Crown of the Starry Sky: Book 11 of Painting the Mists

by Patrick Laplante

  Mi Fei’s scowl deepened. “It’s just typical. If he didn’t know me, none of this would have happened. He has no damn right to be defensive about me.”

  “I think you might be reading too much into the situation,” Xiao Bai said. She shifted uncomfortably, which was odd for the usually arrogant demon.

  “Really? This, from you?” Mi Fei asked. “I thought you of all people would agree with me.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t put up with crap from anyone, but I have a source of information.”

  “Huxian,” Mi Fei said. “Or Lord Eight Directions as he likes to call himself.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, I don’t know much about these problems you keep having,” Xiao Bai continued. “This whole thing about discriminating against women? That’s a very human issue. With demons, it’s the other way around. Pretty much all the powerful demons are girls.”

  “Wait, what?” Mi Fei asked.

  “Yeah,” Xiao Bai said. “Think about it. All the powerful phoenixes. Most of the dragons.”

  “I thought most of the powerful dragon demons were male,” Mi Fei said.

  “Naw, it’s mostly an old girl’s club,” Xiao Bai said. “They just don’t think it’s necessary to clarify. It’s… assumed among demons, which means all the boys are always trying to prove themselves, and the girls are trying to stop them from getting themselves killed. Even unreasonably. I can only think of three powerful male dragons out of about twenty. There’s the Candle Dragon, and the Azure Dragon, and maybe the Dark Nether Dragon. But the others? All women. I mean, look at the Clockwork Ancestor, the Golden Dragon Clan’s ancestor. She’s female.”

  “You only mentioned dragons and phoenixes,” Mi Fei said.

  “Monkey demons—ninety percent female at the Demon Emperor level,” Xiao Bai said. “Same with the turtles. Somehow, tigers are pretty much all male. Snakes—female. Bull demons—female despite the name. I think they changed their species name because people were calling them angry cows all the time and it got insulting. Rabbit clans are pretty much all matriarchal.”

  “I… don’t know what to say,” Mi Fei said. “How did that come about?”

  “Math,” Xiao Bai said. “Demon blood is inherited mostly through the female side of things. They furnish most of the… material, let’s call it. So it’s just a matter of picking the right males, and they have a really good chance of making powerful offspring. With males, though, they could work themselves to death, and out of a thousand progeny with normal females, maybe one would be moderately powerful. Well, let that happen over the course of a few million years, and the females get a big numerical advantage. Then add that to the fact that everyone cares about their mother more than their father, and that women have all the power in any relationship…” She shrugged. “Matriarchies everywhere. It’s really men who get picked on.”

  “Huh,” Mi Fei said. It cheered her up in some strange way. But then her scowl returned. “It’s not that way with humans at all. We don’t have special demon bloodlines or anything.”

  “Yeah, and god bloodlines are weird,” Xiao Bai said.

  Mi Fei sighed. “I just want to be respected. I’m my own person, and I don’t want everyone thinking I’m some pawn to marry off.” It was only then that she looked around and took in her surroundings.

  She and Xiao Bai were walking on a small street off the main road. Small storefronts like clothing shops, medicinal shops, restaurants, and even things like hairdressers, day spas, and cigar shops took up the first two floors of every tall building. You couldn’t see gender disparity there. Jobs were mostly split by personal preference, and there were imbalances, to be sure. But that was non-lethal work. Fighting wasn’t required for them.

  They passed a restaurant she was familiar with. Her stomach grumbled as she remembered she hadn’t eaten. She’d been so excited, she’d skipped breakfast. She ignored the wonderful smells, however. It wasn’t a good idea to eat when you were sad or angry—that would lead to overeating. She was also afraid she might just throw anything served at her. No. It was best to calm down first.

  “I should have known better than to be hopeful,” Mi Fei muttered. “That Daoist Clear Sky has always been strange around me. He’s always polite, but he watches his words. It’s like he’s talking through a filter.”

  “You are in a relationship with his friend,” Xiao Bai said. “So that much is normal.”

  “Yes, to a degree,” she admitted. “But something’s up with him. He’s hiding something. I can sense it. Call it women’s intuition.”

