Fatherly Asura

“It has a certain girth,” noted Zhu.

Fu remained still under the inspection. “I did not think you were interested in such things.”

“I’ve one of my own, recall. To compare is only natural,” he continued, and Tanshuai fluttered to land upon the tip. “The size is not intrusive?”

Adding his own hand to the stroke, Fu pondered this. “I cannot complain. Though if it were to grow it may be problematic.”

As they were high upon the balconies of the Clouded Court headquarters the conversation did not extend further, and both men noticed the queer looks that a few of their fellow disciples delivered in passing.

Zhu unhanded the [Old One’s Whisker], and rubbed his fingertips together. “They’re a peculiar breed of treasure. I’m immediately jealous that you have acquired three, and I remain here with one. You’ll tell me how you came to possess another over dinner.”

Hushi moved at this, and the suggestion seemed to shrug a certain weariness from his limbs.

“Soon,” nodded Fu. “But I would not be caught so unseemly. Our Elder would surely introduce more danger than my trials should she come across me as I am.” He had little need to gesture to the multitude of grime upon him, nor did Zhu’s wrinkled nose suggest he had not noticed.

“Yes. You’re disgusting,” acknowledged Zhu. “I’d rather you not enter the quarters, for a return would place you back in duty and spoil the free meal I’m due to receive. An hour for bathing, then we’ll meet here once more. Yes?”

In the coming span of minutes Fu fled across the rooftops, his appearance far too grim to walk amidst the citizenry of the Four Corners Prefecture. The indulgences of [Core Formation] were however, lost on him, and something he scarcely pondered until he descended into the entrance of the closest bathhouse.

The clerk there recoiled in shock at his sudden appearance, which cascaded through the various beauties that stood by in waiting at his counter’s side. “Ma-master cultivator,” he choked, paling. “This humble attendant welcomes you to our modest establishment.”

Fu saw little modest about the grand entrance, nor the iconography of suns carved into the surrounding woodwork. But he spoke undeterred. “Greetings,” he returned. “I require a bath, and if the services are offered, my robes laundered.”

“I beg forgiveness, master cultivator,” said the clerk. “But our bathhouse is currently-”

A novel thought drew a single middle-grade spirit stone into Fu’s hand.

“Undergoing cleaning. A thousand apologies for the inconvenience, all that we have remaining is the private suite,” he finished.

“I am sure it is suitable.”

With a prim bow, two of the women led Fu down a screened hallway. Further suns were inscribed upon the parchment, only darkened by the silhouettes that moved beyond them. Though the volume steadily decreased until he found himself in an emptied hall, with the door drawn closed behind him.

The women gestured respectfully, and maintained horizontal bows while they awaited his instruction.

“Gratitude. I am well versed in bathing,” he said simply, before recalling what he had asked. “Ah. It would be improper for refined women such as yourselves to be here while I undress. I will leave the robes outside.”

He could not fathom the incredulous looks upon the women’s faces. “Master cultivator,” one spoke. “We are included in the private suite. Please make use of us. For one of your esteem there are few tasks we would not perform.”

Wealth indeed brings opportunity.

Fu arched a brow, and Hushi’s arms wriggled in anticipation.

🀨

Ten stacks of newly purchased, dull clothing vanished into Fu’s spatial ring, though he held the wooden advertising chit one of his attendants had handed him free of its clutches for a moment longer. “Sanniang’s,” he mused, reading the eatery’s name. “This will save us time in locating a restaurant, no, Hushi?”

These attendants are indeed resourceful.

The octopus had melted into the steaming waters, and would be impossible to draw any answer from. So Fu stowed the chit in turn, and met his partner’s height.

A stone pool of revitalising Qi held them afloat, and it was stylised as some manner of outdoor spring. Fronds of various ferns hung above the water, sopping in droplets caught there, and casting an unnecessary shade atop the smooth rockery beneath them.

The [Life Qi] cradled his every ache, and neither soul knew just how long they had languished there until the robes were returned. A knock at the screen was met with a brief exchange, which put his Sect uniform within the room before closing once more.

“Time then,” he said to Hushi. “Is it not?”

Bubbles replied before Fu conjured his [Ink].