They were led to a small pavilion, no distinction being made between those in the Heavenly and Earthly realms. It was all much the same to these great ones. Tian couldn’t help but find the thought a bit funny. You fought and schemed and adventured for centuries, and “Sorry! Any random dog or cat is so far above you, they can’t be bothered to even glance at you. Keep working at it, ‘lil fella, and one day you can be a real cultivator!”
Did the rule about taking things and paying a price extend to everything? To the water? Tian had a sinking feeling it did. The Dawnlight Lark repeatedly used the example of blowing leaves and blades of grass, even stray words had a price. It seemed exhausting.
It’s not as bad as you think. They aren’t out to screw over people, they are just so much stronger than you that almost everything in here has the potential to ruin your life or outright kill you. A stray word potentially included. “Price” in this case might be as simple as the bucket being really, really heavy, or the rope being very long, or something.
Tian sincerely hoped Grandpa was right. There was a well out back of the pavilion. He would have to check and see. Though…
“Really, Grandpa? A stray word?”
Directed to you? Oh yes. Think about how you are picking apart that little bird’s words, knowing that you will be affected by them for years and years to come. Hell, the whole reason you are bothering with the flute was an elder’s whim and sense of aesthetics. It doesn’t take much, and at their level, they are keenly sensitive to the ripples their actions have on those weaker than them. They are far more casual when dealing with peers, I can promise you that. You wouldn’t believe how weird these little bastards get after a few thousand years. I once knew a man who wasn’t safe to leave unattended around three legged stools, and he was the normal one in his little band of immortals.”
Tian was going to protest characterizing the Dawnlight Lark as “That little bird,” but kept his mental mouth shut. If he asked something, Grandpa might explain about the three legged stool, and he desperately did not want to know. He focused on the Lark. The Dawnlight Lark was one of the weakest people in the Myriad Colors Holy Land. She couldn’t even come and go here as she pleased. Perhaps she needed to be silent unless spoken to as well.
She does, believe it. Especially if she is the student of the local hegemon. The last thing the rest of the critters around here want to do is lead the Boss’ precious disciple astray.
The pavilion was elegant in its simplicity. No decoration, no carvings, no calligraphy or pottery or flower arrangement were present. It was just four walls, a roof, and some cells. One curious thing was that there was no shared space in the pavilion- each room opened directly onto a wide porch. There was no sitting room, no library, no kitchen or dining room. There were just cells for sleeping in. Not very big ones either.
It wasn’t a snub, he realized. It was like what the Lark said about his flute. The instrument wasn’t important. He was. The way in which these titanic elders expressed their dao wasn’t important. He would receive it regardless, with unknown consequences from the unguided transmission. As recklessly irresponsible as handing a loaded crossbow to a child, or closing your eyes and shooting it around a nursery. If he wanted decorations, he could go get them. If he could pay the price. For example, a century or two of his service in exchange for some half-hearted calligraphy or a demonstration of a sword slash.
Not wildly different from what went on in the sect, in a way. All the servant disciples, scurrying around the low country in exchange for the life changing guidance of the sect.
He didn’t have anything to organize. He had entrusted the Wangs with feeding the Fortune Calling Toad once a month, so that was alright. His garden would get overrun and the vegetables would likely struggle, but that was alright too. There really was only one thing that wasn’t alright.
Tian took a moment to fix his robes and make sure his bun was pinned up immaculately. He steadied his breath, then he went to Liren’s room. He knocked gently on the door, but didn’t say anything. She knew who it was. She could feel his breath as plainly as he could feel hers.
She didn’t answer. Tian folded his hands in front of him, and waited.
And waited.
The shadows cast by the pillars moved. Tian didn’t.
The door eventually opened. Liren looked haggard. “Come in. Leave the door open. Please.”
Tian walked in, finding Liren’s room was no different from his own.
“You would have waited all day and all night. I could feel you. I know you. Something’s wrong with me, and you can’t stand it, so you are going to fix it. Which means I have to tell you what's wrong.”
Tian nodded.
She stared at the floor, still unwilling to look straight at him.
“Zihao… do you have the resolve to kill me?”
Tian blinked at that. He was usually the one accused of saying the dumbest thing imaginable. Clearly Liren had decided to take that crown for herself.
“No.”
She sighed, covering her head with her hands, crouching over on herself. “Because we are dao companions. And you ‘more than just friends’ like me.”
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“Is love such a bad word?”
“Under the circumstances, yes.” He could hear her forcing her breath to be steady. “Sometimes, you just have to kill someone. For everyone’s sake. Even for the sake of the one you kill."
“I am quite sure you aren’t that person though, Liren. Is it the forgiveness-”
“NO! NO! Don’t say that! Don’t say that word!” She shouted, then crashed to the floor, curling up tight. Tian was paralyzed. He had never seen her like this before. He had no idea what to do.
He reached his hand towards her, and he saw her flinch away. Hard. He sighed and sat on the bed instead. “What did you see in the illusion array, Liren? What trick on your mind hurt you so badly, you would rather I killed you than live with it?”