  “Let’s go left here,” Xiao Bai said.

  Mi Fei didn’t argue with her, and to her surprise, they entered an alley between buildings. There weren’t many pedestrians here. Just dumpsters and unfortunate accidents from the night before that hadn’t yet been cleared.

  “Why did we come here again?” Mi Fei asked.

  “Mostly so they don’t teleport directly into someone,” Xiao Bai said. “That could get nasty.”

  “Who—” She cut herself off as she felt a disturbance in space-time. There was a snapping sound, and Mi Fei summoned a viscous cloud of Grandmist as a shield. Whoever it was, they’d regret sneaking up on her. She’d tear off their head and—

  “Oh.” She let the Grandmist fall to the floor, and it dispersed back into neutral heaven-and-earth energy. “It’s you.” Tearing off heads might still be appropriate.

  Cha Ming and Huxian had appeared from a tear in space, and though Huxian seemed unsurprised by her reaction, Cha Ming stumbled back. “Mi Fei,” Cha Ming said with a bow. “Lady White.”

  “Daoist Clear Sky,” Mi Fei said evenly. She nodded to Huxian. “Lord Eight Directions. I think we exchanged all the words we needed to exchange.”

  “Yet I feel I treated you unfairly and would ask you to give me the chance to explain myself and apologize,” Cha Ming said.

  Mi Fei frowned. She hadn’t expected that. She sniffed and turned back toward Xiao Bai, only to find the rabbit and her friend the fox had already gone.

  “Collusion,” she muttered. “With my own demon companion, no less.”

  “It would have been difficult to find you quickly otherwise,” Cha Ming admitted. He looked around them and took in the shady alley decor. “Maybe we could talk in a more comfortable place.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like an invitation to brunch,” Mi Fei said. “At which it is customary for the offending party to pay.”

  “I suppose it does,” Cha Ming said. “Though I’d like to make it clear that it’s purely an apologetic gesture. I’m implying nothing else.”

  “We wouldn’t want Brother Longshen to get jealous, now would we?” Mi Fei said sarcastically.

  “Exactly,” Cha Ming said.

  Clueless man. And people wonder why we complain.

  “Well, then, I know just the place,” Mi Fei said. She’d heard about a famous restaurant from a friend. It was good, and very expensive, even by her standards. She would never go there on her own dime. But if someone else was paying, and she wanted revenge…

  “Please lead the way,” Cha Ming said, gesturing back to the busy street.

  We’ll see how polite you can stay after I order a few dishes.

  Contrary to what she’d expected, Cha Ming didn’t bat an eye at the price. Apparently, he had experience getting gouged in these settings. Getting under his skin was going to be harder than Mi Fei thought. She looked around the half-filled room where people were eating foods soaked in sweet syrups and fruits. Very strange food.

  “You don’t talk much,” Mi Fei said. “It’s usually customary for the man to start a conversation when he takes a lady out for a meal.”

  “And here I thought you didn’t want any special treatment,” Cha Ming said. “This is an apology, not a date.” He took a sip of the strong coffee that affected even demigods. Its strong composition had something to do with Mendin constitutions. “I’m happy to see that the Mendin people know how to make proper coffee. I used to have a disci
ple, you know. He was an alchemist, and he was the first on the plane to make coffee that affected body refiners.”

  “I always see you drinking wine or tea,” Mi Fei said. “I didn’t know you liked coffee.”

  “It’s an old vice of mine, and I can’t help but embrace it when stressed,” Cha Ming said. He gestured to her cup. “Please.”

  Mi Fei blushed slightly. “I have no idea how to drink this style of tea.” It was a blackish tea that was abnormally bitter. There were condiments to the side. She assumed she had to use them, but which ones?

  “If the Mendin are like a certain culture I have in mind—and judging from the food here, they are—the tea is basically undrinkable plain,” Cha Ming said. “Unlike our culture’s own proper tea. At the very least, you’ll need to add sugar or honey. Others will add lemon, milk, or cream, but not lemon and dairy at the same time. That could go wrong.”

  Mi Fei frowned as she added two cubes of sugar, then added a bit of milk. She took a sip. “It’s not bad this way. But not great either.”

