劍問蒼天 - 第9章 傳藝 - 翰墨軒

Tian Lingsu said, "I mean, hardly that few. Hmm, let me count. I think he was already here when Fourth Senior Brother arrived—that makes seventy years. No, wait—Third Senior Brother said he was here when he came too, so that makes ninety-seven years. Ah!" She suddenly cried out, startling Zhang Qingyue, who hurriedly asked, "What is it?"

Tian Lingsu said gleefully, "I remember now! Once, when I was little, Mother and Father had a quarrel, and she said something cruel—that she was going to slaughter that yellow dog Father had raised from a pup and stew him into dog soup. Father was beside himself with fury, and Dahuang was so frightened he didn't dare come home for days!"

Zhang Qingyue was astonished. "Dahuang didn't dare come home?"

Tian Lingsu said, "That's right. Dahuang has lived so many, many years that he understands human nature. He knew my mother was a force to be reckoned with, and feared he really might fall foul of her, so he made himself scarce. Well? Formidable, isn't he?"

"Formidable!" Zhang Qingyue said with feeling—whether of Dahuang or of his mistress's methods, he could not say. He stole another couple of glances at the big yellow dog, but Dahuang paid him no mind at all: he snorted, wagged his tail at his own leisure, turned his head aside, and flopped lazily onto the ground.

By now the two had reached the edge of the bamboo grove. Zhang Qingyue said to Tian Lingsu, "Senior sister, when I first arrived on Jietian Peak, I saw a great beast many times bigger than Dahuang. Senior Brother said it was called the 'Water Qilin.' Is Dahuang a spirit beast like that?"

Tian Lingsu stepped into the grove and shook her head. "No. The Venerable Spirit is an ancient, primeval creature, a spirit of the primal wilds, far beyond Dahuang. There's no comparison."

As she spoke, she led Zhang Qingyue weaving through the grove. After a while they came to a place where the slender bamboos grew thick, the black-joint bamboo here mostly only as thick as a wrist, fine and delicate.

"This is the place. For the next three months, cut one stalk a day, and that will do," Tian Lingsu said with perfect seriousness.

"A stalk this thin—just one?" Zhang Qingyue asked, surprised.

Tian Lingsu snorted. "Try cutting one and see."

Zhang Qingyue nodded, picked up his billhook, and walked to a slender stalk. He sized it up and down, then swung. There was a sharp crack—and the billhook struck as if against stubborn stone, numbing his palm. The stalk, struck, leaned forward, then sprang back a moment later. Zhang Qingyue couldn't dodge in time; a bamboo branch lashed him hard on the head, leaving a red welt and a smarting pain.

"Giggle..." Tian Lingsu bent double laughing. It was a while before she managed, with difficulty, "You cut here. I'm off to do my own chores." And with that she turned, still laughing, and left.

Zhang Qingyue rubbed the sore spot on his head. Where the bamboo had been struck, there was only a faint white mark. He drew in a breath of cold air. That morning, alone before that stalk of black-joint bamboo, he hacked and chopped, sawed and ground, pressed and bent, sparing no method; but when two hours had passed and the sun stood halfway up the sky, drenched in sweat, arms and legs aching and weak, he had managed to gouge out only a tiny notch, two fen deep.

Then a snatch of song drifted over: Tian Lingsu, humming some tune or other, came skipping back. Seeing his bedraggled state and then the stalk of black-joint bamboo, she shook her head, raised her billhook, and made as if to cut.

Zhang Qingyue said quickly, "Senior sister, what are you doing?"

Tian Lingsu said impatiently, "Helping you cut it."

Zhang Qingyue shook his head hard and panted, "No need. Thank you, senior sister. But this is my chore. I'll finish it myself."

Tian Lingsu snorted and pointed at the sun. "Do you know what time it is?"

Zhang Qingyue was stubborn by nature. He gritted his teeth. "Even if I have to cut till dark, I'll—"