New Vistas to Inspire

A waft of the village's burgeoning street food culture curled through the thronging market, weaving its way past stalls teeming with trinkets and merchants hawking their wares, and found itself caught in the delicate snare of Xiangcui's false mustache. It twirled there for a moment before being dismissed by the dismissive flutter of her hand, an attempt to maintain the ruse of masculinity. Chengyu leaned against a shadowed awning, watching with a concealed smile as Xiangcui navigated the stream of people, her gait awkward in the boots too large for her feet.

"Your disguise," he began, as she approached, his voice betraying amusement, "is as convincing as a cat donning a dog's collar."

Xiangcui rolled her eyes beneath the brim of her hat, a poor fit that threatened to swallow her whole. "It seemed prudent at the time," she murmured, her voice a low drawl, crafted for deceit.

"Anyway," Chengyu replied, extending a hand in greeting, "I'm glad you've agreed to accompany me." He watched, not without warmth, as her slender fingers slipped from the gloves too wide for her hands to shake his own. "Lord Hongli has kindly filled our coffers for this search," he shared, watching the surprise flicker across her features.

"Lord Hongli?" Xiangcui echoed, disbelief coloring her tone. "The same who commands the Chang'an Palace by the lake? The man who controls our humble village?"

Is that what that place is called? Chengyu mused, reveling in his ignorance. In this world, that once terrible word only meant he had more to learn.

"The very one," he affirmed. "It was by sheer fate that I saved Yuehua from a nefarious plot within his walls." He paused, savoring the memory of that night; the heady aroma of poison nearly masked by the sweet wine she'd downed with the meal, the lengths which he'd gone to preserve not only her life, but his. "Yuehua's life hung by a thread," he continued, the weight of that moment still heavy on his tongue, "and it looks like my intervention earned me a generous benefactor."

"Fortune favors the bold, then," Xiangcui mused, her curious gaze locked onto Chengyu's face, seeking the truth behind his words.

With a nod, Chengyu unfurled the map they were to use—a parchment imbued with Yuehua's meticulous care. Lines of ink traced the sinews of the village, marking each house like veins upon a leaf. They moved together through the hustle, their shoulders brushing occasionally, as they sought those marked as potential allies. Yet as they ventured from door to door, the air thickened with disappointment. No one had a decent herbal knowledge, and most were unwilling to venture into the woods to find them.

"Perhaps," Xiangcui sighed, her voice tinged with frustration as another villager shook their head, unwilling or unable to join their cause, "Yuehua's optimism was misplaced."

"Or perhaps," Chengyu countered, his eyes tracing the lines on the map, as though willing them to reveal some hidden secret, "we simply have yet to find the right person."

"Someone both interested and competent seems as rare as a summer snow," Xiangcui grumbled, the map rustling in her hands.

"Then we'll look for someone curious enough to become competent," Chengyu stated, more to himself than to Xiangcui. His gaze lingered on the scribbles Yuehua had made, small annotations of character and skill beside each name and dwelling.

"Curiosity did kill the cat," Xiangcui quipped, tucking the map away, her lips curving into a smirk that belied her fading hope.

"Ah, but satisfaction brought it back," Chengyu replied, the flicker of a challenge lighting his eyes. "Let's press on. Our herbalist is out there, somewhere amid this web of streets."

They continued, undeterred by the tedium of their quest, driven by an unseen force that seemed to whisper through the village, urging them forward in their search. The sun dipped lower, casting elongated shadows that danced mockingly at their feet, a silent reminder that time, much like the villagers' interest, was slipping through their fingers.

The undulating hills rolled out before Chengyu and Xiangcui like a verdant sea, whispers of grass brushing against their legs with intimate familiarity. They ventured beyond the familiar cacophony of village life, where the clamor of metal and the scent of frying oils gave way to the open air's subtle orchestra.

"Look there," Xiangcui murmured, her gaze fixed on the horizon where an impromptu settlement had breached the earth. Horses, proud and unburdened, were tethered to wooden posts, and tents with heavily embroidered canvas covers stood like dappled mushrooms after rain. The scene was so abruptly alien that it caused Chengyu's step to falter.

"What kind of people might be out here?" he wondered aloud.

