Cultivation and Consumption

Chún's mouth open and closed like a fish's as he watched Yijing move over to a fallen log some distance away, under the shade of the trees rather than back to the boulder as he originally thought. That made sense, since the warmest part of the day was fast approaching and the boulder was too hot in the direct sunlight. If it hadn't been for the strange energy of the old man's drink, he felt that he would have fainted like one of those legendary imperial court beauties the village storyteller was always going on about. As it was, he definitely felt light headed.

That made him realise he'd been distracted from his duties and ingrained routine took over as Chún's thoughts swirled around like a whirlpool. Taking a deep breath of the still cool wildflower scented mountain air, he shaded his eyes and checked the sun's position, then slowly moved over into the pasture to check that the geese were moving into the shade closer to the stream at the north end of the mountain meadow as the heat of the day increased.

Chivying a few geese who seemed intent on roosting in the middle of the field and prodding them towards the trees, Chún nodded in satisfaction as a number of geese walked into the water and started drifting about with busy honks as they prodded the stream-bed for juicy tidbits. These tasks Chún had done many times before, so Chún's thoughts could settle slowly into practical solidity as he worked.

Eventually all of the flock were out of direct sunlight and Chún trotted over to retrieve his herding staff, roughly wrapped buns and skin of watered wine that he had left behind when he had jumped off the boulder earlier, then joined Yijing on the log next to the water.

The old man seemed absorbed in watching the beams of sunlight falling through the leaves, dance over the shifting surface of the stream - chased by the occasional iridescent dragonfly that fish leapt up from the water to catch, splashing jewelled droplets through the air.

Chún was hesitant to interrupt Yijing's thoughts, so he busied himself with unwrapping his meagre fare. The smells of water and living greenery helped cover the stale scent of the buns and Chún took a moment to throw a silent curse at Fatty Nie the village baker that would only trade him yesterday's leftovers.

Normally, Chún wouldn't care about the buns, but having someone with him made him conscious of how little he had to share.

"Forgive me, Senior, I have little to offer for a guest", he said quietly; suddenly aware of his bare feet and the cast-off shirt and pants held at the waist by a grass rope he had twisted together himself.

"If you would share mine as well, I'd gladly share with you," answered Yijing. "Many times I have wished for as much of a feast as you hold in your hands," he added as he offered over some sticks of jerked meat and fruits in return. Seeing the look of trepidation on Chún's face he smiled, "It's ordinary food".

The two of them split the repast equally and ate slowly, watching the flock resting among the trees and paddling in the water. Chún's watered wine was ignored as they passed Yujie's gourd between them - Chún felt now that it was not nearly as shocking as the first drink - it was pleasantly refreshing and he felt comfortable all over - it even seemed to bring the buns back to freshness when Yujie sprinkled them with a sly wink.

"I have seen those mists and lights as far back as I can remember, Senior," said Chún quietly as the food was finished and they sat digesting and drinking the Water. "Never much, and usually here on the mountain more than anywhere else, but..."

Yijing stayed silent, a listening presence. Chún leaned back on his arms and closed his eyes, listening to the noises of the forest and mountain, feeling the warmth of a sunbeam on his face. The cry of some essence beast deeper into the mountain forest echoed, startling all the wild animals to silence and sending the flock into a flurry of warning honks.

"I had almost convinced myself I was imagining things", he eventually whispered bitterly. Shaking his head, Chún sat up and looked into the forest unseeing. "When I was younger - I asked the villagers what the mists and lights were - they either called me a sun-struck fool, ill or cursed. Even the Storyteller and the village Head only spoke of nonsense and childish imaginations."

Chún wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and spoke in a horse voice, "After that the villagers kept their distance - and only let me do the work no one else wanted. Lately, I've heard a few of them say that I ought to be finding another place to live." Heaving a big sigh, he looked at Yujang beside him with some confusion and said tentatively, "I even spoke to a man the villagers said was a wandering cultivator once - he laughed at me and said that fireside tales were not a good way to try and impress him into taking a disciple - he told me I had no ability to gather essence at all".

Yijing snorted and spat to one side, a sneer on his face and beard bristling with indignation, his voice harsh with anger. "Bah, cultivators are trash - they think they stride the Heavens and Earth but they all they do is consume. Cultivators, that's an insult to the Heavens - what do they know? Nothing but the collecting, consuming and hoarding of essence - ravenous gluttons - a plague of locusts."

Chún's mouth dropped open, his bitter recollections washed away in surprise. "But..."

