Guarded Curiosity
for @coldwind-shiningstars, a fic featuring their OC - Wen Qing/Li Xiaofan, 3.1k, pre-relationship academic flirting. Thank you Novy for letting me borrow your OC and I hope I got her right!
Wen Qing was hardly in any sort of position optimal for hearing gossip – indeed, she had never had the opportunity nor inclination to be a sophisticated and well-connected lady who traded in rumours. But the reputation of the new mistress of the Unclean Realm had not failed to reach her ears. It was, in this particular case, a matter of vocation. The new Nie-furen was apparently extraordinarily sharp-minded and inclined towards matters of science and philosophy, and had produced numerous writings on the subjects with voracious speed and energy. She was also said to have amassed an impressive circle of female companions, among them the most forward-thinking minds in cultivation theory.
There were plenty who might have denounced such behaviour in a wife, but Nie-furen was apparently, for all her intellect, a polite and unassuming personality, and well-attuned to the affairs of the household; as such, naysayers had little to find fault with.
But Wen Qing knew little of this when she first heard the name Li Xiaofan. For her, it was merely a name in the footnotes of a recent medical publication, read with a furrowed brow over her morning congee, that had compelled her to track down the individual in question. It was to her deep surprise to learn that this woman was the wife of Nie Huaisang, and that she was in search of intellectual companions of a demographic very similar to Wen Qing. Wen Qing’s connections had then swiftly obtained her an invitation to the Unclean Realm.
As such, Wen Qing found herself, neutrally dressed in pale gray, before a small audience of women assembled in Li Xiaofan’s own study. Li Xiaofan herself sat in the centre of their semicircle. She was unexpectedly slight and unremarkable compared to the others, who seemed to be subtly competing with one another in finery; she even wore very few of the adornments fitting for a sect leader’s wife, contenting herself solely with a simple bronze headpiece, jade earrings, and a few rings. What did stand out about her were her eyes – exceptionally steady in their gaze, and betraying nothing of the thoughts behind them.
Wen Qing was unaccustomed to this sort of public scrutiny, especially within this conclave of female camaraderie, wherein the rules seemed to be deeply and imperceptibly etched into the setting. Nonetheless, she steeled herself and, smoothing out the stack of paper in her hands, began to read.
The reception was… not quite chaos, although something adjacent to it. There was a brief period of silence when Wen Qing finished reading, and then a woman sporting large, opulent green earrings asked a question to which Wen Qing had barely time to respond before another woman intervened with another question, clearly designed to undermine the first. It was little time before a cryptic and impassioned debate had broken out that seemed at something of a remove from the topic at hand, and much more based in the simmering conflicts and resentments of the group.
Wen Qing knew well enough when to keep her tongue. But she felt rather at a loss as to what to do, still standing before her preoccupied audience. She was tapping restlessly at the stack of paper she held, and considering taking the risk of clearing her throat so as at least to issue some kind of concluding thanks or acknowledgment, when she heard a voice speak disconcertingly close to her.
“Excuse me, guniang.”
Wen Qing had trained herself out of flinching years ago; she merely let the little shock pass through her, soundlessly as lightning blinking across the sky. She turned to find that Li Xiaofan had materialized behind her, having approached silently amidst the heated and calamitous debate. Her face wore the same placid, unforthcoming expression as it had since Wen Qing had set foot in the room.
“Nie-furen.” Wen Qing inclined her head. “I thank you for your hospitality, and for allowing me to speak today.”
“The privilege was ours,” the other woman replied. “But, guniang, may I trouble you to have a look at your notes?”
“My notes?” repeated Wen Qing.
“I only wished to see if you had diagrams handy.” Li Xiaofan’s voice was mannerly, near-apologetic, and yet also firm in resolve. She betrayed none of the imperiousness that ladies of the household often did, but she was clearly not struggling to fit into her role either.
“Of course.” Wen Qing offered the stack of papers. “They are interspersed throughout the written argument – you may peruse them as you like.”
Li Xiaofan stretched out both her hands, as if formally accepting a gift. There really was an unexpected elegance to her movements.
