Volume 2: Pale Clouds, Faint Moon

Chapter 1: Ten Years of Traces, Ten Years of Heart

The moon casts a faint yellow glow; the fence casts no shadow. The breeze through the pines carries the sweet scent of nearby flowers. Leaning back in my bamboo chair, nestled in my senior sister’s arms, I gaze lazily at the crescent moon, its curve like a scythe. The Valley of Departed Hearts remains eternally green.

My senior sister gently smooths my hair and glances over at our master, who sits on a rock drinking tea with Master Heliao under the moonlight. “Qingqing,” she says, “I truly don’t understand. Grandpa told you not to leave the valley for ten years, and here you are, obediently staying put. It’s already been nine and a half years—by now, I’d have long run off!”

“Little Bird Senior Sister,” I prop myself up halfway and smile at her, “Ten years of cold and heat, ten autumns gone by, ten years of traces, ten years of heart.” I reach out to gently stroke the camellia standing gracefully between the cracks of the stone. “In the snow, it smiles until late spring. In this dusty world, what can endure as steadfastly as you?”

“Sister,” she tilts her head, rolling her eyes mischievously, “You’ve become more and more like Grandpa, haven’t you? How about tonight, while the boring monk and Grandpa are deep in conversation, we sneak out with a bundle?”

I raise my eyebrows, examining her from head to toe. She glances at Master and whispers conspiratorially, “I’ve arranged to meet Liu Xunhe at midnight outside the valley. As long as we follow that guy, we won’t have to worry about food or clothing!”

“We?” I smirk at her. “It’s for you, isn’t it? What’s wrong? Couldn’t handle being confined for just ten days after breaking the Holy Maiden statue at the Jade Palace last time? You troublemaker—planning to drag that playboy into mischief again?”

“Shh!” She claps a hand over my mouth and nervously looks toward Master. “Sister! Keep your voice down! If Grandpa finds out, he’ll lock me up in the Qiao Cave.”

I pry her fingers away, blink innocently, and say nonchalantly, “I love the Qiao Cave. It’s warm in winter and cool in summer, and the underground lake is perfect for practicing martial arts. Don’t you remember? I spent two whole years there.”

“Mmm! You’re crazy—only you could stand it!” She pokes my head, grinning. “But this time, the place Liu Xunhe and I are going to is no ordinary spot.” She pauses dramatically, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, and whispers teasingly, “This place has something to do with you too, Qingqing~”

I recline in the bamboo chair, tilt my head back to gaze at the moon, sip some green tea, and ignore her. After a moment, she stamps her foot impatiently and pinches me lightly. “How boring! You’re just like Brother—no curiosity at all!”

I lower my head, smiling faintly. “What’s the matter? Can’t hold back anymore? Giving up on the suspense?”

She snatches the bamboo cup from my hands and glares at me. “Stupid Qingqing! Fine, I’ll be kind and tell you. Tonight, Liu Xunhe and I are sneaking into the Palace of King Jing!”

I straighten up, narrowing my eyes slightly. “King Jing’s palace?”

“Mm-hmm!” She throws an arm around my shoulders, her grin sly. “We plan to sneak in under the cover of night and shave bald the Empress Dowager Wen’s hair—to get back at Brother!” She frowns deeply. “If Brother hadn’t said he’s let go of the past, and if Grandpa hadn’t forbidden it, I’d have stormed in and killed that old witch ages ago!”

Our senior brother was originally surnamed Wu, the eldest son of the late King Jing, Wu Ding. His mother was Consort Ru, King Jing’s most beloved concubine. At the time, both Consort Ru and Consort Wen were pregnant, and King Jing, overjoyed, announced at the state banquet that whichever bore a prince first would be crowned Queen, and their son would become Crown Prince. That very night, Consort Ru went into labor and gave birth to a son at midnight. But before King Jing could officially designate her as Queen, Consort Ru mysteriously passed away. The next day, Consort Wen also gave birth to a son. She then volunteered to take on the responsibility of raising the Crown Prince, Wu Yu. Our master had once been indebted to Ru Shangshu, Consort Ru’s father, and was entrusted by him to investigate the matter secretly within the palace. There, he witnessed one of Consort Wen’s attendants attempting to stab a long needle into the back of Brother’s neck. Master intervened skillfully, saving Brother’s life when it hung by a thread. The next day, news spread throughout the palace: the Crown Prince had fallen gravely ill and died. Ru Shangshu tearfully begged Master to take Brother away from the court’s turmoil. Five years later, when Master returned with Brother to the Kingdom of Jing to visit his maternal grandfather, they found that the Ru family estate had become a desolate ruin. The following year, the Ruis were imprisoned for allegedly slandering Empress Wen. All male members over thirteen were executed, and the women were sold into servitude. Their family shattered, scattered to the winds.