"Foreigners," Xiangcui said, her voice tinged with the thrill of the unusual. She moved ahead, confidence in her stride as they approached the encampment. "They weren't here last week. Newcomers are often the most overlooked source of knowledge. We should be the first to greet them."

Chengyu reflected, allowing his thoughts to drift along the current of possibility. The tents stood, silently guarding secrets yet untold.

"However… Where would we even knock?" Xiangcui's eyes darted from flap to flap, seeking an entrance, or at least the semblance of one. 

Chenyu pointed to a central tent larger than the rest. Intuition said it had to be the one facing away from the village, but Xiangcui's response was knowledgeable.

She pointed to a smaller one with an entrance hardly taller than her. "Perhaps here. If they follow any tradition of hierarchy, this is where the leader resides. The smallest, to keep him humble. The central is used for communal purposes and lounging." His hand hovered over a stout wooden post that seemed as good a knocker as any in the absence of a door.

"Well-informed," Chengyu begrudgingly admitted. He brought his hand up and rapped against the wood, the fabric entrance fluttered aside with unexpected swiftness, revealing a figure whose sudden appearance snatched his breath away. "Hua!"

Startled by each other's presence, they pointed at one another and laughed.

"Chengyu! And… I believe I know you the markets. Xiangcui, was it?" Hua greeted them with a grin wide enough to harbor secrets of its own. His presence here was as confounding as a riddle wrapped in an enigma.

"What are you doing here?" Chengyu's words stumbled out, his curiosity piqued by Hua's inexplicable location. "I thought you were entertaining at the palace."

"Ah, the Shurli name hails from a line of humble wanderers," Hua began, sweeping an arm towards the constellation of tents that represented his world. "My clan, we are all storytellers, musicians. We make our home wherever the road takes us, bound by contracts with lords eager for our tales and tunes." He chuckled, the sound dancing on the wind. "Trade, too," he continued, his dark eyes glinting with mirth. "I could find you a wife from distant lands if you fancy, my friend. A dark-haired beauty whose eyes hold stories you've never heard."

"Your offer is generous," Chengyu replied, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in amusement. Replying with a formality unbecoming of him, "but I fear such a tale is not mine to live."

No, marriage would have to wait. He was a man on a mission now. Maybe in another life, a lesser version of himself would have eagerly accepted, but here, his heart was tethered to different pursuits, visions of herbs and healing etched into its chambers like a canyon. But if he wound up unable to go home, he figured he would hold Hua to the offer sooner or later.0

"Then what story have you come to weave with us?" Hua tilted his head, ever the inquisitive soul.

"Actually," Chengyu hesitated, a plan unfurling in his mind's eye, delicate as the wings of a butterfly, "we're looking for someone with a thirst for knowledge, someone who might be willing to learn the art of herbalism. The lord sent us out on a mission to establish a better apothecary presence in town, and I must say, with how old Xiuqin seems, it's a good idea."

"Herbalism, you say?" Hua rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Now, that's a narrative twist I didn't see coming. But, come in, come in!" Hua's voice pierced the air with an unexpected invitation that left Chengyu and Xiangcui exchanging puzzled glances. Yet curiosity led them past the threshold of fabric flaps masquerading as doors.

Stepping inside, they encountered a labyrinth of woven walls—a tapestry town beneath canvas skies. The carpets made tunnels that lead further into the makeshift, self-enclosed city. The hum of lively conversation reverberated against the vibrant textiles, and a symphony of scents from simmering pots beckoned them deeper into this nomadic heartland. It was a kaleidoscope of life, each tent flap lifting to reveal another scene, another story.

"Sit, share our table," urged a woman from the throng, her face creased with the roadmap of countless smiles. She had an undeniable beauty, so Hua's mother, perhaps? She gestured toward a low wooden table laden with steaming bowls and fresh bread.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Chengyu said, nodding his head in gratitude as he took a seat beside Xiangcui and one of Hua's several sisters, who paid him little regard. He had seen so many dashing about, and at this point, he would have believed that they wouldn't have realized if there was a stranger who had wandered in and taken a seat beside them.

The bread was dense and had an intricate pattern on it. It almost felt like a shame to eat it. The stew was hearty, and the company was chaotic yet oddly comforting. Someone nearly spilled soup and several elbows were through, and periodically, someone would do something to upset someone else, causing them to rattle off in their melodic language that sounded like a combination of nature sounds.

