“You astound me,” said Meng as they strode up the path back. She glared at him, but in that exasperated half-lidded way, not the kind she really meant. This was Meng the old lady glaring. Nearly playful.

Dorian had been on the receiving end of the other kind of glare too, the kind from Meng the Warlord. Twice. It hadn’t ended well. If Dorian and Sun were to have any success it was Old Lady Meng they’d need to win over.

Slip up, and they might well face the wrath of the Warlord.

“What kind of nasty trick did you pull to get swindle that poor little girl?” said Meng. “Does she know who you are?”

“Nasty trick? You speak as though I’ve kidnapped her!”

“Have you?”

“Pssh! Of course not.” Dorian scoffed. “I’ve merely talked her into a mutually beneficial partnership.”

“Dear—bless you—nobody has ever called you mutually beneficial,” said Meng with a knowing sigh. “Parasitic, perhaps! I do hope you’ve not taken advantage of the poor thing.”

Just what Dorian hoped to hear. He was happy to play the bad guy. It only made Sun look more innocent. Trustworthy. The sort of wholesome child you might be inclined to bequeath, say, a Dao Fruit to.

“I admit it. Perhaps I’ve not been the most… caring… humanitarian… creature in the past. But after Jez took my bodies, I’m a changed man! As I am now, I’d never do such a thing. In fact—you’ll return to find I haven’t touched a single item in your cottage. I’ve turned a new leaf.” He smiled devilishly.

Meng made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cackle. “Dorian, Dorian. You forget that you, too, are but a wee babe to me! You might fool little lasses, child, but if you’re under the impression such petty tomfoolery will work on me—eh?” She sniffed. “What’s that?”

Sun was cooking on her lawn. She had on hand what looked like a portable kiln artifact—a chunk of hollow stone veined with blue glyph-lines. When she saw Meng, she beamed. Beamed like a ray of warm sunlight falling soft through a veil of dark clouds. Like a child seeing her mother for the first time in years. Dorian put up a hand to ward off the glare of it. The girl really could act with the best of them! Her grandfather could too, along with all his other shapeshifting cloaking shenanigans. Must be in the blood.

“Granny Meng! Granny Meng!” Sun gave a happy little wave.

“What have we here?” said Meng. She raised a brow, but Dorian could tell by the crinkles about her eyes, the tug at her lips, she was amused. Old and world-weary she may be, but he knew her—just as she knew him.

The old lady had a heart. And that was her one weakness. Sure, it was well-protected—hidden under hardened layers of cynicism. He’d certainly never pierce it. But you had to use the right tools for the job! Sun, on the other hand?

Maybe. Just maybe.

With a gloved hand, Sun pulled a steaming plate out of the kiln. On it lay a pie with a crisp golden-brown crust. She blew the steam off it, which curled up a question-mark in the air. It smelled as delicious as it looked—a hint of sweetness, almost earthy, and then a thick yeasty scent, so thick you could sink teeth into it.

“My grandpa always taught me when you went to someones house you ought to give something back,” she said brightly. Dorian nodded. Very good—invoke her friend, tug on those heartstrings!

“So… I made you this.” She stared down at her pie, all sheepish. “It’s Wukong Carrot pie—made of some of the last few Wukong Carrots left after—after—”

She swallowed. A dabbling of tears in the eyes, right on command. How could Meng resist? It really was quite stirring. Even Dorian got hit with a little cuteness whiplash, and he was in on the joke.

“Aww…” sighed Meng. “Why. What a sweet child. What a sweet gift! I should be honored to accept.”

“I’ll slice it up for you!” A few cuts later Sun presented a piece to Meng on a tiny paper plate. Meng took it and nodded, crow’s feet wrinkling around her eyes. She took a slow bite of crust, which crackled as it gave way to warm gooey interiors. She swallowed. Then licked her lips.

“Mmm.” Meng never had children, but by her smile she could’ve fooled Dorian. “My, my. This is heavenly, dear. You ought to be proud.”

“I used to make it all the time, back at home,” said Sun, hands clasped behind her back, head down and a little abashed, a picture of shyness. “All my brothers and sister used to like whacking each other. Just like grandpa. But I was never really good at any of that…” She drooped. “So I went out and made friends with the sprites in the wood near our house instead! They taught me what it meant to care for the flowers and the carrots. Like these!”

Dorian kept his face blank, but inside he was cackling. Oh, Sun knew what she was doing, alright. Meng gave up a life of battle for a life of tending to her garden. Sun reflected the woman to herself—what better way to garner sympathy? The details could use some work—if in her position Dorian wagered he could squeeze in some more sob-story details, pluck harder at those heartstrings. But he still gave her a discreet thumbs-up.

