Chapter Text
Lady Iron Fan tended to avoid the most commonly walked paths in the palace since her return. Shí Hóu only knew this because she took those routes to avoid bumping into anyone who might drag her into unnecessary conversation. Instead, the two women crossed paths almost everyday, their noses scrunched up as if they’d found something bothersome. That morning, Shí Hóu had come back from the kitchens after grabbing a quick snack. The fruit harvest had yielded some delectably ripe peaches; a treat she hadn’t had since her arrival there. Her basket was filled with stone fruit, its sweet scent filling the dank corridor.
She had just about made it back to her sewing room when she saw her. Lady Iron Fan kept her head held high despite hiding from most anyone’s view, her elegant qíxiōng rúqún flowing around her like brushstrokes on a painting. It was a beautifully made garment, Shí Hóu begrudgingly noted. A pleasantly loose fit that glanced over the woman’s belly. Discreet, smart.
“Lady Iron Fan,” Shí Hóu muttered, a half-hearted greeting.
“Lady Tiānchán,” Lady Iron Fan threw back. The hall was silent save for their breathing as they gave each other tight-lipped smiles. It was impossible to tell who would break first. Both of them were stubborn as hell. Then, Iron Fan’s nose twitched, gaze quickly falling to Shí Hóu’s basket. “Stone fruit,” she hissed, though her tone carried an odd note to it. “I never much cared for it.”
Shí Hóu watched her hand move to her stomach for a moment before remembering herself and who she was with. However, it was enough for the tailor’s resolve to break. She sighed, gesturing with her free hand so the other woman would move. “I’m sure I have another basket in my room.”
But Lady Iron Fan refused to budge. Her eyes searched Shí Hóu’s face as if she expected the tailor to poison her right then and there. Finally, she asked, “What are you doing?”
“Sharing some fruit.” Shí Hóu heaved the basket onto her shoulder so she could pass the other woman. “You’re hungry, right?” She didn’t bother waiting to see if the warrior was following her. Whether Iron Fan’s pride was greater than the desire surely tempting her mattered little to the seamstress. Work awaited her regardless and she had stayed away from her desk for too long already. As she opened the door to her room, she turned to see Lady Iron Fan behind her, steely gaze pointedly looking anywhere other than the one in front of her. “Have a seat wherever you like,” Shí Hóu called as she set the basket on the low-lying table. “I’ll find something to carry your share.”
Then, without further instruction, she went to the far corner of her work room where she stored her accessories. Straw, twine, stone beads and anything that typically didn’t make it to her more common pieces were haphazardly organized in bowls and unused planters. One bowl in particular caught her eye; one with a blue glaze and curving lines that cut into the sides to create divots of uncolored clay.
An ache settled in her chest like a heavy weight. She took it from the pile. However, once she turned around to fill it, she was surprised to see Iron Fan’s cheeks stuffed full of stone fruit with her mouth poised to take another bite. The two women stared at each other in silence for minutes on end. Then, Shí Hóu couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.
“You look,” she gasped for breath, “so silly! Hah!” Peals of laughter escaped her, sides burning. “Oh, it hurts. Stop it!”
“I’m not doing anything,” Iron Fan grumbled. Though, due to her full mouth, it came out nearly unintelligible but her face said it all. She finished off the peach without uttering a single word as the seamstress tried to control her hysterical fit. After a few minutes of the giggles lessening, she leveled Shí Hóu with a glare. “Are you quite done now?”
Shí Hóu hummed. “Quite.” She wiped an errant tear from her eye. “I haven’t laughed like that in ages.” Sitting down across the table, she began setting aside a majority of her haul in the bowl. A small smile played on her lips. “That one must be ravenous. That’s a good thing.”
Iron Fan quirked an eyebrow, expression not nearly as irritating with juice on her face. “And you know all about that?”
The seamstress shrugged. “More or less.” She rolled over another fruit toward her guest who took it after a moment’s hesitation. “Better than the nausea, I’ve heard.” The bowl was deep and wide enough to carry about nine peaches. Almost half her intended snack but she found herself unable to give the woman less. “Here.” When Iron Fan didn’t immediately grab it, Shí Hóu pushed it closer. “Surely you know how to carry a bowl.”
