David

As they passed the first pagoda which claimed to be part of Dongjing, an involuntary shiver ran through David, starting from his lower back. Alice slipped her hand into his, lacing her fingers between his own, letting him feel her warm pulse - a contrast with the sudden cold.

"Your qi sense is admirable," said Daoist Chan. "The Dun Emperor who Pushed the Waves, a native of Minghai - he settled in Dongjing and started his dynasty here. He was known as the Castaway and, more importantly, as the Painter. He drew a circle around the Starseeking Palace, a circle that expands along with the city of Dongjing."

Chan took a deep breath and closed his eyes, taking in the sudden stillness in the air - the smell of parchment and flowers. "When you cross that circle, you can hear his voice in your qi singing along to his most famous promise, a love song to the people of the Middle continent. Dongjing, the reflection of the depths in you and me. These are the invisible lines painted in our streets."

Unlike Ping'an, there was a silence to Dongjing. Constructed mostly of wood rather than stone, the architecture itself seemed to absorb sound without echoing. This was a city that was proud of its secrets and grudges held for millenia upon millenia.

Then, with a sudden anger, Daoist Chan trained his gaze on an offending building. "Wait just a minute! How the hell did the Eight Swords of the Setting Sun school get permits to put up this fate-scorned pagoda? Look at what they've done to the view!" He threw his arms up, incensed.

In the noonday sun, David observed the pagoda and its surroundings. It was a beastly construction - a gaudy building of five stories painted in alternating rose-pink and midnight blue, neither of which were the colors of swords or the setting sun. A piece of carved stone sat above its double doors claiming it was, in fact, the Eight Swords of the Setting Sun. The carving had been filled in with a bright molten brass.

“Wow. That building is really ugly,” said David.

The pagoda was situated in the middle of a lush green field, scant steps off of the brown-brick path leading deeper into the city. Compared to the stately houses around it, the pagoda did not belong.

Firstly, it was the wrong color scheme. The houses had a classic feel to them, with vibrant, azure lettering set over rich, nut-brown wood and light grey stone.

Secondly, none of the buildings made any noise. There were the sounds of martial arts classes coming from within the pagoda - loud grunts and shouts of exertion.

Finally, while no servants manned the doors, a cultivator with a long white beard sat on the tip of the pagoda, meditating in sky blue robes.

"He looks so cool up there," said Alice, mutiny in her voice.

Daoist Li scoffed. "Any one of us could do the same. Also, we're not decrepit bags of flesh."

At this, the cultivator opened a single eye to glare at her. He'd not been meditating - he had been listening to their conversation.

"Juniors from unnamed sects," said the cultivator in a reedy voice. "Hmph!"

Alice, who looked incredibly amused, imitated him. "Hmph! Hmph! Hmph! Who does that?" She looked contemplative. "Hmph! Wow, this is kind of fun."

"Do I look like I'm from an unnamed sect to you?" Daoist Chan said, trying not to laugh. He tried out the patented cold snort himself. "Hmph!"

The cultivator gave them another look and changed his tone so quickly David nearly got whiplash. "My apologies, I did not realize that the Clear Skies sect was coming for inspections today! Can I trouble you for some tea?"

"Hmph," harrumphed Alice again, far too pleased with herself.

"We're in a hurry," said Daoist Li smoothly, dragging Daoist Chan by the collar before the man could cause a scene.

They slowed down as the outskirts slowly transitioned into a proper suburb. The houses became more packed together, but they were no less extravagant.

"The closer we are to the center of Dongjing - Winds of Spring Tower, the home of my Clear Skies, the more expensive the real estate is," said Daoist Chan. "Previously we were housed in the imperial palace, but since the Calamity and the subsequent changing of the mandate, we've built a new place for ourselves."

"Your sect made out like bandits," said Daoist Li, almost scornfully. "How you keep control over such a large city having lost your foundational scripture is a mystery to all of the Great Sects."

Chan returned her scowl. "We're not the only ones who have lost our scripture. Those dogs of Xijing at the Paper Flowers don't even remember the name of their founders. The beauties and the artists of Huzhou still fight over pieces of the Truth of Heart. The story of the Rolling Clouds requires hours to tell and has a disappointing ending."

"All I'm hearing is 'Wah! My sect doesn't compare to the better ones! Wah!'" said Daoist Li, with the sort of superior smile that David was sure Alice appreciated.

Daoist Chan looked as though he wanted to make mention of the incomprehensible Iron Scripture, but he stopped himself - and then stopped the group in front of a building with red-gold roof tiles and a proudly displayed sign proclaiming that it was the Crimson Eagle Inn.

The smell of incense-smoke and the sound of a guzheng wafted from the closed double doors of the inn. Alice looked excited.

"Do you recognize the song?" she asked, hoping any of them would, as Daoist Chan pushed the doors open.

The inn was far nicer than the one in Ping'an. The lobby was enormous, divided by thick wooden pillars into thirds. The floor was covered in a soft, blood-red carpet that made little squished sounds when they walked over it. Calligraphy hung on three walls in tasteful, broad strokes.

In Ping’an, they’d been greeted by an old innkeeper with a ratty beard. In this Dongjing hotel, behind a low counter of a deep golden-brown wood stood a shapely woman in her mid twenties, wearing a scandalously cut lilac qipao that showed her upper thigh.

