“Good God, put her down,” Petra, who was the team’s acting medic, ordered the poor girl to be carefully positioned.

Gwen unwrapped the bedsheets she had used to bundle the girl.

"Gwen, give me your Decanter of Everlasting Water."

"Here."

Petra washed away the blood from the girl's body.

“Heal Moderate Wounds!”

Lihong's bruised and mangled flesh mended.

“Those fucking animals.” Gwen gritted her teeth. She had to undress the girl before they could heal Lihong; her ire boiled with every bloody strip of torn cloth peeled from Lihong's skin.

Percy, Kusu and Richard had been sent away for the moment, so it was just the three girls tending to the battered adolescent. “To think I had felt sorry for the old bastard.”

“They’re known for this sort of thing.” Lulan spat, watching Gwen as she wiped away the blood from Lihong's lower body. “I want to exterminate every single one!”

“Shut up, both of you,” Petra snapped. “Lulan, go get the other body, we need to hand it over to the Fungs."

When Lulan returned, Lihong had been tidied up.

“She’s still in shock.” Gwen recognised the aimless stare. “Lihong, can you hear me? My name is Gwen Song. We’re here to rescue you. You’re safe now. We've defeated ALL of the Water Ghosts.”

With agonising slowness, Lihong turned her face. Her bruises had faded, though the girl's eyes remained vacant.

Gwen groaned inwardly. The girl was delicate and beautiful, possessing a natural innocence. She would have had a wonderful life ahead of her, and now this happened. From the girl's aura, Gwen guessed her to be an Ice Mage, likely a Transmuter, with a smidgen of something else.

“Lulan.” Petra gazed into Lulan’s face. "Look at me."

“YES?” Lulan swallowed. Why was Petra staring at her?

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure I can.”

Lulan puzzlingly observed Petra turning the girl's vacant gaze toward her own.

“Calm Emotion!”

A dull aura of Enchantment circulated through Petra’s husky-blue eyes, turning her pupils golden. Lulan opened her mouth in amazement.

A Mind Mage! The Sword Mage gulped. Since when was Petra a Mind Mage? Wasn’t Gwen’s cousin a Mineral Mage researching Spell Cubes?

Lihong blinked.

"I need to go deeper," Petra informed the others.

She bore into the girl’s vapid pupils, channelling the Charm Person glamour.

“Lihong, calm yourself, you are in good company.”

As if a cord had been pulled, Lihong’s body reanimated. Tears began to well in her eyes, flowing freely down either side of her face as a moan haunting to behold bled from her lips.

“Ah… oh… ah…” Lihong choked on the sound of her voice.

“It’s okay.” Gwen embraced the poor girl. “It’s fine now. You’re safe. I killed them. We killed them. They’re all dead.”

Lihong clutched Gwen’s torso, then began to wail.

“CAO!” Lulan spat. “I want to obliterate another hundred of those bastards right now!”

Petra motioned for Lulan to shut up.

“Lihong,” the Mind Mage spoke softly, her husky voice low and commanding as she escalated her control to the tier 3 Suggestion, simultaneously activating a Read Emotion. “Who assaulted you?”

Lihong’s face left Gwen’s tear-soaked shoulder, taking on an expression of heart-rending sadness as an irresistible compulsion compelled her to speak.

“Yuan Xie…“

By Lihong's second syllable, Gwen’s mind was white with static.
Lulan stared, her pink lips agape enough to encompass a hen’s egg.

Petra acknowledged the confession wistfully.

“As I suspected.” She lamented before turning to Gwen. “Her injuries are not consistent with an attack by any of the Ghosts, not to mention Water Ghosts are an entirely different kind of creature to the single-sexed mountain Jūefu. They're not known for violating human women, as they prefer their own. I doubt a tribe on the verge of starvation would have copulation on its list of priorities."

“But…” Gwen took Lihong’s cold hands in her own. The girl's fingers were icicles.

Petra’s eyes retained their golden glow.

“Lihong, tell us what happened.”

“I couldn’t see him in the dark,” Lihong confessed. “The water was filthy, and we haven’t had food for days. I was growing delirious.”

“You didn’t bring food in your Storage Rings?” Gwen asked.

“The Water Ghosts took our Rings… We resisted, but one of them gnawed off Qilu’s fingers. They made us take out all our rations, but we only brought three day's worth. They caught us by surprise, Master Xie escaped by himself, leaving us to our fate, but they caught him anyway.”

“You weren’t brought to the prison at the same time?”

“No.” Lihong shook her head. “The four of us were caught the first time. The Monkeys took Qilu after his wounds festered. Then they took Weng and Jiao, one after another. That’s when Master Xie joined me in prison.”

“I am sorry.” Gwen warmed the girl’s hands by circulating a mote of her Almudj’s essence through her fingers. It was too bad she couldn't share the Essence with other humans. “But your companions have died.”

“They ate them?” Lihong looked up, her eyes brimming with suppressed emotion from Petra's Enchantment.

Gwen nodded.

“Master Xie was right then, even in the end.” Lihong sobbed. “He said they'd eat them, and that they'd eat us too."

"Tell us about Yuan Xie," Petra's iron voice demanded. "Why did he attack you? How did he die?"

Lihong appeared to battle Petra's Suggestion. It took a moment for her expression to relax.

"Master Xie was in love with me," the girl stated. "When they threw him in there with me, he apologised for running away to call for reinforcements. He told me that he was going to be back as soon a Message had gotten to Nantong. I forgave him then. I was so scared. I didn't know what else to say. Qilu and Weng and Jiao were all gone."

"Then what happened?"

Gwen held the girl tighter in her arms, cupping her maternally, feeling endless empathy welling in her chest.

"Magus Xie kept a Dancing Light on, but the Monkey-men made him dispel his magic. We sat in the darkness, listening to my stomach growl. I was so thirsty. We didn't dare drink the filthy water. I grew more and more delirious. We were sure that no help was coming. We're not supposed to be here. We didn't tell anyone because we were Quest Poaching. It's stupid, I know, but I just wanted to see what it's like to do a Quest. The training at home was always so boring - Master Xie said this was a good opportunity, so close to home as well..."

"Focus," Petra guided the girl's thoughts. "What did Xie do?"

"I lost track of time in the darkness. Hungry and thirsty, I tried to sleep. Xie woke me up and said there's something he wanted to tell me. That was when he confessed to me that he had always been in love with me, ever since I was a child, and that he wanted to be with me. Since we were both going to die, Xie said he would make an honest woman out of me. He said the Monkeys would have their way with me anyway, then eat me after. If that's how it's going to be, it may as well be him, who had devoted a decade of his life to me-”

“Honest woman!” Gwen fumed. The bastard. The paedophile bastard.

“I was groggy by then, but I knew he was wrong. I promised him I would never speak of this again if he would leave me alone.”

“And then what happened?" Petra pushed for confirmation.

Lihong's voice was quivering now, her words coming more rapidly. Her eyes stared into the middle-distance as she recounted Xie's final moments.

“I blacked out. When I woke up, Xie was on top of me. He was undressing me and…”

“OKAY.” Gwen arrested Petra’s interrogation. “I think we can guess the rest. I take it you attacked him in the dark when his pan- when his defences were down?”

The girl nodded.

"How did-"

"Petra, that's enough," Gwen begged her companion.

Under the dim light, Petra's golden pupils sent shivers down Gwen's spine.

“Lihong, rest now.” Petra invoked a Forgetful Slumber. The spell would remove the last hour of Lihong's memories, after which a tier 6 Recall Memory was needed to expose their interrogation. “Things will be better when you wake up. Your loved ones are looking out for you.”

“I understand.” The girl tucked into Gwen's bosoms, then promptly fell asleep.

The three girls regarded each other with heavy hearts.

“You alright?” Petra enquired of their overthinking, oversensitive, overtly sentimental cousin.

Gwen cradled the girl in her arms, feeling the tremors running through Lihong's body as she slumbered.

“I am too exhausted to think,” she confessed. “In fact. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okay.” Petra glanced at Lulan, who had nothing to add. “Let's meet up with the Fungs. Gwen, pass me something loose and comfortable for Lihong.”

Petra studied her cousin as she dressed Lihong in slacks, then bundled the girl with towels. Gwen seemed lost as she carried Lihong to the entrance of the chamber. Petra then turned to Lulan.

"Lulu..."

"I saw nothing," Lulan affirmed her commitment to Petra's privacy. Then anxiously, she leaned in closer. "I don't understand, why did her bodyguard assault her? Isn't she like a daughter?"

The dull gold of Enchantment faded from Petra's eyes. As the familiar magic drained from her body, Petra couldn't help but recall the first lesson taught by Master Popov:

"Never trust anyone, my little devotchka; who knows what wickedness lurks beneath the amiable mien of smiling men? Don't trust anyone, not even me..."

“Lihong!”

Yuhua ran from her party to encompass her kinswoman.

“You found her! Thank Mao!”

“Where is Magus Xie?” Magus Wang enquired. “Is he safe?”

Gwen's party remained ominously reserved.

“I need a moment of your time,” Gwen artfully asserted. “Miss Yuhua may join us as well, but what I am about to tell you is a sensitive matter.”

Wang read the seriousness in their faces.

“Bian, Fan, Xiao-Mao, look after Miss Lihong. Give her food, water, whatever she wants. Yuhua, come with me.”

“Huh? Why? What’s wrong?” Their grave expressions made Yuhua's heart skip a beat. “Wocao! Magus Xie died, didn’t he?”

“When Father hears of this…” Yuhua wiped an angry tear from the edge of her eyes. “The entire line of Xie will pay!”

“…”

It was absurd to Gwen that one man’s crime could lead to the punishment of his whole family, but she wasn’t in a position to judge, especially after her blunder with the Chieftain. The Demi-human had demonstrated every aspect of humanity she would come to expect, and yet, she had butchered the old King like a dog.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

She had promised him a quick, clean death - instead, she exercised the excruciating torture of having one's existence erased from the Material Plane, having one's soul - assuming Demi-humans had souls - obliterated.

