David

It could have been the less friendly tone of deserted streets. It could have been the gravity of what had happened. It could have been that Wen had relearned the caution he wore when David had met him.

It could have been that Shishi spoke enough to fill the air, so Wen didn't have to.

Whatever the reason, Wen was silent as stone.

"-and of course, because I haven't written a song in twenty years, no one believes I can actually write anymore," said Shishi, her fists clenched. "But not only does no one believe I can write, no one even wants my backup vocals anymore."

"That's unfortunate," said David. When he'd met Shishi in the room he'd delivered the goods from the auction, he'd misjudged her. She carried herself in a way that reminded him of Feiyan - brash, cheerful, talkative and self-centered, but when her Song had echoed across Three Worships Hall, David had heard that tell-tale filtering of open meridians and the harmonic accompaniment of a stable Core.

Shishi glared at David, as though her troubles were somehow his fault. "If I were a core disciple at any other sect, I would get so much more respect! I could even be a core disciple at your sect."

She wasn't wrong. The Ascending Sky promoted inner disciples to core disciples only when they had successfully opened a meridian - the strictest standard on the continent. David's sect likely had the lowest number of core disciples for its size. But that didn't matter. The Ascending Sky had the most disciples who had survived Ignition.

"Do you know any of my seniors?" David asked, hoping she'd talk about something that wasn't declining album sales or features on songs he'd never heard with people he'd never heard of.

"Of course," she said. "Our sects have been allied for a long time. Your elders and mine have tea every year at the Sword Dialogue. They drag all of us core disciples along like unruly children and give us backhanded compliments, then pretend to complain about their own inheriting disciple. 'Oh it's such a shame that my worthless student took this long to finally open his fifth meridian!' It sickens me."

She said that all in one breath, then rolled her eyes. Then she folded her arms. "Speaking of the Sword Dialogue, I've never seen you there."

Hadn’t Feiyan mentioned that Fairy Guan had won the Sword Dialogue a few times? She’d said, for certain, that the royal family held an auction while it happened. It sounded, more than anything, like a big party for cultivators.

"I've never been," said David. "I'm newly promoted. This is my first mission outside of the Sect."

"Congratulations on your success, may it continue," she said, giving him a slight nod. There was something polite and perfunctory about her tone which led David to believe that it was just good manners to say that. Then she poked Wen in the ribs. "You're friends with him, right?”

“I am.”

"He's leaving you behind. What are you going to do about it?"

Wen looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Shishi didn’t let up. “You’ve been given a grand opportunity - the foundational scripture of a Great Sect. Have you been studying the Truth of Heart? Have you read every verse, committed it to memory? Or have you spent your time gossiping, and listening to your sect sisters sing?”

“I’ve memorized it,” said Wen.

“So what’s the issue? If the scripture is of high enough quality to outlast the changing of dynasties, don’t you think it’s good enough to establish your own foundations?”

Wen opened his mouth and then gave David a glance, then closed his mouth. David had no doubt that he had just been about to make a very specific complaint that wasn’t for outsiders.

“Has a disciple of Song Mountain Sect somehow lost the most revered gift of his voice?”

That was something the Immortal had said earlier - it must have been a line from some famous story. When it had left the lips of not-Daoist Bo, there had been something sinister, something pejorative about it. Said by Shishi, the words could only be mischievous and endearing.

“This disciple has every reason to be worried,” said Wen. “Hasn’t the Truth of Heart only been cultivated by women? What if it shares qualities with the legendary Sunflower Verses? What if that’s the real reason every member of Song Mountain Sect is a woman?”

Shishi cackled. “You’ll be my most precious and beautiful little sister. Everywhere, they will whisper of your jade-like beauty, your cherry red lips, your clear-pool eyes, and your willowy waist.”

“Your cultivation will be unparalleled under the heavens, but despite your comprehension of the Dao, the esteem of your Path Friends and the love of the common folk, you will be unable to find a worthy suitor,” said David, grinning.

