.

Curiously, on her journey from the Lower Ring, she had encountered the Te patriarch. Having been provoked into a challenge by Shan, now the city's esteemed Zhuangyuan, it was no surprise that the venerable lord wished to defend his family's honor. The tantalizing incentive of refining Shan's eight-legged essay had proven irresistible. Peasants and noble scions alike vied to showcase their literary acumen, yet this ludicrous gambit from a proud scholar had greatly inconvenienced Lord Te.

Despite his household retainer's frantic attempts to obtain a copy of the essay, publicly displayed and drawing eager crowds, the sheer impeccability of Shan's composition had thus far deterred any contenders from claiming the reward. As overconfident as the White Scholar may be, his undisputed position as the first-ranked scholar in the empire's most grueling examination already placed him among the intellectual elite of the continent.

Yet, Mayumi remained skeptical. She had personally examined a copy of his essay, mounted on a guarded wooden board in the Upper Ring. While acknowledging its masterful rhetoric in addressing the Earth Kingdom's present tribulations, she was unconvinced of its perfection.

Even near perfection is still not perfection.

From personal experience as the village chief's eldest daughter, she understood the nuanced treatment afforded to those of esteemed lineage or position. Whether from the locals of Kyoshi Island or passing merchants, there had always been an unspoken incentive to remain in the good graces of Matron Akahana's household, ensuring that grievances were rarely voiced outright.

The same logic surely applied to a grand city such as this. Shan, now a recognized a Zhuangyuan, would naturally ascend through the ranks, presented with ample opportunities to embed himself among the city's most influential figures. Why would anyone dare to publicly challenge him? Apart from a few ambitious commoners seeking the reward, no noble family in their right mind would risk becoming his adversary. More tellingly, the powerful patriarchs of the Upper Ring had only begun acknowledging this erstwhile calligraphy peddler's existence the moment a political marriage became an enticing prospect.

Lord Te is however different. His pride forbade him from retreating from Shan's brazen challenge, even if doing so might tarnish the Te clan's reputation in the long run. Yet, unlike the sycophantic elders desperately scheming to betroth their expendable daughters to the White Scholar, the old lord's defiance commanded a certain respect.

Mayumi paused, recalling Shan's dismissive attitude toward a father's flawed yet sincere affection for his child. While it was common knowledge that noble families regarded daughters as mere instruments for political leverage, Lord Te's defiance of convention was an unexpected anomaly. He had gone so far as to create a spectacle to safeguard Lady Te's honor.

She clenched all fingers around her belongings, unease creeping into her thoughts. Had she erred in entrusting her sister's future to such an ambitious man? After all, history was rife with tyrannical rulers molded by mentors whose teachings veered perilously from the humane ideals cherished by the common people.

The doors groaned open, their unrestrained creaking grating against her ears. The noise vexed the young woman in the apron, who instinctively wished to tear them down and replace them anew.

Standing in the doorway is the man himself, Shan, the newest Zhuangyuan of the city's most arduous civil service examination, the scholar whom the Upper Ring's aristocratic families is now desperate to claim as one of their own. Having secured both unparalleled prestige and the humiliation of the Te clan, his rise seemed inexorable.

For Mayumi, still grappling with the intricate politics of Ba Sing Se, it was disconcerting to witness firsthand how a mere scholar could amass such influence. It is the kind of power she had only read about in history books. Thus, no one would dare harm him despite the physical frailty.

"I see that you have arrived as scheduled," Shan remarked.

Until now, she had rarely seen anything beyond his carefully composed and impassive visage. Not a flicker of joy adorned his expression, even after achieving a distinction that only a handful in history had attained. Yet, regardless of his muted demeanor, Mayumi's present concern is her transition into this new occupation.

She offered a slight bow, determined not to betray any uncertainty. Fully aware of the importance in guarding her true identity.

She is Takeko, a former traveling theater performer who had ventured across distant lands. In Ba Sing Se, she sought employment to support her younger sister, Yuko, who now studies at the city's prestigious university.

"I do pity your sister," Shan said unexpectedly. "Many covet the chance to study at a renowned institution, believing it a gateway to success merely because they have been told so."

Unsure of how to respond, Mayumi bowed again. Shan turned and walked toward the courtyard, and she followed, stepping carefully over the wooden threshold that separated the residence from the outside world. As always, the oppressive silence of the courtyard unsettled her. But then again, it is in a scholar's best interest to maintain an environment conducive to undisturbed study.

"Young Master Shan, I hope you don't mind me asking, but where is everyone else?" Mayumi inquired genuinely. The eerie solitude was disconcerting. But for a fleeting moment, she caught what seemed to be a cold, scrutinizing glare before the scholar swiftly resumed his usual impassivity.

"There is no need to address me in such a manner," he replied, deftly evading her question.

She followed him in silence until they reached the western chamber. Shan produced an old key and unlatched the door, the lock's rusted hinges protesting as it swung open. The chamber is thick with dust, cobwebs draping its corners and air heavy with neglect. Within lay little more than a broken table and a few chairs, some wooden legs missing. As for the rather dim lighting, further obscured by the towering city walls, it casts long sullen shadows across the space.

"This will be your living quarters," Shan declared. "You may use it as you see fit."

Mayumi surveyed the forsaken room. It had seen better days. The disorder suggested that Shan had not been the original owner of this house. If he had any sentiment for this Upper Ring dwelling, he would have at least made an effort to restore it.

In a corner, she spotted a suitable space to place her belongings. A weathered broom also leaned against the wall, but when she attempted to use it, the shaft snapped in two.

"Apologies, the wood is old," she said calmly. As a trained warrior adept in wielding blades, she had perhaps applied more force than necessary.

After setting down her sack, within which lay her concealed equipment pretending to be mere stage props, Shan beckoned for her attention once more. This time, he led her toward the siheyuan's northern chamber, the grandest structure that lies directly opposite of the entrance. Unlike the western quarters, this is clearly his private domain, distinguished by its ornate double doors and elaborately crafted windows. Even the small stone stairs they ascended served as a subtle elevation of his status within the residence.

Upon entering, she could not help but marvel. His reputation as a scholar extended beyond politics and literature, as shown in his collection of exquisite paper umbrellas displayed along the walls, each one fine enough to stir envy among the elite. Yet, her gaze drifted to something far more compelling.

The room was divided into two sections. On the left, an elegant workspace dominated the space, akin to a scholar's sanctuary.

At its heart stood an antique wooden table and chair, their craftsmanship superior to anything she saw back home. Furniture was fashioned from pure rosewood, a luxury only the affluent could afford. Intricate carvings adorned its surface, each symbol representing one of the four elements. Even the legs bore swirling cloud motifs, curving so masterfully they seemed to float like mist.

It was undeniably the domain of a man who commanded power not with weapons, but with words and ink, which in her eyes are far more important than expensive furniture.

The scholar's craft spans myriad pursuits within high society, and Shan appears to have mastered many. Adorning the walls are exquisite array of inkbrush paintings, poetry, and calligraphy, each an unfinished masterpiece. Amongst the collection, he seems to have a penchant of mountains and other sceneries, untainted by buildings and people. Looking at them, Mayumi tries not to be too engrossed.

"As you are likely already aware, I do not take kindly to my work being defiled," Shan cautioned, walking behind the table. "My clients would be most displeased if their commissions bore an unintended blemish from an untrained hand. Thus, I trust you will have the sense to keep your distance from my projects."

Such territorial possessiveness is well justified, given the sheer skill evident in his work. Mayumi then cast a glance at an unfinished calligraphy piece resting on Shan's desk, making a mental note of the ink container's precarious placement to avoid any unfortunate mishaps. While doing so, her gaze lingered upon the newest inscription, its characters ensnaring her attention. The words were incomplete, yet even their fragmented syllables carried an inherent elegance, each stroke a marked with precision, each curve a flourish of intent. Like ink paintings, the style was succinct yet evocative. A scholar's defining prowess lies in the art of writing, but calligraphy is more than mere script, it is a marriage of visual splendor and literary profundity. Each brushstroke breathes life into paper, capturing motion, rhythm, and the ephemeral passage of time itself. To master this discipline is to command a skill revered across generations, understanding that a single sheet of seemingly worthless parchment could be transformed into a sought-after treasure.

With reluctance, she turned away from this corner of the home, following Shan as he led her toward the right side of the dwelling, his private quarters. This space bore a far more personal character. The bed was positioned in strict adherence to Feng Shui, placed away from the window to preserve harmony. Antique wooden chests stood in solemn rows, their surfaces polished with age. Yet what seized Mayumi's attention was the striking presence of the green silk robe issued by Earth Sage Zhu Xi, meticulously displayed upon a wooden mannequin. Atop its head rested the futou, with design specifically used in Ba Sing Se, serving as a symbol of Shan's esteemed Zhuangyuan status.

She found herself comparing that headpiece to the Kyoshi Warrior's golden headdress, a different yet equally weighty emblem of accomplishment. Although her own sister chose to delay wearing a golden headdress, it does not diminish the journey that Satchiko completed so far.

"If you must tend to this area, I expect nothing more than superficial cleaning. That is all I require of you." Shan stepped forward to inspect the futou, but his expression revealed no satisfaction in his achievement.

Mayumi's attention drifted instead to a lone guzheng resting near the bed, its lacquered surface worn with time. The instrument bore a striking resemblance to those found on Kyoshi Island, save for the differing number of strings.

"I wasn't aware you are a musician as well," she remarked, noting the evident age of the zither, the only object in the room that showed clear signs of use.

Shan offered no response regarding his musical inclinations, merely glancing at the instrument before making it implicitly clear she is not to lay a hand on it.

Without lingering, the White Scholar led her back outside, concluding the tour by gesturing toward the two smaller buildings near the entrance. One is a storage room, the other a kitchen. Yet a question pressed at the back of Mayumi's mind, one she did not voice.

Why wasn't she assigned to live there?

A traditional siheyuan usually followed a strict hierarchical arrangement in its living quarters. According to the conservative customs of the Earth Kingdom, the northern chamber, which receives the most sunlight, is reserved for the head of the household and their spouse. The eastern and western wings, slightly dimmer, are designated for lower-ranking family members or esteemed guests. Servants on the other hand, are relegated to the small southern chambers, nearest the entrance where sunlight are scant. If Shan occupied the northern chamber, that could only mean one thing, his parents are absent. No siblings, no extended family. He is the sole master of this household.

Yet, even more strangely, there had been no other servants or retainers here. A residence of this scale demands maintenance, yet the algae-coated pond and the slightly overgrown grass spoke for themselves.

Shan came to a halt, his tone firm. "There is one rule, one bottom line that you must remember."

Mayumi met his gaze, noting the uncharacteristic gravity in his voice.

"You may clumsily spill ink upon my projects. You may, through carelessness, damage my possessions beyond repair. But under no circumstances are you to set foot inside that room." He gestured toward the eastern chamber, the building directly opposite the living quarters he had assigned to her. There is nothing outwardly remarkable about it. Just another structure, another part of the siheyuan.

