Chapter 47 — The Scholar
劍問蒼天 · Page 3 of 6
After a night in the wild hills, Zhang Qingyue came out onto the official road. The road grew broad, and people gradually grew more numerous. He asked travelers along the way for directions and set his course north.
At noon one day, with the sun directly overhead and the heat fierce, Zhang Qingyue had walked half a day and was quite parched. He saw a small tea stall by the roadside, pitched beneath a great tree. Five or six customers were already seated inside. Seeing the shade, he walked over, bought a bowl of tea, and sat down to rest.
And indeed, the tea at that little stall was surprisingly cool and refreshing. Zhang Qingyue drank one bowl and felt at once eased from head to foot, as though the day were no longer so hot. He began to think: the injury to his hand was now much better; in the afternoon he would find a quiet place where no one was about and fly back through the air. That would be faster, and he would see his master sooner.
As he thought, his thoughts naturally turned to seeing his senior sister Tian Lingsu soon, and he could not help feeling a warmth in his heart. Just then he heard a mild voice from the side of the road: "Master, a bowl of tea for me."
A rare breeze passed at noon, swaying the leaves of the great tree so that flecks of sunlight filtered down and scattered on the ground. The tea-stall keeper, a man who looked to be past fifty, answered and bent to pour tea. Zhang Qingyue's gaze drifted over, and then he could not draw it back.
It was a middle-aged scholar, with fine brows and a square face. His features seemed refined and gentle, yet his eyes were bright and piercing and his brow full. Within that refinement there was a power that was stern without being angry. He wore a Confucian robe, and at his waist hung a pale purple jade pendant, exquisite and translucent, faintly breathing an air of auspiciousness — plainly no common thing.
Zhang Qingyue looked for a good while, then suddenly realized that he had been overawed by this scholar's bearing. He felt that as soon as the man walked in, the five or six customers who had been drinking tea — himself included — had all fallen silent and been pressed down by his presence.
Zhang Qingyue withdrew his gaze, but inwardly he marveled, and at the same time was greatly taken with the scholar's bearing. Though the man was no great beauty to look at, this air that came from within was truly rare.
The scholar entered the stall, took the tea the keeper handed him, sat down where he pleased, and began to sip it slowly. The customers who had been chatting and laughing all fell silent, one after another, until the atmosphere in the stall grew quiet and rather strange. Only the middle-aged scholar remained wholly at ease, unaware of anything around him, drinking his tea and resting alone.
After a while the other customers, either rested enough or finished with their tea, paid one by one and left. The keeper came to clear the bowls, and beneath the great tree there remained only Zhang Qingyue and the middle-aged scholar.
Zhang Qingyue did not feel particularly ill at ease, but after sitting a while longer he judged that he had rested enough and was thinking of paying and going, when suddenly a voice sounded behind him:
"Young brother."
Zhang Qingyue started. The voice was mild and familiar. He turned and saw the scholar smiling at him gently. Surprised, he said, "Sir, are you speaking to me?"
The scholar nodded with a smile. "Indeed." He rose and came over slowly. Zhang Qingyue stood as well, and when the man drew near, he cupped his hands and said, "May I ask what business you have with me, sir?"
The middle-aged scholar looked him up and down. "Nothing in particular. Only the road is lonely, and you look agreeable to me. I thought I would come over for a few words. You do not mind, young brother?"
Zhang Qingyue shook his head quickly. "Not at all. Please sit, sir."
The scholar nodded with a smile. "Come, young brother, sit as well."