David

Jiang Xiangyue let out a long sigh when David finished his composition - a sound that coincided with the low rumble of thunder in the distance. He sat in silence, contemplating the poem, and then broke it with a soft laugh.

"Very well," Xiangyue said. "I've been appropriately chastised. It is of poor taste to seek vengeance when your only crime was self-defense, especially if it was my own descendant who desecrated the grave of my beloved."

David let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"We met as enemies," said Xiangyue, "and we do not leave as friends. Do not make that mistake." His voice was soft, but it carried the hint of a threat. "But you may consider the karma between us fully settled. Tomorrow, we may yet cross swords or drink at the same table. Today, you will leave my city."

David nodded. This was, in short, the best that he could have hoped for.

Alice, however, was never the sort of girl to take an inch when she could seize a mile. "Do you have any advice for us?" she asked, smiling prettily.

Xiangyue was not charmed and sought to prove it by setting his lips into a thin line, but David caught the slightest hint of fondness in his eyes. "You already know what you must do."

"The Fourth String," Alice mused, considering the saber's name and everything else about it. She tilted her head to the side. "Say, why is it you can't..." she trailed off.

Xiangyue stared at her flatly. "You want me to track it down and return it to you."

Alice's smile returned, a little devious. "Wouldn't that be for the good of our sect?"

The immortal laughed, long and loud. "Our sect? The vows haven't been taken and the pillar is no longer whole."

Alice looked disappointed - and ready to argue, but Xiangyue lost all trace of humor. "More importantly, do you realize exactly what you've asked of me? Even if I had the right to accept your claim, I would still deny your request."

Her brow furrowed. "I don't follow."

Jiang Xiangyue crossed his arms. "Tell me, what is the difference between the act of gifting and the act of bestowal?"

Alice's frown deepened.

"I'll save you the effort," Xiangyue said. "I always hated it when master asked me questions I couldn't possibly know the answer to."

There was a smirk on his face - a sure sign that he knew this was what would annoy Alice the most.

"A gift is given with no thought of reciprocity - or that's the idea, at least. There are many times when people give what they call gifts in bad faith. To bestow something upon another," Xiangyue said, changing his tone to something more grave, "is to expect services in return. This is something that the higher houses and Palaces up above do often."

He gestured at the sky.

"It's a raw deal. Many of my seniors are beholden to these bestowals and have become dogs." There was clear distaste on his face. "This is because bestowal creates a binding karmic link between the giver and the recipient."

"I don't believe in karma," said Alice, rebelliously - childishly, even.

"Good," said Jiang Xiangyue. "It is a whimsical concept that is often twisted into a vile tool. Unfortunately, once you start believing in it, it's hard to stop."

It was David who worked it out first. "If you were to reclaim the saber," he hazarded, "it wouldn't belong to Alice anymore. Or, even if you didn't want it, you'd be responsible for it in some way."

Xiangyue nodded.

Alice glared. "Isn't the question of gifting and bestowal a bit of a nonsequitur?"

He smiled at her. "Of course, but it illustrates my point thoroughly."

The glare sharpened, then became something more contemplative. "Is there some sort of hint that you can give us, then?" Alice looked unhappy, already expecting nothing.

But Xiangyue nodded. "On this continent, it's often the case that great treasures will find their way to the many treasure pavilions of Dongjing." The Eastern Capital - not a very creative name.

"And how far are we from Dongjing?" Alice asked.

The immortal shrugged. "A few minutes or a few days, depending on how fast you travel."

She folded her arms.

"It's a few hundred li to the northwest," said Xiangyue, relenting.

He then looked annoyed. "You've worn out your welcome." He pointed at the docks. "Leave. My grandchildren are working up the courage to ask me if I would reconsider my decision," he said, with palpable disgust.

David looked at Elder Shu, whose grief had turned cold and angry, and Jiang Shangtian, whose hands were balled into fists. They were the only two on the stone of the courtyard - the rest of the Jiang family stood with the guests and service workers far from them. Not a single soul met his eyes, with the exception of Jiang Sanli - a waitress. Xiangyue’s disgust seemed well-earned.

David and Alice walked together towards the docks with unfriendly eyes on their backs and stepped onto a small wooden boat together. There was a short, sharp whistle that David knew had come from the immortal and the boat began to move.

Alice stood, rocking the boat with a sudden danger. "Thank you, Uncle Jiang! I hope we meet again." She sounded more self-satisfied than thankful.

An indignant, incredulous voice answered her, carrying across the waters. "Uncle? I'll have you know I'm not even twenty thousand years old! How dare you!"

The boat followed the currents of the river and stopped with a bump against the northernmost dock of the city, where they disembarked, hand in hand.

"You feel any different?" Alice asked, in English.

"Nope," said David. "Should I?"

Alice shrugged and leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "That could have turned out way worse than it did."

