⌠đ°đđĽđđ¨đŚđ, đ°đĄđđ đđđ§ đ˘ đ đđ đđ¨đŤ đ˛đ¨đŽ? || đąđŽđłđŹđ§đ˛
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
coffeeshop superpower/villains & heroes trope but make it wuxia au
part one. of welcome, what can I get for you?
synopsis: [reader] works at a rundown inn tucked away in the mountains of huashan, serving chinese cuisine and doing every single shift herself, seeing as the entire staff abandoned their posts to either chase their dreams of becoming "swordmasters" or died in a clash of duels. the workload is manageable enough because on a regular day she's lucky if she sees one or two customers walk through the door. it's peaceful and quiet, exactly how she likes it. though that peace, unfortunately, does not last, because somehow, through what cosmic joke or divine punishment [reader] has yet to determine, great masters, sect leaders, every sword-swinging glory-hungry aspirant with dreams of being "the best in the world," and even the leader of "maninbang" decided that her humble little inn is a marvelous place to eat at.
đđşđđđđđ!đđžđđđđ đđż đđđž đđđđđ đđđş đđžđźđ đ đżđžđđşđ
đž!đđžđşđ˝đžđ
but mainly: chung myung x reader
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
it is a normal day today.
the sunlight finds its way through the jade curtains in thin, pale slivers, not enough to flood the room whole, but just enough to locate [reader].
it grazes the curve of her cheek, the bridge of her nose, the loose dark strands of hair fanned across the pillow like something spilled and left to dry. the room smells of sandalwood and something faintly sweet underneath it, a curl of incense smoke rising from the stick burned down to its last breath on the wooden stand by the window.
the ember glowed softly in red.
[reader]'s room itself was small as she intended it to be.
it had a sleeping mat thick enough to be properly called a bed, a low table with a chipped teacup sitting next to a half read book left facing down, a paper lantern unlit above the door. a wooden rack beside the entrance, and on it, a sword in its sheath, plain and unadorned.
her room wasn't much but it was hers nonetheless.
"mm-hmm..." she stirred in her sleep.
she rolled onto her left side and reached instinctively for the blanket, which had at some point during the night didn't want to be a blanket anymore and flung itself to the floor in protest.
her fingers found only the cool wood of the floorboards. a string of drool traced the corner of her mouth.
then something crashed outside.
"hm?" her eyelids cracked open. she blinked at the ceiling for a moment, processing.
it is a normal day for [reader].
until, of course, it isn't.
but that was the thing about living in the foothills of huashan, wasn't it? the mountain was a magnet for a very specific type of person, and none of them were the relaxing kind.
swordsmen chasing glory, disciples chasing rank, wandering cultivators chasing something they couldn't name and probably wouldn't recognize if they found it. they came from all corners of the jianghu and they passed through the foothills loudly and unpredictably.
they are individuals who wanted a boisterous life.
alas... [reader] wanted the opposite!
the jianghu was a sea that swallowed people whole and she had simply walked to the shore, found a pleasant rock to sit on, and watched the waves from a safe distance.
the foothills were technically still jianghu. adjacent, yes, but the inn she works at was far enough from the main mountain routes that stumbling across it required either very specific knowledge or a very compelling wrong turn.
she could only hope, as she did every morning, not to get swept into the waves today.
she entangled herself further in the sheets and gave herself another few minutes. the mattress held the warmth of the night still, and her fingers curled into it. outside, the birds were chirping. sharp, bright morning notes cutting through the mist over the mountain. fine. finee. she was awake. (though she didn't get up)
[reader] was enjoying additional minutes on her soft mattress when a loud sound breaks out yet again.
her hair fell in a heavy curtain over her shoulders. the silk sheets slid down in one clean motion. she blinked at the window, pushed herself to her feet with ease and crossed the room to part the curtains.
outside, two raccoons were engaged in what could only be described as a civil war.
they were clawing at each other with resentment. they were creatures who had a long and complicated history (kidding) but seriously, leaves were going flying, and something knocked completely over with a crash.
"hey!" [reader]'s voice boomed out. "you little knockoff pandas. i told you two not to cause a ruckus anymore!"
the raccoons froze and stared up at her.
moments after, they shrieked and bolted, their fat little bodies disappearing into the undergrowth with their tails tucked in absolute shame.
