Chapter 12: No Hidden Mountain

Shen answered Ji's question beside the guest hall's least comfortable chair.

"Never," she said, and tested the seat before lowering herself onto it.

Ji stood opposite her with the jar of warming salve between them.

Luo waited near the window, leaving the answer room to arrive.

There was no flash of hidden light or alteration in Shen's face.

A servant carried a tray past them and kept walking.

Ji had imagined this conversation often without admitting that she had.

In every version, the old master's first ring concealed something glorious.

A sealed power, a broken vow, a name too important to speak.

Her own disgrace would become proof that somebody magnificent had recognized her.

Instead, Shen had said never and found somewhere to sit.

Ji turned the little salve jar inside her palms.

"Was there an injury?" she asked.

Shen lifted the hand missing its smallest finger.

"This happened after I stopped expecting a second," she replied.

"I was cutting frozen squash."

Ji looked at Luo, who had become very interested in the window latch.

She could still rescue the belief if she chose a better question.

The stories always let a persistent disciple discover the concealed truth eventually.

"Did somebody forbid you from advancing?" she asked.

"My wrists have been remarkably firm on the subject," Shen said.

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