He was overreacting, and he was running away. Was Liren no longer allowed to even touch someone, or be touched? No longer allowed to receive complements? To be appreciated for her beauty by anyone other than him? Was he, now, someone who could decide what she did or did not do?
He held her as his dao companion. Said there was no immortality without her. Was he really going to throw a fit because someone else appreciated her beauty the way he did? Wasn’t very daoist. Wasn’t very mature. Rationally, he could understand all of that. Emotionally? Emotionally, there was a burned child with only some of his fingers and some of his teeth wrapping around Liren with both arms and legs and screaming “MINE! I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU TAKE HER!”
It was the warmth of her, and the comfort of her. The bone deep security that came from knowing he would never fly alone. Never picking through the trash alone. Never trying to tie a knot with only index and thumb fingers alone again.
His hand drifted to the malachite bangle on his wrist, tracing the carving of the two of them on a boat, laughing and happy. That was what he craved above all else. The companionship in the words “dao companion.” He wanted to try sex, he really did. His blood sang at the thought of exploring her body, and wondering what it would be like as she explored his. But he would rather spend this life as a virgin than give up that sense of safety, the joy and the warmth of their days together.
He wasn’t feeling very safe now.
What a fool he was. He spent so long worrying about Liren’s low self esteem, her inability to appreciate her own beauty, that he never considered what might happen if people did appreciate her beauty. His vanity was mostly inward focused, appreciating his refined body for the joy it brought him, not the desire it inspired in others. Not that he was blind to the lingering looks he got from Liren. He played up to it, used it to tease and flatter her. But it was for her. It wasn’t for a stranger. He was sure others must be looking at him, but he didn’t see them. They didn’t matter. Liren mattered.
Was this how Liren felt when she saw Tian writing to Daoist Shu? She said she hated Shu a little, even though it was unfair. Not because Shu did anything. Not because Tian had done anything. Simply for existing, and threatening what she had her heart set on. He hadn’t really understood what Liren meant at the time. He did now. As soon as they were able, they would leave Burning Flag City and rush to the Bamboo Medicine Hut. It was past time to tie off that thread. Long past time.
His breath rushed out, then his lungs expanded and created a vacuum, an empty hole inside of him which his cultivation art filled with watery qi. He felt the qi swirling as it funneled down into him. Grandpa had said the Kun could swallow anything, and did. It filtered what it took in, picking out the bits that were useful and expelling the rest.
He was overreacting, but Sweetdove had been doing something, and Liren hadn’t been brushing her off. He didn’t have the right words to describe this situation, but he didn’t like it. Liren was probably feeling like crap right now. He should rise out of his meditation and explain things properly. He just had to expel this choking feeling from his lungs. He didn’t need that terror. His things would not be stolen from him, especially since they weren’t his things in the first place. Liren chose him, came to him. She had shown, repeatedly, that she was willing to live with him and die for him. What else did he need to feel safe?
Something. He didn’t know what. Maybe there was no filling that hole in him. That constant fear of having his food stolen away, of the rats nibbling on him while he slept. A hole in his heart that happiness bled from, and would never heal.
The dark waters were deep today, weren’t they? Perhaps the Darknorth Sea art wasn’t suitable for him. There is such a thing as being too yin. But from that enormous sea, from the depths, the great kun rose and soared into the blue sky as a peng. He would fly into the sky again. And he wouldn’t do it alone. He knew exactly where Liren’s heart lay. He just needed not to act a damn fool.
He gently released his cultivation. He could feel Liren sitting inside the house. Her qi was a mess, her breath disordered.
“I overreacted.” Tian’s voice carried to her ears without disturbing the air.
“No, it was my-”
“I overreacted. But there was something I reacted to. We don’t need to beat it to death. I’m possessive. I didn’t realize how much, but I am. You are beautiful. I shouldn’t be so touchy when other people notice. Though I do wish you had brushed her off.”
Liren opened her mouth to say something, then slowly closed it again. Eventually, “I… understand my mistakes.”
They sat silently for a while. Liren spoke suddenly. “I feel like shit. For a lot of reasons, but I think the core of it was that I wasn’t being…” She rapped her knuckles against her chest. “Whatever my dao path is, fear and passive corruption have no part in it. For what it’s worth, it didn’t seem… it felt like I was back at the Convent. Like I was back with a senior sister.”
Tian nodded. It felt good for her. The warmth and the safety. He treasured his memories of his time at West Town Temple. After a few more minutes of quiet, he said, “The new calligraphy looks good.”
“En.”
“Put what you are feeling into the version you hang in the temple.”
“Eh?” Liren tilted her head slightly.
“Think about the words. I am.”
Liren shook her head, a little smile on her lips. “You are too good at forgiving.”
“Says who? Sweetdove gets to walk out of here today, because we have a battle to fight soon. But as soon as it’s over, I’m going to see how she paints talismans without her thumbs.”
Taken from NovelFire, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Liren snorted, but still wasn’t willing to look straight at Tian.
“Hey, Liren?”
“Yeah?”
“Mind pinning up my hair for me? It will make the mortals feel better.”
She went still. “Are you sure? It’s not like I’ve practiced it. And… what will you use for a hair pin?”
“Whatever you like, so long as it isn’t a dragon. And don’t we have time to practice now?”
The day of the investure began with a procession. The procession was led by a young swordsman carrying a tall staff. On the end of the staff was an iron ring, and from the iron ring hung eight more rings, clanking and chiming with each step. Behind him came two Heavenly immortals wearing the blue and white of the Ancient Crane Monastery. Below their simple outer robes, a glory of gold and black shimmered in the sunlight.
