David

He heard Daoist Chan before he could see him. In the muted night of Dongjing, the rustle of fireflies did nothing to obscure conversations from blocks away. David could hear the sounds of life through the walls - parents disciplining children, couples having arguments about money and, to his chagrin, excited moans and fumbling.

Daoist Li made a motion for them to slow down, to listen in on the familiar voice complaining to Daoist Chan.

"I'm so glad I've run into you, Brother Changshou!"

"Calm down, Qiaoqiao. Being distressed isn't good for your cultivation. Now, wipe away those tears and tell this daddy who's been bullying you."

"I can't!" said Daoist Qiao. On the wind, David heard the tinkling of chimes. Maple leaves fell in a swirl about the city.

"Does anyone in the world scare Daoist Chan Changshou? Tell me who's made you cry and I will make them regret living."

"Brother Changshou, would you say we had a special relationship?"

"Of course, Qiaoqiao. You're my most precious junior sister! Don't you forget it."

The wailing increased in volume.

As they drew closer, David could see the figures he expected facing the hotel. Daoist Chan cut a heroic figure by starlight. His hair was long and glossy and his jade hairpiece flashed in the moon. Daoist Qiao had long legs and a willowy waist illuminated by the incandescent swarms of fireflies as she leaned into Chan Changshou.

"They were cultivators," she whispered. "And they seemed far more powerful than me. I'm sorry I failed you, Brother Changshou. It's been so hard to concentrate on my cultivation since you've been away on business."

David didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look as angry as Daoist Li.

"When I find these cultivators who have bullied you, I'll strangle them, as sure as summer rain."

"Oh, will you now, Brother Changshou?" In the cool autumn night, little puffs of condensation plumed from Daoist Li's nostrils, giving David the impression of an angry bull.

Daoist Chan looked from his triumphant junior sister to the livid Li and put two and two together and the aggression in his posture fled. "Daoist Li, what is this about you bullying my junior sister?" asked Brother Changshou, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Yes, yes, your most precious junior sister,” said Daoist Li. “How long have the two of you been together?”

Daoist Chan shook his head, unable to believe this was happening - something that Li took to mean that they weren’t, in fact, together.

“I see. So you’re just friends,” she said.

Daoist Chan nodded but he was now irritated. “Don’t think I won’t stop you from messing with my… friend,” he finished lamely. Qiao pressed herself against him - something that elicited a sharp bark of laughter from Li.

“Are you ashamed of me, Brother Changshou?” muttered Daoist Qiao, tears streaming.

“You’re going to ruin your makeup,” said Alice. Qiao glared at her, but she chose to wipe away her tears quickly with Chan’s sleeves.

“Qiaoqiao, how could I possibly be ashamed of you,” Daoist Chan said, petting the girl’s head.

“Qiaoqiao, how could I possibly be ashamed of you,” mocked Daoist Li, spitting mad.

Chan drew the still-sobbing girl tighter against his chest. “I will strangle you,” he growled over Qiao, his Song rising.

“Do it!” Li screamed. “That’ll be four of us left alive from that little group, then.”

Her words smothered his qi like a wet blanket. Chan’s arms dropped to his side as he deflated. “Go home, Qiaoqiao.”

“Brother Changshou?” she queried, looking up at Chan.

“I’ll visit you later. Go.”

The girl paused, unwilling to let go. But when she realized that Daoist Chan was entirely serious, she drew away from him and threw a hateful glare at Daoist Li, before stalking off along the brown-brick road towards Winds of Spring Tower.

“Are you really going to strangle her?” asked Alice, excited.

“I was joking about that,” sighed Changshou.

“... unless,” said Alice. David waggled his eyebrows at Daoist Li.

Daoist Li, who had learned to ignore the stranger parts of David and Alice’s personalities, walked over to Chan and placed her hands on his shoulders. He looked hopeful. She leaned in close. “I hate you,” she hissed.

“I hope you’re stuck in that bottleneck for another decade,” Chan snapped, jerking away from her.

“I hope you never make it to Core Disciple!”

The sound of the Song rose from Daoist Chan again.

“Aren’t you two old friends? Path Friends shouldn’t fight with one another!” said Alice, covering her mouth in horror. David thought this was probably what Daoist Li deserved after that display in front of Jiang Tiankong, but they were friends now, so he decided to defuse the situation.

“I think that’s enough for now,” said David, his own Song stirring.

Chan and Li froze. Alice, who was used to the sound of David’s Song, hummed along merrily, bobbing her head.

“I did say I was going to take you to a nice restaurant,” said Daoist Chan. His Song faded.

Alice nodded happily. “I love pork roast!”

They walked along the brown-brick road. Daoist Chan told a story about a mission from his first days as an Inner Disciple, running through the slums of Minghai with the Healing Hands Scripture, keeping it safe from a Southern Continent demon cult.

