# Chapter 94: Cloud-Letter Trifles
What had happened on Jade Scales Peak, Jiang Wang could tell no one.
The more agonizing the choice clawing at his heart, the more impossible it seemed to give voice to before those closest to him. Yet once he set the question down in writing, he felt a good deal lighter. Not that his inner conflict was resolved — only that there are some burdens which, once confessed, grow a little easier to bear.
Jiang Wang put down the brush, and the envelope folded shut of its own accord. Then it turned into a small cloud crane, circled the courtyard three times, and shot straight up into the empty sky.
This secret art, Jiang Wang truly could not help envying. Had he mastered it, he would have been able to reach Du Yehu at any moment. He wondered how that tiger was faring in the Jiujiang Profound Armor. Correspondence was difficult within the army, and since the man had gone, there had been no word of him at all.
...
"Hold the sword steady, set your feet straight."
In the courtyard, Jiang Wang was teaching Tang Dun and Jiang An'an to practice their sword forms.
Two figures, one tall and one small, held a large sword and a small sword, standing in proper, disciplined posture.
Of course, to spare herself harm, Jiang An'an's blade was a wooden one.
"The sword walks a devious path, yet its intent must be all the straighter for it. Learn first the honorable orthodox strokes, and only then can you master the hundred variations."
Everything Jiang Wang said had been distilled from his own experience. In swordsmanship, at least, his skill was utterly transcendent. Instructing these mortal sword arts came as naturally to him as pouring water from a high vantage point.
"The sword has two edges — it can wound another, and it can wound its wielder as well. So first you conquer yourself, then you conquer your enemy. The first 'conquer' is to rein in; the second is to break through."
Even as he taught, Jiang Wang was also taking stock of himself — honing his sword heart, smoothing his Dao heart.
There was a saying that one's writing reveals one's character. Not that strokes could convey a person's beauty or ugliness, goodness or malice, but that from the way one wrote could be seen whether one possessed composure, whether one's heart was truly settled, and what structure one held within. The same held true of the sword.
Little An'an had no small talent. The basic sword forms, she now executed with real shape and skill.
It was Tang Dun, though, who proved the pleasant surprise. The man's fundamentals were solid; he had merely gone unguided in his early years, straying down some crooked paths and developing poor habits in certain movements. Yet once Jiang Wang corrected him, his skill immediately revealed itself as anything but ordinary.
Half an hour later, Jiang Wang announced a rest.
An'an was still young, and a sapling must not be yanked upward prematurely. But the little girl was stubborn to a fault — as long as Tang Dun did not stop, neither would she. So Jiang Wang had to arrange the rest for both alike; though Tang Dun, of course, would be sure to add extra drills when he went home.
Despite the wintry chill, fine beads of sweat stood on An'an's brow.
Jiang Wang had long since boiled hot water and prepared a bath barrel. He took out fresh clothes and had An'an carry them off to bathe in her own room.
Tang Dun stepped straight into the kitchen.
The training he had just finished was nothing to him; it was the extra regimen Jiang Wang had devised that truly wore a man down.
As a lifelong bachelor well past his youth, cooking was an essential skill. His technique, to be sure, was no great art — a cut above the run-of-the-mill flyspeck eateries, though his soups were done rather well.
He had been in Fenglin City for some time now. These days he oversaw the meals for the Jiang siblings, and whenever they did not go out to eat, the cooking fell to him.
Jiang Wang loitered about for a while, then strolled into the kitchen and gave the place a look-over, as if conducting an inspection.
Then he said to Tang Dun, who was chopping meat, "Let me show you a thing or two today. Let's give An'an a surprise."
"Mr. Jiang..." Tang Dun's face took on a look of difficulty.
The last time Jiang Wang had offered a "surprise," he had managed to make Jiang An'an cry through her meal. Honest as he was, Tang Dun dared not offend the master, yet could not bear to see An'an wronged. He was caught between the two.
"What's the matter?" Jiang Wang was rather displeased. "See here — your knife work wouldn't even pass muster."
He had a look around, lifted the two-jin osmanthus fish Tang Dun had bought, took up an empty porcelain plate with one hand and a cleaver with the other, and slashed through the air in a few swift strokes.
Blade-light flickered. Slices of fish drifted down like petals. From head to tail, every slice was near identical in thickness, with hardly a hair's breadth of deviation. Genuinely fine knife work.