For the sake of her sister's scholarly prospects, it would be unwise to test his patience.

"I understand, Shan," Mayumi replied, hoping her compliance would serve as a foundation of trust between them. "I assure you, I will not intrude upon that space. As for my sister—"

"Your sister's education will not be neglected. If you fulfill your role accordingly, I will honor my word." His assurance, though clipped, brought some measure of relief.

And so, it began.

In the most unceremonious of ways, it felt surreal to Mayumi that while the noble clans and wealthy merchants of the Upper Ring were turned away, a girl of meager birth had managed to secure what she sought. Albeit it was at the cost of servitude. The tasks ahead would be menial, and yet she had gained something others could not.

"Now, Takeko," Shan addressed her by the false name. "Your first task of the day is simple, gift sorting."

"Eh?"

At the storage room and stacked within are countless wrapped parcels, trinkets in various states of organization. Among them, she immediately recognized the gift from the two Ganjinese brothers.

It seemed the anticipated drudgery of household labor would have to wait.

...

She wasn't entirely certain what Shan meant by 'sorting out' the gifts. Ordinarily, when one received presents, it is considered uncouth to relegate them to a dusty old storage room. Yet here lay a mound of offerings, tokens of esteem from Ba Sing Se's Upper Ring aristocracy, each a silent entreaty for favor from a future government official.

To put it bluntly, it is bribery.

Whenever a new Zhuangyuan or officials emerged from the civil service examination, the noble families of the Upper Ring lavished them with such gifts, eager to secure goodwill. As the daughter of a modest village chief, Mayumi is all too familiar with this practice. It preyed upon human nature, exploiting the reluctance to offend potential benefactors. By securing another's gratitude with lavish offerings, which ensnared them in an unspoken debt, it could only be repaid in kind lest the recipient wishes to be viewed as dishonorable. As she sifted through the pile, memories of her village's dockside disputes surfaced, squabbles over the price of fish or petty scuffles with a blacksmith over the most trivial matters. A fisherman might curry favor with her father by offering a fresh salmon as a gesture of goodwill, hoping to tilt a judgment in his favor. Yet her father, adept at navigating these subtle manipulations, would simply refuse such gifts while maintaining an air of courtesy.

Shan had demonstrated no such restraint, or rather, in this realm a Zhuangyuan refusing gifts is a cultural absurdity. It would be naive to apply the rudimentary politics of a fishing village to the former capital of a once-unified realm, but some principles remained universal. Every political marriage Shan declined severed a potential tie with an Upper Ring patriarch. Unless he had some grand design to exclude them from his future dealings without consequence, dismantling such connections is a bold and perhaps reckless move.

The reorganization continued. The pile dwindled as most items were relegated to the storage shelves. Mayumi made several short trips between the musty storeroom and the northern chamber, for Shan deemed only the most useful gifts as worthy of display. Many are exquisite porcelain vases, adorned with intricate depictions of nature and wildlife, a safe yet ostentatious choice.

Preoccupied with the meticulous strokes of calligraphy, he barely acknowledged the options she presented. "Choose the best one and place it on the shelf. The rest go back into the closet," he instructed, never once diverting attention. The brush glided across the parchment with practiced elegance. His right hand moved fluidly, weaving each stroke into an intricate dance. Sometimes, Mayumi found herself stealing glances at his work, mesmerized by the sharp, deliberate precision of calligraphy.

"These aristocrats are too predictable," he remarked idly. "Most of these pots were likely made by the same artisan. The more abundant something is, the less value it holds."

She studied the vases more closely. Each bore its own charm, its own silent testament to the skill of its creator. Despite her doubts about Shan's claim, she thought better than to voice them. What she is certain of is that dropping even one of them would spell its immediate and catastrophic demise, each broken piece worth more than a month's rent in the Lower Ring.

Yet in this instance, such masterful craftsmanship is reduced to mere ornamentation. After perusing dozens of extravagant porcelains, one particular piece caught her eye. It is a white porcelain gourd bottle, adorned with delicate blue tree motifs. It exuded an air of antiquity, the kind of item that would fetch a fortune at an Upper Ring auction, if such a thing even existed. Carefully, she lifted it and approached the White Scholar, who remained engrossed in his work. It took a considerable pause before he finally raised his impassive gaze.

"What's this?" His tone is marred with the faintest trace of impatience.

She wasted no words, explaining concisely that it was a gift from the two Ganjinese brothers, that eccentric duo obsessed with cleanliness. If nothing else, this vase is distinct from the others.

It is unnaturally polished, excessively so.

Shan's eyes flicked between the bottle and the remaining vases before posing a simple question. "Why this one?"

"I did not choose it purely for its vanity," Mayumi replied evenly. "Its smaller size fits perfectly in the empty compartment near the door. The colors offer a refreshing contrast to the rest of the room, making it a striking decoration. Guests will notice it instantly, what greater delight for a sender than to see their gift prominently displayed?" Of course, she suspected Shan cared little for such trivialities. Yet in Ba Sing Se, few ever revealed their true selves, that is the nature of life here.

There was another reason. She sniffed the air to confirm her suspicion. A sharp, unmistakable scent of fermented sorghum. The bottle contained liquor, potent enough to rival even a nomad's fermented milk. The finest wines often commanded exorbitant prices. "There is also wine inside," she added with a small smile. "Storing it here will prevent spoilage."

It's a stroke of luck that Mayumi refrained from rambling on about Feng Shui, that mystical Earth Kingdom art of geomancy that supposedly governs interior design. To her, the porcelain's placement was no more than an instinctive choice, its beauty simply belonged in that spot, and that was enough.

For a fleeting moment, Shan looked mildly surprised that a former stage performer would consider such nuances. But he did not dwell on it long. His brush resumed its quiet dance over the parchment. "Very well then. It may prove useful should the Ganjinese Patriarch make an unannounced visit."

The Gan Jin Patriarch, a name that commanded respect even beyond the bounds of his own people, is no ordinary figure. Within the intricate hierarchy of Ba Sing Se, he stood tall, a man whose influence rippled through the Upper Ring like a steady undercurrent. Whoever he is, Mayumi mused, is likely an elder obsessed with cleanliness, not unlike the persnickety brothers who gifted the porcelain gourd bottle.

Having tucked the artifact where she deemed most appropriate, Mayumi resumed her meticulous rearrangement of the storage room, making the most of what minuscule space remained. The deeper she delved, the more valuable the items became. Trinkets gave way to treasures, resplendent silk robes, rare infusions of herbal tea, and a multitude of lavish gifts bestowed by Upper Ring families.

She stumbled upon a chest brimming with unpolished gold coins and gleaming silver sycees, nearly succumbing to dishonorable temptation before quickly shutting the lid. Its sender, a mere merchant of no distinction, had not even attempted to veil his bribery as generosity. A note lay atop the hoard, unabashedly proclaiming that once Shan attained a bureaucratic post, he is expected to secure political favors in return. The audacity was laughable, if not outright foolish. All Shan had to do is to deny the chest's existence and repurpose its contents as he saw fit.

Mayumi sighed. The grandeur of the gifts was a testament to how thoroughly she had underestimated the scholar's worth in the eyes of the city's elite. In Ba Sing Se, intellect is currency, and the most intelligent ascended through the ranks like fish swimming upstream, becoming admired, feared, and coveted. Shan, with his scholarly renown, had clearly attracted the attention of many aristocrats eager to invest in his future success. Some of their offerings might be displayed in his quarters, though only if utility outweighed ornamentation.

But the strangeness of these solicitations extended beyond material gifts. Towering beside them is a mountain of unopened letters, marriage proposals from clan leaders seeking to forge alliances through matrimony. Mayumi wiped her brow, reading even one of these florid proclamations felt like wading through syrup. Each was an advertisement of bloodline and benefit, penned with boastful flourish.

One patriarch likened his daughter's complexion to the blush of spring and her heart to the crystalline purity of a mountain stream. The prose was so cloyingly poetic that Mayumi suspected it had been ghostwritten by a budget scholar rather than the father himself.

Shan had tasked her with sorting the letters after inspection, ensuring none bore uniquely consequential contents. Rather than consign them to the table, he insisted they be stacked neatly in here, waiting to be inspected.

It was nothing short of comedic. This heap of intimate correspondences now lay in the hands of a countryside girl, hired for menial tasks unworthy of a scholar's station. Seizing the opportunity, Mayumi skimmed a few of the betrothal pleas herself, curious whether any had been written by the daughters. In aristocratic circles, marriage is more duty than desire, heiresses often had no voice in their own unions.

As she sorted the growing stack, she noted certain names with an air of familiarity. Ba Sing Se, the grand throne of the now divided Earth Kingdom, housed dynasties whose roots stretched across thousands of years. Among the prestigious families include the venerable Ji, Ying, and Liu clans, descendants of monarchs in very ancient past. The more recent but no less prestigious Li, Zhao, and Zhu families also vied for Shan's attention. Even a nomadic khanate had extended an offer, hoping to anchor themselves to the city's social aristocracy.

Yet conspicuously absent is the Te family, unsurprising given their patriarch's refusal to forgive Shan's past insult. Like the poems and court tales Mayumi had read, this is a game of veiled maneuvering, but one she had no desire to play.

After allocating the remaining tributes onto the crowded shelves, Mayumi turned at the sound of Shan's approaching footsteps. He entered, eyes briefly scanning the room before offering a single approving nod.

She presented a green silk wrapping, the same elegant cloth once draping the Ganjinese brothers' porcelain container. Surely, he would want it inventoried as well.

"No need, simply dispose of it," Shan said flatly, barely glancing at it. "It has served its purpose."

Mayumi blinked. The fabric is exquisite, its texture and weave are unmistakably the work of a master tailor. She didn't voice her disapproval but silently slid the wrapping into her robe's pocket when he wasn't looking. Wastefulness, she decided, need not be obeyed.

"By the way, what should I do with these?" she asked, gesturing toward the mountainous stack of letters. There is simply too many to count, each one brimming with aspirations to secure Shan's favor through family ties. If she tried to fill a barrel, the parchment would overflow. "And how do you intend to respond to them?" she inquired, knowing that the task will require herself trudging across Ba Sing Se, hand-delivering replies. A personal messenger is customary amongst Earth Kingdom affluence, far more respectful than entrusting the city's overworked post office.

How would the White Scholar, Zhuangyuan of this year's civil service exam, navigate the courtship of powerful families? These are not mere merchants or fishmongers that could be turned away with a scoff. These are wolves in silk, and they would persist until he made a choice that would inevitably offend the rest. Surely a man of his station had experience with such matters. Perhaps Mayumi could glean a few tricks to deflect future suitors of her own.

Shan snapped open a white paper fan, fanning himself as though combating invisible heat. "Like dry leaves that fall when winter strikes, so too shall I cut the cost of firewood."