Yijing laughed, his face overcome with mischievous smiles in an instant, "Yes, you are supposed to think I'm one of them - and if you weren't special - you'd have never known otherwise."

Chún shook his head in complete confusion. "Senior, I saw..."

Yijing rolled his eyes and poked Chún with his staff, "That's because you are NOT a Locust, Young Chún, as I am Not a Locust".

"But you move... and you're strong..." Yijing ignored Chún's babble and turned to fix a serious eye on him; "Young Chún, the sages say silence is a great treasure.''

Words stopping midstream, Chún bowed his head in embarrassment. Yijing ruffled his hair and asked slowly, "How often do you come up the mountain?"

"Most days, Senior...no, Honoured Yijing," stammered the boy, realising he'd been using a cultivator's honorific, but the bald old man shook his head gently. "Senior will suffice, for now, Young Chen. Now, do you always sing when you come up the mountain?"

"Not always, Senior, but mostly. It is a long walk and the air is much cleaner here, I feel happier away from the villagers".

"En. Some of that is because what you are doing with your song, my young friend. Oh, I am sure this place always had more essence than other places - mountains are like that, but your songs strengthened the essence here. It is raw and unfocused, but eventually, you would have turned this mountain into a low ranked treasure ground."

Chún blinked. "I... Senior, how could...", he broke off as a thought occurred, "You said I was not a Cultivator, but you are saying that I cultivated essence..."

"You are not listening boy", said the old man, cocking his head to one side and peering at him thoughtfully. "Those things from your song - like the Cry of the Stream - can you see any around here?"

Chún furrowed his brow and then looked around. "There Senior, in that hollow, beside the stream in that patch of sunlight - I see green, yellow and blue mists...some green motes, not many," Chún pointed hesitantly as Yijing raised his eyebrows and hopped off the log, gesturing Chún to follow as he moved towards the spot Chún indicated.

"Young friend, you are talented. It took me many years of honing my essence sense to perceive what you can sense naturally. Now," Yijing said as they reached the small fold in the ground, "stretch out your staff hand - put it into the mists as you see them, that's right," he said encouragingly as Chún stretched his hand out, "concentrate on what you sense, focus", Yijing gripped Chún's outstretched arm and suddenly Chún heard the sound of a large drum echoing. "That is me you sense, young one, now pay attention as I push my perception out into the essence".

Chún heard the drum beats slow and echo, then a counterpoint bell-like sound, like the chimes from Yijing 's staff. Slowly the drumbeats sped back up and then disappeared as Yijing released his arm, but the bells remained, sharper now without the drums. "Follow the essence young one. You can give it more energy or slow it, gather it or thin it".

"I heard your drums, Senior... this sounds like chimes - what do I do?"

Yijing stroked his beard, "Increase the beat, add notes, make it louder or softer... follow the song that's there, but give it more, show it more".

Chún thought about the bells swelling and the chimes sang like the big bells the cow-herders used, motes of verdant green springing like a fountain as the mists coalesced and pooled in the hollow with a joyful peal.

With a suddenness that stole his breath the essence - for surely it could be nothing else - flashed a brilliant opal green, and a wave of energy spread out like ripples from a stone dropped in a pond, splashing and rebounding off the trees, plants and other things around them. The energy crashed into his body, washing away his tiredness and clearing his head. His body hummed and he felt comfortable all over - even better than when drinking Yijing's water.

Chún stared in shock at the hollow. Before there had been just ordinary grass there. Now, half foot tall strands of a silver green grass swayed in the breeze, a much thicker opal mist swirling out from it. Glittering opal motes scattered in all directions and Chún heard crisp-clear chimes as the leaves shook.

"What... Senior?"

"En. Good. Good. Thousand year grass on your first attempt."

Chún gasped. Thousand year grass was a plant prized by Cultivators for its rich essence, but was difficult to find as very few grasses lasted long enough to develop the characteristics.

"I could sell this, Senior and never have to live in the village again!"

Yijing frowned. "A cultivator would think that way Rén Chún. Do you think this a wise use of your talent?"

Chún stopped and looked around. All around, he could see more mists and motes than he'd ever seen in one place before, rising from dips and rises, trees and plants around the Thousand year grass. And he felt...

Chún frowned. All the stories told of cultivators said they would be drained of essence after performing great feats - or that the essence around them was drained. But he felt stronger, and there was clearly more essence present than before...

"Senior, what are we?"