Yue Yang smiled.

At the sight of that particular smile — the one that announced something was coming — Chimu took it more or less in stride. Mingzhu, on the other hand, gave him a look that could have stripped paint.

The more visibly annoyed people became, the better Yue Yang’s mood tended to get. He didn’t dial it back. He dialed it up. “Young Lord Mingzhu — don’t tell me you came all the way here to invite me to dinner? I’m not an easy man to move, I want you to know. Most people couldn’t get me to accept an invitation if they tried. But you look very close to crying, so out of the goodness of my heart, I’ll grant you the rare privilege of paying for my meal.”

“By that logic,” Mingzhu said, “I’m supposed to thank you?”

“If the gratitude is too much to contain, just introduce me to your sister. Consider it a tribute in kind.”

Chimu stared at him as though he had materialized from a different plane of existence.

“I have come to the conclusion,” Mingzhu said, with the tone of someone arriving at a deeply reluctant truth, “that every person in this world combined, all their shamelessness pooled together, would not fill one of your fingers.”

“That’s one of my better qualities,” Yue Yang agreed readily, adding that he had many others, and that they would require extended acquaintance to fully appreciate.

“I genuinely cannot understand it.” Mingzhu shook his head. “How does someone like you produce a Sacred-tier artifact quill pen? How do you earn a teacher’s unconditional adoration? There are moments when I think a pig has more dignity than you do. At least a pig wouldn’t climb up onto a central exhibition platform and subject itself to ridicule.”

He had apparently learned who Yue Yang was — a newcomer at Silver Maple City’s Heavenly Pride Wanderer’s Academy — and had apparently also learned about the Sacred-tier quill pen project.

“Ah, Titan — can you walk us through your thinking? How does one arrive at the idea of elevating a quill pen to Sacred tier?” Chimu’s curiosity was fully engaged.

“Is there something wrong with that approach?” Yue Yang asked, with complete absence of self-reflection.

“A wondrous Sacred-tier quill pen,” Mingzhu said crisply. “A genuinely impressive piece of work. Unfortunately, one of entirely no practical value — beautiful on the surface, hollow within, an act of flattery dressed up as craftsmanship.”

“Respecting one’s teachers is the most basic standard of a good student.”

“If you’re a good student,” Chimu said, finally reaching his limit, “then I’m the greatest student who has ever lived.”

“Whether one is a good student is for teachers to decide, is it not?” Yue Yang regarded Chimu with open disdain. “If no one has ever handed you a thousand-crystal award, or even offered you a word of oral praise, please refrain from casually claiming the title of good student.” Someone like Chimu — obviously talented, obviously proud of it, carrying that particular brand of minor rebellion that made teachers quietly grind their teeth — would naturally never receive the kind of devoted attention a model student like Mingzhu attracted. This was simply the natural order.

“I have received teacher praise!” Chimu protested vigorously. Whatever his feelings about being a model student, he absolutely refused to be looked down upon.

“Really?” Yue Yang didn’t deny it — but the expression on his face said how is that possible for someone like you with complete legibility. Chimu nearly walked into a wall.

“It has happened. Once.” Even Mingzhu stepped in, offering the small concession reluctantly.

“Memory error, perhaps?” Yue Yang probed.

“I am generally confident in my memory,” Mingzhu said.

“Very well. I’ll take your word for it.”

Chimu collapsed.

If there had been a crack in the floor, he would have crawled into it and remained there for a hundred years without complaint. The most devastating part was that Mingzhu had accidentally assisted in the whole operation, and the effect had been Chimu being very efficiently flattened from two directions simultaneously, which produced a specific kind of suffering that defied straightforward expression.

While this was unfolding, a group of older figures approached from a distance — the Principal and several companions, walking together at an easy pace.

Among them was an elder whose beard and hair had gone snow-white, whose entire bearing carried a quality of profound, airy detachment — as though he might simply rise from the ground and drift on the wind if he chose. His features bore a resemblance to the Thousand-Year Great Sage, and the aura around him — that deep still quality belonging to someone who has comprehended so much knowledge that wisdom has become as natural as breathing — matched the Great Sage’s in every respect.

The others deferred to this man. The Principal included. They arranged themselves in a loose half-arc around this white-bearded elder as they walked, talking and laughing together with comfortable ease.

