Tian came home to a note. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but expecting Liren to wait around at home was never going to be on the table, unlike the note.
“She still has such sloppy handwriting. Tsk. I must scold her later.” He smiled as he read the note, written in Liren’s perfectly adequate handwriting.
Zihao-
It is weirdly hard to know how to write a note, now. We don’t usually leave notes. Also, how am I supposed to address you now? Brother? I’m sticking with Brother in Public and Zihao in private. You do the same. You should refer to me as Sister or Sis in public and I’m okay with Liren in private, like before. I shouldn’t have to specify that.
“No, no, this is good. Don’t backslide, this is progress. Specific is the true path.”
A sister had a lead on some dye making materials, and they will also be good for making inks. It’s a bit of a haul without the crane, but not too bad. I’ll be gone for a few days. Which, given your sense of timing, means hang around for a bit and I’ll turn up eventually.
I don’t like it when you run off, even if you are doing it for a good reason. Just… wait at home. I’ll be back soon.
-Liren
Tian couldn’t help smiling. He could feel Liren in the words, could feel the irritation and warmth in her, all that furious yang qi rushing around inside of her, now tempered and condensed. He touched his heart and felt it blaze.
“I guess I can stick around. Maybe someone at the hospital will know a good tune for the flute. And the pond needs a thorough redecorating. Landscaping? Whatever you call it.”
Tian decided to dig the pond a little deeper first. It wasn’t easy, digging through the rock, but he had experience with that now. It was figuring out how they would keep any dirt in there that was going to be the big challenge. That, and little fish. He got to work deepening and widening, then took the removed rocks and made a pile of them in the middle of the pond. The top rock was right at surface level, and the whole thing was barely waist deep and ten feet across.
“Should we call that a pool more than a pond? But I want a pond,” he muttered, then stuck the toad on the rock. Just to show there were no hard feelings, he left another brass coin in front of the still meditating toad.
It’s facing the wrong way.
“What do you mean?”
It needs to face away from the entrance. I’m treating the whole cavern as a courtyard here. Inside your house would, strictly speaking, be better, but this is good too. Just aim the toad at your front door, keep his back towards the cavern exit, and leave the money right in front of it.
“Toads hop around, Grandpa.”
This little beggar wont, without good reason. You will see.
The hospital wasn’t too busy, but it wasn’t empty either. There were long-term patients there, whose healing time might be measured in years or even a lifetime. A few were in the Earthly Realm, but most of the long-termers were in the Heavenly Realm. It had been quite a mystery to Tian, but it was explained to him (vaguely) that the kinds of problems Heavenly people suffered could be incredibly esoteric, and needed equally obscure treatments. Sometimes they would never be right until they understood something, mastered something, transcended. The Heavenly Realm seemed like a dark forest, compared to the bright, straight path of the Earthly Realm.
One such lost wanderer was Martial Uncle Gen, who never wanted tea, but was open to chatting over some snacks and malt candies. Tian felt a little stab of guilt, now that he understood why the Martial Aunts and Uncles never cared for his tea service. They truly were used to better stuff than he could provide.
For now.
“Martial Uncle, how are you today?”
Uncle Gen was looking pale, hollow eyed and listless, his long mustaches draping lifelessly over a sad face. All of which was normal for the senior. He was doing a bit better than he looked, but only a bit.
“Much the same, much the same. It is good to see you again. How roasted are you?”
“Pardon?”
“By the flames of love. The Outer Court is buzzing with it, and I’m practically going deaf in here.” Something that might have, under other circumstances, been a grin flashed across Gen’s face. Tian suddenly and urgently felt the need to return to the wilds, but controlled it.
“I don’t know, it’s all pretty new to me. We are figuring things out. I just hope she likes the present I got her.”
“Oh? You got her something? Say more.”
“It’s nothing so special. Once I tricked the guardian defending the stone- ah, but you don’t want to hear about all that.” Tian said, with malice aforethought. “I see you have your qin out. Are you playing again?”
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Uncle Gen looked momentarily torn between being nosy and maintaining the dignity of a martial uncle. Face won out, but it seemed to be a close-run thing.
“Yes, I’m hoping it will help me resolve the lingering evil in my wound. It will be a lot of trial and error, and a lot of luck, but… I have time, and little else to do.”
“How can playing an instrument help heal a wound? Do you pour your qi into playing?”
“You know better than to ask.” Gen scolded. “And yes, I do use my qi, but that’s not really relevant to the treatment. When you get right down to it, every musician, even mortals, do the same. Though, it’s a little different with the qin.”
“How so, Uncle?”
“The quin is reminiscent of the body of a person, and of nature. It has a long front and back, the dragon pool and the phoenix pond, here is the mountain ridge at the end of the central plains. And spanning over it all are the strings. Do you know about the strings of a qin?”
“I don’t, Martial Uncle.”
“It’s not so simple as a bit of thread. The core is tightly twisted silk, and then each string must be treated a little differently. Wrapped in another layer of silk thread, varying the thicknesses, even subtle changes in material are not unheard of, though it’s frowned upon. Then they soak the strings in a special glue to bind all the silk threads into a coherent whole, before being wrapped around a goose foot.”
