Speak Water, Walk Sky

Ancient scrolls tell of a time when words shaped reality, when masters of the Way could command the elements with their breath. In the mountains above Lake Taihu, where mist clings to bamboo like thoughts to an unquiet mind, such wisdom was once passed from master to student in whispers, in silences, in the spaces between heartbeats.

Here, at Dawn Mountain Temple, thirteen stone pillars rose from the morning fog like fingers reaching for heaven. Each pillar bore thousands of characters, carved by generations of masters who had learned to speak the language of wind and water. Young Wei had spent countless hours tracing these characters with his fingertips, trying to understand their deeper meaning.

A warm breeze stirred the prayer flags as Wei knelt before Master Lin. Twelve other disciples formed a circle around them, each holding an unlit paper lantern. They had gathered for the Moon Speaking ceremony, when heaven draws closest to earth and the veil between word and reality grows thin.

Wei felt the familiar weight of the jade pendant against his chest—his father's last gift before the sea claimed him. Ten years had passed, but the lessons of that storm still haunted his dreams. *The sea gives, and the sea takes*, his father had said. *But it always speaks truth*.

But heaven was not peaceful tonight.

"Storm comes," Wei's brother Chen shouted from below, his voice carrying up the thousand steps. He stood on the deck of the *Dancing Dragon*, the largest fishing vessel on Lake Taihu. "Like none I've seen in thirty years!"

The *Dancing Dragon* had been their father's pride, a testament to four generations of fishermen. Now Chen carried that legacy, while Wei had chosen a different path—one that their mother still couldn't understand. *How can speaking to water fill our nets?* she would ask.

Master Lin remained motionless, eyes closed, as if Chen's words were merely leaves scattered by the wind. Wei felt the familiar ache of being caught between two worlds—the mystic heights of Dawn Mountain and the practical depths of his family's fishing legacy.

"Your mind churns like the waters below," Master Lin said without opening his eyes. "How can you hope to command the elements when you cannot command your own thoughts?"

Lightning split the sky, followed instantly by thunder that shook the temple bells. The other disciples flinched, but Wei held his position. Three years of training had taught him this much control, at least. He watched as his brother's crew scrambled to secure rigging and hatches. Thirty souls aboard—families he had known since childhood.

"Honorable Master," Wei said, keeping his voice steady despite the wind that now whipped his robes. "My brother sails with thirty souls aboard. The *Dancing Dragon* cannot reach harbor before—"

"Before what?" Master Lin's eyes opened, revealing irises like polished jade. "Before the storm that exists? Or before the storm you speak into being with your fear?"

The first drops of rain struck the temple stones like scattered coins. Below, the *Dancing Dragon* pitched in the growing waves. Wei could see Chen struggling with the tiller as other boats fled toward shelter. His brother's voice carried faintly on the wind: "Secure the children below!"

Master Lin stood in one fluid motion, his crimson robes billowing. "Tonight's lesson will be practical." He walked to the temple's edge, where stone met sky. The other disciples murmured among themselves—never had the Moon Speaking ceremony been interrupted.

"Rise, Young Wei. Show us what three years of observation have taught you about the nature of speaking." Master Lin's voice carried an edge Wei had never heard before. "Or do you still believe words are merely breath shaped by tongue and teeth?"

Wei stood, his knees trembling not from fear but from possibility. He had watched Master Lin perform miracles with words alone—commanding wind, shaping water, even healing the sick. But understanding how was like trying to catch mist with his hands.

"The ancient texts speak of those who could walk the sky," Master Lin continued, gesturing to the storm-dark heavens. "But this was no mere trick of levitation. It was understanding that the air itself desires to become solid beneath one who truly knows its name." He turned to Wei. "What does water desire, Young Wei?"

Thunder crashed again. On the lake, a massive wave lifted the *Dancing Dragon* nearly vertical. Women screamed. Children cried. Wei saw his brother lashing himself to the tiller, just as their father had done on that fatal night a decade ago.

Wei closed his eyes, remembering countless meditation sessions spent listening to the lake below. He thought of the thousands of hours watching its moods, its rhythms, its endless dance between stillness and motion. "Water desires..." he began, then stopped, feeling the truth rise from somewhere deeper than thought. "Water desires to dance."

Master Lin smiled, and in that smile Wei saw something new—not just approval, but recognition. "Then ask it to dance with you."

Wei stepped to the edge. Thirty feet below, the lake's surface churned like a pot of boiling oil. Wind pulled at his robes, trying to unbalance him. Behind him, he heard the other disciples gasp.

"*BECOME MY DANCE PARTNER!*" he commanded, his voice carrying the full weight of three years' training, of a lifetime spent on these waters, of his father's last lesson about the sea's truth.

The water directly below the temple stilled, forming a perfect circle of calm.

"Good," Master Lin said. "Now step onto your partner's hand."

