The Crane Moon Cycle Duology, page 17
“Hah,” said Liu Chenguang, “I do know how. I just am using all my qi to heal my leg.”
“I know. Don’t feel bad about it.” He leaned back against a rock and drew Liu Chenguang further under his arm, draping his own robe around him. He’d have to use qi to stay warm himself and to generate warmth for Liu Chenguang as well. “Go to sleep, taine.”
Liu Chenguang said, “Thank you for worrying about me.”
“Mm,” he said, feeling sleepy and comfortable. “So silly. Don’t show off skills you don’t have next time. I know you’re good at other things.”
Liu Chenguang’s hair smelled pleasant — a blend of medicinal herbs and incense. He yawned; producing so much warmth was tiring. “We can…we can work on the qinggong another time…”
After a while, Liu Chenguang asked, “How old are you now, tainu?”
Hong Deming had set his concentration on using his qi to create enough warmth for both of them and had planned to fall asleep that way, but Liu Chenguang’s questions kept distracting him. When he lost his focus, he realized that somehow their bodies had become closely intertwined, and he felt a little awkward. Liu Chenguang was still small, but the weight and shape of his body half-lying on his own was no longer that of a child. He coughed and tried to straighten up a little bit, refocusing on warmth. “I’m almost twenty, I’ll have my adulthood ceremony soon.”
“Oh. You told me before that when you’ve had your ceremony you’ll go to the Peaceful River sect too, won’t you?”
“That’s what Taiqian wants for me. He wants me to spend a few years focused on qin cultivation under their sect leader. I’m already advanced enough here.”
“And you’ll have a spiritual sword?”
“Yes, certainly that will be soon. I’ll have to go into seclusion for that myself.”
Liu Chenguang looked up at him. “I’m eighteen. Zhu Guiren will come soon to make the decision, but Taiqian thinks I probably only need one more period of seclusion before my cultivation foundation is set. Then, I’ll leave with him to study. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“You’ll come back someday,” he said, confidently. “We both will. This is our home.” He looked down at Liu Chenguang, at his eyes, shining in the starlight beneath his lashes.
Liu Chenguang’s eyes were always bright and interested in the world, but now they looked rather soft and sad.
Impulsively, Hong Deming said, “Don’t worry, taine. We’ll always see each other again. Eventually, you’ll be done with all this time of seclusion and your life will get easier. I know it’s been hard for you.” He carefully pressed on his shoulder, comforting. “With Zhu Guiren, you’ll see so much of the world. Maybe even the emperor and the court. You’ll learn so many things and meet many new people. You won’t need to worry about whether you can do the same things we ordinary disciples can because you’ll be able to do so much more. There are thousands of people that can use swords, but you will be a divine physician. There’s no one like you, taine.”
Liu Chenguang smiled. “There’s no one like you either, tainu.”
He felt absurdly warmed and checked to see if he’d been overdoing it with the qi generation. He patted Liu Chenguang’s shoulder again. “Shh. Time to sleep.”
Chapter 11
Seclusion
Liu Chenguang had been in his final time of seclusion for a month already when Taiqian directed Hong Deming to enter.
As a very young disciple, Hong Deming had entered the spiritual caverns soon after he first formed his well of qi for a brief ceremony, but never since then. Secluded cultivation was reserved for particularly important steps in a cultivator’s life, and highly-advanced practitioners that had reached a plateau in their cultivation would sometimes enter seclusion for years at a time in order to reach a breakthrough. Aside from this, a young cultivator in the Crane Moon sect would normally enter only when they had reached the point of developing a spiritual weapon.
Hong Deming knew that it would be dark and quiet and that there was a risk, as for everyone, of qi deviation during the intensity of this cultivation period. Beyond that, he had no idea what to expect.
Taiqian led him through the winding corridors inside the mountain, concentrating on finding an area that would be most appropriate for Hong Deming’s cultivation. He ended up choosing a cavern with a small, clear stream running over a bed of silvery pebbles. The sound was peaceful, enticing — Hong Deming liked it immediately. He saluted Taiqian silently; Taiqian departed in equal silence.
Until he had a spiritual sword, he would not speak, or eat, or drink, or leave the cavern.
The darkness was complete. The only sounds were the quiet trickle of water, his own breathing, his own heartbeat. In a lotus position, he slowed both and practiced quieting his mind. There were many scriptures appropriate to seclusion, but he found that none of them suited his inner direction. Instead, he opened his mind completely to silence — only the sound of the stream, only the pebbles being slowly worn away into their new forms.
At first, he saw lights and images in his mind, and he let them go and come as they would. None left a mark and eventually, they, too, disappeared. Repeated words, phrases, obsessive thoughts, came and fell down into silence. His emotions — sorrow, loss, fear, anxiety, joy, memories of the past, imaginations of the future — all observed and released. He felt his stomach contract, longing for food, sometimes even making noises demanding it; eventually, that also wore away, like all the senses of his body. Like the pebbles beneath the stream. Like the water in the veins of the earth, he directed the qi of his body through his meridians, gradually sensing its increase in strength and purity.
