Chapter 34 — Ten Thousand Bats

Zhang Qingyue was taken aback for a moment, then recognized her as the beautiful young woman who had argued about the sleeping fish at dinner. She was still in that same water-green dress, her skin like snow under the moonlight, of a peerless purity and loveliness, like a fairy maiden.

The girl put the flower she had just picked to her nose and breathed in deeply; an enraptured expression rose on her face, and with it a loveliness that was nothing short of breathtaking. And the flower, before her exquisite face, seemed to bloom all the brighter.

Yet from the depths of Zhang Qingyue's heart an indefinable anger welled up. Frowning, he said, "That flower was blooming perfectly well. Why did you have to pick it?"

The green-clad girl's bright eyes wheeled; her glance, like water, slid over Zhang Qingyue. "I picked this flower," she said coolly, "and that is the flower's good fortune. That I should smell its fragrance is a fate this flower cultivated over three lifetimes. A worldly man like you—how could you possibly understand?"

Zhang Qingyue was dumbfounded. Never in his life had he heard anything so absurd. Shaking his head, he said, "Once you've picked it, the flower's very life is gone. How could it be glad?"

The green-clad girl gave him a sidelong look. "You're not a flower. How do you know it isn't glad?"

Hearing such sheer unreason from the woman, Zhang Qingyue's anger only deepened. "You're not a flower either," he said, "so how do you know it's glad? For all you know, this flower is in agony right now. Ah, look—there's water on it. I'll bet it's crying from the pain."

The green-clad girl visibly froze for a moment, then burst into a fit of giggling. It was as beautiful and dazzling as a hundred flowers blooming at once, and it nearly struck Zhang Qingyue dumb.

"Flower tears? Ha, flower tears! This is the first time in my life I've heard a grown man call dew the tears of a flower. I'm dying of laughter!"

Zhang Qingyue flushed red and stammered, unable to get a word out. But seeing how the girl was bent double with laughter, his face burned, and he forced himself to say, "So—so what if it is?"

To his surprise, this only made the girl laugh harder, and the sight of him made it worse still. Her clear, bell-like laughter echoed through the quiet, shadowy garden, lending it a touch of warmth.

Zhang Qingyue was furious. He wanted to say something but could not find the words. Looking at the woman's delighted smile, he stamped his foot in pique and turned to go.

He had not gone two steps when he suddenly heard the green-clad girl behind him stifle her laughter. Her tone, though, still carried a trace of amusement. "Hey—wait a moment."

Zhang Qingyue had come out tonight in a good mood, but after running into this woman it had turned thoroughly sour. Hearing her call out now put him in a fresh fit of irritation, and he could not help turning his head. "My name isn't 'Hey.' Who are you calling?"

The girl was taken aback, and the smile vanished from her face at once; the look she gave Zhang Qingyue seemed to have turned a few degrees colder, as though few people had ever spoken back to her like that. But a moment later she seemed to think better of it. Though she did not recover that radiant smile, her tone was still fairly gentle. "Oh. Then what are you called?"

The words rushed out of Zhang Qingyue's mouth: "I'm—" He choked, then gave a huff. "Why should I tell you?"

The green-clad girl's face turned grave, and she looked somewhat angry. But when she saw Zhang Qingyue's sulky expression, like a little boy in a snit, she could not help bursting into giggles again.

That laugh utterly dissolved the severity she had just mustered. Against the moonlight and the fragrance that filled the garden, the beautiful woman's face was all smiles—as though she knew it was not quite proper, and shook her head trying to hold it in, yet still she laughed.

It was as if some innocence from long ago had come back to life tonight.

Moonlight like water spilled softly over her shoulders and cheeks, revealing a loveliness that stirred the heart.

Zhang Qingyue did not know when he had begun to stare, spellbound.

The girl laughed a while, and when she saw Zhang Qingyue staring at her, she gave a little "hmph"—and, far from blushing like an ordinary girl, said outright, "Am I pretty?"

Zhang Qingyue started, as though caught red-handed in some theft, and felt deeply mortified. Yet under the girl's gaze, soft as water, he felt there was nowhere to flee. "I—you—er—you, pretty!"

The moment the words left his mouth, Zhang Qingyue himself was stunned, and a strange, indefinable flavor welled up in his heart. The girl, however, seemed not to mind at all. A faint smile on her face, she said, "I thought so. From the time I was little, who hasn't said I was pretty? You men—you're all the same."

For all her youth, she spoke as though she had weathered the world's storms. Zhang Qingyue's anger surged, and he was about to retort, but a casual glance showed him her bright eyes and white teeth as she stood alone in the moonlight, and there was something faintly familiar about her. At once he remembered the lovely figure of his elder martial sister that he had seen with his own eyes on Canglan Mountain, by the banks of the Green Water Pool. In that instant he suddenly lost all appetite for the exchange and could summon no more spirit. He glanced once more at the green-clad girl, sighed softly, said not a word, and turned to walk away.

"Hey," came the call from behind him after a few steps. Zhang Qingyue frowned and turned around to look at the green-clad girl.

She had narrowed her eyes slightly, and her moist lips seemed to press together a little, as though pondering something, but the air had suddenly fallen silent.

"What's your name?" she asked, just as before, and in her eyes his reflection floated.

But Zhang Qingyue abruptly drew back. All the anger of a moment ago had dissolved in an instant, as if before this figure even a little wrath were improper. He avoided that soft gaze, and with a faint timidity that he himself found unsettling, said, "Zhang Qingyue."

Then he hurried off, looking rather as though he were fleeing in defeat.

Head down, striding fast, he had just rounded a bend in the winding path when a dark figure suddenly appeared ahead of him. In that shadowy garden, one would hardly have made it out without coming close.

He nearly could not stop himself in time; luckily his reflexes were quick, and he pulled up just short of the figure. In the darkness, a pair of bright yet serene eyes appeared before him.

They were far too close. Zhang Qingyue jumped, hurriedly stepped back, and only then made out that this was the veiled woman who had sat beside the green-clad girl at dinner. She was still veiled now, but she had changed into a black silk gown, and in the night she was almost like a ghost.

Zhang Qingyue steadied himself, still a little breathless, and caught a faint scent—he could not tell whether it was the fragrance of the garden or of the woman he had just stood close to.

His heart gave a leap, and he felt that coming out tonight had been a mistake. Mumbling "Excuse me," he walked past the veiled woman and made for his room.

From first to last the veiled woman said not a word, only standing quietly and watching the youth with her eyes. After Zhang Qingyue had passed her, she slowly turned to watch his departing figure.

For a long while, until her figure had almost melted into the darkness of the shadowy garden, she turned and walked deeper into the garden. Soon she saw the green-clad girl, still standing where she had been, toying with a picked flower in her hand.

The green-clad girl looked up without surprise and smiled. "Aunt You, you're back."