When Brother was eight, King Jing Wu Ding passed away, posthumously titled Wen. His second son, Wu Ling, born of Empress Wen, ascended the throne. Empress Dowager Wen, citing her son’s youth, assumed regency and consolidated power. Five years into Wu Ling’s reign, Jing and Yong conspired together, aided by corrupt ministers, and in the Battle of Qiancheng, forced my parents to their deaths. By this reckoning, Empress Dowager Wen is also my enemy.

“Qingqing, Qingqing.” I feel myself being shaken vigorously and snap out of my reverie. Turning my head, I see Master Heliao gazing at me with a faint smile. I quickly rise to my feet and bow respectfully. “Forgive me for my rudeness, Master. May I ask what wisdom you wish to impart?”

Heliao strokes his long white brows calmly. “Just now, your master and I were discussing the crescent moon on the horizon. On a whim, I thought to ask you, Yunqing, to compose a poem. Would you oblige?”

I smile faintly and look far into the distance. A thin crescent moon hangs in the sky, delicate like a slender beauty loosening her belt, gazing tenderly upon the earth. The night sky is tinged with a faint blue, resembling a deep pool, making the moon appear even more slender.

“The night flows like water, the waning moon hooks the stars. The wind dreams, caressing the pines and stirring emotions. Flower shadows filter through the curtains, laughing at the void. Secluded in the mountains, I watch emotions fade. Spring sorrow does not weigh on my brow—I discuss scriptures and recite hymns.” I lift my head to gaze at the moon and chuckle softly. “Bright as a mirror, clear as water, evening by evening, month by month, they blend. Zhang Chang’s brush lightly sketches, reminiscent of childhood days in the eastern city. Clear light flows, shyly reflecting paired shadows seated by the window. The cold moon is silent, lamenting the battlefield’s startled wild geese.”

Feeling a gentle tug on my sleeve, I lower my head. My senior sister frowns, subtly nodding toward Master, signaling me to watch my words. I gently reclaim my sleeve, smile indifferently, and walk over to the cluster of mountain grass, plucking a long leaf absently. With a sigh, my tone shifts suddenly: “The sea of illusion sinks, yet the path to the next life lingers unforgettable. The icy wheel reflects azure skies, secretly chasing fleeting jade. Pointing to the moon rabbit, I ask but one question: ‘Through the long night, sleepless beneath the moon, for whom do I yearn?’“

“Qingqing!” My senior sister winks exaggeratedly at me. I wave my sleeve dismissively, my clear voice ringing out as I glance at Master and Heliao. “Beneath the pine shade, I sit with an open face, asking the heavens: How many families drift in foreign lands? How many couples share a canopy bed? How many siblings gather around a bamboo cot? How many parents remain honored in the high hall? The jade hourglass strikes, the flower moon grows hazy, and the dew thickens with quiet longing. For nine years, I’ve listened to the wind by the willows, meeting only in dreams.”

Having spoken my heart, I relax my brow. Master strokes his beard and nods approvingly. Heliao’s expression remains serene. “Yunqing, do you know why I asked you to compose a poem?”

I nod and smile. “Qingqing understands.”

“You know, and still you spoke like that!” My senior sister shoots me a glare, exasperated. “So stupid! Such a stubborn blockhead! A wooden fish brain!”

Heliao chuckles warmly. “Oh? What about Lianyan?”

My senior sister rolls her eyes, pouting as she looks at Master and Heliao. “The big monk only asked Qingqing to compose a poem about the moon. He just wanted her to talk about the moon, not ramble on about missing loved ones.” She sets her jaw determinedly and declares loudly, “Besides, the big monk and Grandpa were clearly trying to trick Sister into revealing her feelings through poetry. Qingqing’s so dumb—knowing full well their intentions, she still fell into the trap!” She glares at me reproachfully, as if blaming me for my lack of resistance.

Heliao bursts into laughter. “Lianyan, do you really think of me as such a cunning person?” My senior sister starts to retort but catches sight of Master’s stern gaze and subsides, sulking quietly in her seat. “Lianyan, my purpose in assigning this task was simply to let Yunqing contemplate the moon.”

“Contemplate... the moon?” My senior sister looks at Heliao in confusion, then raises an eyebrow at the crescent moon hanging in the sky. “The full moon on the fifteenth is like an egg yolk, and the crescent moon on the third is like an egg yolk with two bites taken out of it. Isn’t that simple? Big monk, how do you contemplate it?”

