Many more years later
Mo Xiao had, over the years, developed what could only be described as an unfair advantage.
It was not his fighting ability, though that was considerable. It was not his status, though that had grown substantially as Thousand Fang expanded and his role within it solidified. It was not even his face, though that had also, irritatingly, improved with age.
It was the way he moved through a room.
Han Shān had been watching it for three days now, with as much focus as he could muster, and yet he still could not identify the chanism.
Mo Xiao would simply arrive sowhere, settle into whatever space was available, and females would drift toward him like water finding a slope. He didn’t try. He barely seed to notice. He would be in the middle of a conversation about hunting routes or territorial boundaries or what to do about the boar problem in the eastern sector, and sohow, inexplicably, there would be a female at his elbow, and then another, and then a third offering him sothing to eat while the first two argued quietly about who had been there first.
"How do you do that?" Han Shān asked, reaching his limit.
It was the third evening. They were sitting at Thousand Fang’s central fire, which had grown considerably larger and more populated since Han Shān’s first visit at eight years old. Mo Xiao had, in the past hour, received two carved ornants, a very nice piece of dried at, and what appeared to be a handmade fur wrap pressed into his hands by a young wolf female who had then retreated to a safe distance and was watching him with intense eyes.
Mo Xiao looked up. "Do what?"
Han Shān gestured at the wrap. At the ornants. At the wolf female in the middle distance. At the general situation.
Mo Xiao looked at the wrap like he had forgotten it existed. "I don’t do anything."
"Sothing is happening."
"I’m just sitting here."
"That cannot be the explanation."
"It’s the explanation." Mo Xiao set the wrap aside. "You think too hard about it. That’s your problem."
"I don’t think too hard."
"You are analyzing like I’m a hunting pattern."
"I’m observing."
"It’s the sa thing." Mo Xiao picked up his food and ate. "Stop observing and just. Sit."
"I am sitting."
"You’re sitting like you’re guarding sothing. Relax."
Han Shān attempted to relax. His shoulders dropped approximately two degrees.
Mo Xiao looked at him. "That’s the sa."
"That’s as far as they go."
Mo Xiao sighed.
~
The woman arrived on the fourth day.
She ca in with a small trading group from the river settlents, three males and two females, carrying goods wrapped in waxed cloth.
Han Shān noticed her imdiately.
She was not a beastman. Or not entirely. She looked like Wen Jing. She had dark hair and a quick laugh and she was currently in an animated conversation with the Thousand Fang grain rchant about rates that she appeared to be winning comprehensively.
Han Shān’s chest constricted.
He identified it, catalogued it, and imdiately wished he hadn’t because now he had to do sothing about it.
He looked at Mo Xiao.
Mo Xiao was already watching him. Of course he was. Nothing passed the black panther.
"No," Mo Xiao said.
"I haven’t said anything."
"You have that face."
"I don’t have a face."
"You have a very specific face. It’s the sa face you made at the carved stick when you were eight and wanted to say you liked it but didn’t know how."
Han Shān looked away from the woman. Looked back. Looked away again. "She’s interesting."
"Mm."
"I am going to go talk to her."
Mo Xiao set down his cup slowly, his head racking with ideas of how to stop his friend. "Do you want advice?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Because I have—"
"I know how to talk to people."
Mo Xiao said nothing.
Han Shān straightened his spine, which was already very straight, making it sohow straighter, adjusted his furs, and walked across the clearing.
~
Act One: The Approach
He stopped four feet away from her and waited for her to finish her sentence.
This was polite. He was being polite. He had considered his approach and decided that interrupting was rude, so he would wait, and then he would speak, and it would be fine.
She finished her sentence. The grain rchant laughed. She laughed.
Han Shān waited.
She turned, still smiling from the conversation, and found him standing there.
The smile stayed. A social smile, curious, open. "Hello."
"Hello," Han Shān said.
A pause.
She waited for the next thing. He was also waiting for the next thing, specifically for his brain to produce it, which it was not doing with any urgency.
"Are you with the trading group?" she asked helpfully.
"No. I’m from the Northern Peaks."
"Oh! That’s a long way."
"Yes."
Another pause.
She had nice eyes, he noticed. Warm. Attentive. Currently trying to figure out if this conversation was going sowhere.
"I’m Sūn Lì," she offered.
"Han Shān."
"Is this your first ti in Thousand Fang?"
"No. My first ti here was when I was eight."
"A long ti ago then."
"Sixteen years."
She nodded, still smiling at him.