The white-bearded elder glanced toward the Silver Maple City exhibition hall entrance and spotted the three of them immediately. His face brightened. “Perfect timing — I was just thinking I’d like a word with you. Saves me the trouble of finding you.”

Chimu and Mingzhu both straightened and bowed. “Chairman.”

Yue Yang didn’t need the title explained. This was the current presiding head of the Heavenly Pride Wanderer’s Academy system — the Chairman of the Heavenly Pride Wanderers’ Association, the figure who oversaw all such institutions throughout Human Valley.

His original name had long since passed beyond common knowledge. Twenty-thousand-plus years had elapsed since his arrival, and no one outside his oldest surviving contemporaries still knew what he had been called. What was known: from the moment the ancient divine beings had established Human Valley as a trial ground, the Heavenly Pride Wanderer’s Academy had existed alongside it. The first chairman who had built the institution had been known as the Heavenly Pride Elder, and every subsequent chairman had inherited that title — a practice maintained to honor the founders and preserve the school’s founding purpose.

“You’re the interesting young Titan I’ve been hearing about,” the white-bearded Chairman said, clapping Yue Yang on the shoulder with a laugh that filled the space around him. “Young in years, but apparently you do things with some flair. For a long time I believed we’d never see another challenger surpass your mother. And then she turned out to have a son who’s every bit as remarkable.”

“I have a long way to go before I reach her level,” Yue Yang replied, with perfect modesty and appropriate deference — the full performance of the model student, executed without visible effort.

Put it on all you like, Mingzhu thought, in furious silence. I know exactly what you are.

“There is a gap, yes — but your mother’s ambitions were never fixed on this place. She had higher aims. Perhaps she came here only to clear a path for you. Perhaps she came to verify something she had already comprehended. Who can say?” The Chairman paused, then continued warmly. “Whatever her reasons — you’re here now, and you should make the most of it. Surpass her if you can. Claim every achievement available to you.” He then added, with a smile: “That Sacred-tier quill pen project of yours — very creative. If you can find a way to translate the underlying principle into constructs and battle puppets, that would be something exceptional indeed.”

“I’ll work toward that,” Yue Yang said.

Inside, he was cataloguing every scrap of information the Chairman had let fall about “Mother.”

The Chairman turned to the other two. “I look forward to what you’ll show us at the Assessment Ceremony, both of you. Chimu, Mingzhu — you’ve already graduated, but graduating is only the beginning. I expect good things. Don’t get comfortable.” A small encouragement, easy in delivery. Mingzhu received it with composure, though something moved behind his eyes. Chimu’s eyes went red at the rims, and he spent a visible amount of effort not disgracing himself with tears on the spot.

“Yes, Chairman.” He bowed deeply.

By the time he straightened, the Chairman and the Principal had already moved inside, conversation continuing without interruption.

The moment his elders disappeared through the door, Yue Yang’s impeccable student performance evaporated completely. He reverted without perceptible transition.

Mingzhu shook his head. The speed of it was almost impressive. This person was some category of expert deceiver that probably didn’t have a name yet.

What was more privately galling was that the Chairman had clearly regarded this deceiver with the warmest interest of anyone present. Mingzhu wrestled with a small internal grievance before deciding to express it as a helpful observation: “Titan — have you considered taking that Sacred-tier quill pen project of yours and converting it into a construct? It obviously can’t go to war. But perhaps a construct scribe for a library — sitting there copying texts diligently — might have some merit? What do you think?”

“I would never waste it on something so dull.” Yue Yang waved the suggestion off. “A Sacred-tier quill pen belongs in the hands of a beautiful woman, obviously. A cold mechanical construct can’t be looked at and can’t be appreciated — what would be the point?” He settled into the thought with evident pleasure. “Picture it properly: a completely bare beauty, nothing on her at all except a Sacred-tier quill pen, sitting right across from you, bent over her copying work in total concentration — and she absolutely cannot stop, because if she fails to complete her assigned work, well, that creates a very legitimate basis for administering appropriate correction to a certain relevant area of her person—”

Chimu’s agreement was immediate and absolute, but the look on Mingzhu’s face froze him before he could voice it.

Mingzhu’s expression was the expression of a person who had known this answer was coming, has confirmed that yes, this answer has arrived, and is updating his permanent record of the speaker accordingly.