Heliao smiles silently, raising a single finger and pointing it at the waxing crescent moon.

My senior sister looks at the finger, then at the moon, furrowing her brow. She rests her chin in her hand, lost in thought for a long time. Finally, she clicks her tongue. “Why did the big monk raise his finger?”

Heliao speaks softly: “The moon.”

My senior sister pinches her cheek, thinking for a moment. “Is the big monk playing with me? I ask about the moon, and you raise your finger. I ask about the finger, and you talk about the moon!” She widens her eyes, wrinkling her nose in dissatisfaction.

Heliao pays no heed to her impertinence, stroking his beard and smiling kindly at me. “What do you think, Yunqing?”

I slowly settle back into the bamboo chair, turning my head to address my senior sister. “Senior Sister, what you’re experiencing is called ‘forgetting the moon while fixating on the finger.’ To explore the true essence of the moon, Master didn’t speak—he merely raised his finger. Yet you became fixated on this external object, obsessing over the finger and forgetting the original intent. When Master reminded you of the moon, he was trying to awaken you.”

“Just as when Master asked me to compose a poem about the moon. The poem itself is merely an external form—the true intent is to reveal the heart. If one becomes trapped in formality and conceals their inner self, that is ‘forgetting the moon while fixating on the finger’—a form of attachment.” Bowing deeply to Heliao and Master, I conclude humbly.

“Ho ho~ Huaijin, your intention has been fulfilled.” Heliao smiles and speaks. “Five years ago, during the Zen inquiry, Yunqing hesitated and concealed her true feelings. Now, she can fearlessly reflect on the past and express her emotions openly. This shows she has let go of her attachments.” With that, he traces a character in the air with his finger. “Yunqing, can you see this character clearly?”

I reply calmly: “It is the character for ‘hate.’“

“Do you understand its meaning?” Heliao gazes at me kindly.

I rise to my feet, bowing my head humbly. “Please enlighten me, Master.”

“The character for hate consists of a heart on the left and the radical ‘gen’ on the right. ‘Gen’ means ‘to stop’ or ‘to harden.’ To still the heart and make it rigid is hate. When hatred resides in the heart, affection fades, great love becomes elusive, and one strays from the righteous path. Remember this, always.”

I carefully commit Master’s explanation to memory and bow deeply in gratitude. “Thank you for your teachings, Master.”

“Yunqing.” A deep voice resonates, and I look up in surprise. Master’s silver hair gleams like that of a celestial immortal, his features serene. “Accompany Lianyan out of the valley.”

I stare at Master in disbelief, my lips parting but unable to form words.

“Grandpa! Is it true? Can we really go?” My senior sister leaps to her feet, grabbing my hand excitedly. “Didn’t you say ten years? There are still six months left—will you really let Sister go?”

Master picks up the bamboo cup, takes a small sip, and speaks indifferently. “Lianyan, the winds of fate are clear, and your mind’s eye is sharp. Ten years was merely a symbolic number.” Satisfied, he gazes at me and nods with a faint smile. “Yunqing, you have finally understood my painstaking efforts. You have not disappointed me.”

My eyes grow moist, and with a thud, I kneel to the ground, my voice trembling. “Qingqing thanks Master for your nurturing and care.”

“Good child, rise.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve and slowly stand up. Master’s piercing gaze meets mine. “Yunqing, I never intended for you to abandon your quest for vengeance. After all, the blood debts you carry are beyond ordinary comprehension. To say ‘let go’ with empty words would be too frivolous. These past nine years, I forbade Wuyu and Lianyan from mentioning the conflicts of the southern kingdoms in your presence, so that you could focus on cultivating your spirit and honing your skills. Once your wings are strong and your heart steady, I will release you from the valley to fulfill your desires.”

“Master...” Silent tears fall, unnoticed.

“These past nine years, the four southern kingdoms have undergone tumultuous changes. In the second year after we entered the valley, Jing and Yong launched an invasion, driving King You, Qin Chu, southward. King You sought aid from King Qing, Ling Zhun, who sent General Gezan to assist. Ostensibly helping You reclaim territory, in reality, it was akin to inviting wolves into the inner court. By the fourth year, under pressure from the three kingdoms, You’s territory had shrunk to a mere speck. Meanwhile, Jing, once the weakest of the six kingdoms, rose to become a major power in the south. In the fifth year, Qin Chu was placed under house arrest by the Qian clan and soon passed away in bitterness. His son, Qin Miao, ascended the throne, indulging in luxury and seeking refuge in a corner of the land. In the sixth year, the Qians colluded with Yong, forcing Qin Miao to his death. Qian Qiaozhi was then enfeoffed by the King of Yong as Marquis of Golden Wealth.”

