Chapter 7: Night of relentless strokes

the golden light of dusk crept across the sky as Xing Yue and Lan Mei stepped through the stone pathway toward their shared residence. the day's practice at the academy had left a heavy weight in Xing Yue's heart, and her hands still trembled from the intense calligraphy session.

Meng Yi's voice continued to echo in Xing Yue's mind - laced with mockery, wrapped in feigned kindness. "don't you know? elegance cannot be learned by those who lack grace in their bones."

Xing Yue swallowed the sting of those words, her gaze falling to the cracked pathway beneath her feet.

Lan Mei said softly, her tone filled with warmth. "Meng Yi thrives on unsetting others. don't give her the satisfaction."

Xing Yue attempted a smile, though it hardly reached her eyes. and whispered, "but, she is right. my strokes were clumsy, my balance is flawed. I... don't think I can ever match her."

Lan Mei abruptly stopped, turning to face Xing Yue. her delicate features hardened with resolve. she whispered, "and since when did you need to match her? your journey isn't about outshining her, it's about finding the strength within yourself. she may have grace, but she lacks kindness. that will reflect in her spirit one day."

Xing Yue exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping. she said, "...then can you teach me."

Lan Mei's expression softened. without hesitation, she nodded. "let's practice tonight. until your brush becomes an extension of your will."

the soft creak of the wooden door echoed as they entered their modest chamber. the scent of aged parchment and ink greeted them, a familiar comfort in the solitude of their home.

Lan Mei quickly unrolled a large scroll of rice paper, setting it on the table. she fetched the inkstone and brush, her movements fluid and purposeful.

"first, clear your heart," Lan Mei instructed. she continued, "let go of doubt. do not think of anything. do not think of impressing anyone. just let your heart speak through the brush."

Xing Yue inhaled slowly. sitting on her knees, she gripped the brush in her hand, but her fingers still trembled.

"steady your breathing," Lan Mei guided, placing her hands gently over Xing Yue's. she continued, "breathe in as you raise the brush, and breathe as you flow through the stroke."

Xing Yue closed her eyes briefly. inhaling deeply, she lifted the brush. with a deep exhale, she lowered it onto the parchment. the ink bled into the paper, but the stroke was uneven and hesitant.

"again," Lan Mei said without hesitation.

gritting her teeth, Xing Yue tried again. another flawed stroke. then another. and another. hours slipped by like fleeting whispers, but her hand remained unsteady.

Lan Mei didn't waver. every time Xing Yue faltered, she corrected her hand placement, whispered encouragement, and urged her to continue.

"the strokes is not simply a line," Lan Mei explained, her voice is calm. "it's a reflection of your inner self. if your heart is burdened with self-doubt, the ink will never flow gracefully. let go."

but how could she let go? every time she lowered the brush, Meng Yi's voice returned, tightening like chains around her heart. "the lord of moon will never look at someone like you."

frustration burned in Xing Yue's chest. "I can't do it!" she exclaimed, slamming the brush down. the ink splattered across the page like fractured emotions. "I'm not elegant. I never was."

Lan Mei smiled sadly. "Xing Yue, elegance isn't about perfection. it's about your spirit. your unyielding heart. your love for the moon. if you can pour that devotion into your strokes, you will surpass her. not because you have to - but because you want to."

tears welled in Xing Yue's eyes, but she hastily blinked them away. she picked up the brush once more. her grip was still unsteady, but her heart burned with resolve.

as the moon hung high in the sky, casting a gentle glow through the wooden lattice windows. midnight had crept upon them, but the determination in Xing Yue's eyes refused to wane. the parchment in front of her bore delicate but inconsistent strokes, each a testament to her struggle to grasp the art of the Dao.

Lan Mei, parched beside her, watched in silence. she had taught Xing Yue all evening, guiding her hand when it faltered, correcting her strokes when they trembled, and encouraging her when her self-doubt threatened to consume her.

Lan Mei dipping the brush into the ink. started to draw calligraphy and whispered, "it originates from the celestial realms. in ancient mythology, it is said that the gods themselves used this form of writing to weave order into the world. every stroke embodies a natural law-fire, water, air, life and death."

Xing Yue watched in awe as Lan Mei's brush danced across the parchment. her strokes were swift, graceful, and deliberate, as if guided by a higher force. symbols representing mountains, rivers, the rising sun, and the undying moon formed on the parchment. each character radiated faint energy.

Lan Mei noticed her friend's gaze and smiled softly. she whispered, "the calligraphy of Dao isn't about understanding the nature of balance. each stroke is a reflection of the heart. she handed the brush to Xing Yue.

"here, do it again," Lan Mei said firmly, placing another blank parchment in front of Xing Yue. and said, "look, your strokes still hesitate. let your heart guide your hand."

Xing Yue nodding her head resolutely. she dipped her brush into the ink and began anew. her hand quivered slightly, but she pressed on. with each stroke, she tried to pour her inner strength into the characters- an art that demanded both grace and conviction.

