A Night Meeting in the Wild Bamboo Grove
The spring night deepened, and the wild air had turned cold.
About ten miles southwest of Mount Hua lay a desolate bamboo grove, backed by the mountain and bordering a ravine. Few people ever came there in ordinary times. At night, when the wind passed through, the bamboo leaves rubbed softly against one another with a dry rustling sound, uncannily like people whispering in the dark. Moonlight showed and vanished by turns, leaking through the gaps in the bamboo and painting broken patches of cold white across the ground. There was no path in the grove, and yet several figures slipped in through the bamboo, rising and falling without a sound, as though a gust of night wind had merely brushed past and stirred the shadows.
In the clearing at the heart of the grove, two people had arrived first.
One older, one younger.
The older man was in his forties. He was thin, with deep-set eyes and a face cut hard as though by a knife. His expression was stern and cold, and standing beneath the bamboo, he looked like an old stalk that refused to bend. His green robe had been washed nearly white, yet there was nothing slovenly about him. Instead, he carried an austere sharpness that was difficult to describe.
This was Feng Wuhen, first among the Hidden Bamboo Four and Sect Master of the Hidden Bamboo Sect.
The youth standing behind him was around seventeen or eighteen. His features were straight and proper, his expression calm, and a short staff was slung diagonally across his back. His clothes were the same blue-green commonly worn by the Hidden Bamboo Sect. Yet the keenness of youth had not been fully hidden away. Between his brows and in his eyes lingered a stubborn refusal to yield.
This was Feng Chengyun, disciple of Feng Wuhen.
Master and disciple stood in the grove without speaking first. The night wind brushed past, the bamboo tops whispered softly, and the silence only deepened until it seemed one could almost hear the beating of one's own heart.
A few days earlier, Feng Feiyun had secretly delivered a slip of paper to Fang Stronghold at Feng Wuying's instruction.
On that slip were only two short lines:
An old acquaintance is not dead. His trail follows the water. If you would know the truth, search Jiangnan with great care.
Who the "old acquaintance" referred to—Fang Stronghold naturally understood. Mount Hua naturally understood as well.
Fang Tieshan had been missing for eleven years, and the martial world had never ceased investigating. But over the years, the clues had always come in scattered fragments. One day they pointed westward, the next they broke off in the Central Plains, as though someone had deliberately dragged, twisted, and smeared the trail so that its true shape could never be grasped. And yet there was one thread that had always remained like a poisoned thorn, impossible to go around.
Feng Wuji.
And the young man who had traveled with him back then, the one calling himself Yuwen Wushe.
That night of fire in the wasteland had not gone wholly unseen. Fang Renxiao, chief steward of Fang Stronghold, and Yuanqingzi of Mount Hua had not witnessed Fang Tieshan fall into the trap with their own eyes, but they had been the last two to see him leave in the company of Feng Wuji and the youth calling himself Yuwen Wushe. The three of them had continued westward together, and from that day on, Fang Tieshan had vanished without return. Thus both Fang Stronghold and Mount Hua knew that his disappearance could not be separated from Feng Wuji and that self-proclaimed Yuwen Wushe.
When word of that spread, the martial world was shaken.
Not because Fang Tieshan's martial skill had been high, but because the man himself had carried too much weight. Whether as Sect Leader of Mount Hua or lord of Fang Stronghold, beyond those titles he still owed drinks to countless men and was remembered with gratitude by countless others. When such a man simply vanished—alive, no one could find him; dead, no body was ever seen—Mount Hua would investigate, Shandong would investigate, and those in the martial world who had once received his kindness or remembered his loyalty would investigate as well.
Yet none of them had found anything.
As Feng Wuhen thought of all this, the severity in his face only deepened.
But what he hated most was not those four words—no results from the search.
What he hated was Feng Wuji.
He hated that man for sinking so low, for colluding with the Crimson Flame Palace and bringing shame upon the sect. He hated him for shielding his disciple Feng Tengyun all these years, both openly and in secret, and allowing that beast to go ever further down a filthy road. Most of all, he hated that though Feng Wuji had come from the Hidden Bamboo Sect, he had used every skill of bamboo-shadow lightness and hidden movement learned there for deeds that could not bear the light.
