劍問蒼天 - 第11章 幽谷 - 翰墨軒

Zhang Qingyue pulled a face at the monkey, paid it no further mind, and walked off, thinking that a monkey who took pleasure in pelting people was a rare sight indeed — a truly witless beast. He had taken two steps when the wind hissed behind his ear; he could not dodge in time. "Thup" — a hard pinecone caught him on the back of the head. The blow was no light one; Zhang Qingyue's vision went black and he could not help crying out.

The monkey was clapping its hands and laughing on its branch, rocking to and fro in great glee. Zhang Qingyue's anger flared; he rushed over and shook the stalk with all his might. The great black-jointed bamboo swayed wildly left and right, but the gray monkey only wrapped its tail about the trunk and let itself be swung this way and that, utterly unafraid, chattering "tsk-tsk-tsk" without pause.

Unable to get the better of the monkey, Zhang Qingyue grew angrier still. He drew his knife and hacked furiously at the bamboo. The monkey was not frightened in the least; it merely watched him from its perch with great interest.

Zhang Qingyue hacked until his head ran with sweat, and at last had cut seven or eight parts through; success was close at hand when a shriek came from the bamboo above. He looked up: the gray monkey's tail gave a flick, its body flew up, and it leaped to another black-jointed stalk nearby; then with a "pat" it flung down yet another pinecone.

Zhang Qingyue was furious. Not caring whether the monkey understood him or not, he pointed at it and shouted, "Come down here if you've got the guts!"

The gray monkey scratched its head and cocked its face to one side, thinking hard for a long while. It had probably not grasped what guts had to do with anything; it simply burst out laughing and made a great show of grimacing at Zhang Qingyue.

Zhang Qingyue was half mad with vexation and wholly without remedy. That day he barely managed to finish his quota of work, but his head had taken seven or eight blows from the monkey and throbbed without mercy.

Seething, Zhang Qingyue went bitterly down the mountain and gave the monkey no further thought. But the monkey had grown addicted to the sport. Morning after morning it waited in the grove, and whenever Zhang Qingyue came to cut bamboo it took its pleasure in pelting him, and was mightily pleased to see him fume.

One evening before supper, Tian Lingsu drew Zhang Qingyue aside and asked him quietly, "Xiaofan, what's happened to your head?"

For days the gray monkey had been tormenting him, and his head was lumped black and blue and sore all over; but he felt it a disgrace to have been made sport of by a monkey, so he had told no one. Now that his senior sister asked, he hesitated, and at last told her the whole of it.

Tian Lingsu pursed her red lips and could not help laughing aloud; two small dimples appeared at the corners of her cheeks, and she was truly dazzling in her prettiness. Zhang Qingyue felt himself being teased — or felt something else besides; a warmth rose inexplicably to his face and he lowered his head.

Tian Lingsu clapped him on the shoulder with frank good fellowship and said, "Don't worry, little junior brother. These days Mother keeps me in the Taiji Grotto practicing more, getting ready for the Seven Lineages Martial Contest two years from now — and to think I left you to be bullied by a monkey. Don't fret. Tomorrow I'll go up the mountain with you and teach that wicked monkey a lesson."

Her tone was that of a seasoned elder, with a touch of coaxing a child about it, but Zhang Qingyue had grown used to hearing it since he was small; he gave a wry smile and thought nothing of it.

The next morning Tian Lingsu was up betimes as promised, and went with Zhang Qingyue up the rear mountain.