Yao eagerly stepped into the side hall as the children were dismissed, glad when he saw the smaller tables. Sitting at the head of the main table had been exciting for the first couple of minutes, but Yao soon got tired of not being able to speak to Li or any of the other children. His mother had given him a subtle nod and a slight smile once the first course ended, and he was glad that she seemed proud of his behavior. 

The side hall was quieter, lit with fewer lanterns and softened by pale silk panels that dampened the hum of voices from the banquet behind them. Long cushions had been laid around low tables lacquered in soft cinnabar, and a few of the children had already clustered into their own groups, whispering and nudging one another as they arranged themselves with the kind of casual, coded choreography only children seemed to understand. 

It only took a moment for Yao to sit and he was happy when he noticed Li sitting next to him. “Was that your brother next to you?”

“Yes and my ma.” Li answered, grinning as he leaned forward on the table. “He didn’t want to come, but my mother made him since Wei was here.”

“Why does that matter?” Yao asked, eagerly reaching for a dumpling as they were placed on the table in front of him. Li frowned, clearly confused by Yao’s question.

“Because they are both heirs. Wei will be the head of Taiheng and Zexian will replace our mother,” Li explained and Yao nodded. He didn’t really understand why that mattered, but he assumed it was like most adult things his mother avoided talking about. “You don’t learn about that in your lessons?”

“No? My mother only has me learning to read and write.”

“Hm, I wish that’s all I had to learn. Being in a branch family sounds fun,” Li pouted and Yao chuckled, finding his new friend's expression funny. It was nice to talk to another kid who was like him. “Being in the main branch is so boring and the lessons are too long.”

“I thought being in the main family meant you got better food,” Yao said, reaching for another dumpling. “And nicer robes.”

Li grinned at that, mouth full as he mumbled, “Well, the robes are nice.”

They both laughed softly, and the sound blended easily with the quiet voices around them. No one at their table was really paying attention, which made the space feel more like a game than a formal gathering. The older children at the far end were already starting to whisper about sneaking sweets before the next course, and someone had hidden a set of dice under the table mat, their muffled clack a secret rhythm only the younger guests noticed.

Yao wiped his hands and leaned in again. “What was that thing around your brother’s neck?”

“Huh? You mean his mark?”

Yao felt his curiosity peak. So that was the mark the servants were talking about? “That’s your family’s mark?”

“Yeah. My ma has hers on her arms,” Li lifted his sleeves, showing where his mother’s marks were. “She has 3 rings on each, unlike Zexian who only has two on his neck and chest. I’ve never seen Wei’s but they said his–”

“You kids shouldn’t be talking about marks,” Feng’s voice made Yao frown, and he was unsurprised to see his older cousin standing over them. She wasn’t even the oldest kid in the room anymore, but it seemed she was still bothered by Yao ignoring her earlier. “You aren’t from the main family. You won’t get a mark.”

“That’s not true!” Li argued back, pouting as Yao remained quiet. “Branch families get marks all the time.”

“Well, not our family,” Feng argued back, but that made Yao perk up. Didn’t his mother have some sort of mark on her arm that she always avoided talking about? Did no one else know she had them? “No one in the Luoyin branch has had a mark in fifty years.”

Feng put her hands on her hips, clearly proud of her knowledge of their family history, but Yao decided to ignore her as he usually did. She was just looking for attention and acknowledgment of her authority, something Yao was never willing to give her. 

Li wrinkled his nose. “That’s a weird thing to brag about.”

Feng opened her mouth to argue again, but someone at the other table snorted, and a few of the older kids started laughing. Not at her exactly, but the timing was enough to make her lips press into a sharp line. She opened her mouth to say something else, but another voice interrupted her. 

“That’s not true.” Wei’s voice made Yao look up, and he noticed he was sitting alone at one of the other tables, carefully eating from a small bowl of soup. He hadn’t looked up when he spoke, but the table went silent around him anyway. Even the clatter of dice stopped, as if he commanded the same authority his father did.

