After leaving the Scripture Pavilion and heading down the stone steps, Ding Songyan had just rounded a bend in the wooded path when that vast, misty Level Lake spread out before his eyes.
The great sun hung slanting westward, scattering gold and red that all but set the lake's surface ablaze. "Flowing fire" rose everywhere, mirroring the clear reflections of the verdant peaks and layered forests, a beauty that seemed not of this world.
A pleasantly cool wind arrived just in time, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees into Ding Songyan's nose.
His spirits lifted at once, and the fatigue and weakness he had built up seemed to dissolve by a good deal.
Step by step he went down to the lakeside and drew a deep breath, walking slowly along the shore, in no hurry to return to his own dwelling.
On one side were the small buildings tucked among flowers, grass, and trees—the many courtyards, the training grounds, the several halls and pavilions; on the other were the lake's gleam and the mountain's hues, the setting sun and the returning birds. Ding Songyan felt his heart and mind broaden greatly.
This Level Lake was quite large, and the unbroken stretch of buildings around it was enough to support a large town. As far as Ding Songyan knew, counting the structures up in the peak region, the Xiaoming Sect could house five or six thousand people, exceeding the rigid impression he had held in his past life of how big a sect could be.
And this was not yet a truly great and established sect.
Still, in normal times only eight or nine hundred Xiaoming Sect members lived in the mountains. The rest were either down at Level Lake Town below, coming up only when they had duties; or in prefectural cities, county seats, and the like, assisting with patrol duty; or managing the miscellaneous affairs of estates, ironworks, cloth shops, weapon shops, and the various trading houses; or serving as escorts to safeguard these money-making ventures.
Even so, newly entered disciples, in their second year, had to carry night soil down the mountain at the first light of dawn, delivering it to the estates belonging to the Xiaoming Sect; in their third year they would go down to Level Lake Town and carry rice, flour, meat, oil, and all kinds of vegetables and fruits up the mountain—both doing work for the sect and completing their morning body-forging lessons.
Ding Songyan counted himself fortunate: he had been commended and rewarded the moment he entered the sect for handing over The Esoteric Classic of Mountains and Seas, and so was spared such bitter, toilsome chores.
The coolness of the breeze over the lake was deepening, and just as Ding Songyan was about to return to his dwelling, a voice he knew for its unfailing vitality suddenly sounded by his ear—Zheng Zhuxi's:
"Junior Brother Ding, do you also find the evening glow over Level Lake beautiful?"
Ding Songyan turned and saw Zheng Zhuxi walking slowly over from ten zhang away.
The girl wore a lake-green, center-fronted short jacket and a pale green pleated skirt. Being tall and slender, she moved with the grace of a willow swaying in the breeze.
Senior Sister Zheng had a bright, warm, generous, and confident nature, like the dawn glow of morning; she should have matched it with red, peach, or bright yellow dresses, and when she needed to show her upright, self-possessed, dashing side she changed into the sect's black martial garb. Yet for some reason she favored fresh, delicate green skirts... Ding Songyan muttered a couple of words under his breath, then smilingly went to meet Zheng Zhuxi:
"Who could fail to love such beautiful scenery?"
This was no empty flattery. Ever since he had consumed Hundun and reached the peak of the grandmaster realm, Ding Songyan often felt the wondrous sensation that the lake and mountains were the Dao, the setting sun's glow was the Dao, birds flocking home to the forest were the Dao, the white clouds shifting form were the Dao—his body and mind immersed in it all, as if resonating with the natural rhythms so deeply contained within.
With his current level of martial attainment, he could not yet gain much from such sensations, but he believed that, given time, these repeated immersions and insights would surely find their way into the martial arts he was creating.
Once the distance between them closed, Zheng Zhuxi started:
"Junior Brother Ding, what's this? Why are you so pale?"
The girl's double pupils were not yet obvious, and she had not noticed Ding Songyan's condition just now.
Ding Songyan smiled and said, "I've spent the last two hours on aperture refinement."
Zheng Zhuxi gave an "oh," and then, as if in sudden understanding, put on the airs of a senior sister: "Rushing will only harm your spirit—the more you're just starting out, the slower you should go."
She did not really understand why Junior Brother Ding, who a month and more ago had shown no trace of martial training at all, had—only a little over a month after entering the sect—already completed the painstaking grind of body forging and qi refining and been permitted to begin visualization and aperture refinement.
