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chanter1944) wrote2024-01-12 10:26 pm
chanter1944) wrote2024-01-12 10:26 pm
Entry tags:
Fiction inspired by fiction - is this counted as fanfic?
I know it's not More Joy Day in Australia any longer, but hopefully rix_scaedu gets some joy out of this finally-posted fic anyway. Yes, I'm finally posting the story inspired by his excellent Sung Nai/Tang-Ji universe. I've only been promising him the thing for ages.
This features two minor-ish but important characters in conversation. There is talk of human trafficking in the abstract, including coalescing plans to rescue people from same. Nothing gets graphic, but implications are there to be made. Also, these fellows are part of the demimonde, as it were, and there are tells to that effect. However, they may be quasi-criminals, but they're not evil.
It is not uncommon, of an afternoon, for any number of the small tables in the House Of Internal Repose to be occupied by acquaintances, friends and more, if not also by the odd strategy game between strangers convened through the influence of chance, whim or heaven. The two solid gentlemen seated at one such table have no game pieces between them, but the ease with which they converse speaks of familiarity.
"There has been--" Chow Man pauses mid sentence the better to thank the waitress who's appeared at their table, plate of mixed cakes in one hand and neatly-balanced tea tray in the other. His companion bows politely in thanks from his own chair, but doesn't break in. "... Some suggestion," Chow only continues when waitstaff have departed, tea has been poured and first cakes selected, "of an offshoot of a certain organization having recently become active in Xiamtian. More than some suggestion, I'm afraid."
Ling Tau's reply, under the circumstances, may tread the path of wisdom, or at least the path of caution. "Oh?"
"Very unfortunately," Chao Man confirms. "Connections to the Black Serpents are suspected, but even those citizens seem surprisingly unwilling to link themselves with this enterprise. One hears whispers of the city of Bao Shung and its province, and of the name Wang Chun, in particular. One hears disconcerting murmurs of that man's interests, so to speak, and of their expansion, locally. These things are not unconnected." The ensuing pause may be for effect, but may have just as much to do with a needed sip of tea, and it's Ling Tau who breaks the silence.
"One also hears, within certain circles," he says slowly, "rumors--and more than rumors--of this particular organization's upcoming and vehement rejection from this city. The Black Serpents are one thing in and of themselves, but, scruples, you know."
"Rejection of a given organization," Chow Man inquires, teacup again in hand, "or ejection of the same? Or did you mean both and anticipate the question? You're neither one to mince words nor likely to choose the wrong ones, in my experience."
"I did anticipate the question," Ling admits, one broad forefinger tracing the painted jasmine blossoms adorning his own teacup's otherwise white surface. "One generally means the other, if we're talking rejection and cities. You can hardly not eject an organization you've rejected, at least without causing a raft of other problems and a lot of inconvenience for bystanders."
"Legitimacy?" Chow Man's sparkling eyes, to say nothing of his growing grin, belie his tone. "Why, Ling Tau! I am shocked. Whatever is this world coming to?"
"Hardly, at least on its own. As I said before," returns his near-silently snickering companion, a second lotus bun now in his hand, "scruples. I also notice that you didn't say shocked and appalled when reacting to the revelation that I have them. Very telling, Chow. Granted, you might revise your opinion if I succeed in dragging you in with me on this little adventure."
The dramatic gesture this suspicion evokes, complete with clasped hands and open mouth, is not entirely ruined by the truly enormous wink dropped into the middle of its performance. The expression on the face of the passing Auntie Reng is, quite possibly, a smile composed as much of amusement as indulgence trying to appear.
"Take note, please," Chow Man says in a voice positively slathered with earnestness, "of the myriad and sundry objections to your suggestion that I am not raising. You might also take note of how much or little dragging of my person proves necessary, in the end. You scoundrel," he adds on an exhale of faux indignation that turns almost immediately into a sputter of laughter.
Ling Tau's reduced to chortling in open amusement over his tea. "Call me a filthy swine," Ling chuckles, "and I'll throw those reinforced leather gloves of yours into the ocean at the next opportunity. Though, truly, and speaking--or not speaking-of the tendency to mince words. Are you in? If, presuming, we're at the point where it's permissible we stop being comparatively delicate at each other?"
"And painfully polite at each other," his friend agrees. "Or laughing at each other--though if we're ever honestly at a point where we're likely to entirely stop doing that, one might be justified in concern. As for your wider query, in for the planning and execution of this particular benevolent action," Chow questions, gesturing with his chosen red bean paste cake, "or in the ocean?" Ling Tau stifles a groan that might be theatrical, but then again might be genuine. This time it's Chow Man's turn to snicker.