[reader] watched them go and began to feel guilty. did i scare them too much? ...sorry.
she let out a yawn wide enough to crack her jaw, stretched both arms above her head and felt her spine correct itself with deeply satisfying pops. she ran a hand down her face and turned to the incense clock on the table.
the smoke rose in a clean, thin line, marking the hour the way her grandmother had taught her. she counted.
the washbasin waited in the corner, filled the night before as she always did. warm water with a handful of plum blossom petals left to steep overnight. by morning the water had taken on a faint blush, barely pink, and the scent was something halfway between clean and soft and very faintly floral.
she lowered herself into it slowly, letting the warmth climb her shoulders. the petals drifted in lazy circles. the incense on the other stand, was freshly lit, and the curled smoke went toward the low rafters in a slow, patient spiral.
she washed herself throughly before getting dressed.
her guzhuang was the same as every day. she had several versions of the same outfit (this was a practical decision and not a lack of imagination, thank you very much) a loose robe in grayish purple, cross collared and belted at the waist with a coarse brown sash over a white inner layer. flat cloth shoes, worn soft at the heel from use, and with nothing embroidered in.
it was the outfit of an errand girl whose job description, if written with any honesty, would read: chef, brewer, cleaner, plumber, server, and innkeeper.
she held six roles and one wage, but she had zero complaints because [reader] had long made her peace with it.
she dragged the low stool in front of her copper mirror and sat down and took up the brush.
her hair was long enough to brush her waist, and still carried the faint ghost of plum blossom water. she drew the brush through it slowly, starting at the ends and working upward, and by the time she'd reached the roots her hands had already started braiding without her permission.
she had practically done this every single day without fail for the last few years.
she examined the result in the mirror then hummed thoughtfully.
she gathered her essentials and locked the door to her room. sword beside her waist, basket in her hand, and... racoons on her trail?
[reader] broke out in a cold sweat. ahaha...
...you two are not slick.
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
the path from her quarters wound through the foothills in long, unhurried curves, and [reader] walked it with the slowest pace possible.
technically, she had no reason to rush.
she was done with urgency.
pine trees rose on either side of the trail, straight backed and dark against the pale morning sky, their roots gripping stubbornly on earth.
between them, wild undergrowth covered every available surface with cheerful disregard for anyone's landscaping preferences. moss crept over every stone, vines draped themselves over branches without asking, and mountain wildflowers in stubborn yellow burst up wherever there was a gap in the shade.
somewhere to her left, water moved over rock, a thin mountain creek catching light through the canopy in white, bright flickers.
the raccoons trotted behind her in perfect synchrony, their small round bodies navigating the tree roots with ease.
[reader] breathed in and out.
the air was cool and tasted like pine. a bird called somewhere above her in two sharp notes, then silence, then two more, and she tracked it briefly in the canopy without finding it.
the forest thinned and she finally arrived.
even from the edge of the trees she could hear it before she could see it, the layered sound of a city waking up in stages, not all at once.
the clang of someone rolling back a shop gate. voices calling across a courtyard (the smell reached her first actually, fatass) sesame oil already hot in a pan somewhere, charcoal smoke, and the specific sweetness of steamed buns.
man... i'm hungry. her stomach grumbled.
she stepped out of the treeline and into the current.
people spilled across the main thoroughfare in streams that parted and rejoined around carts and stalls and the occasional argument.
[reader] sighed tearfully, there's so many scary people in here. she trudged carefully. many individuals roaming the streets had flashy swords attached to their waist, oozing with aura. oh well. [reader] wanted nothing to do with them. in fact, she wanted nothing to do with anyone!
she skillfully avoids them.
the sky above was a clean, high blue that only appears after a night cold enough to wash out the haze. the sun was still low, throwing long gold shadows between the buildings, lighting the eaves of the shops in warm amber.
it was, objectively, a beautiful morning. [reader] decided she was going to appreciate it.
what lovely weather we have today.
and it really was! even if the start of her morning had been less than ideal, even if two raccoons were currently padding along twenty paces behind her pretending they weren't, this day was going to be fine. (yes really...)
she could feel it. she inhaled the market air with optimism. she squared her shoulders and marched onward with purpose.
but alas, all that glitters is not gold.
she registered the man with the bucket specifically one second before he walked into her. that one second was not enough. a cold, silver smelling water caught her clean across the chest and the anchovies followed in a small, flopping tide of complete and absolute devastation and stained her newly sewn, newly bought, newly washed, newly ironed robe.
she could only be speechless and blink twice.
the man with the bucket then concluded it wasn't his fault.
that much was clear from his posture before he'd even opened his mouth. "keep your eyes on the street!" he jabbed his finger in her direction, and a small crowd had already begun to form.
she should've known that the start of her day was a premonition to negativity. the day had been trying to tell her something and she'd been too optimistic to hear it.
she took a breath. "...i apologise for the inconvenience." she bowed her head.
the situation's not even my fault! she gritted her teeth internally.
"hmph." the man crossed his arms. the small crowd watched. he seemed to want more reaction and was finding the absence of it deeply unsatisfying. "what use are those eyes of yours if you're not going to use them?! don't ever bump into me again!"
