"Li Hou, that is a great deal of ginger."

  Daoist Enduring Oath watched as the monkey hesitated, before digging the scoop back into the drawer once more.

  "Little ginger good. Big ginger more good." Orange-crest explained. It seemed a very simple concept. Ginger tasted good. Why would one not put as much as possible in their tea?

  "There is such a thing as too much of a good thing."

  The monkey craned its neck to look up at him, its eyes unusually serious.

  "Ginger like wine?" Orange-crest asked. He didn't want to compound his brother's internal flames with a pounding headache.

  "Not exactly. Mundane ginger has some level of influence over the humors of mortals. It's considered a warming medicine, actually. But for a cultivator of Daoist Scouring Medicine's attainment, its effect would be all but nonexistent."

  "Then why no more ginger?"

  "Just... Trust your senior on this. Less ginger. Li Xun will appreciate it."

  Daoist Enduring Oath watched as the monkey set a kettle to boil. He found himself intervening again, when Li Hou tried to increase the amount of dried tea to concerning proportions. Then a second time when the monkey grabbed at the iron kettle without a hook or cloth.

  "But you touch!" Orange-crest complained. "Why I no touch?"

  Daoist Enduring Oath sighed, then rolled up his sleeve. He stuck his arm fully into his brother's hearth, enjoying the heat of the coals. His skin felt so little these days. He needed a blazing furnace, to remember what the gentle warmth of sunlight on his face used to feel like.

  The monkey's eyes narrowed.

  "Fine."

  Gingerly, it reached out for the teapot. It tapped the side, withdrawing its fingers instantly.

  "Not even hot." Orange-crest insisted. It was a little hot.

  Was this what having children was like? It seemed exhausting. Perhaps he should consider taking a disciple of his own. It would be nice to leave something behind, when his time ran out. Perhaps a less energetic pupil, though.

  The monkey held the cups as he poured. The moment he finished, it scampered off, liquid sloshing dangerously.

  "I make tea!" Li Hou proclaimed loudly from the other room, no doubt presenting it to his master.

  Daoist Enduring Oath snorted quietly, banking the fire before he rose to join them. He carefully schooled his face as he entered his martial brother's presence. Li Xun could be a touchy fellow at the best of times, and he had no wish to compound his injury with insult. There was no kind way to say it, the alchemist's skin resembled nothing so much as it did char siu. Red as an adzuki bean and ominously shiny, swollen just enough to have an unnaturally taut texture, Daoist Scouring Medicine looked as much guai as man. Even now, two days on, small puffs of steam occasionally vented from his ears.

  Through careful manipulation of internal qi, and perhaps a measure of luck, his Li Xun had at least managed to avoid losing his hair to the side effects of his volatile medicament.

  "It is... Remarkably ginger forward." The man noted with a pursed expression. Or, what might have been a pursed expression beneath all that facial swelling.

  "I tried. Your disciple is most determined."

  "Very funny. Please, do not restrain yourself on my account. There are three bowls, after all. And I do not think this a blend that will improve with longer steeping."

  "Is better taste ginger than taste leaf." Orange-crest interjected.

  "We'll have to agree to disagree on that count."

  The two daoists spoke of small things for a time. Their crafts and the weather. Trends in trade, and the disciples who might seek promotion this year. Li Hou excused himself shortly after finishing his tea. Daoist Scouring Medicine hardly required a nurse. He could easily have prepared his own tea, even in this condition. But it was not an unpleasant way to spend an afternoon. Daoist Enduring Oath wondered how many more such afternoons he would share with his brother. It was a thought ill-befitting an aspiring immortal.

  His brother noticed his darkening expression, and his brow furrowed in turn.

  "Li Hou has been gone a while." The man with the skin of a new year's duck noted. And more ominously, he's quiet."

  "I sensed him enter the pantry. I assumed he's raiding your larder."

  Daoist Scouring Medicine rose rapidly, wincing.

  "I keep more than just food in there."

  "Oh."

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------

  It had taken a while, but orange-crest had finally figured out the pantry! The spell binding it was basically just the commandment to stop, but slightly different. So opening the door was as simple as breaking the spell.

  Yang Wei had shown him the secret. Slow, steady, pushing. The qi magic was a brittle thing, one that fell apart rapidly with any resistance. It took a great deal of qi to make, but a little qi applied over a long time could break it. And he didn't think his brother had put his full might into shutting the pantry.

  He'd seen his brother's full might now. He was no match for the Monkey King, but he was far closer in stature than orange-crest had expected. He understood now, why his brother had disdained Mount Yuelu's isolation. How mighty must this emperor of man be, if his powerful brother was so far beneath him as to be worth less attention than the Monkey King had shown orange-crest?