  “I’m partial to sugar only, but it’s still lacking,” Cha Ming agreed.

  “You seem to know much about Mendin culture,” Mi Fei said. “Are you from the Mendin subcontinent? You certainly share features with them.”

  “Not at all,” Cha Ming said. “I just happen to have spent much time in a similar setting on another mortal plane.”

  “You’ve been to more than one?” Mi Fei asked. “You are a man of many surprises, Daoist Clear Sky.”

  “I’m sure you know my name, and I’d be more comfortable if you called me by it,” Cha Ming said. “After all, I call you by your personal name.”

  “A clan name is hardly a personal name,” Mi Fei said. “It’s more like a Dao name, in a sense.” Seeing the irritation in his eyes, she smiled lightly. “Very well, Cha Ming.”

  “Thank you, Mi Fei,” Cha Ming said.

  A waiter interrupted their conversation. He placed a large stack of things called “pancakes” and large plate of assorted meats in front of her. In front of Cha Ming, he placed oatmeal with fruit.

  Cha Ming held out a hand. “Please.”

  Mi Fei poked a sausage with a fork and bit off a large piece and chewed loudly. “I hear you don’t eat meat.”

  “I admit, it makes me uncomfortable,” Cha Ming said. “But please don’t mind me.”

  “Why?” Mi Fei asked. Maximum discomfort. That was key.

  “I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Cha Ming said.

  “You’re the one who invited me here to apologize,” she said. “Apologies are meant to be miserable.”

  Cha Ming took in a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t like causing more suffering than I have to. If you must know, it pains me to think of what that sausage you’re eating went through.”

  “Surely you’ve killed people,” Mi Fei said. “Many, many people.”

  “I kill because I have to,” Cha Ming said. “And I regret every death. And I’m responsible for the deaths of millions.” He cleared his throat. “As for food, it’s usually a choice for cultivators, and so I make my choice gladly.”

  That kind of backfired, Mi Fei thought. She guiltily put down her sausage and switched to pancakes and tea. She looked down at the stack and the row of condiments beside it.

  Seeing her confusion, Cha Ming reached over and poured strawberry syrup over the small mountain. “Do you like sweet things?”

  “Very much so,” Mi Fei said. He proceeded to pour chocolate syrup and a thick golden syrup she’d never seen before. She dipped her finger into it. “What’s this?”

  “Maple, I think,” Cha Ming said. “Or something like it. It’s not a thing you’d normally see in local restaurants.” Indeed, the concept of ordering your own plate of food baffled Mi Fei. Shouldn’t people order many small dishes and eat from the center? Shouldn’t a meal have rice or porridge? Where was the variety?

  “So,” Mi Fei said, “let’s hear it.”

  “Right,” Cha Ming said. “I apologize for treating you the way I did. I meant you no disrespect.”

  “Yet you did disrespect me,” Mi Fei said. “I’ve even worked with some of the others. It was embarrassing.”

  “And I’m very sorry for that,” Cha Ming said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly in the heat of the moment. I’d just like to clear something up. Despite what you may think, and despite what I said, this has nothing to do with Wei Longshen.”

  “Oh?” Mi Fei said. “How unfortunate. I’d come prepared with a speech to tell you I wasn’t his property. Then what is it? Is it me you have a problem with? Do you find yourself flustered with attraction? I know we trade barbs occasionally, but this is just childish.” Not that she wanted to imply anything, but if she was going to punish him, she might as twist the dagger.

  “I confess, you’re a beautiful and attractive woman,” Cha Ming said.

  Hah!

  “But that’s not the reason. It’s a very personal reason.”

  “Well, if you’re going to use such a reason to apologize, you need to give me at least some of the details,” Mi Fei said.

  Cha Ming sighed. “That’s fair. But please, I’d rather you keep this between us. I also need some time to organize my thoughts. Please eat a little in the meantime.” He began to eat his porridge in a brooding silence.

  Fine, then, Mi Fei thought. Brood all you like. But I’ll get a proper explanation one way or another. It was the only way to get people to regret their actions.

  Seeing that she wouldn’t have active company anytime soon, she attacked her stack of pancakes. There was a white fluffy topping on it. She awkwardly cut a piece away with the unfamiliar fork and knife and shoved it in her mouth. It melted.

