Eldest Senior Brother

What followed was nothing worth telling. Deputy Envoy Yao led them all to a stream valley with deep pools behind Suspended Fate Manor and had them wash the dust from themselves there, after which they were each given a set of identical dark gray clothes. The clothes resembled those worn by the few unusual boys and girls An Jing had seen earlier, though these were somewhat plainer. Next came the recording of names. "An Jing, Gufeng County, Xuanque Prefecture, Hanbei Circuit, bone age eleven..." "Xia Li, Hanhai Prefecture, Hanhai Circuit, bone age twelve..." "Tang Yuanting, Laifeng City, Liuguang Prefecture, Hanbei Circuit, bone age nine..." An Jing stood at the very front with lowered eyes, silently committing every name called and every entry recorded to memory, analyzing where each of them had come from. Most of those Suspended Fate Manor had gathered were children and youths who had suffered the Frost Calamity in the land north of Hanhai. The most remote of them was a girl named Bai Qinghan, from Hannan Circuit, one of the three circuits of Hanhai. What she had likely survived was not the Frost Calamity but the Hanhai Demon Calamity of nearly ten years ago; she had been born during that calamity and had struggled on until now. When the roll was finished, the count came to two hundred forty-eight. The five not entered in the register were the five black-robed boys and girls An Jing had noticed at the very beginning; they had already been taken away. By the time the roster was settled, dusk was near, and it was time to eat. The supper Suspended Fate Manor provided was plain: simple millet and a strange bean mash heavily mixed with medicinal flavors, each in a large bowl, along with three flatbreads rubbed with oil and salt. Simple, yet everyone ate with relish. Once the steward announced that they might begin, no sound remained in the hall except eating. After all, they had endured more than a year of disaster, chewing bark and eating grass roots the whole way, and then had been jolted along for more than ten days to reach the manor. How could they possibly turn their noses up at such plentiful food? Not to mention that each of them also received a jar of meatball soup: inside the brown earthenware jar, three white meatballs bobbed up and down in broth dotted with beads of floating oil, looking extraordinarily appetizing. An Jing scooped one up with his spoon and took a bite; the long-missed taste of meat filled his mouth—springy, fresh and salty—and it was impossible to stop eating. Even An Jing had no room in his head for anything else while he ate. Only after he had finished and been led by a menial to his quarters did it occur to him— —This Suspended Fate Manor is quite skilled at seizing hold of people's hearts. Standing before his bamboo bed, An Jing turned his head back thoughtfully and looked at the manor's towers and pavilions under the moonlight. For the great majority of these purchased children, they had just been rescued from a disaster zone, cured of stubborn ailments, and hauled far from their homeland over a jolting road, their hearts full of unease. And then they had arrived in a hidden manor cut off from the world, at the very moment when they were most fragile, most sensitive, most in need of something to lean on. Suspended Fate Manor bathed them, gave them new clothes, washed away the fatigue, panic, and fear of the past, and then used identical garments to build a shared state of mind. Finally, through the calling of the roll, it created a sense of being acknowledged, and with generous portions of food and a bit of meat, it deepened everyone's gratitude toward the manor. At this point An Jing could not help but sigh inwardly: "I'm the one with Innate Wisdom and a suspicious nature—and yet even I don't think badly of Suspended Fate Manor. I think rather well of it." "After all, they really did spend money to cure us and use grain to buy people, and to this day no one has persecuted or abused us boys and girls, and there's nothing to find fault with in food, drink, or clothing... So that's how it is." At that moment, something came clear to An Jing. As a child, he had never much cared for the many "Deathsworn" and "hidden agents" in those popular historical romances; he had simply never understood where such people got their loyalty from, or how someone lurking in the shadows could remain so utterly devoted to his master. But now he was beginning to understand—if Suspended Fate Manor kept raising these boys and girls this way, then once they came of age, every one of them would be absolutely loyal to the manor unto death. Lurking in the shadows? What of it—even if Suspended Fate Manor really were some evil sect, that loyalty would not be shaken. They would regard all the world's wariness, disgust, and suspicion of Suspended Fate Manor as slander, and from the bottom of their hearts they would accept that Suspended Fate Manor was unquestionably in the right. The greater the manor's ill reputation abroad, the more furious it would make these people who owed the manor their salvation and had fully accepted their identity as its disciples—purifying and crystallizing them, until they became the manor's true foundation! And that was only if the manor was an evil sect. If Suspended Fate Manor were a great and famous orthodox sect, it would be even easier to make people willing to die for it, to sacrifice themselves for the greater cause! "Hm..." Having eaten their food, An Jing could hardly say much against them. Recalling the taste of meat in that jar of soup, he smacked his lips and murmured to himself, "Fine. One portion of meat, one portion of work." Because of his temperament, because of his Innate Wisdom, An Jing knew that in this life he would most likely find it very hard to be absolutely loyal to anyone. But if the pay and treatment were good enough... He could be a loyal minister too! Suspended Fate Manor separated the children by sex, and each was given a small room of his or her own. It was a dwelling open at both front and back, almost like a long communal sleeping platform, except that bamboo walls divided everyone from one another. The rooms were tiny, with space for only a bed and a little room to stretch one's feet. Yet this cramped environment was what made these disaster-stricken children feel safest—after so long with heaven and earth for mat and blanket, people