Lihong’s mental condition appeared to have regressed after Petra’s compulsion faded. Once the fortification provided by Petra's Mind Magic wore off, the girl turned inward, becoming both dumb and deaf. According to Petra, if the Clan was willing, a Rewrite Memory of the last few days was enough to ensure the girl went on with her life oblivious to the truth. The origin of such magic, however, would be scarce indeed.

After handing over Xie's corpse and Lihong's bloody dress, they were ready to depart.

“Miss Song, as Miss Lihong is unable to validate your findings, is it at all possible to invite you and your party to enjoy the hospitality of the Clan of Fung for a few days?” Magus Wang bowed respectfully, ensuring that there were no misunderstandings. “I am certain Master Dai would be more than happy to make your acquaintance once more.”

“I need to get back to training in Fudan,” Gwen began.

“Of course, once the matter is resolved; we would very much like to reward your party for your part in recovering Miss Lihong. She is a favourite of the Patriarch’s, you see. Despite this tragedy, the young Miss would continue to be cherished and protected like a delicate pearl. As for her saviours, there would be ample reward in the form of CCs, HDMs and whatever treasures our Clan could offer.”

“A few days in Nantong sounds like just the ticket,” Richard interrupted his bashful cousin before she accepted altruism as a currency. “Don’t you think so, Gwen?”

Gwen quickly glanced at the rest of her party.
Petra was eager to return to Shanghai.
Lulan and Kusu were desperate for resources.
Percy shrugged, leaving the decision to her.

“I guess we can take up your hospitality for a short while. Pats, are you alright with that?”

“I'll head back myself.” Petra wasn’t one to mince words or suffer in politeness. “Don't worry about me."

“We are happy to deliver Miss Kuznetsova to the Shanghai ISTC Interchange,” Magus Fung offered. “If so, would she consider staying for a banquet?”

“Pats?”

“That is agreeable.” Petra ruminated on her schedule; even if she left now, she wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.

“Excellent, that’s settled then.” Magus Wang visibly relaxed. “Let us return to the city.”

A small fleet of dark sedans met Gwen’s party on the halfway built highway some half-an-hour trek from the Water Monkeys’ lair.

“Japanese imports?” Gwen noted the familiar sight of the three diamonds-in-a-triangle she had seen earlier on the golems. Not even in Shanghai were imported vehicles all that common. The new District of Nantong was surprisingly wealthy.

“We’re a trading port.” Magus Wang convened with Gwen, Percy and Petra. Lulan, Kusu and Richard took up a separate vehicle. “The Japanese supply much of our Magi-tech in exchange for foodstuff, agricultural goods, and raw materials.”

"How interesting," Gwen noted, happy for the mental distraction. According to her research, the geographic trade dynamic of the tier 1 cities differed from her old world. Rather than transatlantic trade, the exchange of freight was restricted to geographic neighbours.

The Asian-Pacific nations formed an inner circle of commodity exchange via shipping lanes.

The Commonwealth possessed separate supply lines around the world, connecting its old colonies.

The U.S principally traded with its northern neighbour, Canada, as well as sporadically with an antagonistic Mesoamerica and warily with the Incan Empire in Cuzco.

As Gwen conversed with Wang about Nantong's canal, she realised there was a great opportunity here. The land around Nantong was as cheap as chips for the time being. With the city's development, there was bound to be new habitat blocks for NoMs, apartments and hotels for Mages, warehouses, factories - everything necessary to a thriving trade hub.

Once the topic of trade was exhausted, Wang turned to their Clan.

“The character for our House is the Xia Dynasty pictogram for ‘Harvest,’” the Magus explained. “It represents that which is abundant, lush, bountiful - an auspicious name indeed. Fung was the capital of the Scholar-King Zhou Feng, from which the nation took its name, today we know it as Suzhou.”

“It's an auspicious name," Gwen agreed.

“For five years now, our Clan has been working closely with the leadership in Shanghai, prepping the region for the opening of Tonglv Canal. Without major calamity, the region should complete its infrastructural upgrade within the decade, with the Fung Group leading the way."

“Once completed, the lion’s share of shipping from Singapore, Japan, Korea and Northern China will be routed through Nantong, correct?”

“Indeed, you are very astute, Miss Song.” Magus Wang patronised his young opponent, playing off her inexperience.

“How many TEUs will you be expecting?”

TEUs were shipping units, each denoting a twenty-foot container.

“About 12 Million units,” Magus Wang stated proudly, expecting Gwen to respond with open-eyed wonder.

Instead, he watched as the girl knitted her brows.

Did she not understand the majesty of such an astounding statistic? The Fung Magus questioned Gwen's economic naivety. It wasn't uncommon for the Guan-er-dai to know only how to spend crystals.

But it wasn't understanding that Gwen lacked, she was aghast that Shanghai’s Port Authority would only process 12 million units. Averaging 2 tonnes per twenty-foot container, it meant the volume of freight moving through Shanghai barely exceeded one-third of her old world.

“Will Nantong be operating its own cranes, golems and berths?”

Wang affirmed her enquiry with a nod.

“How will you be charging for administration, storage, maintenance? What economic model will the port be using? How are you tying manifest and admin costs to freight flow-rates? How competitive are your fees, per tonnage?”

“I am sorry...” Wang faltered, assaulted by Gwen's torrent of jargon. “The port operates at a loss. We're hoping the canal's income would change that.”

“…” Gwen blinked at the ageing Magus. “The port doesn’t turn a profit?”

“Ha.” Magus Wang smiled at Gwen kindly. “The Nantong-Shanghai anchorage is a state enterprise. We’re merely its custodians.”

“But Singapore turns a profit, surely.” Gwen reminded herself of the bustling scene she had seen when travelling there. “I was there! I am certain the city thrives on its deep-water anchorage. Economically, Singapore is on par with tier 1 cities like Shanghai.”

“A different governance with different circumstances, perhaps,” Wang answered evasively, unable to provide for Gwen a convincing explanation. “I am sure Singapore has its secrets.”

“I see,” Gwen agreed. She had to turn away because her lips were quivering.

HOLY SHIT, she couldn't help but feel herself on the verge of asphyxiation. The bloody CCP was running the port like a WWII operation. Cargo goes in - freight goes out. Ships paid for repairs and customs, and a small portion of the money went to maintenance and admin.

They had no idea! They had no FUCKING IDEA how the finance of a 21st-century harbour operated! In her old world, Singapore increased its GDP per capita from half of Malaysia's to that of six-times its neighbour, thanks to its world-class freight-hub.

Screw digging at Nantong's infrastructure! Not when she could tap the vein itself. Her business instinct was on fire. But to whom could she speak?

Gwen took a moment to calm her nerves. The serendipitous opportunity was an excellent distraction from the genocide they had just carried out. She expertly boxed up the nasty feelings haunting her insides and instead, looked outside at the canal - the object of her ascension.

The countryside had been stripped bare in anticipation of the massive canal and its parallel highways. Bottomless pits, the foundation of soon to be mega-Districts like the ones in Shanghai, would quickly engulf the terraformed landscape.

From the passager's seat, Wang inspected the rearview mirror, wondering why the girl was so interested in the banalities of a trading port when something like the IIUC or the prestige of the House of Fung was of so much more import and interest, not noticing that Gwen was squirming with anticipation.

“One last question,” Gwen implored from the rear. “Who’s in charge of the Port and the Canal? Who can speak for the Port Authority?”

“A triumvirate." The Magus knew the answer to this one. “Our Patriarch, Shen Fung, will be abdicating his role as the Police Commissioner of Shanghai to become Governor-Secretary of Nantong. He will be joined by Vice-Chairman Tu Guangshao of the Shanghai Economic Exchange, and Magister Chen Quin, formerly a President of Jianqiao University.”

“I see.” Gwen memorised the names. “Thank you, Magus.”

“We’ll be arriving soon. Please make yourself comfortable.”

Their motorcade took another half an hour to reach the city centre, delving into one construction zone after another, strewn with NoM labourers milling about like ants, aided by Civil-Construction Mages here and there.

At the western junction of the new city, Gwen noted an enormous Shielding Station, half constructed, reaching for the sky.

“A new design,” Wang stated proudly. “Did you hear about what happened in Sydney? All the Frontiers worth their crystals are switching to the newer modulation as a result.”

“I am from Sydney.” Gwen’s voice drifted from the back. “Richard and my brother as well. We are survivors of the Mermen invasion.”

“Ah, my condolences.” Magus Wang scolded himself for his inattention. “I hope your loved ones are safe.”

When Gwen didn’t answer, Wang furthermore slapped himself internally.

Percy meanwhile, watched his sister mumbling to herself, he caught a few words such as tariffs and freight deposits, but otherwise noted she was drowning in a chamber of her own thoughts.

The Fung compound, much to their surprise, was a skyscraper.

A construct of glass and concrete, styled with modern decor, the 'Harvest' Group building rose thirty storeys into the air, marking it as one of the tallest in the new commercial district.

“I am speechless,” Gwen greeted Yuhua and the small contingent of men and women who came out from the lobby to greet them. “Not an estate or a compound, but a high-rise?”

“We have to get with the times.” The Fung heiress laughed, threading her arm through Gwen’s elbow in an overtly friendly gesture, a complete one-eighty from their first meeting. The Fungs were VERY good at that, Gwen noted. They could change their position in a heartbeat, whether it was Dai, Lu, or Yuhua. “Did Wang gave you a pre-tour?”

“He did an excellent job.” Gwen beamed at Wang, who acknowledged Gwen’s praise sheepishly. “How’s Lihong fairing?”

“Same as before.” Yuhua bit her lower lip. “We’ll go see the Patriarch first. Wang, can you take us up? Tell Lihong's father to come as well. Also, not a word to anyone else.”

Wang left to make the arrangements while Gwen’s party, accompanied by Yuhua and the ashen Lihong, entered the building.

