Chapter 11: First Descent from the Mountain

Early the next morning, just as the sky began to gray, the vermilion gates of the Chongyang Palace remained tightly shut, their hip-and-gable roofs standing silent.

However, the camera was focused on the wrong spot. It shouldn't have been on the palace gates, for at that very moment, a human figure vaulted directly over them. He moved like a wild goose, landing soundlessly. The man carried a long sword on his back, his hair styled in a Taoist knot, his right hand cradling a horsetail whisk... Does this description sound familiar? Precisely! It was a direct imitation of the Seven Masters of Quanzhen’s signature look.

He flicked his whisk lightly against his hem to brush away non-existent dust, then struck a pose. Silence spoke louder than words here... Did you think he was just trying to look cool? No! He was waiting for someone.

"Come out. Do you really expect me to personally invite both of my senior brothers to step forward?" As he spoke, he looked toward a large pine tree by the roadside. Two figures leaped down. The moment Zhang Zhiyuan landed, he circled Qiu Zhiqing several times.

"Junior Brother Qiu," he tutted, "confess honestly: did you sneak off with the Grandmaster's gear yesterday while bidding him farewell?"

Fang Zhiqi, however, wore a sour expression. His tone was laced with resentment. "Indeed. If we didn't know you were leaving today, I would have thought some venerable uncle had come out for a journey. But who vaults over the temple gates when setting out on a journey? And you, the direct disciple of the sect leader, a cultivation prodigy—it’s disgraceful! Utterly preposterous..."

Qiu Zhiqing asked Liu Zhiyuan in confusion, "What is wrong with him? Should I write a prescription for clearing heat and detoxifying to take back so you can brew it for him?"

Liu Zhiyuan chuckled. "Forget it, leave him be. If he ends up washing my laundry for two months, it’ll be more effective than any herbal remedy. But tell me, Junior Brother, that vault over the gate just now was incredibly slick! Tell me, did you hold back some secret technique when you were explaining things to us? We have a long road ahead—why don't you tell us about it now?"

Qiu Zhiqing finally understood the situation. These two scoundrels had made a bet on him, wagering whether he would walk out through the gates or leap over them. The stake was two months of laundry duty. The result was self-evident! That was why Fang Zhiqi had jumped out to criticize him, arguing that a dignified disciple of the sect leader shouldn't skip the front door.

So, take care of yourselves and stay away from gambling, everyone!

Thinking of the gate latch, which had been locked securely, he asked curiously, "How did the two of you get out?" At this, Liu Zhiyuan raised his eyebrows at Fang Zhiqi with a mischievous glint.

Fang Zhiqi, who had just been acting so righteous, suddenly gave an awkward, sheepish laugh. "We were just... worried about waking the guest-welcoming Taoist..."

There it was—the truth revealed, the injustice cleared, all plain as day.

"Same here!" Qiu Zhiqing said with shameless indifference. The three of them exchanged glances and began to cackle like villains! Welcoming guests was a tiresome job. According to the rules of the Chongyang Palace, the gates had to be opened wide at sunrise. Sometimes it was one of their junior brothers on duty, sometimes it was a wandering Taoist—like today.

As they chatted and walked toward the mountain gate, the morning glow began to appear, signaling the arrival of the purple mist from the east. Qiu Zhiqing quickly found a rock to sit cross-legged and gather the energy, taking the opportunity to share the incantation with the other two. They practiced for about a quarter of an hour when Qiu Zhiqing’s ears twitched. He stood up and headed toward the edge of the forest. The others were confused but followed close behind.

Before long, the sound of an infant crying drifted from not far away. The three exchanged glances and reached the roadside in a few strides. There, they found a white bundle, and it was from this that the crying originated.

Qiu Zhiqing quickly picked up the infant. He felt the fabric in his hands—it was extraordinary, clearly very expensive. Alas, his worldly experience was limited; in a word, he didn't recognize it.

Seeing the child in his arms still wailing, Zhang Zhiyuan stepped forward and reached out his hands. "Give her to me! I'll handle it!" The look of disdain on his face made Qiu Zhiqing want to smack him across the head. However, the slap in the face came sooner than expected...

The three of them took turns trying to soothe the baby, but to no avail.

"Is anyone there? Whose little girl has been left behind? Is anyone here?" Each soft, clear sentence radiated outward from the three of them. They called out three times, but no one answered.

Fang Zhiqi suggested, "Perhaps we should take her back to the Chongyang Palace. She can't keep crying like this. Fortunately, Junior Aunt Sun is still in the palace; she has experience raising children!"

As he spoke, he glanced at Qiu Zhiqing. Indeed, the "experience" he referred to was precisely the experience she had gained while raising Qiu Zhiqing!

Qiu Zhiqing sighed. It seemed Fang Zhiqi's resentment was quite deep today. He could only say, "If anyone hears this, come to the Chongyang Palace to find Fang Zhiqi and Liu Zhiyuan..."