They began to travel once more, in their robes of light grey silk with ridiculous sleeves. Alice's guqin was stuffed securely in its case and slung over her back. David held onto his flute, still wishing he’d taken the book of flute scores back at the temple with him.

David and Alice continued onwards, with a destination in mind but adrift in spirit, speaking softly in a language only they knew - seventeen years of age, and with many more yet than they'd thought possible.

The city of Ping'an had no walls and boasted many generations who’d walked beneath the protection of the Jiang family. It was a city far older than New York, older than Rome and Beijing and Athens together - but in this world, it was considered young.

When David looked over his shoulder, he could see a pillar split in two rising into the sky. It stood taller than the buildings of Ping’an and older than the trees which became more and more common as they continued to walk north and west along a winding road.

They walked at a comfortable pace, same as the one they’d taken eastward from Cloud Mountain City, but other travellers on the road exposed a startling truth. They easily passed horses at full gallop and sped past buildings in the blink of an eye. Only children would spare them a second glance - but they were quieted by their parents who preferred to avoid the trouble of cultivators.

As they walked on, the road became more winding still and passed over hills with many caves and clear streams with many fish. Unlike the road leading from Cloud Mountain to Sky River, this one was well-maintained and better travelled. From some of the caves, a faint cold strain of the Song wafted outwards.

"Do you think Wen's going to pop out of one of those?" David asked, hoping that saying his name wouldn't summon him.

"Hello, Path Friends!" Alice declared, parroting Wen’s campy lilt. Her laughter tinkled merrily. She turned somber. "I hope he's okay," she said, thinking of the sword she'd pulled out of his chest and the ominous chant that was the Four Stitches Sutra.

David scoffed. "As if getting rid of someone like that would be so easy. I'm half expecting to see him at the next inn."

The sun had taken most of its journey across the sky already and was now blood orange.

"He said he needed to find a crypt to replenish his lost Yin energy - those were his exact words," said Alice.

"I wish I knew what Yin energy was," she said, looking regretful. "And I wish we had more time to ask that immortal about, well, everything. Something changed after I played Rain in Jiangnan, and I'm not quite sure what."

David heard the sound of silkworms for a moment. It vanished immediately, sending Alice into a deeper contemplation.

Silkworms, then silence. Silkworms, then silence. Silkworms-

"You're driving me nuts," David said, a little irritated. "I can hear that, you know?"

Alice frowned. "You don't have to listen to it." She paused. "Wait, do you? What exactly do you hear anyway?"

"Chittering. Crunching. Chewing. It was quite scary at first," said David, "but it fades into the background after a while. But not if you keep doing that."

"You don't hear the Stories?" Alice asked, looking surprised. "You don't hear words?"

David shook his head. "Not that I can understand. It just sounds like the mulberry grove," he said. He smiled at her, a little sardonically. "Didn't you say you hated mulberries?"

Alice ignored his question and asked one of her own. "What did Uncle Jiang sound like?"

"Like waves crashing on the rocks, like the morning tide."

Alice nodded in agreement. "And Jiang Tiankong?"

David shook his head. "Like everyone else, but with-"

"With a different, discrete conflicting component," Alice finished.

"Say that three times, fast."

Alice gave him a light shove.

They walked on in silence, until Alice stopped suddenly. "It's not going away anymore," she said, sounding excited. A rapture invaded her features. "It's mine. It's here to stay. A Story of my very own."

David opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, but she was a million miles away, deep in thought. Without anything better to do, he listened to the sound of the Song. As he expected, there was the steady, constant rhythmic beating that he'd confused for the beating of his own heart what felt like a lifetime ago in that ruined library. He listened for subtle changes that he might not have noticed before and when he couldn't hear any, he stopped.

To his surprise, it didn't fade away like he'd slowly turned a volume dial down to nothing.

"We come and go from Cloud Mountain's village. In peace we carry on, dispersing, teaching. Heroes must always rush in fist first, making a scene in front of Sect Aunt's grave," he muttered. This was the poem that he had been forced to compose by Jiang Xiangyue, who had been every bit as unreasonable as Cao Pi from the story behind the Quatrain of the Seven Steps.

There was a blooming, secondary rhythm which had settled beneath his stomach and over his groin.

Before he could consider the significance of this, Alice suddenly tugged at his sleeve to snap him out of his reverie. "You feel that?"

It was the Song, more accurately a pair of Songs - ones which he almost recognized, from a distance.

"Were we followed?" Alice asked, looking more displeased than scared. There wasn't a trace of that particular tidal flavor of the immortal's Song.

As it drew closer, it became louder. David turned around, back in the direction of Ping'an. The sun had not quite set yet - the pair of long shadows they cast were pointing directly at a plume of dust behind them. In the distance, there were two blots of color which rapidly increased in size - pale yellow and slate grey, rather than the light red of the Jiang family's robes.

