“The Spring and Autumn Annals tells us to seek the Mandate of Heaven in all things.”

Lord Wubian’s pronouncement was made solemnly as the wayang drew himself up to his full height – though even then the top of his head barely reached past Yuyan’s waist – and slowly approached where the six-tails and the brachina were waiting to be admitted.

“The clear waters of a spring can drown a heavily armored warrior, but can refresh a traveler dying of thirst. The rays of the summer sun can destroy the crops in the field, but can bring a flight of game birds in to eat the fallen seeds. The fiercest storm may knock down one’s house, but can also uncover the gold at the bottom of a riverbed. Thus, in accordance with the Mandate, do we find duality in all things.”

Reaching the edge of the pavilion, a leer crossed Lord Wubian’s face as his eyes slid over to Yuyan’s tails.

“And so it is now. For although it is a most unfortunate matter that has brought Pimao Biyu Hai Yuyan to see me, I have the good fortune of gazing upon the beautiful fur for which her clan is named.”

Smiling politely, Yuyan bowed her head. “I am honored to receive your praise, Lord Wubian.”

The wayang gave a nasal laugh. “Please come into this holy sanctuary, Yuyan, and bring your lovely companion with you. But I must insist that you not bring your formality with you, and so refer to me as Zhixiang from now on.”

The request made Yuyan grimace internally.

It was the custom among wayangs to list their personal name first, followed by their surname. Such a thing ran counter to almost all of the societies that revered the Celestial Bureaucracy or the Yaoyorozu, who listed their clan name first and their personal name second in a show of filial piety, which was in itself a way of honoring the gods. While no one begrudged the barbarian peoples who named themselves first and their families second – such a thing was to be expected from those whose gods did not revere the Mandate of Heaven – that the wayangs did the same while claiming to honor the enlightened pantheons was a well-known mark of their selfishness and conceit.

“I would never dream of being so impertinent, Lord Wubian,” demurred Yuyan as she stepped forward. “To stand in the presence of one who speaks for His Exalted Magnificence Yen-Wang-Yeh requires that I humble myself before you.”

“You honor me too much,” insisted the wayang, though his grin widened at the praise. “I am but a minor vassal in service of His Exalted Magnificence, and am unworthy of such words from a noble lady of so esteemed a clan as yours. Though I hope that your companion, at least, shall avail herself of my wishes and make herself at ease.”

Knowing that she was being prompted, Yuyan nodded at the brachina.

“Lady Carnelia is here as one who works alongside my clan, having insisted to come along to help safeguard the Pimao Jingzhi’s interests.”

Just like when she’d identified the redhead to the chiao guarding the place a few moments ago, Yuyan chose her words with care, making sure to say nothing of substance. But whereas her prior statement had been calculated to arouse Wubian’s interest – correctly guessing that he’d be taken in by the devil’s beauty and allow her to approach, even though her not being a fox meant that he would have been well within his rights to refuse to allow her past the paifang – Yuyan had a different purpose for being evasive now.

As much as possible, she wanted to keep Lex out of the discussion that was about to happen.

Doing so would bring shame to herself and her clan, likely damaging their standing in his eyes. To be accused of being in debt was bad enough, but having him step in to personally resolve their problems would be worse. Particularly in light of what Mei Li had told her about what her husband was already dealing with.

To resolve the matter of the Pimao Jingzhi’s supposed debt wasn’t enough; she had to do it without her lord becoming involved.

Which, Yuyan knew, meant that she could not under any circumstances admit that Carnelia was her fellow concubine.

Doing so would mean admitting that she herself was a concubine, to the same lord as the brachina. At that point, she’d lose a great deal of standing when it came to negotiating the matter of the debt. In fact, Wubian would be entitled to dismiss her altogether, refusing to deal with a mere concubine at all.

Fortunately, she’d been able to explain all of that to Carnelia telepathically before they’d entered the mist surrounding Wubian’s encampment, and the devil had seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

“I am simply called Carnelia,” announced the devil in flawless Tianyu, making Wubian’s unibrow rise. “And like my companion, I would never presume to address you as my equal.”

