The sun rises on the following day, casting long shadows across all the grotto. Sitting beneath the gingko, having spent the whole night in cultivation, Zhurong waits for the answer.
Ren takes a deep breath as he collects himself at the bottom of the gingko's mound, the sounds of early spring filling his ears with birdsong. Is he ready for this? Is he certain this is the path he must walk?
The sudden intrusion of a hand draws tension from Ren's shoulder as Yuanding steps past with gardening tools under arm. A wordless nod is his greeting, a wordless nod is all he needs to give.
Ren returns it, heart's resolve strengthening, and Yuanding turns to his gardening.
Ren isn't ready, never was. And yet, this is the path he must walk. He is a Disciple of the Heavenly Star, he is the earthly tool of the Guide Star's heavenly will. Wherever the light leads his steps, he is needed.
A bandit he may soon become, but a cultivator of the Guide Star he will always be first.
Finding his pride, Ren takes the first step towards the gingko. The gravel-strewn path crunches underfoot, aiding his ascent towards the meditation stone. A gentle breeze brushes hair from his face, tucking it behind the ear just the same as in his youth.
To cultivate is to declare yourself deserving of respect. To progress, you must prove yourself worthy. The Heavens constantly challenge claims of grandeur, but they likewise reward those who pass the tests.
It is time for yet another test.
Ren's shadow falls across Zhurong's face and a single eye cracks open. In that hazel hue lies a wordless question.
"If you are to be my teacher," Ren begins slowly, careful to avoid tripping over the words he spent the night repeating over and over again in his head, "I would know what I would be learning."
Zhurong's lips curl at the corners. Her other eye stays closed even as her open gaze twinkles with a pleased gleam, like she had been hoping for just such a question, "My roots are fire-aligned, same as yours," she chuckles, "it's why I even offered in the first place, really. Regardless," she tilts her head to the side as she frees a hand from her knee, "you're a piss-poor fit for my Core Law, but I reckon you'll do fine with my Supporting Law," she tilts her head to the opposite side, "You ever hear of the 'Charcoal Refining Law'?"
Ren shakes his head, a sense of relief spreading throughout his being. For a Master-Disciple relationship to bear fruit, it is important that both the master and disciple share spirit root alignment, otherwise the disciple will have great difficulty in learning from the master and the master won't be able to solidify their knowledge. With how slim his options are, he would take what he can get, but Zhurong sharing spirit root alignment still lifts a weight from his shoulders.
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"Well," she snorts, "I reckon I'll tell you more about it when you're properly my disciple and all that." Her sole open eye narrows, "And speaking of, you made your mind yet?"
"I have, but I want to make something clear, first."
"Yeah? And what's that?"
Ren takes a deep breath. This is it, no going back now. Either Zhurong accepts his terms or she won't and he'll be left adrift. "I won't go against the ideals of the Heavenly Star."
"You know," Zhurong rests her chin on her palm, her elbow braced against her knee, "I've heard a lot about you starry-eyed types and your ideals, but I've never managed to get a good idea of what those ideals are."
"The Way of the Guiding Light has two tenets," Ren explains, as was explained to him years ago, "to trust the light and to aid the lost. The Guide Star directed me to you, so I shall follow the lit path."
Zhurong's smile curls sharp, the corners of her lips like two daggers on her face. "As long as you keep your word," she's careful to fully enunciate those words, "and pull your weight, I don't much care what you do with your share of the loot."
"A bandit cares about keeping one's word?" Ren asks, the irony drawing a small smile across his face.
"I'm a cultivator first, kid," Zhurong chuckles as she yawns and picks herself up, finally opening the other eye as she does, "and in the world of cultivators, keeping your word is a matter of life and death." She shrugs as another yawn stretches her mouth, "Once you break your word, that's it. Lights out. You've broken the Pax Auctionia and nobody comes back from that."
"Pax Auctionia?" The unusual word rattles about Ren's mouth, the shape struggling to leave in one piece.
"Peace of the Auction or something," Zhurong shrugs, scratching at the burn scar, "Dunno what language that is, but it doesn't really matter. If the Auction can't trust you, then nobody else will either. To keep the Auction's trust, you keep your word. That's the rule."
"I will keep that in mind," Ren says and Zhurong nods.
"Yeah, well," she pauses, squinting at her legs as she paws a gourd from where it hangs from her hip. Uncapping the bottle, she guzzles down whatever foul mixture is inside. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she shivers as the alcohol hits her, "Shit, utter swill," she says with a smile, "anyways, you ready?"
"No."
"Good answer," with that, Zhurong folds her legs beneath her so that she sits on her heels, a pose copied by Ren.
Three times does Ren press his brow to the ground, three times does he acknowledge Zhurong as his master. Three times does Zhurong press her brow to the ground, three times does she acknowledge him as her disciple.
Just as the disciple learns from the master, so too does the master learn from the disciple.
"I realized something, Yuanding," Ren says as he approaches the gardening Yuanding. Yuanding sits up with trowel in hand, "I never thanked you properly for saving me."
Yuanding smiles, a little sheepish, "I had hoped you forgot about that, to speak the truth."
A buzzing bee bumbles by, the very first of the season.
Ren smiles and bows, "Yuanding, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for saving my life."
"Guide Star light your path, young wanderer."
"Yours as well, wise man."
