Chương 45: Lìchūn: Connection 9

Two days later, Liu Yinhua tastes dust again. It is not a poetic sort of dust. It does not remind her of old roads, dry wind, or the impermanence of all worldly things. It is simply dust, bitter on her tongue and gritty between her teeth, kicked up from the practice yard by forty outer disciples being made to run, fall, rise, run again, and then pretend Elder Huan has not noticed which of them are slowing. Elder Huan notices everything. By the end of the morning, Liu Yinhua's arms tremble when she lowers them.

Sweat has dried and returned twice under her collar. Her braid has begun to come apart at the nape of her neck, and one strand of hair keeps sticking to the corner of her mouth no matter how often she blows at it. There is a bruise forming along her hip where she hit the packed earth badly. Another at the back of her left shoulder. One across the outside of her forearm, green-yellow already, from blocking a staff with more confidence than skill.

But when Elder Huan dismisses them, she does not feel as if the world is about to tilt sideways. That is new. She stands in the thin shade near the yard wall and lets her breath settle. It returns faster than it once did. Her heart still beats hard, but not wildly. Heat moves through her limbs with the slow, thick ache of worked muscle, and under it there is something else. A tightness. A pressure beneath the skin, green and stubborn. Wood Body, the early stage, was nearly done with her, she thinks.

She had entered it like someone half-falling through a door, mostly because her body had been too empty and too desperate to resist what cultivation was doing to it. Since then, it has been less dramatic and more irritating. Food. Sleep. Repetition. Elder Huan's exercises. Tang Mingxia's corrections. Xie Lianqiu making her draw a bow until her shoulders hated everyone. More food. More sleep. More repetition. It is working. The physical cultivation stages are still strange to think of as belonging to her.

Wood, Stone, Iron, Steel, Gold. Each divided again into early, middle, and peak, as if the body can be measured like timber, ore, and forged metal. Wood is the first strengthening. Tendons, breath, balance, recovery. Flesh that bends and returns instead of simply bruising and staying bruised. Liu Yinhua presses two fingers into the mark on her forearm and hisses quietly through her teeth. Tang Mingxia notices, of course.

She is too neat after physical cultivation in a way Liu Yinhua distrusts on principle, dusty only at the hem and along one sleeve, her hairpin still fixed as if Elder Huan's exercises had merely been an impolite weather condition. Her attention lingers on Liu Yinhua's stance, on the way she recovers her breath, on the brief pressure of fingers against bruised skin. Tang Mingxia does not need to say much for Liu Yinhua to know she has been measured.

Close, Tang Mingxia tells her later, in the sharp, precise way she has of making even encouragement sound like a correction. Close to Wood Middle, though not close enough to force it after a morning under Elder Huan and before further martial training. Liu Yinhua does not argue, mostly because Tang Mingxia has become very good at noticing when Liu Yinhua is considering something unwise. The spiritual side is not much safer. Tang Mingxia notices that too. Liu Yinhua's lower dantian has not felt empty in days.

It sits warm and heavy inside her, a covered pot left near coals. Each cultivation session gathers qi a little more readily. Each circulation makes the routes through her body feel less imagined. There is a threshold there as well, not far. Not today, Tang Mingxia says. Not while tired, hungry, bruised, and half inclined to confuse impatience for readiness.

When Liu Yinhua is done with the Crimson Wastes disciples, Tang Mingxia will walk her through the signs properly and explain how to approach this partial breakthrough without damaging her foundation. Liu Yinhua accepts this with what she feels is very reasonable dignity. She also eats because Tang Mingxia is correct. Rice, greens, two boiled eggs, a bowl of soup with thin strips of meat, and three small buns she did not intend to take until she realised her hands had already done so.

Her appetite still startles her. Mortal hunger had been something to manage around work and debt and who was watching her eat. She finds herself aching for not having to sleep, to eat, to drink as the upper cultivators can do, as she notices Tang Mingxia does for long stints. It reminds her that she should really get an actual grasp on her friend's cultivation level. By the time she reaches the smaller western training yard, the sun has shifted past its worst heat, though the stone still holds warmth.

The Crimson Wastes disciples are already there. Chi Yanluo stands near a spread of wooden markers laid out across the ground. Duan Xueheng crouches beside him, arranging them with the sort of quiet attention that makes Liu Yinhua suspect he has already rearranged them twice. Shen Yuanzhou is balancing a practice spear across one shoulder and looking deeply wronged by whatever Xie Lianqiu is saying to him. Xie Lianqiu sees Liu Yinhua first. Her face lights before she seems to remember she might wish to be subtle.

She is not subtle.

