As the only great city for a hundred li around, Fenglin City had no cheap houses.
Ling He's gift was a cup of water on a burning cart, and Jiang Wang had no savings to speak of. Fortunately, one man in his life had never wanted for money.
Carrying Jiang An'an, he went straight to Zhao Rucheng.
"Give me some silver," Jiang Wang said, without preamble.
Zhao Rucheng was mid-staring-contest with Jiang An'an. "How much?" he said absently.
"What does a small courtyard near the Dao Academy cost? For my sister and me."
"Why buy one at all? Live here with me. I've rooms standing empty everywhere." Zhao Rucheng winked his left eye at An'an, then his right, flashing a smile he clearly believed dashing. To be fair, he genuinely was handsome.
Jiang Wang glanced at his sister. "We need a home of our own."
Where he slept made no difference to him. But An'an had only just been handed over; however bravely she carried herself, she was fragile inside.
"Oh." Zhao Rucheng rubbed his chin. "I think my family holds a few places near the Academy. Let me ask."
He turned his head and called, "Uncle Deng!"
Before long a middle-aged man of mild bearing came in and bowed meticulously. "Young Master."
"Have we a suitable house near the Dao Academy? Clear one out and give the deed and land title to my Third Brother."
The steward replied, "No need to clear anything. Three stand empty. Which would you like?"
Zhao Rucheng looked over. "Third Brother?"
Jiang Wang smiled gently at the steward. "Sorry to trouble you, Uncle Deng. It needn't be large — only An'an and myself. What matters is that it be near the Academy, so I can come home to her whenever I please."
The steward returned the smile. "In Flying Horse Lane, behind the Academy, there is a small single-courtyard house. I cannot say whether it will suit you."
"Let's go and look!" said Zhao Rucheng. "Just give me the key."
Jiang An'an did not care for talking and paid people little mind. But that small face, sculpted from powder and jade, was made by nature to be adored.
The whole way there, Zhao Rucheng would not stop teasing her.
"An'an, who's more handsome, Brother Rucheng or your Brother Wang? Ai, forget it — an unfair question. There's no comparison."
"An'an, An'an, do you see those candied hawthorns? Come into my arms and we'll buy the whole bundle!"
"An'an, ah, do you know how heavy you are? Look how plump! Your brother's arms are about to snap clean off. Won't you let Brother Rucheng carry you?"
Little An'an had met his thousand words with silence. Only at that last did she tilt her head at Jiang Wang.
"Are you tired?" she asked, very softly.
Jiang Wang smiled warmly. "Not the least bit. I could carry you until next year and never let go."
The courtyard in Flying Horse Lane was quite good: a main room, a south room, two wing rooms east and west. Nobody lived there, but everything needful was in place — a few household goods and one could move in that day. The rooms were plain, comfortable, restful.
Jiang Wang led An'an through every room, watching for any sign of refusal.
"Good. This will do." He turned a brilliant smile on Zhao Rucheng, still circling An'an and chattering. "Give me the key. You may go home."
"Right away!" Zhao Rucheng, admirably self-aware, turned on his heel — then paused at the gate to wave. "Your Brother Rucheng is going. Don't miss me too much~"
Little An'an came pattering after him and, into the full brilliance of that smile, shoved the courtyard gate shut with all her strength.
Night came, and Fenglin City, clamorous all day, fell quiet.
Within the Tongtian Palace the little earthworm completed its final surging leap and spat a round, whole Dao essence into the Star-Dou Formation.
Jiang Wang opened his eyes, ending the day's meridian-rushing. Essence upon essence, night after night, a merit built of drops — none of it wasted. In time they would become his foundation formation and open the way to the transcendent.
Only such tedious nights made possible the splendor of roaming the azure heavens.
The room was very still. Jiang An'an lay in her small bed, hands placed obediently outside the quilt, not moving at all.
Because she was so young, Jiang Wang had a small bed made to order so she could sleep in his room — one large, one small, facing each other across the floor.
Listening to her breathing, he said gently, "An'an. Not asleep yet?"