In Feng Wuhen's eyes, Feng Wuji was no longer a fellow disciple of the same sect, only a rotten signboard caked in mud yet still hanging the three words Hidden Bamboo Sect.
A moment later, two very faint sounds suddenly came from outside the grove, the whisper of bodies skimming over the ground.
Feng Chengyun turned sharply.
Two figures broke through the bamboo one after the other. The one in front was tall and lean, dressed in blue, with his hair loose over his shoulders. His steps looked casual, yet with each footfall he had already shifted through three positions. It was clearly the footwork of Sweeping Moon Shadow, one of the Hidden Bamboo Sect's signature techniques. The younger one behind him moved like a wild monkey darting out of the mountains. He landed on a slanting bamboo trunk, made the tip tremble only once, and then flipped down, his eyes dancing and his expression bright with mischief.
The newcomers were Feng Wuying and his disciple Feng Feiyun.
Feng Wuhen fixed his gaze on Feng Wuying's face and said coldly, "Fourth Brother, you finally decided to come."
After coming to a stop, Feng Wuying swept a glance first over Feng Wuhen and then over Feng Chengyun before giving a faint smile. "If Eldest Brother has questions to ask, how could I dare not come?"
Feng Wuhen did not answer. His eyes had already shifted to Feng Feiyun.
The boy was only around fourteen. He had not yet fully grown tall, but his face was already vivid and quick, and though his clothes were old, there was something untamed in his bearing. Standing behind his master, he first clasped his fists toward Feng Wuhen.
"Uncle Feng," he said.
Then he bared his teeth in a grin at Feng Chengyun.
"Brother Chengyun."
Feng Chengyun gave a quiet grunt in reply, but his face was far from relaxed.
He and Feng Feiyun had known each other since childhood. Though they were not under the same master, they had rolled through the bamboo groves together too many times to count. But over the past year or two, the undercurrents within and beyond the sect had grown heavier and heavier. Even boys like them could feel that something was slowly tightening.
Feng Wuhen spoke to his disciple without looking at him. "Chengyun."
Understanding at once, Feng Chengyun lowered his voice. "Master, I've checked the surroundings. No one followed."
Only then did Feng Wuhen look back at Feng Feiyun. "The note was delivered?"
Feng Feiyun nodded. "It was. As Master instructed, I didn't enter Fang Stronghold. I only left the slip beneath a stone outside and departed. When their men came after me, I circled the barren trees and slipped down the bamboo slope to the north. They couldn't catch me."
Feng Wuhen looked at him closely. "Did anyone see your face?"
"No." Feng Feiyun shook his head. "I kept it covered the whole way and showed only my eyes. The ones chasing me had heavy steps. They couldn't follow into the bamboo shadows."
At the side, Feng Wuying smiled faintly. "Eldest Brother can rest easy. This disciple of mine may not amount to much in other things, but delivering a message and throwing off a tail are not beyond him."
The coldness in Feng Wuhen's eyes did not lessen. "Sending the note was only the first step. If it stirs people who ought not to be stirred, the trouble afterward will only multiply."
Feng Wuying took no offense. He only lifted his head to glance at the moon above. "And if those words had not been sent, Madam Fang would still be waiting in bitter hope in Shandong. If Fang Tieshan is truly still alive, then someone ought to begin moving at last."
At that, Feng Wuhen's gaze sharpened at once.
"You say truly still alive." His voice slowed. "What exactly have you uncovered over these years?"
For a moment, the bamboo grove fell silent.
The careless smile on Feng Wuying's face slowly faded.
He walked to the middle of the clearing and drew a line in the dirt with the tip of his boot.
"Brother Fang met with disaster in Henan back then," he said. "If the Crimson Flame Palace had acted alone, then according to their usual methods, they would either have silenced him on the spot, or taken him north and west into their own territory. But the more I followed the trail over these years, the more wrong it felt."
He drew a second line in the earth, slanting south.
"The first wrong thing was this: the man did not go west. He went south."
Feng Chengyun frowned. "South?"
"Exactly." Feng Wuying nodded. "The first trail broke off south of Bianliang. Later I traced a few widely scattered fragments further down and found that if Fang Tieshan truly was taken away, the route looked less like a road by land than a route by water."