Shishi threw her arm over David’s shoulder. “Younger brother, I like your style. I am also trying to lose a small fortune. We should produce a musical together and get chased off stage in a Dongjing theater.”

She turned back to Wen, smiling brightly, but he’d left the joke behind, choosing to stare into the night sky. Her good humor evaporated in concern. “You don’t actually believe that’ll happen, do you?” she queried. In her brown eyes gleamed a resignation that could have only come from long arguments about absurdities.

“Of course not,” said Wen. “If a collection of essays about Buddhism could do that, then the temples in this city wouldn’t be deserted.” He paused. “As you know, this isn’t the only sect I’ve belonged to. I’m having some trouble incorporating my mantra into the framework of-”

“If anyone can help you with something that specific, it will be Master Bo,” said Shishi flatly, but David knew she really meant that it wasn’t the time and place.

There was a rival here from a visiting sect, after all. It was a shame. If the Truth of Heart was anything like his own sect’s Skybound Scripture or Li Qingshui’s words of iron, it would have been interesting just to listen to.

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Shishi sighed. "Whatever problems you’re encountering, if you don't advance for your sake, at least do it for Master Bo's. It'll be difficult to explain when a one-in-a-million genius that she recruited turns out to be a dud. How will she face the Sect Master?"

Wen continued to walk, staring at the cobblestones in front of his feet. He grit his teeth. "Somehow I think she'll manage."

“And we’ve arrived at the root of your displeasure,” she said gently. Her hand found the crook of Wen’s elbow, a familiar gesture. “From what I overheard, you seem to have a connection to brighter stars - something that’s hard to come by. You feel used.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” said Wen. “It’s what happened. I thought I’d long run out of things that could be taken, but I keep meeting people who somehow find a way.”

Shishi's tone shifted into something less bubbly, something less affected, something less high-pitched. "Despite what you think, Bo Yun is not a selfish woman." She threw a look over her shoulder at Song Mountain. "At least not by cultivator standards. It is in our nature to reach for things we do not understand, to throw caution to the wind and spit in the face of fate."

"I guess her little experiment did work out. Not in the way she explained. The 'symbolic break of tradition in recruiting a man to Song Mountain' didn't really do anything for her. But it worked out in the end," spat Wen in a rush, speaking quicker and quicker as his temper rose.

"That's not fair," said Shishi. She threw a glance at David, and decided that what she had to say was more important than keeping sect affairs private. "What did you want her to say to justify your entry into the sect, in front of all of the elders, when her own master is behind closed doors. What else could she have said to-"

"I think the lesson here is that when someone swears they'll do something that benefits them, you should probably take them at their word," said Wen, cutting her off. "Anyway, it's not like anything's changed. There's not been any serious injuries. There's nothing to be upset about."

They had nearly arrived at the stadium - just passing the spot where Daoist Bo had been possessed by Wen's ancestor.

"Yet you're upset," said Shishi. It wasn't a challenge, no - her voice was somber, tender. "Wen Cheng, you've walked the plains for two decades. In these recent weeks, you've met a woman who has spent that time a hundredfold singing love songs."

Wen folded his arms. "I'm not in love with her. Don't be absurd-"

Despite his better judgment, David took Wen at his word and attributed the flash of color on Wen's cheeks to embarrassment.

"Of course not."

Shishi stopped walking, then took a deep breath.

"Most of the beauties of Song Mountain are guilty of doing their very best to convince the audiences who worship them that it's mutual."

Wen frowned. “I don’t see the relevance here and-”

Shishi glared so fiercely at him that he gulped.

"Bo Yun does not begin her sets by saying that she was sad, but seeing the crowd has given her the strength to perform. Bo Yun does not meet and greet her fans to leverage the unfaltering memory granted by cultivation to ask those fans about their cats by name. Bo Yun would never sell a fantasy of love to a disciple who could not possibly resist her charm."

There was something bitter, something cold, something predatory in her words. David suspected that Shishi was speaking from experience.

"I just thought she cared about-"

Shishi sneered. "Of course she cares about you. Open your ears. What do you hear?"