“I don’t want your pity.”
“Hah! You think I pity you?” She took her own peach, biting into the sweet flesh. “I envy you.”
At that, Iron Fan looked at her in disbelief. “You do?”
“How can I not?” A playful smile curled her lips upward. “You’re taking almost all the peaches.”
Of course, the warrior bristled, mouth open to unleash a scathing remark, but Shí Hóu simply pushed more fruit her way. Like a pleased cat, she snatched it up, eating it much the same as Shí Hóu had. “I’ll return the bowl once I’ve finished.”
The ache returned. And after it had settled some, too. A damn shame. Shí Hóu leaned back on her arm. “Bah, keep it.”
Startled, Iron Fan looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? I’m giving it to you, aren’t I?”
“But it’s a gorgeous bowl–”
“A gorgeous bowl that I’m not using.” She set a pit into her basket. “Keep it.”
The warrior seemed ready to argue more but something in Shí Hóu’s expression must have convinced her it wasn’t worth trying. Instead, her fingers traced the design on the bowl’s sides. “Do you remember who made it?”
“Of course,” Shí Hóu wanted to say immediately, “I remember all the earthware I’ve ever received, but this one… This one’s special.” Yet she held her tongue. After all, this woman was only a stranger to her. A stranger she’d threatened, but a stranger nonetheless. Still, she told her, voice quiet like she couldn’t fathom saying it any louder. “My brother.”
That piqued Iron Fan’s interest. It was then that Shí Hóu was truly reminded that this woman was a warrior under the warlord king. Her eyes cut through Shí Hóu, sharp as a blade, eager to gain information. Then, her gaze went impossibly gentle. “You have a brother?”
Shí Hóu sat up, ready to stand and move further from the table. “Yes.”
“Where is he now?”
“Why isn’t he here with you?”
The work room had grown stuffy from the fast approaching midday air. Summer was its peak and Shí Hóu wanted nothing more than to leave. “That doesn’t matter now,” she told Lady Iron Fan, curt and unaffected. Though she knew that, in doing so, it told the other woman everything she needed to know.
“I see.” Lady Iron Fan shifted where she sat.
Eager to move, Shí Hóu told her, “I’ll get you a cushion.” She rose from her seat with barely restrained relief. Behind the privacy screen she had in another corner, she kept a pile of cushions. Taking the second one from the top, she smacked it against her thigh to release any dust. The walk back to the table felt like an arduous journey but, eventually, she stood behind Lady Iron Fan. “Up, up.” The poor woman struggled to lift herself enough for Shí Hóu to push the pillow beneath her.
Once settled, Lady Iron Fan, who had kept her eyes on Shí Hóu at all times, tilted her head, curious. “Your younger brother must have been very talented to make this. I send my regards.”
“I didn’t say he was my younger brother,” Shí Hóu replied, a non-answer to a question Lady Iron Fan didn’t have to ask. She wiped her hands on a spare rag before grabbing a folded pile of fabric.
“Your demeanor says it all.”
Shí Hóu hummed. Returning to her seat, she pushed away the basket, appetite lost, as she undid the tie around the fabric to pull out a needle, thread, and a small tray of beads. “And you must know all about that, huh?” Her focus remained on threading embroidery floss onto her needle then picking up a few delicately small glass beads.
Across from her, Lady Iron Fan followed her movements with an energy similar to a tiger watching deer, a predator stalking a prey. Not hungry, yet, just observing. “I suppose so. Considering the obvious.”
“The obvious,” Shí Hóu nodded along, “right.”
The two remained in silence for a while after that. Lady Iron Fan ate a few more peaches until only five remained in the bowl. A rag was offered to her upon request and she wiped her hands clean. Some tension in Shí Hóu’s shoulders lessened at that. She hated having food so close to her while working and normally she wouldn’t allow such a thing in her sewing room, but her guest had refused to leave and she was too stubborn to say anything.
Eventually, the warrior spoke up. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Shí Hóu asked, not bothering to take her eyes off her work.