"Curse your inevitable wordplay," Ling drawls, chasing his pronouncement with a sip of his own tea. "But if you're not bound and determined to go deep sea swimming--" He coughs slightly, then sobers. "I don't mind saying we could use your skills on this little adventure." A slight pause. "Hmm. I seem to have tagged the thing with a code phrase. Anyway, I'm not just referencing the usual, either; that business at the Riverside Terrace the other week's well and truly gotten around. Evidently, the honorable Master Ran Ku and that waitress's manager have each put about a favorable word or two regarding your, what's the most common description circulating, pleasant competence in the midst of trying circumstances? If we're going into what it sounds like we might be, and by we I mean those of us already agreed to this endeavor, genial good sense is going to be much prized. Needed, too; these are kids, Chow Man. Heaven knows how unusual they might find someone treating them with cheerful candor while fishing them out of the soup - or while doing much of anything at all, considering the straits they're in currently - but I doubt it would hurt."
"Ling Tau," Chow Man says slowly, and the corners of his mouth are both quirking upward again, "I wouldn't stake my life on it, but I'm at least reasonably certain that that's the most I've ever heard you say at one time."
What Ling laughingly calls his friend at this assertion is, at least, not a word among those generally subject to heavy censorship. One would still be ill advised to repeat it around one's esteemed elders or instructors, however.
"Said the donkey to his--never mind," returns Chow Man, utterly unphased. "This is, I suppose, where I reference the anecdotes about you now also making the rounds in certain circles? 'Kind' is a descriptor many of those have contained, 'supportive' another - I beg your pardon for potentially maligning your character again, but apparently the student of Shui Tsu Dan liked you, and that Gow Sien Tong fellow was on a roll - and whether or not I confirm or deny such things when I hear them--! Ahem. I was not the one letting someone cry on my shoulder, friend Ling, without a moment's unease, and if we're speaking of prized qualities when dealing with shaken people..." He straightens in his chair and faces his companion squarely. "That's a roundabout way of saying that of course I'm in when it comes to this rejection/ejection thing, if we've both had enough of topical verbal caution for today, and if we're both reconciled to the varied truths of our natures, for better or worse. To borrow a turn of phrase Elder Sister Chow Lu brought home from her university studies years ago, let's be damned for what we really are, eh?"
"If that reference is from the translation of a northern television series I think it is," Ling Tau replies, "the actor was from Anletere, even though there was a great deal of emphasis placed on his character having been born and raised in Fanxia. A pause, and a smirk that's not at all unkind. "He's got the sentiment right, though, whatever his origins. So has your elder sister, seeing as she was the person initially quoting that line. And so have you." Dodging the compliments that have just been paid him, by proxy and otherwise? Why never. Of course not. But absolutely.
"The fact that you go in for fiction of this certain nature," grins Chow Man, "earns you another several points with me. So does your recognition of a casual quote from the first episode of the first season; the specific wording used does rather tell, if one knows it. That doesn't even address your approval of my sister, though I do think you two might get along; she's a registered court representative. I can't give details, obviously, because one, I wouldn't on simple principle and two, neither can she, but she has a tendency to represent, and here I'm speaking entirely hypothetically, day laborers unfairly deprived of wages by unscrupulous employers, or apprentices mistreated by their masters in defiance of the protective language in their contracts. That type of situation, if not those exact circumstances."
"Thank you, friend Chow," Ling Tau says simply, "for both your broader and narrower answers. Please don't ask me to elaborate on my earnestness here; I'll embarrass myself." He does, whatever his admission of verbal shortcomings, bow fairly deeply in his companion's direction without rising from his chair. "I do," he adds, "also think I might like your elder sister. Her work speaks for itself, by the description you've given me, even before we factor in her taste in mostly-excellent fiction."
"Mostly excellent?" Chow Man inquires, teacup in hand. By the quirk of his eyebrows and his curious expression, he may have just been diverted slightly from whatever else he had been about to say.
"One instance in the first season, and another in the second," Ling Tau replies. "Two poorly-handled departures, one return, and one act of senseless--never mind, though I expect you understand precisely the references I've just made. Plus the usual clunkers that can't be blamed in their entirety on poor translation, but what series hasn't got two or three of those to its name?"