Once inside the spacious lift, they ascended until the 29th floor, where the door opened directly into a loft. Two guards in dark suits asked them to halt, greeting Yuhua with a cordial ‘Miss’. After a quick diagnostic of Gwen, the guards' mannerisms furthermore assumed an air of esteem.

Wang reappeared a minute later, directing the group from the lobby into the adjoining antechamber, then into a spacious office overlooking the city.

“Lihong!” A man with delicate, almost-feminine features rushed toward his daughter. “Mao! What’s happened to you?!”

Gwen parried a stab of sympathy.
Now was not the time; if she wasted this meeting with Shen Fung, she might not receive another, not unless she dated Dai or something shallow like that.

“Uncle…” Observing Gwen's silence, Yuhua wasn’t sure how to broach the matter either.

Thankfully, the presence of Lihong’s father seemed to have flipped a switch in the girl. With an utterance of secret agony, Liong fell into her father’s arms in a fit of flooding tears and torrential wailing.

“What’s wrong? Did someone bully you? Tell father! I’ll make sure they wish they were never born!”

Gwen’s party collectively winced.
If only retribution could fix what had been wrought.

“Jeishin, take Lihong to see Magus Ong.” Gwen's attention turned toward a second man standing behind the overlarge executive's table.

“Doctor Ong? Why? What’s wrong with Lihong?”

“Go.” the baritone voice possessed an air of command. “Take your daughter and go. Tell Ong to report back as soon as possible.”

Gwen’s attention shifted toward an unassuming middle-aged man wearing a coarse mandarin jacket. What is it with these power-types wearing humbling peasant garbs?! Gwen wondered. The Secretary-General also wore the same ill-fitting, cotton attire. Was it a power-status thing? Once a Mage reached a particular stratum in the CCP, one let go of the material things in life and assumed the guise of a peasant-leader, like Buddha having attained enlightenment?

“Wang, close the door. Is Xie’s family been watched?”

“Yessir, they’re in suite 2234. I don’t believe the family knows, Patriarch.”

“Hmmph.” Shen turned to regard Gwen and her team. The apex politician in Shanghai's newest District was an unassuming middle-aged scholar. He studied her group, his eyes scanning her party until finally resting on Gwen's face. "You're Guo Song's granddaughter?"

"Sir!" Gwen bowed.

“If someone told me that someone with Guo's mug could have a granddaughter like you, I'd strike them for lying."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sir." Gwen smiled sweetly.

"Xie's Family, Sir?" Wang gently implored his Master.

Shen's gaze remained focused on Gwen.

"I believe there is a western saying from the European Sect of the Jesuits which suits our purpose well - ‘The Sins of the Father’, are you familiar with it? Gwen?”

Her party glanced at one another; Petra indicated that she knew.

“Yessir.” It was Gwen who stepped forward. “I believe it’s from Exodus in the Old Testament, stating that their Old Deity is a jealous God, desiring to visit the iniquity of fathers onto his children to the third and the fourth generation.”

The Patriarch of the Fungs paced a little closer to Gwen.

“A scholar of esoteric theocracy! And at your age!” The Patriarch carried a formidable bearing. “But then again, you ARE the infamous Worm Handler of Fudan.”

It took all of Gwen’s fortitude to keep her face in check.

“A nickname circulated in jest, Sir. Just Gwen, please.”

“Dai has been whispering in my ear about your accomplishments since you met him in April,” Shen stated ominously. “Do you know my son, Dai?”

“He owes me a favour.” Gwen took another half-step forward, circulating a mote of Almudj’s Essence through her body to fortify her bearing. A windbreaker worn over a skin-suit was hardly an imposing presence, and right now, a good impression from Shen possessed immense value to Gwen.

“A favour he may not ever repay.” The Patriarch chuckled. “A foolish child playing at guan-xi, I hope you are not offended, Gwen.”

“The favour of the son, Sir. May very well be a favour from the father.”

Shen paused, then burst into laughter.

“VERY GOOD!” Shen guffawed uproariously. "You've got me there, young lady."

A Message spell bloomed beside the man’s ear.

"Excuse me-" Shen walked to the panoramic windows overlooking the city.

As the Message silently played, the Patriarch's face grew increasingly dark until Gwen could feel the room’s temperate dropping, enough to make Percy, the weakest of them, tremble.

Gwen, her party, Wang and Yuhua patiently waited for the Patriarch to finish.

“Magus Ong tells me that Lihong is indeed… sullied.” Shen had to close his eyes for a moment to recompose himself. “Tell me, Gwen the theologian. Should I punish Xie’s unknowing sibling? His father and mother, who even now reside below us? What do the Western texts dictate?”

“The Sins of the Father…” Gwen craned her neck so that she stood taller.

“Should be visited with extreme prejudice, should it not? Even upon his ten-year-old brother, a total innocent?”

“No, Sir.” Gwen’s retort surprised them all, considering her earlier quip. “It’s a misunderstanding. The correct passage later found in Deuteronomy states that: ‘Lo, Fathers shall not be put to death because of their children, nor shall children be put to death because of their fathers. Each one shall be put to death for his own sin. That’s how it is, I am afraid.”

“You advocate mercy?” The Patriarch’s voice possessed a dangerous edge.

“Gwen…” Richard coughed politely. “A father must have his revenge.”

Gwen brushed off her cousin.

“Nonetheless, Xie’s parents are innocent of their son’s crime, so are his brother and sister,” Gwen spoke out loud for all to hear. “I do not mean to assert that you or Lihong do not deserve retribution, Patriarch. The wisdom of the biblical texts are often themselves contradictory, and the selection of the passage is less so a commandment, more so a choice. Magister Shen, if you believe the lesson of Exodus more compelling than that of Deuteronomy, then you are well within your right. BUT in the end..."

Gwen stabbed a thumb into her bosom.

"...it is WE who make the choices.”

“What would you do? Miss Song?”

“I would make the culprit pay ten-thousand times over. I would flay his Astral Soul,” Gwen declared.

“But the man is dead.”

“Then I shall inform his family of his crimes, tell them the source of their misery, then exile them from my sight.”

“You would not kill them?”

Gwen’s hazel eyes sparkled with unnatural intelligence.

“Where’s the satisfaction in that?” she demanded. “I would be no better than a butcher. This way, his family lives, knowing that their bastard has doomed them for generations. Cursing his name every day of their wretched lives.”

Silence reigned as the Patriarch Shen ruminated Gwen’s proposal.

Percy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, uneasy in the presence of one so powerful and so evidently in the grasp of violent emotions seeking an outlet. Yuhua stared at Gwen with her mouth half open. Even as Shen’s darling daughter, she had never spoken with such eloquent confidence in her Father's presence, much less advising the Patriarch on the matter of retribution when one of his favourite nieces had been defiled by a man sent to protect her.

Finally, Shen appeared to have reached a decision.

“Yuhua.” The Patriarch exhaled deeply. “Send Magus Xie's apprentice, his parents, and his siblings to the Front. I want them gone by tonight. Inform Colonel Zheng. If they fail to present themselves on the Xi-An Front within the week, put out a desertion bounty, double the reward. From this moment forth, the House of Xie is expelled from Nantong!”

“Yes, Father!” Yuhua left immediately to execute her father's will.

Shen moved behind his oversized table, finally taking a seat.

“So.” The Patriarch appeared to have brushed the chip from his shoulder. “What manner of a reward do you desire? CCs? HDMs? Land? Perhaps, knowing your ambition, people? Would ten-thousand NoMs migrating to a demesne of your preference suffice? Perhaps a Mage of your own, sworn to your service?”

An excited murmur broke out between Gwen’s companions.

“Nothing of the sort,” Gwen interjected.

Richard and company fell deathly silent.

Gwen quickly gave her companions a reassuring nod.

“What I want, Sir…” Gwen appeared more imposing than even when she emerged holding Lihong. “Is a FAVOUR."


“You don’t think you’re asking too much?” Shen's voice lost a measure of good humour. “Are you familiar with the Chinese idiom about the python that choked, trying to swallow an elephant?”

Gwen weathered the Patriarch's intimidation like a robust warratah, unyielding against the wind.

“Nothing of the sort, Sir. I call my request a 'favour', but in truth, my actions can only serve to benefit yourself, Nantong, and your Clan. There are no winners or losers here, only mutual benefit.”

The two locked their eyes.
To the gathering, there was no stranger sight than a Secretary in his late forties having a stare-down against a seventeen-year-old girl.

“What is it then?” Shen's knitted brows formed a deep chasm across his forehead.

“I would like an hour to make a case to you, Vice Chairman Tu, and President Chen. All you have to do is listen to a proposal, after which the favour is repaid.”

The Patriarch Shen raised a bushy brow.

“A curious gambit, Gwen Song. What makes you feel so confident? Are you so compelling that the three of us, who hold between us seven million lives between the South China Sea and Shanghai, would be compelled to act by a girl-child?”

Gwen dipped her head, maintaining her gaze.

“Then you have nothing to lose other than sixty minutes of your time, Sir, perhaps a veneer of 'face' between you and your colleagues. If anything, I would be squandering my grandfather's reputation.”

“Not to mention your Uncle, the War Hero.” Shen's expression softened.

“Yessir.” Gwen grinned. “In the _un_ -likely event that I embarrass myself.”

The Patriarch of the Nantong Fungs rapped the table, drumming away with his fingernails. Gwen remained standing, still as a statue while her party held their breath, unsure of what to make of Gwen's grandiose gesture. What they did know was to trust that Gwen knew what she was negotiating, as she had demonstrated many times before.

After a minute, Shen spoke.

“If nothing else, lass, you have distracted me from the incident involving Lihong,” the gruff Patriarch confessed candidly. “Very well. I shall ask the other two to attend our banquet tonight. After which you have- half an hour.”

“That’s more than enough, Sir.” Gwen had an expression like the fox who just took the hen house. In all honesty, she had expected the Patriarch to make life far more difficult.

