Zhang Fan ascended the mountain and came to the bamboo grove he knew so well. Before him stretched a world of lush green, layer upon layer, tier upon tier across the slopes. Wherever the mountain wind swept through, the vast sea of bamboo swelled and rippled like the surging waves of an ocean—a sight of breathtaking grandeur. His heart lifted at once, the tightness in his chest dissolving away.
He drew a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, loosened his limbs, and walked into the bamboo grove with his woodcutting knife in hand. The place he headed for now was no longer where he had first come three years ago — it was the deepest heart of the grove, where great bamboo towered in dense ranks, their stalks far harder than any he had worked before.
A thin morning mist drifted through the forest like gossamer veils, while along both sides of the path, crystalline dewdrops clung to the green bamboo leaves — beautiful and translucent.
After walking for a while, he found himself amid an ocean of green. The black-jointed bamboo here mostly grew tall and dense, their leafy boughs thrusting straight into the sky, while light filtered down through the gaps in the branches and leaves, casting patch after patch of shadow across the ground. Zhang Fan looked left and right, selected a thick stalk of black-jointed bamboo, sized it up with a sweep of his arm, then raised his blade to strike.
A dull thud rang out, and Zhang Fan felt a sharp pain flare across his forehead — something had struck him squarely there. He looked down to see a pine cone rolling across the ground. All around him, ahead and to either side, grew black-jointed bamboo; bamboo shoots there were aplenty, but pine cones — those were absolutely nowhere to be found.
He thought for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked around and called out, "Senior Sister, is that you?"
His voice carried far through the bamboo grove, yet no answer came for a long while. Zhang Fan knew his senior martial sister had always been mischievous and fond of playing pranks. He was about to call out again when a sharp pain suddenly struck his forehead—another pine cone had hit him squarely, the impact excruciating. From somewhere above his head came a shrill chorus of chittering cries.
Zhang Fan endured the pain and looked up, only to see a grey-furred monkey clinging to the black-jointed bamboo—he had no idea when it had climbed there. The creature clutched a few pine cones in its hands, its tail hooked upside-down around a bamboo branch, shrieking "chi-chi-chi-chi" in a shrill voice, looking every bit as though it was reveling in his misfortune.
Zhang Fan was momentarily stunned. In the three years he had spent here, he had never once seen a monkey in the bamboo grove. Grand Bamboo Peak was almost entirely blanketed in bamboo, with only a small wild grove of pines and cypresses deep in a shadowed valley on the mountain's northern face. It seemed that was where this monkey made its home — yet today, for reasons unknown, it had somehow wandered up the mountain.
Great Bamboo Peak rose tall and sheer—though not every peak climbed above the clouds, this one thrust straight into a sea of them. To ascend from the foot of the mountain was nearly impossible on foot, and so the disciples of Qingyun Sect came and went mostly by riding the air. Zhang Fan's cultivation was shallow, and apart from chopping bamboo each day, he had on occasion heard his senior brothers speak of it: deep in a ravine behind Great Bamboo Peak, pine and cypress mingled with wild trees into a dense forest, gloomy and fathomless, rarely touched by human feet. In years past, some among the founding masters of the Great Bamboo Peak lineage had even ridden their swords down into that ravine to investigate, but found only primordial forest with nothing particularly strange—save for an abundance of fierce beasts and venomous insects, which nonetheless never ventured out of the valley. And so, over the years, an untroubled peace had held between them.
He was still lost in thought when he suddenly caught the monkey lifting its hand. His heart lurched; he scrambled aside at once—and sure enough, another pinecone came crashing down. Had he not dodged, he would have caught it squarely again.
The gray monkey, seeing him dodge aside, let out two sharp cries, its face twisted with indignation — as though it were reproaching Zhang Fan for having the nerve to evade at all.
Zhang Fan pulled a face at the monkey and walked away, giving it no further thought. *A monkey that takes pleasure in pelting people—quite the novelty,* he told himself. *Truly an ignorant beast.* He had taken only two steps when he suddenly heard a rush of wind at his ear. Before he could dodge, *thwack*—the back of his head was struck again by a hard pine cone. The blow was no light matter; Zhang Fan's vision went dark for an instant, and he couldn't help but cry out.