Mayumi grimaced as Shan strolled out of the dimly lit storage room, his fan snapping shut with a finality that made her uneasy. His poetic remark, likening the flood of letters to dry leaves fit only for kindling, left her uncertain whether he was being brilliantly ironic or recklessly dismissive. Any scholar worth their ink would know that severing ties with the powerful is a dangerous game. These correspondents weren't mere socialites with idle whims, they are potential patrons, wealthy elites who commissioned art, calligraphy, and influence alike. In such circles, goodwill is currency. By outright ignoring their proposals, Shan risked not only appearing aloof but insulting. His silence could be construed as scorn, a gesture that might echo far beyond the Te clan's bruised pride.

Surely there are more diplomatic ways to dismantle these arranged marriage overtures, especially when many of these prestigious families lived just few stone's throw away. In her village, her father had been a master of soft refusal, weaving half-truths and gentle evasions to spare feelings and maintain peace. And if the message still failed to land, there is always the matron, a figure both revered and feared. Her mere presence ensured no romantic overture lingered beyond its welcome.

Although fully aware that he shared quarters with the influential families of the Upper Ring, Shan knowingly violated the unspoken boundary, courting potential adversaries who might pose an inconvenience once he assumes official office.

"Don't you feel compelled to at least acknowledge them?" Mayumi suggested, halting Shan's steps. "A simple written response to the numerous clans would suffice. Not replying is... irresponsible."

Regret washed over almost immediately after those words left her lips. She had failed to consider his temperament. The White Scholar was unwavering in his rigor, both toward others and himself. She had seen the contents of his Keju examination, which revealed it all. A philosophy of a harsh meritocracy, unrelenting and uncompromising with a profound disdain for those with inherited power, whose incompetence often rendered their titles meaningless.

"Is it your place to question?" Shan inquired, devoid of a glance, subtly reminding Mayumi's position.

The remark lacked malice, yet it held an implicit truth. A mere village girl, unschooled in the intricate dance of Upper Ring politics, could hardly presume to lecture a local scholar on such matters.

Mayumi cautioned her words, carefully choosing her next response. Under different circumstances, she might have easily overpowered any non-bender in a confrontation, compelling them into submission. But not here. Not now. For her, the choice was either to swallow her pride or jeopardize her sister's education.

"My apologies," she offered with a bow, voice softening. "I spoke too hastily. What I meant to say was—"

"It's fine," Shan interrupted. "Yours truly do not believe it is proper to expect someone of my station to respond to every letter sent by the nepotists. Why should a towering mountain humble itself before wildflowers born of spoiled soil? No matter how exquisite they may seem, they are but thieves, feeding off the very earth they scorn."

His disdain for the prestigious households of the Upper Ring, those who inherited wealth rather than earned it, was clear. Therefore, Mayumi have even more reasons to keep her identity as a daughter of a chief hidden, for fear of such contempt being directed her way.

"Aside from this trivial matter, is there anything else you wish to discuss?" Shan asked. Though spoken casually for a man of eloquence, it did hinted impatience.

At that moment, Mayumi recalled something, a rather peculiar gift, one she feared is wholly inappropriate. Yet, it was too late to retract her thoughts. The White Scholar had already noticed the purple box in the corner of the storage room, its contents concealed within. Before she could intervene, he crossed the room and retrieved it.

"Why didn't you inform me that we had something like this in the house?" he asked, turning the package over in his hands.

What he held is a gift from the Ximen clan, currently the most powerful family in the Upper Ring. Based on the letters affixed to the parcel, it had come from the main branch, which contended with its relatives for the favor of the Zhuangyuan.

At least, that was Mayumi's initial assumption.

The object was crafted entirely from wood, its design unmistakably foreign to the Earth Kingdom's traditional style. Far removed from their customary art, it suggests an influence from that great state in the west, a stolen region considered by many here to be an incoherent blend of disparate cultures. The rhythmic ticking and the circle of numbers indicated one thing unmistakably, an antique clock. While it is remarkably beautiful, its presentation as a gift is fraught with implications.

According to her father, both Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation superstitions forbade clocks as gifts, as their very nature is associated with death. In the most common dialect used by Earth Kingdom mandarins, the word for clock and end shared the same sound, an omen of finality. Thus, gifting such an object conveyed a desire for the recipient's life to end. Much like offering white flowers or a coffin, presenting objects linked to death is a profound insult, one that could spark grave consequences. She feared the White Scholar would be deeply offended.

Shan handed her the clock, and she braced herself for an outburst. To her surprise, none came. Despite his earlier disdain for the Te clan, Shan offered no such venom toward the Ximen family. Not yet at least.

"This one, I will keep," he instructed. "Place it in my room, where I can see it clearly."

Mayumi nodded, still surprised by his calmness. It seemed too simple, too effortless. Shan should have at least voiced some scorn for the Ximen clan's insolence. She knew well, and he likely did too, that the sender was none other than Ximen Qing. That playful scion epitomized the societal decay Shan so despised. An indulgent aristocrat, given to excess and entitled to his birthright. Just the kind of person Shan had railed against in his eight-legged essay.

It's highly probable that the third-place victor, disgruntled by their standing, seeks to amuse themselves by mocking the first-place graduate. However, the labyrinthine thoughts of the aristocracy are a realm she has no intention of delving into. One scandal, one slip-up, could be enough to unravel a reputation painstakingly cultivated over decades. And yet, the young scion of the Ximen family carries himself with the audacity of a seasoned general marching boldly across a battlefield.

Both she and the man beside her have already ventured several paces into this treacherous world, and retreat seems as improbable as escaping the grasp of fate itself.

...

"There, that should suffice," Mayumi murmured.

The clock is now positioned on a small table in the scholar's bedroom. Despite its outwardly innocent appearance, a part of Mayumi remained suspicious of the device. If the man behind it, Ximen Qing, was truly as her colleagues at Jin's restaurant had described, a spoiled and depraved noble shielded by birthright, then caution is warranted in interpreting his actions.

As Shan finished his calligraphy, Mayumi approached with a small tray of tea, placing it gently on his desk. She reached for the teapot, intent on serving him, but he stopped the act with a gesture.

"It's fine, I will pour it myself. Inside my home, such actions matter little, but in public, you will pour the tea for appearances." Shan took the teapot, filling his own cup. It was a curious deviation from the norms of aristocratic etiquette, where subordinates traditionally served their superiors. It spoke volumes about his approach, one that contrasted starkly with the formal expectations of those who bore nobility.

But upon tasting the tea, Shan's brows furrowed slightly in surprise. "This isn't Gongfu tea," he remarked.

His eyes narrowed as he observed the scarlet and white petals that floated within. "It seems I've let my guard slip. How... careless of me." Those words were laced with a subtle self-reproach.

Mayumi's pulse quickened. It didn't matter whom he referred to. She is acutely aware of the misstep yet carefully concealed her unease. The intention was to enhance the flavor with a few White Dragon Bush leaves from her personal supply, thinking it might please him. It was a small gesture of kindness, meant to cultivate his favor and perhaps ensure enthusiasm in teaching Satchiko in the ways of literary arts. But as the disapproval simmered in Shan's eyes, it was clear that good intentions had only backfired.

"Though I understand your gesture was not ill-meaning," Shan's tone grew sharper. "What is in this teapot is not what I specifically requested." He fixed her with a steady gaze. "Had you been aware of a shortage of tea leaves, you ought to have informed me beforehand. I hold in contempt to those who cannot fulfill a task to its fullest."

As expected of a scholar who prided himself on history and examples that supported his ideals, Shan began citing a case from the annals of Earth Kingdom history, one used many previous philosophers who are scornful rivals to the Earth Sages.

Strangely, his words didn't carry the sternness of an Earth Sage lecturing a lowly peasant. Instead, his tone was imbued with a cynicism that bordered on something far colder than mere self-righteousness.

"Long ago, a ruler had two attendants, one was entrusted with the crown, and the other with the robe. If the keeper of the crown draped the robe over the sleeping monarch, both attendants must be executed."

Mayumi's eyes widened in confusion. "Death? Is that not an extreme punishment for such a minor mistake?"

The analogy was grim, the kind of harsh wisdom that Shan espoused without a second thought. All she had done was add a few extra tea petals to enhance the flavor. Rather than appreciate the gesture, he saw only failure.

"It was no mere mistake," Shan corrected, devoid of compassion for the two attendants, who had been brutally executed according to the historical record. "It wasn't about disregarding kindness, but about maintaining order, something many take for granted even in this era of constant warring. The keeper of the crown overstepped his station, while the keeper of the robe neglected his duty. Both failed in their designated tasks."

Mayumi tensed. She hadn't anticipated that such a trivial mistake would elicit greater scorn from the stern scholar, who holds no love to the humanistic philosophy of the Earth Sages.

He continued.

"When a ruler rewards unlawful conduct, they sow the seeds of greater transgressions. Such indulgence fuels ambition, leading those under their rule to craft devious schemes that could ultimately threaten the very system they are meant to uphold. In such a scenario, where is the semblance of order and stability? Can individuals simply act with impunity, bending their actions to gain favor with the ruler? If an administrator is swayed by extravagant gifts and hollow flattery, he becomes vulnerable to the manipulations of those around them, at the mercy of self-serving tactics. Thus, elevating those who act beyond their rightful station erodes the foundations of societal harmony. It invites the specter of usurpation by ambitious ministers. In a true meritocratic system, the goal should be to transcend selfish desires and dedicate oneself to the unwavering preservation of public order."

Mayumi pondered his words, understanding all too well the consequences that had led to the fall of many esteemed figures in Earth Kingdom history. In battle, a general might fall to a stray boulder or a misfired arrow. But within the fortified walls of great cities, it only took a vial of poison to send a life to an early grave, no matter how virtuous or beloved a victim may be.

It's… exhausting. Such anxieties were never a concern on Kyoshi Island, where respect flowed effortlessly toward those seasoned by time, such as the elders and the senior warriors who stood guard over their homeland. Though she shares the same age as this white-robed scholar, their positions in the world are worlds apart, each separated by the deep chasm between egalitarian upbringing and the rigid hierarchies of this city. Her longing for a life distinct from her own has begun to reveal its true cost, and the weight of that realization is finally sinking in.

She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, careful to maintain composure as she sought to mend the situation with a diplomatic tone. "I apologize. This was my mistake, and I assure you it will not happen again."

"Very well, Takeko," Shan replied, standing from the chair to inspect his calligraphy. "However, there will be consequences for your actions. Your pay will be reduced, but only for today."

The punitive decision was accepted in silence, a concession that carries little weight. Yet, there remains one detail that the Kyoshi Warrior hopes the scholar might clarify.

"I thought there would be no pay for this," she reminded him gently. "I'm working for you in exchange for your tutoring of my sister."

Shan looked at her, almost offended by the suggestion. "Do you honestly think I would accept your service without recompense? The laws of this city no longer allow uncompensated household servants. Greed, I find, is a useful motivator, a great tool that can be applied even among the noblest of people."

The scholar never made an effort to sway the newly hired to his beliefs. In kind, Mayumi refrained from openly challenging his misguided view of humanity, particularly the skepticism toward the honor of a Kyoshi Warrior and the casual dismissal of a sibling's unconditional love.