“The ancients said it plainly: appetite and beauty are human nature. Young Lord Mingzhu — dare you claim that the sight of a beautiful woman’s undergarments leaves your heart unmoved?”

Yue Yang had moved in very close, and his face projected the serene confidence of a man raising an entirely reasonable point that only a person of questionable honesty could dispute.

“I’ll move your head,” Mingzhu said. Whatever remained of his composure had been located and removed.

“He’s incredible,” Chimu said, in genuine awe. “I’ve never once seen anyone speak to Mingzhu like this.”

“Silence,” said Mingzhu.

“I’m a mute, I’m a mute,” Chimu said immediately, clamping both hands over his mouth.

“Oh,” said Yue Yang, with sudden illumination, snapping his fingers and pointing. “I understand completely now. You’ve never experienced a woman. You don’t know what you’re missing — you live in the private imagination, curious but too embarrassed to admit it, simmering away on the inside while maintaining a perfectly dignified exterior. That’s it exactly, isn’t it? Young Lord Mingzhu, there’s truly no need to be embarrassed — I was in that situation once myself. But the moment I left that pitiable condition behind, I underwent a complete transformation and became a man in the fullest sense. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll sacrifice a little comfort and take you on a double outing — two beauties, working together, to conclusively end your current unfortunate situation—”

Chimu’s jaw was open wide enough to accommodate a small amphibian.

Mingzhu’s face, normally possessed of all the warmth and finish of fine jade, had gone dark. In his entire life he had never been this angry. The final phrase in particular — end your current unfortunate situation — had found the one remaining thread of rational thought and severed it cleanly.

“Do you have anything further to say?” Mingzhu asked, in the tone of a man extending a final courtesy.

“Once you’ve tasted what you’ve been missing, you’ll understand what it means to be a man,” Yue Yang said cheerfully, his expression carefully communicating please, don’t be overwhelmed by gratitude.

“Anything else?”

“We don’t know each other very well yet, but I’ve decided I like your face. So I’ll teach you a few things as a special favor. As someone in your particular situation, there are naturally techniques you haven’t had occasion to master — starting with the basics, which are considerably more technically demanding than most people realize. The removal alone requires a level of nuanced expertise that only a practitioner of exceptional experience, such as myself, can execute without incident—”

“Can we leave the undergarments out of this,” Mingzhu said, “for five consecutive seconds?”

“Undergarments are deeply important. In the right moment they can save the world and uphold the cause of peace and justice.”

“…How, exactly,” Chimu said, helplessly, all pretense of restraint gone, “does an undergarment save the world?”

“That is a long story. Across at least ten distinct historical periods there are recorded legends—”

“Tell me. Tell me right now.”

“I’m hungry,” said Yue Yang.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go eat — my treat — I insist—” Chimu was already moving, desperate to hear the conclusion of this cosmological theory.

“I’m not accustomed to being treated. Particularly when the person’s sincerity feels uncertain.”

Chimu bowed from the waist with a depth and formality that exceeded what he had offered the Chairman. “Please. I am begging you.”

“All right, fine.” Yue Yang allowed himself to be prevailed upon.

“Am I invisible to you both—”

Mingzhu did not finish the sentence. A hammer of considerable size materialized from somewhere, was raised high, and descended. Yue Yang hit the floor. Mingzhu swung horizontally without pausing. Chimu, who had been attempting to flee, connected with the wall and embedded himself into it in a spread-eagle configuration of notable completeness.

The entire Silver Maple City exhibition hall shuddered.

Upstairs, elderly heads appeared at windows.

They observed Mingzhu below, hammer over one shoulder, dragging Yue Yang by the collar with every apparent intention of disposing of him as one disposes of inconvenient rubbish. Across the courtyard, Chimu had detached from the wall and collapsed into a twitching heap — only to be immediately seized by the trouser leg by a cat-shaped puppet beast of adorable exterior and implacable purpose, which proceeded to drag him in the direction its master had gone.

The Chairman watched all of this with great amusement.

“Ah, the energy of youth,” he said, waving a hand. “Nothing to be done about it. Come, let’s continue — I believe I have one more bottle of that Qilan vintage somewhere.”

(End of Chapter)