The monkey clapped its hands on the bamboo branch and burst into laughter, swaying back and forth in great delight. Zhang Fan's fury surged within him. He charged forward and shook the bamboo with all his might—a great black-jointed stalk thrashing wildly from side to side—yet the grey monkey simply coiled its tail around the trunk and let itself be tossed about, utterly unafraid. If anything, it laughed all the harder, chattering on and on without stop.
Zhang Fan found he could do nothing about the monkey, and his fury only deepened. He drew his woodcutting knife and hacked savagely at the bamboo. The monkey showed not the slightest fear, merely perching on the stalks and watching him with keen interest.
Zhang Fan hacked away until sweat soaked his brow. After great effort he had cut nearly seven or eight tenths through, and success seemed just within reach — when a sharp cry suddenly rang out from the bamboo above. He looked up to find the gray monkey flick its tail, launch itself into the air, and leap clear onto another black-jointed bamboo stalk nearby, whereupon it let out a shriek and hurled another pine cone down at him.
Zhang Fan flew into a rage. Not caring whether the monkey could understand him or not, he pointed at it and shouted, "If you've got any guts, come down here!"
Grey Monkey scratched his head and tilted it to one side, mulling it over for a good while—and still probably hadn't the faintest idea what "having guts" or "not having guts" was supposed to mean. He simply burst out laughing and pulled a string of exaggerated faces at Zhang Fan.
Zhang Fan was driven half mad with rage by it, yet was utterly helpless. That day he barely managed to finish his lessons, though his head had been struck seven or eight times by that monkey, leaving him in considerable pain.
Zhang Fan descended the mountain in a fury, refusing to spare the monkey another thought. But the monkey had developed a taste for the game. For several mornings in a row it lay in wait among the bamboo, and the moment Zhang Fan came to cut bamboo it pelted him with glee, delighting in the sight of his rage.
※※※
That evening, before dinner, Tian Ling'er pulled Zhang Fan aside and whispered, "Fan, what happened to your head?"
Zhang Fan had been tormented by that gray monkey for days on end, his head covered in bruises—blue patches here, purple patches there—the pain relentless. He had felt too ashamed to tell anyone that he'd been made a fool of by a mere monkey, and so he had kept it to himself. But now, hearing his senior sister ask, he hesitated for a moment before finally telling her everything.
Tian Ling'er's red lips curved into a pout, and she couldn't help but break into laughter, two dimples appearing at her cheeks — she was truly breathtaking. Zhang Fan, as if he had been made the butt of her joke, or perhaps for some other reason he couldn't name, felt an inexplicable warmth rise to his face and dropped his gaze to the ground.
Tian Ling'er gave Zhang Fan a casual slap on the shoulder. "Junior Brother, the masters have been telling me to spend more time in the Taiji Cave training, all to prepare for the 'Seven Veins Martial Meet' two years from now. I never expected you'd end up being bullied by some monkey in the meantime. Don't worry—I'll go up the mountain with you tomorrow and teach that rotten monkey a lesson."
Her tone was staid and world-weary, carrying more than a hint of someone coaxing a child; yet Zhang Fan had long since grown used to it, and simply gave a wry smile and let it pass.
The next morning, Tian Ling'er woke up early as expected and headed up the back mountain together with Zhang Fan.
A cool breeze drifted gently down from the mountains. Tian Ling'er wore a flowing red dress — exactly as she had looked the first time she and Zhang Fan had climbed these slopes to cut bamboo — bouncing and skipping along the path ahead. Zhang Fan followed a few steps behind, watching the beautiful girl in front of him, her figure like a wisp of red cloud drifting softly through the hills. With each gust of mountain wind, a faint, delicate fragrance seemed to carry back to him.
His heart drifted into a momentary daze, and unbidden came the thought — how wonderful it would be to simply go on walking like this, forever.
He was still lost in thought when Tian Ling'er had already walked far ahead. She turned back and called out loudly, "Fan, why are you so slow!"
Zhang Fan jolted back to his senses, his face flushing red. Not daring to dwell on it any further, he quickly picked up his pace and hurried after her.