Shen caught Gwen’s rapscallion demeanour, realised he had underestimated the girl, then began to laugh.

“Go and clean yourselves up." Shen measured the Song girl against his scions and found them wanting. "You and your friend can take the guest penthouse on level 27. There will be servants there to help you. If you need anything - tell the staff. The banquet will start at 7 PM. I'll send for you when the others arrive.”

Watching Gwen curtsy comically in her combat-suit and a mismatched parka, Shen disappointingly thought of his son, Dai. In recent years, the young man had become spoiled by their success. His other children were no better. His second son, Kei, couldn't duel his way out of a mob of NoMs. Yuhua wasn't bad, though she lacked a keen mind.

He studied Gwen as her party retreated, observing their deference to her.

The girl was a Gweilo, but Shen wasn't an old guard. In the future, Dai needed a firm hand to guide him, especially in the instance of Nantong becoming an international trading port. A spouse with a war hero uncle, a Neutral Faction grandfather, as well as the beauty and ability to match the growing power of Nantong, could very well be the support the Fungs needed.

“So, what are you going to suggest?” Petra was all ears as the girls changed. The VIP suite was enormous; the main bathroom was the size of Gwen and Petra’s apartment. Presently, Gwen was having a good soak in the bubble bath while Petra dried her hair, wrapped in a towel.

“What about this one?!” Lulan ducked through the door with a pink dress that made her look like a sausage sock puppet.

“Horrendous!” Gwen shook her head. “Lulu, you’re the petite type, go for cocktail dresses, something dark, A-line, short sleeves, just above the knee and high-waisted."

“I don't know what that means!” Lulan tugged at the tube-dress, disappearing through the door in a flurry of frustration. “I need a Translation Ioun Stone!”

“Pats, have you decided?”

“No skirts.” Petra eyed the wardrobe Gwen had provided for her, laid out on the bed. “Your dresses are all so… flimsy.”

"Well then, I’ve got a suit that’s just your style,” Gwen assured her cousin. “I’ll help you in a bit.”

She slinked from the bath, soapy and slick with foam. A quick shower cleansed away the milky-suds, followed by a hasty robe.

“THIS ONE?” Lulan appeared once again, this time with an embroidered off-shoulder dress tapered at the waist and flared just above the knees.

“Wonderful.” Gwen gave Lulan the A-O.K with her fingers. “Wait in the living room; I’ll do your eyes and hair.”

“Ooo.” Lulan skipped away, feeling furiously feminine. She went to show Kusu, who was with the boys taking up another section of the floor-wide suite.

“As I was saying…” Petra was thankful that finally, Lulan’s interruption had ceased. "What's your plan?"

“It's less a plan, and more a whole system." Gwen carefully made up her eyes. "I am going to present a mutually beneficial offer they cannot refuse regarding Nantong port.”

“The port?” Petra appeared taken aback.

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s a state project, why should they listen to you?”

“They might not,” Gwen explained. “Or they could steal my idea. If so, I’ll make it public, tell the world. Publish it via Fudan’s network. Tell Gunther to sell it to the Commonwealth. Trade it for CCs. _but_ , if we do pull this off, it'll solve all their capital shortage for the next decade, longer if they manage fiscal responsibility.”

“Why the favour then?”

“One - to arrange a meeting. Two - to get Shen on my side. Three - to impose on them that none of this will happen without my guidance.”

“I am still not fully understanding any of this.” Petra shook her head. She was a brilliant spellcraft theorist, but Gwen’s half-baked explanation was driving her in circles.

“It’s a little complicated.” Gwen scratched her chin. “Not to be cocky, Pats, explaining it might confuse you even more.”

“Try me.”

“Alright…”

Gwen briefly explained the notion of flowing capital. Using short-term continuous deposits made by freight moving through Nantong to establish a stock-backed Sinking Fund. The fund can then be utilised on behalf of expanding the port, training staff, repairing ships, and offering short-term loans for misadventure. With future revenue, the fund would grow exponentially, assuming good governance was observed, and that her ‘partners’ didn’t cook their golden goose for greed.

"... and that's what I call 'Venture Capitalism'."

“St Peter… I need an Ioun Stone Translation as well.” Petra fought back the throbbing in her temple. “Your idea sounds like some ancient, forbidden magic for turning lead to gold! How do you know all this?”

"Well Pats," Gwen replied seriously. "You know how we're born with the ability to tap into Elemental Planes?"

Petra nodded.

“As it happens.” Gwen grinned. "I am born tapping into the Material-Plane of Currency."

"Gwen!"

"Hahaha." Gwen dodged Petra's scowl. Retreating to the bed, she picked out a gleaming white ankle-length pants-suit with a matching jacket - in silk. “Here, put this one on. And those white heels.”

“Saint Peter! You could kill somebody with those. And that jacket-”

“Then try not to step on any toes.” Gwen stepped back and observed her work. “Wonderful, take a seat while I’ll do your face. You can't unbutton that, by the way.”

"I don't know..."

“Do me! Do me!” Lulan returned. “I want the thing that makes your eyelashes thicker.”

“Alright.” Gwen laughed. “Kusu is going to lose his mind.”

The party emerged from the levitation platform.

The banquet took place in the grand ballroom on level 3, attended by most of the influential folk in the Fung building, as well as some of the local movers and shakers. Poor Lihong was expectedly nowhere to be seen, nor was her father, though Yuhua was there, and so was Dai.

Gwen descended the stairs, covered from neck to ankle in a sheer, skin-tight silk dress in brilliant white, hand-printed with floral accents. She wore her hair in a messy bun, causing casual strands to fall elegantly about her face, accentuating her smokey eyes. As she flowed down the semi-circular stairs, a slit in her otherwise modest dress flashed her lithe legs, then hid them with every second step.

Escorting Gwen was Petra, wearing an antique-white pant-suit likewise in silk. In contrast to Gwen's bun, Petra wore her hair loose, falling over her broad shoulders like a waterfall. Her husky-blue eyes, made more prominent by thickened lashes and her thick, ambitious lips, held the room hostage.

Behind the two, like an adopted little sister, Lulan walked with teeth-jittering care on her kitten heels, taking every step as if her first.

The boys, in contrast, lacking Gwen’s guidance, looked like the waitstaff. Richard had on a maroon vest and striped charcoal pants paired with brown Oxfords. Percy wore a borrowed tuxedo, while Kusu paired a mismatched pair of dark pants and dark blazer with a black bowtie, looking like a disgruntled valet.

“I should have just stuck with the tuxedo…” Kusu moaned, too embarrassed to follow the girls too closely.

“You looked like a funeral director!” Richard snorted. “Don't worry about it, mate, let the girls shine. We're just background characters. Besides, check that out-”

The boys followed Richard’s gaze over to a group of local girls wearing what could only be described as nouveau-riche couture, exposing more skin than cloth. Just beyond the smiling girls was a buffet table full of Wildland goodies.

“I see.” Kusu rubbed his hands. He couldn’t afford such fare back home in Shanghai.

“Oh… they have South Sea Lobster.” Percy salivated. As a growing boy, he couldn’t say no to food.

“Lea, keep an eye on Gwen. I’ll be… preoccupied,” Richard informed his Familiar, likewise gravitating toward the free food.

Lea drifted lazily across the six-meter ceiling, invisibly coiling around a set of priceless chandeliers.

Below Richard’s watchful guardian, Gwen entered the fray, becoming surrounded by young men who desired to know more about the hazel-eyed beauty from Shanghai.

Petra meanwhile, became inundated by young women, wishing to know more about the pant-wearing beauty. Simply put, Petra was the sveltest human being they had ever beheld.

“GWEN!” Dai’s voice called out. As a testament to the young man’s influence, a path opened almost instantly.

The two shook.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again.” Dai’s voice quivered with genuine emotion. “I’ve been thinking of you since that last time we parted on a sour note. Allow me to apologise again for any offence.”

Gwen caught the stickybeaking women giving her daggers.

“I've learned to think of it fondly.” Gwen leaned in, then brushed Dai across the cheek with her lips, giving him as much ‘face’ as she could muster without feeling excessively disgusted with herself. “I’ve been thinking of you as well. “

“You have?” Dai touched a hand to his face. “I am honoured.”

“It's true. Whenever I think of you, I can't help but think of the favour you owe me. It plagues my sleep.” Gwen grinned mischievously.

“Ha!” Dai snorted. “Of course, I dream of fulfilling it. It’s affecting my sleep as well. I think about our... exchange, day and night.”

“Losing sleep? Hardly. You look well.” Gwen backed away, sensing that at least half of Dai's words were no longer attempts at playful humour. "How's life?"

The young man looked less contrived than Gwen recalled. Attired in a cream tailored suit with a dark vest, Dai appeared significantly less douche-like and far more agreeable.

“Still single,” Dai stated a little too quickly, brushing off death-stares from those around him. “Introduce me to your friends?”

“Petra, this is Dai. Dai, this is Petra, my cousin and one of my best and closest companions.”

Petra beamed at Gwen's announcement, her ruby lips parting to reveal pearly teeth.

Petra's audience gave an audible moan.

The young Russian woman was taller than even Gwen, making her one of the tallest people in the room, not to mention she was outfitted with four-inch peep-toe stilettos. With her bold and uncommonly handsome facial features typical of the Eastern European beauties, her ‘couture’ factor was off the charts.

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“Hello,” Petra replied in that husky voice of hers, cool as anything.

“And this is…”

Gwen gestured, only to find that their petite companion was gone.

Kusu was on his second plate when he noticed his sister holding a pheasant drumstick by the foiled knob, gnawing away beside the buffet table.

“Lulu!” He hissed, quickly approaching her. “Don’t just eat it beside the tray! Take some, go to a corner, eat it out of sight, then come back for more!”

Lulan scooped a drink from a startled waiter.

“Put that down, that’s alcohol. Don’t make trouble for Gwen.”

Lulan knocked back half a flute regardless.

“Eww.” She spat half a mouthful back in, then placed the glass next to the condiments. "Mao, its white vinegar."