Behind the woman was a gilded relief spanning the entire wall. It was a mythical scene depicting immortals on clouds to the right, and a dragon struggling in a smoking volcano to the left. Further right of the clouds and further left of the volcano were a pair of stairs. David assumed they would lead to the rooms in the inn.

The inn had no windows on this ground floor, but was lit with scores of red lanterns that gave off that musk of incense - but instead of being hot and stuffy, cool air circulated to the telltale hum of the Song beneath David's feet.

In the corner was a girl no older than ten, in the same lilacs of the woman behind the counter, sitting in a smart wooden stool and playing the guzheng, which was propped up on a stand of the same golden-brown wood.

"Zhang Jun Ling," said Daoist Li, after listening for a few moments. The General's Command. "We're not wholly without culture here on the Middle Continent," she said, with a sniff, to Alice who was no longer paying any attention to the music. She, like David, was looking around the room. Her fingers tapped out the same rhythmic flow of the qi beneath them into his palm.

The girl playing the guzheng, which was a zither with twenty-three strings - two less than the ones that David had seen on earth, smiled at Daoist Li. It was the earnest smile of a musician who knew they were appreciated. David heard the buzz of her Song - confused and hopeful and wayward and condensing. She was a cultivator.

"We would like a room for a night," said Daoist Chan as they crossed the lobby, every inch the imperious young master.

"Our humble inn could not hope to charge guests of the Clear Skies sect. You keep our city safe," said the woman in a melodious mezzo-soprano that matched her smile. Her voice carried across the lobby.

Daoist Chan laughed easily - it was a wrought sound, not like the excited giggle that tore through him in a maelstrom which had become common on their journey. "Now, now, would my brothers ever let me live it down were I to scam the good people of my hometown?"

The woman looked relieved. "Normally, we charge a hundred taels a night for our suites - please allow me to give you a discount, Daoists." She looked towards Li, who was still listening to the high, tinkling notes of The General's Command in appreciation. "The Iron Scripture sect has saved my grandfather too many times to count, how could I possibly charge you the going rate?"

Daoist Li turned her attention to the woman, sizing her up. "Our medications aren't cheap," she admitted. "We'll pay you two hundred taels. Please continue to give our sect your business and please prepare your best suite for us."

From her robes, she drew not a pile of taels but a single silver ingot that fit comfortably in her palm.

"How much for the company of your musician?" Alice asked, pointing her thumb over her shoulder - at the girl in the corner.

The woman's smile slipped. Chan and Li looked at Alice in alarm, as if seeing her in a completely new light. The girl hit a dissonant note in an arpeggio.

"My sister hasn't flowered yet," said the woman, with trembling hands. "Perhaps I would be more of interest to you?" She put on what she hoped was a seductive smile. David would characterize the smile as brave rather than sexy. It made her strangely beautiful.

Alice, who'd realized her intentions had been misread, put on her best offended sneer. "I don't want that kind of company. I want her to teach me how to play the guzheng." She tightened her grasp on David's hand to prove a point.

The tension in the innkeeper's shoulders melted away and she averted her eyes with a blush. "For you, Honored Daoist, it'll be free. It's an honor for you to believe we have anything to contribute, an honor, an honor!"

She pointed to the staircase to her left. "The top floor of the inn - the entire floor is yours for the night."

The innkeeper then turned to her little sister, who was still playing the guzheng. "Lingling!" she barked - practiced and loud. She then drooped. "Make sure you don't offend our honored guests," she said, the relief returning.

Lingling cut off her performance mid-note and stood, picking up the guzheng. It was longer than she was tall - over five feet all told, but she held it with care. The girl drew closer, staring at Alice with a deep suspicion and then abruptly burst into tears.

"She's going to eat me!" Lingling screamed.

The innkeeper looked mortified, but the girl ran behind the counter.

Alice looked nonplussed.

"Don't you hear it?" the girl continued, babbling and scared. "She's eating all of you right now. And the inn. And you," she said, pointing at David as she peeked over the counter, lowering her voice in horror. "She's eaten so much of you."

"Lingling!" shouted the innkeeper, but the girl was now sobbing.

Alice shook her head, embarassed about the situation. "It's okay if she doesn't want to teach me," she finally said. "We'll just have the room."

"Haha, yeah, okay!" said Daoist Chan, in a vain attempt to regain control. "I'm going to go greet my master now. I'll be back when the sun sets."

Daoist Li nodded. "I know my way around Dongjing. We'll have some tea and take a look around," she said, looking at the girl and at Alice.

"Make sure you're here! I know where the good roast pork is!" Daoist Chan said. In seconds, he was already out the door - happy that he wasn't paying the bill for the hotel.

Alice turned to the innkeeper. "Is she going to be okay? I'm sorry for frightening her."

The woman rubbed the girl's shoulders behind the counter. "She's frightened easily since her awakening. First in our family, we're ever so proud - we've tried to enroll her in several academies around here but she doesn't want to do anything but play her guzheng."

"Guzheng is good, school is bad," muttered the girl, hiding behind her sister's skirt.

Alice smiled incandescently, to the point the lanterns dimmed to accommodate her light. "There's nothing in the world like a foundation built of music."