“MEI LI!”

Yuyan’s eyes widened at how muffled her voice sounded, her ears twitching as the yell she’d given upon seeing – despite how dim the midday sun seemed – her niece prostrate and sobbing sounded instead like a soft cry barely above a whisper.

It was enough to shock the six-tailed kumiho into momentary immobility, trying to figure out what was going on.

Only a few moments ago, she and Mei Li had been conversing over tea, the former head of the Pimao Jingzhi telling the new matriarch how her husband’s meeting with the rest of the clan had gone. Omitting her discussion with Teumessia in the bath – it was unseemly to burden a wife with the struggles that went on between concubines – Yuyan had instead reported on how Lex Legis had compassionately pledged never to allow the yeu ho vixens to be harmed, had helped Shiji save face, and had honored them for the gifts they’d given him despite how meager they were.

It had warmed Yuyan’s heart to see Mei Li’s overjoyed reaction to the news. Although she knew she should have chastised the girl for being so open with her emotions – even if they were family, it was a bad habit for a wife to be so unreserved in front of a concubine – Yuyan hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so. Only a few hours prior, she had thought that her niece was dead, the latest misfortune to befall their clan; to see her not only alive but smiling so openly was a blessing.

But that blessing had ended abruptly as Mei Li had suddenly gasped, her teacup falling to the ground as the nine-tails doubled over, her expression stricken.

Yuyan had been at her side in an instant. “Mei Li?! What’s wrong?!”

“M-my husband!” she’d moaned, taking her head in her hands. “Something has happened to my husband!”

Yuyan hadn’t had a chance to respond before her niece had lurched to her feet and rushed out the door, heading for the exit to the demiplane.

Not knowing what else to do, Yuyan had followed her.

But now that she was outside, with Mei Li having collapsed only a few paces beyond the threshold, Yuyan could see that things were worse than she’d feared.

That everything was strangely quiet, and the light was so dim despite the sun being high overhead, was bad enough. But from what the six-tails could tell, the village was under some sort of attack. Or at least, it seemed that way; all around her, adlets were running in a panic, seemingly unable to see in the dark like she could. Among them were several women – most likely her lord’s other concubines – attempting to restore order, with only limited results. And near the center of the village were several large protrusions of what looked like black crystals, one of which was notably taller than the others.

Atop it, Yuyan could just barely make out the huddled figure of her niece’s husband.

Mei Li! called Yuyan, switching to telepathy. Mei Li, we have to go back inside! It’s not safe out here!

But she received no answer from the nine-tailed kumiho except a mental wail of despair, all propriety and decorum completely gone as she wept into her hands. It was enough to leave the six-tails on the verge of panic; even when she’d lost her parents, or during the dark days that their clan had been forced to live in the chaotic environs of the Thousand Kingdoms, Yuyan had never seen Mei Li lose control of herself so badly.

A nearby blast of fire from a naked tiger-woman made Yuyan flinch; as a kumiho, she was resistant to weaker flames, but the sight drove home that she needed to get Mei Li away from danger.

Except she had no way of doing so.

Simply picking her up and carrying her was out of the question. If Mei Li had returned to her fox-form, it would have been possible, but her human body weighed too much for Yuyan to lift. Like all foxes, kumiho were beings with disproportionately high yin, giving them a great deal of magical talent but little in the way of physical strength. Nor had she learned any spells that could compensate for that shortcoming.

Trying not to panic, Yuyan turned back to the entrance to the demiplane, throwing the door open and telepathically calling for help.

But no one came in response to her cry.

Nor would they, Yuyan realized. Although telepathy was a convenient way of speaking, its range was horribly short limited compared to speaking aloud. And that couldn’t be done while sound was being dampened.

I could probably find someone if I ran back inside, but...

Hesitating for just a moment, Yuyan shook her head. There was no telling what would happen to Mei Li while she was gone. If the village was under attack, an incapacitated nine-tails would surely be a target too tempting to resist.

But if she couldn’t move her niece and couldn’t leave her, that left only one option.

To cure, or at least alleviate, whatever was happening to her.

Now the only question is how to do that, Yuyan knew.

Fretting, she paused as she recalled that she still had Nayao’s fear-suppressing earring in the folds of her robe. A rush of hope ran through her then as she hurriedly retrieved it, kneeling down and affixing it to her niece’s ear.

Lady Huxian, if you can hear me, please let this work!

Yuyan had made similar prayers many times over the last few years, each time asking the goddess to help them reverse their clan’s declining fortunes. Each time, Huxian had seen fit not to answer.

