Chương 50: Lìchūn: Ascend 2

The outing comes on a clear afternoon with thin wind and a sky so pale it looks washed too many times. Liu Yinhua is on her way to training when she realises she is early. This is new enough that she stops walking for a moment and considers whether something has gone wrong. She has eaten. She has packed water. Her bow is strung and checked. Her quiver sits properly.

The small pill box is not with her, because Tang Mingxia would probably sense the poor decision from across the sect and arrive with a lecture tucked into her sleeve. She has her short knife, extra cord, a folded cloth, and a small packet of dried fruit Xie Lianqiu made her take. Well, not made, perhaps. Placed in her hand with an expression that suggested refusal would be ill advised? Made. The yard is already occupied when she arrives, not by drills, but by preparation.

Xie Lianqiu is checking arrows with brisk little movements, rejecting one and setting it aside. Shen Yuanzhou is crouched near a pack, counting something under his breath and losing count each time A'Ying hops closer to inspect his work. Chi Yanluo stands beside Duan Xueheng over a small rough map weighted at the corners with stones. Duan Xueheng has the expression he wears when something has already gone wrong in imagination and he is deciding whether to let the real world know. Xu Qinghe is there too.

They stand a little apart from the others, medical satchel held in both hands, sleeves tied back, hair pinned simply and securely. They look less frightened than Liu Yinhua expected and more as if they have spent the morning making lists in their head and are unhappy with how many items remain uncertain. Their eyes find Liu Yinhua at once, and Liu Yinhua bows first. Xu Qinghe returns it, too quick and then corrected halfway through. Xie Lianqiu looks up from her arrows.

"Good, you're here!"

"I am early," she says, perhaps a little contrite.

"I am appreciating it before it vanishes."

"It may not vanish."

"It will if Shen Yuanzhou teaches you his habits."

"I am on time when it matters," Shen Yuanzhou says, still crouched. A'Ying pecks the edge of his sleeve. He looks down.

"No, you are not helping!" The bird pecks again.

"She is helping," Chi Yanluo says mildly.

"She is stealing."

"She is testing your grip."

"She took my glove last week!"

"And you learned." Shen Yuanzhou pauses.

"That is a very generous view of events." Chi Yanluo smiles. It is small, easy, and familiar, the sort of smile a person makes when the irritation belongs to home. Liu Yinhua looks away before she stares too long, or begins to long. Duan Xueheng taps the map.

"We have a task."

"An actual one?" Liu Yinhua asks, turning to him.

"Unless Chi Yanluo has begun drawing imaginary valleys."

"I would make them more defensible," Chi Yanluo says, mock offended.

"The medical hall posted a collection request this morning," Duan Xueheng continues, ignoring him.

"Most first-years avoided it because the area is awkward and the reward is split by usable materials, not by head count." Xu Qinghe shifts their satchel higher on one shoulder.

"It is for red-throat thorn lizards," they say. Their voice is quiet, but steadier than it had been in the medical hall.

"Venom sacs if intact. Throat glands if not scorched. Scales from the neck and back. Also feverleaf if we find it near the rocks."

"Not scorched," Xie Lianqiu says, looking at Liu Yinhua. Liu Yinhua looks back.

"I will attempt to restrain my deep desire to ruin the useful parts." This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"You say that now."

"I am wounded." Shen Yuanzhou stands, pack finally closed.

"There are also sun-bitter roots in the same wash, according to one of the second-years who came through yesterday."

"According to a second-year who sold you the tip," Duan Xueheng says.

"For a favour!"

"That is worse."

"It was a very small favour."

"What favour?" Shen Yuanzhou's expression brightens in the wrong way.

"I may need someone to say I was with them during the second half of tomorrow's inscription lecture."

"No," Chi Yanluo says.

"It was worth asking." Liu Yinhua glances at Xu Qinghe, who is watching them with a careful expression, perhaps trying to decide if this is normal.

"It is always like this," Liu Yinhua says. Xu Qinghe looks relieved and more worried at the same time, as Chi Yanluo folds the map and tucks it into his sleeve.

"It is a short outing. That is the point. We test pace, formation, response to minor injury, and whether we can work around Xu Qinghe." Xu Qinghe's mouth presses flat. Not offended, exactly, but Liu Yinhua can tell they have noted the wording there. Chi Yanluo turns to them.

"If we do anything rude, say so." Xu Qinghe blinks, and Xie Lianqiu's expression warms in quick approval before she looks down to fuss with her arrows again. Liu Yinhua feels an odd, tight satisfaction. Chi Yanluo had listened. Not only to the question about who kept the back, but to what sat underneath it. Xu Qinghe nods.

"I will say so," they demur. Duan Xueheng gestures toward the gate with two fingers.

"Route is simple. West path, lower pine steps, and then the dry wash beyond the old kiln stones. If there are no lizards, we collect plants and return. If there are too many lizards, we return. If another group is already there, we assess before deciding whether to share the area or leave."