Choosing to ignore the steady gaze fixed by her, Shan began carefully packing the rolled-up scrolls into a bamboo frame backpack. This particular accessory, a hallmark of Earth Kingdom scholars, is especially common among less privileged students who lacked the luxury of servants to carry their books and scrolls. Within the backpack's compartments, the White Scholar's latest paintings, poems, and calligraphies are protected from the threat of rain, signaling his intention to leave the comfort of his residence.

"All I expect from you is that you fulfill your role without stepping beyond your bounds. In turn, I will do the same." He paused for a moment, pondering before continuing. "You were once a stage actor, weren't you?"

It was a challenge, a subtle test of both her capabilities and truthfulness. Mayumi glanced at the bamboo backpack, understanding that he expects her to carry it. They would soon be traveling to meet clients who had contracted a scholar's services. The gesture would solidify their professional relationship, shielding them from any grotesque misinterpretations by the aristocracy. Yet, the assumption that she valued money more than family stung.

While Mayumi understood that even the kindest of folks often choose to reveal only parts of the truth to their friends and family, she never had any qualms about it. If adopting a certain role could help those she held dear, then it was always worth the time and effort.

...

The Middle Ring of the city certainly feels closer to her origins. Bereft of the ostentatious opulence that defines the Upper Ring, it offers a welcome respite. There is a simpler, more genuine aesthetic that evokes a sense of familiarity. The green roof tiles, worn but still proud. Walking paths are less adorned but more sincere, bringing with them a quiet comfort. With each step, Mayumi is reminded of the contents of her bamboo backpack. The subtle swish of the scrolls within reverberates faintly, a reminder of the weight they carry. Though merely a collection of carefully inscribed characters, these calligraphies hold immense value. Clients who have commissioned Shan the White Scholar have paid a no small fortune for these works. In Ba Sing Se, like most cities, a scholar's reputation dictates the price of their craft. The more esteemed one becomes, the more costly their services.

"Where are we headed next?" Mayumi asked, sidestepping a cluster of merchants from the Si Wong Desert.

"Just a simple restaurant," Shan replied. "A place called Li Wa's White Peony."

This vague answer prompted a subtle raise of her brow. Judging by the position of the sun, it is still too early for lunch. The location itself felt offbeat, an anomaly amid the residential areas they had visited thus far. Since departing their residence, they had delivered scrolls to a series of households and villas, each a new destination in the circuit of commissioned works. It's possible their next client is a restaurant owner. From what Mayumi had gathered, superstition plays a large part in these commissions. Wealthy individuals often believed that the presence of a renowned scholar's work would bestow good fortune upon their homes or businesses, a curious and somewhat humorous belief, particularly given her father's own occasional musings on the supposed power of Feng Shui. Not wishing to be outdone, the villagers on Kyoshi Island shared their own superstitions, one of which involved cats. The old innkeeper in the village square was never without his cat. The feline's sole purpose, it seemed, is to also attract wealth. In fact, Mayumi realized the standards for such cats were remarkably specific. Almost every time she and Satchiko passed by the inn, they were greeted by a white cat, wearing a red collar and yellow bell, its paw perpetually waving as though beckoning them closer.

Her sister was terrified. The fear of cats had developed after a childhood incident when a stray had scratched her dress. Since then, the sight of any feline sent her scrambling for cover, usually behind Mayumi.

A faint smile curved Mayumi's lips as she remembered those days. Satchiko had always been the one to get into trouble. Getting stuck on trees, challenging cats to duels she could never win. Such were the fond memories that would linger, hidden beneath layers of time.

"We've arrived," Shan's voice broke through her thoughts.

Mayumi lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting the grandeur of a multistoried building, its exterior lavishly glided in shades of green and brown stone. The coin-shaped symbols of the Earth Kingdom are visible here and there, reminders of the building's roots. It was far more extravagant than Jin's humble eatery, yet as she studied the architecture more closely, the purpose of the structure became unmistakably clear.

"Shan," she asked hesitantly, without any curiosity this time. "Is this place… a brothel?"

"It was," he replied, completely unruffled by the delicate nature of the question. "Although, those with a penchant for propriety prefer to call such establishments courtesan houses. Much to the amusement of yours truly, many young students from the Upper Ring squandered their wealth on such a frivolous pursuit, all the while neglecting their studies for the Civil Service Examination and depriving the state of capable servants. Yet, there lies an undeniable irony in it all. The courtesans themselves were skilled and cultured, well-versed in the literary works that have defined our nation's most prosperous eras. And many of their clients are no strangers to the arts, great poets and writers lies among them. They were inspired by the very sights and experiences they encountered within the courtesan house."

This is of course a great anathema to the Earth Sages, who preach the importance of moral uprightness and familial values. It is no secret that many of their own students frequent such establishments, much to the chagrin of those with humbler backgrounds. There are even whispers of how little sway the Earth Sage teachings hold over the young noble scions of society, who mock the rigid traditions that seek to bind them to conventionality.

"The explanation," Mayumi sighed in exasperation. "Was that truly necessary?" She wasn't sure if the details were purposefully laid out, dissecting the intricacies of what was essentially a brothel only to vex someone like herself. Yet, considering his rigid character as a scholar, unyielding and meritocratic, there was likely no malice intent.

Thankfully, Mayumi didn't need to fear what she might encounter inside. The scholar soon explained that laws from ten years ago, harshly enforced, had forced many such establishments to change ownership. Their original proprietors and staff scattering elsewhere. This of course was much to the dismay of many feckless husbands who wished to avoid their responsibilities. The courtesans had long since vanished, with the state appeasing the likes of Earth Sage Zhu Xi, who held contempt for such indulgent industries.

Yet, this building still managed to draw a steady stream of customers. The sweet strains of music, the heart-stirring poems, and the creators behind them still found a place here. Courtesan houses in the great cities are no mere brothels. They are prestigious, even exclusive. A grand and beautiful building would be wasted if it didn't offer artistic value to the merchants and distinguished travelers who frequented such places in ages past. Some whispered that even Earth Kings had visited these establishments, perhaps seeking excitement that their thousand-strong royal harem failed to provide. Though many illegitimate heirs to the throne might have been born within these walls, at least no open war had ever erupted within the city.

"Years ago, in the wake of unpopular decrees, the Pan family took control of this establishment," Shan recounted briefly, carrying a hint of emphasis as he pointed out that the victims of these harsh laws had not been treated with leniency. "Yours truly must admit, I'm impressed by their determination to breathe life into a crumbling building, and the success of their heir is certainly worthy of praise. Now, follow me."

Mayumi followed the scholar closely as they walked through the main entrance. From the reaction of the waitress, a woman who was likely a former lower-ranked courtesan now employed by the new Pan family owners, it was clear that the White Scholar's arrival was anticipated. A private room had already been prepared for them, a stark contrast to the humble inns and wine huts Mayumi was used to back home. Even Jin's restaurant couldn't accommodate private dining, and though Li Wa's White Peony had additional floors, they are reserved for customers willing to pay a premium for the luxury of privacy. But there is another purpose behind this, one not immediately apparent.

The Middle Ring occupies a distinctive position in a city like Ba Sing Se. It lacks the overwhelming opulence of the Upper Ring, yet is far removed from the memories of poverty that linger in the Lower Ring. Instead, it serves as a gathering place for those from all walks of life who are striving to improve their status, particularly when it comes to the wealth in their pockets. Aspiring merchants might conduct business dealings here, while influential clan members might host small banquets for minor officials, hoping to bribe their way into certain privileges before their aspirations are inevitably shackled. Regardless of the intentions, the expensive ingredients offered by prestigious establishments like this one hold universal appeal, an especially tempting prospect for a certain Kyoshi Warrior, whose senses are now intoxicated by the mouthwatering aroma of simmered meat and exotic spices.

As they step into the main hall, with a ceiling soaring far higher than necessary, they are greeted by sprawling tables filled with scholars and merchants, each enjoying their fine meals and cups of tea. The moment the White Scholar enters, many eyes fixated on him, and Mayumi can't help but feel a wave of intimidation. She can't shake the sensation that this world, with its careful play of flattery and status is more suited to her employer, the scholar born and bred in the cultural heart of the Earth Kingdom.

"Ah, Shan!" called out a voice.

A group of young men, scholars who had also participated in the Civil Service Examination, greeted them. Though they hailed from the Upper Ring, they had no qualms about visiting such an establishment, drawn by its renowned food and drink. Unlike the Earth Sages, they seemed to harbor a genuine respect for Shan, whose sky-rocketing reputation as Zhuangyuan is the envy of even the wealthiest households. There is no pretense here, mostly admiration.

Mayumi maintained a respectful distance as Shan navigated the grand hall, with the latter performing the minimal requirement of reciprocating the flood of congratulations from the sea of strangers. Her attention wavered from the intricate surroundings, stone fountains, koi gracefully swimming through artificial streams, their vivid colors dancing in the light. These details, though beautiful, were lost to her as she observed the crowd.

It was clear that they are all strangers, yet the moment they entered, they acted as though they were close friends of her employer. Despite showering Shan with compliments and exaggerated flattery, Mayumi could sense the underlying insincerity. There was no malice or jealousy in their words, but some of the congratulations felt like mere formalities, offered up for the sake of public decorum.

"To think you truly became the number one graduate in the imperial examination, your accomplishments astound us all!" a merchant remarked, rich with flattery. The words were followed by a burst of laughter, warm yet rehearsed. Shan being ever poised, responded with polite phrases, offering the bare minimum needed for such public exchanges.

Briefly, their conversation shifted to Shan's essay, an intellectual triumph that now graced the city's walls. No one had yet bested its perfection, even the Earth Sages found themselves at a loss in countering the White Scholar's rhetoric on how to address the fractured realm. One patron even went so far as to praise Shan for standing firm against the Te patriarch, that stubborn, bitter old man who had dared question the legitimacy of the examination.

"I was there this morning, almost felt sorry for Lord Te, almost," a middle-aged scholar chuckled, sipping from a delicate cup of jasmine tea. A ripple of laughter followed. Everyone except Shan and Mayumi partook in the humor at Lord Te's expense.

The people of Ba Sing Se, ever hungry for drama, delighted in the spectacle of noble folly. Yet as the jest spread, Mayumi remained silent. Though the patriarch's blunder was undeniable, she couldn't help but feel a faint empathy. Any fathers who would sacrifice their own honor for the sake of their children at least deserve some leniency.

As the flood of well-wishers continued to encircle Shan, the attention of the room shifted to a figure descending the grand staircase. A graceful entrance.

The young gentleman, possessing a finer presence than any scion or talented man from the northern reaches of the continent, had chosen to bless them with his presence. With long, meticulously combed hair, the man who now stood before the White Scholar is none other than the fourth-place holder of the civil service examination. The romantic, charming poet renowned throughout Ba Sing Se, Pan Yue.