A small voice answered at once, with panic in it. "I'm... I'm asleep."
Her nervousness put an ache through his chest. So small a child, and already she read faces. All because he had told her, before sitting down to cultivate, to sleep early — and now, awake, she was frightened.
A girl not yet five, brought suddenly to a strange place, taken from her mother. That she had not wailed already made her brave beyond her years. What terror must fill that small chest?
But such matters were not to be raised again.
"Mm. Your brother can't sleep either," he said, softer still. "Would you like to look at the stars?"
After a while came an "Mm," thin as a mosquito's hum.
"Then get up." He rose, lit the oil lamp, and went to help An'an into her outer clothes.
Those hands, so nimble with a sword, proved clumsy at tending a child.
"That's not how it goes on, brother, you've put it on backwards..."
Jiang Wang withdrew his hands, abashed. "Then An'an will dress herself."
The two of them fussed about a while before they got out the door.
The bright moon hung high, the stars scattered points of light. Clean moonlight filled the empty courtyard, so that this night, which should have been lonely, turned soft and warm.
"Are we looking at the stars here in the yard?" An'an asked, tipping her head back.
"Of course not." Jiang Wang scooped her up, pushed off the ground, and leapt onto the roof.
Jiang An'an shrieked, and when they landed on the tiles her small face was scarlet.
He looked down at her, a little guilty. "Did I frighten you, An'an?"
She blinked her great eyes, and something almost like excitement stirred in them. "Brother, you can fly?"
She looked eager to try it herself, but Jiang Wang had no wish to go bounding across rooftops like an ape. "Not yet. When my Dao arts are accomplished, certainly I will. And then, wherever An'an wants to go, we'll fly. How's that?"
"All right."
He spread his outer robe over the tiles and lay down beside it, one hand pillowed behind his head. "Come. Lie like your brother, and look at the stars."
Little An'an lay obediently on the robe, hands folded behind her head, and gazed up into the night with those round black eyes wide.
Across the vast curtain of sky the stars lay thick, contending to shine. Out of endless darkness were born innumerable lights; the river of heaven ran on, holding countless dreams.
"That one is the Ziwei Star. That one is called Yuheng... The Southern Dipper is over there, look, just there..."
"They're twinkling. Like they're blinking their eyes."
"Only an An'an as adorable as ours looks like a star when she blinks. Your Brother Yehu — that big bearded fellow from today — when he blinks he just looks like an ox-bell."
Jiang An'an broke into giggles.
"Do you know, An'an, that all these stars are hundreds of millions of li away..."
"How far is a hundred million li? Farther than from Fengxi Town to here?"
"Far, far farther. Countless times. If there were a road to the stars, an ordinary person could walk it from birth to death and count as having only just set out."
"Ah?" An'an was shocked. "That far?"
"That far. In that endless dark they cross all that distance to bring their light to your eyes — offering you a beauty that may have gone out ten thousand years ago."
"They're very good."
"Father is a star like that. He left us long ago, but he is still out there far away, working hard to give off his light, keeping us company with it. So never be afraid. Your brother will always be with you. And so will the stars."
"Brother." Jiang An'an's voice was very small. "My mother doesn't want me anymore, does she?"
Jiang Wang fell silent.
Was he to tell her the plain truth — that she was an encumbrance in her mother's way?
Was he to denounce Aunt Song's selfishness, and have this little girl hate the woman who bore her?
How should he answer?
He had no time to weigh it long, because silence, too, is a kind of wound.
In the end he turned onto his side and took her small hand in his, earnestly, gently.
"An'an is so lovely — how could anyone not want you? It's your brother who wanted very much to live with you. That's why I made your aunt bring you here. When she left she wept bitterly. She couldn't bear to part with you either."
"Really?"
Starlight and moonlight lay on Jiang An'an's small face, stroking the tear-tracks not yet faded; she was beautiful as a sprite born of star and moon.
The bewildered fear had not entirely left her face. But those great eyes, all at once, had lit up.