"Each and every one," Chow Man confirms, "if we're speaking of recognitions, though I'll not name them outright. I'd prefer not to curse, publicly, to the degree that several of those references deserve. As for poor translation or not, you've a valid point; sometimes I wonder just what the writer of the original phrasing of a thing might have been thinking, and occasionally if they were thinking at all. Here I include programming first aired in Tang-Jian, whether or not it's since been offered in other languages, as well as foreign originations. For a pertinent example, my elder and younger brother are both enamored with Ghost Wolf as a series, they have a tendency to watch new episodes together while we're all visiting our parents, and as for wooden lines--I ask you." His last sentence is absolutely capped by a smile that might also reasonably double as a wince.
Ling Tau's huff of amused understanding can be mistaken for absolutely nothing else. "Feel free to vent your metaphorical spleen on any one of those subjects later," he says. "I'll likely agree with you. Including the cursing, if you feel like going down that road - or those roads, depending on how you want to phrase things. Speaking of phrasing! And, Ghost Wolf? Hmm. The premise itself is an interesting one, though you're entirely correct that from within their script writers' room sprouts a forest.." Ling rolls his eyes, rotating his teacup delicately clockwise in one hand's careful fingers.
"That's not a forest, friend Ling," Chow Man chuckles, making a long arm across the table that results in the second-to-last red bean paste cake coming into his possession. "That's a positive lumber mill in vigorous operation, despite the premise that I admit does intrigue. You'd think someone would complain. You'd think more than one someone would complain, given how the issue persists week to week."
"You'd think those in authority over the series's creation and production would take notice of complaints," Ling Tau replies dryly. "And yet, here we are."
"And yet," Chow Man agrees on another slight chuckle, "here we are, and that, my friend, is an excellent segue as well as applicable to both strands of this conversation."
"Don't blame me," Ling Tau says with a smirk utterly lacking in the cruel elements that can at times accompany such expressions although, to those who know Mr. Ling in more than passing, it should be noted that those elements are generally seen on the faces of other people. "I only said it initially. You elaborated. Credit or blame goes to you, friend Chow."
"Indeed," Chow snickers, "credit or blame or, honestly, both, are mine. It's true, to deny either would be a lie." Then he sobers. "I assume you'll keep me apprised of the details of, say, applicable times and dates, necessary items to have in one's pockets, and similar as regard this venture of ours," he says, "once such specifics become known." It is not, in its entirety or even its majority, a question.
"Of course." Ling Tau answers that question in a matter-of-fact and even, one might say, warm tone, regardless of whether or not Chow Man's words were intended as a query, and what's more raises his teacup in what could be interpreted, should anyone be observing the details of this conversation reasonably closely, as half a toast.
Chow Man, deliberately and casually, matches the salute with his own cup of tea.
rix_scaedu gets some joy out of this finally-posted fic anyway. Yes, I'm finally posting the story inspired by his excellent Sung Nai/Tang-Ji universe. I've only been promising him the thing for ages. This features two minor-ish but important characters in conversation. There is talk of human trafficking in the abstract, including coalescing plans to rescue people from same. Nothing gets graphic, but implications are there to be made. Also, these fellows are part of the demimonde, as it were, and there are tells to that effect. However, they may be quasi-criminals, but they're not evil.
It is not uncommon, of an afternoon, for any number of the small tables in the House Of Internal Repose to be occupied by acquaintances, friends and more, if not also by the odd strategy game between strangers convened through the influence of chance, whim or heaven. The two solid gentlemen seated at one such table have no game pieces between them, but the ease with which they converse speaks of familiarity.
"There has been--" Chow Man pauses mid sentence the better to thank the waitress who's appeared at their table, plate of mixed cakes in one hand and neatly-balanced tea tray in the other. His companion bows politely in thanks from his own chair, but doesn't break in. "... Some suggestion," Chow only continues when waitstaff have departed, tea has been poured and first cakes selected, "of an offshoot of a certain organization having recently become active in Xiamtian. More than some suggestion, I'm afraid."
Ling Tau's reply, under the circumstances, may tread the path of wisdom, or at least the path of caution. "Oh?"
"Very unfortunately," Chao Man confirms. "Connections to the Black Serpents are suspected, but even those citizens seem surprisingly unwilling to link themselves with this enterprise. One hears whispers of the city of Bao Shung and its province, and of the name Wang Chun, in particular. One hears disconcerting murmurs of that man's interests, so to speak, and of their expansion, locally. These things are not unconnected." The ensuing pause may be for effect, but may have just as much to do with a needed sip of tea, and it's Ling Tau who breaks the silence.
"One also hears, within certain circles," he says slowly, "rumors--and more than rumors--of this particular organization's upcoming and vehement rejection from this city. The Black Serpents are one thing in and of themselves, but, scruples, you know."
"Rejection of a given organization," Chow Man inquires, teacup again in hand, "or ejection of the same? Or did you mean both and anticipate the question? You're neither one to mince words nor likely to choose the wrong ones, in my experience."