The two of them arrived before the bamboo grove. Tian Ling'er said to Zhang Fan, "Fan, you go in alone first. I'll follow behind."
Zhang Fan nodded, took the chopper, and walked in. After a few steps, he suddenly remembered he had meant to say a word of caution to Tian Ling'er. He turned to look back — but she was already gone.
He stood there for a moment, a vague and inexplicable sense of loss washing over him for no reason at all. Then he shook his head, cast those idle thoughts aside, and walked deeper into the bamboo grove. When he arrived at his destination, the forest was utterly still. Zhang Fan looked in every direction but found no trace of the grey-furred monkey. He muttered to himself: let's hope the creature hadn't grown sentient enough to sense that he'd brought help today and was now too afraid to show its face.
He thought to himself and looked around in every direction, but finding no trace of the monkey was a hopeless endeavor. He had no choice but to walk over to a black-jointed bamboo and raise his blade as if to cut it down.
*Squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak!* Suddenly, a familiar shriek rang out from overhead.
Zhang Fan instinctively leaped aside on reflex, yet felt a sharp pain atop his head—too late. A pine cone had struck him squarely, and it hurt something fierce. He looked up to find the gray monkey, same as always, hanging upside down from a bamboo branch, laughing without end.
A wave of joy surged in his heart. He leaped to his feet, pointed at the monkey, and burst out laughing: "Haha, you've finally come!"
His voice was soft, yet the monkey was startled out of its wits. It thought to itself: this fellow, whenever he got hit, would always fly into a towering rage—fuming, furious, ready to explode. So why today was he overjoyed instead? Could it be that after being pelted for so many days, he had actually grown *addicted* to it? That without a good knock he felt all wrong, and the more it hurt, the happier he became?
Just then, a crimson flash swept through the bamboo grove — Tian Ling'er came soaring through the air astride the "Amber Crimson Silk," swift as lightning, her five fingers curling into claws as she snatched toward the monkey.
The monkey proved unexpectedly quick-witted. Catching the movement from the corner of its eye, it reacted at once—its tail unwound from the bamboo branch and its whole body dropped away. Tian Ling'er had worked out a response for every direction the creature might bolt, left or right, forward or back, yet she had never anticipated the grey monkey simply falling straight down. For a moment she froze, and her grasp closed on empty air.
Zhang Fan crouched underground, poised to move, yet he watched as the monkey in mid-air lightly stretched out an arm, seized a bamboo stalk, and latched onto it in an instant. Without the slightest hesitation, and seeming to sense how formidable the red-robed woman above him was, it immediately began to swing and leap—from one stalk of bamboo to the next, then to the next—intent on making its escape.
Tian Ling'er's competitive spirit flared. She called out from midair, flicked her hand, and the Amber Crimson Silk tore through the air. On the ground below, Zhang Fan broke into a run and gave chase with great strides.
Were they on open ground, with the swiftness of Amber Crimson Gauze, Tian Ling'er would have caught that gray monkey in no time. But here in the dense bamboo forest, it was a different matter entirely. The gray monkey was exceedingly clever, never fleeing in a straight line—it swung left and right through the trees, weaving and doubling back as it darted ahead. Tian Ling'er had to track the monkey's every move while simultaneously guarding against the dark-jointed bamboo stalks that thrust at her from all directions, making it a tremendous nuisance. As for Zhang Fan, he could only chase along on the ground in helpless anxiety, unable to offer any aid whatsoever.
The two of them and the monkey gave chase in a frantic scramble, the gray monkey's shrieks of "eek eek eek eek" ringing in their ears. How long they had been running, they could not say—Zhang Fan's breathing had grown heavy and weariness was setting in, and he reckoned they must have already come a very long way.
Before him stretched a dense bamboo grove, lush and seemingly without end, wave upon wave of green rushing toward him. Zhang Fan's mouth was parched, when suddenly a gray shadow flickered ahead and plummeted straight down. Overjoyed beyond expectation, his spirits surged at once; he charged forward in a single burst of energy—and at that very moment, Tian Ling'er above let out a sharp cry: "Your heart!"
