Chapter 22 — Nightfall

From the depths of Zhang Qingyue's heart, an indescribable tenderness suddenly welled up, as though that woman were the one he wished to guard for all his life—and even if he must endure a hundred trials and a thousand calamities for her sake, he would not hesitate, would never regret.

In that moment, how he wished it could be forever!

"Junior Sister Ling'er." Suddenly a call came from the Rainbow Bridge. Tian Lingsu turned at once, her eyes in that instant brimming with joy, and a smile of genuine delight rose at the corners of her mouth.

"Senior Brother Qi, you've come."

At that moment Zhang Qingyue's heart seemed to shatter—yet he felt no pain. His whole heart was hollow and empty, echoing only that one phrase: "Senior Brother Qi, Senior Brother Qi, Senior Brother Qi."

With difficulty he turned his head, and saw a man striding quickly down the Rainbow Bridge—sword-like brows, starry eyes, extraordinarily handsome, with a bearing beyond the common run. Who else could it be but Qi Hao?

Qi Hao walked quickly to Tian Lingsu's side and said gently: "Forgive me. My fellow disciples are young and fond of merrymaking—they kept it up so late that I only just got to sleep, and that is why I'm late. I've kept you waiting long, haven't I?"

Tian Lingsu had been a little vexed, but for some reason, the moment she saw Qi Hao's figure, it vanished without a trace. She shook her head and smiled: "It's all right. I haven't been here long either." She paused, glanced at the pool beside them, and said, "But why did you ask to meet here? Lingzun flew into a rage in broad daylight, and I'm still a little frightened even now."

Qi Hao laughed: "There's nothing to fear. I asked my master about it—Lingzun is behaving just as usual. It was only teasing us young disciples. And after that commotion today, it's all the quieter here tonight, isn't it?"

Tian Lingsu blushed and lowered her head: "Meeting in secret like this—I wonder if it's really all right?"

Qi Hao gazed at her gentle, lovely face and said softly: "Junior Sister Ling'er, ever since we first met on Dazhu Peak two years ago, I have never been able to forget you. My longing will not cease; often I lie awake at night, and you are all that fills my mind."

Tian Lingsu bit her lip without thinking, her face reddening another shade—yet not in the least angry. Rather, a thread of sweetness wound through her heart.

Qi Hao went on: "Junior Sister Ling'er, I—"

Tian Lingsu suddenly raised her head: "Senior Brother Qi, you may just call me Ling'er." At that she lowered her head again and said quietly, "My—my father and mother both call me that."

Qi Hao was overjoyed, as though he could scarcely believe his ears. He hesitated a moment before pressing: "Truly? Ling—Ling'er?"

Tian Lingsu glanced at him, reached into her bosom, and slowly drew out a small brocade box. Her eyes lowered to the ground, as though she had mustered all her courage before she said softly: "This 'Cooling Pearl'—I have carried it on my person these past two years."

Having said this, she dared not look at Qi Hao again. Yet a long while passed and Qi Hao made no sound. Puzzled, Tian Lingsu stole a glance up at him and saw his eyes full of joy, his face wreathed in smiles, an indescribably blissful look about him.

The two gazed at each other for a long time, and then suddenly opened their arms and embraced.

The moonlight shone cold, spilling over them, spilling into that grove—yet it could not reach the dark corner.

How long they lingered there, no one could say. The pair murmured their tender secrets until Qi Hao glanced at the sky and saw that the moon had passed its zenith in the east. Only then did he say: "Ling'er, it's late. We should go back—if we were discovered, it would not do at all."

Tian Lingsu thought it over and nodded. They looked at each other, then suddenly both smiled; all that needed saying was said in silence. Qi Hao took Tian Lingsu's hand, and they walked slowly toward the Rainbow Bridge, a pair of mandarin ducks in the moonlight, pressed close together, until at last they vanished upon the bridge.

The night had grown a shade more desolate.

In the grove, in the shadows, Zhang Qingyue slowly stepped out. Dazed, he walked to the edge of the jade pool and gazed at the glittering surface, at the cold moon mirrored in the water, bobbing gently with each ripple.

Suddenly he wanted very much to cry.

But in the end, he did not cry. That nameless pain rampaged through his heart like a maddened beast, leaving wounds everywhere within him.

Yet he clenched his jaw and made no sound.

It was as though he had gone back five years, to the time when he had lost everything. Except for Lin Jinghong at his side, the whole world had turned utterly strange.

And tonight, at this hour, he was alone—alone to face it.

"Hrr." A low sound, like the snort of some beast, suddenly rose behind him. Zhang Qingyue started from his tangled emotions and turned. A cold sweat broke out over him at once.

There stood the guardian spirit beast of the Canglan Sect, the vast creature the people reverently called "Lingzun"—the water qilin. It had appeared behind him without a sound, and so close! Its head lowered, its great eyes seemingly pressed right against Zhang Qingyue's body. How a frame so huge could manage such a thing was beyond knowing—or perhaps Zhang Qingyue's heart was so dead within him that he had not noticed.

But now his heart nearly leaped from his chest. The water qilin's body loomed before him like a small mountain, and the long, sharp fangs in its vast bloody maw gleamed in the moonlight. Terrified, he stumbled back several steps, caught his foot, and fell sprawling over a large stone.

His clothes had been disheveled when he came out—he had only thrown on a garment carelessly. Now, as his body swayed, something fell to the ground with a clang.

The sound spread swiftly through that quiet place, echoing over the water.

Zhang Qingyue and the water qilin both looked down at once. There on the ground by the water, between Zhang Qingyue and the qilin, lay a black, unlovely thing—the so-called "Dark Iron Staff"—resting quietly.

In the qilin's great eyes were mirrored Zhang Qingyue's pale face and the ugly staff on the ground. Zhang Qingyue felt his throat go dry; cold sweat poured down him, and in his heart he screamed desperately: "Run, run, run for it!"

But before the water qilin, for all his wild imaginings, his feet seemed no longer his own—they would not move. The qilin, for its part, seemed rather odd: after a glance or two at Zhang Qingyue, its attention appeared wholly caught by the Dark Iron Staff. The huge beast stared fixedly at that black thing, peering at it this way and that, turning its great head from side to side, yet finding nothing. After a moment, as though hesitating, it reached out a forepaw and gingerly nudged the staff.

Zhang Qingyue watched, dumbfounded. Though still frightened out of his wits, curiosity welled up in him as well. Could this "Lingzun" have lived so many thousands of years that it had gone senile? Or was it, like that yellow dog on Dazhu Peak, an elder who refused to act his age, its childlike heart not yet faded—so taken with a mere iron staff?

The qilin's enormous paw touched the staff lightly, then at once withdrew. From its manner, it seemed to regard the staff with considerable wariness; yet the staff merely shifted, rolled a little, and lay there quietly again, still as could be.

Great perplexity showed in the qilin's eyes, but it would not give up. Its vast head swung around, and suddenly it turned to look at Zhang Qingyue, a low, powerful growl rumbling from its bloody maw. Zhang Qingyue's heart gave a violent leap; in an instant every muscle in his body went taut, and he stopped breathing altogether.