The traumatised waiter stared at Lulan until Richard intervened.

“Ah~, let her have her fun.” Richard joined them. “She needs to learn how to mingle. Just look at Percy.”

Percy was busy chatting up a group of younger girls who all wanted to know more about his sister and her pants-wearing companion. Gwen's brother appeared entirely in his element, chattering away without so much as pausing for breath, eliciting bell-like laughter from his rapt audience.

“Not keen?” Richard observed. "More than likely someone would be happy to warm your penthouse bed."

“Not at all,” Kusu kept glancing at Lulan.

“K-dog," Richard borrowed some of Tao's endearing vernacular. "The forbidden fruit is tempting, but it’ll only bring grief.”

“What?” Kusu was watching the interaction between a middle-aged man and Lulan.

“Where are you from? You look kind of familiar.” A Clanner in his forties was accosting Lulan. From the look of his scarlet mien, it was probably the wine talking. “Do you like the food here?”

“Delicious.” Lulan nodded, chewing away on her drumstick.

“Want to come with Uncle?” the man asked delightfully. “There’s even better food on the other table.”

“There’s another table?!” Lulan blinked.

"It's a dessert table," the man assured her.

“HEY!” Kusu’s voice came from behind.

The Clanner turned to behold a waiter dual-wielding a crab claw in either hand, one of had a chunk missing. Studying Kusu's face, something clicked within the man’s mind.

“Hey, aren't you two the siblings kicked out by Huashan?” The man chuckled, struggling to fight back the alcohol. “Ha, you’re moonlighting as a waiter now?”

“What? No!” Kusu lowered the claws. “We're guests!”

The man gave him a look of pity.

“Look, we’re all Clanners here. A bad turn could happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone say that Meng of Kunlun bullied a waiter from Huashan just because his chips are down."

"Good Man." Richard gave the guy a thumbs up.

Nodding, the Clanner turned to Lulan.

“Eat up, lass.” He leered at her nubile body. “You won’t eat like this again for a while. Don’t worry; Uncle will keep your thieving a secret, eh? Just between you and me. If ever you need some cultivation resources…”

“Get out of here!” Kusu growled.

The man laughed out loud before snatching up an abandoned flute of wine left by the condiments to wandering away unsteadily.

Richard observed the whole thing with captive interest.

“What?” Kusu angrily bit into a Nordic crab claw.

“It’s alright, K.” Richard patted him on the shoulder. “So long as you stick with Gwen and I. We’ll do ya right.”

“They’re waiting for you inside.” Wang stopped outside the adjacent smoking room waiting for Gwen. The old Magus then turned to the Fung heir. “Master Dai, you are to remain here.”

“I am?” Dai had been surprised when Wang came to spirit Gwen away. He was now doubly surprised that it was his father who was interested in Gwen. The old man wasn't thinking of having a young mistress, was he? His mother was no pushover. If his parents had a falling out, they might need to rebuild the Fung Group sky tower. “I mean, as he wishes.”

Wang acknowledged his young master's piety.

“Miss Song should rejoin you after thirty minutes, I would imagine.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Gwen turned on her heels. “Petra, can you keep me company? I imagine I could use some of your crystals in my demonstration. Master Wang, is that acceptable?”

“Of course, Miss Song.”

The door opened just enough for the two girls to pass. Leaving Dai standing outside scratching his head.

The young master watched his smiling teacher, Magus Wang, close the door behind them. He was now alone, consciously so. He had spent the better part of the evening entertaining Gwen and her friend to the neglect of his usual social circles.

“Feeling lonely?”

Dai turned to see the tall Eurasian cousin and Gwen's brother, the grandson of Secretary Guo Song.

“Not any more.” Dai called a waiter over to hydrate the trio while he changed out the flute of wine for a tall neck of Tsingtao. “I still haven’t thanked you for your service to Nantong, not to mention saving my cousin, the poor girl.”

“It’s a tragedy.” Richard reached for a fresh bottle. The two clinked. “I hope she recovers.”

“She’s a strong girl,” Dai agreed. “She’ll have the whole Clan behind her.”

“That’s good to know.”

“How about you, young master Song, are you enjoying the evening?”

“I am, thank you, Master Fung.”

“Call me Dai, please.”

“Elder Brother Dai.”

“Brother Percy," Dai replied, then snorted to himself.

Percy appeared confused by Dai’s quip.

“A potential suitor for our princess.” Richard raised a toast to Dai. “One of many Jasons come in pursuit of her, haha.”

Dai paled.

“She has many lovers?”

Richard took a casual swig.

“You don’t think she would?”

“Well, of course, someone of her calibre. I mean… how many are we talking here?”

Richard chuckled, evidently enjoying Dai’s growing displeasure.

“It’s an expression,” Percy hurriedly interjected. “Jason was the leader of the Argonauts?”

“A Clan of the Western world?”

“No, no…” Percy struggled with the context. “It’s a myth, you know, Jason the hero, chasing after a golden treasure to woe Creusa, the daughter of King Corinth?”

“So, its an expression of speech?” Dai regarded Richard accusingly.

“She’s never had a boyfriend,” Percy stated with absolute confidence.

Dai glanced at Richard, who grinned at him.

“Why don't you ask her yourself?” Richard implored.

“Not a single one?” Dai turned to Percy.

“None.” Percy crossed his fingers behind him.

Dai took a liberal swig of his beer.

“Thanks, little brother.” He smiled at Percy far too happy. “If there’s anything you need in Shanghai, just let Big Brother Dai know, eh?”

“Petra, if you would?” Gwen’s voice echoed across the conference room.

The tea had long since cooled as her captive audience listened with mouths half open.

Petra had constructed a ‘model’ of Gwen’s proposal.

“Let me explain again so that we’re on the same page.”

“Please!” Vice Chairman Tu reiterated.

“Yes, once more. I too am lacking in comprehension.” Magister Quin was likewise eager to have the proposal clarified.

The girl had drawn a pie in the sky that was impossible to ignore but also unlikely to exist. Nonetheless, it was right there in front of them, clear as the crystalline display.

“I am happy to clarify.” Gwen exhibited a dazzling smile sweet enough to give the old men tooth decay.

“As I was saying - your port is run at a loss. The administration - that's you gentlemen - fears that having costs subsidised by fees would make the venture unattractive for overseas shipping. To remain competitive, the port loses money every year to the tune of just under a million HDMs, made even via trade surplus. _Yours_ is an unsustainable model - think, how long could you run the place until it collapses under the burden of its weight? The more successful Nantong’s Tonglv Canal becomes, the more crystals it burns. The only advantage the CCP currently possesses is the fact that labour is cheap and China has massive internal consumption - but that won’t help increase the efficiency of the port, which desperately needs more transport Golems and freight staff, not to mention skilled Administrators to manage tax and accounts.”

“ _As such_ \- Petra, can you empty the pie-chart? Thank you.”

Gwen skirted around a circular tank constructed from Petra's crystalline mineral.

“I propose abolishing the Port Fee altogether. Instead, we implement a new system utilising a mandatory _deposit_ , plus a flat, marginal administrative fee.”

“I still don’t follow how getting rid of the docking fees would make the port currency.” Magister Chen folded his fingers.

“It’s the _deposit_ ,” Patriarch Fung added helpfully. He was surprised himself at how quickly he understood Gwen’s ingenious proposal. The girl had a mind sharper than a void-tinged sword and as twisted as a Goblin warren.

“Indeed, the _deposit_ is key. What we will do…” Gwen allowed Almudj’s Essence to circulate. “…is to create a Venture Fund using an Assurance system. When a ship arrives, it needs to 'deposit' with Natong’s Port Authority _10%_ of its manifest in crystals, stock, or promissory certificate, kept safe as a _bond_."

The men nodded.

“Vice Chair Tu, what is the average turn around for a freight ship?”

“Three weeks for short haul, up to six for a long haul. Varies pending on crew numbers as well, as well as country of origin. Danish ships have the fastest turnaround, followed by the Americans and the Singaporeans and so on. Some ships stay for as long as three months if there are complications.

“Indeed, now. Here’s the clincher. If a ship is capable of completing its transit without incident - _and_ if declared manifest and deposit pass scrutiny, then the ship receives a 100% refund on its bond. If a ship falsely reports on volume, displacement, and or freight, then a penalty is extracted from the bond. If there is contraband, they will lose their deposit pending appeal. In the case of piracy or smuggling, the entire cargo is forfeit anyway, and we can seize the ship."

The men continued nodding.

“This way, there is a great incentive for freight carriers to perform their tasks as quickly as possible and as lawfully as possible because in-effect, the port will service them for _free_ , barring, of course, a negligible admin-fee, and customs.”

“Then how are we making crystals?” Vice Chairman Tu furrowed his brows. “They’re getting serviced for free!”

“Petra?”

Petra grew crystals into the ‘pie-chart’.

“This is the deposit in our venture fund - it comes from the ships using Tonglv Canal.”

They watched as the 'chart' filled with blue and pink crystals.

"If you would notice, the blue crystals are time sensitive. The pink crystals are long term.”

"The blue crystals will disappear after thirty seconds. The Pink, sixty. Using the information provided by Vice Chair Tu, I am splitting the ratio sixty to forty."

As the earlier injected crystals began to disappear, new ones replaced them.

“What do you see?”

"The crystals are ever-present, the volume is persistent so long as the shipping doesn't cease."

"Yes. Petra, can you increase the overall volume?"

The 'pie' on the table grew to double its size.

"Growth of Nantong, as you can see, does not impact the flow rate, only the volume."

A look of understanding began to spread on the faces of Vice Chairman Tu and Magister Chen.

“So you’re saying, as long as there’s this 10 per cent deposit in our coffers at all times, it is as though the crystals are ours to spend? Due to the Sink Fund's possession of these circulating 'deposits'?"

“Under careful management, of course,” Gwen reiterated. “The Sink fund's capital flow cannot fall below a certain threshold. Petra, if you please.”

