By dinnertime, darkness had already fallen.
On Dazhu Peak, the back mountain was covered by swathes of bamboo groves, while all the dwellings and buildings stood on the front slope. The largest and most important of these was the main hall, the Hall of Tranquil Stillness, where Tian Buyi, his wife, and their daughter made their home in the rear chambers. Directly beside the hall lay the cloister courtyard where the disciples lived; yet with so few people and more rooms than residents, each disciple had a chamber to himself—even the newly arrived Zhang Fan had been given one. By any measure of living conditions, Dazhu Peak was a rare exception, surpassing every other branch of the sect.
What remained were only the Taiji Cave for cultivation practice, the kitchen, and the dining hall. By now, all the disciples had gathered in the dining hall, where Du Bishu—the sixth brother, in charge of meals—carried dish after dish to the table, the fare consisting mostly of vegetarian food with little meat or fish. The disciples took their seats in order along the right side of the long table, with Song Daren at the head and Zhang Fan respectfully occupying the last seat at the far end. At the head of the table and on the opposite side, one large chair and two smaller chairs had been set out at each position, evidently arranged for Tian Buyi and his family.
Zhang Fan glanced at the empty seat beside him — it belonged to the sixth brother, Du Bishu, who was still busy. After a while, Du Bishu finally finished serving the dishes, washed his hands, and settled back into his seat, joining the others in waiting for their master.
Du Bishu appeared quite young, with a thin, pointed face and large, triangular eyes that darted about restlessly, giving him a clever, quick-witted air. After taking his seat, he glanced at Zhang Fan and smiled. "Junior Brother, what's your name?"
Zhang Fan answered honestly, "Zhang Fan."
Du Bi: "I am your Sixth Senior Martial Brother, Du Bishu."
Zhang Fan called out respectfully, "Sixth Senior Brother."
Du Bishu gave a light cough, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled: "Stay a while — come try your senior brother's cooking."
Zhang Fan caught the enticing aroma wafting from the table laden with food, and could not help swallowing hard before giving a vigorous nod.
Du Bishu suddenly broke into a smile, unmistakably suggestive, and pointed toward the entrance of the hall. "Junior Brother, Master, Mistress, and Junior Sister will be coming through that door shortly. What do you say we make a bet?"
Zhang Fan froze. The others at the table all turned their heads one after another, smiles spreading across their faces. Du Bi, seated nearby, spoke up: "Old Six, has your gambling addiction flared up again?"
Beside him, the lean and sharp-featured He Dazhi laughed: "Has he gone so long without a win that he's now trying to hustle kids?"
"Go on!" Du Bishu waved his hand repeatedly, paying no attention to the others, his face wreathed in smiles as he turned to Zhang Fan. "Junior Brother, take a guess — of Master's family of three, who do you think will be the first to step through that door? You've only just arrived, so I'll let you go first. Don't think your Senior Brother is trying to take advantage of you."
From his seat at a distance, Second Brother Wu Dayi called out in a loud voice: "Junior Brother, since you are making a bet, you should first ask him — what happens if he loses, and what if he wins?"
Du Bi: "You think I'd welch on a bet? I, Du Bi, have wandered this world on the strength of my name — a gambler's reputation that rings throughout the jianghu. Junior Brother, if you guess right, I'll chop bamboo for you for ten days straight. If you lose, you wash my dishes for ten days. What do you say?"
Everyone burst out laughing again, and Song Daren laughed as he scolded: "Worthless."
Seeing his senior brothers' warm smiles and friendly manner—none of them treating him as an outsider in the least—Zhang Fan felt a wave of warmth wash over his heart.
Du Bishu slapped his thigh, his whole demeanor instantly lighting up with excitement, face positively glowing. "Junior Brother, so between your Master, your Master's wife, and your Junior Sister—who do you think will come in first?"
All eyes fell on Zhang Fan. Zhang Fan turned it over in his mind: Qingyun Sect held teachers in the highest esteem, so Master Tian Buyi must surely have been the first to enter. He immediately called out in a loud voice, "I guess it must be Master who came in first."
Everyone burst out laughing. Lü Daxin shook his head and said: "Never would've thought Old Six would actually pull one over on us today."
Du Bishu was beside himself with glee. Looking at Zhang Fan's thoroughly confused face, he chuckled merrily: "Junior Brother, let me tell you — every single time Master's family comes by, Junior Sister is always the first one to come barging in. Haha, you'll be helping me wash the dishes in a bit."