"I did anticipate the question," Ling admits, one broad forefinger tracing the painted jasmine blossoms adorning his own teacup's otherwise white surface. "One generally means the other, if we're talking rejection and cities. You can hardly not eject an organization you've rejected, at least without causing a raft of other problems and a lot of inconvenience for bystanders."
"Legitimacy?" Chow Man's sparkling eyes, to say nothing of his growing grin, belie his tone. "Why, Ling Tau! I am shocked. Whatever is this world coming to?"
"Hardly, at least on its own. As I said before," returns his near-silently snickering companion, a second lotus bun now in his hand, "scruples. I also notice that you didn't say shocked and appalled when reacting to the revelation that I have them. Very telling, Chow. Granted, you might revise your opinion if I succeed in dragging you in with me on this little adventure."
The dramatic gesture this suspicion evokes, complete with clasped hands and open mouth, is not entirely ruined by the truly enormous wink dropped into the middle of its performance. The expression on the face of the passing Auntie Reng is, quite possibly, a smile composed as much of amusement as indulgence trying to appear.
"Take note, please," Chow Man says in a voice positively slathered with earnestness, "of the myriad and sundry objections to your suggestion that I am not raising. You might also take note of how much or little dragging of my person proves necessary, in the end. You scoundrel," he adds on an exhale of faux indignation that turns almost immediately into a sputter of laughter.
Ling Tau's reduced to chortling in open amusement over his tea. "Call me a filthy swine," Ling chuckles, "and I'll throw those reinforced leather gloves of yours into the ocean at the next opportunity. Though, truly, and speaking--or not speaking-of the tendency to mince words. Are you in? If, presuming, we're at the point where it's permissible we stop being comparatively delicate at each other?"
"And painfully polite at each other," his friend agrees. "Or laughing at each other--though if we're ever honestly at a point where we're likely to entirely stop doing that, one might be justified in concern. As for your wider query, in for the planning and execution of this particular benevolent action," Chow questions, gesturing with his chosen red bean paste cake, "or in the ocean?" Ling Tau stifles a groan that might be theatrical, but then again might be genuine. This time it's Chow Man's turn to snicker.
"Curse your inevitable wordplay," Ling drawls, chasing his pronouncement with a sip of his own tea. "But if you're not bound and determined to go deep sea swimming--" He coughs slightly, then sobers. "I don't mind saying we could use your skills on this little adventure." A slight pause. "Hmm. I seem to have tagged the thing with a code phrase. Anyway, I'm not just referencing the usual, either; that business at the Riverside Terrace the other week's well and truly gotten around. Evidently, the honorable Master Ran Ku and that waitress's manager have each put about a favorable word or two regarding your, what's the most common description circulating, pleasant competence in the midst of trying circumstances? If we're going into what it sounds like we might be, and by we I mean those of us already agreed to this endeavor, genial good sense is going to be much prized. Needed, too; these are kids, Chow Man. Heaven knows how unusual they might find someone treating them with cheerful candor while fishing them out of the soup - or while doing much of anything at all, considering the straits they're in currently - but I doubt it would hurt."
"Ling Tau," Chow Man says slowly, and the corners of his mouth are both quirking upward again, "I wouldn't stake my life on it, but I'm at least reasonably certain that that's the most I've ever heard you say at one time."
What Ling laughingly calls his friend at this assertion is, at least, not a word among those generally subject to heavy censorship. One would still be ill advised to repeat it around one's esteemed elders or instructors, however.
"Said the donkey to his--never mind," returns Chow Man, utterly unphased. "This is, I suppose, where I reference the anecdotes about you now also making the rounds in certain circles? 'Kind' is a descriptor many of those have contained, 'supportive' another - I beg your pardon for potentially maligning your character again, but apparently the student of Shui Tsu Dan liked you, and that Gow Sien Tong fellow was on a roll - and whether or not I confirm or deny such things when I hear them--! Ahem. I was not the one letting someone cry on my shoulder, friend Ling, without a moment's unease, and if we're speaking of prized qualities when dealing with shaken people..." He straightens in his chair and faces his companion squarely. "That's a roundabout way of saying that of course I'm in when it comes to this rejection/ejection thing, if we've both had enough of topical verbal caution for today, and if we're both reconciled to the varied truths of our natures, for better or worse. To borrow a turn of phrase Elder Sister Chow Lu brought home from her university studies years ago, let's be damned for what we really are, eh?"