"Liu Yinhua is with us for the trial," Xie Lianqiu announces, before Liu Yinhua has finished crossing the yard. Shen Yuanzhou turns.

"Were we pretending this was uncertain?"

"Yes," Xie Lianqiu says.

"Be respectful of the illusion."

"Oh." Shen Yuanzhou gives Liu Yinhua a quick, bright smile.

"Then congratulations on your very convincing illusion."

"It was not that convincing," Duan Xueheng says, without looking up from the markers. Liu Yinhua stops beside them and folds her hands together.

"This is a very formal welcome."

"We can do formal," Shen Yuanzhou says at once, straightening.

"No," Xie Lianqiu says.

"I know several formal things."

"You know how to stand still for almost a full minute."

"That is one of them!" Chi Yanluo lets them finish, or perhaps simply waits for the noise to settle. His gaze turns to Liu Yinhua, steady and serious enough that the teasing shifts back into its proper place.

"For the trial?" he asks.

"For the trial," Liu Yinhua says.

"Good." Chi Yanluo nods once.

"Then we plan for that. Nothing after unless you choose it." Liu Yinhua keeps her face still. Xie Lianqiu looks at a point over Shen Yuanzhou's shoulder with great interest. So she had told them that much, at least. Liu Yinhua knows that. Xie Lianqiu would not. But enough to make a boundary before Liu Yinhua had to set it herself in front of them.

"Thank you," Liu Yinhua says. Chi Yanluo accepts it without making her explain which part she means. Only when the first shape of the formation has been marked out does Liu Yinhua realise something is missing. She looks from the markers, to Xie Lianqiu's bow, to Shen Yuanzhou's spear, to the empty stretch of sky above the western yard.

"Where is A'Ying?" she asks. Chi Yanluo glances up as if the bird might appear merely because someone has mentioned him. The severity of his face eases at once into something warmer and faintly rueful.

"Sulking," he says. Liu Yinhua blinks." Sulking?"

"He has decided sect squirrels are beneath his dignity, and sect sparrows are beneath his skill." Shen Yuanzhou nods with great sympathy.

"A very difficult artistic period." Xie Lianqiu snorts. Chi Yanluo smiles, not widely, but enough to change him. It makes him look younger. Less like the calm centre of a border clan's young disciples, and more like a boy who has spent too many years trying to look like one.

"Ge is circling the northern ridge," he says.

"There are warm drafts there in the afternoon. If he sees anything strange, he will come down and tell me. If he sees nothing strange, he will still come down and tell me, but more proudly."

"That sounds useful."

"He thinks so."

"He is useful," Shen Yuanzhou says at once, loyal and bright.

"He found my missing glove last week."

"He was the one who took it," Xie Lianqiu says.

"That does not make finding it less impressive!" Liu Yinhua looks back to Chi Yanluo.

"Will he be with us in the trial?"

"If the elders allow spirit companions, yes. If they do not, she will be offended from outside the valley." Chi Yanluo shifts one of the markers with his foot.

"Either way, I would not count on him for what we cannot do ourselves. He is clever, but he is not a formation." From somewhere high above, a sharp cry cuts across the yard. Chi Yanluo tilts his head back. A dark-winged shape wheels once against the sun, far too high to see clearly, then vanishes beyond the roofline. His mouth curves.

"And now he knows we were talking about him."

"He heard us from there?" Liu Yinhua asks.

"No," Chi Yanluo says.

"She guessed. She is very vain." Shen Yuanzhou lowers the spear from his shoulder.

"So. Our fifth is official." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"For the trial," Liu Yinhua reminds him.

"For the trial," Shen Yuanzhou agrees immediately, and there is no cleverness in it this time.

"Still good." This sincerity is worse than teasing in some ways. Liu Yinhua looks down at the wooden markers instead.

"I may have found a sixth." Chi Yanluo's attention sharpens.

"Who?"

"Xu Qinghe, a first year medical hall worker."

"Can they move?" Duan Xueheng asks.

"I do not know yet."

"Can they follow instruction under pressure?" Chi Yanluo asks.

"I do not know yet."

"Can they keep up if we have to run?"

"I do not know yet." Shen Yuanzhou absorbs this with visible effort.

"That is several things we do not know."

"Yes," Liu Yinhua says.

"But you still thought of them."

"Yes."

"Then there is something." Xie Lianqiu glances at him, expression softening for half a breath before she hides it by adjusting her bow. Liu Yinhua continues, "They asked the right question." That quiets them more effectively than she expected. Chi Yanluo folds his arms.

"Which was?"