Nor did she this time, as the earring did nothing to calm Mei Li’s frenzied sobbing.

Snatching the useless item back, Yuyan realized that there was only one option left if she wanted to help her niece.

Mei Li, forgive me for doing this without your permission, she apologized telepathically, turning the nine-tails onto her back, but I need to stimulate your ki.

All members of the Pimao Jingzhi were required to dedicate themselves to mastering an expression of beauty, and Yuyan had been no different. But while others had focused on terrestrial areas of refinement – such as an instrument, calligraphy, or gardening – she had elected to focus on a more esoteric discipline: ki cultivation.

It had been an unusual choice, and had earned her more than one lecture from her mother, who considered it unsuitable for a vixen of the Pimao Jingzhi. Not because such a thing wasn’t a noble pursuit, but because it was meant to be practiced in addition to reifying an aspect of beauty, rather than as an expression of it. “You are not a monk, my daughter,” her mother had said. “To grow your ki is to better only yourself, and you have a responsibility to place our clan’s needs above your own.”

“But it is not only my ki that I wish to cultivate, Mother,” had been Yuyan’s answer. “It is that of all of the Pimao Jingzhi.”

It had been one of the very few times she’d ever won an argument with her mother.

Ki cultivation, like earning tails, was considered to be a deeply personal activity. Whereas new tails were grown as the soul became more enlightened, one’s ki could be refined by improving the connection between body and soul, bringing them closer into alignment. While there were numerous exercises and practices dedicated to doing so, such things needed to be carried out with dedication and commitment – in spiritual insight and focus as well as in bodily training and exercise – in order to see anything beyond minimal results.

But Yuyan knew that there were ways around that.

When she had been six years old, Yuyan had earned her second tail, one of the youngest foxes to do so in the history of the Pimao Jingzhi. The entire clan had celebrated her accomplishment, and Yuyan – who had never been happier than when she’d seen how proud everyone was of her – was determined to earn her third tail just as quickly.

To that end, she’d started sneaking out at night, using the Conviction of Sublime Peace to go to an abandoned monastery that she’d overheard some of the servants discussing. With the foolishness of youth, she’d reasoned that a place where monks had practiced bringing their body and soul into harmony had to be a good place for enlightening her soul, even if it was no longer maintained.

But she’d found out too late that there’d been a reason why that monastery had been abandoned, as less than a month she’d come down with white fever.

Worse, none of the clan’s doctors or shugenjas had been able to cure her, whether by herbal remedies or magic. Although she’d found out later that the monastery in question had been cursed by an unusually powerful gaki – one whom the monks had laid to rest, but not before it had turned their monastery into a place of supernatural sickness – at the time all she’d known was that she’d been terrified that she was going to die.

That had been when a gailu dezhu – a master of the Path, a spiritualist practice popular among mendicants and nomads – had arrived.

Being deeply delirious at the time, Yuyan didn’t remember the treatments he’d given her. But she’d been told later that he’d stimulated her ki pathways, temporarily moving her body and soul closer together. Doing so had allowed her to access a reservoir of strength that the gailu dezhu had insisted was her own – he’d apparently said many times that it would be her own spirit, rather than his treatment, which would determine if she’d recover – and had ultimately allowed her to pull through.

But not without a profound new respect for the techniques which had saved her life.

Normally, a gailu dezhu was someone her parents would have been embarrassed to associate with. The Path, as a spiritualist practice, was nontheistic in nature; to those who revered the Celestial Bureaucracy, it was something to be looked down upon. There was a reason why it was only practiced by those at the bottom of fox society.

And yet that lowly fox whose name she’d never learned had saved her life, where doctors and spellcasters had failed.

That was enough to make it clear to Yuyan that, while she had no intention of following the Path, the Pimao Jingzhi needed her to focus on ki cultivation as her primary dedication, rather than a supplement to her individual growth. The same way the gailu dezhu had helped her uncover a hidden font of inner strength, she would do the same for the rest of her clan. Not just when they were sick or saddened, but by aiding them in improving themselves.

If the union of body and soul could help a sick fox on the verge of death recover, what could it do for a healthy one trying to master their chosen art?

By helping the rest of the clan to better themselves, Yuyan was refining beauty not through music or painting or ceremonies, but through the Pimao Jingzhi themselves.

It was beauty that encouraged beauty.

But that didn’t mean that she had neglected the techniques which had saved her life, nor failed to learn similar methods of using ki to assist in overcoming other maladies that could befall someone.

Much like what was happening to Mei Li now.