Half of the container emptied. The trio noted that the state of decay remained constant and that still, a portion the 'funds' existed perpetually.

"The model is sound as long as the amount paid out each day is sustainably supplied by the income."

Gwen then moved to the opposite end of the table.

“For now, I am going to assume that we are in possession of 50% of the Sink Fund, which Patriarch Fung estimates to be…”

“1.4 Million HDMs…”

“Thank you. Patriarch. You are very helpful.”

Against all the odds, the patronised Shen felt rather good about himself. He was the first to grasp Gwen’s idea, and he was the first to understand her scheme.

“Now, we establish a second Fund: The Nantong Port Authority Venture Fund. The Fund will service the Port Authority directly. I'll stick with 50% of the Sink Fund."

Gwen portioned the '50%' slice, separating a sliver of about 10%.

“This is our initial cut. 3% to each of you, and 1% for me - this will be our administration strata, levied against the fund.”

The three men regarded one another carefully.

Gwen felt they needed another push.

"Let's not have a misunderstanding," she explained. "What I am proposing isn't something as corrupt as skimming crystals from a government project. We have to _earn_ our keep. Petra, can you make me three rectangles, three sizes, please?"

Petra performed her duties without complaint.

"This largest block-" Gwen raised the brick. "Is the Venture Fund, the 40%. Think of it as our Investors' assets. We BORROW currency from this fund to invest."

She took a marker and drew a line between the large block and a smaller one.

"This is our Venture Firm. We will direct what investments the fund will make. Our initial income is the 10% consultancy levied on the fund. New levies will apply pending performance."

Gwen then laid her hand on the smallest block.

"This is a portfolio under the Venture Fund, owned by the fund, but invested by us. This one is called Warehouse. Petra, can I get a few more of those? Thanks."

Gwen drew a line between the 'Fund' block and the smallest one, labelling it 'Warehouse'.

"This one is Freight."
"This one is Machinery."
"This one is Real Estate."
"This one is Staff and Training."
"This one is for Rest and Relaxation."
"This one..."

Soon, the structure was evident for all to see.

"Let's me explain how each of these portfolios will generate wealth for the venture."

“Take real estate for example: once built, a warehouse can be rented out to increase the revenue of the port itself. Shipping companies are always in need of storage. What’s the rental on a 100 twenty-foot equivalent unit Warehouse?”

“About 10 HDMs a month in Singapore.” Vice Chair Tu answered.

“How many is Nantong hoping to build in its 2004 Expansion?”

“About 500.”

“That’s 5,000 HDMs per month of income, less cost of operation. What's preventing the expansion from happening?"

"Tied up funding from the Central Bank?" Magister Chen made an 'O' with his lips. "I see!"

Gwen picked up another block.

"This portfolio, we can execute very quickly. How much are Golem rentals?”

“25 HDMs for standard cargo-mover unit per 5-day cycle, excluding pilot, excluding fuel.”

"How are we for pilots?

"There are more pilots than Golems in Nantong..."

“Cost of machinery?”

“About 1750 HDMs for a Mitsubishi unit.”

“In 350 days or 70 cycles, the Golems would have paid for themselves. Not to mention if they wish to hire our pilots, that’s an additional charge. Give it a three-year cycle, and we’ll refresh our fleet - yes Gentlemen - Nantong's _fleet_ of Construction and Freight Golems! _Sell the old loaders or trade them in!_ Again, the operation is scalable!”

The men were nodding so much they were beginning to resemble chooks bobbing for feed.

“And that’s stage 1! Stage 2!” Gwen continued, picking up more crystal slabs. “Nantong is a port city, but the city itself is closed off to our overseas visitors, all lonely seamen with currency to spend. Stage 2 will be the construction of a _free economic zone_ within the port itself! Souvenirs, hotels, restaurants, bars! Whatever those sailors are earning, they should leave at least 30% of their pay packet in Nantong! The employment this could provide for the local NoMs would also greatly reduce strain on the Governor's coffers.”

Looking at Gwen, the men thought a specific something that would most definitely strip the sailors of their hard earned pay packet. Assuming upstairs was willing, perhaps Stage Two would proceed even faster than Stage One.

“ _And all of this!_ ” Gwen pointed to the model. " _Is scalable!_ Think of it, gentlemen, what is the best course of action for any freight travelling through Nantong toward Shanghai? To report manifest _honestly_ and abide by our laws _legally_. They will suffer _no charge_ at the end of the day, who wouldn’t want that? Furthermore, once our shipyards begin operation, the port will repair and service their ships at a rate just below our competitors. We will be able to use the Sink Fund to subsidise our labourers better than any other port in China. If freight-carriers want to employ a _port_ that doesn’t impact their bottom line, all they need is provide _ten per cent_ of their honestly reported manifest! At the ends of which they get back in _full_. Who wouldn't want that?”

“Now, in addition to reduced operating expense from encouraging best practice...” Gwen told Petra to grow a mass of _green_ crystals. "We have the gains from our portfolios, owned by the Venture Fund."

Gwen added the green crystals to the fund.

"Time passes. Expansion continues. After Stage 1-"

More and more green crystals piled onto the fund.

"It gets fed back into the Venture Fund."

The fund that had consisted of pink and blue crystals now possessed more and more greens even as it continued to expand.

"As the Port grows, so does the Fund, the more traffic we service, the larger our liquid capital. The more capital we have to provide extra services, the more customers the port attracts! Furthermore, the withdraw ratio from the Sink Fund can be increased, so long as currency outgoing matches incoming shipping plus portfolio income.”

Gwen then apportioned green crystals in front of each of her audience members, as well as a tiny sliver for herself.

"If you wish to play it safe, our fees can be extracted from the proceeds, rather than the fund itself."

Magister Chen touched a hand to his face.

“Wocao, I am sweating!” the old Mage laughed. “By Mao, you’ve made this old man sweat!”

“I am in awe.” Vice-Chairman Tu wiped a trail of drool from his lips.

“Well done, Gwen.” Patriarch Fung felt as though he’d sat through an hour-long sauna. “Mao! Look at the time!”

The men stared at the clock.
Thirty minutes had turned into two-and-a-half hours.

“The inner workings of our economic model has to be kept confidential,” Gwen warned them. “Our competitors will learn of it eventually, but by then, we would have stolen their customers and locked in our clients with loyalty service and membership discounts.”

“A close-system ecology?” Patriarch Fung recalled Gwen boasting about such a thing in the first hour.

“A closed-loop ecosystem,” Gwen corrected the Patriarch. “Well done, Sir.”

“Hahaha!” Patriarch Shen gloated.

“Well, gentlemen?” Vice-Chairman Tu turned to his partners.

“I am in!” Magister Chen nodded at Gwen. “I cannot see why we should not proceed.”

“I was ready the moment I called the two of you,” Patriarch Fung told a white-lie, winking at Gwen. “Guangshao?”

“I am happy to be a part of this venture.” Guangshao Tu was already imagining the accolades he would receive after five years, when Nantong becomes the ‘new miracle’ of southern China, completely demolishing all expectations set by the upper echelon. That the operating expense of the Port may even turn a profit would blow the minds of the old men sitting atop the Party’s thrones. There was also the three per cent 'bonus'. In a few years, his family would be swimming in Crystals to the tune of hundreds of thousands of HDMs a year. If nothing else, it would pave the way for his eventual chairmanship among the twelve Vice General-Secretaries of the CCP, an enormously expensive endeavour.

Patriarch Fung meanwhile, was dreaming of a day when he could finally stand toe to toe with Wang Enterprises as one of Shanghai’s the Big Ten. Knowing that Gwen was related to the Patriarch of the Wang Group furthermore eased his mind, knowing that Gwen wouldn’t want a conflict of interest to impact her 1 per cent stake.

Lastly, Magister Chen, who had been brought on as a technical consultant on international trade and to serve as the CCP’s inside man on the matter, could only think about the absurd volume of resources he would soon access to continue his research. Perhaps in time, he could donate to Jianqiao and finally get that damn west wing of the library completed. ‘The Chen Quin West Wing’ the plaque would read, and his portrait would benevolently look down on students as they entered the hall.

In front of the smiling men, Petra dispelled her crystal display, sensing the greed radiating from the men like an odour. Astronomical numbers had been tossed back and forth between Gwen and the men as though they meant nothing at all.

She glanced at Gwen, unsure of what to make of her cousin.

What would they call her now?
Gwen Song of the Money Tree?


The men each extended a hand.

“For our mutual benefit, I shall abide by our agreement and keep our methods confidential,” Gwen began, shaking Patriarch Fung’s hand. The man suppressed a wince when his rough palms enveloped Gwen’s own, her delicate white fingers gripping his old bones like steel rods.

“Well said,” the Patriarch concurred.

“As will I.” The aspiring Chairman Tu shook Gwen's hand, then Shen's as well, paling at the firmness of Gwen’s dainty fingers.

“I will abide by our accord.” Magister Chen shook Gwen’s hand, then shook out his fingers. “My word, you have a firm grip.”

“Sorry,” Gwen apologised, giving the men an unnervingly coy look. "It's the excitement, you understand.”

“As anyone's would. Gwen, what are your immediate plans?” Shen enquired. It had been some time since he had felt so stirred, and to think they were safe in a building and not holding the fort against a screeching horde of Beastmen!

“I’ll be going back to Shanghai,” Gwen informed them. “I’ve got to train for the IIUC. Perhaps leave a liaison with me so that I can continue to refine our venture. The devil, as they say, is in the micromanagement. A workspace where we can discuss matters in private would be ideal.”

“I’ll send Dai with you. The rascal could stand to learn a few things.” Fung snorted. “All he does is socialise all day. It would make me very happy if you could straighten him out.”

“I'd appreciate that, Patriarch.” When Gwen bestowed no particular prejudice against Shen's blatant ploy, their other partners took this to imply the Patriarch's infamous son had no effect on her what so ever.

