Chapter 12 — The Mutation

Tian Lingsu helped him sit up, and the first thing Zhang Qingyue did was look at his own palm. But the skin of his right palm was whole and unmarked—apart from being somewhat pale, there was nothing strange about it at all. He stared blankly. He clearly remembered that a great flow of blood had poured from that palm—how was it that not a trace remained?

Could it all have been a nightmare?

"Xiaofan." Seeing him sit up and then stare blankly, dazed and abstracted, Tian Lingsu felt a stir of worry and nudged him.

Zhang Qingyue came to himself. He was about to tell her of the strange things that had just happened, but for a moment did not know where to begin, and the matter seemed to him too bizarre—even he was full of doubt. He hesitated, then at last said, "N-nothing, senior sister."

Only then did Tian Lingsu set her mind at ease. When she had come to, the sky was already late, and she found herself lying beneath a great pine, while her junior brother lay senseless in the clearing some distance away. Frightened, she had run to him at once, and thankfully he had woken after a short while.

Now Tian Lingsu looked around and said to Zhang Qingyue, "Junior brother, there's something very strange about this place. We'd best leave as soon as we can. Tomorrow I'll have Mother come and have a look."

Zhang Qingyue nodded and was about to rise when a stab of pain shot through his whole body and his head swam. Had Tian Lingsu not been quick to catch him, he would have fallen again.

Seeing how utterly pale he was, without a trace of color, Tian Lingsu was truly worried. She helped him up carefully, and Zhang Qingyue steadied himself and looked himself over. There were no wounds to be seen, so he said, "Senior sister, it's only a little dizziness. Nothing serious."

Tian Lingsu looked him over once more and saw that it was so. She nodded. "Then let's hurry back. It's already dark, and I'm afraid Father and Mother and all our senior brothers are worried."

Zhang Qingyue said, "Yes."

Tian Lingsu drew a deep breath and searched herself all over, finding nothing unusual, and wondered to herself how she could have fainted for no reason at all. Then she made a gesture, red light flashed, and with a whistle the Amber-red Silk darted out.

Tian Lingsu was just about to take Zhang Qingyue up when a "zhizhi" sounded beside them. They turned to look: the gray-furred monkey had appeared beside them at some point, grinning at them, and in its hand it dragged a black, two-foot-long rod of some unknown material.

Before the Quiet Hall on Dazhu Peak, Tian Buhui paced back and forth, his brows knit, a trace of anxiety on his face. That morning his daughter and that good-for-nothing seventh disciple had gone up the rear mountain to cut bamboo and play, and now that it was dark there was still no sign of them. Su Wan had gone out searching at first light, and by now he had sent the other disciples out one after another, but there was no sign of them on Dazhu Peak, and the surrounding country was all rolling hills and dense forest. To find two people in it was like fishing a needle from the sea.

As he stood there in his worry, a rushing sound came through the air, and Tian Buhui looked up to see Su Wan returning with the two young ones. By the look of Tian Lingsu and the other, there was nothing seriously wrong—except that on Zhang Qingyue's shoulder there perched a gray-furred monkey, he could not think from where.

Only then did Tian Buhui's heart settle, though the anger on his face had not retreated a whit. Zhang Qingyue glanced twice at his master and quailed, not daring to move, his head sunk to his chest—and to make matters worse, that gray monkey was mischievous beyond words, reaching over now and then to rummage in Zhang Qingyue's hair, as though trying to pick out a few lice.

Tian Lingsu put away the Amber-red Silk. Catching sight of her father standing before the hall in a rage, she rolled her eyes a few times, then put on a smile as blooming as a flower, innocent and utterly adorable, and skipped over to Tian Buhui's side. Taking his hand, she said, "Father, we're back."

Tian Buhui snorted. "Where have you been?"

Tian Lingsu said with a grin, "While Xiaofan was cutting bamboo, a monkey bullied him. I went to catch it and settle the score for him—there, that monkey." She pointed toward Zhang Qingyue.

The gray monkey on Zhang Qingyue's shoulder gave a start, squeaked "zhizhi" twice in their direction in a show of fury, then scratched its head and turned its attention back to Zhang Qingyue's hair.

Tian Lingsu made a face at it, then gave a rough account of the chase, adding, "...and later, when we chased it into the valley, I suddenly felt sick and somehow fainted. When I woke, Xiaofan was lying on the ground too, unconscious. But luckily neither of us was hurt, and when we were about to come back I saw that the monkey seemed very attached to Xiaofan, so I brought it along too."

Tian Buhui frowned and turned to his wife. "What's going on?"

Su Wan shook her head. "When I found the two of them on the rear mountain, I went down to have a look. There was nothing unusual about the place. I expect Ling'er's cultivation isn't deep enough, and she insisted on carrying Xiaofan with her on the Amber-red Silk through the air, until she exhausted herself."

Tian Lingsu wheedled, "Mother, what nonsense are you saying? How could my cultivation not be deep enough? Xiaofan, isn't that so?"

Zhang Qingyue said hastily, "Yes, yes, yes!"

Tian Buhui shot Zhang Qingyue a cold glance. "A disciple of the Canglan Sect, bullied by a monkey—if word of this gets out, you'll have shamed me to my bones."

Zhang Qingyue flushed red and did not dare make a sound, hanging his head.

Su Wan walked over and took Tian Lingsu's hand. "You haven't eaten all day. Hungry, aren't you?"

Tian Lingsu stuck out her tongue and laughed. "So hungry, Mother!"

Su Wan gave her a look and drew her toward the kitchen, saying as she went, "A child's body with a grown woman's tricks!"

Zhang Qingyue felt hungry now too, but in Tian Buhui's presence he did not dare stir a muscle. He listened as Su Wan and Tian Lingsu's voices receded, yet his master made no further sound. He stole a glance upward: the space before the hall was empty. Tian Buhui had gone off at some point—no doubt he felt it a waste of breath even to curse this idiot disciple.

Zhang Qingyue stood there at a loss, frozen a long while, until his stomach growled like thunder. Then he turned—and by some reflex would not head for the kitchen, but walked instead toward his own room.

Back in his room, he shut the door. The gray monkey on his shoulder looked this way and that, gave a "zhizhi," as though it knew it was home, leapt down from his shoulder, scrambled in two or three bounds onto the bed, bounded and leaped about, then seized the pillow and flung it wildly this way and that, overjoyed.

Watching the gray monkey, Zhang Qingyue's lips curved in a faint smile, but hunger at once pressed it down again. He sat down at the table, poured a cup of cold water from the pot—left over from the night before, long since gone cold—and drank it down.

A chill ran straight to his heart.

He sat blankly a while, then reached into his breast and drew something out: it was that ugly short rod. By now the bead Puzhao had given him was fused tight to the nameless rod, and even their color had changed together to a profound blue-black, dark and murky, while at the junction there was a patch of dull red, like clotted bloodstain—not merely ugly, but frankly a little disgusting.

He looked at it a long while, then suddenly gave a bitter laugh, flung out his hand with all his might, and hurled the rod at the wall. It struck with a loud crack and fell to the floor, coming to rest in a corner of the room.