Zhang Fan rubbed the back of his head, unable to suppress a smile, and nodded. "Senior Brother."
Zheng Dali — third in seniority, short and stocky — laughed: "Old Six, have you no shame?"
Du Bi: "Third Brother, what's your problem? It's not like I twisted your arm. A bet's a bet—isn't that right, Junior Brother?"
Zhang Fan nodded, then suddenly heard Song Daren say, "Master is here."
Everyone's expression grew serious. They all rose to their feet, turning toward the entrance to receive their elders. A moment later, the short, stout figure of Tian Buyi appeared in the doorway — and behind him was…
There was nothing at all!
He had actually come alone.
Everyone froze in unison. Du Bi spoke up: "Master, where are Master's wife and Junior Sister?"
Tian Buyi glanced at him and said lightly, "Your master's wife has taken your junior sister back to her family home."
Everyone was stunned, but moments later someone could no longer hold back a laugh. They watched as Tian Buyi swayed and stumbled his way inside — Zhang Fan's face was a mask of embarrassment, caught between wanting to laugh and not daring to, while Du Bishu stood there utterly dumbfounded.
Tian Buyi sat back in his great chair, gave a casual wave of his hand, and said, "Let's eat."
Only then did the disciples sit down, each one watching Du Bishu with an indecipherable smile. Tian Buyi glanced at Zhang Fan, then turned to Song Daren and asked, "Have you gone over the sect rules and commandments with him?"
Song Daren nodded and said: "I have already told Junior Brother all twenty precepts of the sect rules. As for the foundational Cultivation methods, I can see that Junior Brother is a little weary from arriving today for the first time, so I plan to formally impart them tomorrow."
Tian Buyi gave a slight nod of agreement and turned to Zhang Fan. "Old Seven."
Zhang Fan had not yet come to his senses when Du Bishu beside him gave him a nudge. Only then did he realize his master was calling for him. He hastily rose to his feet and said, "Your disciple is present."
Tian Buyi shook his head, his confidence in this slow-witted disciple diminishing a little more. "For now, just follow your senior brother. Remember to apply yourself in your studies. The sea of the Dao is boundless, and diligence is your vessel — even if your aptitude is somewhat lacking, so long as you are tenacious and hardworking, there is no reason you cannot master it. Do you understand?"
Zhang Fan answered with reverent deference, as though receiving an imperial decree: "Yes."
Tian Buyi waved his hand. "Eat."
Zhang Fan was short of stature, and sitting in his chair with a large bowl cradled in his hands, he could not quite reach the dishes set a little farther away. Du Bishu, seated beside him, was quite kindhearted, however, picking up food for him several times and murmuring with a smile, "Junior Brother, eat more." From his manner, he seemed entirely unbothered by having lost the bet — his sportsmanship was indeed admirable.
Zhang Fan felt a surge of gratitude, nodding again and again. After eating for a moment, he leaned in and whispered, "Sixth Senior Brother."
Du Bi: "What?"
Zhang Fan said, "How does Master's Wife still have a maternal family?" In his heart, all members of Qingyu Sect were celestial beings of the highest order — how could any of them have worldly attachments?
Du Bi: "Of course she does—Master's wife is only human. Though when Master and his wife went back to her family home, it wasn't truly her family home. She returned to our sect's Bamboo Peak, to Martial Uncle Shuiyue."
Zhang Fan said in surprise, "What?"
Du Bi: "When Shimu was young, she originally came from the Bamboo Peak lineage — she and Master Shuiyue of Bamboo Peak were fellow disciples, and they were on very good terms. Later, for reasons no one could quite understand, Shimu — lovely as a flower — somehow ended up marrying Shifu. Word was that many of the male martial uncles at Qingyun Sect back then simply couldn't get over it…"
A chopstick came down hard on Du Bi, leaving a vivid red mark. The two of them flinched in alarm, only to find Tian Buyi looming over them with a furious expression, one chopstick fewer in his hand. Du Bishu turned and stuck his tongue out at Zhang Fan; neither of them dared say another word. They bowed their heads and buried themselves in their meal.
At that moment, Song Daren said to Tian Buyi, "Shizun, the Sect Master has called together this gathering of the Seven Veins—how is it that only Martial Uncle Shuiyue has failed to come?"
