Chapter 9- How Heavy a Dream

They were led to a small pavilion, no distinction being made between those in the Heavenly and Earthly realms. It was all much the same to these great ones. Tian couldn’t help but find the thought a bit funny. You fought and schemed and adventured for centuries, and “Sorry! Any random dog or cat is so far above you, they can’t be bothered to even glance at you. Keep working at it, ‘lil fella, and one day you can be a real cultivator!”

Did the rule about taking things and paying a price extend to everything? To the water? Tian had a sinking feeling it did. The Dawnlight Lark repeatedly used the example of blowing leaves and blades of grass, even stray words had a price. It seemed exhausting.

It’s not as bad as you think. They aren’t out to screw over people, they are just so much stronger than you that almost everything in here has the potential to ruin your life or outright kill you. A stray word potentially included. “Price” in this case might be as simple as the bucket being really, really heavy, or the rope being very long, or something.

Tian sincerely hoped Grandpa was right. There was a well out back of the pavilion. He would have to check and see. Though…

“Really, Grandpa? A stray word?”

Directed to you? Oh yes. Think about how you are picking apart that little bird’s words, knowing that you will be affected by them for years and years to come. Hell, the whole reason you are bothering with the flute was an elder’s whim and sense of aesthetics. It doesn’t take much, and at their level, they are keenly sensitive to the ripples their actions have on those weaker than them. They are far more casual when dealing with peers, I can promise you that. You wouldn’t believe how weird these little bastards get after a few thousand years. I once knew a man who wasn’t safe to leave unattended around three legged stools, and he was the normal one in his little band of immortals.”

Tian was going to protest characterizing the Dawnlight Lark as “That little bird,” but kept his mental mouth shut. If he asked something, Grandpa might explain about the three legged stool, and he desperately did not want to know. He focused on the Lark. The Dawnlight Lark was one of the weakest people in the Myriad Colors Holy Land. She couldn’t even come and go here as she pleased. Perhaps she needed to be silent unless spoken to as well.

She does, believe it. Especially if she is the student of the local hegemon. The last thing the rest of the critters around here want to do is lead the Boss’ precious disciple astray.

The pavilion was elegant in its simplicity. No decoration, no carvings, no calligraphy or pottery or flower arrangement were present. It was just four walls, a roof, and some cells. One curious thing was that there was no shared space in the pavilion- each room opened directly onto a wide porch. There was no sitting room, no library, no kitchen or dining room. There were just cells for sleeping in. Not very big ones either.

It wasn’t a snub, he realized. It was like what the Lark said about his flute. The instrument wasn’t important. He was. The way in which these titanic elders expressed their dao wasn’t important. He would receive it regardless, with unknown consequences from the unguided transmission. As recklessly irresponsible as handing a loaded crossbow to a child, or closing your eyes and shooting it around a nursery. If he wanted decorations, he could go get them. If he could pay the price. For example, a century or two of his service in exchange for some half-hearted calligraphy or a demonstration of a sword slash.

Not wildly different from what went on in the sect, in a way. All the servant disciples, scurrying around the low country in exchange for the life changing guidance of the sect.

He didn’t have anything to organize. He had entrusted the Wangs with feeding the Fortune Calling Toad once a month, so that was alright. His garden would get overrun and the vegetables would likely struggle, but that was alright too. There really was only one thing that wasn’t alright.

Tian took a moment to fix his robes and make sure his bun was pinned up immaculately. He steadied his breath, then he went to Liren’s room. He knocked gently on the door, but didn’t say anything. She knew who it was. She could feel his breath as plainly as he could feel hers.

She didn’t answer. Tian folded his hands in front of him, and waited.

And waited.

The shadows cast by the pillars moved. Tian didn’t.

The door eventually opened. Liren looked haggard. “Come in. Leave the door open. Please.”

Tian walked in, finding Liren’s room was no different from his own.

“You would have waited all day and all night. I could feel you. I know you. Something’s wrong with me, and you can’t stand it, so you are going to fix it. Which means I have to tell you what’s wrong.”

Tian nodded.

She stared at the floor, still unwilling to look straight at him.

“Zihao… do you have the resolve to kill me?”

Tian blinked at that. He was usually the one accused of saying the dumbest thing imaginable. Clearly Liren had decided to take that crown for herself.

“No.”

She sighed, covering her head with her hands, crouching over on herself. “Because we are dao companions. And you ‘more than just friends’ like me.”

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“Is love such a bad word?”

“Under the circumstances, yes.” He could hear her forcing her breath to be steady. “Sometimes, you just have to kill someone. For everyone’s sake. Even for the sake of the one you kill.”

“I am quite sure you aren’t that person though, Liren. Is it the forgiveness-”

“NO! NO! Don’t say that! Don’t say that word!” She shouted, then crashed to the floor, curling up tight. Tian was paralyzed. He had never seen her like this before. He had no idea what to do.

He reached his hand towards her, and he saw her flinch away. Hard. He sighed and sat on the bed instead. “What did you see in the illusion array, Liren? What trick on your mind hurt you so badly, you would rather I killed you than live with it?”

She laughed bitterly. “I don’t want you to kill me now. I’m on my knees begging my ancestors that the day never comes. I just need you to promise me that if it does, you will kill me. You won’t… do anything else. Just kill me, and get on with your life. No suicide pact bullshit. Just death, stow my body in a ring and toss the ring into a furnace or some damn thing. Give it to a passing migrating bird.”