Frowning deeply, I urgently ask, “Why did the King of Yong grant that treacherous minister a title? Has he forgotten the lessons of King You?”

Master strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Yunqing, do you know why You managed to survive under the pressure of the three kingdoms for five years?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“There are three reasons. First, Qing, Yong, and Jing each harbored ulterior motives, all vying to dominate You’s territory. For years, they schemed against one another, engaging in endless warfare. Second, You was wealthy, with taxes flowing from the southern regions. After the capital moved south, the treasury was full, and military provisions abundant. The southwestern provinces, coveted by all three kingdoms, were fertile lands. The Qian clan, having long operated in Fengzhou, was a powerful family of great influence. To seize You’s valuable territory, the King of Yong offered incentives to secure Qian Qiaozhi’s wealth and status.”

I sigh. So that treacherous minister holds a lifeline. Still, his miserable existence should rightfully end at my hands.

“Third, the majority of soldiers who died in You’s defeats were hastily recruited militia, while the Liu family’s hundred-thousand-strong army remained unscathed. Politically, they negotiated; militarily, they preserved their strength. This allowed You to cling to life for five years before internal strife erupted among the royal relatives. A young general emerged from Qing, defeating the Liu army in a single battle, slaying Liu Zhongyi on the field, and mercifully releasing the captured soldiers. The hundred-thousand-strong army surrendered en masse. Qing swiftly occupied the southeastern provinces, forming a counterbalance against Yong. In the seventh year, You perished as a nation, its territory divided among the three kingdoms. Yong claimed the merchant-rich southwestern lands beyond the Lei River, while Qing seized the southeastern granaries. Jing, being the weakest, obtained only the northern provinces.”

Finishing, Master gazes at me impassively. “For this journey out of the valley, I won’t restrain you. Follow your heart—do whatever you wish. Wuyu is traveling in the south; consult him if you need help. If danger arises, return to the valley, and I will assist you.”

Warmth floods my heart, and I choke out, “Thank... Master...”

“Grandpa, you’re biased!” My senior sister stomps her foot petulantly. “As soon as Little Bird leaves, you warn her not to come back if she causes trouble. But when Sister gets into trouble, you shield her. Biased, biased—you’re so biased!”

Master slams the bamboo cup onto the table and glares sidelong at my senior sister. “Yunqing knows better than to act recklessly. Unlike you, who turns the valley upside down every time you step out, relying on Wuyu to clean up your messes. If you cause trouble again this time, don’t bother coming back!”

My senior sister pouts silently, mouthing words without sound.

“Lianyan!” Master’s deep voice cuts through the air. “Yunqing has been out of touch with worldly affairs for many years. Look after her when you’re outside.”

“Yes.” My senior sister pulls me close, winking happily. “Sister, I’ll show you the world! Outside, there’s delicious food and endless fun—far better than anything in the valley.” She flashes a challenging glance at Master.

“Old Mute.” Ignoring my senior sister’s childish antics, Master summons the valley steward. “Release Liu Xunhe.”

My senior sister freezes, then flutters to Master’s side, massaging his legs coaxingly. “Grandpa, what’s wrong? Did you catch Little Crane?” She blinks innocently, feigning naivety. Master continues sipping his tea in silence. I suppress a laugh and offer a gentle reminder: “Senior Sister, don’t you remember? Every month, the stone array at the valley entrance changes. That dandy... uh...” I glance cautiously at Master and hurriedly correct myself, “Brother Liu probably got lost in the array.”

My senior sister lets out a sudden “Oh!” of realization, then jumps up and drags me into a jog. “Hurry! Hurry! No more dawdling—the wonderful jianghu awaits us~”

Her crisp voice echoes through the valley, where peaks loom on either side, casting dark shadows. Looking up, cliffs tower on both sides, their walls steep and unbroken. All is quiet save for the rustling of bamboo and whispering pines. The layered ridges stretch westward, but within the Valley of Departed Hearts, hearts remain intertwined. Facing the cool breeze, I feel a sense of liberation. Taking a deep breath, I leap forward, riding the moonlight into the night.

Pure Land of Dharma Flow, pale moon, clear clouds.

Spring fades, songs precede.

Ten thousand miles of red dust, the jianghu vast.

Years pass in the mountains, hearts linger in the valley.