In no time at all, they were close enough for David to recognize them. "People from the core formation ceremony," he said to Alice. "Guests who were actually invited." The corners of his lips quirked upwards.

Daoist Chan and Daoist Li skidded to a halt in front of them.

"Hello, Path Friends!" David said, bright and cheery, before he could stop himself. He was beginning to understand why Wen was so Wen.

Alice was far more blunt. "Why are you here?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

It was clear from their surprise that they were not, in fact, following them. Neither of them seemed to know how they were supposed to react to the drastically disparate welcomes. Luckily, Alice's expression softened when she realized they looked closer to petrified than confrontational.

David could understand Daoist Li's trepidation - she had been instrumental in igniting the conflict between him and Jiang Tiankong, but Daoist Chan's only crime was watching the fight.

"Hello, wise and benevolent Daoist Chang Wen," said Chan Changshou, nervous beyond all reason. "Hello, pure and beautiful Fairy of the True Sutra sect. Where are your esteemed selves headed?"

David suddenly remembered that he'd said something fairly rude about Alice.

Alice, who had not heard Daoist Li egging Jiang Tiankong on, nor Daoist Chan referring to her as a whore, brightened. "That's not really his name," she said. "And we're not actually affiliated with the True Sutra, or any sect for that matter." She played with her nails.

"Well, at least not any sect that would claim us," Alice amended. She looked towards David, to see if there was any hint of warning on his face. "We're headed to Dongjing, if this is the way."

There wasn't anything Alice enjoyed more than basking in shock.

Daoist Li looked at their robes, just shy of skeptical, before she nodded suddenly. "You've run away from your sect," she guessed. She lowered her voice, as if someone might hear. "Dongjing is where the immortal sent you," she said, recalling the very public conversation they'd had with Jiang Xiangyue.

Alice shook her head, with a satisfied grin. "We've never been accepted by any sect as disciples." She ignored the unspoken questions about their destination, to David's relief. It was clear that Daoist Li's pretense that she didn't remember everything the Jiang patriarch had said was a matter of politeness. How much of it she understood remained to be seen.

"How is that possible?" Daoist Chan asked, shaking his head. "To be this progressed in your cultivation at such a young age is a fever dream even amongst the most talented cultivators of the realm."

He stopped. "Congratulations on your fortuitous encounter, fellow Daoists," Chan said, sober and formal. "To choose the path in conflict with an immortal is the subject of legend."

"Congratulations on your fortuitous encounter, fellow Daoists," Li echoed, slipping into a well practiced and wooden propriety. "Your struggle has enlightened this student. Your example will undoubtedly hasten my own Foundation Establishment by a decade. When master said that life experience would do more than closed door cultivation, I thought age had rotted his brain. I will have to apologize to him."

Daoist Chan's excitement overtook the remnants of his fear. "What does starting Core Formation feel like?"

Alice, who'd gotten a lot of practice in pretending she knew what she was talking about, shrugged with an affected modesty.

"It's about what you'd expect," she said, as if she hadn't spent the last hour and a half driving David crazy by adjusting her Song like a child who'd just gotten a radio for Christmas. "Nothing's really changed."

Daoist Chan looked a little disappointed. "I suppose the big change will come when you finish forming your Core. The Clear Skies have many texts that describe the wonder of Core Formation, but few that mention the success of establishing a foundation."

His excitement grew. "You said you weren't affiliated with a sect - have you thought of joining one?"

Alice, who'd scammed some friendly villagers for coin and a glowing letter of recommendation, tilted her head from side to side. "I've not encountered a sect that's really caught my eye, to be honest."

Daoist Chan nodded sagely. "It was wise to not join just any sect. Sects are not equal. For example, Jiang Tiankong belonged to the Red Wind - which boasts no history. Their sect master," he started, looking derisive, "would count as the mediocre disciple of an unsuccessful elder in my own Clear Skies sect. That is why the Clear Skies is known as one of the Nine Great Sects in our beautiful Middle Continent. There is always room in the Clear Skies for the talented."

Daoist Li, who was trying to make her amusement more and more obvious as he finished his pitch, realized that no one was going to acknowledge her disdain, so she spoke up. "The Clear Skies sect isn't even amongst the better half of the Nine Great Sects, and Daoist Chan is only an inner disciple with little to no influence over the decisions made in his sect."

They'd begun walking together as a group of four some time ago, along the winding road. The sun had set some time ago but the night was clear and bright.

"Regardless," said Daoist Li, "you'll be able to figure out for yourself if the Clear Skies is the right place for you when we reach Dongjing. His sect is the crown jewel of that City of a Hundred Schools, however few remain."

Chan Changshou didn't even bother looking offended. His face held nothing but pride under the light of the moon. "There are few places as cultured and fewer still as old as Dongjing. It is the City of a Hundred Schools because that is how many remain at a given time, this is true - but for every school which has survived, there are another hundred which have not in its long history. See for yourself. We'll be there before noon."