Chapter 25 — The Unexpected

Su Wan nodded. She seemed about to say more when suddenly bells and cauldrons rang out together—the matches had officially begun. Tian Buhui and Su Wan exchanged a glance and nodded. He said: "You all know where your matches are, I trust; it was written clearly enough on that red list. Once the matches begin, your mistress and I will also come down to watch you fight. Don't make us lose face."

All answered together. Tian Buhui nodded, and he and Su Wan walked off, talking in low voices. Tian Lingsu, who had come along with them, glanced around, then walked toward Zhang Qingyue. Zhang Qingyue's heart suddenly began to pound.

When she reached him, Tian Lingsu looked him straight in the eye, then suddenly burst out laughing. She turned back to the others and said with a smile: "Look how nervous Xiaofan is—there's sweat on his forehead."

Everyone laughed. Song Dayi laughed too: "I tried to comfort the little junior brother just now, but it seems to have done no good. It'll have to be you, little junior sister."

Tian Lingsu spat at him, then turned to Zhang Qingyue: "Xiaofan, I have a match soon too, so I can't go cheer for you. You must do your best—and be careful in everything!"

Zhang Qingyue looked at her beautiful face, so close at hand, her breath sweet as orchid, a faint delicate fragrance seeming to reach him. He could not help the surge of feeling in his heart; he nodded vigorously, yet somehow could not get a single word out.

Tian Lingsu plainly did not think too much of it. She smiled at Zhang Qingyue, then went over and chatted a few words with her senior brothers. After a moment the group broke up by twos and threes—those with matches heading for the platforms, those without going to cheer for their fellow disciples. Yet no one at all thought to go with Zhang Qingyue. Perhaps everyone believed he was a man with no hope whatsoever.

Zhang Qingyue stood where he was, watching his senior brothers walk far away, and a feeling he could not name suddenly rose in his heart. Slowly he walked to the red list and read it over once more, carefully.

He and that Zhaoyang Peak disciple Chu Yuhong had been assigned to the farthest platform of all: the Zhen position.

Zhang Qingyue gave a bitter laugh and walked on. All along the way, countless Qingyun disciples hurried to and fro, chatting and laughing. Listening as he walked, Zhang Qingyue found that most of them were discussing the results of yesterday's matches. In yesterday's contests, the several favorites everyone acknowledged had all won easily. Among them, quite a few mentioned that the Long Peak line, apart from Qi Hao, seemed to have produced another young expert; from their few words of description, Zhang Qingyue guessed it was most likely Lin Jinghong. But more people talked about Lu Xueqi of Xiaozhu Peak. That beautiful woman who possessed the divine sword Tianxuan—that her cultivation ran deeper than expected was one thing, but yesterday, before the eyes of the crowd, she had deliberately shattered her opponent's immortal sword, and this seemed to have left many quite displeased. Yet it only made more people want to watch her matches; her popularity had risen rather than fallen. Beyond that, the long-lost Tianxuan drew even more attention—who knew how many wished to see this treasure from the great war between righteous and demonic a thousand years ago, and even some of the Canglan Sect's elders were no exception.

Walking and listening, Zhang Qingyue could not help recalling the icy beauty Lu Xueqi as she had looked yesterday, and shook his head. Just then a shout suddenly came from ahead: "Xiaofan!"

The voice sounded very familiar. Zhang Qingyue looked up, and at once broke into a smile: Lin Jinghong was striding over. Zhang Qingyue went to meet him and laughed: "I was wondering why I couldn't find you anywhere—so you'd gotten all the way over here!"

Lin Jinghong pointed behind him: "I have a match today too, on the Kan platform, so of course I had to come early to get ready." With that he looked Zhang Qingyue up and down and smiled: "It's your turn today too, isn't it? Which platform?"

Zhang Qingyue said: "I'm on the Zhen platform. It's about to start, so I can't go cheer for you. Be careful."

Lin Jinghong laughed: "You too. Eh—how is it none of your senior brothers or elders came to watch you?"

Zhang Qingyue was taken aback for a moment, then forced a smile: "You know as well as I do that our line has few people, and there are so many fighting today. Master and Mistress have gone to watch Senior Brother and Senior Sister's matches."

Lin Jinghong looked at him, sighed, and patted his shoulder.

Zhang Qingyue pulled himself together and smiled: "It doesn't matter. I only came to look on anyway. But you'd better do your best—don't let people say that folk from our Liumiao Village are good for nothing."

Lin Jinghong nodded firmly. He was about to say something when a bell and cauldron sounded behind him. He turned to look, then said: "My match is about to begin. I won't talk with you any longer—later, if there's time, I'll come over at once to watch you."

Zhang Qingyue nodded: "Go on, hurry."

Lin Jinghong turned and left. Zhang Qingyue watched his back recede and said silently to himself: "If you can make it over in time, and I'm still holding on up on that platform—now that would be strange indeed."

Mocking himself thus in his heart, he slowly walked to the edge of the Zhen platform. This was the easternmost edge of the sea-of-clouds square; a single glance showed him only a dozen or so Qingyun disciples, most of them likely from Zhaoyang Peak. Compared with Lu Xueqi's Qian platform in the center, it was like heaven and earth. Beneath the platform stood a single chair, and in it sat a white-bearded old man. Zhang Qingyue glanced at him and felt he looked somewhat familiar; after a moment's thought he recalled that this was the elder who, yesterday morning before Lu Xueqi's match, had stood outside the crowd cursing the disciples for lechery and grumbling that female disciples should never have been admitted. He only did not know which line of the Canglan Sect the man belonged to.

In the great trial of the seven peaks there were eight platforms in all. As a rule, the Canglan Sect would station at least one elder at each platform; otherwise, with young disciples hot-blooded and carried away in the heat of battle, things would be hard to control.

Zhang Qingyue walked over, came before the white-bearded old man, bowed, and said: "Uncle-Master, I am Zhang Qingyue, a disciple of Dazhu Peak. I am to fight on the Zhen platform today."

The white-bearded old man turned his head, glanced at Zhang Qingyue, and said carelessly: "Oh, you're here. It's about to start. Get up on the platform."

Zhang Qingyue answered, glanced at the platform, and saw it was empty—it seemed that Zhaoyang Peak disciple Chu Yuhong had not yet arrived. He hesitated, then finally obeyed the white-bearded old man's word and climbed the steps onto the platform. At the same time, among the Zhaoyang Peak disciples below behind him, a stir of whispering broke out at once—plainly they were talking about him.

By now the morning sun had risen. The first ray of sunlight over Jietian Peak fell quietly upon him, carrying a touch of warmth. Zhang Qingyue stood on the platform and looked toward the eastern sky, where a newly risen sun was slowly climbing, ruddy and round, its light soft and not dazzling, dyeing the clouds and mist at the far horizon red.

A swell of feeling suddenly rose in Zhang Qingyue's heart. Five years ago he had been a village boy who knew nothing of the world, who had never dreamed there would be a day when he stood atop Jietian Peak to watch the sunrise. No—it was not that he had never dreamed of it; it was that he had simply never known such a beautiful sunrise could exist in this world.

In the blink of an eye, a life drifts vast and faint as white clouds.