“And of course the Princess of Damnation took one look at me and ceased her disgusting activities immediately! But we crossed swords - yes we did. I might have held the Healing Hands Scripture in my breast pocket, but as a student of the White Letters, my Dao Heart - it could not take the insult of her existence, so we had to duel.”

“You don’t have a Dao Heart because you don’t have a Principle,” said Daoist Li, patiently and angrily.

“Right, right, of course. It’s just an expression,” he said, waving her comment away. “Anyway, the ever-beautiful Princess of Damnation saw my lustrous Yang body and her heart was moved, as I was saying.”

“The Princess of Damnation has the body of a woman and the head of a vulture,” explained Daoist Li.

“She was a fair maiden!” protested Chan Changshou.

“Then she wasn’t the Princess of Damnation.”

“Anyway, I lost the Healing Hands Scripture to her swordplay and now the Yellow Demon Cult’s on the rise,” finished Daoist Chan. “But I got away with my life!”

Alice stopped to stare at him.

“What? The hero doesn’t always win,” Daoist Chan said. “Geopolitically speaking, as far as I’m concerned, there are a multitude of reasons for the rise of the Yellow Demon Cult - and it’s been that way for thirty years,” he finished.

They stopped in front of a three-storied pagoda with a single word emblazoned on a plaque over the door, an imperative - Eat. The everpresent red lanterns were hung in every available spot.

“This is the Hall of Foods,” said Daoist Chan. A simple name for a pretentious restaurant. “But this is where you can get the best meals in Dongjing.”

“You took us here when we were young. Me and Zhu and the rest,” said Daoist Li. “I found you attractive then, because I didn’t know who you were.”

Chan scowled. “I’m the pinnacle of male perfection now, woman,” he growled, wounded by Alice’s placid smile.

The door to the Hall of Foods was not a door, but a piece of gauzy red silk like the jiulu in Ping’an.

“Four,” said Chan to a bubbly waitress who approached them. She led them to a rounded table of pine - gleaming and well polished but obviously old.

As David sat, Chan became their tour guide once more. “Emperors and empresses, princes from many ages, they’ve all sat here,” he said. “Order wine - the chef will pair food with it.”

Alice nodded at the waitress, suddenly looking devious. “I’ll have the Hundred Grass Wine. Is there a cup you can recommend for me?”

The waitress trembled. “Forgive me, I’m uneducated, Fairy. What cup would you suggest?”

Alice sighed, realizing that the waitress wasn’t Jiang Sanli, and that she was terrorizing the help again. “A rattan cup,” she said. “The dried fronds will help with the fragrance, even if it’ll spill through unless drunk quickly.”

“You’re such a snob,” said David. He smiled at the waitress. “Pear blossom wine, please. Seeing you reminds me of pear blossoms.”

The waitress and Alice both blushed - but the latter did so in anger. Alice kicked him under the table. Quoting Wen was not his best moment, but David did what he had to, to keep Alice honest.

“Is there a specific cup the gentleman would like his wine in?”

“A cup of emerald,” interjected Daoist Li. “I would like some pear blossom wine as well.”

“And me, and me!” said Daoist Chan, in high spirits as the waitress ran off.

Chan told more barely believable stories of demonic cults and fair maidens as their wine arrived, to Li’s quiet disapproval, before he hit upon a topic of importance.

“I have news of your saber.”

Sobriety hit David and Alice like a cold shower.

“How do you know about the saber?” Alice demanded.

Chan Changshou smirked. “You’re crazy if you think we didn’t hang on to every word the Immortal said.” The smirk became something more serious. “Weapons like that are not easily found - and it’s clearly important to you. As your Path Friend, it was only my duty to search for it with my deep connections.”

“Did you find anything?” asked David, hoping that it really would be this easy.

Daoist Chan sighed. “I did. Turns out that it’s not hard to get news of a saber that can’t be drawn. It’s the talk of the town - in the right circles, of course.” He sighed again. “The saber was bought by a member of the Iron Scripture sect. Apparently it was a man with a mullet and a bad attitude.”

Li considered that. “Shen Xidong,” she decided. “No one else would be seen on the street with such an atrocious haircut.”

The food arrived - roast pork for everyone but Alice, who received an enormous baked chicken leg. When David wasn’t looking, she exchanged his plate for her own.

David ate his chicken leg slowly as Daoist Li went through the various reasons that Junior Shen might have had to purchase the saber, before she came about the obvious. “Master’s birthday is in a week - it’s almost certainly a gift for him.”

“It appears that my attempts to recruit you to the Clear Skies won’t bear any fruit,” said Chan, looking downcast. “It would have been nice to have some friends in the sect.”

David and Alice exchanged glances. What sort of world was this? Wen had claimed they’d been the most friendly people he’d ever met, on Alice’s worst day. And now, after two days, they were closer to Daoist Chan than anyone in his sect? Chan had been an inner disciple for nearly forty years.

