Although Xie Lian racked his brain long and hard, he was still coming up empty, so he had no choice but to seek outside help. And the first ones he thought of were, of course, his two capable former subordinates.
The three of them crouched together in a remote, unknown, run-down temple.
After a period of awkward silence, Feng Xin asked, “What are you two looking at me for?”
The other two continued to stare at him, their silence speaking for them.
It couldn’t be helped. Of the three of them, Feng Xin was the only one who’d ever had a wife, so he should technically be the one who knew best about how to delight one’s beloved. But Feng Xin’s face only grew darker the more they stared.
“…It won’t be any use, no matter how long you two stare at me,” he said. “I only ever gave her one thing.”
And it was a golden belt—one that Xie Lian had given him.
Mu Qing couldn’t believe he’d been dragged out to discuss something like this. The fact that he wasn’t yet rolling his eyes was already very polite of him. All he wanted was to get this over with quickly.
“That works. Belts are nice. You might as well give him a golden one too.”
Xie Lian automatically filtered out the sarcasm and replied, “But I don’t have any more.”
They had all been pawned centuries ago!
Going harder on the passive-aggression, Mu Qing said, “Everything’s smooth sailing for you now; the streets are filled with your temples and devotees. Just send any of those people a dream and tell them what you want. That’ll net you a golden belt, no problem.”
“But that’s meaningless,” Xie Lian said. “I’d hardly be putting my heart in it if I got my devotees to offer me a present that I want to give someone else.”
Seeing that his sarcasm hadn’t been registered, Mu Qing’s tone finally returned to normal. “Why are you being such a pain? Just make something yourself, then.”
“Good idea!” Xie Lian said quickly. “But I don’t know how.”
“You can learn.”
“You’re right. But from whom?”
Mu Qing was growing impatient. “How should I know? Just grab someone…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Mu Qing trailed off and realized that the stares were now on him.
Four hours later, all ten of Xie Lian’s fingers were covered with needle pricks and fully wrapped in bandages to keep his hands from streaming blood. His pain and effort had produced a long, striped object of indeterminate purpose.
Unable to stand the sight of the thing, Mu Qing demanded, “What is that?”
Xie Lian sighed. “A belt.”
“I know it’s a belt,” Mu Qing said gruffly. “What I’m asking is, what did you attempt to embroider on it? What are those two potatoes supposed to symbolize?”
“They aren’t potatoes!” Xie Lian protested. “They’re two people. Can’t you tell?”
To help Mu Qing better visualize it, he gestured as he explained. “These are their faces. These are the eyes. The mouths are here—”
After confirming that those were indeed the heads of two human beings, Mu Qing was floored. “Who embroiders two giant heads on a belt?! Can you even wear something like that in public? Your taste in fashion isn’t that terrible, so how did you manage to churn out something like this?”
Xie Lian couldn’t help it. He was adept when it came to things like fixing up a house, digging a well, building walls, and so on—he was good and fast at those tasks. But he was apparently born to be inept when it came to household crafts that women were partial to; the situation spiraled out of control the moment he picked up a needle or a spatula. He glanced at his hands, both now wrapped as thoroughly as zongzi. Although he didn’t feel pain, he couldn’t help being discouraged by the speed of his progress.
“…I’ll fix it, I guess.”
But the work was complete, so how could he fix it? The most he could do was add a circle of flower petals around the pair of little heads, thus transforming them into a canoodling pair of big, clumsy flower heads.
Feng Xin and Mu Qing grimaced harder, and veins bulged faintly on Mu Qing’s forehead.
“I taught a pig and it learned,” he scolded. “Why are you such a klutz? All you’re doing is stabbing your hands!”
Feng Xin spoke up. “When did you ever teach a pig? You’re all talk!”
“Forget it, you should just give up. You don’t have the talent for this,” Mu Qing said bluntly to Xie Lian.
It was rare that he got to tell Xie Lian that he didn’t have the talent for something, and with a total lack of humility, to boot. It felt kind of nice.
Feng Xin couldn’t listen to him anymore. “Can you cut the crap? You haven’t praised His Highness even once since we started. Wearing clothes and making them yourself aren’t the same thing! Besides, the belt isn’t that bad—at least it’s wearable.”
“All right, sure. Have him give you that thing, and if you dare wear it outside, you win.”
Before Feng Xin had a chance to respond, Xie Lian hurried to tuck away the belt that was so ugly it was funny.
“Oh no, let’s not. I’d better just keep this for myself!”
He couldn’t give anyone something like this!