Unintended Cultivator

Sen got the distinct impression over the next week or two that Fu Ruolan was actively avoiding him. Not that he necessarily minded that. It let him keep playing around with shadow qi and locking in his new understanding of the intrinsic matrix. He confirmed that all of the qi types he could access relied on the structure. He also learned that his approach to combining qi types was horrifyingly crude. Layering the different qi types provided an incredibly stable fusion. It also made doing things like crafting his shadow-metal spears feel almost effortless compared with how he used to do it. Knowing what he knew now, it wasn’t shocking that his approach of simply mashing the qi types together and binding them through brute force and willpower was so strenuous. He’d been working against the natural order of things, rather than with them.

Of course, just because something was easier didn’t make it automatic. He was quite certain that it was going to take time to make layering the qi types an instinctive action. He’d probably fall back on mashing things together for quite some time. He also hadn’t tested how this newfound insight did or did not impact techniques like Heavens’ Rebuke and Heavens’ Shadow. The former was too wildly destructive to the material world to test near anything he cared about. The latter was so dangerous to the mind and soul that he didn’t plan on using it within miles of another human being that he didn’t know, without doubt, was irredeemably evil. He damn sure wasn’t going to mess around with something that caused such instinctive revulsion in him near Liu Ai.

Fu Ruolan avoiding him also came with the side benefit that Sen could take more breaks than he should to go and play with Ai. She had been overjoyed to discover that the balls he made her now would last overnight. She’d been taking one to sleep with her every night. He’d had some doubts about how good of an idea that was, but he couldn’t actually think of a specific reason other than it had been on the ground. Its basic nature meant that nothing stuck to it, so it wasn’t as though she was dragging dirt to bed with her. She also seemed to have fewer bad dreams when she had the ball with her. Sen didn’t understand minds especially well, but he had a hard time seeing fewer violent nightmares as a bad thing. If the ball gave her comfort, he was willing to let the minor oddness of it pass without comment. Falling Leaf hadn’t batted an eye at it, but she probably wouldn’t have batted an eye if the little girl wanted to take a sword to bed with her at night.

However, as much as he was enjoying being more or less unwatched by his strange and occasionally unsettling teacher, he wondered about her absence. The woman seemed very restrained around Ai, and her interactions with Falling Leaf were primarily combat instruction. When she had to interact with Sen on something like a personal level, though, he often got the feeling that she was forcing herself to do it. Almost like the action taxed her mind on some basic level. He wondered if that was why she’d taken to lurking in the first place. She could keep an eye on him and his progress but avoid those conversations she didn’t like. Sen shook his head. He was just guessing and had no plans to ask her about it. If he was wrong, he’d look like a fool and run the risk of truly offending her. If he was right, then that conversation would just be a mental and emotional strain for Fu Ruolan. In short, there was no benefit to pressing the issue. She’d come back around when she did. In the meantime, he would do something that he’d been meaning to do for a while.

He sat down at the table where they all usually ate and pulled out the writing kit that Auntie Caihong had given him. It had gotten a lot less use than either he or she probably thought it would over the years. He finished with the inkstone and opened a clean scroll. He dipped the brush into the ink, gathered his thoughts for a moment, and started writing.

Auntie Caihong,

You’ll be pleased to know that I’m using the writing kit you gave me. I’m sure you’re aware by now that I found Fu Ruolan and accessed the manual I needed.

While Sen provided a brief overview of the events that had transpired since they last saw each other, Ai and Glimmer of Night came into the galehouse. She had convinced him to make webs for her to jump on, and they had been at that for hours. It seemed that she’d grown tired of the game, but was immediately intrigued by what Sen was doing. She rushed to the table and peeked over the edge at the scroll.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I’m writing to my auntie,” said Sen.

“You have an auntie?” she asked, momentarily shifting her eyes to him.

“I do, but she lives very far away. So, I’m writing this to tell her about what I’ve been doing. I’m writing about you right now.”

Ai looked at him with big, curious eyes, before she climbed up into his lap to get a better look at the scroll.

“Where?” she asked, leaning forward to stare at the scroll from mere inches away.

Sen carefully put down the brush and pointed to the characters for her name. “That right there is your name.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” said Sen, and pointed to another part of the scroll. “That’s how you write Glimmer of Night’s name.”

“Glimmerite!” she shouted, almost vibrating with excitement. “Come look! Come look! Come look!”

The spider, who had been hovering nearby, quickly closed the distance. His gaze locked onto the spot where Sen was pointing.

“That’s your name!” she said, pointing at where Sen was pointing before moving her finger. “That’s my name!”

“Would you like to learn how to write your name?” Sen asked.

The little girl’s eyes went huge. “Yes.”

“Well then, I’ll teach you.”

Sen carefully set aside the nearly complete letter he’d written to spare it from any accidents. He summoned another blank scroll from his ring and unrolled it.

“Okay, watch closely while I write your name,” said Sen.

She nodded and barely blinked as Sen picked up the brush and dipped it. He made a point to exaggerate the characters and make them much bigger than he would in a scroll. He figured that just getting the basic shapes down would be more than enough for this first, impromptu lesson. Sen dipped the brush again and then showed Ai how to hold it. The brush was really too big for her small hands. Sen made a mental note to ask around and see if everyone learned with the full-size brush or if they had smaller ones for children. He watched as she applied the brush to the scroll and the inevitable disaster of smeared ink occurred. Sen let her try a few more times but intervened before mild frustration escalated into angry frustration and turned her against the idea of writing altogether.

“Is it okay if I help a little?” asked Sen.

Ai looked up at him, her eyes filled with absolute trust, and nodded. It took Sen a moment to slow his racing heart. No one had ever looked at him that way before. He’d seen trust before, of course, but never that kind of blind certainty that someone was safe with him. It was a kind of trust that couldn’t be failed because it could never, ever be regained once lost. Sen didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew it to his bones. He reached out and had to take a moment to still his shaking hand. Only after he’d reclaimed control did he gently wrap his hand around Ai’s. He remembered the way that Uncle Kho had guided his hand when Sen was trying to learn how to read and write. He did his best to mimic that gentle teaching. It wasn’t any kind of automatic success, nor did he expect it to be. But Ai picked up fast on the big things, like not putting too much pressure on the brush.

It took a while, but she eventually managed to write something that could charitably be described as her name. Sen congratulated her for writing her name, but he praised her outrageously for not giving up. Sen had learned a lot about cultivation, but he’d learned a lot of hard lessons about life before that. Possibly the most important lesson he’d taken away from both things was that enough perseverance could carry you through most challenges. If she never learned anything else from him, that was something he wanted to give her. She smiled and covered her face in something that wasn’t quite embarrassment. She stayed in his lap and watched him finish writing his letter to Auntie Caihong.

“Do you want to put your name on it, too?” asked Sen.

She gave him a shy smile and nodded. Sen dipped the brush and handed it to her. He worked hard to keep a serious expression as her little face scrunched up into a look of fierce concentration. Her tongue was sticking out a little and caught between her teeth. She worked with agonizing slowness. When she was done, though, a shaky, wobbly version of her name was on the scroll. Sen gently took the brush and then gave the girl a hug. She laughed and giggled before hopping down to the floor. Sen looked over to Glimmer of Night. The spider had stood and watched silently.

“Were you paying attention?” Sen asked.

“I was.”

“Good. Because you get to try tomorrow.”

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