Feng Wuhen's voice turned heavy. "Are you certain?"
Feng Wuying answered lightly, "I wouldn't dare claim certainty, but I'd stake seven or eight parts out of ten on it. Wheel tracks can be faked. Horseshoes can be changed. But the mud that clings to a man's soles when he travels by the water's edge is not the same as the dust of every official road. Later on, at several ferry crossings, docks, and shipping stations, I picked up some dirty traces."
Feng Chengyun could not help asking, "Whose line were they?"
Feng Wuying lifted his eyes. "The Four Seas Gang."
Feng Chengyun's face changed at once.
Even in Feng Wuhen's eyes, a faint flicker of surprise passed.
The Four Seas Gang was entrenched around Taihu Lake. They controlled waterways and docks, and across the ferry crossings, shipping houses, and hidden inns of Jiangnan, their eyes and ears were everywhere. If someone wished to move a living man by water and erase the trail so cleanly, it would have been nearly impossible to do without touching them somehow.
More importantly still, Qin Gang, the gang's leader—Invincible Iron Courage—was a name in the martial world as famous as Fang Tieshan's own.
Before his disappearance, Fang Tieshan had praised Qin Gang more than once in public, saying, "His courage is as hard as iron. Men of both the light and dark roads respect him. He is one of the very few true men to be found upon the water."
Feng Wuhen was silent for a while before saying, "Qin Gang and Fang Tieshan were old acquaintances."
"I know." Feng Wuying nodded. "That is why I didn't believe it at first either. But once the trail reached Taihu Lake, it simply would not go around the Four Seas Gang. Either someone inside the gang had used old ties to do a favor, or someone had worked on their ground using their eyes and ears. One way or another, they cannot be entirely separated from it."
With his hands clasped behind his back, Feng Wuhen stared at the two lines Feng Wuying had drawn in the dirt and did not speak for a long time.
The night wind passed, and the bamboo sighed.
Feng Feiyun spoke up next. "Later, after following the gang's men and boats, Master traced the trail as far as Poyang Lake. There's a lakeside manor there that's very strange. Not many people go in or out, but the kinds of people who do are all mixed."
Feng Wuhen turned to him. "What manor?"
Feng Feiyun glanced at Feng Wuying. Seeing that his master did not stop him, he continued, "We only learned the name later. It's called Biyue Manor. The manor lord is a widow, known in the martial world as Madam Biyue. But we still haven't uncovered the full truth. All we know is that the place looks clean on the surface, though underneath it may be anything but."
Feng Wuying added slowly, "In these past few years, I have crossed the same shadow twice. Once it pointed toward Biyue Manor on Poyang Lake. The other time, it pointed toward the Prince of Ning's Manor."
Feng Chengyun blurted out, "The Prince of Ning's Manor?"
At last Feng Wuhen's face darkened completely.
He stared at Feng Wuying and said each word separately, "That is precisely why I called you here today."
Feng Wuying lifted a brow. "If Eldest Brother has something to say, then say it."
Feng Wuhen replied coldly, "Over the past month, Bai Liancheng has claimed illness and closed his doors to the outside, and his whereabouts are unclear. Yet there are rumors in the martial world that you have gone in and out of the Prince of Ning's Manor several times. First you swore brotherhood with Bai Liancheng, and later you drew close to the Prince of Ning's Manor. Now you say Fang Tieshan's disappearance is connected to the Prince of Ning's line. Tell me plainly, Fourth Brother—are you investigating Fang Tieshan, or are you doing another man's work for him?"
The moment the question fell, the bamboo grove went deathly still.
Feng Feiyun had been half crouched off to one side, but at those words even he slowly straightened. Feng Chengyun, meanwhile, found himself holding his breath without meaning to.
Feng Wuying stood beneath the moon. After a long pause, he suddenly smiled.
But this time, the smile was very thin.
"Eldest Brother asks well," he said slowly. "As for Brother Bai, I truly did trust him a few parts at first. You know well enough that my friendship with him is not one of a day or two. But the more I've watched over these years, the more I've come to feel that man keeps too much hidden in his heart. As for the Prince of Ning's Manor—"
Here he paused. The last trace of laughter left his eyes.