Tian Buyi let out a snort and picked up another pair of chopsticks. "If it weren't for that old Daoist nun faking illness and sending someone to tell Senior Brother Sect Master she had a headache and fever and couldn't make it—and Senior Brother Sect Master actually believed her. If she'd come too, even if I couldn't grab the good ones, I wouldn't necessarily have ended up with..."
His fourth disciple He Dazhi gave two dry coughs and said quietly, "Master, Martial Uncle Shuiyue's lineage has never accepted male disciples."
Tian Buyi faltered, then shook his head. "That Shīniáng of yours — the moment she hears Shuiyue has even the slightest thing wrong with her, she immediately drags Ling'er along to go check on her, carrying on as though the sky had fallen. Honestly."
The disciples exchanged glances, all wearing expressions of delight. Song Daren hesitated a moment before venturing to ask, "Master, how many days will our Mistress be staying at Martial Uncle Shuiyue's place?"
Tian Buyi shot him a glare and snapped, "What do you mean how many days? We leave today and return tonight."
Sighs rose from the disciples on all sides, each wearing a look of disappointment. Tian Buyi glanced around, let out a snort, and said to Song Daren: "Did Shiniang guide your Cultivation again today?"
Before Song Daren could say a word, Second Brother Wu Dayi jumped in: "Master, don't bother asking him — Senior Brother deserted the field today, utterly shameless."
Song Daren said angrily, "Hu, I am here on Master's orders to help my junior brother…"
Boos erupted from all around.
The meal lasted half a shichen. After the others had departed, Zhang Fan made to stay and help, but Du Bi said: "Junior Brother, many thanks — but I can manage things here on my own. You won the bet fair and square; rest assured, tomorrow I'll go chop bamboo for you."
Zhang Fan felt quite embarrassed and was just thinking of something to say when he heard Song Daren's voice: "Old Six, don't help him." No sooner had the words fallen than Song Daren walked in through the doorway and said to Zhang Fan, "Junior Brother will take you to your room."
Zhang Fan gave a nod. Du Bi asked, "Senior Brother, what are you—?"
Song Daren said, "Junior Brother has only just begun—this is precisely the time to lay a solid foundation. It is far too soon to be slacking off."
Du Bi: "Fair enough. How about this, Junior Brother — consider this one I owe you. From now on, if you ever need anything handled, just say the word and I'll take care of it. Deal?"
Zhang Fan said, "Sixth Senior Brother, maybe we should just forget it. Anyway…"
Du Bi: "What do you take me for? Am I the sort of man who cannot tell right from wrong, or tell the loyal from the treacherous? I gave you my word, and I will keep it — otherwise I'd hand them a handle against me and invite the mockery of every senior brother for nothing."
Zhang Fan gave a nod, yet in his heart he still could not fathom what any of this had to do with failing to tell right from wrong or loyal from treacherous.
Song Daren took Zhang Fan's hand. "Junior Brother, I'll show you to your new room."
The two of them stepped out of the kitchen into a sky that had already deepened to darkness. A bright full moon rose slowly, hanging in the east. They passed by the entrance of the Hall of Tranquil Stillness, and Zhang Fan glanced inside—every lamp had been snuffed out, leaving nothing but pitch blackness, with only moonlight spilling across the front of the hall, lending the place a rather eerie, unsettling air.
After walking a little further, they returned to the corridor where the disciples lived. Song Daren led him to the last room on the right. "Junior Brother, the room where you woke up belongs to me. The other junior brothers each have their own rooms in turn, all on the right side. Those seven rooms on the left are unoccupied." He paused, looked at Zhang Fan, and said, "You'll be staying alone — scared?"
Zhang Fan shook his head.
Song Daren smiled and said, "There you have it — what real man is afraid of being alone? Let's head in." With that, he led Zhang Fan inside.
Zhang Fan gazed at this unfamiliar place that would nonetheless become his long companion in the days ahead: a courtyard with a green pine standing to the left and five or six stalks of bamboo rising two or three times a man's height to the right. A path of rounded stones wound through the center, flanked on either side by stretches of grass. As the night breeze drifted in, leaves and bamboo fronds swayed gently, carrying with them a faint, cool fragrance of green things—altogether quiet and still.
Song Daren opened the door, stepped inside, and lit the lamp. "Junior Brother, come in."
Zhang Fan walked in, only to find the room's furnishings just as simple and spare as Song Daren's — a table, chairs, and a bed, nothing more.
