Chapter 13: Enlightenment of Sword Intentions in the Cold Pond
After the Silver Needle Talisman's punishment, the impetuous atmosphere in the academy was largely dissipated. The disciples no longer dared to neglect the basics, and they applied extreme care to every stroke of the talisman. Even Lan Jingyi put aside his impulsive nature and followed Si Zhui in copying the talisman pattern repeatedly. Occasionally, when he made a mistake, he would slap his forehead in frustration.
That morning, Lan Wangji took Sizhui to the Cold Pond to practice swordplay. The pond was thick with steam, and the bluestones on the shore were covered with a thin layer of frost. When the sword blades passed through the water, the splashes would instantly freeze into fine ice, and then dissolve into mist when the spiritual energy passed through them.
"Practice the 'New Moon' posture I taught you yesterday again." Lan Wangji stood by the pond, his voice as clear as the water.
Si Zhui responded by drawing his sword, his focused expression reflected on the blade. He touched the water with his toes, his figure gliding across the surface like a flowing cloud. His sword moves shone with a faint blue light, but he paused slightly at the final moment, losing half of his spiritual power.
"No." Lan Wangji raised his hand and tapped his wrist lightly with his fingertips. "You need to stop like a horse pulling itself back from a cliff. Your spiritual energy must be gathered without leaking out. Only then can you show your murderous intent."
Si Zhui tried to regain his momentum, but he always missed the mark when retracting his sword. The cold air from the pond numbed his fingertips. By the third practice, sweat had formed on his forehead, and his sword moves were becoming increasingly chaotic.
"Stop." Lan Wangji called him, "You're getting distracted."
Si Zhui put away his sword and lowered his eyes: "Yes."
"Come here." Lan Wangji sat on the bluestone beside the pond and pointed at the water. "Look at this water."
Si Zhui looked as he was told. The surface of the cold pond was calm and even the fallen leaves only caused tiny ripples, and then it returned to silence in an instant.
"Water is soft, yet it can wear away stone because of its persistence; water is still, yet it can reflect objects because of its undivided attention." Lan Wangji's voice slowly rose. "Sword moves are like flowing water. A restless mind will disperse the moves, while a steady mind will focus them. You were punished the other day. Although you recognized the mistake of rushing for quick results, you didn't truly grasp the meaning of 'steadiness'."
Si Zhui looked at the pond and suddenly remembered what his father said when he was talking about talismans: "Spiritual power must be as fine and even as threading a needle." It turned out that the sword and the talisman had the same principle.
"Practice again." Lan Wangji stood up and drew his Bichen. "I'll accompany you."
When the sword light returned, two intertwined figures appeared on the cold pond. Lan Wangji's sword moves were as steady as a mountain, each one impeccably precise. Si Zhui followed behind him, his impetuousness gradually fading. His sword moves flowed in accordance with his will, his spiritual energy flowing steadily through his meridians. He finished with the final move, "New Moon." With a steady movement of his wrist, the water splashed by the sword blade condensed into a small icy moon in the air before slowly dissipating.
"Father..." Si Zhui put away his sword and stood up, his nose slightly red.
Lan Wangji nodded, a hint of approval in his eyes: "Some progress." He raised his hand and handed him a warm handkerchief. "Go back first. Wei Ying said he wants to make lotus root and pork rib soup today."
Si Zhui took the handkerchief and suddenly smiled - his father was always like this, even when praising someone, he would be stingy with extra words, but would reveal his concern in the details.
When he returned to the quiet room, Wei Wuxian was indeed busy in the kitchen. The pork rib soup in the casserole was bubbling, its aroma wafting through the window, mixed with a faint medicinal scent—he had made it specifically for Sizhui, claiming it would replenish his qi and blood.
"Are you back? Wash your hands quickly, you can drink soon." Wei Wuxian was wearing Lan's apron with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing his strong wrists. He was scooping up the soup with a spoon to taste it, and he stuck out his tongue because of the heat, looking a little funny.
Lan Wangji walked over and took the spoon from him naturally, blowing on it to cool it down before handing it back. Wei Wuxian chuckled and leaned over to kiss him stealthily. Sizhui saw him and blushed as he turned back to set the table.
At the dinner table, Wei Wuxian filled a bowl of soup for Si Zhui: "Drink more, the water in the cold pond is too cold, it will replenish your body." He also picked up a piece of pork ribs and gave it to Lan Wangji, "Lan Zhan, you should eat more too, you must be tired after practicing with him this morning."
Lan Wangji said nothing, but picked the meat off the ribs and put it into Sizhui's bowl.
Sizhui lowered his head to sip his soup, listening to his father ramble on about what he was going to learn in class today. Seeing his father occasionally respond, he suddenly felt a deep sense of peace. He thought of the cold pond's water, of his father's words. It turns out that the so-called "stability" isn't just the key to sword moves and spells, but also the normality of life—much like the everyday atmosphere in this quiet room, plain yet reassuringly stable.
In the afternoon, Sizhui went to the library to sort through the files. He happened to meet Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi there. Lan Jingyi was scowling over a copy of "The Essence of Sword Dao." Seeing Sizhui, he was like seeing a savior: "Sizhui, how do I practice this move 'Jinghong'? I can't seem to raise my spiritual power."
Jin Ling also came over: "I saw you used it when practicing sword yesterday, can you..."
Si Zhui picked up the scroll and pointed to the annotation on the diagram: "The key to this move is not to increase the spiritual power, but to change the momentum when breathing. Look here..." He explained patiently, occasionally picking up the wooden sword next to him and making a few gestures. Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling listened carefully, nodding and asking questions from time to time.
Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows of the library, falling on the three of them and stretching the shadows of the wooden swords. Occasionally, a breeze blew, rustling the pages like a gentle song.
Si Zhui suddenly understood that growing up was never a solitary journey. His father's strictness, his father's guidance, and the companionship of his friends, like the water of a cold pond, the fire of a quiet room, and the light of a library, seemed ordinary, but they nurtured him bit by bit, allowing him to slowly grow into the person he wanted to be during his years in the Cloud Recesses.
And days like this continue.
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