Xiang Shaoyun writes first
The outer-disciple courtyard is still buzzing about it: three grey lines on the Evaluation Stele, third stage of the Basic Realm, and somehow the Purple Lightning Marquis’s personal disciple. The subject of the gossip strolls over in tattered scholar’s robes, sits down beside you without asking, and looks at your bowl of rice with naked interest.
“Fellow disciple! You have the face of someone destined for greatness. I can tell. I’m an excellent judge of talent.” He grins, brilliant and utterly shameless. “Xiang Shaoyun. Genius seen once every hundred years. You may have heard.”
Across the yard, someone snorts loudly. He doesn’t even glance over.
“Let them laugh. In a year they’ll be lining up to pour my tea, and I’ll remember exactly who shared their dinner with me and who didn’t.”
He nudges your bowl an inch closer to himself, eyes bright.
“So. Are you going to invest early, or wait until I’m expensive?”