141-Concert 4

A soft wind blew, cold and brisk. The flakes began to fall, dancing like airy crystals under the pale silver light of the moon. The cold wind blew from the mountain high where the eternal cold lives, and with the wind descended the maiden of winter, the daughter of ice. With a train of purest white and lilting song, the maiden descended to the valley below, and with her came the snow.

Peace, whispered the wind. Peace.

And the snow did fall.

Branches bare of leaves swayed in the soft, cold wind, and they whispered along to the maiden’s song as the flakes fell to paint the world in white. Across the valley brook danced the maiden with long hair of black, woven with crystal flowers. In her steps trailed calm, burbling waters falling silent under the spread of ice. In the forest around did the tall and tired trees bow at her passing, branches heavy with snow. They passed into slumber well earned through the year, and the creaking of wood joined the song of the wind and snow.

Under falling snow, the detritus of fall hid away, painted smooth by drifting white. Under maiden’s feet did signs of toil vanish, leaving only a land pristine and stark. Under the light of the moon, the maiden sang the silence of winter sleep. O beautiful maiden, most lovely of all; gone was the wilting decline of autumn, and distant were the chaos of spring and the toil of summer!

O winter, time of preservation and tales, when all the world quiets.

O winter, when the people gather and share the spoils of a year hard won.

O winter, time of remembrance, when past becomes present in the mind, and memories of days gone by warm the soul.

O winter, the time of cherishing, to hold tight what you have in the face of the cold.

O winter, who lives eternal upon the high mountaintop, forever and ever.

Outside danced the maiden. Her train was the wind, and her laugh, the rattle of window frames and the groan of roofs heavy with snow.

Outside was the maiden, who would never return home. Daughter of ice eternal, the drifting snow, and the whispering wind, who belonged now to the valley below.

***​

Ling Qi breathed deep as the song went on, the images of deepening winter dancing in her mind’s eye. Hanyi had been a little dishonest to say that the maiden was not her.

“I think I’ve been trying too hard to be different from Momma,” Hanyi had said dejectedly. “I want to do new things and live like she said, but I still want to be her daughter.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” Ling Qi had said. “It can be hard to find the right balance between who you were and who you want to be.”

“Especially when most of us can’t even easily say what we want to be,” Sixiang had interjected, their voice a chime among the hanging ice.

Hanyi had nodded, scuffing her foot in the dirt. “I’m not like Momma, but I’m still the winter. I don’t think I can be anything else. And I don’t really wanna be.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Ling Qi had said, resting her hand on Hanyi’s shoulder. “So, let’s figure out how to work that feeling in, okay?”

Ling Qi closed her eyes as the song reached its climax, a clash with the oncoming spring, a doomed battle that the maiden could not win.

With the spring came the melting of the snow and the rain, deluge, and chaos.

But winter would be back, and peace with it, if they only endured.

Polite applause rang out through the hall. Ling Qi gazed around her and saw that the guests seemed in good humor. Most did not seem particularly excited or touched by the song, but here and there, a few were.

Beside her, Meizhen offered quiet applause with a thoughtful look, and somewhere behind them, she heard Wang Chao giving loud approval.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Meng Diu, her expression indecipherable. As she watched, she saw the older woman shake out her sleeves, revealing dainty hands as powder white as her face. Meng Diu clapped three times.

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On the stage, Hanyi beamed as she lowered her upraised hands and bowed to the audience as the curtain fell.

In the time after the show, Ling Qi mingled with the rest of her guests. Hanyi stayed at her side the whole time and was unfailingly well behaved, almost sweet. It took Ling Qi a bit of effort not to laugh at what an inaccurate picture these young men and women were getting of her spirit, but she wasn’t going to ruin Hanyi’s fun.

Eventually, things wound down, and guests got on their way, leaving Ling Qi with her spirits and Bao Qian backstage. Hanyi sat balanced on Zhengui’s back, who had shrunk himself down to the size of a big dog to avoid doing any damage, and Bao Qian stood before them, counting out the night’s proceeds.

“And this is your share, Young Miss.” Bao Qian theatrically placed a small pouch in Hanyi’s hands. “A wonderful first performance. I hope you are ready to compose more songs in the future.”

“Uh huh!” Hanyi said excitedly, tugging the drawstrings of the pouch open. Inside were many glittering yellow stones and a single green one, shining like an emerald.

“That’s surprising for just entrance fees. How does this place stay open, charging in green stones?” Ling Qi asked. It didn’t seem like the clientele was that wealthy.