"...i will keep that in mind," [reader] added. she smiled despite the hostility, not wanting to anger anyone any further, and wanting to get it along with.
he exhaled sharply through his nose and turned and left with his empty bucket.
the crowd found, without a better conclusion to witness, that they all had somewhere else to be.
i wish for everyone to stub their toe.
[reader] straightened up and sniffed herself.
she smelled like anchovy!
she fixed the basket on her arm and began walking once again.
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
the path to the inn is not a path most people would voluntarily take twice.
the route required: entering a narrow side alley off the east market road, walking until the city noise dropped to a memory, turning left at the crumbling stone wall then right at the second fork, then straight for long enough that most people assumed they'd made a wrong turn somewhere and doubled back. then, if you were still going, you followed the smell if you knew what you were sniffing for, or the sound of wind through plum trees if you didn't. (practically a maze...)
and then, at the end of it, was the inn.
the inn made of wood stood at the end of that overgrown path.
it had no grand signboard, no banners, and no painted lanterns. just a good ol' plank of wood above the door, the characters brushed in plain black by a lazy hand.
on either side of the entrance, plum blossom trees grew without direction. their branches had long since stopped asking for permission and now spread as wide as they liked, blossoms in pale insistent pink against the aged wood and green.
she turned the sign outward.
it was fairly quiet in here, less for the racoons who kept coming back and causing a commotion because she fed them once in the past. despite that, [reader] made certain that the poor animals didn't starve.
the most the racoons did were scatter trash and make a mess outside the inn. sigh.
[reader] sniffed herself (again). she reeked of fish. ugh. she gagged.
the inn settled around her. she set her basket down and went to the back to change, she went to the basin room and scrubbed herself with much determination. she was certain not a single trace of fish remained on her when she finished. thankfully, her hair had escaped the incident entirely.
also, conveniently, she had spare clothes in the inn.
she made haste and went to work.
[reader] swept first the front step then the entry, then the main room in long smooth strokes, followed with the damp mop, even rows across the floorboards, the wood coming up clean and darker in the mop's wake. then the tables. the chairs were straightened. cushions turned and patted flat. every nook and cranny was dusted carefully.
she watered the plants and wiped the windows.
she went to the kitchen and made herself eggs. after a delightful meal, she washed the bowl and lit a stick of cedar incense at the counter and took her position on the stool.
there. [reader] settled her elbow on the counter, her chin in her palm. all set.
outside, a tumbleweed rolled serenely across the empty path.
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
two hours had passed and not a single customer came through the door.
this was, to be entirely fair, the expected outcome. the chen inn occupied a geographic position in the city that could most charitably be described as eccentric.
the route to reach it wasn't on any map, not because anyone had removed it, but because whoever might have drawn such a map had presumably taken one look at the sequence of turns required and concluded that wasn't their problem.
[reader] had stopped thinking about this a long time ago. it was fine. it was, in fact, ideal!
she set up the weiqi board.
it sat on the counter before her. the nineteen line grid a neat web of possibility, black and white stones arranged across it in a pattern.
weiqi was technically a game for two people but [reader] played it alone. both the black and white stones were being played as her.
[reader] had even, sometime after thirty minutes, started narrating a fictional opponent in her head, a vaguely combative presence with a fondness for aggressive upper left gambits, whose motivations she'd invented entirely and was now taking personally.
don't you dare try that, she thought at herself, placing a defensive white stone with mild displeasure.
the black stones considered their options.
her brows were furrowed as she was deep in the problem of the right flank when the bell above the door chimed.
a man stood in the entrance. middle-aged, broad-brimmed straw hat with a traveling coat.
[reader] straightened up and offered a million dollar smile. "hello! welcome to the chen inn. what can i get you?"
the man stepped in and tilted his head back to read the menu board, taking his sweet time. "just a beer," he said finally.
he tossed a few gold coins to which [reader] caught with ease.
"alright, please be comfortable. take a seat anywhere you'd like." she set the tray on the table with both hands and served his drinks.
when he finished the third cup he set it back on the tray and left a few extra coins beside it. "good service." he grumbled.
"thank you for visiting," [reader] bowed as he left.
the bell chimed and he was gone.
she cleared the table and poured herself tea before returning to the weiqi board.
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
a few more hours drifted by and the sun shifted while the inn's light shifted with it, gold coming now from the south window at a lower, warmer angle.
then the bell chimed once again.
this customer was younger. a young woman, [reader] noted, though she moved with the trained posture. a scholar's clothes, well-kept, and had a small traveling pack over one shoulder.
her eyes made a quick pass over the room when she entered. "is the kitchen still open?" she inquired.