"Your family is like a living melody," Xiangcui remarked, her eyes twinkling with warmth as she observed the exchange between siblings, parents, and extended kin.

"Melodies change key, and so do we," Hua replied, catching a bowl tossed by a brother. "But tell me more about this herbalism venture."

Chengyu swallowed a piece of bread, feeling it scratch down his throat before speaking. "Our search has not been fruitful. We hoped to find skilled hands, but now seek only those eager to learn."

"Ah, to be a student again," Hua mused, locking eyes with Chengyu. "If it is our Apothecary Divine, I might be persuaded."

"Truly?" Xiangcui leaned forward, her enthusiasm igniting like a flame kissed by the wind. "Do not play with Chengyu's heart, good sir."

"Perhaps I already am." Hua's voice wavered as he glanced at the faces surrounding him—each one a stanza of his life's song.

"Herbalism can be your new verse," Xiangcui encouraged, her hand brushing over the map Yuehua had crafted, its lines and symbols promising a different kind of journey.

"Come work with us," Chengyu found himself saying, surprising even himself. "Learn the language of plants."

"Yet lose my prestige?" Hua said, toying with the idea. "I shall have you know, a noble in the west offered to buy me. So intranced by my beauty that he commissioned scroll after scroll of my dances. He even built a statue."

Hua moved as if he were in dance, arms poised gracefully, expression aloft and fierce. From this angle, he nearly looked like a girl. But with how he stared at Chengyu, Chengyyu hoped Hua knew he had no such means, and if he had, he wouldn't squander them on gratifying a man.

"But to become more than a traveling entertainer?" Hua echoed, his words hanging amidst the clatter of dishes and the laughter of children. "You propose quite the seductive offer."

"Think of the stories you could tell," Xiangcui added, her gaze locked onto Hua's. "Not just heard, but lived."

"Stories lived," Hua repeated softly, as if tasting the words for the first time.

"Wouldn't it be wondrous?" Xiangcui pressed, an irrefutable gleam in her eyes.

"Ha! Our Hua, an herbalist?" One of his sisters cackled, tossing her hair back. It seemed they had no ill will in the notion, but simply wanted to jest. "The plants would wilt in fear!"

"Or thrive under my care," Hua countered, his voice rising above the familial cacophony.

And with that, the scales tipped. The idea rooted itself in the fertile soil of possibility, and Hua's hesitation began to wilt. They watched as his resistance crumbled like the earth beneath a seasoned plow.

"When my contract with Lord Hongli expires, I shall devote myself entirely to you, Teacher Chengyu," Hua declared, his chest swelling with an uncharted resolve. "From this day forth, I am yours! Use me well and shape my mind."

Coughing, Chengyu's eyes went wide. "You don't have to say it like that," he cringed, spluttering on his drink.

Ignoring him, the other two entered an excited banter.

"Truly?" Xiangcui's voice lifted in delight, echoing off the patchwork walls.

"Truly," Hua affirmed, and their shared joy blossomed, unfurling like the petals of the rarest bloom.

Jumping to his feet, he struck a pose and held his arms out for a dance. Since it was obvious Chengyu would not, Xiangcui decided to humor Hua and joined him. They spun around the room, bumping into furniture while giving stupid laughs. In the back, Hua's sisters were eagerly rummaging through his belongings, packing only what they didn't want to keep.

When he noticed, Hua dropped Xiangcui and stormed over, snatching his ornate hairbrush away. Wielding it like a sword, he chased them around the entirety of the tents, emerging through different alleys and shouting and daring them to touch his precious belongings again.

Chengyu sat back, a spectator to their burgeoning friendship. His mind wandered through the forests of his own solitude, finding solace in the realization that his path was diverging onto a road he never expected to walk. He couldn't match their vigor or their sprightly banter, but the sight of their elation stoked a gentle warmth within him—a reminder of the vibrancy that once colored his world.

"Welcome to the team," Chengyu murmured, a contentedness weaving through his spirit. Hua's future was unwritten, but for now, the next chapter promised growth. And for Chengyu, that was enough to paint a smile on his lips, quiet and sincere.