There was now no boundary between his body and the darkness, and no difference between darkness and light. The qi within his body was no different than the qi of the living world around him. Like the water of the stream, it came from one place and went to another, but was all of one being in the end.
His awareness touched on other living beings, and he felt something.
Out of the darkness, beyond time, he felt something new — something in his heart that had no name, a longing for which he could place no object. Unlike all that had come before, this longing disturbed his equanimity. It called his heart out from his body, and his body out from life into the dark to seek what he so desperately needed, what he could not put a name to. Would he even know it when he found it? He flailed in the darkness, seeking in all directions for the thing without which he could not live. His heart called out in desperation, crying for something undiscovered and unknown.
His breathing broke its rhythm.
With the shift came the need to control his breathing again, and with the need for control came the loss of connection to the qi rushing through him.
Hong Deming was consciously aware that he was spiraling into qi deviation; the qi in his meridians surged beyond his body’s capacity to contain it. As though from a great distance, he knew that his body was in pain. There was a small, glowing figure doubled over, convulsing, blood coming from the seven orifices. This body did not have a connection with his ability to control it, no matter how much he desired to do so. The borders had been blurred and broken. He could no longer set the boundaries of the qi flooding in and overwhelming him.
Suddenly, there was a second body rushing in, a body with intention and awareness and control. This body knelt down and touched his face with fingers that shone blood red. He could feel it touching him — his eyes, his nostrils, his ears, his lips — anointing him.
With a rush, he was back inside his body, gasping for air. He could feel hands on him, hear breathing that was not his own, though he couldn’t see anything at all. But in the complete darkness, touch and scent and hearing were increased beyond any normal sensitivity. From the breath, from the shape of the fingers lightly touching his lips, from the faint scent of herbs and incense, he said, without thinking, breaking the silence of seclusion for both of them, “Liu Chenguang.” His voice was hoarse with disuse.
The fingers on his lips were removed, then placed firmly on his heart meridian, still in silence. He could feel Liu Chenguang’s long hair brushing his wrist; he must be leaning over closely. Hong Deming shivered all over with the increased sensitivity to touch. He could feel, now, the warmth of qi entering from Liu Chenguang’s fingers — a stream that went throughout his meridians, calming and healing everything that was there, all the chaos smoothed out.
“Don’t. Not good for you,” Hong Deming said, and tried to move his arm, but Liu Chenguang firmly grasped it, and he was too weak to move away.
When the fingers were removed, Hong Deming was able to bring himself back into a lotus position without pain. His mind felt clear and peaceful again. He regretted that he had broken Liu Chenguang’s seclusion and had even required him to use qi for healing, but he had truly needed it. He didn’t think that there was anything he could have done to save himself. Cultivators risked death in qi deviation from seclusion. He had known this going in. Only because Liu Chenguang had been there, had taken the risk of injuring his own cultivation to save him, was Hong Deming still alive. There was nothing he could do about this now except determine how to repay Liu Chenguang in the future.
As he felt Liu Chenguang move next to him, he reached out and took his wrist, smoothing out his closed fingers and palm. Carefully, he wrote the character for gratitude, en, in the palm of Liu Chenguang’s hand. The hand remained in his own for another moment, warm and quiet, peaceful, then was softly withdrawn.
He heard the steps, felt the warmth of the living person withdraw from his cavern, still in silence, leaving him alone.
There was no way to know time’s passing in the cavern, but there came a moment when he reached his hand into the darkness and felt it close around the hilt of a sword; he named it En. Gratitude.
He then stood up and walked out into the world again with the sword in his hand.
He had been in seclusion for six months.
Hong Deming formally presented the sword to Taiqian and told him its name and what had happened in seclusion without hiding either his qi deviation or the fact that he owed his life to Liu Chenguang.
Taiqian looked serious about this. “Liu Chenguang did not mention this when he left seclusion, and has already departed with Zhu Guiren for his further training,” he said slowly. “I will write to Zhu Guiren and tell him. It may be important for him to know in case it has serious effects for him later.”
Hong Deming felt as clear and calm as a still pond, but the realization that Liu Chenguang was no longer at Crane Moon was a stone that caused ripples in his mind.
Taiqian must have noticed this in his face. “Are you distressed that your taine has gone?”
“I wanted to thank him properly.”
“You’ll have a chance in the future. You owe him a debt, certainly. Zhu Guiren told the truth that day when he said that someone on the healing path would be an asset to our sect. Your life is already repayment for having offered him a home here.” He added, “When Shen Lu becomes the sect leader, I will enter seclusion myself for a while, but he knows about Liu Chenguang’s special status. I’ll be sure that he knows as well that he has shown himself to be a devoted and loyal taine to you in this way.”
In his post-seclusion clarity, Hong Deming realized what lay beneath these words: Taiqian had doubts about Liu Chenguang, and these doubts were shared by Shen Lu. Why would this be, when Liu Chenguang was so obviously a good person? But,he also felt clearly that this was not the time to ask, even if he had the status to question Taiqian about such a thing. He only said, “I’ll always be grateful that he is my taine.”
“You named your sword En for this reason. For your gratitude for him.”
“Yes, that’s why.”