  He took another drink. On Mount Yuelu, he'd often left his wines for most of a season. This one had seen one part in three of that span, but it was already done! The sweetness was all but vanished, leaving only the harsh fire of wine. Perhaps there was indeed merit to those yellow flakes his brother had provided.

  His brother would complain, but his brother complained about a lot of things. It was only fair that orange-crest have access to the fruit wine he had made! He would have explained this to his brother at the time of making it, if he hadn't been tired and frustrated by the time he'd finished the mash. It had been hard work, bridging the language gap between him and his brother. Even now, there was so much he could not say.

  If orange-crest had to think, he didn't want to do it sober. And the preceding days had given him a great deal to think about.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  A year among men, to free his brother from the chains of the sect. It was a very long time. He'd not been hasty, in swearing it. He'd do it again in a moment. Brotherhood was not a thing to be weighed and measured. Help was asked, so help would be given. Even if he could not yet see the form of it, what he could do before the terrible weight of the sect. There were no words he could say, men he could fight, or things he could take. Nothing he could see within his mind's eyes, that would shift the bearing of that great behemoth of an organization.

  Yet, his brother was certain. And his brother did not strike him as a man to be certain when he should not.

  But, if his brother had a plan, orange-crest did not. He'd tried fitting in. Acting as the humans did. Or, as closely as he could manage.

  It hadn't ended in catastrophe. He'd learned and grown. His belly was full, even after his defeat. He'd not come here with intention. Curiosity and the madness of men had torn him from Mount Yuelu.

  By all rights, he should be as satisfied as one could be, after a loss. Despite his defeat, cultivator magic had cured the worst of his wounds, and his brother's house remained safe and warm.

  But he wasn't satisfied.

  For the first time in orange-crest's life, a full belly and a safe cave was not enough. There had always been a hunger in him for precious and hidden knowings. But it had been a false-hunger. One he could not perish from for paucity.

  It seemed almost a real hunger now. A need sharp enough to cut. Orange-crest needed to know more. Be more. He was tired of being blown about by the whims of fate and men. Even by those of his brother.

  "There you are."

  Orange-crest was definitely not startled by his fruit-skinned-brother's sudden appearance. Any who said that he yelped loudly, and by futile reflex attempted to conceal the great jug with his body, were lying liars. He'd done nothing wrong and definitely did not act like a criminal when caught.

  Definitely.

  "It's not good to drink alone." Daoist Scouring Medicine continued.

  "Yes it is. If not drink alone, monkeys steal all the drink."

  Daoist Scouring Medicine sat down beside the monkey, ignoring the fervent protests of his muscles.

  "That's the price we pay for company. Far sadder to drink alone than be sober together."

  The daoist looked over at the jug.

  "Not that we seem in imminent danger of sobriety."

  "Am seeing if wine good or bad." Orange-crest muttered defensively.

  "A rather thorough quality check."

  The monkey did not reply. Daoist Scouring Medicine frowned. It was tricky, seeing into the little beast's heart. It shrugged off being kidnapped like it was nothing, but it'd grown fiercely sullen when subjected to mere days of monotonous work.

  He didn't think the monkey was some princeling who had never taken a loss in a fight with its peers. It spoke frequently of being small, and losing squabbles with its larger packmates.

  "What has you in such a mood." He asked directly. That was one of the nice things about teaching a monkey. He didn't need to ever be one step ahead, play the part of the all-knowing senior. The monkey wouldn't treat him with the respect his position was due even if he did.

  "You took pill. You wind-ran like free-fire. Struck with hands that could break cauldron."

  "I did."

  "I want that. How get?"

  "You want to run on the wind and burn like a cauldron? Be strong enough to shatter metal?" He summarized.

  "Yes." Orange-crest said seriously.

  "What do you think I've been teaching you?"

  "How chop chop?"

  Daoist Scouring Medicine laughed. The motion pulled unpleasantly at the skin of his chest. Heavens above, he was going to need to make a balm for his skin, wasn't he? It was healing too tightly. Burns were the worst. Now he was remembering exactly why he'd never made that pill a second time.

  "Chop chop, reading, making pills. That is the foundation of my power. All that I am, all I am capable of, is built atop my understanding of the truths of heaven and earth. You achieved the second stage of qi condensation in a week! Do you have any idea how rapid a rise that is? Yang Wei likely spent six hours a day cultivating in a spirit spring to match you! With the aid of my pills, you did that in a single session! You're spending not even a tenth of that time in the Fathomless Well! It's hardly surprisingly you haven't had another breakthrough since."

  "But I'm weak monkey. Yang Wei beat like rude infant."