"it is," [reader] replied.
the young woman's shoulders dropped half a measure in visible, private gratitude. she chose the table nearest the window and sat, setting her pack carefully on the bench beside her. she looked at the menu board for a long time.
"the braised pork," she settled. "and rice, and is the broth made fresh?"
"just this morning," [reader] said.
"then the broth as well, please."
[reader] nodded with a smile. "alright, please be comfortable."
she went to the kitchen. the inn briefly filled with the sound of a fire coaxed back up and a ladle meeting the bottom of a pot.
[reader] plated the pork over rice, the sauce reduced dark and glossy. ladled broth into a deep bowl. she folded a cloth beside the chopsticks and brought it to the table.
she picked up her chopsticks and expressed gratitude.
[reader] refilled her tea again without being asked.
when the costumer finished, she paid without bargaining and bowed once at the door. [reader] bowed back and watched her go down the path until the plum trees folded around her and she was gone.
[reader] went back inside.
she cleared the table and swept again. she mopped where the afternoon foot traffic, modest as it was, two customers, had scuffed the floor. she replaced the incense, returned to her stool, and picked up the black stone she'd set down two hours ago.
now then. she grinned and examined the board. where were we?
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
the afternoon light had gone long and thin and [reader] was twenty moves deep into a line she'd started regretting at move fifteen when a harsh, shrill sound came from the backyard.
she set down the stone slowly.
it was a particular kind of sound. not the creek, not the wind through the pine trees, and not even the familiar percussion of the plum branches. it was something sudden and physical, accompanied by a brief, quickly swallowed noise that was almost a word.
those damn racoons, she concluded and sighed for the umpteenth time. they've found a new way to destroy the compost pile.
she got off the stool and left to investigate.
the backyard was small and agreeably overgrown. a vegetable patch along the southern wall, the water barrel beneath the eave, a stone path between the back door and the gate bordered on both sides by wild grass and the sprawling roots of the nearest plum tree.
[reader] went to the compost corner.
it was not the raccoons..!
instead, wedged between the overturned trash barrel and the stone wall sat a person...
a young man, roughly her age or close enough, in black robes, in a position that could most diplomatically be described as unexpected, had come down hard against the wall and the trash barrel, which had tipped its contents in a scattered radius around him.
the two of them stared at each other before y/n broke the silence.
"...uh," [reader] said. "are you okay?"
he was on his feet in one motion, faster than the situation suggested he should be, given how comprehensively the trash barrel had involved itself in the fall. he shook the dirt off his sleeves as if reclaiming something that had been temporarily seized and lifted his chin.
"i'm fine." he stuttered and cough twice.
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
she guided him inside with pragmatic hospitality, keeping her mouth shut and not attempting to ask anything about what had happened outsideâcuriosity aside, she wasn't going to be the one to tear his dignity any further than the trash barrel already had.
"take a seat anywhere you'd like."
he obliged. his eyes moved around the inn, taking in his surroundings with unhurried attention.
thankfully, he didn't seem to be injured.
"what can i get you?" [reader] asked, going back behind the counter.
he turned to look at her. and now that he was still, now that she had decent light and a moment to actually lookâ
he was startlingly tall. even if seated, she could clearly see how long his limbs were. (perhaps she was just short)
the height and build together implied someone deeply disciplined in whatever it was he did. his hair was tied up cleanly, a few shorter strands loose around his face. his features were striking, to put it plainly. he was handsome, [reader] noticed. he looked like something sculpted with intention, sculpted by the lord himself.
but [reader] wasn't interested in boys younger than her. in fact, she wasn't particularly interested in anyone!
she also noticed the black robes.
and on the breast of those robes, worked in pale thread of a plum blossom crescent.
something turned over in the back of [reader]'s mind, and this time she didn't set it aside.
even if she hadn't wanted to admit it, the truth was difficult to argue with. mount hua, the sect that had been teetering on the edge of ruin and oblivion, had recently begun reclaiming its former glory, albeit still far off but progressing with a swiftness that made people pay attention. and now, one of their disciples had come down to this barren outskirts inn, smelling faintly of dukuang liquor and vegetable scraps.
there was no way anyone living near the huashan mountains hadn't heard the news. word traveled the way plum blossoms didâeverywhere, whether you wanted it to or not.
"do you have alcohol?" the boy chimed in suddenly. his face indicated greediness in its final form.
[reader] raised an eyebrow. isn't he a taoist?
"...yes," she says with much hesitance. "we do."
"good, good," he beamed. "i'll have ten bottles."
"al, alright." [reader] manages to let out. "please be comfortable..."
she moved to collect what he needed and he settled back in the chair, placing one knee up, oozing with energy like he owns the place. oh he was already comfortable alright, even without her saying anything.
she glanced at him again briefly.
what's a disciple of mount hua sect doing here?!