"If I had not gone there, some clues would never have surfaced. But I did not go to do the Prince of Ning's work, and even less did I go to do Brother Bai's. I only want to know who moved Brother Fang all the way from Henan to Jiangnan back then, and who possessed such power that a living man could be made to vanish like a stone sunk beneath the water, never seeing daylight for more than ten years."
Feng Wuhen stared at him. His expression remained cold, but his voice dropped lower still.
"And what of that beast Feng Wuji?"
Feng Wuying lifted his head to look at him.
Feng Wuhen's gaze had turned grim and cutting, as though anger buried for years had finally forced its way upward.
"All these years, every trail that has been followed circles back to him. That man colluded with the Crimson Flame Palace, fouled his own conduct, and allowed Feng Tengyun to commit one filthy deed after another, trampling the name of the Hidden Bamboo Sect into the dirt. If Fang Tieshan truly was moved south by water, then Feng Wuji must have been part of the scheme."
Feng Chengyun clenched his jaw and said in a low voice, "Master, Feng Tengyun's name in the world these past two years... has been completely ruined."
Feng Wuhen replied coldly, "What is Feng Tengyun? Nothing but a thing that learned corruption in its vilest form. The one truly deserving of hatred is Feng Wuji. Without Feng Wuji shielding him, indulging him, and leading him onward, how could Feng Tengyun ever have become what he is now?"
The wind through the grove tightened.
Feng Wuying did not answer that directly. He only said in a low voice, "Feng Wuji's movements are even harder to pin down now than before. I followed him twice and lost the trail both times. But one thing I can say with certainty—he is still working for someone, and the work is no small matter."
Slowly, Feng Wuhen closed his eyes.
"Do you truly believe Fang Tieshan is still alive?"
Feng Wuying said, "I wouldn't wager my head on it. But if he had died long ago, no one would still be taking such pains to hide where he was taken. The more carefully the trail is concealed, the more it suggests the man is still there."
After that, no one in the grove spoke for some time.
Fang Tieshan.
That Fang Tieshan who once laughed in wine shops so loudly the whole room turned to look. That Fang Tieshan who had drunk, boxed, cursed heaven and earth with Feng Wuying. That Fang Tieshan who later took command of Mount Hua and became renowned throughout the martial world as the Dragoncloud Divine Hand. If he truly still lived, then where in the world was he now?
Only after a long time did Feng Wuhen open his eyes again.
"Since the note has been delivered, Mount Hua will most likely begin to move soon. You are to continue your investigation, but remember one thing—do not sink too deeply into Bai Liancheng or the Prince of Ning's Manor. If you keep stepping further into that muddy water, then one wrong move one day may mean that not even I will be able to protect you, much less the Hidden Bamboo Sect."
Feng Wuying only smiled faintly at that, neither agreeing nor arguing.
Seeing this, a sharp light rose once more in Feng Wuhen's eyes, but in the end he did not press further. He turned instead to Feng Chengyun.
"We're leaving."
Feng Chengyun answered and, before going, could not help glancing back once at Feng Feiyun.
Feng Feiyun arched a brow at him and made a face, just as he always had.
But both boys knew that this parting would likely not be like the old days, when they might separate after training and drinking and meet again in the bamboo grove the next day.
Feng Wuhen and Feng Chengyun turned and departed, their figures quickly swallowed by the shadows of the bamboo.
When only master and disciple remained, Feng Feiyun lowered his voice. "Master, does Uncle Feng already no longer trust you?"
Feng Wuying lifted his head toward the moon. After a while, he said, "It isn't that he doesn't trust me. It's that he doesn't dare believe this trail can be clean."
Feng Feiyun thought it over, then asked, "So are we still going to investigate?"
Feng Wuying looked down at him. For once, there was visible weariness in his eyes.
"Yes," he said. "If Brother Fang is truly still alive, then someone has to drag him back up from beneath the water."
Moonlight fell quietly across his face, illuminating every trace of weathering there. Looking at his master, Feng Feiyun felt for the first time that the face which usually seemed to carry three parts careless laughter had grown as heavy as stone.
"Come," Feng Wuying said. "Mount Hua should soon begin to move as well."