She laughed bitterly. “I don’t want you to kill me now. I’m on my knees begging my ancestors that the day never comes. I just need you to promise me that if it does, you will kill me. You won’t… do anything else. Just kill me, and get on with your life. No suicide pact bullshit. Just death, stow my body in a ring and toss the ring into a furnace or some damn thing. Give it to a passing migrating bird.”
“A crane, a goose, a swallow, which to choose.” Tian murmured, trying to figure out what was going on.
“Up to you.” There was a bubble of laughter in her voice.
“What did you see?”
“The very worst thing in the world. The one thing I could never, ever live with. The one sin I could never forgive myself for. Betraying you. And she made it look inevitable.”
Tian waited in silence. Liren soon filled it.
“I beat you. And you just took it. You forgave me, and I promised I would never do it again. Until next time, when I beat you again, and apologized, and you forgave me. I kept you from your friends. From Brother Fu. I locked the money down tight, making sure you didn’t even trade for things without my permission. I made… demands of you. And when the anger came on me, I hit you. I beat you like a rag. And you took it. And then you forgave me.”
Liren was strongly aligned with fire qi. Balanced properly, that meant joy. Excessive fire qi meant rage. Terrible, consuming rage. Liren had a temper, but in his experience, it was a pretty mild one.
“A familiar cycle. I have never seen it before myself, but I have heard of it.” Tian’s voice was mild as well water.
“I’ve seen it. Too often. Never at home, ancestors be praised, but I’ve seen it.” Liren’s voice was still muffled by her arms as she lay curled up on the floor.
“In my illusion, you swung your fist at me, stopping at the very tip of my nose. I told Mourning Cry I didn’t flinch because I knew you weren’t the sort to hit me.”
“She showed me that I could be. That I would be, and that it will be easy to become that person.”
The room settled into silence. Would he just quietly take a beating from Liren? No. Or at least, he couldn’t imagine it. Even trying to imagine it made him feel sick, almost dizzy. He breathed out, long and slow, then equally slowly breathed in.
“If she showed you how you become that person, then she showed you how not to become that person too. Just don’t do the things your dream self did. I could see myself poisoning your tea. I just won’t. You do similar.”
She started laughing. “Oh, if only I thought of that!”
Tian snorted, then let the silence settle back in. Liren lay on the floor for about five minutes, then sat up.
“Love. It was love. I could see it in you. Every time. Every time you thought you were helping me release some mental demon, or it was just how I was, or that you could endure it for the good times. That it was a side effect of my cultivation, one I would grow out of with time. So you forgave me, and endured. Over and over and over. I resented you. So damn much. For living. For making me feel… for making me feel.”
Tian let the silence build up again, and once again, Liren felt the need to break it.
“It’s a cycle, Zihao. A spiral that twists in tighter and tighter, turning faster and faster, until it can’t sustain itself anymore and explodes.”
“Unless you stop it before it starts.”
“Yes.” Liren finally looked up at Tian, met his eyes, hers wide and desperate. “The very first time I raise my hand to you, kill me. Take me as a terrible warning, a lesson. Use my memory to protect yourself from other monsters. Just don’t forgive me.”
Tian really didn’t know what to say to that. He was tempted to just agree with no intention of honoring his words, but that wouldn’t work. She knew him too well for that.
“Because you see the possibility.”
“I see the plausibility. Even after I woke up from the illusion, I understood how I did what I did. It wasn’t a mystery. It wasn’t so strange that I snapped out of the illusion. Every time I hit you, it felt completely necessary and right. That it was your fault that I was hitting you. That you deserved it. Later came the guilt. Later came the apologies. The amount of teaware I bought you could have kept a kiln going for years, even as I stopped you from visiting people on your own. I apologized every time, and nothing changed.”
Tian let out a slow sigh. “So you decided that the way to break the cycle was from the outside. You are scared of a potential future. One that may never come. So my promise will be like your night light.”
She nodded violently, then her mouth twisted. “I knew you would understand.”
Tian closed his eyes. Fear. It was just fear. A plausible future, based on her own confused emotions and all the built up suffering in her. He had forgiven her, but she had never forgiven herself. Now she couldn’t forgive herself for what she might do. Bound up by a dream.
“Mourning Cry said I might come to hate her. It seems she was right.” Tian muttered. That got a bark of laughter from Liren.
“You don’t think death might be a little dramatic? Maybe an intermediate step like me moving out of the cave and having nothing to do with you, requesting postings on the other side of the world, something?” Tian asked.
“Considered it.” Liren nodded. “I really think I would rather die, honestly. The imagined pain and shame had me… well. Yeah. I’d honestly rather die.”
“Kind of a burden to put on me, though.”
“You are good at forgiving,” The bitterness in her voice made his heart clench. “One day, you will be able to forgive yourself.”
Tian laughed, a soft and mocking sound. “I really am an arrogant prick. I was so proud at suppressing my heart demon. I’m doing so much better, most days, I don’t think about it. And I’m such a self centered little bastard it never occurred to me that you must have one too. If you can believe that terrible dream, believe in this good one from me. Heart demons can become your strength. You can temper yourself against them. My worst dreams are a life without you. My best ones are a life with you. So let us dream together, Liren. Safe, happy, and at peace.”