  "You're an initiate! You were a mortal a month ago!" Daoist Scouring Medicine wanted to tear his hair out. This monkey! He'd thought it might be demoralized about losing, but it was dissatisfied with its progress! It would be one thing, if it understood just how heaven-defying its progress had been. It'd taken a month to learn the rudiments of reading and alchemy and it was disappointed by this! There was nothing more appropriate than a cultivator hungering for ever more. But those impossible talents at least understood what they surpassed.

  Li Hou could scarcely speak a human tongue, and he wanted to match the strength it'd taken his master most of a century to achieve!

  "Look, I have a plan for your development. A way to help you surpass even Yang Wei and the other noble scions. You have no chance of matching their spiritual cultivations. They'll have access to cultivation methods and resources that far surpass what I can provide you. But few of the sects focus on bodily cultivation. Its dangerous and resource intensive, and sufficiently advanced spiritual cultivation grants many of the same benefits as a byproduct. But they underestimate it, especially at low realms. I have a plan for a bath that will allow you to leap the dragon gate, no matter how fast the clan talents grow, none of them have a hope of reaching the peak of qi condensation in a single year. But if I can...."

  Orange-crest took another deep drink as his brother burst into a frenzied explanation of his plans. Much of it went in one of the monkey's ears and then out the other. It sounded good, in principle. Making him stronger. A rematch with Yang Wei. Him winning, and this brother going free.

  But his brother was missing the point. Orange-crest didn't want his brother to make him into a stronger monkey. His, should be the paw on the cauldron.

  "No." Orange-crest said firmly.

  "What!" Daoist Scouring Medicine thundered. "Do you have any idea what others would do for-"

  "Not no." Orange-crest clarified quickly, before his brother could work himself into a tizzy. He was too injured to be getting this excited. It was hard to take him seriously with his skin pinker than a rose in bloom. "Yes-no. Sounds like good. But not what ask. You know baths. You are bath-man. I want to make me stronger. Not just you."

  "I see." His brother said quietly. The rose-man turned to stare up at the late afternoon sky. Orange-crest leaned back and did the same.

  "Cultivation is a long and difficult road." Daoist Scouring Medicine said eventually. "Every step you take upon it will be harder than the last."

  "Cultivation is hard." Orange-crest agreed. "Also boring. This monkey not good at sitting still and being cold and heavy."

  "If it were easy and fun, everyone would do it. You have a rare talent, and a good master. But running fast will not make the road shorter. My strength is built atop a foundation of knowledge. But scholarship is a road as long and difficult as cultivation in its own manner. My advice, if you want to achieve something on your own, is to focus on techniques. Inventing your own cultivation method is difficult. Martial skill is good, but you don't strike me as the sort so singularly minded as to become a sword cultivator. But the rate at which you've picked up the immobilizing spell suggests an affinity for the spiritual arts that might be worth honing. Just... Don't be surprised if success is distant and infrequent. There's a reason cultivators put such stock in the arts passed down by our masters and sects. Even I have precious few novel techniques to my name."

  "Your words have sharp-smarts. Might be right, but this monkey does not like. You say is hard. Is slow. I believe. But why?"

  "Why is cultivation difficult? Why is life full of struggle? Philosophers have struggled futilely with such questions for ages. I dare not claim to understand the fullness of the Dao. Your guess is as good as mine Li Hou."

  There was another silence. Li Xun felt like he was failing his student somehow, though he did not know how. He wondered if his teacher had ever felt the same.

  "Perhaps I've focused your education too intensely on my own interests." He said eventually. "Learning is the foundation of my Dao, but perhaps it is not yours. If your talents lead you elsewhere, I will help you as best I can."

  Orange-crest groaned.

  "No more big talk. Came out here to drink and think. Now I think only drink. Too much think."

  "Very well. Pass that jug. Let's see if your brewing skills are as great as you claimed."

  Orange-crest hefted the great jug, marveling at how light it was to him now. It still took all his strength to lift it rather than roll it. But just a month ago it would have been beyond him entirely to shift such a colossal vessel. Just a month ago he didn't know what a month was.

  His brother hefted it with a single hand, taking a long draw.

  "Eugh. That's too sweet. I don't think its done fermenting."

  "I like the sweet. Daoist Scouring Medicine no has good taste."

  "You rascal! Not a single person would believe such a foolish claim!"

  "Is still true!" Orange-crest insisted. This conversation with his brother had left him more confused than when he'd begun trying to think organize the many thoughts that warred in his head. But as he and his brother exchanged friendly-mockery and fought over the wine, he felt like he was coming closer to an answer. Perhaps the not-knowing was just part of the road to the knowing. His brother had plans. And orange-crest, well, he was starting to have ideas.