Yijing lowered his hand from his face to the gourd fastened at his waist, pulling it free and tipping it above his head—the clear liquid falling easily into his mouth.
"Ahh, that is better," he exclaimed, and smiling, extended the gourd towards Chún. "Please, it is refreshing on such a warm day..." Yijing waggled the gourd invitingly, sending the clear sound of liquid sloshing to Chún's ears.
Bowing his head in thanks, Chún hesitantly took the gourd and, with the old cultivator watching and nodding encouragingly, carefully raised it to his lips and drank.
An indescribable coolness rushed out from Chún's mouth and down his throat, hitting his stomach like a cool breeze unfurling through his body. For a moment he felt that he was standing under the small waterfall further down the mountain where he usually washed—instead of on a boulder beneath the Golden Crow.
Chún felt a shiver pass through him, followed by a rush of energy. Small popping noises came from his muscles and joints, causing him to twitch in surprise. He lowered the gourd hurriedly to avoid spilling it and stared at the old cultivator with wide eyes.
"This… this is a treasure," he breathed. "Honoured elder, you should not waste it on this unworthy one..."
He hastily pushed the gourd back into Yijing's hand and scrambled off the boulder to bow deeply.
Yijing snorted gently and hopped off the boulder, whacking Chún across the shoulders as he landed in front of him.
"None of that nonsense, xiǎo yǒu. It is water—not a treasure. Or at least," the old man waggled the gourd in Chún's face, forcing him to straighten up as he ambled away toward the stream at the far edge of the pasture, "not a treasure an ordinary man would recognise. Follow me—we can watch the flock from here as well as there."
Chún blinked again—he seemed to be doing that more than usual today—and scrambled to follow. Yijing moved with surprising speed, despite his short frame, and Chún caught up just as they reached the stream.
"I can refill your gourd, honoured elder—"
His words trailed off.
Yijing extended the gourd into the air above the stream, and vibrant blue mist curled upward like drifting incense. Cerulean motes—like living fireflies—danced through the haze and poured into the open mouth of the gourd.
Chún's pupils shrank in shock, but before he could speak, the stream gave a sound like a chuckle and rose upward in a silver twist, flowing after the mist like a coiling serpent.
The quiet pop of the cork startled him from his trance. Yijing was watching him steadily.
"Tell me, xiǎo yǒu—what did you see?"
"Water... the Cry of the Stream—it... into your—and then the water... just—"
Yijing's wrinkled face broke into a smile. "Cry of the Stream, is it? Good. Very good."
He tapped Chún lightly with his staff. "After hearing your verse, I thought that might be how you would see it."
His expression grew solemn.
"What would you say, xiǎo yǒu, if I told you even the mightiest—"
He scowled suddenly, startling Chún.
"—even the mightiest cultivator would have seen only water move from stream to gourd?"
Then Yijing smiled again, broad and bright.
"But xiǎo yǒu can see more..."
He laughed at Chún's stunned expression and turned back toward the boulder, raising his voice in chant:
Come with me, xiǎo yǒu
Treasures of Heaven and Earth indeed, my friend
Treasures of Heaven and Earth.
Chún opened his mouth, then closed it again. The old cultivator was already walking away, his staff tapping lightly as he crossed sun-warmed grass and into the treeline.
The moment stretched. Chún remained still, uncertain whether to laugh, kneel, or simply breathe. His body buzzed with the echo of the drink, a low thrumming that hadn't quite faded. His limbs felt loose and light. The air around him tasted sharper—cooler than it should have been under the Golden Crow's gaze.
He glanced at the flock. The geese were grazing peacefully, as if none of this were strange at all. A few flapped and honked in lazy objection, but not one had wandered far. That too felt strange.
Chún blinked and followed, only realising as they reached the shade that Yijing had not returned to the boulder at all, but had settled near a fallen log beneath the canopy. That made sense, since the warmest part of the day was fast approaching and the boulder was too hot in the direct sunlight. If it hadn't been for the strange energy of the old man's drink, he felt that he would have fainted like one of those legendary imperial court beauties the village storyteller never stopped praising. As it was, he definitely felt light headed.
Only then did he realise he'd drifted from his duties. Instinct took over, even as his thoughts swirled like a whirlpool. Taking a deep breath of the still cool wildflower scented mountain air, he shaded his eyes and checked the sun's position, then slowly moved over into the pasture to check that the geese were moving into the shade closer to the stream at the north end of the mountain meadow as the heat of the day increased.
Chivying a few geese who seemed intent on roosting in the middle of the field and prodding them towards the trees, Chún nodded in satisfaction as a number of geese walked into the water and started drifting about with busy honks as they prodded the stream-bed for juicy tidbits. These tasks Chún had done many times before, so Chún's thoughts could settle into the comfort of habit as he worked.
Eventually all of the flock were out of direct sunlight and Chún trotted over to retrieve his herding staff, roughly wrapped buns and skin of thinned wine that he had left behind when he had jumped off the boulder earlier, then joined Yijing on the log next to the water.
The old man seemed absorbed in watching the beams of sunlight falling through the leaves, dance over the shifting surface of the stream, chased now and then by an iridescent dragonfly—only to be leapt at by hungry fish, scattering jewelled droplets through the air.
Chún was hesitant to interrupt Yijing's thoughts, so he busied himself with unwrapping his what little he had. The scent of water and wild greenery helped mask the staleness of the buns and Chún took a moment to throw a silent curse at Fatty Nie the village baker that would only trade him yesterday's leftovers.
Normally, Chún wouldn't care about the buns, but having someone with him made him conscious of how little he had to share.
"Forgive me, Senior, I have little to offer for a guest", he said quietly; suddenly aware of his bare feet and the cast-off shirt and pants held at the waist by a grass rope he had twisted together himself.
"If you would share mine as well, I'd gladly share with you," answered Yijing. "Many times I have wished for as much of a feast as you hold in your hands," he added as he offered over some sticks of jerked meat and fruits in return. Seeing the look of trepidation on Chún's face he smiled, "It's ordinary food".
The two of them split the repast equally and ate slowly, watching the flock resting among the trees and paddling in the water. Chún's thinned wine was ignored as they passed the gourd between them. The water was no longer shocking - it was pleasantly refreshing and he felt comfortable all over - it even seemed to bring the buns back to freshness when Yijing sprinkled them with a sly wink.