Bai had finished his morning delivery before Yan’s shift began. He caught him near the market lane and pointed toward a secondhand clothing stall wedged between a basket maker and a seller of lamp wicks.
“You said your work shirt was catching on the cart rails,” Bai said.
“It catches on everything.”
“Then you need a shirt that has survived more than one season.”
“I need to start my shift.”
“The bell is still a quarter hour away.” Bai walked on. “If you don’t like anything, you can go back and sort jars.”
Yan followed him, mostly because the clothing stall was on the way to Ashfall. The seller had hung coats from a rope stretched between two posts. Most were faded brown or black, with frayed hems and sleeves shortened for previous owners. A dark blue coat hung at the end, one cuff repaired with heavy thread. The color was still strong on the broad back, though the elbows had worn soft.
Bai pulled it down. “Try this.”
“It’s too clean for the yard.”
“That’s why it’s for you, not the yard.”
Yan ran his hand over the cloth. It was sturdy without being stiff. He slipped it on over his work shirt and fastened the plain wooden buttons. The shoulders fit. The sleeves ended at his wrists. He turned toward the cracked mirror leaned against the stall post.
The man in the glass looked less like someone who spent every day among broken jars. The soot stains on his old shirt disappeared beneath the blue cloth. The coat gave his shoulders a cleaner line. Yan turned once more, then stopped himself from smiling too broadly.
Bai folded his arms. “You look like a junior disciple instead of a man who spends his day with broken jars.”
“I look like a man wearing someone else’s coat.”
“A junior disciple wearing someone else’s coat.”
The seller named a price. Yan pointed to the repaired cuff. “That stitch is already pulling.”
“It’s held for months,” the seller said.
“Then you don’t mind lowering the price by one copper.”
Bai gave the cuff a closer look. “The lining is good. He’s right about the stitch.”
The seller rolled his eyes. “You two share a mouth now?”
“No,” Yan said. “If we did, he’d charge me for using it.”
Bai laughed. The seller shook his head but lowered the price. Yan paid with coins he had set aside from the proceeds of sorted copper. He had counted the amount twice the night before. After the purchase, he still had enough left to buy Ning a hot meal.
He folded his old work shirt over his arm and carried the coat toward the food stalls. Bai walked beside him, still teasing him about looking like a junior disciple. Yan bought a bowl of hot rice and vegetables for Ning and had the seller seal it in a covered pot. He paid rather than asking for a credit. The market’s steam warmed his face as he tucked the pot beneath one arm.
Ning noticed the coat first when he came into the labor quarters. She looked from his shoulders to the covered food pot.
“Did the sect promote you?”
“No.”
“Did you steal a disciple’s uniform?”
“No.” Yan set down the pot. “I wanted something that looked good.”
She walked around him, checking the seams. “You bought a coat because you wanted it?”
“I had enough coins.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
She touched the repaired cuff. “You paid full price for this?”
“I made them lower it.”
“Then you’re learning.” She leaned back to see the whole coat. “It suits you.”
“Better than the work shirt.”
“Better than the soot.”
Yan took off the coat and helped her move the food pot to the table. “I thought you’d like the warm meal.”
“I do. I also like that you bought yourself something first.”
He was about to argue that the coat was useful. The cuff would need mending; he had bought it with his own money. There was no reason to pretend it had been a work tool. “I like it,” he said instead.
Ning lifted the lid. The vegetables were still steaming. “We’ll eat before it cools.”
They shared the food. Yan gave her the larger portion of rice, and she took the piece of tofu he had tried to leave in his bowl. She asked him about the market, and he told her how Bai had steered him toward the clothing stall before the bell. The courier had called the coat a junior disciple’s coat, and Yan had told him a servant would need wages and a better coat.
Ning laughed hard enough that she had to pause and breathe. “You said that to Bai?”
“He said a proper cultivator should have a servant.”
“Then tell him a servant would need a courtyard too.”
“He’ll probably price one for me.”
“Let him. We can start with the coat.”
When Yan returned to the yard, the blue sleeve caught on a nail beside the wash shed. The fabric tore at the seam near the cuff. He stopped before it pulled wider and unbuttoned the coat. The shift bell sounded while he was still holding the ragged edge.
Bai saw him turn back. “You’ve had it less than an hour.”
“I know.”
“I suppose you want the seller to take it back.”
“No. The nail did it.”
Bai inspected the rip. “The supervisor might charge you for the damage if you work in it.”
“I’ll mend it before I put it on again.”
Yan fetched the small sewing kit from his quarters at the first break. The needle was thin and the thread was meant for patching sacks. He stitched the tear closed while Bai held the coat sleeve flat. The repair held, but the stitches sat unevenly and puckered the cuff.
“A proper cultivator should have a servant,” Bai said.
“A servant would need wages and probably a better coat.”
Their laughter drew a glance from the older workers at the sorting benches. One man snorted and returned to his pile. Another asked Bai whether he could hire a servant to carry the empty baskets. Bai answered that he charged by the parcel, not the joke.
Yan turned the cuff toward him. “It’s a special design.”
“An uneven design,” Bai said.
“Still mine.”
That night Ning studied the mended seam and pinched the cloth between her fingers. “You should reinforce this before you wear it through the yard again.”
“I will. It survived the first day.”
“Barely.” She folded the coat over the chair. “Do the pills make you feel different?”
“My energy lasts longer. I’m less tired after work.”
“Do your obligations change?”
“No.”
“Does the price of my care change?”
“No.”
She sat back against the wall. “Then keep one portion of what you earn for yourself. You can still help me without turning every coin into a duty.”
Yan looked at the coat. It was the first thing he had bought because he wanted it, not because the yard required it. “I can do that.”
“Good. When you own a courtyard, you can buy a matching hat.”
“I’ll ask Bai to find one.”
“Ask him to find one that doesn’t catch on nails.”
He hung the coat within reach of the chair, where it would not touch the soot-dark wall. The cuff still needed a better stitch. He was pleased by the color, the weight, and the simple fact that he had chosen it.