She had asked her mother, and the answer she received was that Ding Songyan had gained some benefit from the affair at Zhen Manor, and that body forging and qi refining were about adapting to changes in the body, not changing the body itself.
Zheng Zhuxi knew the affair at Zhen Manor involved the mystery of Kunlun and the Heavenly Emperor's secret treasure, but she did not know that Hundun's remains were involved. She could only guess that Ding Songyan had eaten something like huai fruit, leaving him strong in body and abundant in root source.
"Yes, Senior Sister Zheng." Ding Songyan answered cooperatively.
Zheng Zhuxi's brows and eyes curved slightly, and with a clear, bright smile she showed concern for her own junior brother: "I have some calming incense that soothes the spirit. I'll give you some later—it can help nourish your heart and mind."
Ding Songyan would naturally not refuse his senior sister's kindness. Accepting others' help draws people closer than helping others does; the only difficulty is getting past a certain barrier in one's own heart—and Ding Songyan had stepped over that barrier seven or eight years ago.
After hearing his words of gratitude, Zheng Zhuxi's dimples appeared, and a touch of sly cleverness came into her expression: "Junior Brother Ding, could you do me a favor tomorrow?"
Ah... Senior Sister Zheng, you've changed. Back in Dingjiang Prefecture, if you wanted me to help, you'd say it as a matter of course. But today you first showed concern for me, gave me incense, and only then brought up asking for my help... It's a bit stiff, granted, but it really does make a person feel much better... It seems the earlier matters have taught you quite a lot too... Even without deliberately reading her words and expression, Ding Songyan had noticed some changes in Zheng Zhuxi.
He asked with a smile, "What could I possibly help you with, Senior Sister?"
"Tomorrow afternoon, come with me to look around Level Lake Town." Zheng Zhuxi said with a beaming smile, open and generous.
"That simple?" Ding Songyan had been about to say that even A'hua of Chengyu Lane could handle this favor, but since he had not spent much time with Zheng Zhuxi and did not know whether the girl could take a joke, he asked back in an appropriately proper way instead.
Zheng Zhuxi's dimples showed faintly, her expression still a beaming smile: "I'll explain when we get to Level Lake Town tomorrow. Actually, all you need to do is stroll around with me."
So mysterious... Lately Ding Songyan had been absorbed in researching martial arts and creating his own martial path, unable to pull himself away, and he actually did not much want to go down the mountain. Still, he had to give Senior Sister Zheng face, so he gave an "mm" and said, "Then come to my courtyard to find me tomorrow, Senior Sister."
Zheng Zhuxi, satisfied, gave her instructions: "You've overtaxed your spirit, so rest early. I'll leave the incense at your door later and won't come in to disturb you."
With that, she bid Ding Songyan farewell and set off along the lake with light, brisk steps, stirring the evening breeze.
Ding Songyan made his way around to the northwest corner of Level Lake, near the cliff side, and entered the courtyard that belonged to him alone.
The courtyard had five rooms: two side chambers; a quiet study for sitting in meditation and regulating the breath, and for books; a hall for dining and receiving guests; and a clean, tidy privy with a washbasin and a flush toilet. There was no stove, oil, or firewood, only a warming brazier, a tea stove, and some lumps of coal.
Clear mountain spring water came through clay pipes mounted on the walls and wooden frames, filling the water vats beneath the eaves. It nourished the flowers and plants around the courtyard and the two trees to the left and right—one an evergreen pine, the other a moisture-loving elm.
Ding Songyan went into the privy, took care of his personal business, and turned the bronze-and-iron mechanism, letting the spring water gush out noisily.
He cupped a handful of cold water in both palms and splashed it onto his face. The chill jolted him, and he felt refreshed at once.
After wiping his face, hands, and body, closing the mechanism, and changing into clean clothes, Ding Songyan returned to the hall and saw that the servants had already delivered today's dinner and his laundered, sun-dried clothes.
In the food box were dishes of evenly marbled, glossy red-braised pork, plump chicken steamed in lotus leaf, mushrooms stir-fried with Qin peppers, and a clear vegetable soup, along with a large bowl of rice as white and lustrous as pearls.
Ding Songyan ate like a wind sweeping away scattered clouds, and both body and mind felt thoroughly at ease.
He packed up the food box and carried it together with the cloth bag of his changed clothes outside, setting them down by the door; servants would come to collect them later.
Zheng Zhuxi had already delivered a packet of incense, along with a small, fresh, and elegant celadon burner.