"Who keeps the back." Duan Xueheng pauses with one marker still in his hand. Xie Lianqiu nods, once, pleased. Shen Yuanzhou opens his mouth, then stops himself before Xie Lianqiu can point at him. He frowns at the markers instead, taking the question seriously enough that Liu Yinhua's attention catches on it. After a moment, he says, "Not one person. If one person is always at the back, everyone else starts trusting the position instead of watching it." Duan Xueheng sets the marker down.

"Yes." Shen Yuanzhou looks relieved.

"Good. I was worried that was going to sound cleverer in my head."

"It was useful," Chi Yanluo says. That makes Shen Yuanzhou brighter again, ridiculously. Chi Yanluo crouches beside the markers.

"If Xu Qinghe joins, they do not stand at the very back. No healer does. Middle-rear. Close enough to reach injuries, far enough not to meet the first charge."

"Who covers them?" Liu Yinhua asks.

"All of us, by rotation," Chi Yanluo says. Duan Xueheng moves three markers into a loose curve.

"Terrain decides the shape. In a narrow path, I take rear because I can hold space. In open ground, Xie Lianqiu watches angles. If we are moving fast, Shen Yuanzhou intercepts anything that tries to cut in." Shen Yuanzhou nods at once.

"I can do that."

"You can," Duan Xueheng says.

"If you remember that intercepting does not mean chasing." Shen Yuanzhou winces.

"I remember sometimes."

"You need to remember every time."

"I will remember every time for the trial." Duan Xueheng studies him for a breath, then nods. It is not teasing. But it is acceptance, and Shen Yuanzhou seems to take it as such. Chi Yanluo taps one of the markers.

"Which is why we make signals. If Xu Qinghe says stop because someone is injured, someone listens."

"Who?" Liu Yinhua asks. Chi Yanluo looks at her. She keeps her hands folded.

"Someone listening is often very different from everyone agreeing they should have listened afterward." Xie Lianqiu looks openly pleased. Chi Yanluo does not take offence. If anything, he looks more certain.

"I listen. If I cannot, Duan Xueheng listens. If neither of us can, Xie Lianqiu calls retreat." Shen Yuanzhou lifts a hand.

"And if I am the only one able to listen?" Xie Lianqiu opens her mouth.

"Then you listen," Chi Yanluo says first. Shen Yuanzhou's expression settles.

"I listen."

"Materials?" she asks.

"Shared by contribution," Chi Yanluo says.

"Spirit beast parts, herbs, cores, any useful remains. If Xu Qinghe works as healer, their share reflects that."

"And if they are slower?"

"Then our pace accounts for our team." Xie Lianqiu shifts her bow against her shoulder.

"If we want speed over everything, we should not bring a healer. If we bring a healer, we do not punish them for being one." Duan Xueheng nods.

"Untreated injuries slow a team more than a cautious healer does. Most groups will learn that after they are already limping." Shen Yuanzhou considers that.

"So the healer makes us faster by making us less stupid."

"Something like that," Duan Xueheng says.

"I like that."

"You like anything that sounds like winning," Xie Lianqiu says.

"I do," Shen Yuanzhou agrees, cheerful and entirely unashamed.

"It is one of my better qualities." Liu Yinhua looks down before they can see too much of her face. Xu Qinghe's question has an answer.

"I will speak with Xu Qinghe again," Liu Yinhua says.

"Good," Chi Yanluo says.

"Now we see what we are planning around." Unfortunately, what they are planning around is her. The next hour makes that clear with great enthusiasm. They do not train like Elder Huan's class. Elder Huan breaks everyone down the same way and watches what survives. The Crimson Wastes disciples train as if every exercise is a problem with teeth. Stand here. Move there. What happens if Shen Yuanzhou draws the opponent too far left? What happens if Duan Xueheng's line breaks?

What happens if Chi Yanluo is occupied, Xie Lianqiu has no clear shot, and Liu Yinhua has to get herself out from under someone larger, faster, and less interested in whether she is ready? The answer, many times, is that Liu Yinhua gets hit. She gets hit in the shoulder by Shen Yuanzhou's padded spear, which he promises was not as hard as it could have been and Xie Lianqiu says is not the reassurance he thinks it is.

She gets swept off balance by Duan Xueheng after stepping exactly where he had left space for her to step. Chi Yanluo strikes her guard once, not hard by his standards, and her whole right arm goes numb from wrist to elbow. Xie Lianqiu makes her draw and fire while winded until her fingers fumble the string and she says something under her breath that makes Shen Yuanzhou glance over with bright concern.

"Was that a curse?"

"No."

"Are you sure? It sounded very sincere."

"It was not for you."