Gen tapped a wooden knob on the underside of the instrument. The strings were stretched over the qin’s wide body, starting upon the mountain ridge and descending over the far end to be tied to the two goose feet underneath.
“I can see the thickness of the strings varies.”
“That is far from all they do. Each one has a different meaning. When I said it was reminiscent of nature, I wasn’t speaking casually. Seven strings- five for the elements, two for human nature. There are three ways of plucking, and each has its own meaning. The open strings represent earth, the stopped notes represent humans, and highest of all is the heavens, the harmonics. So it is not merely the string itself that determines the role of the note, but how it is played. The subtleties might not be infinite, but I’ve yet to find the end to them.”
“Could you play something and show me, Martial Uncle? Please, ignore me if it’s too much trouble.”
“It isn’t. I’m sure you have heard a qin played before, though.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know about the strings and notes. I want to see if I can hear it.”
Uncle Gen sagged. “You brat. Do you know the kind of pressure you are putting on me? Never mind, never mind. Just remember, the qin is only a casual hobby of mine. Someone who follows the qin dao… well, it’s very, very different.”
Gen’s fingers settled over the tawny wood, resting lightly on the strings. The right hand was placed just below the mountain ridge, the left was rather lower down. A single string was plucked with the right hand, the left gently touching down on it, pressing it to the body of the instrument. Then the left slid up and down the string, making the note vibrate and shift, the sliding making its own counterpoint noise to the thrumming pluck.
Then his left hand shifted again, and Gen plucked a second note and were Tian not seeing it with his own eyes, he would never believe the same instrument could make both sounds. This was bright, chiming, almost metallic, then another note, and another, and suddenly a string was plucked and that left hand made it sound like the note was rising from the depths of the earth.
Tian became entranced by that left hand. The right was steady as a mountain, plucking away up at the top of the qin, but the left! It slid over the strings, diving and pressing here and there, varying speed and placement. The notes throbbed and shook and sang under the guidance of that left hand, and even in the gaps between notes, it had its own little song. The fingers would slide along the strings, and though it was faint, the rubbing sound added to the whole of the music.
Tian felt his mind wandering as he listened, the goal of picking out the elements forgotten almost immediately as he was bewitched by the music and Gen’s left hand. Eventually, the pale hands lifted from the strings, and the song came to its end. Tian sat, unmoving, lost in the echoes.
“It seems you liked it. Did you learn much?”
“Junior is lacking. I… couldn’t pick apart the piece. I found myself remembering climbing over the mountains and watching the streams fall over rocks and through valleys. I apologize for wasting Uncle Gen’s efforts.”
Gen smiled, and it was the first really genuine smile Tian could remember seeing from him. “Not wasted. The name of the song is High Mountain, Running Water. The correct way to play it is much argued over, with some saying a transcendent secret is hidden with. If there is, my qin dao is too lacking to discover it. All I know is, it sounds good, and it both calms and invigorates the spirit.”
He stroked the instrument affectionately. “The qin is a uniquely daoist instrument. It doesn’t just make us happy. Hearing it, or better still, playing it, helps unify the mind, body and spirit, returning calm and harmony, and healing the organs. This naturally corresponds to heaven, earth and man, the three energies within us, our emotions, all tastes, colors, sounds, desires. A master player can play the entirety of the universe on their qin. Is it any wonder scholars consider it one of the four arts?”
“Amazing! I know what the five elements are, but what are the human strings?”
Gen looked thoughtful. “Their origin is the subject of legend, as they were added much later. This one-” he plucked a string, “commemorates the death of a prince. In a word, the note is grief. And so much more, but in a word, grief.”
Gen plucked another string. “This was to motivate an army facing a terrible enemy. A call to war, to struggle, to make one’s resolve firm. I know others think of it differently, but I think of it as courage.”
Tian smiled at that, feeling an old pain. The Martial Aunts and Uncles hadn’t always been lofty figures. They too had struggled on the ground in the Earthly Realm. They didn’t hide away in the mountains after ascension either. He had seen plenty of them breathe their last on the red sands of the wastes. Uncle Gen was qualified to speak of courage.
Tian wondered if all those things were present in the flute as well. He once managed to harmonize with the wind, but he wouldn’t say that he had expressed the hidden emotions of the wind, or brought out some esoteric truth.
Tian did his usual rounds, ducking questions about him and Liren, asking more of his own. Asking about music, or food, or other happy memories. His mind was on what Uncle Gen had said- between the heavens and the earth thrummed humanity, and their notes were grief and courage. The idea buzzed between his ears, lifting his feet, making him want to rush home and start playing his flute and seeing if he could find the same tones, or at least the same meaning.
Could he play a song that said what words could not? Make a song to court Liren?
It was all he worked on for two days. On the third day, a paper bird flew into his cave and turned itself into a note.
-Disciple Tian Zihao, report to the Hall of Harmony at the Hour of the Horse. Be prepared to discuss the future development of the sect. You will be given an opportunity to speak and be heard.
-Rui