Xu Hao had made a chart.
Da Bao was holding it upside down.
"Why have you drawn so many little moons?"
"Those are misses."
"And these?"
"Hits."
Da Bao counted the marks twice, then turned the strip of bark the right way round.
"Still more moons."
"I was hoping that might change too."
Xu Hao retrieved the chart before his eldest brother decided to improve the results. Four mornings of archery were recorded across it, along with the distance, number of arrows, and notes on the wind. The first day he'd struck the bark twice in ten shots. The most recent day he'd managed five.
Five felt good. Five was also the sort of number a man could become foolishly proud of if he forgot the five arrows buried elsewhere in the forest.
Er Bao looked over his shoulder.
"Yesterday had less wind."
"Yes."
"And you stopped after ten shots?"
"My shoulder was tired."
Da Bao frowned. "I thought the idea was to get stronger."
"It is. I'd prefer to keep the shoulder attached while I do it."
His brother handed him a repaired arrow. Its new feathers had been tied down with a surprisingly neat length of thread.
"Then today," Da Bao said, "we'll find out whether the hits were luck."
Xu Hao looked at the arrow, then at his grin.
"An invitation delivered with such tenderness."
* * *
The farther target was already waiting in the clearing.
Da Bao had made it the previous evening, a broad piece of bark painted with pale clay. He'd fixed it to a stump twenty-five paces from their usual firing line, ten paces beyond the distance Xu Hao had been practising.
Xu Hao surveyed the ground.
There was short grass in front of the stump, a stand of pines behind it, and a narrow animal run threading between the trees to the right. The run was nearly invisible unless one knew what to look for. He'd walked past it a dozen times before Er Bao pointed it out.
"It's farther," Da Bao announced.
"Very observant."
"Big target. You won't miss."
"That sentence contains a claim we should test before repeating."
Er Bao passed him the bow but didn't move away.
"Where will an arrow go if you miss?"
"Into the trees."
"Which trees?"
Xu Hao followed the line of the shot. The stump stood in front of the pines, but between two trunks lay a gap where the ground dropped out of sight. An arrow passing to the right of the target could carry through it.
He lowered the bow.
"We need to move the target."
Da Bao looked offended. "I spent half an hour putting it there."
"And you'll spend considerably less time moving it."
"There's nothing behind it."
"That's what worries me. We can't see what's behind it."
Da Bao looked at Er Bao, expecting support. His twin walked to the stump, peered through the gap, then pointed farther left to a low bank of earth.
"There. An arrow that passes the bark will strike the slope."
They carried the target over. Da Bao grumbled about wasting a good position but checked the ground behind it himself before returning to the firing line.
Xu Hao set an arrow to the string.
From twenty-five paces the white circle was a surprisingly small thing.
He drew slowly. His right shoulder rose. He corrected it, breathed out, and released.
The arrow buried itself in the earth below the target.
Da Bao nodded. "Low."
"I had noticed."
"Shoot again."
Xu Hao took the second arrow and repeated the draw. This one struck the bark's lower edge with a thud.
He smiled.
Then a branch snapped somewhere beyond the bank.
Sia was already standing beside him, her ears pointing towards the trees. Grey had risen at Er Bao's feet. Little One took two eager steps forward before Da Bao called her back.
All three men waited.
A small brown animal darted out from behind the far stump, crossed the opening, and vanished into the ferns. Something between a rabbit and a squirrel, Xu Hao thought, though it seemed to possess too many legs for either.
Da Bao laughed softly. "You might have shot supper."
Xu Hao looked at the bow in his hands.
"I didn't know it was there."
"Neither did I."
"Then it's fortunate we moved the target."
Er Bao walked over to retrieve the arrow. He examined the bank, then glanced at the dark passage between the pines where the target had first stood.
He said nothing. He didn't need to.
Xu Hao unstrung the bow. Two arrows were enough for the morning.
Da Bao looked at him as though he'd betrayed a sacred family tradition.
"You hit one."
"Yes."
"Out of two. Better than your chart."
"And I nearly practised shooting into a place I hadn't checked. Put that on the chart as well."
* * *
Er Bao found him after lunch with the chart spread across his knees.
Xu Hao had added a new column, though his charcoal marks were becoming so cramped that he'd soon need another piece of bark.
"What does that one mean?" Er Bao asked.
"Shots I chose not to take."
"You chose not to take eight shots today?"
"Yes."
"Does that count as success?"
Xu Hao thought about the little animal vanishing into the ferns.
"Not by itself. But it might keep me from making a mistake that isn't easily corrected."
Er Bao sat on the flat rock beside him. The stream was audible below the ridge. Somewhere at camp, Da Bao was making a great deal of noise while pretending to repair a cooking pot.
"Your Spirit practice?" Er Bao asked.
"Less satisfying to record."
"Tell me anyway."
Xu Hao held up the bark. A row of short strokes sat beneath the archery marks. They represented the few times he'd been able to notice the faint warmth inside himself without chasing it away.
"Three times yesterday. Twice this morning. But I couldn't hold it as long today."
"Were you tired?"
"A little."
"Then that belongs on the chart too."
Xu Hao looked down at his untidy columns.
"I used to tell students not to remove inconvenient details from a record."
"Did they listen?"
"Occasionally. Usually after I caught them doing it."
Er Bao smiled.
He picked up a small stone and put it on Xu Hao's knee.