Wei's heart thundered as he placed one foot onto the air above the water. Nothing. He started to fall—

"*RISE TO MEET ME!*" The water surged upward, forming a solid pillar beneath his foot. Wei stepped fully onto it, finding it as firm as the temple stone. He thought of all the stories Master Lin had told of the ancient ones who could walk between heaven and earth. Perhaps they weren't just stories after all.

"The power is not in your feet," Master Lin called as Wei took another step. "It is in your voice. Speak to the storm!"

Wei raised his arms as another lightning bolt illuminated the lake. "*CLEAR ME A PATH!*" The waters parted before him, creating a narrow bridge of calm leading toward the *Dancing Dragon*.

He began to run.

Each step required a new command. "*HOLD FIRM! STAY TRUE! DANCE WITH ME!*" The water responded, but the effort of speaking with such authority left him gasping. Halfway to the ship, his concentration slipped.

The storm struck back. A wave the size of the temple itself rose before him, blocking out the sky. In its face, Wei saw his father's last moment reflected. His voice failed. He plunged into chaos.

"*SPEAK FROM YOUR CENTER!*" Master Lin's voice cut through the tempest like a blade through silk. "*REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE!*"

Deep beneath the surface, tumbling in darkness, Wei remembered his first lesson at Dawn Mountain. Master Lin had sat him before a pool of still water and asked him to make it move without touching it. Wei had tried for hours, speaking louder and louder, until his voice was raw.

*Words do not describe reality*, Master Lin had said finally. *They create it. But first, you must create yourself*.

His head broke the surface. "*I AM THE BRIDGE BETWEEN SKY AND SEA!*" The water hardened beneath him, launching him upward. "*THE STORM BOWS TO MY BREATH!*"

He landed on his feet atop the waves. The *Dancing Dragon* wallowed nearby, its crew staring in astonishment as Wei walked across the chaos toward them. With each step, his voice grew stronger, more certain.

"*WAVES, BECOME STAIRS! WIND, BECOME WINGS!*" He leaped from wave to wave, no longer fighting the storm but dancing with it. The water moved with him, responding to his voice like a well-trained horse to its rider's touch.

Wei reached the ship and grabbed the gunwale. Looking up, he met Chen's wide-eyed stare. His brother's mouth moved, but no words came out.

"*YOUR ROPES ARE STEEL!*" Wei shouted to the terrified crew. "*YOUR WOOD IS IRON! YOUR SAILS KNOW THE WAY HOME!*" Each command reshaped reality, just as Master Lin had taught. The *Dancing Dragon* steadied. Its sails filled with wind, and it turned toward the harbor as if guided by an invisible hand.

Wei ran alongside on the water, his voice never faltering, speaking calm into existence with each breath. He thought of his father, of all the times he'd watched him read the water's mood. Perhaps this was what he had meant about the sea's truth—that it would always respond to those who knew how to speak its language.

When they finally reached the shore, Wei found Master Lin waiting. The other disciples had moved the ceremony to the harbor, their paper lanterns now lit and reflecting off the calming water. In their light, Wei could see tears on his brother's face.

"Master," Wei said, bowing deeply. "I still don't fully understand. The water... it spoke back to me. I could feel its desires, its fears, its joy in the dance."

"Understanding is not required," Master Lin replied. "Only speaking with truth." He gestured to the crew of the *Dancing Dragon*, who were already spreading word of what they had witnessed. "You have given them a new story to tell. In the telling, it will shape reality anew."

The storm faded to a gentle breeze that carried the scent of wet stone and night-blooming jasmine. Wei looked up at Dawn Mountain, where the temple bells still rang with lingering thunder. His jade pendant felt warm against his skin.

"Every word is a seed," he said, finally understanding what Master Lin had tried to teach him for three years. "And every breath, a garden."

Master Lin nodded. "Now you begin to speak with wisdom." He turned to the other disciples, who still held their lanterns. "The Moon Speaking ceremony is complete. Young Wei has demonstrated the highest truth: that reality itself bows to the voice that speaks without doubt."

Chen approached, still dripping from the storm. He knelt before Master Lin, then faced his brother. "I never understood why you left the *Dancing Dragon* for this mountain. Now I see—you didn't leave our father's path at all. You just found a different way to speak with the sea."

In the years that followed, many sought out Dawn Mountain Temple, hoping to learn the secret of walking on water. But those who truly listened discovered something far more valuable: the power of speaking reality into being, one breath at a time.

They say that on still nights, when the moon hangs full above Lake Taihu, you can still hear the whispers of those who learned to speak water and walk sky. And if you listen closely enough, you might hear the truth that Young Wei discovered—that every word we speak is a stone dropped in the pool of reality, and its ripples shape the world.

Some say the stone pillars of Dawn Mountain Temple still stand, their ancient characters waiting for those who would learn to speak with the voice of creation. But whether you find the temple or not matters little. For the true secret was never in the mountain, but in the understanding that reality itself is nothing more than the longest story ever told—and we are all its speakers.