The moon shone on the bamboo leaves, and the forest shadows broke and swayed like a cold river flowing soundlessly through the night.
Deliberations in Supreme Clarity Palace
The next morning, the clouds above Mount Hua were thin and the wind was clear.
Inside Supreme Clarity Palace, incense smoke curled upward. Pine shadows slanted across the green brick floor beyond the windows, half bright, half dark. Seated in the hall were the people who truly upheld Mount Hua in its present age.
Shenzang Sanren sat at the head. His beard and brows were white, his face lean, yet his eyes still held a quiet steadiness. Xi Wence sat in his wheelchair, blue robe and plain cloak upon him, his expression darker by several degrees than it had been two days before. Zhen E sat to the left, still dressed in plain clothes. The bloodshot red had not yet left her eyes, but her hand rested steadily on her knee without the least sign of panic.
On the lower right sat one more man. His gray Daoist robe was old but clean, and a longsword slanted across his back. It was Yuanqingzi.
Below them stood Zheng Chong, Xuanyuan Xi, and Ji Sheng.
For a time, no one spoke.
At last it was Shenzang Sanren who began.
"I have read the note. Whether it is true or false remains unclear, but we cannot choose not to investigate."
Zhen E drew in a light breath and said quietly, "Martial Uncle Shenzang, I ask only for clarity. If it is false, then I will give up hope. If it is true, I cannot let him remain hidden from daylight like this forever."
Shenzang Sanren nodded. His voice was calm. "It has not been easy for you to hold on until now. Since this thread has at last shown itself, Mount Hua will certainly not stand by with folded arms."
Before Xi Wence spoke, Yuanqingzi said slowly, "On that night in the wasteland years ago, Steward Fang and I were the last to see my junior brother, the Sect Leader. I could not mistake Feng Wuji's face. And the more I think back on that youth who called himself 'Yuwen Wushe,' the more wrong he seems."
Zheng Chong raised his head toward him. "Martial Uncle Yuanqing, what was wrong?"
Yuanqingzi answered in a deep voice, "If he had truly been a dispossessed young master hunted all the way by the Crimson Flame Palace, his bearing would not have been so steady, nor his eyes so cold. Every word he spoke sounded plausible, yet the man himself was too composed. I had already had my doubts that night, but my junior brother, the Sect Leader, thought of Feng Wuying and the old hatred with the Crimson Flame Palace, and so he decided to escort them in person for part of the road."
At those words, Zhen E's fingers tightened slightly, but outwardly she said nothing.
Xi Wence continued, "And that is exactly why this matter cannot be treated as nothing more than a note of uncertain origin."
He rubbed the paper lightly between his fingers inside his sleeve and went on, "If the trail follows the water, then what must be investigated is not merely one man, but an entire water route. Jiangnan's waterways crisscross everywhere. If someone truly used them to hide a living man, then the trail cannot avoid Taihu Lake, and cannot avoid the Four Seas Gang."
At this, Zheng Chong's brows moved.
Of course he knew the name of the Four Seas Gang. It was the greatest gang in Jiangnan, entrenched around Taihu Lake, rich in both men and money, with power over boats and routes. If an ordinary man of the martial world heard the three words Four Seas Gang, he would likely think first of bustle, wealth, and splendor, not of Fang Tieshan's old case.
At the side, Ji Sheng said quietly, "Gang Leader Qin and Martial Uncle Fang were old acquaintances."
"Precisely because of that," Xi Wence replied, "we must go and see with our own eyes."
He paused, then let his gaze settle on Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi.
"In one month's time, Qin Gang, leader of the Four Seas Gang, will celebrate his fiftieth birthday. Mount Hua may have been badly weakened over these years, but it cannot neglect proper courtesy. The two of you will go in Mount Hua's name."
Zheng Chong immediately clasped his fists. "This disciple accepts the order."
Xuanyuan Xi likewise bowed. "This disciple accepts the order."
Xi Wence looked at the two of them and continued, "This journey has three purposes. On the surface, you are going to offer birthday congratulations in Mount Hua's name. Beneath that, first, you will sound out the Four Seas Gang's water routes; second, you will investigate Martial Brother Fang's old case. If Gang Leader Qin is truly clean, then this trip will do no more than establish good relations. But if there is something hidden beneath it all, you are to probe the air first and not startle the snake in the grass."