would rather huddle in their own warm little space than face wind and rain. An Jing could not help thinking of capsule hotels. Though he had no idea at all what a capsule hotel was, images would surface in his mind and give him a deep understanding of those unfamiliar concepts. This was the Innate Wisdom he had had since childhood. An Jing's Innate Wisdom, along with his mature way of thinking, was what he relied on to preserve himself through so many dangers. That being so, sleep first. Already extremely sleepy, An Jing knew that rather than analyze Suspended Fate Manor's methods for cultivating loyal disciples now, it was better to sleep more and recover his spirits. He lay down on the bed, pulled up the blanket, and sank into deep sleep. For the next stretch of time, Suspended Fate Manor did nothing at all, letting the two hundred-odd survivors of the calamity settle into a routine, restore their stomachs and bodies, and adapt to the water and soil of the mountain forest. They claimed to be an ancient hidden lineage. Because their living conditions were so harsh and one had to dwell long in the deep mountains and old forests, it was very difficult for them to recruit normal disciples; to preserve their transmission, they went about buying up orphans and refugees who could endure such a life. That explanation was in fact rather thin and feeble. Had it been given in the refugee camp or when they first arrived at the manor, anyone who believed it would have to be somewhat lacking in brains. But Suspended Fate Manor had already seen to everyone's food, drink, and daily life, had let all these boys and girls sleep easy, had provided food and meat and new clothes, and had neither sold them as servants nor abused or flogged them. With the facts as proof, whatever the manor said, these children would believe. In An Jing's eyes, Suspended Fate Manor was like an enormous closed training camp. Every morning the manor gathered all the children, and the Riders who led the collection teams served as instructors, teaching a simple set of body-tempering martial techniques. In the afternoons they taught the children to read and write, after which physicians examined everyone's health. These techniques were far inferior to the martial arts handed down in An Jing's own family, but they genuinely built up the body. An Jing had in fact only studied the basic volume of his family's martial classic, so there was no harm in learning more. For reading and writing they used an ancient scripture of Heaven's Mandate called the Scripture of Imperial Heaven—no mind-clouding text, but one chiefly expounding reverence for the will of Imperial Heaven and the honoring of Heaven through sacrifice, which circulated throughout Great Chen. There was a meal after martial practice and another after the evening reading. An Jing believed it was some kind of medicinal meal; he could feel his body swiftly mending under the combination of medicinal meals and ample sleep, growing healthy, and his thin frame beginning to fill out. This went on for half a month, and everyone's spirit was utterly changed from when they had first entered the manor. Apart from An Jing, every child had fully accepted their identity as a disciple of Suspended Fate Manor. Even someone as cautious as An Jing had begun to think the place really was not bad. —Eating and sleeping every day, reading and practicing martial arts. What a life of privilege! For most of the others, life here was far better than it had been at home before the Frost Calamity, and they began to regard Suspended Fate Manor entirely as their true "home." At the same time, An Jing gradually grew familiar with the other boys and girls. First, An Jing both practiced martial arts and could read, and he was the one with the best aptitude among them. Now and then the lecturers and instructors would call him up to demonstrate a movement for the others or recite a passage of scripture, after which he would be praised and rewarded. Second, it was also because An Jing truly cut a striking figure. When they first arrived at the manor, everyone was basically skin and bones, so thin that no one's looks or bearing could be made out. Yet even then, An Jing's presence was enough to keep the crowd's misgivings in check, and only a small number harbored discontent. As everyone's health gradually recovered, An Jing also regained his original appearance. Nature had gathered its spirit in him, and his bearing was one of rare grace—that was how he had always looked; and after a year of wandering, having killed many wicked men with his own hands, An Jing now carried a hint of danger even when he smiled, like a clouded leopard in the mountain forest—beautiful and bloodthirsty. Even Manor Master Yao kept marveling that with An Jing standing there, not a word needed to be spoken; anyone at all would regard him with a measure of respect. Toward the arrangements of Suspended Fate Manor, An Jing showed boundless gratitude on the surface while coldly analyzing them in his heart. He knew perfectly well that this was a cheap means of drawing him in—letting him, the best performer and not bad-looking either, instinctively style himself as one of Suspended Fate Manor's own, its "Eldest Senior Brother," so that he would feel a powerful sense of belonging. It would also draw in the other children and shape a collective identity. At the same time, it could stir the desire to challenge and to win in the other children who were "not content." An Jing himself did not take pride in the title, but other boys and girls always gathered around him because of it. Whether it was because of the title of "Eldest Senior Brother" or because of his looks, though... An Jing himself was not sure. In any case, the children in his dormitory now all acted with him at the center, and before he knew it he really had become something like a big brother to them. Whether they were assembling to go to the dining hall or heading to the drill ground for practice, it was he who organized and led them. Guiding his juniors in their studies like a true Eldest Senior Brother—it would be very easy to relax too much living such a life. But all of this was only the prelude. Suspended Fate Manor was, in the end, a sect that passed down the Martial Path; it could not really let people eat and drink for nothing and live like young masters. Soon, the bitterly hard formal training arrived.