  I could get used to eating food like this, she thought. Too bad it’s so damn expensive. Mendin was located opposite the Crimson Lotus Empire, and it occupied approximately a quarter of the land outside the Inky Sea. Slovana lands separated them to the northeast, and the Wild Lands to the southeast.

  She ate through most of the stack surprisingly fast, and before long, there were only hints of syrup and cream on her plate. “You have quite the appetite for a young lady who doesn’t body cultivate,” Cha Ming said.

  “My cultivation method is special,” Mi Fei said. “I often find myself deficient in energy.” It was kind of true. Though she technically didn’t need to eat, her Grandmist cultivation could absorb almost anything. In theory, she could eat as much as she wanted.

  “Right…” Cha Ming said. “My apologies for taking so long to compose myself. It’s somewhat painful to remember.”

  “It’s sounding like you’re about to describe a bad breakup,” Mi Fei said.

  “It’s not far removed,” Cha Ming said. “Over a century ago, I was in love with a girl. She looked about your age, and the similarity between the both of you is striking.”

  “What happened?” Mi Fei asked, leaning in slightly. It wasn’t every day a man told you juicy secrets like this.

  “She died,” Cha Mi said softly.

  Mi Fei, who was about to take another sip of tea, froze. His words hit her like a load of concrete blocks. “Ah.” She placed her cup down. “I’m sorry.” This was not going as planned.

  “It’s that sadness in my heart that prompted my initial reaction,” Cha Ming said. “It wasn’t fair to you, so I apologize. I would like to have you on the mission. If you’re still willing. I was wrong.”

  Mi Fei nodded. “All right. I can buy that. But you should know that I could probably beat you in a fight.” If he was going to back down, he should know her worth.

  “Killjoy already informed me,” Cha Ming said dryly. “As has my immediate superior. This is fortunate. I’ve been told this will be a dangerous mission, so the less people like Crying Toad, who needs others protecting him, the better.”

  “You’re taking this better than I thought,” Mi Fei said. In her experience, most geniuses bristled when she mentioned her strength.

  Cha Ming shrug
ged. Then he hesitated. “I would like to show you something.” He held out his hand, and a jade object appeared. It was thin and small, like a tablet or communication jade. He swiped his hand across it, and two thin sheets appeared. He slid them over to her.

  “Is this a camera?” Mi Fei asked, surprised. Most people never bothered with cameras, and this one seemed a really high-quality one. Moreover, there was something familiar about it.

  Two thin sheets had appeared on the device. It was an advanced feature some good models were capable of. She looked to them and frowned. They were pictures of her. In one, she was frustrated and angry. In another, she was laughing and relaxed. One was of her in the alley with Xiao Bai, and the other was of her in this restaurant. When had he taken those pictures?

  “You look much better when you’re happy,” Cha Ming said. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

  She ignored the words as she noticed something else about the camera. “Is that a soul-bound treasure?” She’d never seen one before. She grabbed it, but suddenly remembered her etiquette classes and put the device back on the table. “I heard you’re not supposed to touch another person’s soul-bound treasure. Bad things can happen.” Also, she’d been told it was impossible, but here she was.

  “It’s all right,” Cha Ming said, shaking his head. “Go ahead and take a look.”

  Mi Fei picked it up again. The device was strange. She’d never seen this particular camera before, but she felt a connection to it. She began tapping around on its screen like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then she began flicking through pictures. Many pictures. A lot of them were mid-combat, mostly of Cha Ming or people around him. Did it take pictures of him and his surroundings automatically?

  She asked him, and he laughed. “Yes, the treasure knows when a moment is worthy,” Cha Ming said. “For example, it wasn’t me who decided to take those pictures of you, but the camera.”

  How odd, she thought. She continued flicking through pictures. She paused on a significant battle. A massive half-initiation creature of devouring incarnate was fighting an entire army. Cha Ming was part of that army, and so was Huxian and a few of his friends she hadn’t yet met. People were dying by the thousands. Transcendents were falling like flies. The picture was so lifelike she could feel their emotions, their power, and their desperation.