What mattered was Meng was eating it up. The pie, that was, but the lie too. By the look on her face they quite well together.

“After grandpa left for the last time, I realized I didn’t really want to fight,” Sun whispered. She fidgeted with her hands, all shy-nervous, eyes down at her feet. “I didn’t want to go out like that. I wanted to go out doing the stuff I like doing! Eating, that is.”

When she looked up again her eyes seemed to hold whole galaxies. Wide and full and shimmering with hope. “It’s my dream to eat all the most delicious foods in the Multiverse! And—and it’s even better when I can share it with others. And make them happy too. That’s the best feeling in the world, isn’t it?”

She sounded so sincere Dorian felt like getting his head checked. Was there some kind of qi effect here—a mind-warping Technique? Or was she just that good an actor? He honestly couldn’t tell. In any case, the subtext—please oh please share your food with me—was so unsubtle she might as well have shouted it. But Meng only grinned wider. Incredible how much you can overlook when it comes out the mouth of a child.

“Well isn’t that just lovely,” said Meng through a mouthful of pie. She patted Sun on the head, and Dorian did a little victory lap in his mind.

“That’s why I partnered up with him!” She pointed to Dorian. “He said he could help me do that. And—and now we’re here.”

She turned her starlight smile on Meng again. All innocence, guilelessness. Dorian could tell she was weighing the moment. Was now the right time to ask? But Sun wisely held off.

“Child, child. Dorian is not—” Meng was struggling to find the words. “How might I put this? He isn’t the sort of creature you ought to be around. He’s somewhat of a…”

Her eyes flickered over him.

“Prick? Scammer? Traitor? Psychopath? All-around degenerate?” Dorian offered helpfully.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“You should be careful around creatures like him.” Meng frowned. “They often have the most nefarious intentions. Don’t you have any other guardians who might take you? Family friends? The Wukongs are—were—a clan of no small influence…”

“Naw, I don’t think so…” Then Sun squinted at her. “And yeah, I guess he is a little like that. But he’s got some goodness in him too! Don’t we all? If we give out kindness, others will be kind back. That’s what I try to live by, anyways.”

Sun had Meng by the neck. Dorian could see it in Meng’s face; she was bought in. That last one maxim was laying it on a little thick. It still somehow went beneath Meng’s notice—directly into her subconscious, Dorian hoped?

“How…noble,” said Meng. How idealistic. How naive. She had that look on her face like she didn’t know whether to break it to the girl or not. Dorian marked the exact moment in her expression she decided it wasn’t her business. She sighed. “Good for you.”

Now Dorian was watching Sun like a bettor watching the horse he bet on racing toward the finish line. She nearly had it! Finishing touches!

“Well… thank you for the tea. And the cookies,” sniffed Sun. She bowed. “We’ve got to go to the Kingdom of Ur now. Dorian says their ox flesh is to die for. It was really great talking!”

“I had a wonderful time too.” A fond smile on Meng’s face. Sun waved goodbye. Meng did too. Dorian waved goodbye. Meng shot him a glare—of the don’t you dare hurt this adorable little girl variety. He shrugged.

“One last thing,” said Meng. That was directed at him. “By now, I would’ve thought you’d ask.”

“What happened the last two times I tried?” Dorian laughed. “I gave it a shot, didn’t I? Didn’t work out. I know not to push you. I’d rather leave here with my life, thank you very much. I can learn, you know.”

“Hmm.”

They set off back down the garden path fruitless.

Halfway out, he and Sun exchanged a quick glance. Wordless. But in that one look they understood each other, one con artist to another. Sneaky sneaky!

He saw, of course, what she was doing. This was the final trick. What had Meng said to Dorian? ‘If you ask, I’ll have to kill you.’ It was like power. The only people worthy of it were those who didn’t seek it directly. Plus, if she asked outright there might be some suspicion lurking in the back of Meng’s mind that Dorian had put Sun up to something.

But now they were walking away empty-handed. Sun had put the seed of the idea in Meng’s mind. She’d watered it, too—almost a little too much. Now, if Meng volunteered to give out her Fruit—which happened maybe once a millennium—it was by choice. The final trick. A pretty good one, even by Dorian’s lofty standards. Sun had outdone herself.

Still… She’s 15 millennia old. Dorian mouthed. She’ll see right through you.

Nah. Trust me on this one! Strangely confident from the monkey-girl. I’m good enough at lying, but this time it’s ironclad. It’s the best kind of lie—the truth! Only exaggerated juuuust a little, in all the right places.

They were nearly to the gate when Meng said it.

“Wait!”

He and Sun grinned at the same time.