Threads 494-Reception 3

Ling Qi followed Meng Dan’s gaze to the fountains where the strains of stringed instruments rose and pairs danced in courtly elegance.

She considered the dancers. “I can glean the patterns, but you’ll need to show me the steps.”

“Of course, Lady Ling. I do not mind at all.” Meng Dan gripped her hand tighter. He took a step, and she allowed him to lead her on. “The Eventide Procession originated with some early festivals to the moon and the changes in her procession from season to season. The movements evoke her stately arc through the houses of the night sky, inspecting the stars there for intrusion.”

Ling Qi eyed the circling pattern of the dance. There was no true formation work in it, but she could feel the slight stirring of the night air into harmonious patterns following the swirl of gowns and the movement of feet. “And why is it done in pairs?”

“Originally, one dancer would wear white, and the other black, and the exchange of places and lead in the dance would represent the phases. The version used for casual festivities has discarded this.”

He was very suave, but she could also feel some of his nerves. It bolstered her, knowing she wasn’t the only one with anxiety.

“I suppose limiting the color palette of all the guests would upset the courts.” .

They arrived by the edge of the fountain area, passing through the colorful stakes set along the edge of the field to separate it. In the back of her head, Ling Qi took in the beat of the music, dissected, and analyzed it. Harmonious progression: one step, two steps, three. A flowing pattern with the same beginning and end, each cycle proceeding cleanly into the next.

“Just so. I’m sure you’ve noticed the steps are looser than a pure ritual, too. Let’s wait for it to reset to the first movement.”

“Twenty beats,” Ling Qi said absently.

“Eighteen now. Keep it cool, Qi. You got this,” Sixiang whispered.

“If you’ll excuse my boldness then, Lady Ling,” Meng Dan said. His grip on her hand firmed up, and he reached out and took her other hand. With a gentle pull, he took her out among the other dancers.

Close. They were frightfully close, barely a few handsbreadths apart, facing each other. She was thankful for her cultivation, which allowed her to quickly match a rhythm without the stumbles and uncertainty of mortal steps.

“Clasp my leading hand. The other should rest on my shoulder,” Meng Dan instructed.

She did so, and his arm slid under hers, resting on her side. Close. Close. Too close.

She let out a calming breath as he led her through the first turn, the hem of her gown flaring out with the motion.

“Repeat the first two steps, then slide the leading foot out.”

He didn’t ask if she was okay nor did he pause or hesitate, even though she knew she must have felt like an ice sculpture under his hands, and showed about as much grace.

“Qi, you’re moving fine. You’re, uh, definitely a little chilly, but you’re moving fine.”

She appreciated having Sixiang back. Mist spilled from beneath her gown, swirling around her feet as she danced. A slight frost crawled across Meng Dan’s hand, which held hers. Ridiculous.

“Sorry about the chill.”

“If that were all it took to keep me away, I’d have no business in the contest,” Meng Dan murmured, meeting her eyes.

The temperature steadied, and so did she. “So, what period was this dance from?”

“Early post-consolidation, after the Sage assigned the dukedom to the submitted Weilu clans. It transferred from ritual dance to entertainment, partly from consolidating priestly roles into fewer hands. It was likely a bit of subversion at first from those who had lost their right to speak directly to the spirits,” Meng Dan answered.

Eight verses to the song naturally for the eight phases of the moon. Having pushed past her silliness, it was easier than ever to follow the steps in time with the other dancers. They spun, separated to the end of outstretched arms, and came back together.

“There’s still a bit of reverence in it. It’s diluted, but it still reflects the movement of the night sky.”

“It does,” Meng Dan acknowledged. “The leading role swaps ahead as we reach the reflecting. Have you absorbed enough?”

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“I have. I’ll not step on your toes, at least.”

The mild frost burn was probably worse than that, if she were honest. Meng Dan chuckled; she gave an apologetic smile.

“You know, I don’t believe I have ever seen you express your domain, Meng Dan,” Ling Qi commented. “Is it simply subtle, or is your control really so good?”

His heart was beating quickly, too.

“It may surprise you, but my domain is very inwardly focused. It is one reason I am not a strong practitioner of the dreaming way. My conception of the world is very physical.”

The next motion had them come together, barely a few centimeters apart as they swayed through this extended round of the dance. This must be the transition phase of the dance; with one in white, and the other in black, they would be the equal halves of the half moon.

“That surprises me,” Ling Qi said, keeping her voice steady. He was very handsome, at such a distance.

“People express great ideals, which often form the speartip of changing times, but in the end, it always comes back to material factors. Always comes back to the conditions of the world at the time the great leader, the ascending cultivator, was forming their Way. If the world is an illusion, a dream as some priests say, then I can only think that those terms have become broad to the point of meaninglessness.”

“Sounds a little heretical,” she joked.