The sound of a plate shattering against the floor cut through the boisterous conversation of the tavern like a scythe through wheat.

“You dare?”

Yujin’s blood ran cold at those words. Only one sort of individual spoke like that and sure enough, as she looked up from the table she was serving, she saw her fellow waitress cowering away from a young woman in garbs far too fine to belong to any mortal.

There was a cultivator amongst them.

“Someone get the guard,” a voice quietly hissed, followed by a young man scampering out the front.

Yujin barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on the veritable tiger amongst their number. That the mother of one had failed to notice prior to now was something she chose to blame on the busyness of the restaurant and her own frazzled nature. Because while she had certainly worked tables as a young woman, that had been a lifetime ago, and she found her skill at delivering food and taking orders slow to reform.

Much to the ire of the grizzled old man that had hired her.

Though as she took an unconscious step back, she had to wonder if even her younger self would have been lost amidst the many occupied but now silent tables before her.

Even on its busiest night, her old workplace had never once been able to boast the numbers that even the sole restaurant of Jiangshi Fortress Three now served on a daily basis. The Red Blossom was not the dainty little tavern she had worked in as a girl. It served military men and women for the most part, with a smattering of civilian families and travelers.

Off-duty militia. A group that was as rowdy off-duty as they were disciplined inside it.

The numbers were slowly changing though. As the shanty town beyond the walls of the fortress grew – as more men and women decided to put down roots in the shade of the fortress rather than make the rest of the journey to ever-growing Jiangshi proper.

Yujin could hardly blame some of them. They had traveled far enough as it was.

And while her neighbors in Apart Ment Four often groused about all the strange new faces in their new home, Yujin found that the newcomers were good and decent folk… for the most part.

A little strange in their mannerisms perhaps, but generally good.

At the very least, her repertoire of dishes had grown as a result of her correspondences with a few newcomer families. After all, what did it matter if you had been borne amidst sand dunes or deep jungles? Weren’t they all Imperials?

“You think to serve me this slop and then have the gall to ask for payment?”

As if in response to her thoughts, a single voice reminded her that ‘no, they weren’t all Imperials’. For whatever bond might exist between countrymen was insignificant compared to the gulf between mortals and cultivators.

Poor Melan, the shop’s iconic beauty, cowered as the cultivator slowly rose from her seat, hand settling comfortably over the hilt of her sword.

“Ma’am?” The guard had arrived, clad in their iconic steel breastplates, they were a welcome sight as no less than a dozen of the city’s protectors stepped into the room. She noticed their rifles were slung over their shoulders, yet the clasps of the holsters at their belt were now unclasped, revealing the black stock of the revolvers within. “I would ask that you calm down and remove your hand from your weapon.”

Even as he spoke, people took the opportunity to leave, slipping past the newly arrived guardsmen like water around a stone. Yujin might have joined them were she not still focused on Melan, who seemed frozen in fear.

The cultivator paused, her gaze slowly twisting toward the new arrivals. “And who are you to command me so?”

Her tone was… difficult to parse. It wasn’t quite wary, but it was something close to it. By contrast, it was abundantly clear how the guardsmen felt about the situation.

They were nervous. Understandably so. Yet none balked from their duty.

“Jiangshi Central Militia Guard,” the leader said, his voice only slightly distorted by the helm he wore. He sounded older, roughly of an age with her own husband. “And I once again politely request that you remove your hand from your weapon.”

“Jiangshi?” The cultivator said. “Is that the name of this place? I’ve never heard of it.”

Yujin took the opportunity that was presented, inching forward she grabbed her colleague by the arm and – quietly – edged back toward the exit.

“It’s relatively new,” the guard said slowly.

“Hmmm,” the woman paused. “And which sects lay claim to this territory? I had heard the northern provinces bereft of talented practitioners, but for me not to have felt a single of my… peers since entering this town? It is curious. Has the war truly drained you of what meager talent you once possessed?”

“The Overseer of Jiangshi is currently pre-occupied with other matters. As are his followers.”

“That’s it?” The woman laughed. “A man and a few of his harpies? Not a sect?”

Yujin rightly bristled, as did the militia.

“I guess there’s nothing for me to worry about then if I take your punishment into my own hands.” The entire room stiffened with alarm as the woman’s grip on her blade became firmer. “Indeed, the owner of this place might be obliged to thank me for chastising his guard force in his absence. For the audacity of daring to stand against a cultivator. That could invite all sorts of trouble down on his head.”

Finally, the guards' revolvers left their holsters to be aimed at the woman – yet she showed not a hint of recognition of the threat they presented. A slight cocking of the head was all the response the action provoked.

“Do you mean to ward me off with talismans?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I truly am in the boonies.”

Yujin was already leaving, dragging Melan with her as she slipped gratefully past the militia and towards the exit.

