The air was acrid with the scent of burning grass, dirt, and stone. Bao Qingling pinched a stray strand of hair which had escaped the scarf which tamed the rest and watched as it began to crinkle, its end splitting and drying. Letting it go, she observed the training field. The blackening grass and the drizzle of burning acid from the sky, beginning to pool here and there, revealed that Bai Meizhen was deeply upset.

Behind her filtration mask, Bao Qingling frowned. She very much disliked this.

Yellow eyes opened amidst the brewing churn of acid clouds, visible even with Bao Qingling’s stunted vision.

“I do not recall inviting you here,” hissed the white serpent. Terror, like an icy blanket, draped over Bao Qingling’s shoulders.

She shook it off indifferently. Bai Meizhen was strong, but Bao Qingling was still her better in cultivation, and fear was something which she was well on her way to purging like the wasteful impurity it was.

“This is a public training ground.” She hated how stiff her voice sounded even to her own ears. As much as she despised admitting it, she herself was upset. This dispute was unbalancing her qi and humors. “It is hardly your own.”

The air grew colder, and golden eyes narrowed imperiously. “I have claimed it, and that is enough. You are not wanted here.”

Bao Qingling nodded once, crossing her arms behind her back. She looked straight ahead into the darkness and acid mist which blocked Bai Meizhen from her sight. “I wished to offer you an explanation. If you do not want it, that is fine. I will leave, and we will put this whole absurdity behind us.”

Bao Qingling was not good at this. Any of her brothers or sisters would be better. A Bao could charm the skin from a snake or the pearl from a dragon. But Bao Qingling was not a treasure. She was the scrap and waste left from their making. She understood this well. That woman, her mother, had told her so often enough.

“Absurdity?” Bai Meizhen sounded angrier still.

Already, she had made errors. Ridiculous.

“What else would you call it when I, Bao Qingling, abandon my projects for weeks on end?” She pushed on regardless. She had only come because she hated when people refused to explain themselves. Yes, that was the only reason. “That I, Bao Qingling, would act like a lovesick girl?”

She grimaced at the memories. The warm, fluttery feeling had felt so alien but addictive.

“Do you understand how exhausting it was?” Bao Qingling asked, uncaring of the sizzling droplets of acid beading on her coverings.

Bai Meizhen, or the darkness which Bao Qingling presumed to be her, shook and reeled back. “Well, I apologize then that you found it so insufferable!”

Qingling grimaced, rubbing her forehead irritably with a gloved hand. “No. An intense spar is exhausting. That does not mean it is unwanted.” How in the world was one meant to do this? “You cannot do such things without rest. I—”

She paused, words jumbling on her tongue, an old and most unwelcome ache blooming in her head. The next words that came from her mouth cracked.

“--I can’t, Meizhen. Understand this. I gave you so much time, but I can’t do this everyday. I thought we had an agreement that today was for rest. I do not like broken agreements.”

Ugly. Stupid, clumsy words. Worthless, wretched things. This was why she despised dealings outside of simple contracts.

“I did not think I needed a contract and a schedule to visit my… my…” The angry voice of the serpent wavered.

Bao Qingling hunched her shoulders, fists clenching behind her back. “Then you chose poorly. I need organization. I need order.” Bao Qingling grimaced, pulling down her mask, despite the sting of the acid on her skin. “And I need silence at times. Bai Meizhen, if you cannot accept this about me, I do not think our arrangement can continue.”

She looked ahead into the churning acidic clouds, steeled for the response. Dreams ended. Such was life.

***​

Bai Meizhen was silent, seated upon the stone in the center of the field, shrouded by the frothing waters of her mantle. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, leaving her to look out over them at Bao Qingling.

A part of her, a large part of her, wanted to rage. The wounded pride of an imperial serpent told her that she could not forgive such a slight. It told her that anyone who dared harm her so must be crushed without mercy or consideration.

Yes, every lesson she had learned in her life told her to rage. To wrap herself in pride and wrath and erase the mistake she had made in opening herself to be wounded by an outsider. Again.

How miserable. When she was alone again, how warm would her pride keep her?

She forced herself to look back at the last few weeks, stripped of the almost druglike haze of happiness. She remembered a tersely written letter informing a commissioner that their project was delayed and a half-dozen other little incidents with the clarity of memory that blessed and cursed those who cultivated. She remembered little signs of stress and agitation that she had ignored in her blissful state.

“Do you truly value your work over me?”

She saw Qingling grimace beyond the veil of mist and acidic rain. “That is unfair. Do you value your own ambitions in life over me?”

Meizhen’s fingers tightened to a white-knuckled grip on her gown. No, obviously, the bliss drunk girl she had been recently wanted to shout. Now, it was the cold serpent of pride that spoke the true answer. Yes, she did. If her obligation to her aunt and her ambitions on the ambassadorship demanded, she would put them first.

She saw Qingling lower her arms, fists balled at her sides as she looked away. “My harshness was excessive. For that, I apologize.”

The words sounded like they were dragged out by hooks. Bai Meizhen let out an unladylike snort, certainly not a sniffle.

Bao Qingling, too, had the pride of a Bai. It was something Bai Meizhen liked about her. Ling Qi was too humble and forgetful, oftentimes to the point of frustration. In this…

The darkness began to boil away, along with the clouds and mist. The pressure her anger and dry tears had put on her meridians dissipated, stilling churning qi

“For my own inattentiveness, I, too, will apologize,” Bai Meizhen bit out, stepping down from the stone to glide across the half-melted earth. The part of her aligned to her family arts burned at even that much, but it was a good burn. In truth, she was still angry and hurt.

We harm, and we are harmed in turn.

This was a truth she had realized, and it banked those feelings to a dull glow.

Bao Qingling gave her a wary look, smoke still rising from her headwrap and outerwear where the acid had burned itself out.

“I would like to continue our arrangement. If you are amenable.” It took all of her poise not to let her voice quaver.

“I see,” Bao Qingling said stiffly, clearly bewildered. “This pleases me. I hope we can avoid such trouble in the future.” Her voice was thick with uncertainty. Meizhen was glad that she was not the only one all but flailing wildly.

Qingling’s hand jerked up, and she pulled off the goggles protecting her eyes, holding them out without looking at Meizhen. “Here.”

Meizhen stared at the goggles in bewilderment.

Qingling grimaced, still looking away. “Your eyes.”

She blinked and then felt a sudden horror. She had been so distressed that her face must be in a terrible state, wet and puffy eyed. She must look hideous right now. She snatched the goggles out of Qingling’s hand and turned around immediately. “I’m sorry for showing you such an ugly sight.”

“Ridiculous,” Qingling grunted.

“Meizhen pulled back her hair, and eyeing the smoked lenses, she tried to work out how best to arrange this without ruining her hair further.

“You’ve never been ugly,” Qingling continued stiffly. “I can’t even imagine what could make you so.”

“O-oh.” Meizhen did not turn around, clutching the goggles to her chest. “Then, why?”

“I thought you’d not like to be seen with such vulnerability,” the other girl said awkwardly.

Meizhen breathed in, lowering the goggles to her side. She turned back to Qingling, who was facing away too. “If it is you, it is fine. Perhaps we should stay and ruin the field. It would be for the best if it seemed a spar took place.”

She slipped her hand into Qingling’s.

They would discover how to move forward. Together.