After hanging a "Do Not Disturb" wooden plaque at his door, Ding Songyan took the small burner and the incense back to the west wing room. He first lit the oil lamp, then lit a stick of incense and set it in the burner.
A light yet deep fragrance gradually spread out, somewhat like cloves.
Ding Songyan took off his outer garment, lay down on the bed, and by the glow of the oil lamp and the last of the daylight, began to leaf through the book he had borrowed from the Scripture Pavilion the day before.
The book, which recorded observations and tales of the jianghu, mentioned that the three secret scriptures of Juesheng Dao were the Scripture of Heaven Heart Wisdom, the Book of Rejecting Sagehood and Discarding Wisdom, and the Treatise of Resonating with Heaven and Earth. Among them, the Scripture of Heaven Heart Wisdom was the most esteemed: each generation's inheritor had to sever all worldly ties, and whenever there was no fellow disciple of a higher realm present, it was always a practitioner of the Scripture of Heaven Heart Wisdom who served as the sect master of Juesheng Dao.
Breathing in the fresh, light fragrance and reading about the various affairs of the martial world, Ding Songyan—already exceedingly weary—gradually could not hold out, feeling sleep surge over him.
Into the empty air around him there suddenly appeared that phantom wing, snow-white and bitterly cold.
A biting wind rose howling from it, and in an instant it blew out the oil lamp.
The phantom wing vanished in a blink, the room sank into darkness, and Ding Songyan fell fast asleep.
The next morning, when Ding Songyan woke, he was fully recovered and full of vigor.
After tidying up a little, he opened the courtyard gate and found that, because of the "Do Not Disturb" plaque, the servants had not delivered his breakfast. So he had to lock the door and go out, heading to the dining hall on his own.
He had just reached the lakeside when Ding Songyan saw Wan Guhong strolling over, relaxed and unhurried.
This senior brother had a steamed bun in his mouth, and with one hand he held up an opened piece of yellow oil paper on which several steamed buns were stacked.
"Good morning, Senior Brother Wan. Why not eat in the dining hall?" Ding Songyan greeted him with a smile.
Apart from the several grandmasters and the high-ranking stewards, the only ones with servants to deliver their meals were Ding Songyan and Zheng Zhuxi, who lived in her mother's courtyard.
Wan Guhong smacked his lips and said, "If I sat down in the dining hall, people would inevitably come up to ask me—'Senior Brother Wan, how should I counter this move? Senior Brother Wan, how should I circulate my qi in this move? Senior Brother Wan, could you give me a pointer or two today?' How would I ever get to eat?"
"True enough." Ding Songyan casually took two steamed buns from Senior Brother Wan's packet of oil paper.
Wan Guhong froze for a moment, and only after a while did he react: "Hey, my steamed buns!"
Ding Songyan finished those two meat buns in three bites and was about to continue on his way when he suddenly felt a stir in his heart and looked up at the trees by the path.
It was near the Mid-Autumn Festival, and many leaves had already turned yellow. One of them gradually broke free of its hold and drifted down in the wind.
In that moment, all that remained in Ding Songyan's eyes was this tree, this leaf, this gust of wind, and himself.
This was a world unto itself.
Gazing intently, Ding Songyan followed the drifting fallen leaf, step by step, moving forward.
The leaf landed right where the Xiaoming Sect's boundary marker stood. Ding Songyan crouched down and studied its veins intently, watching as a column of ants crawled across it in neat order.
The two disciples guarding the boundary marker exchanged a glance and both shook their heads with amusement.
The direct disciple newly taken in by Sect Master Tao was witty, bold, warmhearted, and unassuming—good in every way, except that he loved to let his spirit roam beyond the heavens and often did inexplicable things.
Before they could exchange a word, a disciple who had been guarding the foot of the mountain came hurrying over, leading a man.
The man wore a dark zhiduo robe and a xiaoyao kerchief, stood a full eight chi tall, and was not old in years, yet his face had a rugged, ancient look and a weathered air beyond his age. The skin of his hands had a strange, translucent quality.
He swept a glance over the Xiaoming Sect disciples guarding the boundary marker, and his gaze fell on Ding Songyan behind them, who was poking at the ants' marching path with his finger. He frowned in puzzlement.
"Please announce me. Pan Yunzhou of the Pan family of Dongyuan Prefecture in Baozhou has urgent business and requests an audience with Sect Master Tao." The man withdrew his gaze and bowed to the two Xiaoming Sect disciples before him.
Chapter 69