“I’ll send someone from my office as well.” Vice-Chairman Tu pinched his double-jowls. “I have a young protege who could benefit from broadening his horizons.”

“No need for intermediaries, you may contact me directly.” Magister Chen was going all out. Of the three men, he possessed the least wealth, though he enjoyed greater seniority when it came to the trust of the CCP. “Here’s my Glyph. Anytime, Gwen.”

“An old goat grazing on tender grass. Eh, Quin?” Patriarch Shen burst into a snorting chortle.

“Hahaha!” the Magister shot Shen a look of disdain. “Gwen's far too talented for the likes of me! You're a braver man than I am, sending out your heir as bait. Be careful little-Dai doesn't get eaten!”

Shen ignored Chen's rebuttal. Instead, he sent off a Message.

“Dai! Get in here!”

It took all but ten seconds for the door to open, revealing Richard, Percy and Dai. Richard looked his usual composed self. Beside him, Gwen’s brother and the Fung heir had a hint of colour to their faces from being caught red-handed listening at the door. The banquet was long over by now, and the three had been killing time by translating snippets of conversation drifting through the gaps. Candidly, the guards' convenient ignorance had also been a part of the Patriarch's intent.

“Sorry for the wait,” Gwen apologised. "Did you have a good meal? Where's Lulu and Kusu?"

Dai floundered into the room, circulating mana to keep his head clear and his face pale as to appear entirely sober.

“Father. Uncle Tu. Uncle Chen.”

“Dai,” the Patriarch addressed his son. “You are to stay with Gwen in Shanghai.”

“It'll be my pleasure.” Dai glanced at Gwen, grinning broadly. “I’ll be in your care, Gwen.”

“Same here, Dai.” Gwen smiled back, realising the young man had gotten the wrong idea entirely.

“Ahem!” The Patriarch cleared his throat when Tu and Chen both took on taunting expressions. “Gwen is very precious to me, your Uncle Tu, and your Uncle Chen. You’re to make sure she’s perfectly safe while in Shanghai.”

Dai caught the mockery in Gwen's youthful eyes, juxtaposed against his father’s awkward attempt at preserving his face.

“Yessir!” Dai bowed. “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

“Anything happens to her,” Patriarch Fung grumbled. “Bring your head back on an iron platter.”

“It’s a silver platter, Sir,” Gwen corrected the Patriarch politely.

“I stand corrected.” Patriarch Fung gave Gwen a curt nod. “Teach him well; he is my heir, after all.”

Whatever alcohol that had inundated Dai's bloodstream was now perspiring through his pores. What in the Great Leader's name had just happened? Why was his father showing Gwen such deference? Why did it feel like he'd been sold? Looking at Gwen in her flawless white dress with its floral accents, he noticed for the first time just how imposing she was, how she appeared larger than life. And to correct his father? Dai couldn't recall the last time his father confessed to being 'corrected'.

“Gwen, when do you leave?” Dai enquired of Gwen, taking over his father's mantle. “Let us show our hospitality for a few days.”

“I am afraid I have to train.” Gwen shook her head respectfully. “The selection for the IIUC is getting close.”

“I’ll put in a good word,” Shen stated firmly. He then rose from his seat to face his son. “Dai, regarding Gwen - respect her wishes.”

That was the second time Shen Fung had made it very clear to his son that Gwen was beyond reproach. Though dismally confused, Dai knew better than to challenge his father’s decree. Briefly, he could see the other two chuckling to themselves. Was that it? Was the joke that she was too good for him and that he's the bunch-back toad trying to mount the elegant swan? He, the most eligible bachelor he knew, a wishful troglodyte?

For now, the young man swallowed his wounded pride. He turned toward Gwen, then deeply bowed, as if she were the senior.

“I’ll be in your care, Miss Song!”

“Just Gwen, Dai. We’re friends, are we not?”

Dai looked to his father for affirmation. Shen’s brows knitted, forming a barely perceptible wrinkle of frustration his forehead.

“Of course, Gwen.”

“Good lad,” Magister Chen affirmed happily. “Gwen, I am tempted to send you my apprentice as well, but that would be a conflict of interest. He's a part of the Jianqiao IIUC team. If the two of you do meet, please be gentle. His name is Lianchen Yen; he also goes by Lachlan.”

“I’ll be sure to greet my Senior,” Gwen promised. She then playfully made a mock-swooning motion. “Now, if you don’t mind, I am famished.”

“I’ll have the kitchen prepare something." Dai immediately retreated from the room. He needed time to reevaluate.

As he passed Richard, the young man struck out a hand.

“Welcome to the team, mate.” Richard grinned.

As they shook, Dai wondered what Richard meant by his lopsided grin. He then extended a hand to Percy, who answered with a shake and a bow, as proper from a junior to a senior.

Beside the two, Richard chuckled. For some reason, he was reminded of Gwen's Draconic-Deerhounds. Another dog added to her pack? How many strays would Gwen assemble before she was satisfied?

"She has too many secrets we're not privy to. Be very cautious, Dai. Chen's right in that she might just eat you alive."

"She's just a girl." Dai worked up a retort. Once Gwen and her party were sent to their suite, Shen gathered his two children to confer upon them the dangers of being besotted by outward appearances.

"That doesn't mean much coming from you. Mao, the information you gathered is completely out of date, or wrong to begin with," Yuhua joined the conversation. "I was there, Dai. The girl's Lightning Beast is the closest thing to a Kirin I have ever seen. Her Void Worm as well is far more potent than you give her credit for."

"My information is three months old!" Dai sulked. The first thing Yuhua did was to check with their Master of Records, only to find that Dai's collated information on the girl was leagues away from what she had observed in the dungeon.

"Her hounds were Draconic, Dai." Yuhua illustrated her point by swimming a hand through the air. Shen had made Yuhua give a detailed account of the Water Monkey Dungeon. "That Kirin commands them via some sort of telepathy as well. Meaning its a Spirit, and a Draconic one at that."

"Dai." Shen stood over his heir. "Without venturing into the Ruìshī's lair, one will never acquire a Ruìshī cub. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father." Dai's outward appearance as the dutiful son betrayed his seething sense of shame. In truth, he struggled to reconcile Gwen's striking face and her long, lithe limbs with the terrifying story told by his sister. He had known Gwen since her arrival in Shanghai; he knew she was prideful - all Lightning Mages were prideful, but for him to be subordinate to the girl?

"You must not provoke her." Shen stood with his back toward his son, his mandarin jacket an oxymoronic mask of the man's lofty ambition. "From Yuhua's story, we know that she is a sentimentalist. Touch her with your generosity. If not for herself, then for her brother, her friends, her family. Do you understand, Dai?"

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Yes, Father." Dai bowed deeply. His father's words were sending shivers down his spine.

The most difficult debt to repay, after all, was the debt of generosity.

“Dai? Dai!” Gwen politely nudged their newest companion.

“I am listening,” Dai lied, doing his best to keep still.

Once the meeting was over, Gwen and her party had retreated to their penthouse suite to rest up for the night. After Dai personally brought up her late supper, Gwen chose to induct Dai into their little circle.

The other's didn't much like Dai, but she saw in the man a valuable asset.

Though the Patriarch's intent was self-evident - Dai was nonetheless a useful body to place in the way of potential trouble. The silver-spooned jackaroo was, in Gwen’s eyes, a triple threat: he was a Wealth-cum-Power Progeny rolled into one, and a bonafide Clanner. Clothed via his family connections, Dai was a human-shaped skeleton key for Shanghai’s high society. Furthermore, so long as Gwen and Shen’s economic interests aligned, she was confident in Dai’s loyalty.

Of course, that loyalty was itself ephemeral. Gwen did not doubt that when the numbers came in, her partners were bound to regret agreeing to that seemingly innocuous single per cent of the Venture Fund’s revenue.

But Gwen had a plan for that eventuality as well - one that reached fruition after the IIUC; when she could finally declare herself her Master's Apprentice and the sibling-in-craft of Alesia and Gunther. Likewise, Nantong needed at least a year or two to grow into its new-found wealth, if not longer.

Gwen reminded herself that regardless of her venture's success, her material investments were temporary. Ultimately, when she left the country, it was far more likely that the CCP would attempt to usurp her share. Likewise, her deal with the House of M could be a hit or miss. Mayuree was a sweetie, but she was one of many. With that many siblings, it was unlikely she would have much sway if they refused to pay Gwen her due.

Perhaps this was why Mages, in general, had such a disdain for finance, just as her babulya had held so little regard for currency. The accumulation of magical prowess was personal growth, once gained, Spellcraft, like knowledge, directly empowered oneself.

Wealth, on the other hand, could be pilfered, stolen, usurped and squandered. As a lyrical maestro once rhymed, 'mo-money, mo-problems'.

Over on the couch, Dai sat rigid as a sculpture as Ariel and Caliban kept him company. Her Void Fiend was coiling itself beside Shen’s first-born son, sniffing his tapered suit and dribbling grey drool over his tailored pants. Ariel meanwhile, sat on its haunches, molesting Dai’s tie, occasionally poking Dai's face with a prehensile whisker. Caught between a Kirin and an all-devouring nightmare, Dai chose the Path of Petrification.

The reason being was that he had earlier sidled close to Gwen and placed a hand on her lap and another around her shoulders. Though Gwen possessed championship-level patience, her Familiars were far too sensitive to her repressed loathing.

“I've Messaged you the preliminary staff roster.” Gwen tapped a data slate.

The rest of her party had gone to bed or were meditating in the privacy of their rooms. Lulan chose to make full use of the building’s facilities and had gone down for a massage, joined by a paranoid Kusu, fearful that Lulan might K.O. the masseuse.

“Why so many?” Dai glanced over the numbers, baulking at the complexity of the organisational chart spread out like a dyslexic spider web.

“Lawyers, accountants, auditors and managers. We'll need to segregate the Departmental work as well. I suggest your Father takes care of the auditing since he’s the Governor-Secretary of Nantong. Vice Chair Tu can take care of the accounts and day-to-day Administration. Magister Chen should be in charge of the of the Investment Portfolios, with individual managers reporting to him directly.”