A cliff edge loomed suddenly before Zhang Fan. He pulled up short, barely keeping himself from plunging over. Steadying his nerves, he peered down into a deep ravine below. Thick fog rolled through the far reaches of the valley, obscuring everything within; yet on the nearer walls of the gorge, the black-jointed bamboo had given way entirely to a tangle of wild trees—pine and cypress for the most part. It seemed they had chased their quarry all the way to that secluded valley hidden at the farthest reaches of the back mountain.
Zhang Fan watched as the grey monkey plummeted downward, only to repeat its old trick mid-air—snatching a branch, it swung its body in a sweeping arc, shedding the force of its fall, and fled forward.
Just as he was growing desperate, the sound of something cleaving through the air reached his ears. He looked up to see Tian Ling'er drifting toward him through the sky, her red robes billowing, one hand—white as jade—extended in his direction. "Come up," she called.
Zhang Fan had no time to think. He reached out and seized Tian Ling'er; she gave a hard pull and hauled him up onto the crimson silk. The Amber Crimson Silk dipped for a moment under the added weight, then immediately sprang back to its original form.
It was Zhang Fan's first time in such a situation, and he stood there completely at a loss. Tian Ling'er pulled him behind her and said with an impatient frown, "Grab my waist—hurry."
Zhang Fan did as told and held on tight. Tian Ling'er, impatient to give chase, guided the silk ribbon aloft—a red streak flashing through the air—as the two rode the "Amber Crimson Silk" and plunged straight into the deep valley, pursuing the silhouette of that gray monkey.
The wind shrieked and cut like a blade. Zhang Fan felt it howling past his ears until he could barely keep his eyes open. Beneath his feet, the "Amber Vermilion Silk" was neither quite soft nor quite firm, giving him the constant sense that one careless moment would send him tumbling into the void. His heart hammered in his chest, and out of that half-fearful instinct he pulled Tian Ling'er closer still. All he could see was red robes billowing like clouds before him, and his senior sister's silhouette against the sky—graceful as a celestial maiden, beautiful beyond compare. A faint, delicate fragrance drifted to his nose, and a warmth spread through his heart. He found himself wishing, truly wishing, that this moment might never end.
Tian Ling'er had no idea what strange thoughts were running through the boy behind her; her mind was entirely fixed on the gray monkey up ahead. Pampered and praised by her parents and senior brothers all her life, she had grown rather proud by nature — and the notion that she could not catch up to a mere monkey was simply, utterly unacceptable.
Thus, deep within the valley, amid the shadows of the trees, a gray figure darted ahead while a red figure gave close chase — weaving and swaying, twisting and turning, one fleeing and one in pursuit.
Another half a shichen passed in the chase. The gray monkey, whatever strange creature it was, showed not the slightest sign of fatigue and kept fleeing at a startling pace. Yet Tian Ling'er, after so long a pursuit, had gradually grown accustomed to weaving through the forest, and it was plain to see that she was drawing closer with every passing moment.
The grey monkey fled deeper and deeper into the secluded valley. Zhang Fan peered ahead from behind Tian Ling'er and saw that the trees were growing sparse, light filtering through—what appeared to be a clearing, with the faint sound of water. The monkey's shrieks grew increasingly frantic, as though it had never imagined these two would pursue it so relentlessly without giving up. But with no way to retreat, it had no choice but to flee desperately onward.
Before long, a sudden brightness opened up ahead—sure enough, there was a wide clearing, its ground strewn with broken stones, a jade-green pool at its center, ripples spreading across the surface as the water drifted westward. The grey ape fled to this spot and hesitated visibly for a moment, but the sound of air splitting apart behind it arrived in the blink of an eye, leaving it no choice but to drop to the ground and press forward. Yet for reasons unknown, its pace had grown impossibly slow—less like fleeing for its life, more like an afternoon stroll. Even so, it kept on, step by plodding step.
Zhang Fan noticed this, finding it strange, but Tian Ling'er was fully occupied—dodging obstacles while tracking the monkey's movements, her entire mind stretched to its limit. There was no room left to dwell on anything else. Catching sight of the gray monkey right before her, she was overjoyed beyond measure. With a sharp cry, she drove her silk ribbon forward and charged into the clearing, lunging straight at the creature.
