劍問蒼天 - 第72章 絕境 - 清風書屋

Panting, Zhang Qingyue looked to the side. Lin Jinghong sat before the bed, his face tense and somewhat gaunt, staring at him. Zhang Qingyue froze for a moment, then looked around: this was a small guest room, plainly furnished, with only an ordinary table, a few chairs, and a wooden bed. He himself was lying on the bed now, a thin quilt covering him.

He lowered his head, steadied himself, and said, "It's nothing. I had a nightmare."

Lin Jinghong watched him, his lips moving slightly, and slowly let go of his hands.

Zhang Qingyue was silent for a moment, then said, "Where are we?"

Lin Jinghong hesitated, then said, "We've left Liubo Mountain. We're now in Changhe City by the Eastern Sea. This is a small inn in Changhe City."

Zhang Qingyue said nothing.

The room suddenly seemed very quiet. After a long while, Lin Jinghong said abruptly, "Xiaofan, is there anything you want to say to me?"

Zhang Qingyue's shoulders seemed to tremble. He raised his eyes to look at him—this childhood companion, now gazing at him so deeply, and yet that look was so unfamiliar.

He lowered his head again and said slowly, "No, Jingyu."

Lin Jinghong's brows knitted tightly. He wanted to say something, but in the end held himself back.

Another silence. Then Zhang Qingyue spoke: "How did we get back?"

Lin Jinghong sighed and said, "That day on Liubo Mountain, after you collapsed, everyone looked at one another, not knowing what to do. In the end my master and Uncle Tian and a few others discussed it and brought you back first. The demon cult seemed to be in some confusion too, and their attention seemed fixed on that monster, so they made no great effort to block us, and we made it back to Changhe City without trouble."

Zhang Qingyue was silent a moment, then said, "How long have I been like this?"

Lin Jinghong said, "Three days now."

Zhang Qingyue fell silent again. Watching him, Lin Jinghong felt a surge of irritation and could not help blurting out, "Xiaofan, what in the world is going on with you? How could you have—"

"Jingyu!" Zhang Qingyue suddenly called out loudly, cutting off Lin Jinghong's question.

Lin Jinghong started and stared at him.

Zhang Qingyue's voice was hoarse. He did not look at Lin Jinghong's expression or eyes, only lowered his head and said softly, "Don't ask. Please don't ask anymore, all right?"

Lin Jinghong gritted his teeth and stood up. He looked at Zhang Qingyue for a long time, then at last turned and walked toward the door; but just as he neared it, he suddenly turned back and said to Zhang Qingyue, "Xiaofan, rest assured—whatever the reason, I believe in you. I will certainly beg my master to speak for you!"

Zhang Qingyue sat on the bed without moving, as though he had not heard. Lin Jinghong glanced at him once more, then resolutely turned and went out. Outside the door there seemed to be people standing; Lin Jinghong exchanged a few words with them in low tones, and then his footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

In the room, all was very quiet.

Who knew how long passed. Zhang Qingyue slowly lifted his head and threw off the quilt. He saw that he was still wearing the clothes he had worn on Liubo Mountain—no one, it seemed, had changed them for him. Unconsciously he reached out toward the head of the bed, but suddenly his hand stopped in midair.

There was nothing there.

The black iron staff that had followed him all these years was nowhere to be seen.

He sat there blankly, his lips trembling slightly.

Suddenly he scrambled off the bed, ran straight to the door of the room, and flung it open.

The two people standing outside turned in astonishment. It was Song Dayi and Du Biyan.

Seeing Zhang Qingyue, their expressions seemed somewhat strange as well. After a moment, Du Biyan gave a dry laugh and said, "Lit—little junior brother, you're awake?"

A shaft of sunlight fell from the sky behind them and shone upon Zhang Qingyue's face. Zhang Qingyue suddenly felt dizzy, and his body swayed.