He alone approached the esteemed scholar, offering a bow and a string of congratulatory words that only the finest poet in the city could ever craft. Had this young heir to the Pan family not dedicated himself to the demanding life of managing a Middle Ring restaurant, it is possible that the calligraphy peddler named Shan might have lost a good portion of clients who seeks poetry commissions.

"Young Master Pan Yue," Shan greeted formally with a bow. "Allow yours truly to express gratitude for your kind invitation."

Unlike the aloof Ximen Qing, Pan Yue is not above engaging in cordial conversation with his peers. Though the poet may not have been as versed in the political sciences or philosophy, Shan himself acknowledged the young man's unparalleled mastery of poetry.

"These halls are always open to you, exalted White Scholar," Pan Yue declared. "We've even added a new section to this tower, dedicated to those who speak the language of poetry."

While many in the city paid little mind to the written word, Shan and other young scholars of Ba Sing Se reveled in the unexpected brilliance of poetry from travelers, merchants and even farmers alike. Some of whom, often after a few too many cups of wine, revealed talents that even seasoned poets could envy. Although the Earth Kingdom's greatest golden age is far behind them, the legacy of its poetry during those glorious years never faded.

"A fine addition, Young Master Pan Yue," Shan replied, his eyes falling on a section of the second floor, where long scrolls of poetry hung from the ceiling. "Perhaps another time. I believe my client may arrive shortly."

After more exchanges of pleasantries, Pan Yue led them up to the fourth-floor room reserved for their meeting. The space was well-appointed, antique chairs and a round table perfectly set for a meal in private. On one of the walls hung a painting, crafted by a local Ba Sing Se artist, capturing the essence of a garden party set during the realm's most glorious era, which also coincides with the golden age of poetry. The scene, elegantly depicted on the parchment, was teeming with the illustrious figures of that time. Among them stood the great poet Li Hei, surrounded by some of the finest wordsmiths from across the world, their expressions ranging from contemplative to animated as they exchanged verses. Even a distinguished envoy from the Fire Nation, who had settled within this very city, was present.

Mayumi sighed with relief as she lowered the bamboo backpack. Pan Yue excused himself to inspect the kitchen and tea preparations. In the meanwhile, her gaze fell to the table, where a circular glass piece can be spun effortlessly, a marvel of design that promised future deliberations.

"Some tea please, any will suffice," Shan said, resting his elbows on the table after taking a seat, chin nestled in his clenched hands.

"What leaves would you prefer?" Mayumi asked, careful not to overstep her station.

"Any will do," he repeated.

With that, she chose a safe option, a simple serving of oolong tea from the lounge's selection. She placed the tray on the table, testing the glass's rotation for amusement before settling it firmly.

"And who is this client of yours?" Mayumi inquired, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "A noble, perhaps? A member of a wealthy Earth Kingdom clan?"

"False. yours truly consider this gentleman far above such lowly nepotists." Shan strolled over to the bamboo backpack, withdrawing a rolled calligraphy scroll and an ink wash painting. He laid them gently on the spinning glass, positioning them on his side of the table. "He hails from across the Mo Ce Sea, learned and well-traveled. Like some wanderers, he came to Ba Sing Se not for trade, but to experience the high culture this city offers. I suppose that isn't an outright lie, considering this is one of the few places in the realm where a defenseless scholar might escape the threat of roadside brigands."

"Oh?" Mayumi's curiosity piqued. "Is he from the Fire Nation?"

Shan responded with a subtle nod, affirming her question. The man from the Fire Nation must be quite a character, someone capable of earning the rare respect of the usually unyielding White Scholar. But what could compel a Fire Nation native to risk his life venturing into this unstable, treacherous continent? Aside from the occasional traders and diplomats, the daily massacres and atrocities would surely deter any outsider from even considering a step on this blood-soaked land. Even on Kyoshi Island, the horrors of the mainland always loom as a constant, distant threat. Warlords butcher each other over scraps of land and resources, while ruthless bandits pillage defenseless villages without a second thought. Famine, disease, and natural disasters, together they form a grotesque symphony of suffering and despair.

Only a handful of havens remain safe enough to endure. And as for those who mock the necessity of towering walls, how many of them are still alive to regret their naive words?

"His enthusiasm is commendable, but it borders on reckless folly. Yours truly suppose he values my artwork more than his own life, considering how pirates love to target undefended Fire Nation ships." Shan blew lightly on his tea, a moment's pause in his contemplation. "It's a characteristic shared by their people, a relentless passion to pursue their goals, no matter the risk. And with that same commitment, I will honor his request through my calligraphy."

Mayumi felt an unsettling familiarity stir within her. An eager tourist from the Fire Nation, venturing into the Earth Kingdom, nearly falling prey to pirates. Hadn't she encountered someone like that before? Perhaps these Fire Nation folk were driven by an insatiable thirst for adventure, placing themselves in constant danger in a land ravaged by war, famine, and lawlessness. The Fire Nation, with its relative peace and power, surely had no understanding of the struggles the mainland endured. And sometimes, Mayumi couldn't help but wonder why they would jeopardize their lives for such reckless pursuits.

She paused, cutting off her thoughts with a sharp realization. It would be hypocritical to view them as foolish when she too had danced with danger. If not for a stroke of fortune and meeting the Kheshig under the most favorable of circumstances, she and Satchiko would have fallen into the hands of those four mysterious benders.

Her mind snapped back to the present as two scrolls were unfurled across the table. But these were no landscape paintings. Instead, they depicted the everyday lives of people farming, trading, and living in harmony during times of peace. The intricate details captured the beauty of a life unmarred by violence, a glimpse into a world that seemed increasingly distant as the continent continued to bleed from its endless conflicts. It was clear the client yearned for such tranquility, a rare sight in a land ravaged by chaos.

"He is here," Shan's voice broke the silence, placing the lid back onto his teacup.

Mayumi shot him a look of confusion, but before she could question further, she felt a subtle shift in the air. Seconds later, her instincts confirmed the truth, someone was approaching along the hallway outside the room. Years of training in the arts of stealth allowed her to sense even the faintest of movements, to detect hidden enemies before they revealed themselves. This heightened awareness of sound and sight is a legacy passed down through the Kyoshi warriors, a unique skill honed by non-benders since the time of Avatar Kyoshi herself.

Yet somehow, the quiet scholar who never held a sword in his life, detected the approaching presence first. She could only marvel at how a man like him accomplished that.

She shifted her piercing blue eyes toward the door. In stepped a lone young gentleman, his presence strikingly out of place in the room. His attire sharply contrasted with the surrounding's predominantly green decor, dressed in a brilliant red robe and wide sleeves flowing elegantly with the long overcoat billowing down to his ankles. What truly set him apart, however, is the distinctive dark cylindrical hat perched atop his head. The wide brim was supported by a bamboo frame. Strings of beads, many of them glinting in the light, dangled from it.

Mayumi recalled that people from the Fire Nation adhered to a particularly rigid code when it came to the styling of their topknots. Surely this elaborate hat was designed to preserve such a revered hairstyle. As for the ensemble, it was both simple and imbued with an understated nobility, as though this gentleman occupied a space suspended between the peasantry and the aristocracy.

Shan rose to his feet, offering the customary salutation befitting a gentleman of Ba Sing Se.

"Long time no see, Seonbi," he said. "I trust the weather in Ba Sing Se suits your liking?"

Both men bowed to one another. Despite hailing from entirely different lands, it seemed scholars shared a unique form of respect, particularly in the delicate realm of courtly etiquette.

The Fire Nation visitor seated himself at the central table. Mayumi, with practiced precision, poured tea into his cup.

"Thank you," Seonbi replied respectfully. Without delay, he engaged Shan in conversation, first congratulating him on his recent success in the civil service exam. He then recounted his observations while touring Ba Sing Se's districts. According to the anecdotes, peasants from the Lower Ring eagerly pored over Shan's thesis, with even the most unlettered finding meaning, despite their lack of scholarly education.

"You honor me, Seonbi," Shan replied with a neutral expression. "However, I must apologize that my trivial dispute with Lord Te likely isn't what you sought, as studying governance and the lifestyle of a crowded city would surely be better pursued without the hindrance of eager masses."

The ever-courteous guest dispelled any such concerns with a wave of his hand, instead emphasizing the significance of even the humblest peoples engaging in scholarly pursuits.

"The way of the scholar is open to all," Seonbi said with quiet conviction. "A nation prospers when even its poorest can read and write."

Shan nodded, his eyes closed in quiet contemplation, perhaps lamenting how the value of education had been lost on certain scions of the Upper Ring, who found more meaning in indulgence than in intellectual endeavor. The conversation flowed easily, for it seemed both men shared humble origins, and thus an unspoken understanding.

After a moment, Seonbi withdrew a small pouch from his bag and placed several coins on the table. Mayumi noted the presence of scrolls in his luggage, one of which appeared familiar.

"I regret that I don't possess the coinage of your people, but would you accept these?" Seonbi asked, placing several Fire Nation ban coins onto the rotating glass surface. Unlike the round Earth Kingdom coins with square holes, the Fire Nation's currency is angular and also tiered in material, some of which gleamed in gold. The coins bore the Fire Nation insignia, unmistakable in its design.

"Gold is gold," Shan replied graciously, though his face betrayed little emotion. "Wars plague this realm like crows upon a carcass. The value and consistency of currencies beyond our shores are nonetheless welcomed."

Mayumi, tasked with managing the exchange, handed over scrolls of paintings and calligraphy to the client. Shan received the coins in turn.

"I hope your friend would not be disappointed with her souvenirs," Shan said to Seonbi. The tone is rather dull, but there is genuine interest. It seemed that during their previous meeting, the traveler had explained that these gifts were intended for another.

"She will find these pieces most enlightening," Seonbi replied, scanning the displayed works. "She has a particular fondness for collecting all manner of objects. To my knowledge, her first collection included baskets from the Northern Water Tribe. Whenever I meet her, she always speaks of how societies must learn to work together for the common good."

Shan's eyes narrowed sharply. "I suppose such qualities would make decent leaders."

Mayumi could detect the subtle skepticism in Shan's voice. For the citizens of the fractured Earth Kingdom, battered by endless civil wars and rebellions, the ideal of cooperation had long since ceased to be a noble dream. In fact, it is often mocked as naive. Of course, it is easy for those in a peaceful and prosperous nation to utter such idealistic sentiments. Though perhaps, it is not entirely impossible.

"About your friend, you never told me her name" Shan inquired.

Seonbi hesitated, a slight cough escaping him before he responded.

"Her name... is of no great importance," he said, striving to remain respectful despite the discomfort evident in his hesitation.

Mayumi, sensing the pressure Seonbi was under, sympathized with him. At times, conversing with Shan felt akin to being subjected to an interrogation. It required great fortitude to face the scholar directly. As an educated poet, Seonbi is likely aware of the events surrounding the Keju ceremony, the humiliation of the Te clan and the tarnishing of their once-pristine reputation. Like herself, Seonbi no doubt understood the importance of maintaining cordial relations with Shan, the White Scholar.