"Oh. Good." Xie Lianqiu laughs, then tells her to nock another arrow. Liu Yinhua does. Again. Again. The dust finds every damp place on her skin. Her hair comes loose properly now, strands sticking to her cheek and neck. The bruise at her hip complains each time she pivots. Her shoulders burn from the bow. Her breath scrapes in her throat. Once, when Shen Yuanzhou flashes past her left side and taps the back of her knee with the spear, she hits the ground so hard her teeth click together.

For half a breath, she lies there staring at the sky. Blue. Pitiless. Very far away, until a shadow falls over her. Shen Yuanzhou peers down.

"Still alive?"

"No," Liu Yinhua says.

"Oh." He offers her a hand anyway.

"Then I will honour your memory."

"By pulling me up?"

"It is what you would have wanted." Liu Yinhua takes his hand because refusing would require more dignity than she currently possesses. He pulls her up smoothly, steadying her for only a breath before letting go.

"Your foot turned in," he says, more gently.

"I saw the knee go before I tapped it." Liu Yinhua brushes dirt from her sleeve.

"I know."

"Sorry." That is terribly sincere of him. Liu Yinhua does not know what to do with it, so she nods once and retrieves her bow. Her palms sting. Her elbow is scraped. Her body aches in a dozen places. And under all of that, something bright and impossible presses back. Her legs take weight when she demands it. Her lungs drag in air and keep dragging it in. The heat in her muscles does not frighten her. It feels like work. Like proof. Like a body not yet finished being made. Chi Yanluo watches her stand.

He says nothing about it, which Liu Yinhua appreciates more than praise. They move on to arts. That is less painful, and more embarrassing. Dance of Falling Blossoms looks better than it works when pressed too hard. Against a single predictable strike, Liu Yinhua can slip aside beautifully. Against Shen Yuanzhou changing direction halfway through with a smile still on his face, she can slip aside beautifully into the exact place he wanted her to go.

"Again," Duan Xueheng says.

"I am beginning to hate that word." Golden Speck Lure fares better. Chi Yanluo ignores it almost entirely the first time, not because he does not see it but because he refuses to look where it wants him to. Duan Xueheng looks once and then says, "Good for beasts. Worse against disciplined opponents unless layered with movement." Shen Yuanzhou follows it too eagerly and then winces when Xie Lianqiu says that proves the art works on beasts.

"I was helping demonstrate," he says.

"You were helping beautifully," Xie Lianqiu says.

"I hear the insult, but I also hear beautifully."

"Hold onto that."

"The lure is unpleasant," Shen Yuanzhou says, more seriously, turning back to Liu Yinhua.

"Not strong, but it pulls at the eye. If something is already angry, or hungry, or moving fast, I think it would be hard not to follow." Duan Xueheng nods.

"That is the important part."

"Thank you," Liu Yinhua says. He smiles at her as if thanked for something much larger.

"Of course." Burning Shadow makes them thoughtful. It should not. It is tiny. Liu Yinhua explains this before she demonstrates, because a warning feels necessary when one's strongest offensive art is mostly a rice-grain burn and a great deal of hope.

"It is not a flame," she says, standing before the practice target with an arrow nocked.

"Sun qi seems quite offended if I attempt to treat it like one." Shen Yuanzhou tilts his head.

"That sounds prettier than it looks like it feels."

"It burns very small holes."

"That seems less useful."

"Not necessarily," Duan Xueheng says. Liu Yinhua glances at him, but he just gestures toward the target.

"Show us." So she does. The first attempt dies in the arrow shaft with a faint hiss and the smell of singed feathering. Xie Lianqiu winces.

"The stores are going to start charging you extra."

"They already should," Liu Yinhua says. The second attempt flies cleanly but lands as an ordinary arrow. The third works. For most of its path, the arrow is only wood, feather, and iron. Then, just before it strikes, a small gold-white flash gathers at the head and vanishes into the target. The arrow sinks in with a dry thunk. A black mark appears around the puncture, thin and smoking. No one speaks for a breath. Then Shen Yuanzhou says, "It is small." Xie Lianqiu turns on him.

He lifts both hands in surrender immediately, and Liu Yinhua finds herself biting back a laugh.

"That is —" Xie Lianqiu stops, then looks annoyed that she cannot argue with him properly.

"Fine."

"I did say it was small," Liu Yinhua says.

"Yes," Shen Yuanzhou says.

"But small things get missed. That seems useful for you." It is earnest enough that it disarms her. Chi Yanluo crosses to the target and leans close. He does not touch the mark.

"How deep?"

"Not very."

"How painful?"