"Or steal their lizards," Shen Yuanzhou says.

"No," Chi Yanluo says.

"What if the lizards prefer us?"

"No."

"What if the other group is rude?" Xie Lianqiu puts her rejected arrow into his pack.

"Then we are better-looking while leaving."

"That is rather hard to argue with..." Xu Qinghe makes a small sound, not quite a laugh. It bolsters Liu Yinhua's confidence greatly about this whole thing though. They leave the yard in loose formation rather than the tight one they would use under pressure. Chi Yanluo and Duan Xueheng take the front at first, speaking quietly over the map and the route. Xie Lianqiu walks a little behind and to the right, where she can see ahead without being blocked. Shen Yuanzhou ranges with visible effort not to range too far.

Xu Qinghe walks near the middle with Liu Yinhua, satchel strap crossing one shoulder, hands free now after Chi Yanluo had made them adjust it twice for running. A'Ying circles above them for the first stretch, then vanishes toward the western roofs with a cry that sounds far too pleased with itself. The sect changes as they move outward. The inner paths are swept stone, carved railings, training yards, courtyards, low walls with spirit lamps set into them.

Then the paths thin, as stone gives way to packed earth and root-broken steps. The smell of incense fades under pine resin, sun-warmed dust, and damp leaf rot. Liu Yinhua feels the change through her feet, through the new connected strength in her legs, through the small adjustments her body makes before she has fully asked for them. She keeps pace more easily than she expects. The path dips, turns, climbs again toward the lower pine steps, and her body moves through it with quiet competence. Not grace. Not yet.

But when loose gravel shifts under her left foot, her ankle catches and returns. When a root rises from the path, she clears it without breaking breath. Qi moves with the effort, not in a formal circulation, only a gentle support through calves, hips, spine. It would be easy to grow drunk on this, so naturally Liu Yinhua tries very hard not to. Xu Qinghe notices her looking at her own hands halfway down a slope and says, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Liu Yinhua says, then, because that answer feels too smooth, "I am still getting used to it."

"Wood Middle?"

"Yes." Xu Qinghe nods, glancing briefly at Liu Yinhua's stance.

"You are not limping today," they note.

"I was limping?"

"Not much." Liu Yinhua looks at them, and Xu Qinghe goes pink around the ears.

"I meant it clinically."

"That is worse."

"Oh." Liu Yinhua smiles before Xu Qinghe can look properly stricken, and after a moment, Xu Qinghe's shoulders loosen. Ahead, Shen Yuanzhou turns backward to walk a few steps in reverse.

"Xu Qinghe, are you comfortable with the pace?"

"Yes."

"You can say if not."

"I know."

"Good."

"You will trip if you keep walking backward."

"I almost never trip." Duan Xueheng says, without looking back, "Three times this week."

"That is almost never compared to how many steps I took!"

"Turn around." Shen Yuanzhou turns around. Liu Yinhua glances at Xu Qinghe again. This time, they do laugh, barely, into their sleeve. The dry wash lies beyond the old kiln stones. It is smaller than Liu Yinhua expected. A shallow cut through the land where seasonal rain must run hard enough to expose pale stone beneath the soil, where scrub grows thick along the edges, thorny and silver-green. Flat rocks catch the afternoon sun in long warm shelves.

Beyond them, the ground dips toward a stand of pines and a patch of yellowing grass. The old kiln stones sit half-collapsed at the top of the wash, blackened from some past use and webbed with moss in the cracks. No beasts leap out, which is a little disappointing. Duan Xueheng crouches at the edge of the wash and touches two fingers to the dust. Chi Yanluo stands above him, looking across the rocks. Xie Lianqiu slides an arrow free but does not nock it yet.

Shen Yuanzhou has gone still in that bright, alert way of his, all humour tucked away without being discarded. Xu Qinghe takes one step closer to the centre of the group. Liu Yinhua feels the formation settle around them. She moves half a step to Xu Qinghe's left without being told, giving Xie Lianqiu a clear line past her shoulder. Duan Xueheng glances back once, notices, and says nothing. Chi Yanluo lifts one hand. They stop.

At first, Liu Yinhua hears only wind moving through scrub and the distant cry of some ordinary bird. Then something scratches under the sound. Dry claws on stone. A faint scrape. Another. A narrow red head appears between two sunlit rocks, throat pouch bright as a drop of blood. Then a second. Then a third, smaller, with thorn-like scales raised along its spine. Shen Yuanzhou's smile appears slowly, as Xie Lianqiu nocks her arrow. Xu Qinghe breathes in, quiet and steady.

Chi Yanluo does not look back when he says, "Clean materials, yes?" Liu Yinhua draws her bow, and her sleeve casts a narrow shadow over the arrowhead. The sun answers, hidden and bright.