“Don’t you have your junior sister?” bit Li.

“Not everyone’s like you. Not everyone has a master who, by all accounts, should be an immortal. And even fewer have masters who truly care for them. Qiaoqiao, like every outer disciple, goes where the wind blows. And I’m the next wind in the Clear Skies.”

“Do you blow her?” Alice asked.

Before Daoist Chan could respond, they were interrupted by a harrumph.

The first sign of something being wrong in a public place was the quiet, followed by the frantic shuffling of people standing to leave.

“Are we about to have another confrontation in a restaurant?” asked David of the ceiling, of the heavens.

They were.

“Chan Changshou. My senior brother whom I have long admired!” came a voice from behind David.

Four members of the Clear Skies sect had surrounded their table on all sides. No weapons were yet drawn, but the intention was clear.

The one standing behind Alice could have been Daoist Chan’s clone - they wore the same robes, they had the same jade hairband, and the cut of his jaw matched Chan’s. The one behind Li had an enormous chin.

“Please leave, Daoist Yue. I am entertaining guests of the sect.”

They did not leave.

“You are a disgrace to the Clear Skies,” said Daoist Yue, still behind Alice. Alice didn’t turn to look at him. She nibbled on David’s chicken leg and took a swig of his pear blossom wine.

“On what basis?” asked Chan Changshou, leisurely popping a piece of roast pork into his mouth. He deliberately chewed with his mouth open - letting the sound of crunching echo through the now-empty restaurant.

“Siding with outsiders over your own juniors.”

“Guess you haven’t blown Qiaoqiao,” said Alice, disappointed.

Chan scowled, then turned to Daoist Li, raising his cup at her. “It’s just like old times, isn’t it?”

Li smiled at him, bright and genuine for the first time since they’d met up with him again. “Ask me from where I’ve come, a question that needs no answer.”

“The boys and girls spread the wine, and cut chives on a rainy night,” responded Chan and David, together. They grinned at one another - and then David saw the faintest tightening of the muscles in Chan’s free hand.

Chan shot out of his chair, overturning the table. There was the keening of sword intent as his scabbard clattered against the table. David and Alice were sent skidding away to opposite sides of the room.

Daoist Chan was fast, faster than Jiang Tiankong by a wide margin. Faster than David thought he could be.

Yue, to his credit, was just as quick. He raised the pommel of his own sword to block the slash aimed at his throat with a loud ping, refracting the sudden wave of Chan’s visible, pale green sword qi towards Daoist Li.

Instead of the sickening squelch of the qi blade bisecting her, there was a loud clang as it dispersed against her outstretched palm.

“The Five Iron Fingers?” queried Big Chin beside her.

Daoist Li, who was still seated, looked up at him. “The Iron Scripture Palm,” she corrected, sinking her forefinger to the knuckle into the soft of the man’s belly over her shoulder. He made a sound like a punctured balloon and flew back twenty feet and hit the wall with a crack, sliding down in a trail of blood.

“Let’s go!” shouted Alice, pumping her fist and cheering across the room, sipping on his pear blossom wine - the nerve. Alice’s eyes were glued to the tip of Chan’s sword.

Yue scrambled backwards, dodging Chan’s wild, quick swings. Despite the apparent lack of control, not a single drop spilled from Chan’s cup of wine, which he still held in his left hand.

“There are easier ways to impress your junior sisters than attacking this daddy,” said Daoist Chan. “Let senior brother teach you a few tricks.” He was still drinking, still swinging.

“Lesson one,” said Chan Changshou. “Be aware of your surroundings. Girls like it when you notice little details.”

Yue bumped into the table behind him and Changshou blasted him over it with a raised knee. He flew across the table, knocking drinks and plates aside. His sword skidded away to rest by Alice’s ankle.

“Lesson two,” said Chan Changshou, taking a short sip. “A sword is a man’s pride. Don’t let anyone disarm you.”

Sword-light severed Daoist Yue’s hand at the wrist.

“Lesson three,” said Chan Changshou. “Respect your elders. Girls prefer men with experience.”

He sheathed his sword and then rapped the pommel against the man’s temple, knocking him out immediately, then spat on his body.

Daoist Chan turned and glared at the other two inner disciples who looked from the man twitching against the wall to their unconscious leader. “Get them to the seventeenth floor,” he said. “And get out of my sight!” he finished in a shout.

The two inner disciples blanched and hurried away, carrying Yue and Big Chin out.

“Not a word of thanks for the pointers I gave them,” said Daoist Chan, shaking his head and sipping from the little emerald cup he was still holding.

Daoist Li finished her drink, letting the flush of victory and liquor drown out her anger at Daoist Chan’s advice.

“Are we getting desensitized to violence?” asked Alice, in deep concern.

“Are video games to blame?” David wondered. He took another bite of chicken. It had been marinated for hours in dark wine and soy - it was delicious.