"She is but a servant in the Royal Palace, taking a keen interest in comparing other societies to our own," Seonbi explained, his calm demeanor gradually dissipating signs of discomfort. "She returned from a vacation a month ago and will soon be deployed to another town. I am simply purchasing these Earth Kingdom artworks as a token of gratitude for our longstanding friendship."

"An admirable sentiment," Shan observed, sipping his tea. "I see you value your friend tediously." But the White Scholar's words mustn't be taken at face value. Insult or complement can be artistically blended into one. Only the most learned individuals may pick up those subtle cues.

Seeking to shift the flow of conversation, Seonbi steered the topic toward Shan's recent rise as one of the city's most prominent scholars. In turn, Shan obliged.

"I've heard much about you," Seonbi remarked. "Across the city, word has spread of the four great gentlemen of Ba Sing Se."

As Mayumi refilled their teacups, the two scholars continued their deliberations, discussing the four young men who had captured the public imagination with their varied talents and refined cultural sensibilities.

In the grand city of Ba Sing Se, a jewel of the northern Earth Kingdom, these four gentlemen represented a blend of refined skills and individual brilliance, though none could meet the lofty standards set by the Earth Sages in terms of moral conduct.

First, there is Gong Zi, the son of the venerable Gan Jin patriarch. As the heir to a lineage steeped in nobility, the weight of expectation presses heavily upon his youthful shoulders. Yet, despite his esteemed bloodline, Gong Zi falters in the literary arts. Thus, shunned by the sages who revere only those well-versed in the ancient texts. His lack of intellectual prowess in this revered domain renders him a figure of quiet scorn in their eyes.

Then, there is Pan Yue, the striking and youthful poet whose beauty seems to belong to the very heavens themselves. With every glance, he captures the hearts of many maidens, with words flowing like liquid silk in the most enchanting verses. Yet beneath his exterior of delicate charm lies a man who remains loyal to his late wife, untouched by the temptations of those who might otherwise fall under his spell. But even the most adored of gentlemen have their critics. To the staunch moralists, Pan Yue's allure is overshadowed by his perceived indulgence in commerce instead of sagely duties. Refusing to remarry is also considered an act that shirks familial responsibilities, especially for an heir.

In contrast, there is the unscrupulous Ximen Qing, whose family's wealth flows as freely as the rivers. With an abundance of gold at his disposal, the very notion of shame has become foreign to him, as if fortune absolves him of any moral shortcoming. His charms are as numerous as his conquests, and yet his one redeeming virtue, if it can be called such, lies in his family's illustrious history. It is a lineage that predates even the first unification of the Earth Kingdom.

Lastly there is the newest member of the group, at least that's what the gossiping masses are concerned. Shan, a prodigy of unparalleled literary talent and a future luminary of the city's bureaucracy, forged himself a path into this superficial concept. Though he lacks the prestigious connections of the Upper Ring, the mastery of the classics alone elevates him above many peers. Yet, much to the consternation of the Earth Sages, this scholarly young man harbors a dark proclivity that lean not toward the harmonious rulership they so venerate but rather towards a philosophy of despotic control. Amongst the most promising of the four, ideology sets him at odds with the very tradition he is expected to uphold.

"I have perused your manuscript," Seonbi remarked, calm but measured. "While I marveled your critique of sagely rulers, I find it difficult to comprehend why merit and regal benevolence cannot exist in harmony."

Shan sipped his tea, the warmth of the liquid offering no solace to the coldness of his demeanor. The delicate clink of the lid as it met the porcelain seemed sharper, more deliberate. Though the concept of meritocracy had been known even before the formation of the ancient Earth Kingdom, many remained tethered to the age-old tradition of inherited power, especially kings, whose legitimacy are bound to bloodlines.

"Perhaps yours truly is blind, or perhaps it is the pride of moralists that serves as a veil, blinding all to the deeper truths. My arguments may be too complex for the common masses, but I do wonder, if some rulers are so benevolent toward their people, why does rebellion and chaos inevitably stir, both during and after their rule? Do they truly believe that fostering discord can benefit the people? Would it not be better for a ruler with absolute power to govern with singular devotion to the public good, irrespective of their lineage?"

The exchange was a respectful challenge, a contest of intellect between two learned men in the realms of philosophy and literature. Most scholars, especially in the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation, embraced the ideal of a ruler who embodied paternal benevolence, governing the people with care rather than coercion. This ideal, they argued, would secure the trust and peace of the people without the need for military force. But such idealism clashed with those who espoused a more forceful approach, and the debate between incompetent benevolence and efficient tyranny had been waged for millennia. Some claimed that excessive kindness bred weakness, paving the way for rebels and usurpers. Others contended that tyranny would ravage the state, threatening its ancient traditions and noble bloodlines.

"Our liege, Firelord Zuko, has exemplified grace and benevolence throughout his reign," Seonbi spoke fondly. "Even now in his elder years, we remember the peace he bestowed upon us after the ravages of war. For he is a gracious and benevolent monarch, willing to listen to the wise counsels of Fire Sages and ministers who seeks to serve the people. Compared to my own modest endeavors, his accomplishments will undoubtedly surpass anything I could ever hope to achieve."

"Yet," Shan countered. "Would it not be more prudent for the most capable to simply ascend to the top, regardless of their lineage? Even if a ruler is tyrannical, yours truly hold competence in higher regard than the notion that mere kindness can pacify a restless people." Shan's gaze locked with Seonbi's. "If you would indulge on this trivial matter for a moment, is a monarch who styles himself as righteous still virtuous if his hubris lays the foundation for future wars? The whims of naive youth may not always be wise, just as history is often unforgiving. And as one whose expertise lies in law rather than the morality of mere children, I cannot find much to commend in the crime of theft. Do you not agree, Seonbi the Poet?"

Seonbi ceased toying with the beads of his hat, recognizing the subtle challenge embedded in the White Scholar's words. The shadow of the Hundred Year War still loomed large, an unspoken taboo that no one in their right mind would dare bring it up lightly while savoring tea. Yet, in the realm of intellectual discourse, the paradox of the mightiest spear attempting to pierce the most indomitable shield is still quite a struggle.

Stealing is wrong, the wise elders around the world often say. But what about a ruler who disregards such moralities? Would it not be an irony of the highest order to bestow the mantle of righteousness upon leaders who behaves no better than a common thief?

"No need to dwell too deeply on such philosophical matters," Shan said, hands steady as he personally poured tea into Seonbi's cup with quiet grace. "You can ponder those on your journey back. After all, we as the literati must be afforded time to reflect. You see, many remain enamored with the idealized image of a righteous leader, both scholars and common folk alike. Sometimes, yours truly can't help but imagine how they picture such a figure, one that radiates a golden light, as though that glowing aura signifies an all-knowing mastery of human nature and the intricate webs of power itself."

Seonbi did not agree with Shan's assertion that a virtuous ruler need not possess some moral integrity. But, as with all men, they are products of their environment. A Fire Nation noble ensconced in the lavish comforts of their island home could scarcely fathom the horrors that some children of this war-torn realm endure. How could they comprehend the anguishing sight of innocent souls forced to crawl from under mountains of corpses, small hands struggling to grasp the very ground that is littered with the frozen faces of their family and friends.

"I understand the power of your thesis," Seonbi said. "And your critique of rulers who rely solely on benevolence is unyielding. But may I ask a question, one that might offend you?"

Shan gracefully waved his fan, willing to indulge in the poet's feeble attempts to unearth flaws in the White Scholar's eight-legged essay, which is now publicly displayed for all to scrutinize in the city. Straying boldly from the well-trodden doctrines of the Earth Sages, the White Scholar's thesis is a daring departure from tradition, unorthodox and intellectually provocative. It boldly challenged the entrenched notion that an idealized vision of benevolence could serve as a sufficient foundation for governing a realm, especially when divorced from the practical skills of competent rule. The White Scholar's discourse took particular aim at the deep-seated reverence for birthright, asserting that merit earned through capability must rise above mere lineage. In doing so, it directly undermined the moralists across the world, who held fast to the belief that the harmonious lineage of rulers is integral to the proper functioning of a kingdom. Above all, it is clear that Shan harbored little affection for the notion of a ruler treating their subjects like an extended family, preferring a more pragmatic and perhaps even impersonal approach to governance.

Seonbi sighed, understanding the subtler strategies employed in the debate. He courteously apologized, knowing the touchstone of their argument is more than just an intellectual exercise. It is a matter of worldviews, each shaped by contrasting experiences.

"While we differ, I believe we both hold the welfare of the common people dear," Seonbi said in the fashion of an approachable gentleman. "Before Firelord Zuko ascended to the throne, our people were ruled by despots who brought nothing but destruction. There was no benevolence, and I am certain the people of the world suffered needlessly. Can you not see how the world has changed under the reign of a righteous ruler?"

The White Scholar did not immediately concede to Seonbi's point. Nearly all Earth Sages would agree that Firelord Zuko is a far more reasonable ruler than his expansionist predecessors, exemplified by his compassionate treatment of the people. Yet, this argument for benevolence as the superior morality persisted in opposition to Shan's philosophy.

Shan closed his teacup with a gentle yet final touch, gaze meeting Seonbi's with a quiet intensity. He did not offer agreement, nor did he refute Seonbi's words outright.

"I consider you above those senile wise men who seek nothing more than to whisper sweet flattery into the ears of impressionable monarchs," Shan remarked, wielding both disdain and a rare respect. "But respect does not equate to blind admiration. It does not mean I'll have any love for those who pave the road to chaos with naive, ill-conceived intentions. You should know by now how little regard I have for monarchs, whether here or across the sea. Yours truly especially enjoy looking down at those who carry themselves no better than petty thieves awaiting the gallows. And before you try to use the countless massacres of the great war as a dividing line between tyrants and the sagely rulers you so admire, remember this one thing. I trust you'll pass it on to your esteemed friend as well."

Seonbi, ever the keen listener, absorbed every word not only for its meaning but for the unspoken layers beneath. Sometimes, the greatest scholars spoke not just in words, but in the spaces between them, thoughts wrapped in layers that only the perceptive could untangle. In this moment, the third person in the room felt as inconsequential as the dust beneath her feet.

"If the demise of those beyond the Fire Nation's borders meant anything to the Firelord you wish to emulate, remember this. It meant nothing to him, not enough, at least." The White Scholar's voice was unnervingly serene, too composed for anyone's comfort. Given that the people of the Fire Nation hold their monarchs in such reverence, one could only conclude that Shan is either supremely audacious or utterly indifferent to those who prize birthright over the unforgiving scale of merit. "You and I are no strangers to the turbulent history of the Four Nations. We've seen our share of vicious kings, and fools wearing crowns. The cruel rulers wage senseless wars, while the fools embark on disastrous ventures. But the self-righteous kings are perhaps the most dangerous of all. They cloak their cruelty and folly under the guise of noble intentions, waging war not for glory, but for delusions of righteousness. Had yours truly not already exhausted you with this uncreative line of thought, I would say there is nothing more detestable than rulers who impose decisions upon the masses, believing they act in the name of moral duty. Yet, such decisions only serve to inflate the egos of the powerful. Mark my words, the Earth Kingdom is rife with such figures, muddled further by the absence of Avatars capable of rivaling the legendary Szeto himself. Thus, yours truly believes that a ruler should not be guided by fleeting intuition or the fickle opinions of their subjects. No, a ruler must be steadfast, not swayed by vanity or the illusion of moral superiority. For vain, impressionable sovereigns are just as capable of igniting wars, all while claiming the mantle of righteousness."

