Chen Wuya crouched in the courtyard, his fingertips lightly brushing over the ground. The crooked stone line still bore faint traces, like a mark carelessly drawn by a child. He did not rub hard; he merely swept along the line once, and dust rose before settling, the mark fading away.
"That stroke was the beginning." He raised his head to look at Chen Xuan, his voice low. "Now, we need to draw a road that thousands upon thousands can walk."
Chen Xuan stood where he was, one hand unconsciously touching the blue cloth sash at his waist. His father had tied it on for him yesterday. The fabric was already worn pale, its edges frayed, yet whenever he gripped it, he always felt a surge of strength in his heart.
"What do you think," Chen Wuya asked as he rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the two children, "is the strength of your father's martial arts?"
Chen Yao hugged her mechanism tube and immediately looked up at the question. "Because no one else can understand it! They always say your moves break every rule, but you still win."
Chen Wuya smiled, but said nothing.
Chen Xuan, however, fell silent for a while before speaking. "Because it... isn't afraid of being wrong."
The night wind swept through the courtyard, stirring a string of bronze bells beneath the eaves. They gave a single clear chime. Chen Wuya looked into his son's eyes and nodded. "That's right. Not being afraid of being wrong is where being right begins."
He lifted his head and looked toward the sky. The Milky Way spanned the heavens, stars scattered thickly across it like scraps of silver strewn over black cloth. There were no clouds, no mist; the night sky was so clear that one could