The militia leader’s voice was surprisingly calm as he spoke again, his voice echoing through the entrance to the restaurant as Yujin finally broke out into the daylight outside – the streets surrounding the restaurant now deserted.

“Ma’am, this is your final warning. Unhand your weapon and vacate the premis-”

There was a slight parting of air and a pained grunt rang out, though it was followed barely a moment later by the sound of gunfire.

Yujin did not stay to hear the outcome. She started to sprint, rushing past another squad of militia rushing in the opposite direction. She said a prayer for them though. And the men inside the restaurant.

If they still lived.

---------------------

“Old Husolt obviously lost the hand, but he’ll never have to pay for another drink again,” her husband reported cheerily as he sank gratefully into ‘his’ armchair. “I mean, the man killed a cultivator. With help from his squad, but still!”

Yujin herself was far less sanguine as she added a number of spices to the evening’s stew. Though she was pleased to be able to talk to him in the living room while she worked in the kitchen. Some women – and men – were less than happy with the ‘open space’ design of the Apartment’s and had quietly taken steps to rectify it, but Yujin enjoyed it.

“I imagine that will be of great comfort to him when he is thrown out onto the street,” she murmured, once more saying a prayer for the brave militiaman.

Perhaps there was something they could do for him? They had a spare room with Lin gone.

“The street?” Her husband said, turning to her in disbelief as he pulled at the latches of his vambrace. “Honey, this isn’t some sect guard. This is Jiangshi. For being injured in duty Husolt will be receiving a silver a week until the day he croaks.”

Finally, her husband managed to get his armor off, letting it hit the floor with a thunk – much to her irritation – before he moved onto the other. “Empress, that’s even if he doesn’t retire. One hand’s an inconvenience, but you don’t need two to operate the radios – and experience like Husolt’s is hard to come by.”

“A silver?” she asked. “Who’s going to give him that?”

Had the rest of the militia gotten together?

“The… paymaster?” Her husband spoke slowly.

Yujin blanched, almost burning herself on the stove. “Is someone doctoring the pay-books!? Please tell me you aren’t involved in this foolishness!”

Even if it was for a good cause… well, never mind what would happen to her and her husband if the Lord Overseer found out, what would happen to Lin? She might have been the man’s woman, but men were fickle beasts at the best of times – cultivators even moreso.

She would not bet on lust winning out over pride if he were to discover his men had been stealing from him.

Especially after he has been so generous already, she thought frantically, eyes roaming around the Apart Ment.

“Doctoring?” Her husband had the audacity to laugh. “The Overseer was the one who introduced it. Same as the Apart Ments. And I’m thankful for his beneficence every day. As I imagine Husolt is too.” He paused. “Can’t imagine any other reason he’d be so foolish as to try and confront a cultivator like that. Sure, the rulebook says were supposed to confront anyone breaking the law… but a cultivator? When the Overseer and the Ladies are out of the city?”

Yujin was barely listening. Her focus was entirely on her husband’s first words.

The Overseer is paying for Husolt’s… I don’t know. What would you call it. Injury pay?

Her thought’s were interrupted as her husband’s mirth turned solemn and he turned to gaze up at her. “Though I’m thankful for it. I… when I heard what was happening on the radio, it was all I could do to stay where I was and not rush over to you. I’d have happily lost both of my arms and my legs if it kept you safe.”

Despite herself, the mother of one found herself blushing like a maiden half her age as her husband gazed lovingly up at her. In the end she had to turn away.

“I’m sure I would have been fine,” she lied. “And you’d have been too late to do anything. And in trouble besides. You might even have lost your position. Which I’d have been annoyed at you because our daughter fought hard to get it for you.”

A position as a radio operator in the city’s command center was a rightly coveted position – not just for the extra pay and safety, but for the ability to work with the Overseer mystic artifacts.

Thought it is not as if any member of the militia is bereft of those opportunities, she thought as she finally cut the heat of the ‘electric’ stove she was using.

“Perhaps,” Her husband said, his own gaze turning towards the ‘television’ that sat in the far corner of the room.

Normally it was the first thing her husband turned on the moment he got in from work, eager to see some new fantastical tale told by the precocious and spirited spirits inside - tonight though he seemed content simply to talk.

Yujin found that despite the rather dire topic… she enjoyed it. For while she certainly enjoyed the delights of the television too, particularly the ‘soap operas’, some days she did miss just… sitting and chatting with the man she loved over the fire-place. Like they used to when Lin was still a part of their household and not galivanting about the big city – though se supposed they were also living in a big city now?

Perhaps she’d make it a rule? No television before dinner? At the very least, it would give the spirits a much-needed opportunity to rest within their little boxy home.

Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

“Though it’s got me thinking.” Her husband pulled off his boots. “I hope Lin is safe in the city. They’ve got a lot more cultivators roaming around than us.”

