A Light Touch

	A Dragon was Queen of her castle. This thought fostered Zhang Li’s approach to dealing with her underlings. From atop the raised platform she used to look down upon every station in the workshop, with her eyes closed, she could feel the thrum of activity as if it was the beating of some great beast’s heart.
	No, not some great beast. Her workshop, her kingdom. Li did not smile. She did not smile often. But the comparison pleased her.
	Green eyes snapped open as the Dragon locked her gaze on a wayward apprentice, his attention slipping even though she had granted him the honor of one of the most important tasks. “Ban Zhu!” she snapped, letting her voice conquer the din of the workshop and bring eyes first to her, and then to the young man. “Three eighths,” she continued, more gently but with no less force to her voice. “Not one half. Not one quarter. Three eighths.”
	“Of course, Master Zhang,” the diffident but talented boy responded, returning his attention fully to his work. Often it seemed that favored apprentices required more reminder that they were yet students, not less. Li did not mind. Though some would be shocked to hear her say it, there was more to life than simply talent with a chisel or skill in creating a design.
	With measured paces, Li approached each of her assistants and apprentices in turn, offering quiet advice or praise on each piece they created. She was firm in her directions and light with praise. Li had no use for those who could not motivate themselves to greatness. Those who shared her insatiable desire for knowledge would seek it, would seek her out, and would better themselves for it.
	The process repeated three further times before the jade clock she had made herself chimed to announce the end of the day. Each time, Li was pleased to see how her assistants progressed. Hour by hour, the designs she had produced took shape by the hands of her apprentices. Soon, it would be ready for a practical test.
	“Ban Zhu, please stay to assist me with attaching the second arm.” Li had long since come to expect obedience from her students. She was not known for a forgiving disposition. Young Zhu bowed his head in shame and mumbled an acknowledgement, undoubtedly already imagining the stern lecture he expected to receive.
	Li individually bid each of her other apprentices and assistants good night, as was her routine. Each she offered one final piece of small correction or one compliment on their work for the day. These simple routines were as much a pleasure to her as the bright smiles or thoughtful looks they held as they chewed their lips.
	Ban Zhu waited by the ballistae arm, perfectly made to her exact specifications. “Assist me,” Li instructed, lifting the heavy oaken beam easily. The young mortal struggled to help, confusion painted on his face. It faded when Li did not place the beam into the construction as she might have had she been alone, but waited instead for him to guide the arm into place and tell her to place it.
	Zhang Li lowered the arm into place with utmost care, letting Ban Zhu observe as it slipped perfectly into place. Li did then favor him with one of her rare smiles.
	“You knew,” she told him, still patient, still instructing. “But you did not understand. All parts must work together, must be flawless. Now, you can see. Your work provided this smooth fit. Everyone in this workshop must have the same goal, the same vision. If you had given me one half, or one quarter, all of the work everyone did today would have been wasted.”
	“I understand, Master Zhang,” Ban Zhu whispered, touching his fingers reverently to the ballista.
	Zhang Li took the boy’s face in her hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, letting him bask in her approval. When he had fully absorbed the moment, she sent him home with one final critique.
	Yes, she was Queen of this castle. But a wise Dragon knew that a trustworthy friend was worth far more than jade or silver.