Shenzang Sanren stroked his beard. "There is also Qin Gang's daughter, Qin Xin. Over the past two years she has built quite a name for herself in Jiangnan. They say the girl is very beautiful, quick-witted as well, and though she is still young, people have already begun calling her the Pearl of Jiangnan. The Four Seas Gang is in a position of growing strength. If this visit allows Mount Hua to draw one step closer to them, which would not be a bad thing for the sect."
At that, Zheng Chong remained as he was, but Xuanyuan Xi showed the slightest start before lowering his eyes and saying nothing.
Xi Wence's expression remained calm, as though he did not treat the matter as any special affair of sons and daughters. He only said flatly, "This may be observed if the opportunity presents itself. There is no need to force anything."
Zhen E listened from the side without speaking.
She knew well enough that Mount Hua was no longer the Mount Hua of the old days. If it could form one layer of goodwill with the Four Seas Gang, there would be no harm in it, whether publicly or privately. But the one matter weighing in her heart remained the same: was Tieshan alive, or was he not?
Yuanqingzi suddenly spoke again. "If the Sect Leader truly remains alive after all, and the other side has been able to conceal him for eleven years without the slightest exposure, then what lies behind it cannot be the Crimson Flame Palace alone. The Four Seas Gang, the waterways, the great powers of Jiangnan—these may all be only surface threads. Zheng Chong, Nephew Xi, when you go, you may look, but you must not crash headlong into anything."
Xi Wence nodded. "That is exactly my meaning."
Then he turned to Zheng Chong. "You will take Xi down the mountain. All the way there, offering birthday congratulations comes first, tracing the line second. If you encounter people you ought not to touch, you are not to act rashly."
Zheng Chong accepted the instruction solemnly.
At the side, Ji Sheng felt increasingly itchy as he listened, and at last he could not resist saying, "Martial Uncle, the Sect Leader—let me go too?"
Xi Wence glanced at him. "You stay."
"What?" Ji Sheng's face fell at once.
At the side, Shenzang Sanren smiled faintly. "Your feet are too quick, and your mouth is too quick too. If we truly sent you, then before you even reached Taihu Lake, half of Jiangnan would already know what Mount Hua meant to investigate."
Several in the hall could not help laughing.
Even on Zhen E's face, the faintest trace of a smile finally appeared.
But once the smile passed, the heaviness in the hall returned.
Xuanyuan Xi stood there with lowered hands, quietly receiving his orders, his expression as calm as ever. Yet for some reason, as Zhen E looked at the boy, something suddenly stirred in her heart.
If Tieshan had not disappeared back then, then when Yingjie reached fourteen or fifteen—might he perhaps have looked a little like this child standing here?
The thought flashed only once, but it tightened her chest with a small ache.
Xi Wence seemed unwilling to let that heaviness linger too long. He folded the note in his hand and said quietly, "For now, this matter is to be known only by those present in this hall. Yingjie is still too young. He is not to be told."
Zhen E nodded gently.
But she knew as well that though the boy was young, he was not truly foolish. If things truly began to move, how long could they really keep it from him?
Two Youngsters Give Chase
Beyond the mountain gate of Mount Hua, the spring weather was growing warmer.
The day for Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi to descend the mountain was set for three days later.
During those three days, everything seemed outwardly unchanged. Zheng Chong went to the storeroom to check the gift list. Xuanyuan Xi continued his morning lessons, sword practice, and chess games as usual. Xi Wence remained in Supreme Clarity Palace discussing the affairs of the sect with Shenzang Sanren. And yet those on Mount Hua with sharper senses gradually felt a slight difference—as though the mountain wind itself carried a faint smell of coming travel.
Fang Yingjie knew nothing of the words written on the note, nor that Fang Tieshan's old case had begun to stir.
He knew only that Senior Brother Zheng and Brother Xi were going down the mountain to Jiangnan.
For him, the two words Jiangnan held more attraction than any Daoist classic or any sword form. It was a place written of in books, a place of great rivers, misty rain, fishing lights, painted pleasure boats, and bustling docks. It was also the direction his father had once taken and from which he had never returned.