Behind them came the whole city. At least, that was how it felt. The City Lord and his family walked behind them, next to the City Protector and the Red Plume General and their families, the local censor, the magistrates, priests, scholar officials, artists and artisans, everyone who could think of a reason they should be in the procession fought to secure a place. Those who couldn’t manage that much lined the streets and watched them, falling in behind when the procession passed.
Everyone knew what was happening. It was anything but a secret. The Emissary of Heaven’s Mercy and the Guardian Faerie were inviting the spirit of the Martyr Venerable to descend, offering incense and sacrifices, and beseeching him to take up residence in the statue in the shrine dedicated to him. Of course, the local priests had already done all that, but even if the request was the same, the people asking weren’t. Even the least faithful person knew there was a difference between the god being in residence, and the god awakening.
Bells and drums guided the worshipers to their places, echoing through the shrine. Tian had made the incense himself. Mortal ingredients, pushed to the very edge of the earthly realm. Sweet herbs and savory tree bark smoked, rising from burners to cleanse the room and the worshipers alike.
The statue was deliberately humble, wearing a battered straw basket over its head, red paper pasted over the front of it. He was carrying a nearly broken wooden walking stick, and draped with robes of tattered cloth. The statue was hollow, as were most such statues. Tian didn’t disturb the scriptures already in there, but before the ritual he had made a point of adding his favorite Earthly tea, as well as a transcription of the Demon Pulling Art. Lastly, he added his notes on palm arts and staff arts. At this point they were more like speculations than conclusions, but they were useful.
The statue’s face was hidden, deliberately, but displayed in its fist was the demon’s finger. Tian had needed medicine, boxing, all sorts of abilities, when he was in the guise of the Tea Venerable. He thought it would be fair if the deity had similar abilities. Maybe his offerings would work. Maybe not.
The shrine alcove was kept dim. No reason to add candles or windows. The crystalline finger had a subtle glow of its own. He had worked hard that day. So had Liren. And their efforts had achieved something incredible.
Tian and Liren carefully purified the statue with thick bundles of incense, then kneeled in front of it. They wouldn’t bow, but they had to show enough respect that impressed the genuflecting masses behind them.
“It is the auspicious day and hour, the people are assembled. Mortal and immortal unite to invite the descent of the gods. I now begin the invocation! I call upon the Celestial Worthy of the Dao and its Virtue to oversee all matters here today, and to ensure all gods and spirits fulfill their roles, as we petitioners do. I call upon the Jade Emperor, beseeching him to answer the petition and confer upon the Venerable this honorable position. We pray that he sends the three Divine Officials to bless the virtuous, to forgive repentant sinners, and to divert all disasters from this city. We call upon the Queen Mother of the South to extend her protection in war and peace, and to grant the people of this city long life. We call upon the Stars of Happiness, Wealth and Rank to shine their blessings on the people. We call upon the Vermilion Bird, White Tiger, Black Warrior, Azure Dragon and Yellow Dragon to guard this city and its people.”
Up to this point, it was a rote, normal invocation. Tian put more strength in his back. It was time to begin the hard things.
“We invite the spirit of the Martyr Venerable to descend and take up the post of City God. We pray he will become the guardian of this place, forbidding all foreign spirits and ghosts, killing devils and beheading demons, exterminating all heretics. The City offers worship and incense. This celebrant also makes a personal offering.”
Tian’s fingers tightened, and breath caught, but there was no more perfect an offering than this.
“A jade rosary, long imbued with my vital energy, qi and shen.” He carefully rose, and hung his rosary around the wrist of the hand holding the demon’s finger. It hurt to let it go. Like he was losing something precious, something he should never be away from. A terrible anxiety fell on him. He instinctively reached for his rosary, but stopped his hands.
This was what a sacrifice was. And, in a way, he was returning the rosary to its rightful owner.
Liren stepped forward as Tian stepped back. “This celebrant makes a personal offering. I give this inscription to bless the shrine, in the hopes that the Venerable Martyr will rally the hearts of the people.”
She hung a scroll of yellow paper up on the rafters, letting it unfurl until it stopped just above the ground. From her ring, she pulled a brush almost four feet long, and a wide dish filled with a mixture of red ink and cinnabar. She dipped the brush, and began to write. Her movements were graceful, almost dancing, as the enormous brush wrote the trailing seal script. The nine characters descended from the rafters, radiating an unshakable will to advance. “When The Battle Comes, March Forward As One!”
Liren’s dao could be felt in every stroke. Rigid, advancing, even with hands covered in burst blisters from constantly thrusting out with the spear, and on feet torn by rocky soil. Ashamed, grieving, furious, and unwilling to take even one step back. This was a dao that led the way from pain to victory. Tian could hear the gasps of the people behind him. The breath of the City Protector and the Red Plumed General quickened, he could hear their hearts pounding, their blood roaring.
Tian stepped forward once more. “I will now open the eyes, that the Martyr Venerable might see the people!” He dipped a much smaller brush in the cinnabar ink. He carefully removed the red paper, reached inside the wooden mask, and gently painted pupils on the eyes. No one would see under the mask, but his qi carefully adjusted the face below. The artist really hadn’t known what to carve, and kept it rather blank. Tian did his best to recreate his face as it was when he visited the city. One day, someone might recognize the resemblance, but he rather doubted it. He wasn’t a very good artist.
With delicate hands and his full attention, he dotted the ears with cinnabar, then the glabella, then the crown of the statue’s head. “I call upon the Martyr Venerable to descend, awaken, and assume his post!”
Tian felt something. He couldn’t describe it even to himself. Like watching a flower bloom in a color with no name, or finding a tune in silence. Something in the statue changed. It recognized him. Tian thought it smiled. He didn’t see the statue move, but when he stepped back, the demon's finger was tucked into the statue’s belt, and the rosary was slowly turning in the Venerable’s hand.
A god had taken a government job, down in Burning Flag City.