Heaven's Golden Finger

Light in a Northern Tent

Memory of eyes left behind
Candles burn through the night
Brush strokes pause at a ghost of a scent
Drifting upon the bitter wind

Moonlight reflects on the frost
Tent flaps dance in the breeze
Pale face shines, long sleeves float
Back in a distant night

Ah, too long ago
Ah, never to be forgotten
Yearning for arms entwined
Yearning for warmth
Will they meet again?

Snow falls on the mountainside
Freezes all below
Flute plays soft in the distant clouds
A swiftly fading song

Shirong finished singing, knowing he'd failed to do the song justice. He could manage beautiful high notes, but never the rich elegance the original singer had possessed. Jing Lei had been classically trained in Beijing Opera and his voice could soar like a Metropolitan House's soprano or a Beijing Opera's female lead.

Opening his eyes, not even realizing he'd closed them, Shirong looked down at his Shixiong nervously. He didn't know anything about music in this world. Like Shun Shixiong, his life here had been spent in the seclusion of Leifeng Sect. The music of that other, future, life might not fit here.

To his shock, there was a soft look in Shun Shixiong's eyes. "You... you liked it?"

"It's quite lovely. I think, possibly, you're straining on some of the notes, though?"

"Oh, I was. I can hit them, but not the way Jing Lei could." A moment of panic struck. "Can you?" What if the song were too hard for his Shixiong. He'd blithely assumed Shun could do it because he was certain Shun could do practically anything he set his mind to.

A slight smile. "I think I can. I'll have to practice. But, tell me, is there a story to that song? There's something familiar about it."

"It's about a wandering swordsman exiled from his lover." Shirong remembered how the internet had exploded with theories and fan-videos. "The writer refused to say why or whether they ever meet again." There'd been those who thought it a ghost story where the lover's spirit came to say goodbye. Others thought it was the lover who was the ghost, or that he was dying.

"I see." Shun Shixiong's voice had a reflective note but whatever he was thinking remained unsaid. "Well, I think I can sing it. Let's start with the melody. It sounds complicated and I have to get it right."

Without hesitation, Shirong began singing again.

#

It took hours for Shun Shixiong practice. Hours he insisted Shirong use for his own cultivation. "There's more qi in our spiritual space than you'll find out in the open. No sense wasting the chance to improve yourself."

Shirong couldn't argue with the logic. He'd been far too lazy before he'd experienced that future life. His adopted father pampered him, making him feel special and wanted and important. He'd been none of those things and earned very little of the chances life kept dropping in his lap.

So while Shun Shixiong practiced the song, growing more and more certain of himself with every repetition, Shirong meditated. At first he sat nearby, so he could correct his Shixiong's mistakes. But as those mistakes ceased and all Shun Shixiong had to do was strengthen his voice and practice control, Shirong moved to their lake.

The water was warm and comfortable and the koi tolerant of his presence. They nosed him a few times at first, as if hoping he had food, then wandered off when they realized he didn't. Shirong took a moment to wonder just how they'd gotten into this place and decided it might hurt his head trying to understand.

Instead he focused the qi in this place through his body. It felt like a stream of warm water flowing through him, reminding him of his other life's school days and learning the cycle of water and plants. The water was Shun Shixiong's contribution to their spiritual space, softening the earth, feeding the tree and rising into the heavens. He'd no doubt it could rain here, but that'd require him to develop his own Movement. He was nowhere near ready, despite having two Attributes.