Chapter Nineteen: The Road Back to the Mountain

Sometimes, people are inevitably like this—even when their own hearts are troubled, they still worry about others. Old Su was such a man. The wine flask in his hand was not particularly large, and with the way he drank, it would not last long. He had always held his liquor well, but circumstances mattered. When sorrow weighed upon his heart and he drank quickly, even he could succumb to drunkenness. At least now, his vision was blurred and hazy, his demeanor clouded and confused. Eventually, he could barely keep his eyes open. Yet perhaps this was for the best—he could sleep for a while, and thus escape reality for a moment. After all, that was the true purpose of drinking.

“Send me away, but what about you?” Han Tanyi was somewhat perplexed by her words. In truth, it was not just her words; even Shui Linglong herself was a mystery to him. Though his time in the Blue Lotus Sect had been short—not even ten hours if counted from the moment he lost consciousness last night—his heart felt unsettled. Aside from the peculiar sect leader, Shui Lianhua, none resembled those infamous villains spoken of in legend. Especially the woman before him: from any angle, she possessed a delicate elegance, entirely unassociated with words like demon or fiend. This thought made the youth’s gaze linger on her face. The red mark, though small, was striking against her snow-white skin. Noticing Han Tanyi’s eyes fixed upon her hand, Shui Linglong instinctively drew back, suddenly understanding what he meant by his unfinished words. She smiled gently, seemingly content with his concern, but the smile was fleeting, quickly replaced by sorrow.

“You needn’t worry about that. Though my mother is stern and brooks no defiance, I am still her daughter. No matter how angry she becomes, she’ll only scold me to vent her temper; she won’t do anything worse. Once her rage subsides, it will pass. I’ll leave now—perhaps I will visit you again in a few days.”

With these words, she hurriedly turned away from him, her eyes blinking as if to escape something. She paused briefly, then strode off, leaving Han Tanyi no chance to respond. Her steps were swift, yet the faster she went, the greater her fear—that if she faltered in her resolve, she might stop, and then, if her heart’s defenses crumbled, she would lose control. Such moments of collapse could be permitted, but never before others—especially not this man. Fortunately, the pavilion was not far from the corner; it was but an instant’s walk, yet in Shui Linglong’s eyes, it felt like an eternity.

Han Tanyi wished to say something more, yet could not find the words. He could only watch as the woman receded into the distance, his heart filled with bittersweet emotion. Indeed, had fate not led him to meet Butterfly first, but instead Shui Linglong, perhaps he might have loved her. But such thoughts were best kept to oneself; voicing them would only add to the sorrow. When her figure finally vanished around the corner, the youth’s gaze returned to the water’s surface. The wind had ceased, and the waters lay still, without a ripple. At that moment, Han Tanyi sighed softly, mumbling to himself, “Once I leave this place, everything will return to how it was, won’t it?”

Such doubts were destined to go unanswered. Even Han Tanyi himself could not guarantee he would truly forget this woman. Yet as with all things, only by trying could he know. The courtyard was empty now; he walked slowly toward the room he had previously occupied. His legs still tingled with numbness; it would likely take two or three days before he fully recovered. He left, but someone remained—hiding at the corner, watching him depart. In her eyes, tears shimmered.

“If you had steeled your heart yesterday and killed him, you wouldn’t be so sorrowful now, would you? Others may be confused, but Shui Linglong—how could you be so as well? I’ve never seen this side of you. Today truly opened my eyes!” The person lingering was, of course, Shui Linglong. Her gaze never truly left Han Tanyi, even as tears blurred her vision. She continued to watch until a familiar voice sounded behind her, abruptly pulling her from her reverie. Turning around, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve to steady her emotions before finally speaking, “It’s you. Why are you here?”

At the foot of Qilian Mountain, approaching from Jinjiang City, the slopes were not high, but even so, the mountain paths were rugged from lack of travelers. Jagged stones jutted out, and even as one walked, there was a slight discomfort beneath the feet. For ordinary folk, climbing such a path would be arduous. Moreover, the road was flanked by thick trees whose dense foliage blocked the sunlight, making the place gloomy even in the bright afternoon. The atmosphere felt oppressive, and standing within it, one could not help but feel a tinge of fear. Who knew what lurked in the grass on either side of the road—a snake, perhaps, or a venomous spider?

In the past, Qiu Wan’er would never have dared walk such a path alone. Though her martial skills were not insignificant, and wild beasts posed no real threat, she was, after all, a young woman and could not help but worry. Yet today, her steps were swift. When the heart is troubled, even one’s temperament changes—a curious phenomenon. Since she was determined, the few hundred meters of ascent amounted to little more than a brief exertion. Within an hour, she could see the gates of the Qilian Sect.

Not grand, nor few in number, the buildings were simple, constructed from local timber and stone, following the lay of the land. There was little ornamentation, and most retained their original appearance. Yet from a glance, there were over twenty rooms, and despite the limited space, it bustled with activity. This was where Qiu Wan’er had grown up. In truth, neither she nor her senior brother Han Tanyi, nor any of the disciples, were anything but orphans. The Daoist Tianji had taken them in, taught them martial arts—at first, only two or three, but over time, the sect had grown to its present size.

They were people with tragic yet fortunate fates, and their camaraderie was natural. Qiu Wan’er, being younger and a girl, was doted upon by all—her senior brothers and sisters treated her as a cherished little sister. Hence, she developed her mischievous and playful nature, and even the master had no way to discipline her. Reaching home should have drawn her in with a sense of belonging, making her eager to rush back, but as she stepped forward, hesitation crept into her heart.

At her feet was a fork in the road, like the branches of a tree—distinct but leading to different destinations. Qiu Wan’er knew them well: to the right, the path led to the Qilian Sect; to the left, it wound toward the rear mountain valley. In the past, she would have chosen the right without hesitation, for in the valley lived someone she preferred not to meet—a woman. Even “preferred not to” was an understatement; “disliked” was more accurate. Yet today, she wanted to see for herself.

“If Senior Brother returned first, he would surely go to the valley to see Butterfly. Butterfly, butterfly—always flaunting her beauty. Hmph! For Senior Brother’s sake, I won’t scold her. If I went home now, Master would surely ask about Senior Brother. I could explain my absence as playfulness, but what about him? Forget it; I’ll go to the valley. If Senior Brother is there, we can return together.” The little girl mused quietly. Though reluctant, her mind was made up, and she could not resist her own decision. Perhaps from anxiety, her steps on the left path slowed noticeably; the further she went, the slower she became. At the mountain bend, she paused, able to see the valley and the small, conspicuous wooden hut within.

“Why am I going there? Silly Senior Brother, foolish Senior Brother, rotten Senior Brother—he didn’t wait for me and went alone. Isn’t he going to see Butterfly? I’ll let him see her all he wants. I’ll just go home and let Master deal with him! Stealing the Night Pearl—what nerve!”