Jiang Wang sheathed the blade and cast a rather self-satisfied glance at Tang Dun.
Tang Dun, after all, was an honest man: "This osmanthus fish... I was going to steam it whole..."
"Ahem." Jiang Wang said, "Sliced, it takes on flavor more easily."
Tang Dun eyed the platter of fish slices and said, with some difficulty, "You've also cut the gall bladder open. Once the gall is broken, the fish is ruined — it turns bitter and inedible."
"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Jiang Wang was a little annoyed.
Tang Dun fell silent, tongue-tied.
"I'll go see if An'an has finished her bath."
There was truly little pleasure in bullying an honest man. Jiang Wang patted his rear and walked off.
...
At dinner, Jiang An'an, neatly dressed, sat by the table.
Jiang Wang and Tang Dun had both taken their seats, yet An'an kept turning her head to peer toward the kitchen.
"What are you looking at?" Jiang Wang tapped the rim of his bowl with his chopsticks.
"Is there another fish?" Jiang An'an asked.
Towards food, she held an abnormal tenacity.
Tang Dun was about to speak, when Jiang Wang headed him off: "The fish ran away."
Jiang An'an was astonished. "How did a fish run away?"
"Go ask the fish."
"But didn't the fish already run away?"
"Right, the fish ran away." Jiang Wang reached out and turned An'an's little face back toward him. "Eat."
Jiang An'an was stunned for a long while, her little head in a jumble.
...
After dinner, Tang Dun cleared away the dishes, while Jiang Wang led An'an to the study for her lessons.
Because the daytime had been given over to martial training, the evening study had to be made up.
Cultivation was a long road. More often than not, the cultivator struggled not against others, but against himself — against the solitude of that long, long journey. Without a sufficiently sturdy heart, no man could sustain so distant a march. And broad learning was what could fill that heart out.
Little An'an, in fact, studied very well. Now that she no longer had to take examinations in others' stead to earn money, she ranked at the top of every test.
It was then that Ye Qingyu's reply came winging in.
An'an's eyes went wide as she watched the little cloud crane circle the window a few times before settling on Jiang Wang's hand.
"What a pretty little bird!"
"This sort of bird is called a cloud crane." Even as he explained, Jiang Wang unfolded the letter the crane had become —
*A reply to Daoist Jiang's question.*
*If you already know a thing is wrong, how can there be any right in it?*
The signature was still *Drifting Green Rain Among the Clouds*.
Jiang Wang felt as though a sudden clearing descended upon him.
It is said that those inside a game are blind to it, while those watching from without see clearly. Sometimes a matter of the utmost simplicity, once a person is entangled within it, cannot be escaped no matter how they struggle. Another onlooker need only tap lightly at the point, and comprehension floods in like a dousing of ghee.
All conflict in his heart dissolved.
His tone loosened by a degree, he took the opportunity to instruct Jiang An'an. "You see this little cloud crane? When it became a letter, and once your brother has finished his reply, it will become a little cloud crane again and fly away. Such is the wonder of the Dao arts. You must apply yourself to your cultivation."
The little cloud crane was so adorable it pierced An'an's heart. She nodded vigorously.
Jiang Wang took up the cloud brush and wrote in answer:
*Words of true counsel! They have cleared my mind. My friend is worthy to be my teacher for a single sentence.*
Jiang Wang was about to set the brush down when An'an spoke up from beside him: "Brother, who are you writing to?"
"A sister."
"Write a line for me too, won't you? Send her my regards."
Jiang Wang cast her a sideways glance, knowing full well she had taken a fancy to the other's cloud crane.
Yet how could the secret arts of the Lingxiao Pavilion be so lightly passed on?
Jiang Wang did not expose her, but wrote on:
*Also, my young sister has seen your letter and asked me to convey her greetings. Wishing you peace.*
An'an nudged him again. "She has a signature, after all."
Jiang Wang gave it a thought, then added a signature of his own: *Little Jiang Beneath the Maple.*
The cloud note folded up, and turned once more into a small crane.
Jiang An'an seized it and played with it at length before, with a moment's carelessness, letting it go. The little cloud crane threaded out through the window, and its lovely form vanished into the night sky.
On this night, it would surely also slip into An'an's dreams.