The neutral tone glided off Lady Iron Fan’s back. “I mean, what are you making now? I’ve seen what you’ve made for Míhóu but I find I know little of your work.”
Her explanation did little to garner Shí Hóu’s attention. “I could say the same to you.”
“I’m a warrior.”
“That tells me little.”
Lady Iron Fan sighed. “I serve the kingdom and what is a kingdom without its people? Their protection is of utmost importance. How I achieve that shouldn’t be a concern for anyone other than our king.”
As if summoned, there was a knock at Shí Hóu’s door. She excused herself, wrapping up her project the same way she found it. Unsurprisingly, her king stood on the other side of her door, a tight smile on his face. “Lady Tiānchán,” he said by way of greeting.
She tipped her head. “My king.” She turned to grant him entry, something he took readily. “Forgive me, I haven’t made much progress on the lóngpáo. I was distracted.”
“Is that so?” He moved further into the room, though his gaze was clearly on Lady Iron Fan.
Something ugly twisted her insides in a terrible knot. Shí Hóu went to her desk to grab her jewelry box. “However, I have some accessories if you would like to try.”
“Actually–”
“I, for one, would love to see what you have, Lady Tiānchán,” Lady Iron Fan called from behind where her entire person was blocked out by their king.
“Of course.” Shí Hóu calmly made her way to the low-lying table. She opened a lower compartment in her jewelry box, exercising great care as she took out a chāi. The hairpin’s twin needles, though made of metal, were delicate and thin, prone to bending if forced with too harsh a hand. A lotus flower decorated the head, beautifully vibrant petals made from coral crystal carved in perfect relief. The bud in the center glimmered in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. Turning to Lady Iron Fan, she offered it.
Her heart seized as the warrior took it from her hands. “Fascinating. I wasn’t aware you made such fine jewelry, Lady Tiānchán.”
“I’ve told you before that all my pieces are made by her,” the king snapped, a certain annoyance in his voice that confused her. Lady Iron Fan continued turning the chāi this way and that, observing it from many angles and threatening to have Shí Hóu’s heart leap out of her chest. “That’s enough, Jiějie–”
A mischievous grin adorned the other woman’s face, sly like a fox. “Can I keep this as well, Lady Tiānchán?”
She must have noticed how dazed Shí Hóu had become. That had to be the only reason she grew bold enough to ask for more than what she’d been given. Because how was Shí Hóu meant to react to the fact that Lady Iron Fan was the king’s sister? She nodded, unable to say much other than, “I suppose.” She held her hand out for the chāi which was handed over with all the grace of someone who’d won something great. Confusing, considering the warrior hardly seemed to adorn her hair. Regardless, all the jewelry and accessories Shí Hóu crafted received the same care upon parting. The chāi fit snug in the small bag she stored it in, then its respective box which she had to unearth from a pile along her front wall. Hushed whispers carried on behind her, agitated, amused. They dissipated before she returned to the two siblings.
“Much thanks, Lady Tiānchán.” Lady Iron Fan bowed low, hands clasped in front of her. When she rose, it was to snatch the king’s ear and drag him down to bow as well. He hissed, baring sharp teeth that hardly seemed to affect her. “Grab the bowl, Míhóu,” she ordered, already turning to the door.
He did as he was told. His sister was halfway out the door but he remained, shuffling his feet. “Forgive her,” he told Shí Hóu, gaze pleading her for something she couldn’t name, “she’s–”
“Míhóu,” came Lady Iron Fan’s sharp voice, “come.”
The king looked at the exit, shoulders drooping. He turned to Shí Hóu. “It’s alright,” she told him. She brushed an errant strand behind his ear in a bold move on her part. “I understand.”
“Lady Tiānchán,” he whispered. He opened his mouth, poised to say more.
“Míhóu–”
He cursed under his breath. “I’m coming, Jiějie. Have patience–”
Shí Hóu shut the door after walking him there. Her legs finally gave way, unable to keep her upright after all that transpired. “Siblings,” she said to herself. “She’s his sister.” Then, remembering everything that she’d told the woman–done to her–she groaned. “They’re gonna kill me.”