For many, Avatar Szeto did not dabble in convoluted morality while the Fire Nation languished under the weight of famine, natural disasters, and the constant threat of noble clans threatening to tear his realm asunder. It was an affliction remarkably similar to the Earth Kingdom's present plight. If the lofty ideals of benevolence and righteousness were truly sufficient to calm such storms, one must ask, why did Firelord Yosor not wield these very tools to secure peace? Why was his reign overshadowed by the tenure of an Avatar?

"A worthy riposte, Shan," Seonbi remarked, setting his empty teacup aside with deliberate precision.

Before Mayumi could move to refill it, Shan had already offered to do so, his gesture once more reflecting a quiet courtesy even in the midst of philosophical disagreement over what qualities a ruler ought to prioritize. Perhaps the White Scholar found this Fire Nation poet a more suitable interlocutor for debates of such weight, preferring the insightful discourse of this client from across the Mo Ce Sea over the Earth Kingdom's stubbornly traditional Sages.

Yet, despite their respect for one another, both men clung fiercely to their ideals. Mayumi, observing the exchange with keen interest, felt as though she were peering into the very heart of a philosophical text, a debate that could only otherwise be encountered in the musty pages of ancient manuscripts.

"I know you're not just wandering the Four Nations for mere souvenirs, Seonbi. And I'm sure the folk of the Lower Ring are not the gentle type." Shan remarked, pouring the tea for his guest, sharp eyes catching the glint of a torn page the thesis hidden beneath Seonbi's crimson sleeves. "A word of advice, if you think it worthy of passing on. Only when a realm is unified, can there ever be true peace. While the Earth Kingdom is embroiled in its own strife, this does not mean we turn a blind eye to the turmoil beyond our shores."

After this subtle insinuation, Shan turned to Mayumi, requesting that she retrieve another piece of calligraphy from his bamboo backpack. It was a perfect replica of his famous eight-legged essay, penned with precision. As a Zhuangyuan ranked scholar, Shan's mind is a vault of such works. Reciting and writing his eight-legged essay word by word is not difficult feat.

"This one is for you, or for the one you serve," the White Scholar added, handing the delicate scroll to Seonbi.

Seonbi's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He thanked the White Scholar graciously, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt, questioning Shan's own moral compass.

"You are not as callous as many would have you believe, my esteemed fellow literati," he remarked, laced with an ironic warmth. "Perhaps in truth, you have also extended harshness to yourself."

At first, Shan offered no response, neither offense nor flattery as though the words passed by unnoticed. Yet, if there is one sentiment to which even his most cynical detractors might attest, it is his deep admiration for those who have risen from the ashes of obscurity.

"And yet, are a hypocrite," Shan retorted. "You readily debase your own achievements while lavishing praise upon those born with the gilded privilege of silver spoons." He handed over the parchment with a deliberate slowness. "Yours truly cannot help but wonder, will we one day find ourselves colleagues, even though you choose to stifle your own potential in service to those who owe their station to nothing more than fortune?"

Mayumi struggled to unravel the layers of praise veiled within this biting critique. While she could certainly appreciate the artful intricacies of scholarly discourse, she had to admit, it is often a labyrinth of meaning understood by the most seasoned minds.

Before the meeting's conclusion, Shan imparted a final thought to the guest from distant lands. While most would dismiss Seonbi as nothing more than a poet, naive to the wars and cruelties ravaging the mainland, those with a keener eye would study him with an intensity far more discerning.

"I am not a nepotist," Shan declared gravely. "But for the sake of both our futures, and especially yours, may the Firelord you so fervently revere make the right choice this time. And to me, oathbreakers are not meant to be trusted."

...

"That's the last of it," Mayumi muttered, inspecting the external frame of her pack. The contents had been carefully emptied, save for Shan's personal writing kit. The only destination now is the residence, for the scholar had expressed a sudden need to return home, intent on immersing himself once again in the disciplined world of calligraphy and painting.

The sun hung at its zenith, casting its harsh midday glare. Shan, ever frugal with his coin, had opted to forgo a meal at Pan Yue's restaurant.

"I deem Seonbi worth more than the senile sages, though he is the amongst the fiercest critic of my beliefs. Still, I wish no harm upon him." The White Scholar remarked as he walked ahead of Mayumi. "I can only hope that his unwavering support for the flawed concept of a so-called righteous ruler does not lead to his undoing."

The White Scholar held no reverence for spirits or deities, especially when it came to safeguarding the lives of his fellow scholars. As was true of most literati, his humble scholarly robes afforded no protection against the ignorance of brigands or the sharp edge of a weapon. While the Firelords ruled their domain unchallenged, it is naive to assume that courtly intrigues did not brew across the seas.

But such matters are not of immediate concern for folks in Ba Sing Se. For now, Mayumi, eager to showcase the skill she had honed for years, is focused on something far more practical. The White Scholar's kitchen, barren as it is, left her no choice but to propose a trip to a market. It was a suggestion to which he surprisingly consented.

"Very well, but don't tarry," Shan said, handing her his personal money pouch, an unexpected gesture considering it is still her first day working for him. "The cost of food in the Middle Ring is steep, more so than where you've come from. Use this with care. You may source your ingredients wherever you see fit."

"But it's your money," Mayumi protested, brow furrowed. "Aren't you worried I might—"

"You may try," the White Scholar interrupted. "But even should you break my trust, remember, this city's laws are unforgiving. Even the most heartless of thieves, those who would betray their own kin, will face their reckoning."

Reluctantly, Mayumi accepted the pouch, the weight of Shan's confidence in the city's justice bearing down on her. The same pouch contained the day's earnings, a testament to the scholar's belief that the rule of law, not morality, governed this world.

They parted ways, and Mayumi made her way to the Lower Ring market with surprising eagerness. Despite her upbringing as a warrior, trained since childhood, her culinary skills are nothing to be underestimated. Which is also an art she had perfected on Kyoshi Island.

The air was thick with the calls of vendors hawking their wares. Though much of the fresh produce had already been claimed by noon, what remained is still ample enough to craft a meal of merit.

She passed by the stalls where the rawest ingredients were on display. The Lower Ring's proximity to the Agrarian Zone ensured that the food here are ironically fresher than what could be found in the Middle and Upper Rings. Nowhere was this truer than in the case of fish and seafood.

"How much for this grass carp?" Mayumi inquired, gesturing to a glistening fish nestled on a bed of ice.

Her years of preparing ohaw soup and citatap had sharpened her ability to select the freshest ocean fare. Each piece of fish was inspected with meticulous care, a skill passed down from her mother. Broken scales and torn fins are subtle indicators that others might overlook.

"Five copper pieces," the fishmonger replied, eager to justify the price. "This variety is highly sought after in the Upper Ring, perfect for the renowned West Lake Vinegar Fish."

Mayumi stifled a sharp retort, her thoughts racing with frustration. The price is obscene. Not even the freshest salmon from Kyoshi Island would fetch such an extortionate sum, and many folks in her village still use barter and currency shells.

With a resigned sigh, she accepted the reality of this city's prices. One of the few perks of working at Jin's restaurant was the constant access to free food and leftover ingredients, but here, the cost of ingredients is another matter entirely. Compared to the Water Tribe's seafarers, Earth Kingdom fishermen could never rival their scale or mastery of the ocean. The Water Tribe's benders could summon entire schools of fish with a single movement of their hands."

"Are you buying, or not?" the fishmonger demanded, his patience clearly thinning. "I sell the freshest fish in the city, take it or leave it!"

Mayumi paused, her thoughts tangled in a dilemma. Her status as the eldest daughter of a village chief or as the strongest Kyoshi Warrior, meant little in the bustling, indifferent city. She could haggle, but what would it accomplish? Perhaps egg fried rice, a humble dish, is beneath Shan's station. Yet, for all the wealth of the Upper Ring, the finer palates seemed to demand that the simplest dishes be crafted with the utmost care and precision.

As she debated, a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Excuse me," a warm, female voice called out. "My name is Huo. I'm a bit lost, do you happen to know where the Hong Xiuquan teahouse is located in the Lower Ring?"

Mayumi turned, her instincts trained to assist those in need. But as her eyes fell upon the woman, a jolt of recognition froze her in place. The dark raven hair, the crimson garment hidden beneath. Mayumi's breath caught in her throat.

"I-is everything all right?" the woman asked, concern in her voice, as if unaware of the silent tension that had gripped Mayumi.

In an instant, the Kyoshi Warrior felt the cold weight of the metal fans strapped to her robe, the urge to strike surging through her like a reflex. A single, two slashes across this woman's neck and it would be done. It would mark the first time she would take a life, but the thought lingered only for a moment before she regained control.

"I don't know," Mayumi responded with unflinching honesty, fighting the urge to betray her seething glare.

The Lower Ring sprawled before her, a vast labyrinth of overgrown buildings and winding alleyways stretching many li across the land. Yet, the expanse of this district mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

It is the kidnapper, the renegade, the bandit that consumed her thoughts. Why had she dared to show her face within the fortified walls of Ba Sing Se? After narrowly escaping execution at the hands of the Kheshig nomads, how had this fanatic evaded capture once more?

The very notion demanded an explanation, one so complete and irrefutable that even Master Tenzin, who had sworn to escort the criminal westward would owe her an answer.

Her fingers tightened around the cold, unforgiving steel of the twin metal fans concealed within her sleeves. A swift strike to the Firebender's neck from both sides would suffice. Whatever transpired next, she would leave it to the spirits.

"Mum, I want that snack!" A small boy's voice pierced her thoughts. He is no older than four.

Beyond him, the market bustled with life, its vendors and patrons unperturbed, blissfully ignorant of the violence brewing within their midst.

"Very well, then, sorry to have disturbed you," the woman with dark, flowing hair replied politely before turning to walk down a side street.

Mayumi hesitated, torn between the urge to exact swift vengeance herself and the possibility of entrusting justice to powers far beyond her reach. In the city's heart, there is supposed to be order and peace. She had trusted others to dispense justice before, yet somehow, this reckless woman had slipped free, escaping the very hand of fate that had nearly claimed her.

Surely, Ba Sing Se would never hold her accountable for the death of a single body. After all, the Kheshig had taught her a valuable lesson in survival. When the family is at risk, sometimes blood must be spilled.

"Hey!" barked the fishmonger, irritation coloring his voice. "If you're not buying, move aside!"

...

The door to Shan's chamber creaked open, heralding his emergence. The White Scholar, having concluded his latest literary or artistic endeavors, finally deemed it time to break his fast. He descended the stone steps, strolling along the winding path before taking his place upon one of the courtyard's stationary stone chairs.