"If that reference is from the translation of a northern television series I think it is," Ling Tau replies, "the actor was from Anletere, even though there was a great deal of emphasis placed on his character having been born and raised in Fanxia. A pause, and a smirk that's not at all unkind. "He's got the sentiment right, though, whatever his origins. So has your elder sister, seeing as she was the person initially quoting that line. And so have you." Dodging the compliments that have just been paid him, by proxy and otherwise? Why never. Of course not. But absolutely.
"The fact that you go in for fiction of this certain nature," grins Chow Man, "earns you another several points with me. So does your recognition of a casual quote from the first episode of the first season; the specific wording used does rather tell, if one knows it. That doesn't even address your approval of my sister, though I do think you two might get along; she's a registered court representative. I can't give details, obviously, because one, I wouldn't on simple principle and two, neither can she, but she has a tendency to represent, and here I'm speaking entirely hypothetically, day laborers unfairly deprived of wages by unscrupulous employers, or apprentices mistreated by their masters in defiance of the protective language in their contracts. That type of situation, if not those exact circumstances."
"Thank you, friend Chow," Ling Tau says simply, "for both your broader and narrower answers. Please don't ask me to elaborate on my earnestness here; I'll embarrass myself." He does, whatever his admission of verbal shortcomings, bow fairly deeply in his companion's direction without rising from his chair. "I do," he adds, "also think I might like your elder sister. Her work speaks for itself, by the description you've given me, even before we factor in her taste in mostly-excellent fiction."
"Mostly excellent?" Chow Man inquires, teacup in hand. By the quirk of his eyebrows and his curious expression, he may have just been diverted slightly from whatever else he had been about to say.
"One instance in the first season, and another in the second," Ling Tau replies. "Two poorly-handled departures, one return, and one act of senseless--never mind, though I expect you understand precisely the references I've just made. Plus the usual clunkers that can't be blamed in their entirety on poor translation, but what series hasn't got two or three of those to its name?"
"Each and every one," Chow Man confirms, "if we're speaking of recognitions, though I'll not name them outright. I'd prefer not to curse, publicly, to the degree that several of those references deserve. As for poor translation or not, you've a valid point; sometimes I wonder just what the writer of the original phrasing of a thing might have been thinking, and occasionally if they were thinking at all. Here I include programming first aired in Tang-Jian, whether or not it's since been offered in other languages, as well as foreign originations. For a pertinent example, my elder and younger brother are both enamored with Ghost Wolf as a series, they have a tendency to watch new episodes together while we're all visiting our parents, and as for wooden lines--I ask you." His last sentence is absolutely capped by a smile that might also reasonably double as a wince.
Ling Tau's huff of amused understanding can be mistaken for absolutely nothing else. "Feel free to vent your metaphorical spleen on any one of those subjects later," he says. "I'll likely agree with you. Including the cursing, if you feel like going down that road - or those roads, depending on how you want to phrase things. Speaking of phrasing! And, Ghost Wolf? Hmm. The premise itself is an interesting one, though you're entirely correct that from within their script writers' room sprouts a forest.." Ling rolls his eyes, rotating his teacup delicately clockwise in one hand's careful fingers.
"That's not a forest, friend Ling," Chow Man chuckles, making a long arm across the table that results in the second-to-last red bean paste cake coming into his possession. "That's a positive lumber mill in vigorous operation, despite the premise that I admit does intrigue. You'd think someone would complain. You'd think more than one someone would complain, given how the issue persists week to week."
"You'd think those in authority over the series's creation and production would take notice of complaints," Ling Tau replies dryly. "And yet, here we are."
"And yet," Chow Man agrees on another slight chuckle, "here we are, and that, my friend, is an excellent segue as well as applicable to both strands of this conversation."
"Don't blame me," Ling Tau says with a smirk utterly lacking in the cruel elements that can at times accompany such expressions although, to those who know Mr. Ling in more than passing, it should be noted that those elements are generally seen on the faces of other people. "I only said it initially. You elaborated. Credit or blame goes to you, friend Chow."
"Indeed," Chow snickers, "credit or blame or, honestly, both, are mine. It's true, to deny either would be a lie." Then he sobers. "I assume you'll keep me apprised of the details of, say, applicable times and dates, necessary items to have in one's pockets, and similar as regard this venture of ours," he says, "once such specifics become known." It is not, in its entirety or even its majority, a question.
"Of course." Ling Tau answers that question in a matter-of-fact and even, one might say, warm tone, regardless of whether or not Chow Man's words were intended as a query, and what's more raises his teacup in what could be interpreted, should anyone be observing the details of this conversation reasonably closely, as half a toast.
Chow Man, deliberately and casually, matches the salute with his own cup of tea.