“So many divisions and sub-divisions!” Dai spluttered. “Wouldn’t that make running the business even more complicated?”

Oh, you poor lamb, Gwen groaned inwardly.

“Checks and balances,” she instructed her novice companion. “Think about the inner strata of the CCP. You’ve got the MSS, who oversees the Districts. Then you’ve got Internal Service, who oversees its Secretarial departments. On top of that, there’s the CCDI, who oversees the MSS and Internal Security. All separate entities - independent from the Party's members. We’re going to be dealing with A LOT of crystals, Dai. What do you think is going to happen if we leave it to people we ‘trust’?”

“So we shouldn’t trust anyone, not even people from my Clan?”

‘We’, Gwen noted.

“Trust is too strong a word.” She coaxed Ariel into her lap. Dai’s eyes flittered between the white flesh of Gwen’s smooth thighs and the soft fur of her white Kirin. Catching Dai’s desirous ogling, Ariel wiggled its serpentine body, taunting the man with its soft tummy. Amused, Gwen then kissed Ariel's forehead. “Dai, what we’re doing is Venture Capitalism. We’re making crystals from the void. When there’s _that_ much profit - people are bound to go crazy. I would not be surprised at all if our operation became riddled with fiscal parasites.”

“Preposterous!” Dai snarled. “Heads will roll!”

“You can bet on it.” Gwen kneaded the frog of Ariel’s front hooves, waving its paws at Dai. “Don't tempt fate. Or else, by the 2005's financial year, there may not be a Clan Fung left…”

“…” Dai’s expression implied stubborn disbelief.

"People are going to steal from _us,_ Dai," Gwen assured her protegè. "My job is to make it harder. Your job is to make sure they never steal from us again."

“You can trust me,” Dai stated bluntly.

“I know I can. You’re my Second in this matter. First things first though, we need to parcel out future duties. Believe it or not, I won’t be around Shanghai forever. In the meanwhile, I'll be prioritising the IIUC.”

“Why?” Dai was incredulous. “You're going away? You’re standing to make… hundreds of thousands of HDMs! You could buy yourself a position in the Party with my father's help.”

“Not interested,” Gwen refuted Dai's offer. “What if I told you that I possess loftier goals?”

“You mean a Tower? Is that why you're collecting Crystals?”

“Among other ambitions.” Gwen smiled mysteriously. “I am only seventeen, Dai. Think of it as preparing for an uncertain future.”

Dai understood, though only in an abstract sense. For one such as he, becoming a part of the CCP's inner circle during his middle-years was par for the course. It was the reason for his youthful indiscretion. Now was a period of rare freedom: he could party, date beautiful women, go on adventures and act the young master. When the time came, he would be tied down by a political marriage, inherit a position within the Clan, then embroil himself into a life of realpolitik. His was a gilded cage - one he had long convinced himself happy to inhabit.

“Your father has a lot riding on you, Dai,” Gwen illustrated the point by stabbing a finger at his gut. The girl's vivid irises appeared to glow as she delivered her next words. “If you can pull this off -if you are of help to me. If you can hold the fort even after I’ve gone back to Sydney.”

Dai scratched his chin.

Gwen decided to push in another direction.

“Look, because I trust you so much, I'll be honest.” Gwen lowered her pitch. “We don’t need you.”

"What?!"

Dai turned to glare at Gwen menacingly.

"SHAAA!" Caliban snapped the space directly in front of Dai's nose.

"Cali! Be nice!"

"Shaa~."

Dai sat back down.

“ _But_ ,” Gwen continued, amused by the boy and the man jousting for control within Dai’s head. “You know what? I think this is a test from your father. If you can’t even take care of a little business, how can you stand to inherit the Clan of Fung? For how many years does your father have to labour? How old does Patriarch Shen have to be, before he can rest? Wheres your filial piety, Dai? You Clanners fancy yourselves Confucian-scholars, don’t you?”

Dai's face grew tense.

“Don’t take _my_ words for it. I am nobody important,” Gwen assured the young man. “This is _your_ task to fuck up, Dai. I can't imagine how disappointed your father will be when you do.”

“I not going to fail!” Dai snapped. He couldn't believe he had wanted to date the girl. She's terrible! Domineering! Nothing like the soft-spoken southerner girls he preferred. He knew that she was unscrewing his head in ways he couldn’t discern and still he got caught. In a rare moment of passion, the truth escaped his lips. “If you don't want me beside you, just say so!”

Ah~, the glass ego of a spurned child, Gwen subtly rolled her eyes. A kid-dult.

“Prove me wrong.” She met his eyes, leaning closer. "Make this work."

Dai met her head on.

“So, can I trust you?” Her lips moved hypnotically.

“Of course!” Dai fought down baser instincts. Her face was too close, her breath so moist and warm. They weren't alone, but the others were asleep by now. Was she doing this on purpose? It's now or never!

Summoning supernatural courage, he leaned in, hoping that Gwen wouldn’t pull back in time and thus, share a quick kiss to seal the deal.

“Shaa!”

A mouthful of tasteless grey goo greeted him. Something slimy withdrew with a sucking sound. Caliban snapped shut its carapace, feeling bashful for having been kissed by someone other than Gwen, feeling like a virgin, touched for the very first time.

“I need to go.” Dai stood so fast he almost head-butted Gwen in the nose, sending Caliban tumbling from the couch. “Goodbye.”

“See you in Shanghai!”

The door slammed shut.

"Thanks for the save, Cali."

"Shaaa!"

"EEee?"

"No, Ariel, you could have triggered his Contingency Ring."

"EE!"

Gwen yawned. Below her, a vista of Nantong stretched out, revealing countless labourers working under the illumination of Daylight spells. Touching a hand to her Familiars, Gwen cautioned herself. Dealing with the Fungs was like wrestling with eels, one false move, and she'd have a slippery situation on her hands.

The next morning, after a buffet breakfast, Gwen and her Party arrived at the newly built Nantong ISTC station. The oval construct remained under construction, though for reasons of government business, a subsection had being made operational.

Two hundred odd HDMs later, the party arrived at the Shanghai ISTC interchange. A guard examined their papers, apologised to Dai for the delay, then escorted the group to the transit terminal. Dai then called for a minibus to taxi the party to Fudan.

Arriving after only two hours of travel from start to finish, Gwen thanked Dai for the Fung’s generosity.

“I’ll find a place to set up an office.” Dai looked around Gouding B1. “This place looks serviceable. Any vacancies?”

“You’ll have to speak to the real estate.” Gwen pointed to the agency whose shopfront, illuminated by a large VMR logo, was visible even from B1's lobby.

“I’ve got an apartment near The Bund, so I am only thirty minutes away,” Dai returned thoughtfully. “You’ve got my Message Glyph?”

“I do.” Gwen tapped her bracelet. “If you can’t find me, talk to Richard.”

“If I am out Questing, talk to Kusu.” Richard pointed to their erstwhile Clanner.

“Yep. I’ll be around,” Kusu answered awkwardly, annoyed that Richard always put him on the spot.

“Kusu is very reliable.” Gwen came to her companion's rescue. “You can trust him…”

Dai measured Kusu from head to toe, unimpressed. He knew Gwen had picked up two strays from Huashan, though that was the extent of it.

“Do I know you from somewhere? Kusu?”

“Lulan and I are ex-Sword Mages from Huashan,” Kusu confessed bashfully. “If you recall, we met during last year's gathering of the Clans.”

“Sorry,” the heir of Clan Fung dismissed Kusu. “I don’t… recall.”

“You remember my sister, right?” Kusu pointed to Lulan.

They looked at Lulan as she plucked out a flower from B1's garden.

“Nope.” Dai shrugged.

“She defeated a prodigy from your Clan! The Water Transmuter, what’s his name? Qianli?”

Dai’s gaze darted between Lulan and Kusu; recognition dawned.

“She's the blade-berserker?” Dai bemusedly studied the teenager with a baby face.

“…” Kusu recalled that indeed, his sister had carried that infamous moniker for many years.

“She’s… pretty cute.” Dai grinned contemplatively. "She's no longer insane?"

Noting their attention, Lulan looked up. Catching Dai’s handsome face, she gave him a heartwarming smile.

“Nope, nothing's changed. She’s a fucking psycho,” Kusu stated with solemnity. “When Lulan gets going, she’s a complete maniac. I should lock her up.”

“She seems fine to me?”

“She's an unsheathed blade,” Kusu assured their newest companion. “When Lulu's iron blood is up, she's indiscriminate. She'll cut you, no joke.”

Dai motioned for Gwen to join him.

“You’re friends with this lot?” He frowned. "Such disloyalty to his own family! How can you trust this man?"

Gwen had been watching the whole thing with captive interest.

“Don't be so quick to judge, Dai. Kusu’s a good bloke. He is loyal to his sister without being an idiot about it. He's level-headed and risk-aversive. We need someone like that around here."

“Whatever you say.” Dai grunted. “I’ll contact you once I have the office set up."

“You got it, champ.”

Her party breathed out a sigh of relief when Dai finally departed.

“What now?” Kusu was feeling rather self-satisfied, thanks to Gwen's praise.

“Tower Two?” Gwen pointed to the two buildings visible from B1. “Lulu's carrying about a hundred collectables in that Ring. You can leave the Cores with me; I’ll take em to Mayuree. When do you need the crystals.”

“We’re almost out,” Kusu confessed. “January rent is due soon, and there’s next Semester’s tuition, textbooks, training hall bookings, Cognisance sessions…”

Gwen patted Kusu on the shoulder. She gazed at the guileless Lulan, who wouldn’t have minded even if she had to live in a Portable Habitat, awakening each day to that maddening grey expanse.

"We're going now?" Lulan raised her head.

"Yep," Gwen replied, giving her first genuine smile since Dai joined them. "Let's collect some _loot_!"