Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Meaning?
I watched the figures move, their little hands bustling between items. Their legs rotated back and forth, and their hips swayed. The little humans had moved on too quick. Did not of them think that with the Gentle Saint gone they lacked protection? This is the martial world, ruled by an iron fist. What life could they possibly cultivate with such weak strength?
But I watched the small son who held onto his father's hand as they walked down the dirt path. The daughter who sat on her father's shoulders as they plucked fruit from the tree. The young man who practised sword techniques on a sandbag dummy. The old man with loud stories told to the children on the street.
"I can't understand any of it," I shook my head again, "they should all give up." I stood at the top floor of my sect pavillion. One meant for the most distinguished elder, even above the sect leader. But what would it mean now? I had clothes made from the best material. Wine from the best winemakers, furniture from the best artists. And yet, what did I continue every day for?
"I'm sorry, Haoran. I have been struggling without you, aish!" I sucked in my teeth and put the alcohol down. "This is not fit for someone in my position. Let me go outside and catch a breeze of fresh air."
I moved through the halls of the sect. Various metals and gems littered the halls. Swords and weapons in every corner, with just as many disciples. Everyone bowed their head at me as I passed.
"Junior Disciple greets Grand Elder!"
"Senior Disciple greets Grand Elder!"
And many other leaders of the sect. All bowed, their upper bodies parallel to the ground.
I found myself strolling the streets, I watched the little items being sold by the seller—a toy on the table of another. Dried herbs used to ease the nerves, metal cauldrons sold to commoners who hoped to change their family life, and booklets with martial arts techniques sold to the hopeful young.
I found myself staring at a small child in ripped clothing. She held onto a straw doll with oddly coloured features. She stared at me too. Perhaps she was too small and young to move her eyes. And perhaps I was too tired to move mine.
"That doll is not fit for a child." But the child did not speak, the small eyes stared at me as my lips moved in rhythm.
The child moved their hand and pointed at their ear, I nodded my head in understanding. "The least I could do is offer you something to eat," I waved my hand, and the child followed. The crowd moved around me, and everyone bowed, even the goats and cows. But the child kept their head up, the little eyes followed me like a pair of mosquitoes in summer.
Soon enough, I sat down at a small wooden table and waved the waiter over.
He tripped over a chair but picked himself up rather quickly. "Forgive me! What may I get for the esteemed guests."
"Something simple," the waiter did not say more and ran to the kitchen as fast as he could.
"What to do with this life, child? You who do not have ears yet make me feel heard." Her little eyes stared at me with a slight smile. Whatever she thought, perhaps she was happy to have a friend too. One that did not live in the mind only.
She lifted her arms and gestured symbols. It was a bit crude, but I had understood, "My name... Drifting Moon," I gestured back with my hands, and she stared with her mouth wide open.
She quickly lifted her hands again. That's not a name!
"Haha! My name has little use, it is more of a title," I gestured with my hands.
She quickly shook her head and puffed her cheeks out. That still doesn't tell me what your name is.
I gestured with my hands, Bluebird.
The little girl covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh, "I know, I know." After that, she did not ask another question, and only ate the food that the waiter brought in.
I ate the food too and soon the sun came down from the sky, "another day wasted, aish! I suppose I helped one person," I took one more look at the little girl passed out on the wooden chair of the restaurant.
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