Immortal Connections - Chapter 8 preview

Chapter 8 - Wu Ying

The dining hall was massive, the columns gilded with gold and carved from colourful grey and yellow marble. The pillars soared all the way to the high ceilings where the (__) joists held the roofs aloft and managed the minor sway of the building as it blew and shifted on the cloudy surface below.

Scattered round tables, made of beautiful dark wood and filled with ten seats were the dining tables, intermittently filled with various Ascended. Their numbers ranged from the largest at seven to the smallest group of two nearest the door.

Down one side of the room, a series of serving plates lay, filled to the brim with food, hovering seals kept quiescent spirits watching over the food, maintaining the temperature and ensuring that the meal was never overly cold or dry. 

The contents of the dishes themselves were wide ranging, from plates of scallops and abalone in savoury sauces to lobster and whole fish, steamed and then finished with a plateful of piping hot oil to various combination of vegetables, flash cooked in woks or slow-cooked in clay pots. Sight and smell and the quiet crunch of meals reminded Wu Ying of his own hunger, a tightening in his stomach and a deluge of saliva.

“Do we eat? Should we eat?” he could not help but ask.

“Yes, and no?” Shou Ren said. “It’s not necessary for survival. However, the immortal foodstuff helps one to integrate into this realm better, helps the body and soul to further their merging.”

“Are there then ranks in foodstuff?” It was beginning to feel very much like the mortal world, with various foodstuffs and spirit herbs being better than others. 

“Not formally, and mostly, it is unimportant. Outside of some special items-”

“The immortal peaches?”

“Exactly.”

“Then, we are here to eat?” For breakfast, much of the dishes on offer seemed to be rather heavy. Then again, he was not expecting to work in the field and haul around significant amounts of rice or earth, so perhaps it mattered little what he ate. 

Then again, the ascended who were staring at them might be forcing him into a very different kind of exercise. He almost wanted to berate Shou Ren for not explaining further about the factions that were involved, because it was clear there were some. Though, looking over the groupings, he could guess.

There, the individuals dressed in foreign robes and clothing, in thicker hide and leather works with furred collars and hats were certainly from the north. Close by, but separate, sat a pair who wore lighter hemp clothing, sleeves cut off mid-length at the arm to showcase well developed biceps and billowy trousers with short-hemmed tops. Unlike the duller colours of their northern cousins, the pair were dressed in solid but garish clothing.

Then there were those from the central lands, individuals who dressed somewhat similar to Wu Ying in both cut and color and material. The majority were dressed as sect members of gentleman, clothing of significant quality and cost. Ages ranged, from the late twenties to fifties for the majority with only a few markedly older than that. 

Of course, Wu Ying knew better than to assume much from outer appearance for the process of ascension itself often saw changes in the physical. The body followed the mind and soul in this case, with those who were younger sometimes appearing older and vice-versa. It was an aspect of cultivation that Wu Ying had noticed early on during the process of ascension, and more so after. Numerous philosophical articles discussing the appearance and alterations of immortals dotted libraries all over the Middle Kingdom, many espousing various views on the changes – both informed and asinine in turn.

As for his own appearance, well, Wu Ying had changed little from his pre-ascension looks. Somewhere in his early thirties if one viewed him as a low level cultivator or mortal, the early blush of youth faded but lacking the numerous lines and wrinkles of the aged.

“Of course.” Shou Ren strode over to the buffet table, levitating a series of large plates over to him. He begin ladling and scooping with abandon, nodding in approval as Wu Ying joined him. If with a little more restraint.

Plates full, Shou Ren spun about on one heel, eyes raking over the tables before landing on a mousy young woman who sat alone. His smile widened even further as he strode over, not even hesitating as the woman looked up and gave them a bone-chilling glare.

“Now, now, don’t be like that, my flower,” Shou Ren said. “I’m bringing someone of interest to you.”

“If he’s a friend of yours, I want nothing to do with him.”

“No protégé of mine, he doesn’t dress well enough. Just someone the Vice Minister assigned to me to show around.” The last was pitched high enough that the words carried through the room. “Long Wu Ying, this is Lang Xin Heng, the sweetest flower of the winter lakes, the first dew of the morning, the premier-.”

“Enough.” Xin Heng looked Wu Ying up and down, then gestured for him to take the seat. “You’re the latest ascender then?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s not such a common thing,” Xin Heng said, glancing at Shou Ren as he took a seat as well. She considered saying something but instead reached over to one of the plates, one piled with his seafood and appropriating it for herself. To Wu Ying’s amazement, she began to put away the contents with surprising efficiency, utilizing her pair of chopsticks as dagger, prongs and mallet with deft twists of chi. Such was his amazement that he almost forgot to eat until a surreptitious shove on his knee underneath the table by Shou Ren had him picking at his own meal.

The group ate in silence for a time, Wu Ying surprising himself further by returning to the buffet table and piling another pair of plates high. As he sat down to consume those, he noticed that the pair had begun bickering in his absence.

“You can’t just explain the twelve factions without first explaining the ministries and their history,” Xin Heng was saying, waving her chopsticks around in great animation. “You’ll just be giving him a series of names to go by.”

“Which is what he needs for the first brush. We can deepen his knowledge later, but the first step should be identifying the factions in play,” Shou Ren insisted. “Otherwise-”

“He’ll end up being you?” Xin Heng teased. “Alone and bereft and hated by everyone?”

“Not everyone. You like me, don’t you?”

“I tolerate you.”

“Oooh, I’ve managed to make it to tolerate now, have I?” 

Xin Heng rolled her eyes, then looked at Wu Ying who was busy making himself small as he consumed his food. “You should know, this one is not well liked.” 

As Wu Ying nodded, she glanced at Shou Ren who smirked. “Told him already.”

“Well… that’s good.” Slightly deflated, Xin Heng continued. “Do you know the various ministries of the Jade Palace and thus the heavens?”

“No.”

“It mimics much of the work of the Yellow Emperor on your world, for he took his organization from the heavens themselves,” Shou Ren said, cutting in. “Which, of course, means that it should broadly be familiar.”

“You say a lot and nothing at all. The three departments are the Central Secretariat, the Department of State Affairs and the Chancellery. The State Department consists of the six ministries which deal with personnel, tax collection, rites, war, justice and central works. The Central Secretariat handles policy creation and drafting and announcing all decrees while the Chancellery provides direct counsel to the Jade Emperor while reviewing the work done by the other three departments.”

“From these eight portions…” Shou Ren began.

“Eight?” Wu Ying said. “Three plus six equals nine, does it not? Or has the heavens changed mathematics?”

“Eight – the central secretariat and chancellery are two. The six ministries that fall under the state department are six. We do not count the state department by itself, but its disparate parts because of their size,” he finished. “Now, listen. From these eight come the first eight factions – each of which are linked to one of the zodiac animals. The other four make up the outsiders of the four directions. Making twelve factions in total.”

“Twelve zodiac animals, twelve animals.” Wu Ying echoed to show he understood. It made sense, at least in the overall way that humanity liked to group themselves. Of course, one had to ask, “Who’s the rat?”

“The children of the east,” Xin Heng said, “for they are the smallest group. I hear they argued for the dragon but were ignored.”

Not entirely certain how to answer that comment, Wu Ying chose silence as the best option. The wind brushed against him, playing with stray locks of his hair and murmuring secrets to him, informing him that their conversation was being listened to. Most intently by the largest group of the central kingdom ascendants.

As such, it was not particularly surprising to him when they stood up to approach their table.