As if summoned by some unspoken cue, Mayumi appeared from the neglected kitchen, carefully bearing a steaming pot of fish stew. Its contents, still boiling, exuded a potent fragrance that serves as an unmistakable reminder of the sea.

She observed the scholar as he retrieved a silver spoon and stirred the concoction. A subtle grimace played upon his features, displaying the discomfort the dish seemed to cause him.

"Is this… fish?" he inquired in a voice tinged with an uncharacteristic tremor, a rare flicker of apprehension that Mayumi found both curious and unsettling. Of all the formidable figures he had confronted, from the great households of the Upper Ring to stubborn patriarchs, it is the humble fish stew that seemed to rattle him so.

Mayumi, ever poised, answered with careful neutrality. "Indeed. Is there an issue?"

"No, not at all," he replied quickly, but still with unease.

In an even more surprising gesture, Shan permitted Mayumi to share the table with him, an act almost unheard of among the Upper Ring's nobility. She couldn't discern whether it was born from some latent suspicion that the food might be tainted with poison or simply from a desire to avoid emulating the rigid codes of conduct espoused by the Earth Sages, who rigorously maintained that servants should never dine with their masters.

Shan, despite his evident revulsion, did not set the silver spoon down. He began to consume the stew using the expensive utensil to deliver each bite, seemingly an act of self-discipline in the face of his evident discomfort. Though the scholar had once asserted that any sustenance would suffice, it is clear now that he might regret not specifying his preferences.

With the faintest wince, he forced himself to swallow a piece of the fish fillet. Straining his face while suppressing the instinctive urge to spit it out. It was a discomfiting sight, this is the first time Mayumi had witnessed the White Scholar subjected to such a form of torment, with dignity slowly being stripped away with each reluctant mouthful.

"You don't have to force yourself," Mayumi suggested, though her words fell upon deaf ears. Shan is not only unrelenting toward those who have wronged him, but this gentleman is also stubborn to an almost maddening degree. He seems to believe that the rigid adherence to strict principles should extend even to the most trivial matters. It's not that he's trying to be cruel or unkind, rather, he is determined not to make allowances for his own actions, no matter how small the issue at hand.

Despite offering to prepare an alternative, likely free of seafood, the White Scholar remained steadfast in his decision to finish his meal. This behavior is a rarity among most Upper Ring scions, who would almost certainly have requested the kitchen whip up something else to their liking.

Considering a Zhuangyuan is no ordinary scholar. It is a prestigious title bestowed upon the brightest minds, placing them near the pinnacle of the city's social hierarchy, rising to become illustrious officials and admired by people and courted by monarchs. Some even won the privilege of marrying princesses from royal bloodlines. Given such great expectations, it feels somewhat anticlimactic to witness the latest Zhuangyuan, seemingly tortured by his own aversion to fish, the very food he despises most.

"You performed the task as directed," he said, attempting to restore some semblance of his usual austere demeanor despite evident disgust. "The funds were allocated appropriately. If the consequences of our actions can be avoided by the capricious whims of wealth and status, how then can the common folk rely on justice? In the world envisioned by myself, and my esteemed predecessors, nobles and commoners alike must be held to equal account. Thus, should I ever commit a transgression of great magnitude, I too shall submit to the punishments commensurate with my actions." He continued to eat, forcing another spoonful of fish into his mouth, all the while as Mayumi silently pondered his unflinching devotion to the philosophy that harshly counters the compassionate teachings of the Earth Sages. It is a rare sight for an Upper Ring citizen, one who should scorn the food of commoners, punishing himself without exemption.

As he struggled to finish the bowl of stew, a task that Mayumi had effortlessly completed, a question suddenly lodged itself in the scholar's mind, pulling him from his internal battle.

"Shan, would you ever delegate justice to another?" she asked. "If someone harmed you or your loved ones, and there was no one you could trust to enact retribution, what would you do?"

Shan paused the elegant eating, his silver spoon hovering above the bowl as he considered the query. He is accustomed to dismantling the rhetoric of the Earth Sages, whose doctrines he could deconstruct with ease. But this question, posed by the Kyoshi Warrior, caught him off slightly guard. Although quite simple by nature, it did require more thought than he had expected.

"The state," he began slowly. "Should be the ultimate arbiter of justice. Without proper order and security, neither rewards nor punishments can be meted out fairly. Whether swift executions or harsh imprisonment, all must be handled with precision and oversight. Considering you hail from beyond the city, I must emphasize that it is paramount that the laws of Ba Sing Se be respected, no matter how harsh it may be compared to the chaos plaguing the rest of this warring realm."

Beneath the stone table and hidden from Shan's view, Mayumi clenched both fists, her mind a swirl of uncertainty at the weight of his words. Judging by his unyielding nature and likely more inclined to punish hostile renegades than those under the tutelage of the Earth Sages, she can't deny that the scholar is no warrior. Within the towering walls of the city, his world operates under different rules, a great contrast to the one she has known where survival often relies on strength and haste.

"And... what if I wanted someone dead?" Mayumi asked, understanding the risks of that question. "If there are those who sought to harm me or my sister?"

Shan's gaze sharpened, and he took a slow sip of tea before answering. "Harsh laws should naturally protect those who abide by them. So long as you have nothing to hide from the state, there should be no cause for persecution."

Mayumi's muscles tensed imperceptibly, a chill creeping down the spine as her mind drifted to the haunting tales her mother had whispered right before departing their home island. Stories of the shadows that festered deep within the very heart of this city, a dark legacy left behind by their formidable matriarch that taught their ancestors the ways of combat. It is a legacy that many senior Kyoshi Warriors or elders rarely dared to speak of, as though speaking of their name might invoke some kind of cursed presence. Even across the vast ocean, the custodians and disciples of the great Avatar's home sought nothing more than to obliterate any trace of what they considered the ultimate dishonor. Mayumi could sacrifice her own reputation without hesitation, but history had taught her a crucial lesson. Those same shadows within Ba Sing Se, as mysterious as they may be, are not to be trusted. Just because they may share the same root, this does not mean reliable allies in any sense of the word.

"Yours truly suppose it isn't simple," Shan continued. "But I do commend your resolve to familiarize yourself with the law, given your humble origins as a performer. Standing on a stage, in front of a crowd of strangers requires great fortitude. To wear a thousand faces, each one for a different role, that is no small feat."

"It's a skill I honed through practice," Mayumi replied gently, masking the twinge of unease. "If the role we play is truly who we are, then it can be used to help those we cherish."

"For instance?" Shan pressed.

"Like being an older sibling, and a vital part of a family," Mayumi began, eyes lighting with quiet pride. "I have a sister who is studying at the university and would do whatever possible to support her. I've never worked in a kitchen, nor have I been anyone's serv... I mean retainer. But knowing that my actions benefit my sister, that's enough for me."

As Satchiko relentlessly pursued mastery over Earthbending, Mayumi knew it was her solemn duty as the firstborn to ensure her sister's success. The path ahead might require sacrifices, even if it meant engaging in deeds that could be deemed dishonorable, actions marked by the stark white paint that often adorned their faces when dressed as Kyoshi Warriors. That paint, a symbol of their fierce dedication, also serves as a reminder that the world they navigate isn't always bound by honor or righteousness. In the pursuit of their goals, sometimes the line between right and wrong was blurred, and Mayumi is prepared to walk it if it meant securing her sister's safety.

Unconvinced by what was spoken by this newly hired retainer, Shan pressed further. "While it is noble to help others, is that truly your only motive? If you abandoned your former life simply to ensure your sister's success, what do you stand to gain from it?"

Mayumi paused. The question, though straightforward, was an affront to her sense of familial duty. She had been raised to protect her kin, to sacrifice for them without question. In her eyes, his mere suggestion alone was a great insult to her honor.

Sensing the growing silence, Shan added, "You may be the elder, but your sister is the one studying under the tutelage of great sages. Are you not concerned that one day she will surpass you? Not many would accept being overshadowed by their younger sibling. Though life within Ba Sing Se is peaceful, and inheritance dispute are confined within petty squabbles, the familial relations I heard from beyond this sanctuary hasn't been the most flattering."

The question lingered in the air, and Mayumi took a moment to reflect. Her answer, when it came, was firm.

"Even if she somehow outshines me, it's fine," Mayumi said, accompanied by a faint, knowing smile. Her thoughts drifted back to the very day her sister had entered the world, the beginning of their shared journey. "That's what family is for, helping each other in times of need. It's about sacrifices, about giving without expecting anything in return."

The sound of a hand gripping the silver spoon risen slightly. It was gone the moment her blue eyes shifted to Shan.

"While I may not fully agree with your answer, it is nonetheless serviceable," he said, though there was little satisfaction in the voice. "We all wear masks, do we not? Even the sincerest among us has secrets they dare not reveal, not even to those closest to them."

A lifetime spent in the Upper Ring had sharpened Shan's ability to detect deceit and false gratitude, a skill Mayumi couldn't fault him for. After all, the denizens of great cities often wore masks of politeness and words laced with insincerity, in contrast to the straightforward, simple-minded folk of small villages whose names didn't even grace the maps. But as for Mayumi, she never overlooks the goodness in others, no matter how veiled it might be. And if there is as one thing she is certain of when it came to Shan, it is his unyielding stubbornness, rivaling the unwavering hatred of seafood.

Shan placed his silver spoon back on the table, the meal finally complete. Mayumi's gaze lingered on him, surprised that he had finished it at all.

"I find this stew… nourishing," he said without showing fear. Though it's possible he was not referring to the flavor, but rather to the fact that Mayumi had fulfilled her task without overstepping her bounds like earlier. It was an odd and almost reassuring compliment, one that suggested that perhaps Shan's meritocratic ideals does allow for some semblance of benevolence?

With a final glance at Mayumi, Shan rose from the stone chair. "For the remainder of the evening, there is nothing specific for you to do," he announced. "Yours truly does not wish to be disturbed during my hours of partaking in scholarly endeavors. I shall see at dinner. In the meanwhile, you are free to attend to any matters you wish."

Mayumi nodded but quickly halted him before he could leave. "I may not return tonight," she said. "There is something personal I must attend to."

Shan raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be, Takeko?"

"I wish to help my sister," Mayumi replied simply. "Do you know where Hong Xiuquan's teahouse is?"

For a brief, weighty moment, the entire courtyard fell into a profound silence. Even the birds, usually carefree in their songs seemed to sense the stillness, as though compelled to seal their beaks in respect to the quiet that had settled over the space.

Shan's expression betrayed no change, though he cautioned her. "The city may be a safe haven amidst this era of endless conflict, but that does not mean I would encourage reckless ventures after dark."

End of Chapter Notes:

-The word Seonbi mainly describes scholars from the Joseon Kingdom that does not government posts. However, they can still take up roles in society while upholding Confucian virtues such as filial piety and modesty.

-The name Li Wa's White Peony is a combination two different tales.