Say sothing, Han Shān told himself. Sothing interesting. Sothing that demonstrates personality and warmth and the kind of conversational quality that makes people want to continue talking.
"The territory has expanded significantly," he said. "The eastern boundary markers have moved approximately a mile since my last visit. The new huts are well-constructed. The grain storage is an improvent over what I saw sixteen years ago."
Sūn Lì looked at him.
"Thank you," she said carefully. "I’ll pass that on."
~
Act Two: The Recovery Attempt
From across the clearing, Mo Xiao watched.
He watched Han Shān discuss the grain storage. He watched the expression on Sūn Lì’s face cycle through polite interest, confusion, and the very specific look of soone trying to decide if this was a joke. He watched Han Shān apparently decide to follow up the grain storage with an assessnt of the fire pit placent.
Mo Xiao put his face in his hands.
Han Shān was not unaware that it was going poorly. He had excellent instincts, honed by years of reading threatening situations, and the situation had the distinct quality of sothing threatening.
She was still smiling, which was good, but the smile had the increasingly fixed quality of a smile that was working very hard.
He needed to redirect.
"What do you trade?"
And this, sohow, was better.
She talked about her trade, textiles from the river settlents, and he asked questions that were genuine because he was genuinely curious.
For a few minutes it was almost a normal conversation between two people who were finding their footing.
"Do you travel often?" she asked.
"I will be. I am taking on more territory responsibilities." He paused. "I’ll be traveling between the Northern Peaks and Thousand Fang."
"Oh," she said, and the warmth in her expression was real now, not perford. "So we might cross paths again."
"Possibly." And then, because he was Han Shān and sothing in him could not let a mont exist without attempting to improve it with information, he added: "The Northern Peaks trading routes are significantly more efficient than the river settlents’ current paths. I have calculated an alternative route that would reduce travel ti by approximately three days."
Sūn Lì stared at him.
"I could draw you a map," he offered.
From across the clearing, the sound of Mo Xiao’s bowl hitting the ground was clearly audible.
~
Act Three: The Conclusion
She was very kind about it. He had to give her that.
She thanked him for the conversation. She said the map sounded very practical. She said she was sure she would see him around and excused herself to rejoin her trading group with the smooth, unhurried exit of soone who had been making graceful escapes from awkward situations for most of their adult life.
Han Shān watched her go.
Then he walked back across the clearing and sat down beside Mo Xiao.
Neither of them spoke for a mont.
"The grain storage," Mo Xiao said.
"I know."
"You assessed the grain storage."
"I know."
"And then the fire pit placent."
"I’m aware."
"And then the travel routes." Mo Xiao picked up his cup. Set it down. "You offered to draw her a map, Han Shān."
"It would save her three days."
"She didn’t want to save three days. She wanted to have a conversation."
"We were having a conversation."
"About infrastructure."
Han Shān looked at the fire, fiddling with his fingers. "I don’t know how to talk to people."
"I know."
"I know things. I know many things. I know territories and weather patterns and structural efficiency and combat technique. I know how to read a situation and respond appropriately to danger." He paused. "I don’t know how to be interesting to soone who is not in danger."
Mo Xiao looked at him for a long mont.
"You’re interesting," Mo Xiao said, simply. "You’re just interesting in a way that takes ti to understand. So people don’t have the patience for it." He shrugged. "The right one will."
Han Shān said nothing.
Across the clearing, Sūn Lì was laughing at sothing one of her companions had said. She glanced over once, caught his eye, and gave him a small, not unkind smile before looking away.
He had offered to draw her a map.
"Mo Xiao," Han Shān said.
"Yes."
"Tell how to be less like this."
Mo Xiao considered the request with the seriousness it deserved. "Stop assessing and start noticing," he said finally. "There’s a difference. Assessing is looking for what’s useful. Noticing is looking for what’s there." He looked at the fire. "She had a nice laugh. Did you notice that?"
Han Shān thought about it.
"Yes," he said. "I noticed that."
"Start there next ti."
Han Shān looked at the fire. "And don’t ntion the grain storage."
"And don’t ntion the grain storage."
"Or the fire pits."
"Especially not the fire pits."
"Or the map."
Mo Xiao sighed. "Han Shān. How do you frighten entire mountain ranges into submission and yet cannot talk to one woman?"
Han Shān had no answer for this.
The fire crackled. Sowhere across the clearing, Sūn Lì’s laugh rang out again.
Han Shān sat with his terrible conversational instincts, his excellent posture, nad his nine very useful facts about trading route efficiency. Then he decided that he was going to figure this out.
Eventually.
Probably.
He was going to need more ti by the fire.
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