Flicking through the pages, a tiny frown came over Li Xiaofan’s face. She paused on one page for a moment, and then nodded to herself. “Yes, it’s what I thought.” She looked up again. “Forgive me for pointing it out, guniang, but I’m afraid there is a potential flaw in this diagram. I thought so as I was listening, but I needed to look for myself.”
“A flaw?” Wen Qing was disconcerted, not only at her own mistake, but at the level of attentiveness on the part of the other woman. Especially in light of the cacophony of feedback from her companions, it had been difficult to tell if she had been listening at all, let alone following along with such precision.
Wen Qing narrowed her eyes, taking another look at Li Xiaofan. Her tone in raising the issue had continued to be near-deferential, but there was a strange expression emanating from the exactitude of her gaze and the set of her mouth – possibly something like satisfaction.
Wen Qing could not suppress a spark of interest.
“A flaw,” she repeated, moving in to look at the diagram over Li Xiaofan’s shoulder. “Please, explain it to me.”
***
Before his death, certain people, especially those of a more sentimental nature, had hoped for Nie Mingjue to marry, commenting that a woman’s touch would make the Unclean Realm more hospitable. But no such hope had been attached to his younger brother, whose aesthetic tastes were well known (and widely panned).
“Yes, my husband has quite the passion for flower arrangements,” Li Xiaofan said, reaching out to delicately caress one of the roses at the side of the stone path. “He truly has transformed the place – or so I’m told. Of course, I never visited before our courtship.”
“It looks lovely,” Wen Qing volunteered. Serviceable enough, as a response.
“Do you like flowers, Wen-guniang?” Her companion asked. “I suppose you must, for their medicinal purposes.”
“I don’t have such a one-track mind. I will confess to a weakness for their beauty as well.”
Li Xiaofan relinquished the rose blossom. “Do you consider appreciation of beauty to be a weakness?”
“Not inherently,” Wen Qing replied. “But surely one must admit it has that potential.”
“I see.” Li Xiaofan resumed walking, and Wen Qing hastened to match her pace. “For the record, I am less interested in flowers for their aesthetics, myself – although you could find a few among my companions who have made that their area of study. I have recently developed a pet interest in grafting.”
“Grafting?”
“Indeed. I have been conducting some experiments – I can show you the plants in question later, and my notes, if you are interested.”
“Most certainly.” Wen Qing gestured at the flower boxes lining the walkway. “Are any of these your creations, then?”
“Oh, no!” Li Xiaofan gave a little laugh. “I would never dare to tinker with my husband’s roses. He is rather particular about them.”
“I see.” Wen Qing paused. “It seems you and Nie-zongzhu keep your interests separate.”
Li Xiaofan eyed her with a furtive scrutiny. “My husband has his own pursuits, and I have mine. This is how ideal marriages are conducted, I think.”
Wen Qing inclined her head in concession. “I wouldn’t know, of course.”
“Naturally. Did you ever intend to get married?”
Wen Qing stopped for a moment to properly look her in the eye. “No,” she said honestly. “Marriage was always a means to an end – a possibility, for the protection of me and mine. Nothing more.” For a-Ning, especially – and it was so disconcerting, to be making decisions without a care for a-Ning. He was strong now, strong beyond comprehension – she had to remember that. “Now, I have so few ties, marriage would be only a pursuit of pleasure. And I sense… well. It would bring little of that, for me.”
That exacting gaze was still resting on her, not faltering for a moment. It was remarkable, how much more calculating Li XIaofan’s eyes were, up close like this. “You have no interest in comfort and security for your own sake?”
“I believe I am capable of creating them myself.” Wen Qing hesitated for a moment. It had been a long time since she had been in a formal conversation that required this kind of guardedness. “But the first, I’ll admit, has never really enticed me. I prefer my work to leisure. And the second – well, how guaranteed can such a thing be?”
“We think alike, then,” said Li Xiaofan. “My husband is a lover of leisure – although his mind is frequently at work. As for me, my work is soothing to me. He coaxes me to lay it aside every now and then, and I coax him to put his observations to use. As such, we work together quite efficiently.”
