Chapter 47 — The Scholar
劍問蒼天 · Page 1 of 6
When Zhang Qingyue awoke, the sky had already gone fully dark. He must have slept five or six hours at the least, yet Bili had still not woken. Her hands were clenched tightly in his clothing, and she looked like a frightened, timid child — who would ever guess that she was in truth a person of consequence in the demon cult!
Zhang Qingyue put his hands behind his head and listened to the rustling of the mountain wind through the trees. Suddenly he thought of the bamboo groves on Dazhu Peak of Mount Canglan — did they not make this very same sound?
All this time I have been missing beneath the Wanfu Ancient Cave. Word must have reached Dazhu Peak by now. I wonder if Senior Sister Ling'er was sad to hear it? But if I suddenly appeared before her, she would surely be overjoyed — she would seize my hand, wild with delight, and scold me through her laughter: You little wretch, I knew you would not die so easily!
In the deepening dark of night, a smile rose on his face. Even his eyes were bright in that darkness. Yet he did not see that beside him another pair of bright eyes had, at some unknowable hour, begun to watch him in the gloom.
Day broke again, and birdsong rose among the hills, clear and sweet.
Zhang Qingyue walked to the little stream, cupped his hands, and splashed water on his face; the coolness sank straight to the bottom of his heart. He examined his left hand and unwound the bandage. The broken bone had mended almost completely. Delighted, he took the dark iron staff bound to his hand, thrust it through his belt, and worked his left hand vigorously. Sure enough, there was nothing much wrong with it.
"Is your hand better?" Bili came up behind him, glanced at him, then crouched to wash her face in the stream.
"Yes," Zhang Qingyue said cheerfully. "Nothing much wrong now. It doesn't hurt at all."
Bili wiped the water from her face with her sleeve and said, "Don't go moving it about carelessly. When sinews and bones are hurt, you need a good long rest before they mend."
"I know." Zhang Qingyue answered offhandedly, then looked at Bili. He hesitated a moment before speaking. "Miss Bili, by great fortune we have kept our lives and escaped from the belly of that mountain. You and I might be said — might be said to have become friends. But after all, those on different paths cannot take counsel together. Let us part here today."
Bili stayed crouched by the water and did not rise, but her body seemed to give a little shudder. Zhang Qingyue could not see her face. After a while he heard her say, in a low voice, "Oh. Different paths, is it?"
Zhang Qingyue nodded. "Yes. I am of the orthodox way, and you are of the demon cult. From childhood my masters have taught me that right and evil cannot stand together. If we meet again, I fear we shall be enemies, not friends. You looked after me and saved me in the belly of that mountain, and I am truly grateful. Should fate allow, I will one day repay that kindness."
Bili stared blankly at the dim, blurred figure reflected in the clear water and murmured, "Repay me?"
Zhang Qingyue answered, "Yes. I keep kindness and grievance distinct. Had you not saved me, I could never have lived. If there is ever a place where I can be of service, I will serve." Here he suddenly felt this was not quite proper and hastily added, "But you must not ask me to do anything that betrays my sect or my principles."
Bili suddenly stood and turned around. "I see you have some ability," she said. "Why not come over to our Holy Cult? I will recommend you to my father. He has always loved talent, and he would certainly put you to good use — better than being a nameless cook on Dazhu Peak."
Zhang Qingyue's face darkened at once. "Miss Bili, do not speak so wildly. I am of the orthodox way. I would sooner die than enter the demon path. In my eyes, being a humble cook on Dazhu Peak is far better than summoning wind and rain among your demon cult."