Chapter 8 — The Beginning

Du Biyan said, "Of course she does. The mistress is only human. But when master says the mistress has gone to visit her family, he doesn't mean her real family—he means she's gone back to our own sect, to Xiaozhu Peak, to see our martial uncle Shuiyue."

Zhang Qingyue said in surprise, "What?"

Du Biyan said, "When the mistress was young, she came from the Xiaozhu Peak lineage. She and the master of Xiaozhu Peak, Master Shuijing, were fellow disciples, and they were extremely close. Later, no one knows quite how it happened, but the mistress—a beauty like a flower—actually married our master. I hear that back then, many of the Canglan Sect's male martial uncles took it hard..."

"Thwack." A chopstick struck Du Biyan—not hard, but it left a red mark. The two of them jumped in fright and saw Tian Buhui glaring furiously, one chopstick missing from his hand. Du Biyan turned and stuck out his tongue at Zhang Qingyue, and neither dared speak another word; they lowered their heads and ate desperately.

At this point, Song Dayi said to Tian Buhui, "Master, the sect leader summoned the seven branches to gather this time—why is it that only Martial Uncle Shuiyue didn't come?"

Tian Buhui snorted, picked up another pair of chopsticks, and said, "Isn't it just that old Taoist nun feigning illness, sending word to our sect leader brother that she has a headache and fever and can't come. And our sect leader brother—really—actually believed her. Hmph, if she had come today, even if I couldn't grab the best, I wouldn't necessarily be stuck with..."

The fourth disciple, He Dachuan, gave a dry cough and said quietly, "Master, Martial Uncle Shuiyue's branch never accepts male disciples."

Tian Buhui choked, then shook his head and said, "And your mistress—the moment she heard Shuiyue had some ailment, she immediately took Ling'er over to see her, as if the sky had fallen. Honestly."

The disciples exchanged glances, all looking pleased. Song Dayi hesitated a moment before venturing, "Master, then how long do you suppose the mistress will stay at Martial Uncle Shuiyue's?"

Tian Buhui glared at him and said sourly, "What do you mean, how long? She goes today, she's back tonight."

"Aah!" Sighs rose from all the disciples, every face falling in disappointment. Tian Buhui looked them over, snorted, and said to Song Dayi, "Did your mistress guide your cultivation again today?"

Before Song Dayi could speak, the second disciple, Wu Dayi, cut in, "Master, don't ask him. Our eldest senior brother fled the field today—how shameless."

Song Dayi said angrily, "Nonsense! I was following Master's orders to help our little junior brother..."

"Boo..." Shouts of derision rose on all sides.

The meal took half an hour. After everyone left, Zhang Qingyue meant to stay and help, but Du Biyan said, "Little junior brother, thank you, but I can handle things here. You won the bet against me—don't worry, I'll chop bamboo for you tomorrow."

Zhang Qingyue felt rather embarrassed and was about to say something when he heard Song Dayi's voice: "Old Six, don't help him." The words had barely fallen when Song Dayi came in through the door and said to Zhang Qingyue, "Little junior brother, come, I'll take you to your room."

Zhang Qingyue nodded, and Du Biyan said, "Eldest senior brother, what do you mean?"

Song Dayi said, "Our little junior brother has just joined the sect and needs to build a solid foundation. It's not yet time for slacking."

Du Biyan said, "Fair enough. How about this, little junior brother—consider it a favor I owe you. In the future, if there's anything you need done, just say the word and I'll do it. All right?"

Zhang Qingyue said, "Sixth senior brother, why don't we just forget it? After all..."

Du Biyan said, "What kind of talk is that? Am I the sort who can't tell right from wrong, loyal from treacherous? What I promised you, I naturally must do—otherwise I'd leave myself open to ridicule and be laughed at by all our senior brothers for nothing."

Zhang Qingyue nodded, though he still did not quite understand what this had to do with telling right from wrong or loyal from treacherous.

Song Dayi took Zhang Qingyue's hand and said, "Little junior brother, come, I'll take you to your new room."

The two walked out of the kitchen. The sky had gone dark, and a bright moon was slowly rising, hanging in the eastern sky. They passed the entrance of Shoujing Hall, and Zhang Qingyue looked inside: all lamps were out, pitch-black, with only moonlight spilling across the hall's front—it had a rather eerie feel.

After walking a while longer, they returned to the covered corridor where the disciples lived. Song Dayi brought him to the last room on the right and said, "Little junior brother, the room where you woke this morning is the one I live in. The other junior brothers live in order from there, all on the right side. Those seven rooms on the left are empty." He paused, looked at Zhang Qingyue, and said, "Living all alone—are you afraid?"

Zhang Qingyue shook his head.

Song Dayi smiled slightly. "That's the way. How can we men be afraid of being alone? Come, let's go in." And with that he led Zhang Qingyue inside.

Zhang Qingyue looked at this place, unfamiliar now but destined to be his long companion: a small courtyard with a green pine on the left and five or six tall, slender bamboos on the right, two or three men high. A little path of small cobblestones ran through the yard, grass on either side, and as the night wind blew, the leaves and bamboo branches swayed gently and a faint, fresh scent of grass drifted over—very quiet and pure.

Song Dayi opened the door, went in, and lit the lamp. "Little junior brother, come in."

Zhang Qingyue stepped inside and saw that the furnishings were as simple and plain as Song Dayi's room—a table, chairs, a bed, and nothing else of note.

Song Dayi said, "I cleaned this place up a bit today, so you can stay here for now. Life in the mountains is austere, and you're young—you may feel lonely. But we who cultivate the Way are meant to endure all kinds of trials. From now on, you'll have to see to your own daily needs."

Zhang Qingyue said, "I understand, eldest senior brother."

Song Dayi nodded, glanced around, and said, "Well then, if there's nothing else, I'll be going. You've had a tiring day—go to bed early."

Zhang Qingyue answered, saw his eldest senior brother to the door, and then suddenly thought of something. "Eldest senior brother, it's only just gotten dark—why haven't any of the senior brothers come out for a walk?"

Song Dayi laughed. "You don't know. Even the youngest of us has been studying the Way on Dazhu Peak for decades. We rarely get out on ordinary days, and we know this peak so well we're sick of it, so no one bothers to stroll about. Old Four loves to read, Old Two loves to hum tunes, and the diligent ones like Old Three cultivate in their rooms. Generally no one comes out."

Only then did Zhang Qingyue understand. Song Dayi smiled and ruffled his hair, gave him a couple more reminders, and turned to go.

Zhang Qingyue returned to his room and shut the door, and in that instant it seemed the whole world had suddenly gone still, without a single human sound. He walked silently to the table and sat there blankly for a while. With nothing to do, he blew out the lamp, took off his outer robe, and lay down on the bed. He tossed and turned, and before he knew how long it had been, he drifted into a hazy sleep.

"Ah!"

In the darkness, Zhang Qingyue gave a low cry, flipped over, and sat up, gasping for breath. Just now he had dreamed of returning to Liumiao Village, of seeing his parents again, seeing all his childhood playmates, and the other uncles and aunts—all joyful together. But suddenly they had all become corpses, rivers of blood flowing everywhere—a horror beyond words. He gave a whole-body shudder and woke with a start.