Wen Qing nodded along. The particular balancing mechanisms of marriage were still quite foreign to her. In the past, she had often been unnerved by married women outside her family. Their bound hair and their assured poise signaled a seamless adoption of the rites of the household - and, secretly, subliminally, the rites of the bedchamber. The women made her dread such a conference of knowledge upon herself, and yet provoked an inexplicable curiosity in her as well. But Wen Qing had also known the dangers of curiosity when unguarded.
This ritual no longer gave her the same trepidation, but it jarred her to be reminded that Li Xiaofan was in such a different class of women from her. Though it was difficult to imagine her and Nie Huaisang engaged in any kind of relations.
All the same, it was perhaps a comfort to be navigating this creeping intimacy with an attached woman. One who had her own house and husband, who needed nothing from Wen Qing except her intellectual prowess, and whose other designs on her were solely in the province of wanting.
Wanting what, exactly? Wen Qing turned her head ever so slightly to take in a sidelong glance at the other woman. Li Xiaofan’s face betrayed no intention, her small, puckered mouth completely impassive. Certainly, given her views on marriage, she did not seem the sentimental type – whatever passions this woman was capable of, they did not seem to be based in flights of fancy. Wen Qing could not help wondering what it would take to break that carefully controlled neutrality of expression.
“Wen-guniang?” Li Xiaofan lifted her eyebrows. The expression was undeniably striking on her.
Wen Qing felt like shaking herself. “Ah, forgive me. I am not usually so distracted – I have had a long journey.”
“Of course.”
“It is admirable that you have achieved such a partnership,” Wen Qing continued, more confidently. “All couples should hope to be so well-balanced.”
“Indeed. You were concerned with such balance today, were you not? With your articulation of the interactions of the Zang-fu. It was surprisingly metaphorical.”
Wen Qing inclined her head. “That presentation was considerably more philosophical than my usual inclinations. I suppose recent circumstances have prompted me to think more… abstractly.”
“You specialized in acupuncture, correct?”
“Largely. I also pursued some more… experimental lines of thought.”
LI Xiaofan quirked her lips, but made no more insistent inquiry. “I see.”
Wen Qing hastened on. “In truth, it was your remarks on moxibustion that compelled me here.”
“Oh, that?” Li Xiaofan swept her robes up as they progressed up a small series of steps that opened out into a courtyard. “I’m surprised it had such far-reaching influence, really. Medicine is more of a side project for me. I am certain Wen-guniang’s insights would make me seem quite foolish in comparison.”
She had not quite mastered the composure of a great lady, Wen Qing thought. Such a performance of modesty ought to be utterly free of contempt, and buoyed by a certain warmth and grace that underlined the speaker’s being ultimately above the judgment of the other. Li Xiaofan had not quite grasped the cadence of such a response yet, it seemed – the tone came down in some muddled place between smug and perfunctory. It was quite an intriguing chink in her armour.
“Nie-furen is too kind,” Wen Qing replied smoothly. “Of course, I’m aware of the focus of much of your work. But at what age did you take an interest in medicine?”
“Early,” replied Li Xiaofan. “I did not get a chance to study it formally until shortly after my marriage. But I have always been interested in the workings of the physical body.”
Naturally. Li Xiaofan’s origins would not have permitted her to devote herself to extensive scholarship. Such a mercantile family would have been much more concerned with producing a marriageable daughter than a scholarly one. But she had clearly had a fierce drive for knowledge, if the rumours were to be believed.
“The workings of the physical body,” Wen Qing repeated. “And do your companions share such an interest?” She winced internally. Heavens, this woman made her clumsy.
“Some of them,” the other woman replied evenly. “Though sometimes through the aim of achieving transcendence – and through more unconventional means.”
Wen Qing paused. “Do you mean dual cultivation?”
Li Xiaofan turned her head to meet Wen Qing’s gaze. Her eyes betrayed a glint. “Not quite.”
