Chapter 33 — Down the Mountain

Zhang Qingyue swallowed, took up his chopsticks, put a bite in his mouth, and at once closed his eyes and nodded without cease: "Ah, the flesh is wonderful—but the cooking's better still. The sweetness means a little sugar; ginger slices were added to cut the fishiness; mm, there's the fragrance of seared scallion, so fresh scallion heads must have been used; ah, and rarest of all is how well the pepper and five-spice—yes, that's it—and the sesame oil are matched. Marvelous, marvelous!"

His rapt expression left Qi Hao and Zeng Shuyan staring, and even Lu Xueqi looked at him with a strange cast to her face; but the waiter standing by was truly lost in admiration and cried aloud: "The gentleman is a connoisseur indeed—he knows his goods!"

Only then did Zhang Qingyue notice the looks of those around him. He flushed, hastily set down his chopsticks, but could not resist one more question: "If I may ask, waiter, where does this Dream Fish come from?"

Before the waiter could answer, a woman's voice came from a large table next door: "This Dream Fish is a specialty of Mount Zhugou in the southern lands, a thousand li from here—how could it be brought so far? Is this establishment not cheating its guests?" (Note 1)

The others were startled and looked over. At that large table sat eight people: six men in yellow robes, and two women—one in a long pale violet gown, her face veiled in gauze so that her features could not be seen, though the little skin she showed was white as snow; the other was the one who had spoken, a girl of no great age, only sixteen or seventeen by the look of her, in a water-green dress, fair and lovely, with fine brows, snowy skin, and a pair of bright, quick, large eyes that made one's eyes light up; compared with Lu Xueqi she was scarcely a shade behind.

Zhang Qingyue said "Ah," and saw that after speaking, the girl's gaze had fallen on Lu Xueqi at his table, as though she too had been struck by Lu Xueqi's beauty. Women love beauty; even one as cold and frosty as Lu Xueqi could not help but look at the girl a moment longer.

The waiter now smiled apologetically. "The guest speaks truly. But you may not know: a hundred years ago this Dream Fish was indeed found only on Mount Zhugou in the south; later, however, Master Daoyan of the Canglan Sect passed through Mount Zhugou and specially brought the fish back, placing it in the Hong River north of Canglan Mountain. By now it has not only lived but flourished, and we all owe our good fortune in this delicacy to Immortal Daoyan of Canglan Mountain!" As he spoke, his face took on a look of the deepest reverence.

Zhang Qingyue and the other Canglan Sect disciples were of course pleased, and smiled; but the young girl, hearing this, turned and exchanged a look with the gauze-veiled woman, then sat back—though she gave a little snort.

After the savory dinner, Zhang Qingyue and the others returned well satisfied to their rooms. At the gate of the western court Qi Hao said to them: "Rest here tonight, all of you. Tomorrow morning early, we set out for Kongsang Mountain."

Zhang Qingyue and Zeng Shuyan answered; Lu Xueqi said not a word but walked straight to her room and shut the door with a "bang." Qi Hao was taken aback, gave the two of them a wry smile, and said: "Junior Brothers, rest early as well."

Zhang Qingyue looked once at his handsome face—in the light of the setting sun Qi Hao's bearing was in no way diminished from before, but rather had gained a touch of otherworldly grace—and suddenly felt his spirits sink, his energy fail him. He barely managed a word to Zeng Shuyan, and, ignoring Qi Hao altogether, went off to his own room.

Zeng Shuyan chuckled, exchanged a few jests with Qi Hao, and the two also parted for their rooms.

That night was the first in five years that Zhang Qingyue had left Canglan Mountain, and he tossed and turned, and for some reason could not sleep well all night. Toward midnight he at last dozed off, and abruptly dreamed that he stood covered in blood and filth, his face hideous, amid a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, while from the depths of his heart surged an unspeakable, fevered lust to kill, as though the red blood before him were sweet spring water, drawing him, luring him, so that he could not keep himself from wanting to seize it all through slaughter.

"Ah!"

Zhang Qingyue woke with a start and sat bolt upright, gasping, drenched in sweat; a long while passed before his pounding heart slowly quieted.

He sat blankly in the dark for some time, and by chance reached out and touched the Dark Iron Staff laid by his pillow; a chill enveloped him. The dream was much like the nightmares that had plagued him ceaselessly these years—the scene of becoming another person, that blood-devouring fiend in the dream, filled even him with dread.

No sound anywhere; all around, pitch black.

He crossed his legs and sat upright in the darkness, breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and pressed his palms together before him.

The darkness was like a gentle woman, softly twining about his body. A faint golden light seeped from him, now visible, now gone; lit by that thin radiance, Zhang Qingyue's face seemed cloaked in a solemnity that should not have been his.

He did not know how much time had passed before the golden radiance slowly dispersed. Zhang Qingyue opened his eyes in the darkness, his heart at peace. At moments like this, he especially missed that kindly monk, Puzhao.

Sleep would not return. He walked to the door, opened it, and stepped outside. The neighboring rooms were all pitch-dark; Qi Hao and the others must have been asleep. The rear garden of the Shanhai Court was laid out within a garden proper, with four courtyards built to the east, south, west, and north. Zhang Qingyue left the West Court where he lodged and came to the garden at the center.

It was deep in the night. He looked up at the vault of heaven, thick with stars, a full moon hanging at the edge of the sky. A gentle night wind blew, faintly carrying a trace of fragrance. The path wound, secluded and deep, leading on toward some nameless place ahead. Along its edges, green grass and shrubs and flowers of every hue bloomed on all sides.

A wave of wistfulness came over Zhang Qingyue, and he followed the path onward. The breeze brushed his face, bringing a thread of coolness.

On such a quiet night, a youth walked alone through the secluded garden, turning over memories of the past.

Beside the path, a small flower trembled in the night wind, crystalline dewdrops clinging to its pale pink petals, exquisite and translucent. Zhang Qingyue halted, and before he knew it he stood staring, utterly entranced.

A faint, secluded sweetness drifted stealthily to him.

Suddenly a slender, jade-white hand, as though reaching out from eternal darkness, bearing a share of quiet beauty, printed with the moonlight and starlight of the sky, stretched toward the flower.

And plucked it!

In that instant a thunderclap sounded in Zhang Qingyue's head; it was as though all the moonlight in the heavens had lost its luster, and the whole garden was plunged into darkness.

He turned his head and looked, carrying with him an inexplicable resentment.

A young girl in water-green robes stood there, as though she had drawn all the radiance of the sky to herself, and gently lifted the blossom to her nose and breathed in deeply.

Note 1: Classic of Mountains and Seas, Book of Mountains, Volume Four, Mount Zhugou: "Going south by water another five hundred li, one comes to Mount Zhugou. It has no grass or trees, and much sand and stone. This mountain is a hundred li broad, and abounds in sleeping fish."