"what's a disciple of mount hua sect doing here?" she asks finally, her voice lower than she intended it to be.
he didn't even blink. "eh, you know." he waved a hand with total ease. "i just... tripped here and there, and then stumbled here."
your acting is terrible. [reader] thought. young man, at least try to make it convincing!
"i see," she stares at him.
she brought the ten bottles of dukuang liquor to the table, which is, already being inhaled the second it's set down.
the man halted his drinking and smacked his lips without restraint. "pwah! this liquor is good!" he exclaimed.
"...is there anything else the young taoist needs?" [reader] meekly asks.
he then pondered out loud with one finger pressed to his chin, eyes screwed shut for better thinking with the expression of a man taking this extremely seriously. his eyes snapped open and he proceeded to order a whole feast for himself, rattling off enough meat and ribs and pork and chicken and tofu and dumplings and noodles and more to feed a small clan, or at minimum, a very large and very hungry family.
despite the peculiar situation and the even more peculiar customer she had tonight, it was her duty to serve no matter what.
"since i'm the only worker here, the young taoist's order will take at least twenty minutes... is that alright?"
"yeah sure sure." he went right back to drinking, or rather, inhaling, without paying much attention to her, shooing her away with one hand as if she was a fly he lost interest in.
she internally cursed him with her fists curled tight at her sides. this was the first time she had encountered a taoist so daring, irksome, and aggressively unaware of basic social etiquette!
[reader] rolled up her sleeves, stomped to the kitchen, and summoned her inner yukihira soma. after she had meticulously finished cooking what amounted to a generation's worth of food, she plated everything and carried it to his table with all deliberateness.
his table had practically no space left, and there were still four dishes pending.
[reader] broke out in a sweat and looked at the young taoist, who had apparently finished inhal, ahem, drinking, all ten bottles of wine.
she felt a migraine incoming, real soon.
anyone looking at this scene would find no fault in [reader] for formally declaring him as one of the seven deadly sins: gluttony!!
upon setting the remaining porcelain plates onto the table, the boy picked up his chopsticks and immediately enacted on stuffing his face with whatever his hands could reach. even before finishing what was already in his mouth, he shoved in another. and another. then another.
"MM-Hmm! tish ish sho good!" he marveled in a state of absolute bliss, rice bits escaping freely as he spoke with his mouth at full capacity. "you cooked tish?!"
he ate like a starved lion who had not seen food in three consecutive lifetimes.
[reader] confirmed with a sheepish nod. "ahahaha... i'm glad it's to your liking..."
she stiffly, slowly backed away from the beelzebub incarnation and returned to her weiqi board.
she picked up a white stone and placed it on the board before glancing up again, not quite at him, but rather, at the ceiling, thinking deeply.
he seems quite the familiar martial artist...
she turned the thought over. the black robes, the height, that face. the bearing she'd filed away earlier and was now quietly pulling back out, dusting off and examining.
she pressed the pad of her index finger to her chin, her mind going off deliberately, carefully quiet.
oh..! was it the worldly murim competition..?
hmm. she pursed her lips and thought hard.
she'd been three stalls deep into a dumpling purchase at the time and had only looked up because the crowd had gone very very quiet. she'd looked over the heads of the people in front of her and she'd seenâ
...mount hua's divine dragon?!
she was dreaming. she was sure of it. she had momentarily forgotten about the board game entirely and blinked three times for measure before opening her mouth then closing it again.
hahaha... no way. one of history's most renowned sect disciples, the winner (practically) of the tournament, was just... just here. in the middle of the barren outskirts inn that [reader] worked at. she was surely dreaming!
she would've liked that to be the case, actually. but unfortunately, there was an indisputable, persistent little doom whispering directly into her left ear that it was definitely, definitely! not a dream.
mount hua's divine dragon...
you know what? as much as [reader] liked her peace, there was no denying it. a disciple of mount hua was inside her inn. moreover, even if it was a sect infamous for being less like taoists and more like bandits, and even if that young boy over there had come with the apparent intention of draining every last drop of the inn's remaining stock, as someone who'd encountered pretty much countless customers with all kinds of personalities, she could theoretically accept this fact.
but of all people, the customer she was serving just happened to be the one notorious for being cruel and savage!
[reader] felt her legs going weak and gripped the counter for support.
she'd heard all kinds of things from other people's mouths about his infamous deeds. the kind of stories that got passed around at teahouses and market stalls, each retelling worse than the last, the sort of reputation that preceded a person like a thundercloud rolling in ahead of a storm. and now she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with him!!
her heart was ready to leap straight out of her ribcage at any given second. her stomach grumbled out of sheer anxiety. (organ failure)
and it seemed like the noise was loud enough that the devil heard it from across the room.
the young taoistâuh, no, chung myung looked over at her direction. "are you okay?" it was actually more like "ar tu uke?" from the sheer amount of food inside his mouth, but [reader] deciphered it nonetheless.