The wind whistled along a lakeside path. Gentle waves crashed against a well-maintained shoreline. Ten thousand torches crackled, alight with a fuel that didn’t truly exist. But louder than any of that was the rhythmic sound of a drumming, high flutes.

Piercing through the ambience of Huzhou and the instrumentals was a voice that would have won countless awards on Earth and signed with the biggest labels. They were a stone's throw from the stadium and, without a doubt, Liu Na was performing.

Wen looked confused.

"This is the sound of your Senior Sister's album release. But instead of organizing the concert, instead of dancing at the front of the crowd, instead of sitting in the booth reserved for the elders of Song Mountain-” Shishi let out her breath between her teeth. “Master Bo took the time to walk with you and teach you life lessons. And to make sure that the friends you've made," she pointed at David, "aren't the sort that would cause problems for you."

There was a flash of contrition on Wen's face. David supposed it was fair - Wen had greeted him with a wild enthusiasm at Three Worships Hall. According to Wen himself, he hadn't had many friends - a trait that someone with bad intentions could easily take advantage of. David frowned.

"Not that I think you're anything but a fine, upstanding gentleman," Shishi said, turning to David. "Everyone I've met from the Ascending Sky is polite and well-read, friendly and well-spoken. None of them shine as brightly as you do."

David considered the way she played with her hair, the sudden-shy downturn of her eyes, the slightly besotted smile, the way her pitch perked into a higher register then dropped into something soft and self-conscious when she delivered the compliments.

If he hadn’t seen what she was when she wasn’t pretending - the ageless cultivator giving advice to Wen, he might have blushed. That quick peek behind the curtain dispelled any illusion of innocence, of first love, of endearment.

Shishi pouted. "You're no fun. At least pretend you're falling in love with me." She started walking again, dragging both Wen and David along by their sleeves. "This way."

Directly before them were rows and columns of orderly, waist-high stone poles, several feet apart. A single, thick rope of silk tied each pole to its neighbor. They came together to form what must have been an orderly queue of concertgoers a few hours ago.

On the far side of the stone and silk maze was a short, wide flight of stone steps that led up to the entrance to the stadium - a pair of carved marble blocks three times David's height and wide enough for ten people to pass through easily. Groups of concertgoers stood outside, sharing drinks, conversation and lit pipes. The doors slid open soundlessly as they finished their pipes and went back inside.

As they approached, a middle aged man holding a tin mug full of beer pointed at Shishi, shaking an older woman he was with by the elbow. “Look! Mama, it’s her! It’s really her!” The beer splashed over the woman’s dress. The man’s mother raised a hand reflexively to give him a slap, but turned to look anyway.

“Miss Shi!” The wrinkles on her face, lined in age and scarred by disappointment, fled instantly. Her eyes widened, with wonder, with unshed tears. She rushed over to intercept them on the stone steps. “My first concert, I was just a young girl, I snuck into the stadium,” she babbled, “it was your last performance.”

Shishi reached up and brushed a hand through the woman’s hair, letting it fall on her shoulder. “Goodness me, that was quite a long time ago. I hope you had a good time.” She gave a little tilt of the head. “I’m surprised anyone still recognizes me.”

“I still play your records every day, like you said you hoped we would - before your last song of the night,” the woman promised. “If you’ve left the studio, it must mean you’re releasing an album soon!”

“Perhaps,” said Shishi, giving her a little smile. “But tonight, I’m here to support my junior sister. I hope I see you again soon!”

She dragged Wen and David up the stairs and through the sliding marble doors, leaving the woman and her son behind.

There was something cold in the pit of his stomach. David thought of the mortal girl on the carriage, and her excitement about seeing Liu Na, and the hope in her eyes when he said that he’d see her again.

No, despite Wen’s misgivings, David could only see Bo Yun’s kindness.

David turned to stare at the summit of Song Mountain across the lake. The xin - the heart - was the most dangerous meridian to open. He hoped the Heavens would be kind in turn.