Yujin resisted the urge to smile. Her husband was a man torn between two spots in life. He’d acceded to Lin’s wish for him to stay ‘safe’ in the city, but only after much begging on the part of their strong willed daughter. And it weighed on him.

“Our daughter is the woman of the most powerful man in the province – beyond the Magistrate herself.” She started to ladle stew out into bowls – made of genuine white ceramic! – before taking them over to the table. “I’m sure she’s doing just fine.”

Sniffed.

Her husband made an exaggerated sniff as he sat down. He’d never once hidden the fact that he was not terribly impressed with Lin’s position as the Overseer’s woman, but made sure to keep his complaints non-verbal.

Beneficent as the Overseer might have been, he was still a cultivator, and not likely to take well to being badmouthed by the father of one of her concubines.

His mood had only soured further with Lin’s move to the big city. Of course, that was always going to have been the case. Whether she moved across the continent or down the street, Daddy was having trouble letting go of his little girl.

Though, given how well things are going with his job… well, it might be worth trying for another, Yujin thought absently as she sipped on her strew, a slight tinge of pink reaching her cheeks. She wasn’t that old, yet. And we’ve been eating well. And even if it didn’t take, the process would serve as a decent enough ‘distraction’.

For the moment though, she gripped his hand in hers. “Oh, don’t be like that. She’s happy isn’t she? You read her last letter.”

“S’not right,” her husband moped. “Sure, he’s happy now, but what if he gets bored of her? Who will want her?”

As much as Yujin hated to admit it, there was some truth to that sentiment. Few men would be willing to bed a wife who they knew had been with a veritable demi-god. Yujin knew she wouldn’t want to be competing with the memories of Lady An or Ren if her husband had been so lucky in his youth.

“Well…” she paused. “There exist other avenues for her. She’s growing into a woman of power in her own right. She mentioned her ‘engineering department’.”

A concept neither of them really understood. It sort of sounded like an apprenticeship program… but for people that already knew the craft?

And not just one craft. Several.

No, neither of them understood it at all. Though that was par for the course where their strongwilled daughter was concerned.

Yujin patted her husband’s callused hand gently. “She’s a smart girl. She’ll be fine.”

Her husband nodded slowly. “I just hope she’s safe. Strong willed or not, she’s a delicate girl.” He smiled gently. “Do you remember the face she used to make every time she was forced to join us in the fields.”

The memory brought a smile to Yujin’s face. She certainly did remember. She also remembered how the girl tricked a small army of young men into ‘taking her spot’ each time harvesting and planting season came around.

“Do you remember the Hen boy who-”

Whatever else she might have been about to say was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Curious, she stood up to answer it, content to let her husband stay off his feet after a long day – even if her own feet were still pretty sore from a shift that had been cut short by the cultivator’s arrival.

“Wu!” Yujin cheered as she opened the door to find one of their new neighbors standing there.

The woman’s darkly tanned skin stood out against the absurdly clean and white magical lights of the hallway. Her equally dark skinned husband stood behind her, his militia outfit stripped down to just the knee guards and boots with a pair of loose pants and a sleeveless shirt over the top.

“Yujin,” the woman responded with a smile, her strong Eastern accent coming full in through. “I heard about the troubles at the restaurant and came over to see if you were ok?”

The kind words and hopeful smile on the woman’s face brought a smile to Yujin’s own.

“I’m doing just fine.” She opened the door wider. “Would the pair of you like to come inside? We were just having dinner.”

And she had plenty for everyone.

They were all Imperials after all.

-----------------

“So, what do you think?”

Jack stared at the many spent brass casings scattered around the place, the perforated dummies and the many men of the engineering department who were fairly unsubtle in their attempts to hide against the back wall.

The room was filled with the sickly sweet scent of expended gunpowder.

Then he looked over to where Lin stood behind a gleaming and smoking abomination of steel and brass, her hand still on the cranking mechanism.

“Was the cackling truly necessary?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Her tone brooked no argument.

Well, fair enough, he thought.

He did much the same when electrifying things after all.

“Then I think you and this department have just single handedly made the Jiangshi militia the most powerful force on the continent.”

He let the cheers of the crowd behind him wash over him, as blacksmiths, mathematicians, carpenters and various other craftsmen of various descriptions hugged each other or patted themselves on the back.

The only exception was a woman who stood to the far right of the group, not isolated by stigma but by awe.

Huang.

The woman he’d originally come down here to speak to before Lin had waylaid him for this demonstration – and hadn’t it been strange not to just find Huang here.

Yet, as a change of pace from her usual behavior when he was around, the former-magistrate wasn’t staring at him.

Instead she only had eyes for the oversized and smoking gatling gun that Lin had just been operating.

“Can… can I have a go?” she finally asked.