Taiqian nodded slowly. “In regard to your qi deviation, it seems that it was caused by an unrestrained longing. Did the desire have an object?”
“No. I couldn’t tell what it was that I wanted or needed, yet it seemed that if I didn’t have it…” He tried to put it into words. “It seemed that if I didn’t have…whatever it was…that everything would fall apart, somehow. Nothing as simple as death, but that everything would…” He trailed off, helplessly. “The fear of not finding what I was seeking — it made me so terrified that I lost control of everything.”
“Unrestrained desire without an object…this is what you will need to work on during your next phase of cultivation,” Taiqian responded. “It may be that you need to discover what it is that you truly desire, or it may be that you need to let go of desire entirely. Both of these are possible cultivation paths, and desire can take many forms and have many objects, not all of which are acceptable or attainable. But, to desire so deeply and not know what it is that you desire…that path is clearly not one that you can continue to walk indefinitely. This is what your sword seclusion has shown you. For this self-knowledge, be grateful to your sword as well.”
He bent his head. “Yes, Taiqian.”
“In two weeks, it will be time for your crowning as an adult. Spend time between now and then on getting to know the ways of your new sword, and on qin. Nothing more than those two things. After your adulthood ceremony, you will travel to the Peaceful River sect for training with qin cultivation.” He added, “Peaceful River sect is less strict than the Crane Moon in some ways. While you are there, make wise decisions, but don’t judge harshly or be too quick to refuse their invitations. Crane Moon’s path is strong, but narrow, like a sword blade. Sometimes, it’s good for the spirit to experience the world differently before one comes back home.”
Hong Deming looked at him, confused.
Taiqian shook his head, smiling a little. “You know that your sect mother came from the Peaceful River sect. So does Shen Lu’s wife. It often happens that leaving Crane Moon to visit another sect or to wander beyond the bounds is a time to explore human relationships, and that is appropriate at your time of life. You are an adult. Your decisions are your own. Only marriage needs to be approved by the Crane Moon. That’s all I want you to know, speaking as your Taiqian — that it’s not forbidden, even if it’s not the way we live here within our own sect home.”
“I don’t think…” he said, stumbling. “I just have never…I don’t think I’m ready to consider marriage yet.”
“No need until you are ready.” Taiqian stood up, handing him back the sword. “Liu Chenguang will never achieve a spiritual sword. Though he is my youngest disciple in name, you are my youngest in the Crane Moon sword path. The name of your sword is appropriate. I, too, am grateful that you have completed your cultivation and can now go out into the world.”
Hong Deming placed the sword by his side, knelt, and bowed his head to the ground, palms flat. The words he spoke were formal, but they were truly in his heart as well: “This humble person is grateful to Taiqian for his life and teaching. This insignificant person will strive not to dishonor the Crane Moon sect.”
The crowning ceremony was accompanied by a feast of departure not only for Hong Deming leaving for Peaceful River, but for Taiqian entering secluded cultivation; Shen Lu, Hong Deming’s tainu, would now be sect leader and Taiqian to a new generation of disciples. The feast was thus a double celebration.
No one seemed to remember that Liu Chenguang was really the youngest disciple, not Hong Deming. He felt this a little painfully — that no one but him seemed to remember Liu Chenguang at all, or care that he wasn’t present. Nonetheless, Liu Chenguang would always be his taine. Nothing on earth could change that. There would be years and years ahead for them to be together at the sect. The others would realize what a wonderful person he was, and that even if his cultivation was different from everyone else’s, he was valuable for that very reason.
Hong Deming left the next morning, riding toward Zhashan, first down the gorge path, then down progressively larger and busier roads and highways to the great capital — or, the capital that had once been, before the new Son of Heaven moved it to Gunan.
Zhashan was a city almost in ruins after its repeated sackings, lootings, rebellions, and forced removals. Hong Deming sat outside of the walls that remained, watching the few inhabitants trying to reconstruct their lives, the scavengers trying to find whatever they could to fill tonight’s cookpot. This had been a city of almost a million people, he had read in the library of the Crane Moon. Monasteries and abbeys, palaces and ponds, marketplaces, brothels, foreigners and flowers and fruit trees — all were now gone.
Zhashan was where Taiqian had found him as an abandoned child. He thought he might be able to find the place, or the people that cared for him, but this was clearly impossible. Out of those million people, he would never know who had given birth to him or given him his name. He watched a small child eat spoiled vegetables from the ground and his heart ached, but when he offered dried fruit from his supplies the child ran in terror.
After wandering the rubble-strewn streets, he continued his journey toward Gunan. The highway was growing more crowded, and bandits preyed on wealthier travelers. Since he was a cultivator from a righteous sect, he was called upon to protect various groups, and didn’t mind doing so in return for food and conversation. One such group was conveying a young woman and her dowry to her new husband in Gunan, and although they had initially had many guards, it was so obviously an excellent target that they had already been attacked multiple times since setting out. Hong Deming wasn’t naturally given to solitude; after his seclusion, the lonely journey, and the depression of seeing the ruins of Zhashan, he was eager to spend time with human beings again, hearing them laugh and tell stories and share food together.