Feng hesitated, clearly caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

Wei set his bowl down with the same calm precision he’d used when adjusting the basin. “The mother of the birthday boy has the mark. She developed it late and decided not to pursue cultivation due to having her son.”

Yao blinked, stunned that Wei knew something so personal about his family. Across the table, Li looked just as surprised. Feng's mouth opened slightly, then closed. She glanced at Yao with narrowed eyes, as if trying to decide whether she’d been tricked or if Wei was lying to embarrass her.

“So, Yao has every right to be curious, as it's possible he may develop one as well. Perhaps it is you who has no right to talk about marks.” Wei continued, taking another sip of his soup. A slight murmur went through the other kids, and Yao suddenly felt small in the room. Wei made it sound like a big deal to be marked and he had never heard of “cultivation” before. Was it why his mother hid the patterns on her arms?

Feng recovered quickly, arms crossing as she turned her frown toward Wei instead. “That’s not something you should say in public.”

“I wasn’t the one who brought up marks,” Wei replied, still not looking up. “But I don’t mind apologizing if I embarrassed you.”

That last part was polite enough, even sweetly phrased, but the silence in the room deepened, taut as pulled silk. Feng clearly heard the implication and she bristled beneath it. Without another word, she turned and walked briskly across the room to sit near the older girls at the next table. Yao watched her go, the sharp line of her back as rigid as it was every time she felt like she’d lost control of a conversation.

Yao reached for another dumpling, but he simply played with the edges instead of eating it. The dough felt soft and pliable beneath his fingers, a tiny comfort he could control, unlike the sudden weight pressing down on his chest. He hadn’t expected Wei to speak up like that. Not for him. Not so clearly. And definitely not with something so personal.

He didn't quite know what he felt but all of it churned low in his stomach, mixing with the food and leaving an odd hollowness behind. Across the table, Li didn’t say anything right away either. For a moment, he looked like a normal kid, unsure what to say to comfort his friend, and it made Yao feel slightly better. He didn’t always feel like a normal kid, but seeing Li flustered made him feel better. 

“You okay?” Yao asked.

Li shrugged, then nodded, mouth twisting slightly. “She’s kind of mean.”

“Yeah. She’s always like that.” Yao agreed, noticing as Li managed to smile slightly. “She hates being ignored or out done though.”

“Serves her right,” Li huffed, shoving a whole dumpling in his mouth as Yao laughed. The air seemed to ease as the moment passed, and the tension that had woven itself through the tables loosened thread by thread, forgotten as the chatter picked back up and dessert trays began to appear on the edges of the side hall. Yao stood, eager to share some candied peaches with Li, when he felt his hands start to ache. 

The pain was subtle at first, just a throb in the center of his palms, almost like he’d pressed them too hard against the table edge. Yao flexed his fingers absently as he leaned over to grab a small lacquered tray filled with sliced fruits and candied nuts. The ache didn’t stop. It deepened, spreading outward, and he winced.

Li glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Yao lied quickly. He set the tray down and rubbed his hands against his sleeves. The silk felt cool, but it did nothing to dull the warmth beginning to build in his palms. His breath caught. Beneath his skin, something pulsed once, and then again, more insistent. Yao finally glanced down at his hands while Li was distracted with the treat. 

Two overlapping circles, one atop the other, traced like old ink sat just beneath the surface of each palm. His heart jumped into his throat. He squeezed his fists closed, then opened them again. The marks didn’t fade, but they glowed faintly before settling into their inky appearance. 

Was this a mark?

“So sweet,” Li whined and Yao quickly stopped looking at his hands, carefully reaching for a slice, glad no one sat on his other side. “How do they make these?”

“Dunno, but they’re my favorite,” Yao managed to smile brightly, but his thoughts were racing. What did a mark mean? Wei had said something about cultivation, but Yao didn’t know what that was. Would his mother be mad if he showed her? Would–

Yao shook his head. She wouldn’t be upset about something he couldn’t control. For now, he would do his best to hide it and ask her later. He didn’t want to ruin his first birthday banquet and meeting his first friend. He chuckled as Li made a face at the tart taste, but reached for another slice of the treat. 

It could wait. It would wait.