The veiled insult seemed to fly completely over Wubian’s head, though that may have been because of how Carnelia also gave a slight bow as she spoke, even that small motion being enough to make her curves bounce and sway.

But if the slight narrowing of her eyes was any indication, the four-tailed kumiho standing further back in the pavilion hadn’t missed the jab.

“My husband,” she called out, her tone full of false sweetness, “shall I prepare to entertain our guests?”

It was as close to a rebuke as a wife could make without embarrassing herself, and it seemed to snap Wubian out of his lust-induced daze.

“Ah, of course,” he called back, chuckling. “Please allow me to introduce my wife, Lanying Wubian.”

Although she’d known he would, Yuyan still cursed inwardly at the wayang’s introducing the four-tails with his own surname. Her maiden name would have revealed what clan she was from, potentially shedding light on how someone as lowly as Wubian had gotten a kumiho vixen for a bride. But it seemed that information wouldn’t be so easily revealed.

Yuyan, however, wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“I am overjoyed to make the acquaintance of a daughter of one of our great clans,” she demurred, bowing to Lanying. “I hope that you will allow me the honor of making an offering thanking the founder of your household, in celebration of what I am certain will be a fast and enduring friendship.”

Lanying laughed softly, raising the sleeve of her robe to cover her mouth.

“Ah, senior,” she purred, using the formal term of respect for a kumiho from another clan with more tails than herself, “you are too kind. When your business with my husband is concluded, I would be delighted to receive your regards.”

Meaning that she knows what I’m asking, and won’t give me a chance to find out until it’s too late to be helpful, Yuyan knew.

Nor did Lanying seem intent on letting her continue fishing for information, turning to the zhizhu nu – the spider-woman singing softly as she played the sanxian – her features hardened. “Bao, are you as stupid as you are ugly? Our guests have been invited into the pavilion; stop your awful crooning and lay out cushions for them.”

Wincing, the homely zhizhu nu gave a deferential nod as she immediately quieted down and put her instrument away, her spider legs retracting into her robes and disappearing as she quickly laid two large pillows out around the table in the center of the pavilion.

Nor was Lanying done yet, turning to the xuenu – the snow-woman in the disheveled robes who was currently leaning on Guang, whispering something in the qilin’s ears that made an embarrassed expression cross his features – as her tails swished. “Chen, stop acting like a slut and prepare some fruit for our guests.”

A dark looked crossed Chen’s face at that, but she didn’t say a word of protest as she removed herself from Guang and instead pulled several lychees and small plates from a basket off to her side. Laying them out on the table, she wordlessly began slicing them, pausing just long enough to trim them with frost as she did so.

The sight made Wubian chuckle as he returned to his oversized chair at the head of the table. “My apologies for showing you such an unsightly lack of household discipline. It’s becoming harder and harder to find decent concubines these days.”

Yuyan let the comment roll over her without any external reaction, despite the sudden rush of anxiety she felt then, wondering if there was something more pointed behind the seemingly-casual statement. “Truly?”

“Unfortunately so,” sighed Wubian. “The last four concubines that I took into my household were so inept that they could barely perform basic domestic duties, leaving me with no choice but to sell them. Even the prices that they fetched were shameful for how meager they were, though I’ll admit they weren’t worth much more.”

Clucking his tongue, he glanced at Bao and Chen. “If these two don’t show some improvements soon, I’ll just have to hope that they’re worth more.”

The threat made Bao tremble, her face falling as she clenched her hands in her lap. Chen looked no less intimidated, her insolent expression giving way to dread as she bit her lip.

Lanying, however, seemed delighted by the prospect, once again hiding her mouth behind her sleeve as she giggled. “My husband is truly skilled to be able to make a profit off of such worthless girls.”

Sitting down at the table, Yuyan said nothing in response to the display.

Inwardly, however, she was seething.

That concubines were treated as commodities, typically by nobles and wealthy merchants, was an open secret. Indeed, it was common for them – or their children, who were considered illegitimate and so couldn’t become heirs unless formally adopted by the clan head, which almost never happened – to be given as gifts, offered as apologies, or presented as favors, typically alongside more substantive offerings.