"y, yeah." she held her stomach.
chung myung frowned. "that doesn't sound very convincing."
"...can you please stop talking with your mouth full?"
"okey!" chunks of meat flew out.
what did i even expect...
a sigh leaves [reader]'s mouth and a grumble was heard once again. [reader] breaks out in cold sweat. what's wrong with my stomach now, huh?!
"uh," he says hesitantly. "i don't usually share food, but i'll give you a piece if you're hungry." handing out a portion in another bowl.
i swearâyou should just eat it, seeing as you don't look all that willing...
"i'm not hungry." she responds.
[reader] had dealt with all too many heart attacks in a singular day and she'd deeply appreciate it if misfortune would kindly stop queuing up. she shook her head and attempted to act normal, recomposing herself with dignified energy. (she's not fooling anyone)
hopefully, he was just here to dine and dash and nothing more. surely the young taoist's ethics and morals were good enough that he wouldn't harass an old innocent lady. right?
she coughed and cleared her throat, returning her attention to the weiqi board and picking up a black stone.
she attempted on soothing her nerves by paying attention to the board.
she'd been staring at the right flank for twenty uninterrupted minutes, considering a play she felt equally good and terrible about when the chair across the counter scraped.
please no, please no, let it be another person. i'll even accept a ghost!
[reader] slowly looked up.
chung myung had relocated.
at some point while she wasn't paying attention, he'd carried himself over to the counter after devouring an entire feast and was now sitting across from her, both arms resting on the surface.
there was something different about him as of the moment, from the boy who'd been sitting at a table minutes ago.
[reader] looked at him properly under the dimming, warm lights. his skin was flushed a tinted pinkâno different from the shade of plum blossoms, which [reader] found irritatingly poetic given the circumstances. his eyes were unfocused and hazy, yet somehow still piercing directly through her own. his lips were pursed into a small, probably unconscious pout.
chung myung blinked slowly at [reader], his lashes fluttering. he tilted his head and slurred out. "i can play." his voice came out weak. he looks down at the board.
is he... drunk? she thought. obviously, [reader], who wouldn't be drunk after twenty eight bottles of alcohol?
"you're just... playing withâhicâyourself right now..." he added, swaying slightly, yet his eyes remained stubbornly fixed on her.
[reader] looked behind him at the table, once overflowing with enough food to feed a small army, now wiped completely out of existence. huh.
chung myung weakly pointed at her and blinked one eye slowly. "sinceâhicâi'm here... iâhicâmight as well... lend a hand... hic!"
ugh, he stinks of alcohol. a brief crinkle appeared on her nose. she felt a vein in her temple pop.
"how old is the young taoist," she started, setting down the stone with serene, totally not fake calmness, "to be talking to someone so informally?"
he blinked again, mind still cloudy and meandering somewhere several li away. "imh, eighteeen..." chung myung hiccuped yet again. then, without any particular transition, "hoow... oldâhicâis the madam..?" his voice dragged out.
he absorbed this and looked at her with the dumbest expression she'd seen on a human face in recent memory. and then, with total and weaponized lightness, he blurted outâ
"ohh? an old... hag!" dissolving immediately into a string of laughter, giggling and hiccuping at the same time, his tone sitting somewhere between the lines of teasing and tickled by his own observation.
what did he just call me? the last, thin thread of her sanity snapped.
[reader] hand chopped chung myung clean on the head. the sound of the impact was flat and precise. his head snapped sideways off the stool by four inches before he caught himself, stumbling.
he blinked and rubbed the spot, utterly baffled. normally, he was the one doing the hitting.
from over the counter, [reader] crossed her arms and took a very deep breath. "i don't appreciate the young taoist calling me that term."
for someone hailed as the world's strongest, he was cutting a remarkably pitiful figure at this current moment.
"hic. i don't relish inâhicâyou, calling me young, either." he showed distaste and pouted slightly. "i'm not a child, hicâyou know..?" he pointed at her accusingly, his beetroot face very much still in full effect.
[reader] stared at him for a moment and sighed. "you should show respect to those older than you."
"then..." he slurred, still rubbing his head, "hicâcan i call you... jiejie?" he dragged it out, voice dropping low and oddly measured for someone who couldn't sit straight.
she furrowed her brows at that. "well, that's certainly better than old hag, don't you think?"
he just nodded and chuckled, unsteadily.
chung myung was still drunk out of his mind. he was perfectly capable of expelling the toxin from his body, but why drink at all if you'd resort to such things? he felt strangely addicted to the haziness, even now. especially now. his cheeks went warm, if not warmer than they already were.