"Don't move it. Don't try to feel earth Spirit inside it. Just close your eyes and tell me when you notice your own."
Xu Hao complied. He could hear the stream and the cooking pot's continued struggle for survival. The stone was cold through his trousers. His shoulders still felt the morning's two shots.
After a while, the faint warmth returned beneath his ribs.
He said so.
"Good," Er Bao replied. "Now leave it alone."
Xu Hao let it be. For several breaths it remained, small and unremarkable. Then Da Bao shouted something about the pot's handle, and Xu Hao's attention broke. The sensation disappeared.
He opened his eyes.
"Not very impressive."
"I didn't ask for impressive."
"What did you ask for?"
"The truth."
Er Bao returned the stone to the ground and left him to finish his notes.
* * *
Da Bao was repairing the arrows when Xu Hao joined him later that afternoon.
One shaft had split where it struck a root. Another needed fresh fletching. The giant worked with surprising delicacy, pulling thread taut around a feather while holding the wood steady with the edge of one broad thumb.
"Your hands are better at that than mine," Xu Hao said.
"Your hands are better at drawing miserable little circles."
"They're supposed to be circles."
"Then we're both skilled men."
Xu Hao sat beside him and began sorting the usable shafts.
For a while they worked without speaking.
"You stopped early this morning," Da Bao said at last.
"My shoulder was sore."
"I know."
Xu Hao glanced up. The giant kept his attention on the feather.
"When you made Sia's card," Da Bao said, "I was there. I watched Er Bao help you sit. I watched you try to hold the cup."
Xu Hao put down the arrow.
"I remember."
"I kept thinking I should be doing something. Carrying you somewhere. Finding medicine. Anything."
"You didn't know what was wrong."
"Neither did you."
Da Bao tied off the thread and inspected his work.
"I don't mind that you're weak now," he said. "You're learning. I don't mind that you miss. That's why we make more arrows."
Xu Hao waited.
"I mind when you look like you're going to fall down and pretend you're fine because you want one more try."
It was the longest serious speech Da Bao had made about the matter. He seemed embarrassed by it.
Xu Hao picked up a shaft and turned it between his fingers.
"My mother used to tell me something similar."
"Was she as clever as Er Bao?"
"Considerably. She'd have told both of you to stop making me run on a blister."
Da Bao laughed, but only once.
"I'll tell you when I need to stop," Xu Hao said. "Before I fall over."
Da Bao nodded and handed him a finished arrow.
"And I'll tell you when you need to stop even if you don't like hearing it."
"An arrangement heavily weighted in your favour."
"Older brother," Da Bao reminded him.
"Unfortunately."
* * *
Rain arrived before supper.
It began as a soft patter against the leaves, then fell hard enough to turn the lower trail into running mud. The dogs crowded beneath the shelter. Little One tried to arrange herself across Da Bao's lap. Grey sat beside Er Bao, watching the darkening trees. Sia found Xu Hao's blanket and shook herself over it.
"Thank you," Xu Hao told her. "I was concerned it might stay dry."
When the first rush of rain eased, Er Bao went out to check the warning line. Xu Hao took the hooded lamp and followed.
The stones on the northern side were holding, but a little stream had formed beneath the southern approach. Water ran under the grass, lifting it. By morning the alarm would be half washed away.
Xu Hao crouched beside the channel.
"Could you raise a wall?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Then why are you looking at me?"
"Because I want to see what you'd do first."
Xu Hao picked up a flat stone and pressed it against the water's path. The water curled around one side and began digging a new channel.
He moved the stone. It found another way out.
"The water," Xu Hao said, "has an unfortunate talent for ignoring instructions."
Er Bao said nothing.
Xu Hao took two smaller stones and placed them farther uphill. Instead of blocking the current completely, he split it so that neither branch ran directly beneath the grass. The water spread across the pebbles and slowed.
He adjusted one stone until the current stopped washing soil from beneath the warning line.
"That will hold for tonight," Er Bao said.
"Until the rain changes direction."
"Then we'll check again."
They checked the remaining stones by the dim lamp and went inside before the rain returned.
* * *
By the time the rain stopped, Da Bao had repaired the pot. Its handle sat a little crooked, but it held when Er Bao lifted it. His brother looked as pleased as if he'd won a tournament.
Xu Hao brought out his chart and added the day's final marks.
Two arrows shot. One hit. Eight deliberately unshot.
Spirit noticed once while tired.
Southern warning line diverted around rainwater. Check after next storm.
He paused before the last entry. There were no useful numbers for the moment a small animal had crossed his practice clearing, or for the expression on Da Bao's face while they repaired arrows. He thought about drawing another circle and decided against it.
Da Bao peered over his shoulder.
"Still keeping track of how often you're wrong?"
"Among other things."
"Put down that I fixed the pot."
"You want your own column?"
"Of course. My improvement should be recorded too."
Xu Hao took the charcoal and added a small, lopsided pot at the foot of the chart.
Da Bao inspected it.
"That looks nothing like a pot."
"Then perhaps next time you'll make one I can draw."
His brother laughed and went to serve supper.
Xu Hao rolled the bark and set it beside his sleeping place. Tomorrow, if the ground dried enough, they'd take the lower trail to look for small game. Sia would come with him. He wanted her nose ahead of his eyes, especially where the undergrowth hid the path.
It told him he was getting better at hitting a target. The rest of the day had reminded him that this was only useful if he knew when not to shoot.