Yale Leaf sidestepped the bow decisively, "No! Impossible! This is my only grandson. Though he has eight fingers, I still hope he inherits my legacy. If he's lured away by your Zither Sect, what becomes of my Bamboo Sect?"
Quentin grew anxious, "But you just said you wanted him to live an ordinary life! Why change your mind now?"
Yale Leaf countered, "Ordinary life, meaning an ordinary life within my Bamboo Sect. My grandson is the future Sect Master! If he's snatched away by your Zither Sect, where does that leave my Bamboo Sect?"
Quentin argued passionately, "Chong and Ying are still young! Are you afraid they won't have more sons? But a perfect eight-fingered birth – one in a million! Old friend, for the sake of our years of friendship, grant me this!"
Yale Leaf sighed deeply, a profound bitterness in his voice, "Not that I don't want to grant your wish... but I truly cannot. Yes, Chong and Ying are young. But... they can only ever have this one son. Ying suffered a difficult birth..." He glanced meaningfully at Maya. "You should have sensed it too. Ying is the daughter of that old Plum Blossom Sect coot. I and Old Plum Blossom summoned Lan Qing herself to deliver the child. Only thanks to Lan Qing were mother and son saved. But Lan Qing also said... Ying can never bear children again. Don't believe me? Go ask the Orchid Sect yourself."
Hearing Yale Leaf's words, Quentin slumped back into the bamboo chair, his hope dashed into despair. The feeling of seeing his greatest aspiration crumble was profoundly bitter. A long silence fell, both men lost in troubled thoughts. Just then, a clear, resonant voice called from outside the door, "Father? I heard we have a guest."