Finally extracting himself from the surprise that the smell had brought upon him, Elder Mo poured the wine into the cup. Still, his actions had a little hesitation now as the Elder frowned at the wine. For an Elder like him, it was as simple as breathing to grasp the fact that the wine before him was no simple libation. It was a masterful work, one that layered multiple scents.
Elder Mo brought the full cup to his face, swirling it and releasing the aroma near his nose. His eyes narrowed again as the unmistakeable smell of plum blossoms filled the room, doubly confirming his initial impression. Hesitating no longer, the Elder tossed the wine into his mouth and froze. When he finally unfroze, he smacked the cup down with force and exhaled a breath, one that brought with it a flow of turbid chi.
“Good wine. Very good wine!” Elder Mo said, pouring another cup.
“Then I have completed the assignment?” Wu Ying said, relief flowing through him. But that relief was dashed by the next pronouncement.
“Good wine. But it’s not the Tung family plum blossom wine. This is too good.” Elder Mo sipped on the wine more carefully now. “Their wine has never been this good.”
“Elder Mo—”
Elder Mo sipped on the cup as he stared at Wu Ying. Tapping his chin, he offered magnanimously, “Tell me where you got this wine and I’ll make the crippling quick.”
“This is Tung plum blossom wine. I got it directly from the winemaker himself.” A slight pause, then Wu Ying added, “Well, from his storeroom via his nephew. But Uncle Tang saw it all.”
“Really. The kind of stories children will make up,” Elder Mo said, shaking his head. With a flick of his fingers, Wu Ying’s feet were swept out from under him as a wave of force took him to his knees. “Kowtow[28] and beg for forgiveness for making up such lies.”
Wu Ying’s chest burned with anger as he struggled to his feet with numb legs. Elder Mo gestured again and Wu Ying slammed into the floor, catching himself with one hand while the Elder tsked. All around, conversations ceased as they watched Wu Ying being disciplined.
“You dare to continue this farce? You do not know how high are the heavens, do you?”
“I have done nothing wrong,” Wu Ying said as he tried to force himself onto his feet. Yet he found it impossible as a formless pressure pushed down on his body.
Those nearby felt it too, the use of chi pressuring them all. Wu Ying struggled to keep his body upright, mostly via stubborn will, as he felt his muscles strain and bones creak under the pressure. As Elder Mo’s face darkened further, a light cough broke the deepening silence in the admission hall. The sect members blinked and turned their heads to be greeted by the sight of a younger Elder with dark hair and a light smile.
“Elder Cheng!” Wu Ying gasped in surprise at seeing his sponsor for the first time in months. For a second, hope flared in his chest—then he recalled Liu Tsong’s comment. There was no way Elder Cheng was there to save him.
“Are those the jars I requested?” Elder Cheng Zhao Wan said. He walked forward, sniffing the air. “That smells amazing. But why is one open?”
“Elder Cheng.” Elder Mo looked at Elder Cheng and shook his head. “I’m sorry you’ve been bothered about this. This despicable person was attempting to pass off this wine to fulfill your assignment. But while it is good wine, it is not the plum blossom wine you once shared with us all.”
Elder Cheng frowned as he walked over, tilting his head. As he neared the group, his eyes widened when he actually noticed Wu Ying, then he returned his attention to the smug Elder. “This wine smells very familiar though. May I?”
“Of course.” Elder Mo gestured to one of the attendants.
When Wu Ying tried to stand back up, Zhao Wan shook his head and Wu Ying stayed where he was, on one knee with his teeth gritted as Elder Mo’s formless pressure exerted itself on him. A short while later, the attendant was back with a clean cup. Elder Mo poured for Zhao Wan.
Elder Cheng repeated Elder Mo’s actions, sniffing, tasting, then slamming back the entire drink. His eyes widened before he too exhaled a turbid breath. “Good wine. It sends the chi in my core singing. I can feel my chi purifying.”
“It’s true. But it is not the Tung plum blossom wine,” Elder Mo said, his lips thinned.
“It is,” Wu Ying growled.
Another flick of his finger sent Wu Ying sprawling, his face stinging from an unseen, chi-driven slap.
“You sick dog. You dare speak when your betters are speaking.” Elder Mo raised his hand to strike again, but Elder Cheng spoke up.
“Junior Long is correct though. This is Tung plum blossom wine,” Elder Cheng said.
“What? No. This is much stronger than what was provided before,” Elder Mo said, shaking his head. “Elder Cheng, you are not trying to cover for your sponsored member, are you?”
“Have I ever?” Elder Cheng said, raising a single eyebrow.
Elder Mo’s face grew taut as he slowly shook his head in acknowledgement of Elder Cheng’s well-known proclivities.
“This is Tung plum blossom wine, but it is the family’s own collection. They only sell the dregs to the public. The failures. Even that, as you know, is rare enough. This is worth much more. It’s no wonder that Elder Mo does not recognize the taste though—only a few outside of their family have tried it. I would be interested to know how Junior Long managed to get three such jars. Even the single jar I had the pleasure of trying was hard to come by.”
“Personal collection?” Elder Mo’s face paled as he clearly recalled the implausible story Wu Ying had related. Eying the bleeding Wu Ying, he sniffed. “Well. It seems you have completed the assignment.”
Wu Ying pushed himself to his feet once again, but this time, no formless pressure or strike robbed him of his footing. Reaching into his pouch, Wu Ying pulled out his sect stamp and handed it to the attendant, who tapped it against the sealing block. The sweating attendant handed the sect stamp back with the assignment marked complete.
“Well, go. Unless you intend to take another assignment?” Elder Mo said.
Slowly, the hall broke into life again as most considered the free show over.
“No, Elder. I am content with my assignment with Elder Huang, if that is still available,” Wu Ying said, keeping his head down. He burnt with the injustice of the accusation, of the blows he’d received, but he could not act out. The difference in station between the two was too wide. Any disrespect would put his own standing in jeopardy.
“It is. Go.”
Wu Ying was turning around when Elder Cheng’s voice cut in. “Wait.”
“Yes, Elder?” Wu Ying turned back.
“Give me your sect token.” Wu Ying frowned but handed it to Elder Cheng, who passed his own token over it before tossing Wu Ying’s back to him. “It is customary to provide a higher remuneration for work that is completed over the specifications, and this is far and above my request.” Zhao Wan smiled, looking Wu Ying up and down carefully. “It seems I was right and you do have some fate with me.”
“Elder.” Wu Ying bowed after storing his seal, unsure of what to say. Better to be polite and say nothing.
“Now, Elder Mo, I recall hearing that you would compensate for the open jar,” Elder Cheng said, his eyes glittering with malice. “This jar cannot be stored any longer. And you know that I always serve three such jars during the autumn festival. How am I to do so with one jar open now?”
Elder Mo’s eyes tightened as he looked at Elder Cheng’s wide, smiling face then down at Wu Ying, who was slowly backing away. Elder Mo’s lips twisted into a sneer before he controlled it and smiled back at Zhao Wan.
“Well, Elder Cheng, I never expected something like this to occur…”