Lan Mei leaned in, scrutinizing her progress. "good.... but not yet perfect." she reached out and adjusting Xing Yue's wrist. she said, "the energy of the Dao isn't forced, it flows. like the moonlight filtering through the clouds. breathe, and let it happen."

finally, Xing Yue took another deep breath, allowing Lan Mei's words to resonate with in her. and whispering herself, "flow like moonlight... surrender like the river...." her grip on the brush softened, her heart steadying. as she dipped the tip into the celestial ink, she no longer pressed too hard nor hesitated. instead, her strokes are flowed with newfound grace - steady, unwavering, and fluid.

the parchment beneath her fingers began to transform. lines once rugged and forceful now mirrored the natural curves of the world-gentle yet commanding. the ink glided like water, uninterrupted and serene, as if the brush was no longer in her control but moved in harmony with her spirit.

Lan Mei standing behind her, held her breath as she watched the sudden shift in Xing Yue's strokes. "she found it..." Lan Mei thought, her heart swelling with pride.

the room fell into a profound silence, broken only by the gentle sound of the brush against paper. the once unbalanced strength in Xing Yue's writing had now transformed into something profound-a reflection of the Dao itself.

finally, after what felt like hours, Xing Yue lifted her brush. the last stroke fell into place, and she exhaled as if she had just emerged from a trance. she blinked at the finished scroll, her heart trembling slightly at the sight. the characters, though still rough around the edges, carried an undeniable force of clarity and grace.

"I think it has some grace in this.." Xing Yue whispered, her voice is barely audible.

Lan Mei smiled, stepping beside her. and said, "yes, you did.." she gently took the scroll, running her fingers over the strokes. and continued to whisper, "your hand is no longer wavered, and your heart did not resist. this... this is the calligraphy of Dao."

a deep warmth flooded Xing Yue's chest, a mixture of disbelief and pride. and she whispered, "it felt like... different this time. like the brush was simply moving on its own."

"that's how it should be," Lan Mei answered, setting the scroll down carefully. "you don't force the ink-you let it flow. now you understand what our master meant when master told us, the ink carries the heart, and the heart commands the world."

Xing Yue's eyes are glimmered with determination. and whispered, "I think I would not fail in this.."

Lan Mei caught the flicker of ambition in her eyes but said nothing. instead, she only chuckled softly. we'll practice again tomorrow. perhaps then, your brush will not only write words... but fate itself."

Xing Yue held her gaze on the scroll, the memory of her brushstroke still burning in her veins.

Lan Mei, who had been silently observing, let out a satisfied hum. "you have improved."

again, Xing Yue glanced at the scrolls scattered around them- some marred by rigid lines, others shaky and uneven. but the last one... it felt different. she could sense the Dao's rhythm within the strokes.

Lan Mei stifled a yawn, rubbing her tired eyes. and said, "I think that's enough for tonight."

Xing Yue hesitated. she wanted to practice more, to capture this fleeting clarity before it slipped away. but as she flexed her fingers, she realized how stiff they had become.

a cool breeze drifted through the open window, rustling the candle flames. the night had deepened into a hushed silence, the starry pavilion is twinkling like distant ink splatters on the heavens.

Lan Mei stretched, rolling her shoulders. and said, "you should rest. there is still training tomorrow."

reluctantly, Xing Yue nodded. "just a little longer..." she murmured, though her body betrayed her. as she reached to organize the scrolls, exhaustion finally caught up with her. her arms felt heavy, her vision hazy.

Lan Mei chuckled softly. and said, "come on, don't fall asleep on the table."

Xing Yue barely had the strength to reply. with a quiet sigh, she allowed herself to lean back against the cushions. Lan Mei pulled a thin blanket over her before settling beside her, her own eyes fluttering shut.

the scent of ink lingered in the air as both drifted into slumber, the night embracing them in peaceful stillness.

as the first hints of dawn painted the sky in shades of gold and pale blue. the rhythmic chirping of bird spirits replaced the stillness of night. a starry breeze filtered through the window, causing the parchment on the table to shift slightly.

Xing Yue's eyes flickered open. for a moment, she remained still, adjusting to the quiet warmth of morning.

beside her, Lan Mei stirred, blinking groggily. she pushed herself up, stretching. "morning already?" she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Xing Yue sat up slowly, her fingers brushing against the scrolls they had left unfinished. the ink had dried, and upon closer inspection, she realized something- her last strokes from the night before carried a balance she had struggled to achieve.

she traced the characters with her fingertips, a quiet smile forming.

Lan Mei peered over her shoulder and grinned. "see? you finally got it."

Xing Yue nodded her head, her determination rekindled. last night she had felt something beyond mere practice. she had touched upon the true essence of the Dao.

and with that, they stepped out of the room, Xing Yue's heart carrying the silent vow to push forward -- no matter how arduous the path ahead maybe...