Chapter 154 — The Old Dwelling
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 6
Xiao Yichen smiled and nodded, but then glanced around and said with some surprise, "Uncle Tian, why is it so quiet here? Where are your other junior brothers? I don't see a single one."
Tian Buhui thought to himself, "If you could see them, that would be a fine ghost story; heaven knows where they've all hidden themselves." But on the surface he was as composed as could be, and said mildly, "They are all at their studies, and so have not come out. This place of mine is not like your Jietian Peak, teeming with people; it is quite usual not to see a soul."
Xiao Yichen paused, catching a note of displeasure in Tian Buhui's tone, but he was a man of considerable depth and put on a look as though he had noticed nothing at all, smiling as he said, "Ah, I see. Uncle Tian, I have come today on my master's orders to pay you a visit; there are a few questions he wished me to put to you."
Tian Buhui frowned, taken aback. "Ask me? Ask me what? Senior Brother Daoyan is a scholar of heaven-deep learning, his attainments vast beyond mortal reckoning. What could he possibly have to ask of a worthless junior brother like me?"
Xiao Yichen smiled faintly and said nothing, only looked at Tian Buhui. Tian Buhui took the hint. "Then let us talk inside." He turned to go into the Shoujing Hall, Xiao Yichen following behind him. Suddenly Tian Buhui halted and whipped his head around, staring toward the disciples' quarters.
Xiao Yichen found it strange and looked that way too, but saw nothing. "What is it, Uncle Tian?" he asked.
Tian Buhui hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing. My eyes deceived me. How could he possibly..." He coughed once and said mildly, "Let us go in and talk."
Xiao Yichen was baffled, and could not help glancing that way again. But he saw only rows upon rows of houses in neat array, silent and still, looking utterly ordinary. He thought no more of it and followed Tian Buhui into the Shoujing Hall.
Once the two figures had vanished into the Shoujing Hall, a hush fell over the summit of Dazhu Peak once more. How long passed, none could say, when suddenly a shadow flickered on the walkway by the disciples' quarters. It was none other than Ming Li. He gazed silently for a moment toward the Shoujing Hall, then turned and walked slowly inward along the corridor he had once known so well.
Perhaps because it was the afternoon hour, no other disciples of Dazhu Peak were anywhere to be seen. In memory, what had most often been heard here in the old days, besides the clear laughter of little junior sister Tian Lingsu, was Du Biyan's slightly crestfallen shouting, for he must have lost another wager. Then the hearty laughter of eldest senior brother Song Dayi and the others would ring out, and the other senior brothers would join in the teasing, and that youngest and most inconspicuous little disciple, surely he too must have been smiling knowingly in some corner.
Once upon a time, the days gone by turned gently over amid the slow rhythm of his footsteps, and those old matters seemed carved into every brick and tile, every pillar and stone, every terrace and hall, echoing all around him.
Ming Li's face, wooden at first, slowly changed. The frozen mask that had once cloaked his features quietly receded. So the past had been so moving after all; even after all these years he still could not forget it.
If only, if only... if only nothing had ever changed...
He stood in the corridor bathed in that pale sunlight and slowly sat down on the low railing. The warm, gentle sunlight of Dazhu Peak fell upon his face, as though it were ten years ago.
...
Footsteps and voices came from behind, far off, drawing nearer. It was He Dachuan, fourth disciple of Dazhu Peak, and Du Biyan, the sixth, walking side by side toward this place. At the very moment their figures appeared, Ming Li had already vanished like a ghost. The mountain wind blew, and the branches and grasses swayed together; no one could have told where he was hidden.