But such things were always done with a great deal of carefulness and consideration. There were entire works of literature devoted to the subject of trading concubines, all of which stressed how – while not as prominent or as binding as a marriage – the practice was replete with significance.

That was because concubines were members of their lord’s clan. How they were treated, at least in view of outsiders, reflected on both himself personally and his household as a whole. By that same token, giving someone a concubine who proved to be a poor fit for her new home reflected badly on the giver. At best it made them look ignorant of the recipient’s disposition; at worst, it made it seem like they were deliberately trying to disturb the peace of the recipient’s household.

Which meant that it was tactless in the extreme to refer to concubines as being bought and sold for money the way Wubian had just done.

But that wasn’t the only reason why Yuyan was suddenly furious.

“I swear in the name of my goddess, the Night Mare, that I will forever cherish you.”

Mei Li had – when she’d unexpectedly returned as a nine-tails – sworn that her husband would honor the Pimao Jingzhi. Despite his unbalanced ki and his following a goddess who did not revere the Mandate of Heaven, she had been willing to entrust her entire clan’s future to him.

And despite the doubts Yuyan had held, Lex Legis had lived up to his wife’s expectations of him.

He had received them without a word of complaint, despite still being in the process of trying to return to his kingdom. He had treated them with dignity despite their gifts to him being so meager. And he had refused to harm the yeu ho vixens, even after being told how lucrative their livers – which granted eternal life – were.

Then he’d gone further, and made a sacred vow to hold them dear for all time.

To be shown such respect by an outsider, while a functionary of her own pantheon conducted himself with such disgrace, was so galling to Yuyan that it was almost physically painful.

Mind your tails.

Carnelia’s warning made Yuyan realize that her concentration had slipped, taking a deep breath as she circulated her ki, trying to un-fluff her tails before anyone noticed.

But it wasn’t to be, as Lanying glanced at her tails, cocking her head. “Senior, is something the matter?”

“Ah, forgive me,” murmured Yuyan, bracing herself inwardly for what she was about to say. “I could not help but feel incensed that such a noble personage as our host was unable to secure himself a concubine worthy of his eminence.”

Wubian beamed, but behind him Guang scowled, clearly upset to hear her approval of the wayang’s ignoble behavior.

That was enough to increase Yuyan’s respect for the qilin. He was clearly helpless to intervene – despite his low standing, Wubian’s place among the realm of one of the Celestial Bureaucracy’s most prestigious gods meant that he far outranked the qilin, who was assigned to patrol the mortal world – and equally clearly wished he could. Which was probably why Chen had been so openly flirting with him, hoping to tempt him to break protocol by stealing her – and, Yuyan hoped, Bao – away, even though doing so would have made him an outlaw.

But that should be Lanying’s job.

The thought was a spiteful one on Yuyan’s part, making sure not to let the fur on her tails stand up again. The four-tailed vixen might not be able to openly object to her husband’s treatment of his concubines – with guests here, she was bound by etiquette to support everything her husband did, short of open revolt against the Mandate of Heaven – she still had numerous options for undermining him. One of which would have been to help smuggle Bao and Chen away; from forging her husband’s signature on documents to simply leaving a door open when he wasn’t looking, Yuyan was certain the four-tails had many opportunities to help the xuenu and the zhizhu nu escape from whatever disreputable figures her husband planned to sell them to.

But if what Wubian had said about his last four concubines was any indication, she’d done no such thing.

Fighting down her disgust toward her hosts, Yuyan cleared her throat softly. “Forgive me for voicing my opinion about your household matters, Lord Wubian. I have been most distraught to hear that my clan is being charged with a debt, and it has made me forget myself.”

“Not at all.”

Waving one too-long arm as if to bat the issue out of the air, Wubian smiled. “Let us hurry and dispense with the matter then, so that you may enjoy your time here with proper peace of mind. Lanying.”

At his prompting, his wife produced a scroll from within the folds of her robes, placing it in Wubian’s hand.

Unrolling it, the wayang looked its contents over for a moment before nodding. “Ah yes, here we are. According to this, your clan is in debt for one hundred fifty-thousand tael. Quite the exorbitant amount.”

