Chapter 8 — The Beginning
劍問蒼天 · Page 4 of 5
Du Biyan said, "What kind of talk is that? Am I the sort who can't tell right from wrong, loyal from treacherous? What I promised you, I naturally must do—otherwise I'd leave myself open to ridicule and be laughed at by all our senior brothers for nothing."
Zhang Qingyue nodded, though he still did not quite understand what this had to do with telling right from wrong or loyal from treacherous.
Song Dayi took Zhang Qingyue's hand and said, "Little junior brother, come, I'll take you to your new room."
The two walked out of the kitchen. The sky had gone dark, and a bright moon was slowly rising, hanging in the eastern sky. They passed the entrance of Shoujing Hall, and Zhang Qingyue looked inside: all lamps were out, pitch-black, with only moonlight spilling across the hall's front—it had a rather eerie feel.
After walking a while longer, they returned to the covered corridor where the disciples lived. Song Dayi brought him to the last room on the right and said, "Little junior brother, the room where you woke this morning is the one I live in. The other junior brothers live in order from there, all on the right side. Those seven rooms on the left are empty." He paused, looked at Zhang Qingyue, and said, "Living all alone—are you afraid?"
Zhang Qingyue shook his head.
Song Dayi smiled slightly. "That's the way. How can we men be afraid of being alone? Come, let's go in." And with that he led Zhang Qingyue inside.
Zhang Qingyue looked at this place, unfamiliar now but destined to be his long companion: a small courtyard with a green pine on the left and five or six tall, slender bamboos on the right, two or three men high. A little path of small cobblestones ran through the yard, grass on either side, and as the night wind blew, the leaves and bamboo branches swayed gently and a faint, fresh scent of grass drifted over—very quiet and pure.
Song Dayi opened the door, went in, and lit the lamp. "Little junior brother, come in."
Zhang Qingyue stepped inside and saw that the furnishings were as simple and plain as Song Dayi's room—a table, chairs, a bed, and nothing else of note.
Song Dayi said, "I cleaned this place up a bit today, so you can stay here for now. Life in the mountains is austere, and you're young—you may feel lonely. But we who cultivate the Way are meant to endure all kinds of trials. From now on, you'll have to see to your own daily needs."
Zhang Qingyue said, "I understand, eldest senior brother."
Song Dayi nodded, glanced around, and said, "Well then, if there's nothing else, I'll be going. You've had a tiring day—go to bed early."
Zhang Qingyue answered, saw his eldest senior brother to the door, and then suddenly thought of something. "Eldest senior brother, it's only just gotten dark—why haven't any of the senior brothers come out for a walk?"
Song Dayi laughed. "You don't know. Even the youngest of us has been studying the Way on Dazhu Peak for decades. We rarely get out on ordinary days, and we know this peak so well we're sick of it, so no one bothers to stroll about. Old Four loves to read, Old Two loves to hum tunes, and the diligent ones like Old Three cultivate in their rooms. Generally no one comes out."
Only then did Zhang Qingyue understand. Song Dayi smiled and ruffled his hair, gave him a couple more reminders, and turned to go.
Zhang Qingyue returned to his room and shut the door, and in that instant it seemed the whole world had suddenly gone still, without a single human sound. He walked silently to the table and sat there blankly for a while. With nothing to do, he blew out the lamp, took off his outer robe, and lay down on the bed. He tossed and turned, and before he knew how long it had been, he drifted into a hazy sleep.
"Ah!"