There was no help for it; it seemed they couldn't leave today. They had to return to the palace first. They decided that Liu Zhiyuan, who was the most skilled in light-body techniques, would go ahead to notify Sun Bu'er while the others continued to try and soothe the child.

Yet, they tried all the way to the gates of the Chongyang Palace with no success. But the moment the little girl was in Sun Bu'er’s arms, she miraculously stopped crying.

The three of them were left between laughter and tears. Sun Bu'er scolded them, "You're grown men and you can't even take care of a child? How shameful..." The three of them were too embarrassed to talk back.

Just as they were about to return to the palace, a voice drifted from behind them: "How about you leave this little girl for me to raise?" The voice was soft, with a hint of a Wu-Yue accent, as clear and beautiful as a song.

They turned to see a slender fairy in clothes as white as snow, drifting over the treetops. As the wind blew, the bells attached to her silk sash chimed in harmony with her beautiful voice.

Recognizing her, Sun Bu'er, holding the child in her left hand and a whisk in her right, bowed. "So it is the Junior Sister from the Ancient Tomb Sect. Greetings!"

Qiu Zhiqing gave Fang Zhiqi and Liu Zhiyuan a secret look. They understood instantly and quietly shifted their positions to stand in a three-talents formation.

This was a master, far stronger than Sun Bu'er. They could only maintain such a defensive stance; if a real fight broke out, they suspected they would be lying on the ground waiting for death within ten moves.

Though the newcomer was delicate and graceful, the aura of cold detachment she projected put immense pressure on the three of them, as they feared she might strike them down if she were displeased. However, they had clearly overthought it. With just a glance at the three of them, she reached out her hand toward Sun Bu'er.

"No need for 'senior' or 'junior' sister; we aren't that close! Leave the child to me; your Quanzhen Sect cannot raise her!" The voice echoed again, sounding less vibrant and more frigid than before. Sun Bu'er did not hesitate for long before handing the child to the woman in white.

At that moment, a jade pendant fell from the swaddling clothes. Sun Bu'er reached out to catch it, but the woman was faster. With a flick and a roll of her silk sash, the pendant was in her hand. Without even looking at it, she turned and flew away. Whether it was an illusion or not, a faint "Thank you" drifted back through the air.

Sun Bu'er turned to see the three "wooden geese" still standing there. She snapped, "What are you standing there like fools for? Go on and do what you need to do!"

Liu Zhiyuan looked blankly at Qiu Zhiqing and asked, "What do we do now?"

Qiu Zhiqing replied testily, "What do you mean 'what do we do'? Morning lessons are over, go eat breakfast!" With that, he led the way toward the refectory.

Fang Zhiqi chased after him in confusion. "Weren't you supposed to head down the mountain? Why are you going to the refectory?"

"Can't a man eat breakfast before he leaves...?" The voices grew fainter, gradually swallowed by the awakening Chongyang Palace.

Half an hour later, Ma Yu looked at his beloved disciple and asked in confusion, "Did you not bid your farewells yesterday? Why are you still in the temple?"

Qiu Zhiqing hummed and hawed, rubbing his thumb and index finger together, unable to speak.

Ma Yu said with dissatisfaction, "Speak clearly! All this fidgeting—what kind of decorum is this?"

Qiu Zhiqing felt helpless. The gesture was so obvious; why couldn't his master understand?

"Well, Master, the great Su Shi once said: 'No wine or money for the journey, I offer you a cup of Bodhisattva Spring.' Bodhisattva Spring might quench thirst, but it doesn't satisfy hunger. That's the situation. Master, do you see?"

It was shameful. A young man with ideals, ready to take flight, was now reaching out for money from his elderly master... Was he to be like Kong Yiji? Was it shameful? Perhaps not...

Ma Yu shook his head and chuckled. It was his own oversight this time, and he felt bad for Qiu Zhiqing; he had probably reached the mountain gate before realizing he had no money.

Ma Yu rummaged around, much like the elders of later generations who liked to hide things in boxes tucked away in remote corners. Ma Yu was no different. From behind a stack of books in his cabinet, he unearthed a box.

He opened it to reveal a pile of copper coins and some paper underneath—what Qiu Zhiqing assumed to be the legendary "Jiaozi" currency.

Having secured his travel funds and preparing to head down the mountain, Qiu Zhiqing was intercepted by Hao Datong in front of the Chongyang Hall. Saying there were still things to deliberate, Hao grabbed him and dragged him toward the Scripture Pavilion without giving him a chance to speak.

The next day, the fifteenth of the third month, the thirteenth year of the Jiading era of the Southern Song Dynasty—it felt as if there were truly a cycle to the world. On this very same day ten years ago, he had bid farewell to the old Taoist who had cared for him so well. He had tried his best to avoid traveling on this day, yet it seemed destined...

He took one last look at the Chongyang Palace before the dawn. Like the old Taoist years before, Qiu Zhiqing whispered, "May the legacy endure, may the Tao persist!" He turned, waved farewell to the palace against the morning sun, and stepped into the rolling red dust of the world.