Chapter 74 — Two

On Dazhu Peak of the Canglan Mountains.

Zhang Qingyue sat blankly in his room, staring into nothing.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon; soft light poured in through the window and spilled across the bluestone floor. Perhaps because the air itself carried a trace of laziness, the big yellow dog and little grey monkey in the room seemed listless as well.

Big Yellow lay sprawled at Zhang Qingyue's feet, its head buried on its forepaws, eyes half shut, ears drooping; of its whole body, only the glossy-furred tail gave an occasional flick.

And the monkey Little Grey, usually so restless, now leaned against Big Yellow, using its belly as a pillow, eyes closed, sleeping soundly, its body rising and falling faintly with the breathing of Big Yellow's belly.

On this tranquil afternoon, it seemed everything was exactly as it had always been.

Zhang Qingyue's gaze drifted vacantly toward some nameless distance. This was already the third day since his return to the Canglan Mountains.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, the drowsy Big Yellow lifted its head, opened its eyes, and even its ears pricked up.

Zhang Qingyue frowned, and then heard slow footsteps outside the door; a moment later, with a creak, the door was pushed open.

Sunlight flooded in, momentarily blinding; Zhang Qingyue could only see a figure standing in the doorway, bathed in the light.

By the time his eyes had adjusted somewhat, his face went pale at once, for there stood Tian Buhui in the doorway, his face dark as a storm cloud.

This was the first time in three days that Tian Buhui had come to see him, and the first person besides his eldest senior brother Song Dayi, who brought him his meals, that he had seen at all; no doubt everyone else had been forbidden to visit by Tian Buhui's strict order.

By now Big Yellow had already run over, its tail wagging furiously, rubbing back and forth against Tian Buhui's legs in obvious delight. But the other animal, Little Grey, was not so well disposed; roused from a pleasant dream, it looked rather put out, chittering twice—though in the end it knew very well that Tian Buhui was not someone it could afford to provoke, and so did not dare make a nuisance of itself.

After a few cries, Little Grey wobbled back onto Zhang Qingyue's bed, flopped down on the quilt, and went back to sleep.

Tian Buhui bent down, glanced at Big Yellow at his feet, reached out and stroked its head; Big Yellow gave a low bark or two and nuzzled its head against his palm.

Tian Buhui patted the dog's head, straightened up, and looked toward Zhang Qingyue.

Zhang Qingyue did not dare meet his gaze. "Master," he said in a low voice.

Tian Buhui regarded him for a long while without answering, then walked slowly closer; Zhang Qingyue instinctively retreated a step.

But Tian Buhui made no move, only slowly sat down in a chair. Zhang Qingyue felt some fear, but more than that a blank bewilderment, not knowing what to do. In truth, ever since returning to the mountain he had expected to face such a scene, or worse—to face interrogation and reprimand from many more people—and he had long since steeled himself for it.

Yet on this warm, quiet afternoon, when Tian Buhui—whom he had revered all these years as a god—sat silently before him, he could only hang his head low, his mind a perfect blank, unable to utter a single word.

How long passed, he could not say, before he heard Tian Buhui say slowly, "Old Seven."

Zhang Qingyue shuddered and answered almost by reflex, "Yes, Master."

"Is there anything you wish to say to me?"

Zhang Qingyue slowly raised his head and looked at Tian Buhui; Tian Buhui regarded him without expression, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

After a long silence, Zhang Qingyue slowly shook his head.

Tian Buhui stared at this disciple; the hand hidden in his sleeve slowly clenched into a fist.

"Just now," Tian Buhui said slowly, as though only thus could he conceal what he felt, "Qi Hao of Long Peak came this morning with a message. Tomorrow at first light, the sect leader, the Perfected One Daoyan, will see you in the Yuheng Hall on Jietian Peak."

Zhang Qingyue's body trembled. That moment had come at last.

A cool mountain breeze drifted gently in through the open door, as if carrying with it the rustling of that distant bamboo grove; but neither of them in the room felt it.

Little Grey seemed to have fallen asleep again, and Big Yellow lay back down, paying them no more mind; only Tian Buhui still watched this disciple.

Looked at him, deeply, deeply.

"These past few days—have your senior brothers treated you poorly?"

Zhang Qingyue shook his head. "No. My senior brothers have been... good to me."

Tian Buhui said no more, and silence returned to the room.

After a long while, Tian Buhui suddenly let out a long breath, as though he had come to some decision, tossed his head, rose, and walked toward the door without looking back, without a word.

Zhang Qingyue gazed at that familiar back, lost and forlorn.

Just as Tian Buhui was about to step out of the room, he suddenly halted again, still without turning around; Zhang Qingyue called out dazedly, "Master..."

"Old Seven!" Tian Buhui's voice was steady as ever, but behind it something strange seemed to be stirring.

"I will ask you one last time: are you truly a spy sent by another sect to probe our Qingyun secret arts?"

Zhang Qingyue bit his lip and slowly, slowly knelt to him. "Master, I am not. I have done nothing to betray you!"

He spoke in a low voice, to Tian Buhui and, it seemed, to the depths of his own heart as well, speaking with such absolute certainty.

In the sunlight there seemed to be a faint sigh; when Zhang Qingyue raised his head again, that familiar figure had vanished.

Zhang Qingyue stared blankly at the doorway, holding that posture for a long time, before he slowly rose and walked back to sit on the edge of the bed.

The monkey Little Grey was startled awake by his movement, turned its head, saw that it was Zhang Qingyue, and grinned broadly; as though its sleep had restored its spirits and its restlessness, it leaped onto him.

Zhang Qingyue unconsciously gathered it into his arms, but his eyes still rested on the doorway. After a long while, in a voice only he—or perhaps he and Little Grey—could hear, he said softly, "You know, I promised that person long ago: I will not tell, not even if I die... not even if I die..."

Whether Little Grey understood, it clearly did not much care; it reached out a hand and affectionately grabbed at Zhang Qingyue's head.

Zhang Qingyue did not move, letting the monkey do as it pleased, and only said slowly, "There is only you now, Little Grey. Now there is only you left beside me..."

Little Grey chittered twice and laughed as though greatly amused, whether it understood or not. And in the distance, Big Yellow seemed to have fallen asleep again; in its sleep its tail curled quietly in beneath its body.

The sunlight still fell soft and gentle. Outside the door, Du Biyan could not help but open his mouth in a yawn; but a moment later, the faint drowsiness vanished, for he saw Tian Buhui walking slowly out of Zhang Qingyue's quarters.

"Master," Du Biyan called, studying Tian Buhui's face carefully, hoping to read something there; but Tian Buhui's expression was blank, and he only gave a slight nod before walking past him toward the Hall of Guarded Stillness.

Du Biyan stood respectfully to one side; when Tian Buhui had gone some distance, he watched his back and thought of Zhang Qingyue, and could not help but sigh. On Dazhu Peak, no one could ever have imagined that such a thing would happen to this ordinarily unremarkable junior brother.

At this moment, even he—usually so lively and restless—could not muster much spirit, and in his heart he felt a faint, vague worry for Zhang Qingyue.

How long he stood lost in thought, he did not know, until a voice came from behind him: "Sixth Senior Brother."