“More than two?”
A little smile blossomed in the corner of her mouth. “Precisely.”
A new sensation was taking root inside Wen Qing, something like exhilaration – if exhilaration was the proper word for a kind of momentary vindication that brought a palpably physical, almost dizzying effect. Amidst the towering walls and century-old stonework, she was in uncharted waters.
“There is something so charming about the contrast of flower and stone,” Wen Qing commented. “It’s the kind of artistic touch that, I’m told, the Unclean Realm has been lacking in the past.”
Li Xiaofan cast another amused, knowing look at her. “You are fond of diverting the discussion, aren’t you?”
“So are you.”
“Not at all.” Li Xiaofan began to move again, taking long, quick strides. “I am not one for evasion. I am merely patient.”
Wen Qing quickened her pace as well. “So patient that I imagine you intend to keep me here for at least several weeks before my work reaches a level that you deem publishable.”
“Keep you here?” Li Xiaofan laughed, a soft and light sound that seemed unsuited to the tone of their conversation. “Do you imagine this as a prison, Wen-guniang?”
“Of course not.” Wen Qing lowered her head in an appropriately demure gesture, but maintained the steady conviction in her voice. “I only meant that Nie-furen has famously high standards.”
Li Xiaofan was gazing straight ahead as they walked, a kind of playfulness in her refusal to meet Wen Qing’s eyes. “I have made you no invitation as yet.”
“You would hardly have personally corrected me if you thought my work beneath your notice. And your companions seemed sufficiently engaged by it.”
“That particular cohort is very easily stirred up,” Li Xiaofan countered. “But yes, I believe the two of us have considerable potential together.”
“The two of us?” Wen Qing stopped. “Are you imagining a more extensive collaboration than mere supervision?”
Li Xiaofan paused, slightly ahead of her, and turned back to lock eyes with her again. “Yes,” she said simply. “I would like to work with you.”
She retraced her steps, drawing closer to Wen Qing. “I have assembled a collection of intellectually curious minds together to create an environment that, I think, facilitates innovation. Within it, certain individuals are more closely bonded, more suited to one another. Just imagine the way in which each zang is paired to its own fu, and they exist in concert with the other pairings by way of the Wuxing.”
“I hardly think that metaphor applies here.”
Li Xiaofan cocked an eyebrow inquisitively. It truly was astonishing how malleable her affect was, how much it had shifted from their first meeting.
Wen Qing explained, stumblingly, “A zang can hardly abandon its paired fu for another on a whim.”
The other woman chuckled, ducking her head down. “Is that your objection? Metaphors are flexible, Wen-guniang. You have been more broadly thinking through certain means of coexistence through this framework, yes? Surely we can agree that the complexities of human choice and connection transcend the mere workings of our bodies.”
“Perhaps.”
“Evading again,” said Li Xiaofan. She had such a subtle array of different amusements at her disposal, thought Wen Qing.
“Nonetheless I will accept your offer,” Wen Qing said.
“The offer I still haven’t formally issued?” Li Xiaofan smiled, close-mouthed and ladylike, but there was a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “I should warn you though, Wen-guniang – I won’t be able to favour you extensively or openly at first. You should know that many of these women… well, they are unaware of your origins. And they dislike seeing an upstart rise so quickly.”
“I understand.”
“Don’t worry, of course – your secret will be quite safe with me, Wen-guiniang. Or should I say -?”
“Lai.”
“Lai-guniang,” Li Xiaofan continued evenly. “That said, this cohort is not the nest of vipers you are presumably imagining.” She turned her head to the side, her eyes knowingly appraising Wen Qing. “There are many women here who share your interests, and could be of much help to you in navigating the customs here. I could point you towards them later.”
“You are most kind, Nie-furen.”
It was only after the niceties had left her mouth that Wen Qing realized that she had sealed their agreement, its parameters still uncertain. Li Xiaofan had drawn close, suddenly, and all the heat in the courtyard seemed to emanate from the space between their bodies.
“I am pleased you came, Lai-guniang. We will have much to discuss.”