"I do not know. I have not shot myself."

"Good," Shen Yuanzhou says at once, as if this was a genuine concern he had just developed.

"Please continue not doing that." Duan Xueheng picks up a thin practice knife from the weapons rack and points to the inside of his own wrist, then the bend of his elbow, then just below the ribs.

"A small burn in the wrong place can break grip, breath, or circulation of qi. If you can place it."

"That is a large if," Liu Yinhua says.

"Yes," Duan Xueheng says.

"That is what training is for." She looks at the black mark again.

"I can make it more reliable," she says, almost to herself. Xie Lianqiu smiles.

"Yes, you can." It is not empty encouragement. Xie Lianqiu says it with the brisk certainty of someone who intends to make it true through repetition. Liu Yinhua is learning to fear that tone. By the time the session begins to wind down, her arms feel like wet rope, her knees are dusty, and there is a smear of dirt along one cheek that Xie Lianqiu keeps looking at with increasing distress.

"Stop staring," Liu Yinhua says.

"I am not staring."

"You are."

"There is dirt on your face."

"There is dirt everywhere."

"Not like that."

"I was unaware dirt had standards."

"It does when it is on your face."

"You pushed me into the dirt."

"Yes, and I regret the presentation." Liu Yinhua is too tired to laugh properly, so the sound comes out softer than intended. Xie Lianqiu's expression flickers, pleased and careful all at once. Chi Yanluo saves Liu Yinhua from having to know what to do with that by calling them back to the markers. They crouch or sit around the rough formation map. Liu Yinhua lowers herself more slowly than she would like. No one comments.

Shen Yuanzhou drops down beside her with a graceless thump, then sits forward immediately, elbows on his knees, attention on the markers. Duan Xueheng remains standing for another moment, checking the yard, the angles, the distance to the gate, before he lowers himself into a neat crouch. Xie Lianqiu folds herself down with her bow across her lap. Chi Yanluo points to the markers.

"Six-person formation," he says.

"Front anchor, rear rotation, healer protected middle. We assume uneven ground, trees, and low visibility in sections. We assume at least one team tries to steal tokens rather than earn them."

"Several," Duan Xueheng says.

"Several," Chi Yanluo agrees. Shen Yuanzhou looks interested rather than delighted.

"Are we allowing for stealing tokens if the chance comes?"

"Yes," Chi Yanluo says.

"If tactically necessary." Shen Yuanzhou nods, already looking down at the markers.

"Then we need a signal for when taking one is worth breaking line."

"Good," Duan Xueheng says. Shen Yuanzhou pauses.

"That one was actually good?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Excellent." Xie Lianqiu pats his shoulder.

"Very proud."

"I accept this praise." Liu Yinhua listens as they work. The rhythm is different from what she expected. Shen Yuanzhou throws out ideas quickly, bright and open, sometimes too eager, sometimes surprisingly sharp. Xie Lianqiu thinks in lines of sight and angles, in where Liu Yinhua can stand without blocking a shot, in where Xu Qinghe might kneel if someone has to be bandaged quickly. Duan Xueheng thinks in terrain, timing, and what happens when the plan fails.

Chi Yanluo listens, cuts away what will not hold, keeps the useful parts, and does not seem offended that the plan has to change each time someone notices a new way it might break. They are speaking as if she has to be accounted for. Her arts. Her speed. Her weakness under direct pressure. Her ability to distract. Her improving archery. Her small, ugly sun-burn of an arrow. The fact that she cannot take a heavy hit, but can make someone look the wrong way at the right moment.

The fact that if Xu Qinghe joins, Liu Yinhua may be the one best suited to draw attention away from them before a strike lands. Her body aches. Her dantian sits warm and heavy below her ribs. Somewhere under the bruises, that green pressure in her flesh presses again against its own edge, stubborn as a shoot finding stone. Wood Middle soon. Perhaps more than that. Liu Yinhua wipes dust from her cheek with the back of her hand, and Xie Lianqiu makes a wounded sound.

"What?" Liu Yinhua asks.

"You made it worse," she pouts.

"It is dust."

"It is now worse dust." Shen Yuanzhou leans over, inspects her face, and says very seriously, "I think it shows effort."

"That is not helping," Xie Lianqiu says.

"I meant it."

"I know. That is why it is not helping." Chi Yanluo closes his eyes for a moment. Duan Xueheng taps the marker nearest the rear line.

"Rear guard rotation."

"Yes," Chi Yanluo says, opening his eyes again.

"Rear guard rotation." Liu Yinhua lowers her hand, dirtier than before, and listens. Trial first, she reminds herself. After can remain after.