Meandering River, Ardent Flame

by Vivian Chak

  ***

  Only now did Xiang realize that his father had been referring to the saying, 'in wine there is truth.' He supposed that a truth, disliked by his father and planted by Lang, had shown in his overly-liberal strokes, the product of an overwhelmed mind. Feints, falsehoods, did not cut like outright thrusts. Lang had died for his opposition. Dropping to his knees by his former teacher, Xiang sighed deeply as he stared at the expensive zitan mu staff. It had been overcome by steel, and now lay, still showing its wine-red hues, in crimson. And Xiang again marvelled at how unnaturally it refused to float.

  Night fell, and he sat up resolutely. His father's rectifying lessons always came at a high cost. Xiang vowed to not disappoint his father again.