Despite the chaos around her, Yuyan closed her eyes as she focused her breathing, opening her meridians – the bodily pathways through which ki flowed – as she made herself calm down enough to begin reciting the mantras she’d learned, following them with the appropriate mudras – hand seals – a moment later.

Slowly, she felt her ki pathways begin to flow faster, the energy within her expanding as she strengthened the connection between her body and her soul.

Then she reached out to Mei Li.

As soon as she put her hands on her niece’s feet – even when reclining, the root meridians in the lower limbs were the primary connection between the ki of the body and the ki of the world, due to their connection to the ground; as such, they needed to be properly prepared before the rest of the body’s meridians could be opened – Yuyan could feel how badly the nine-tails’ inner harmony had been disrupted.

The heart meridian, she knew at once. It’s almost completely blocked!

Biting her lip, Yuyan slowly moved her fingers up Mei Li’s body, coaxing the ki within her niece to follow her. Clearing the blockage would require moving Mei Li’s ki against the obstruction in order to clear it. The hard part would be guiding it to that location, allowing it to build into a force great enough to clear the blockage rather than dissipating back throughout her body. Doing it so quickly, and under such stressful conditions, would only make it that much more difficult.

But there was no other choice.

Beneath her, Mei Li shuddered as Yuyan went to work, and the six-tails forced herself to concentrate on what she was doing, knowing that her niece was likely to find the experience unpleasant.

If I can only clear the blockage, she should be able to recover. Even if I can’t clear all of it, just a little should help her to regain control of herself.

It was with that thought in mind that she kept working, drawing Mei Li’s ki up her legs. Then across her sacrum. Then across her stomach. All while the ki within her massed, growing harder and harder for Yuyan to maintain as she brought it up toward her chest, pausing as she undid Mei Li’s robe, knowing that she’d need skin-to-skin contact for this next part-

“Do you think our lord is the type to enjoy taking a mother and daughter to bed at the same time?”

The memory of Teumessia’s disgusting provocation came back to Yuyan unbidden as she opened Mei Li’s clothing, almost causing her to lose the ki she’d gathered. Fighting back the urge to curse the werefox, she spent several more seconds steadying her breath, reciting another mantra as she refocused herself.

Then, interlocking her hands, Yuyan pressed her index fingers sharply downward against her niece’s breast.

Immediately, Mei Li’s ki slammed into her blocked heart meridian.

And the nine-tails gave a gasp, her back arching off the ground as her eyes opened wide, and then...

A-Aunt Yuyan?

Mei Li! Slumping in place, Yuyan nevertheless smiled as she withdrew her hands, quickly fixing Mei Li’s robe. How do you feel?

Horrible, moaned the nine-tails, sniffling. This sadness-, no, this despair...it’s still with me. I know that it’s not mine, that it’s coming from my husband, but it’s-

She cut herself off as her eyes widened, a horrified expression crossing her face as her head snapped around to stare at the nearby spire of black crystal. My husband! Aunt Yuyan, something is wrong with my husband! His heart...his heart has been broken!

Then you know what you need to do.

It wasn’t what Yuyan wanted to say. She wanted to tell Mei Li to run inside, to get far away from danger until whoever was attacking them had been dealt with.

But as Lex Legis’ concubine, she had a duty to put her lord’s welfare – which was now the Pimao Jingzhi’s welfare – above her own.

It was the same duty his wife had.

Yuyan could almost see the weight of that realization come over her niece. She saw her lower lip tremble, her ears folding back as her tails drooped. But a moment later, Mei Li found her resolve, wiping her eyes as she shakily stood up.

My husband is in pain, she announced, and Yuyan knew it was as much to herself as to her. I need to go help him.

Then, without waiting for a response, she began walking toward the spire.

It was enough to bring a smile of pride to Yuyan's face. She knew that she had only imperfectly cleared the blockage in Mei Li’s heart meridian, and that as a result, her niece was still suffering from whatever despair was likely also affecting her husband. And yet despite that, and the danger of whatever was attacking them, she was still intent on being at his side in his hour of need.

It was a beautiful thing to witness.

And being able to abet such beauty is my role in our clan, Yuyan affirmed again, even as she retreated back toward the demiplane’s entrance.

The rest is up to Mei Li.

Author's Note

Yuyan’s backstory, and her abilities, come to light as she helps Mei Li to withstand the anguish that has overcome Lex!

Will his fox-wife be able to help him recover from Kara’s rebuke? Or, as one of the people his love drives him to dominate, will she make things worse?