Once that thought began to grow inside him, it sprang up like spring grass after rain and could not be pressed down.
Xi Qian learned of the matter before he did.
At first she had merely overheard, by accident, a few phrases outside her father's room—"Gang Leader Qin's fiftieth birthday," "heading to Jiangnan," "Qin Xin." At first she thought it no more than an ordinary visit of congratulations. But the more she thought about it, the more wrong it seemed. Combined with the weight in her father's expression lately and Madam Fang's sudden arrival on the mountain, she began to suspect that this descent was not simply a matter of going to Taihu Lake to drink wine and eat birthday noodles.
At dusk, she ran into Fang Yingjie on a stone path behind the mountain and saw that he looked absent-minded enough to have lost his soul.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked. "Did your soul get left at the mountain gate?"
Fang Yingjie glanced right and left, then lowered his voice. "Senior Sister, I'm telling you this, but don't tell anyone else."
Xi Qian snorted. "And why should I keep your secret for you?"
"Because..." Fang Yingjie thought hard, then answered with complete seriousness, "Because you're the best."
Xi Qian had been trying to keep a straight face, but those words broke her first. The corner of her mouth twitched upward before she hurriedly pressed it down again.
"Enough nonsense. Say it."
Fang Yingjie leaned in closer and whispered, "Brother Xi and Senior Brother Zheng are going down the mountain to Jiangnan."
"That much I know," Xi Qian replied. Then she froze, staring at him. "You don't mean to say..."
Fang Yingjie's eyes blazed with light. He nodded hard. "I'm going with them."
Xi Qian hardly needed to think. "Then I'm going too."
After speaking, both of them stared at each other, equally startled.
"You're going too?" Fang Yingjie asked.
"What, only you're allowed to go?" Xi Qian lifted her chin. "If you go down the mountain alone, you won't make it ten li before someone sells you off. If I don't go with you, who's going to keep an eye on you?"
Fang Yingjie felt that was utterly unreasonable. But after a second thought, it did seem true that he would not have much confidence sneaking down the mountain alone. At once his indignation turned to delight.
"Good! Then we'll go together."
Xi Qian had meant to make him plead a little longer, but the moment she thought of Jiangnan, of the world beyond the mountain, and of being able to go down with Brother Xi, all her hesitation flew away. She only lowered her voice and said, "But let's be clear—we're not running around wildly. We're following them in secret. If anything really happens, we'll still have to rely on Senior Brother Zheng and... and Brother Xi."
Her last words were spoken very softly, but Fang Yingjie was already too busy planning where to climb out the next night to hear clearly. He only nodded over and over.
And so, just like that, the two of them settled the matter.
On the day of departure, Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi went down the mountain before dawn. Carrying Mount Hua's gift boxes, they rode by the main road. Fang Yingjie and Xi Qian changed into the clothes of young Daoist novices and did not slip out through the small eastern gate until midmorning. One carried a little bundle on his back; the other had dry rations tucked inside her robe. Together they followed the narrow path behind the mountain and hurried south in pursuit.
Though Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi had departed on horseback first, they were carrying birthday gifts and could not gallop at full speed. Besides, on the surface this trip was a formal visit from Mount Hua to the Four Seas Gang, not a desperate ride for their lives, so they traveled steadily south along the official road without haste. Fang Yingjie and Xi Qian were different. Since childhood they had run wild all over Mount Hua, and they knew the narrow shortcuts used by herb gatherers, woodcutters, and young temple attendants even better than the main road. Those mountain paths were narrow, but they cut across several of the great bends around the mountain. If the two of them gritted their teeth and pushed hard, it was not impossible that they might yet intercept the pair ahead.
Spring paths in the mountains were narrow, wet with dew, and slippery over stone.
Fang Yingjie's stamina was never strong to begin with, yet this time no one could say where his strength came from. He clenched his teeth and followed all the way, refusing even to stop for breath. Xi Qian, though a girl, was far lighter and swifter on her feet, and every so often had to pause to wait for him.