Despite having resolved herself to remain calm, Yuyan couldn’t help how her eyes widened then; that amount would have been considerable even during her clan’s heyday; now, it was far more than they could hope to afford. “One hundred fifty-thousand tael?! That-”

“Pardon me if this is rude,” interjected Carnelia, the interruption giving Yuyan a chance to collect herself, “but could you speak more as to the exact circumstances that placed the Pimao Jingzhi in debt?”

“The voice of such a beauty could never produce words that are unpleasant to my ears,” replied Wubian. “Though I fear that Lady Yuyan will not be able to say the same for my own. You see, the debt leveled against her clan is for the fine arrayed against the criminal activities of her husband, her brother, and her sister-in-law.”

It was only because she’d tightened her composure after losing it twice that Yuyan was able to remain calm, ignoring Wubian’s inappropriate use of her personal name. “Forgive my presumptuousness, but this is surely a mistake. The individuals you speak of were the pride of my clan, conducting themselves with decorum and righteousness in all that they did.”

One side of his unibrow raising, Wubian made a show of looking through his scroll again.

“Your husband was Pimao Ruqui Riban Xuanlan, yes? And your brother, Pimao Biyin Gengyou Ren, along with his wife, Pimao Bisichou Geng Xini?”

Resisting the urge to swallow, Yuyan nodded. “Yes, that’s them. But-”

“Then I’m afraid there’s no mistake,” concluded Wubian. “They were killed in the commission of a very serious crime, and so the fine is appropriately heavy.”

Shrugging, he rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Lanying, who smirked as she took it.

“Naturally, in recognition of the Pimao Jingzhi’s long history of upstanding conduct, vice director Chen Shimei – once their souls were turned over to him for punishment and rehabilitation – allowed your clan to save face by presuming that those three had been exiled before they’d committed a crime so vile,” continued Wubian.

He paused then to eat another slice of lychee, lips smacking as he savored the fruit before finishing his explanation. “Unfortunately, we received a petition – written in your own hand, Lady Yuyan – asking for them to be resurrected. Naturally, that request forced vice director Chen to recognize those three as still being in good standing with the Pimao Jingzhi, and so the fine is now being held as a debt against your entire clan.”

He gave her an apologetic look then, though his smile was still in place. “Of course, we would have informed you of this in a more timely manner, but your clan seems to have left Panas in a hurry. When we finally realized that you were in the Thousand Kingdoms, we sent a messenger, only to find that you had again vacated the area. As such, now that we’ve found you again, we must demand payment in full, immediately.”

Yuyan was silent for a long moment, fighting to keep a tight rein on her emotions.

“May I ask what crime my kin are accused of having committed?”

Off to the side, Lanying covered her mouth with her sleeve again, but even that couldn’t hide how her smile widened.

“Apostasy,” answered Wubian. “They conspired with those who wished to overturn the Mandate of Heaven. Truly, it was an act of leniency that the rest of your clan is only being fined, rather than-”

“What enemies are those?” interjected Carnelia. “And what conspiracy did they engage in, specifically?”

Although interrupting their host was a breach of etiquette, Wubian didn’t seem to mind, eyeing Carnelia up again.

“I had thought not to say it out loud, so as not to shame Lady Yuyan,” he murmured at last.

Not trusting herself to speak, the six-tails shook her head, motioning for Wubian to continue.

Giving an overwrought sigh, clearly trying to look much more distraught than he actually was, Wubian lowered his voice as he leaned forward.

“They were killed in that wretched corner of the multiverse known as the Abyss, trying to reach its 193rd layer, known as Vulgarea.”

None of that meant anything to Yuyan, but she didn’t miss the way that Carnelia suddenly frowned, her lips pursing.

Sending the devil an inquisitive look, her companion paused for a long moment before answering the silent query.

“Vulgarea is the home of the werefox goddess, Eshebala.”

Author's Note

The details behind the Pimao Jingzhi’s debt come to light at last!

Were Yuyan's husband, brother, and sister-in-law truly allied with the werefox goddess? What will she do about the inordinate sum being demanded of her clan?