Threads 216-Friend and Foe 5

Ling Qi had an idea, and Sixiang was amenable to helping. “You make the sea sound beautiful, but I think the sky is a greater inspiration for artists.”

“As you have never seen it, that is unsurprising,” Xia Anxi replied. “The majesty and romance of the ocean is the pinnacle of the world’s beauty.”

“I don’t know,” Ling Qi said dubiously, keeping half an eye on the arena. It wasn’t something she was invested in, but it seemed to be working at getting him talking. “The sky is the vault of heaven, the closest the material world comes to the Father’s essence. It is the open canvas of the world, free for inspiration to strike like lightning and for creativity to blow in on the wind. Since it represents the world’s creative forces, it seems obvious that it would be superior.”

“I suppose one who followed modern orthodoxy would think so,” Xia Anxi allowed with some distaste. “The eight elements model is an artificial imposition on the world. It is the five elements model that better represents the world. The ocean, being the tears of the Nameless Father for his slain wife, is the ultimate representation of emotion, which is ultimately the source of art.”

Well, this was working, albeit with some condescension, but he was taking her seriously. She would have to thank Sixiang later for feeding her information.

<You can thank me by actually remembering this stuff and learning on your own,> Sixiang grumbled.

“I think water as a representation of persistence and stubborn advancement is more accurate,” Ling Qi debated. “Emotion is better represented by spontaneity. Is that not how passions work?”

“It is not spontaneity which makes art,” Xia Anxi disagreed, turning fully in his seat to face her. “Any dabbler may have inspiration. A true artist of song or pigment or any other type must have in them a persistence, a refusal to leave a work unfinished. This is the passion of the sea, deep and abiding, shaping the beauty of islands and beaches over eons with the wear of the waves.”

Ling Qi smiled faintly. “True, although I’d argue the wind does the same with the mountains and hills. But all the same, without inspiration and innovation, you will only endlessly repeat the styles of your ancestors.”

“And what is wrong with that?” he asked rhetorically. “To iterate again and again, this is how the world advances. So, too, with art. I study the work of my ancestors. There is no need to reject the past in order to create new things. They have given us tools. Only fools refuse to use them.”

“I suppose I have been told that I follow in the style of Grandmistress Lei, but my only teacher was the spirit Zeqing,” Ling Qi said, loosening her grip on her qi enough that her mentor’s name vibrated with the meaning underneath the base sound.

“A testament to the Grandmistress’ skill is that her style became so much a part of the world,” Xia Anxi said, a note of fervency in his voice. “That is what I mean. Even one with no learning uses the tools left behind by those such as her. The works of the Coral Serpent, first of our line, are much the same. Even the urchins and toughs of the docks sing her songs, crude as the rendition might be.”

Ling Qi tilted her head to the side. “How would you know what songs street urchins and laborers sing?”

Xia Anxi’s golden eyes widened marginally before his expression smoothed over. “I speak in metaphor, of course, to express how deeply a true grandmaster affects the world.”

“Right.” Ling Qi hid her suspicion. Something to file away for later. “To get back to the original point, I think the nature of the heavens is more expansive. Within it, you have the seasons from which my winter is drawn, and you have weather, which shapes both the people and the land. Crucially, it is omnipresent. Any person anywhere may look to it.

“It may be true that the majesty of the sea is exclusive to those who live on its shores and above or below the waves, but the rest of that is nonsense,” Xia Anxi dismissed, leaning upon the arm of his seat. “Weather arises from the cycle of rains, and even the winds arise from the interaction of sun and sea, fire and water, which is why it is absurd to class them as their own element. I shall grant you the seasons on technicality as the celestial movements may be considered a part of the heavens, but the depth of the seas are as infinite as the skies, the waves a match for any procession of clouds.”

He hummed a bar, and Ling Qi felt the change in the area’s qi.

Push and pull, everlasting. Pressure. Sunlight glinting on rippling wavers, the infinite colors glittering beneath clear blue water. Near weightless suspension, floating on the current of the world.

Life, blooming with vitality. Living clouds of fish, gleaming in the dappled light that extended beneath the surface, wonders and horrors on a scale greater than the dry lands above.

Mystery, deep and infinite. The black abyss where the sloping sands dropped off. The infinite expanse where not a single island remained in sight.

Drumming her fingers on the arm of her seat, Ling Qi hummed back.

Wide as the world, stretching beyond comprehension, wisps of white the only stains in an infinite expanse. The feeling of soaring, freedom from the bonds of the earth, able to travel whatever direction one wished.

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Colors, hues beyond counting splashed across the world, casting it in their light. The shadows of mountains and hills and cities silhouetted against the setting and rising sun. The white cloak of winter, setting all the world a-glitter. The stormy ides of spring, awakening chaos and bringing life to the world.

Noise and life. The howl of the wind through the mountaintops. The cries of birds migrating to and from far lands. The whisper of the breeze in the streets carrying all the scents of life.

“Ling Qi.” Cai Renxiang’s stern voice cut her off, and Ling Qi realized just how spiritually “loud” they had gotten.

“Xia Anxi.” Meizhen joined her, sounding more amused than stern.

“My apologies, Lady Cai,” Ling Qi said.

“It seems we became too enmeshed in our conversation,” Xia Anxi apologized as well, bowing his head.

Ling Qi privately had to admit that the discussion had been interesting. She hadn’t directly contested with another musician since that sect challenge against Yu Nuan early in the year. Maybe she should do it more often in the future. She had felt her music was stagnating lately.

<Oh, Moons. is it time to actually wrangle some musical theory into this head of yours? Besides me, I mean,> Sixiang teased.

“It is no concern,” Meizhen dismissed. “But the matches are beginning.”

“It would be rude to ignore them,” Cai Renxiang backed her up.