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    Sixiang snorted into their cup, shoulders shaking.

    “What?” Ling Qi demanded.

    “Nothing,” Sixiang said innocently.

    Her eyes narrowed. “This is some dirty thing you won’t explain again, isn’t it?”

    “Definitely not,” Sixiang said solemnly, placing their hand over their heart. “Unless you want me to?”

    “No. Come on, I can smell some wine from this direction. I’m not going to drink whatever that is, but I should still get into the spirit of the festivities.”

    “It’s not bad, but the fire qi probably wouldn’t play nice with your guts.”

    Ling Qi made a face as they hopped down from the awning. “I’d rather not have to spend an hour cultivating my way through indigestion, no.”

    “You could always let it pass the mortal way,” Sixiang teased.

    “Absolutely not,” Ling Qi snapped. Moons, she hadn’t had to do that in over a year, and she never would again, if she had her way. “I’m not going to let you drink any more if it makes you so vulgar.”

    “I’ll be good!”

    She would believe that never.

    Tugging on the muse’s hand, they wove their way into the crowd. Not long ago, she would have found the intense pressure and heat of the crowd anxiety-inducing, every brush against her arm a potential attack, keeping her back up and her shoulders stiff. It was no wonder she had been awful at parties, except for standing up on the stage and playing music. Part of her wanted to spin up into the air, materialize a flute from frost and shadow, and set herself to the same role even now, but she wasn’t out here tonight to be the center of any kind of attention. Tonight, she was a shadow again, if not a fearful one.

    “We’ll just ignore the little dive through the foam, eh?” Sixiang asked cheekily.

    “Everyone has already forgotten that, and so should you.”

    “Down the memory hole! But I getcha. You’re people watchin’ today, and that’s no good if the people are watchin’ you. Sides, no offense, but the talent already up there is a better fit for this kind of party.”

    Grudgingly, Ling Qi admitted, “You’re not wrong.”

    The energetic beat of drums thudded in her ears, and the heavy cry of bass-tuned strings sang in the air. It was of a family with Ling Nuan’s style, if diverged. Her clan member’s music was angry and forceful, whereas this was more rolling and bombastic, yet both contained a hot energy. The bars were constructive and repetitive. It was music meant to be danced to, to be clapped with, to be shouted over, or sung by drunken voices without losing its potency.

    Even she could feel the urge to bob her head to the beat.

    It was far from the icy refinement and faux friendliness of her very first imperial parties that Cai Renxiang had hosted in the inner sect. She wasn’t so childish as to pretend those didn’t have their purposes, but…

    “I’d rather be here any day,” Sixiang finished.

    She nodded.

    Restraint was crucial to keeping the world turning amidst the clashing egos of the cultivator world. Strict lines and boundaries on what was acceptable kept intractable Ways out of conflict and prevented words from spilling over into raised fists and unsheathed swords. At the same time, a release was necessary. People were not made to be controlled all the time. Most of them weren’t able to, not until they were much further along their Way.

    That was what this music was. It was like the vent at the top of a furnace, releasing steam, heat, and power in a controlled explosion. She wondered if this was closer to the originating grandmaster’s vision, or if Ling Nuan’s heartfelt rage captured the spirit better.

    Bao Qian was right. She really did need to study her musical history. It was embarrassing not to be able to answer that question.


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    “Neither’s exactly on the dot,” Sixiang commented. “The conditions of the composition have changed, ya know?” Sixiang peered up at the burly, red-faced man bringing his sticks down in a hammering rhythm across the stretched hide of his drums. The pressure wave of each beat ruffled hair and tugged at robes and gowns in the nearby crowd.

    “That guy… He was angry. His music was an accusing finger jabbed at the heavens, but the anger and energy of your new sis is different. Comes from something humbler, yeah?”

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