Just as Zhang Fan was about to lay hands on the monkey, a sudden crack rang through his skull. His body swayed twice of its own accord, and a wave of nausea surged up from deep within his organs, shooting straight to the crown of his head; in an instant his entire frame began to shudder. Zhang Fan was seized with alarm, utterly at a loss — but at that very moment a warmth bloomed in his chest. A current of gentle heat spread outward, shielding his heart meridians, and just like that, the nausea was swept away.
Zhang Fan instinctively glanced down at his chest, sensing that the warmth was emanating from the deep violet bead Puzhi had given him. At the same moment, Tian Ling'er, walking just ahead, suddenly shuddered twice; her body went limp, and she crumpled to the ground.
The two of them had been suspended in midair, but the moment Tian Ling'er lost control, the Amber Crimson Silk came to an abrupt stop, and both plummeted straight down from the sky.
Zhang Fan rolled several times across the ground, pain shooting through his body, but he had no time to dwell on it — before he had even gotten to his feet, he was already shouting at the top of his lungs: "Senior Sister! Senior Sister, are you all right?"
There before them, Tian Ling'er lay collapsed on the ground, motionless, her face deathly pale and her forehead slick with cold sweat—she had already lost consciousness.
Zhang Fan's face drained of color. He guessed it was most likely connected to that strange sensation from moments ago. Forcing himself to endure the pain, he scrambled to his feet and rushed to Tian Ling'er's side, shaking her and calling out to her several times—yet Tian Ling'er remained completely unresponsive.
Zhang Fan looked around once more. With the jade-green pool at its center, not a single blade of grass grew within a radius of three zhang, yet beyond that boundary the trees stood thick and flourishing. He clenched his teeth, forced down the waves of nausea that kept rising in his chest, hoisted Tian Ling'er onto his back, scooped up the amber vermilion silk that lay discarded to one side, and started walking out.
A distance of one or two zhang would ordinarily be nothing worth mentioning, yet with that nauseating sensation assailing him again and again, every step became a desperate struggle. Only after great difficulty did he manage to cover three zhang and reach a large pine tree—whereupon that nauseating feeling vanished without a trace.
Zhang Fan set Tian Ling'er down and bent over, chest heaving as he gulped for air. He turned his gaze toward the pool and saw that the grey monkey was still there, motionless now, its face contorted in pain as it looked back at him—its eyes filled with an unmistakable plea for help.
Zhang Fan furrowed his brow. Unable to bring himself to leave, he stood and walked back inside. He had only taken a few steps when that nauseating feeling returned — yet at the same time, the warmth in his chest rose again, pushing back against the discomfort.
Zhang Fan walked slowly to the monkey's side, his forehead already drenched in sweat. The gray monkey, seeing him draw near, remained perfectly still—it seemed to have been crushed to the point where it could barely breathe. Zhang Fan drew a deep breath, bent down, and gathered the monkey into his arms, then turned and walked toward the way out. The gray monkey was remarkably docile now, lying quietly against his chest.
He finally managed to make his way back out. Walking over to where Tian Ling'er still lay unconscious, the nausea faded away. Zhang Fan set the gray monkey down and dropped onto the ground himself, gulping air in ragged breaths. The gray monkey let out a long sigh of relief as well, flopping flat on the earth, its eyes darting this way and that—yet it made no move to flee, only watching Zhang Fan.
Zhang Fan loosened his collar and drew out the bead tied with a red cord, turning it over in his hands for a careful look. The deep purple of its surface had faded to a pale lavender, and the cyan qi coiling within seemed to have been stirred by something—it was spiraling ten times faster than before, spinning ceaselessly, battering against the walls of the bead in every direction. As always, each time the cyan qi struck, a Buddhist mantra rose to meet it and hold it at bay. And the warmth that had just saved Zhang Fan's life—that, too, had flowed outward from those very mantras.
Yet Zhang Fan could clearly see that those Buddhist sacred mantras, compared to when he had first laid eyes on them three years ago, had diminished greatly — both in size and in brilliance.