First they cut diagonally down from the rear slope, then crossed a stretch of broken rock, then passed through a stand of pines, avoiding the longest detour of the official road and making straight for the fork at the mountain foot that led toward Huayin Ferry. Fang Yingjie ran until his chest burned, nearly slipping and falling several times, yet every time he gritted his teeth, hauled himself up, and refused to slow even half a step. Xi Qian scolded him for forcing himself too hard, but all the while kept her own pace in check so that he would not fall too far behind. By the afternoon, after more than twenty li of such hard going, they had truly managed to bring the strip of official road ahead back into view.
The mountain path curved past a thin grove, and suddenly a few horses whinnied from the front.
Xi Qian immediately caught hold of Fang Yingjie. The two crouched together and peered through the grass and trees.
At the edge of the slope stood a tea stall.
Beside it were tethered two horses.
They belonged to Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi.
Apparently the two had not hurried much along the way and had only stopped there to rest the horses, water them, and ask after the road, which was what had allowed the children to catch up at last.
The pair seemed to be asking the owner of the tea stall for directions. Zheng Chong even lifted a hand and gestured in the air, as though inquiring after the nearest road to Huayin Ferry. Xuanyuan Xi stood beside him, the pale blue robe on his back stirring lightly in the mountain wind. Even from behind, he carried a tranquility that seemed oddly out of place amid a mountain road and a crude tea stall.
Xi Qian had run hard enough to grow hot all over, yet the instant she saw that figure, her heart unexpectedly settled.
Fang Yingjie, however, had no attention left for looking at people. He whispered excitedly, "We caught up, we caught up!"
Xi Qian hurriedly clapped a hand over his mouth. "Keep your voice down!"
Fang Yingjie blinked, signaling that he understood.
And then, from the tree above their heads, someone suddenly gave a soft, curious eh?
The sound came so close it seemed almost right beside their ears.
Fang Yingjie jumped in fright and looked up at once.
On the bent old pine above them, there was somehow already a boy crouching there. He wore a half-worn blue robe, with the tip of one foot hooked around a branch and both arms wrapped around his knees. He was looking down at them, his eyes glittering as though he had been holding in laughter for some time.
"I thought some rabbit from the mountains had turned into a spirit," the boy said with a grin. "Turns out it's two little Daoists from Mount Hua, hiding here and tailing people."
Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie both stared.
The boy flipped down from the tree in one easy motion. When he landed, he barely stirred the dust. He brushed at his sleeves as though finding the whole thing enormously entertaining and looked them over from head to foot, smiling all the while.
"One with a face so pale the wind could blow him over," he said, "and one whose mouth keeps acting tough while her eyes drift again and again toward that young gentleman in blue up ahead. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Xi Qian's face turned red at once, and she glared at him. "What nonsense are you talking about?"
The boy laughed and ignored her. Turning to Fang Yingjie instead, he arched a brow.
"So the little young master from Mount Hua wants to venture into the martial world too?"
Fang Yingjie looked at him and felt at once that the boy's features were lively, his expression wild and untamed, and that he was plainly no ordinary traveler of the mountain paths. Yet for some reason he did not dislike him at all. Instead something stirred in his heart, and the question leapt out of his mouth before he could stop it.
"Who are you?"
The boy tucked his hands behind his back, tilted his head, and smiled, showing two very white teeth.
"Me?" he said. "My name is Feng Feiyun. Fei as in the wind passing through bamboo, yun as in clouds flying beyond the mountains. And you? The pale-faced one."
Fang Yingjie was caught off guard by the way he put it and answered almost without thinking.
"I... I'm Fang Yingjie."
"Fang Yingjie?" Feng Feiyun rolled the name once lightly around his tongue, blinked, and grinned. "A bold enough name."
The mountain wind passed through the trees, stirring the pine needles with a soft rustle.
At the tea stall in the distance, Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi seemed to have finished asking directions and were already preparing to lead their horses back onto the road. Here in the shade of the grove, however, three boys and girls of nearly the same age had, in that very moment, collided upon the same road leading down from the mountain.
Poetic Coda
Moonlight lay cold on the bamboo leaves;
Men spoke in whispers of a vanished trail.
One hidden note stirred hearts long left in wait
and drew old shadows south along the water.
The game on Mount Hua had scarcely come to rest
before the breath of Jiangnan touched the air.
Yet truest of all were two young steps at dawn,
carrying spring beyond the mountain gate.
(End of Chapter Three)