Song Daren said: "I have tidied up the place a bit now, so you may stay here for the time being. Life in the mountains is austere and harsh, and given your age, you may find it lonely — but we who walk the path of the Dao must endure all manner of hardships. From here on, you will have to manage your own daily needs."
Zhang Fan said, "Understood, Senior Brother."
Song Daren gave a nod, then glanced left and right. "If there's nothing else, I'll head back. You must be tired too — get some rest early."
Zhang Fan murmured his assent and walked Senior Brother to the doorway, when something suddenly occurred to him. "Senior Brother, it's only just turned dark — how come none of the other senior brothers have come out for a walk?"
Song Daren laughed. "You don't know — even the least senior among us has spent decades cultivating up here on Great Bamboo Peak. We rarely venture out; we've roamed every corner of this mountain so many times there's nothing left to see. So everyone's too lazy to bother. Fourth Brother loves his books, Second Brother loves humming tunes, and the more diligent ones like Third Brother just cultivate in their rooms — they hardly ever come out."
Only then did Zhang Fan understand. Song Daren smiled and ruffled his hair, offered a few parting words of advice, then turned and walked away.
Zhang Fan returned to his room and closed the door. In an instant, the whole world seemed to fall utterly silent — not a single human voice remained. He walked quietly to the table and sat there in a daze for a while. With nothing to do, he blew out the lamp, shed his outer robe, and lay down on the bed. He tossed and turned, not knowing how much time had passed, until at last he drifted off into a restless sleep.
"Ah!"
In the darkness, Zhang Fan let out a low cry and jolted upright, gasping for breath. He had just dreamed of returning to Grass Temple Village — of seeing his father and mother again, of seeing his childhood playmates, of the aunts and uncles and all the familiar faces, everyone warm and full of laughter. Then, in an instant, they had all become corpses. Rivers of blood. A horror beyond words. He shuddered all over, and that was what had wrenched him awake.
He sat on the bed for a long while, his breathing gradually growing calm, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Through the slightly ajar window, a faint shaft of moonlight slanted in, spilling across the blue-brick floor like a scattering of frost and snow.
Zhang Fan's drowsiness had vanished. He got up, walked to the door, and with a creak, pulled it open and stepped outside.
Silence reigned on all sides. From some nameless place, faint insect calls drifted in — one, then two — low and plaintive. Moonlight, like water, spilled across him.
He tilted his head back to look up, and saw only a sky scattered with countless stars, the moon hanging directly overhead, luminous and bright.
"I wonder how Lin Jingyu is doing right now — could he be sleepless too?" He murmured the words softly, let out a sigh, and was about to turn back into the room when suddenly something shifted at his chest; an object slipped free from the inner folds of his garment and tumbled to the ground.
Zhang Fan was startled. He bent down and picked it up—it was that dark, lusterless violet bead, a tiny hole running through its center, clearly the one Puzhi had once threaded onto his jade prayer beads. Amid the great upheavals he had endured since then, he had long forgotten about the object; only now did it come back to him that Puzhi had told him, at the time, to throw the bead away.
At this thought, a sudden bitterness welled in his heart. His parents had left him nothing, and his bond with Puzhi had been a shallow one — yet that single night spent together had felt no different from being with kin. And this ugly little bead was the only thing Puzhi had left him.
Zhang Fan raised his hand and held the pearl aloft, tilting it toward the moonlight. Bathed in the moon's pure silver radiance, the pearl's color had visibly lightened, shifting to a pale violet and turning translucent. Faintly visible within, a wisp of delicate azure qi spun without cease, as though possessed of its own awareness, straining to break free of its shell. Yet each time the azure qi drew near the surface, a glow would kindle at that very spot and push it back.
Zhang Fan gazed at it for a long while, and found himself unexpectedly growing rather fond of it. Thinking also that this was the only keepsake Puzhi had left behind, he truly could not bring himself to discard it. After some deliberation, he untied a red cord from around his neck — one that his father and mother had fastened there to bless him with a long and peaceful life. Most families would hang a gold or silver amulet for the same purpose, but his family was poor, and so a simple red cord had to serve in its place.
He threaded the bead onto the red cord, knotted it tight, and hung it against his bare chest. He had expected the chill of it, but instead there was a faint warmth. A small smile crossed his face. He tilted his head back to take one last look at the bright moon above, then turned and walked back to his room, and went to sleep.
His standing as the number one disciple of Qingyun Sect — it ended, just like that.