Chapter 8 — The Beginning
劍問蒼天 · Page 5 of 5
In the darkness, Zhang Qingyue gave a low cry, flipped over, and sat up, gasping for breath. Just now he had dreamed of returning to Liumiao Village, of seeing his parents again, seeing all his childhood playmates, and the other uncles and aunts—all joyful together. But suddenly they had all become corpses, rivers of blood flowing everywhere—a horror beyond words. He gave a whole-body shudder and woke with a start.
He sat on the bed for a long while, his breathing gradually calming, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. The window stood slightly ajar, and a shaft of pale moonlight slanted in, spilling across the blue-brick floor like frost and snow.
Zhang Qingyue had lost all desire for sleep. He scrambled up, went to the door, and with a creak pulled it open and stepped outside.
All around was silent. From somewhere unseen came the faint chirping of insects—one note, two notes, low and intimate. Moonlight like water poured over him.
He lifted his head to the sky and saw stars scattered thickly, the moon riding at its zenith, bright and clear.
"I wonder how Jingyu is doing now. Is he lying awake too?" he murmured, then sighed and was about to turn back inside, when suddenly his chest felt lighter and something rolled out from the small garment worn against his skin, falling to the ground.
Zhang Qingyue started, bent down, and picked it up. It was that dark purple, lusterless round bead, with a tiny hole through its middle—clearly the one Puzhao had strung onto the jade prayer beads that day. In the upheaval of recent days he had long since forgotten this thing; only now did he recall that Puzhao had told him to throw the bead away.
At that thought, a sudden ache rose in his heart. His parents had left him nothing; Puzhao's connection with him had been brief, yet that one night together had made them like kin—and this ugly little bead was the only thing Puzhao had left him.
Zhang Qingyue raised his hand and held the bead up into the air, against the moonlight, framed by its clear radiance, and saw that the bead's color had actually grown a shade lighter, turning a pale purple, semi-transparent, and within it he could faintly make out a wisp of pale blue qi spinning ceaselessly, as though it had a spirit of its own and wished to break through its shell. Yet each time the blue qi drew near the bead's surface, a tiny "卐" character would light up at that spot and drive it back.
Zhang Qingyue gazed at it for a long while, and unbidden a certain fondness for it rose in his heart; then he thought that this was the only thing Puzhao had left behind, and he truly could not bear to throw it away. After thinking it over for a long time, he untied a red cord from around his neck—the one his father and mother had tied on him to safeguard his life and keep him safe and sound. Most families would hang a gold plaque or a silver lock, but his family was poor, so a single red cord had to serve in their place.
There and then he threaded the bead onto the red cord, tied it fast, and hung it at his chest against his bare skin; it was not cold at all—rather, it carried a certain warmth. He smiled to himself, then lifted his head to look at the bright moon in the sky, turned, and walked back into the room to sleep again.
And so his first day at the Canglan Sect came to an end.