"sit down properly," [reader] ordered. "and take the white stones."
"yes, jiejie." a low grin stretched across his cheeks.
he pulled the stool back square, drew the white stones toward him, and began sorting through them with lazy, unhurried fingers. "don't let your guard down~" he said in a singsong tone, placing his first stone.
"i never do," [reader] retorted back, and placed hers.
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
the game took a long time.
not because it was close. it wasn't, particularly. [reader] played as she always did. letting the board breathe before she moved, building something patient and strategic.
chung myung, for his part, was one intelligent, smug little bastard. he knew that about himself. he'd sat across from scholars and strategists and walked away victorious enough times that easy confidence had become his default setting at a board game. but there was something very funny about that confidence about to get demolished.
"does jiejie... play a lot?" he inquired, gaze cutting directly across the counter that separated them, lingering a heartbeat longer than comfort strictly allowed.
"hmm." he placed a black stone with deliberate slowness. "no opponent?" he tilted his head and leaned slightly toward her, eyes heavy-lidded but gleaming underneath sharply accompaniedby mischief.
what... is he doing? she glanced at him briefly before looking back down at the board, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands. "...i'm my own opponent."
"hmm... that sounds exhausting," he hummed unceremoniously.
[reader] narrowed her eyes awkwardly and moved a piece. "it keeps me sharp."
"or it means" his own words cut off by hiccups. "you never lose."
they played in silence, and the tension thickened with every stone placed, the way pressure builds before something gives. the air between them felt close and weighted, as though the inn itself had drawn a breath and forgotten to let it out.
the inn settled around them and the incense burned into a soft, thin thread. the lanterns in their brackets caught the evening light and began to carry more of the room's illumination as the window light went gold.
as the game wore on, [reader] kept drowning in the stares the martial master insists on giving her, the glances were both too soft and too sharp to be accidental. piercing but intentional. softly but dangerously. she wondered, with some private irritation, how he was managing to play at all when his eyes were on her face more than they were on the board.
"you know," the words slipped out before she could stop herself. "you're gonna burn a hole in me if you don't stop doing that."
"hm?" he leaned in a fraction once more, the soft illuminating light caught him, casting shadows to sharpen the angles in his face. "doing what?" a faint curve of his lips appeared. she couldn't distinguish whether it's a smirk or a smile.
at the same time, he made an aggressive move in the upper right corner. creative, she'd give him that, it was the kind of play that would've worked against most opponents and probably had before.
[reader]'s grip tightened on a glass she had grabbed earlier to quench her thirst and countered his move.
he studied the board, pursing his lips. "jiejie," he uttered, with the tone of a person forming a grievance.
"jiejie, are you letting me play or are you already done?" his words tumbled out in a slow pace, barely distinguishable as he dropped his consonants, the dukuang liquor still in effect.
"what makes you think there's a difference?"
he didn't answer, and instead placed another stoneâthis one more careful. she watched his lips press into a thin line, the easy performance of earlier gone. perhaps, she thought, he was finally paying attention to the board rather than whatever he kept finding so interesting on her face.
she closed the last territory in the lower right corner with a calm, unhurried move and set her stone down with a soft, precise click.
the game was finished before chung myung could even register it.
he stared at it for a long time, rendered speechless. his expression displayed utter disbelief.
"hm," said [reader] calmly. "you need more practice."
ha! sucker! she sneered inwardly, jumping in delight inside her head. i won against the world's strongest in a game of weiqi. i should put that down on my personal achievements.
he picked up one of the black stones and turned it over in his fingers. he had the expression of someone conducting a detailed examination of their own defeat, looking for where exactly things had gone wrong and finding, somewhat to his displeasure, that it had been going wrong for a whole while.
"again," he demanded, blinking heavily while trying to focus, before trailing off and leaning his full weight against the counter.
he looked at the window and the light outside was completely gone. it was full dark, the plum trees barely visible as shapes against the sky, and the lanterns in the inn were fully carrying the room now, soft and orangey warm. hours have passed without the pair noticing.
chung myung looked at her once more, looking dissatisfied, perhaps at his defeat, or at the whole situation entirely. he clicked his tongue and dismissed his pride, for now. he didn't really have the energy to argue in this particular moment.
he stood up, and the second he did, he tripped and lost his footing. a loud crash echoed through the inn.
[reader] immediately stood up on her stool to check on him. she leaned over the counter and could clearly see him grimacing. the lines knotting and deepening across his face as it distorted with pain, a wince pulling at the corners of his eyes.
she reached out a hand toward him.
on the ground, chung myung sluggishly stared at the hand outstretched to himâthen grabbed it, and with one pull that was either accidental or absolutely not, effectively threw [reader] off her footing. she effectively collapsed on top of him.
the two of them went very still, rendered speechless. their noses were inches apart, close enough that if either of them moved even slightly, the unthinkable would happen. chung myung's gaze softened, and he looked directly into her eyes before his gaze dropped, just briefly, to her lips. it was [reader]'s turn for her cheeks to bloom pink.
"...jiejie, at least take this disciple out to dinner first." he said, looking smug, a corner of his mouth lifting.
i have no interest in younger men!!
[reader] scrambled off the disciple in a hurry, coughing as she stood and putting a respectable distance between them immediately. she did not want to develop a reputation as a vicious lady preying on younger men. if anything, wasn't she the one being preyed on?!
she could only conclude as much, given the stares she'd been receiving since earlier.
the disciple eventually stood up himself, using the legs of a nearby chair for support.
"man..." he rubbed his head, for the second time that evening. then he shook off the dust that had gathered in his robe when he fell. unexpectedly, chung myung also pinched his nose and exhaled, releasing a tremendous cloud of evaporated dukuang liquor straight out his ear, and into the air.
ugh! it stinks! [reader] frantically waved her hand around, slapping at the reek until the fog dissipated and the disciple reappeared in clear, sober outline once more.
she groaned internally, long and suffering. she didn't know what else this boy could possibly get up to inside an inn, and frankly, she'd had enough mischief for one full day.
chung myung then reached into his robe and tossed a pouch onto the counter.
though, [reader] would've demanded this amount anyway. how thick was his faceâeating an enormous quantity of food and thinking anything less would be acceptable?
she unfolded the tie of the heavy pouch and pried it open, expecting gold. but what she found instead was platinum.
for a third-class disciple, chung myung had paid in an exceeded amount, and in platinum at that! perhaps he was kinder than he seemed. perhaps this was the good karma owed to her for the sufferings she'd endured throughout the day.
but even so, she hesitated. this was an immense quantity of money, and she wasn't so shameless as to completely rid a customer of their coin.
"thi, this is too much," she stammered out.
"it's for the food," he argued.
"for the food," he interrupted. "and the game. and because jiejie's cooking is extremely good." a lopsided grin etched itself across his face. he placed both hands on either side of his hips and tilted his head, leaning forward yet again.
chung myung didn't bother responding. he was already heading for the door, hands tucked into his sleeves. finding the rest of the conversation entirely optional.
[reader] looked at the pouch.
she turned it over in her palm. how much was it in total? the weight of it settled against her hand and the answer arrived with the blunt force of a revelation. this is enough to not work for three months. it seemed that he had amassed quite the wealth for someone who'd just crawled out of her trash barrel.
the bell above the door chimed.
"byebye, jiejie~!" he called, his voice carrying the teasing easy and unhurried even as he stepped out into the dark. "this one will be back tomorrow." he cracked a side smile at that. which, to [reader], practically sounded like a threat.
and then there was the sound of footsteps on the stone path as he trudged off before disappearing into the shadows.
[reader] collapsed on the spot. her legs, which had apparently been held together by willpower and obligation alone for the better part of the evening, gave up on her all at once. she let out a gasp exaggeratedly and theatrically but completely sincere, and released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. one hand clutched the fabric at her chest.
she sat there on the floor, alone in the lantern-lit inn with a pouch of platinum coins in one hand, staring at the door.
[reader] gulped in a deeply melodramatic way. ugh...
outside, the plum trees moved in the night wind, and a few petals lifted from the branches and drifted down to the path where they landed without any particular significanceâindifferent, as petals are, to the suffering of inn workers.
the raccoons, who had apparently been asleep under the porch steps for the better part of the evening, stirred briefly at the sound of retreating footsteps and then went back to sleep.
they had not caused any problems tonight. this was, [reader] supposed, a kindness from the universe. a modest compensation for every incident that had cost her her sanity since dawn.
mount hua's divine dragon, she thought. of all the people in all of the mountains to fall into my compost.
the longer she thought about it, the more depressed she felt.
ďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
[a/n]: hi, thank you for reading (áľâá´â )ďžďžthis is my first time posting a fic on tumblr, please treat me well *theatrically bows*
believe me, i tried my best to not make chung myung as ooc as possible. I just figured he'd be a bit flirty when drunk and in the presence of a beautiful madam ââ (â Â â Ëâ _â Ëâ )â â
please, he's totally into older women!
if you want to read something similar, read this!!! though the fandom is unstable universe, they are my inspiration for making this ( á ) i highly recommend! super peak
if you want to see more of my works, my wattpad is @YUEBlNG
though the stuff i write there might differ
