In the alley, Zhang Rongfang watched the direction in which Xiao Qingying and her companion left, until their figures completely vanished from sight, and then turned to leave.
On the way, he occasionally encountered disciples wearing light blue robes with white clothing over them.
Every ti, he constantly stopped, stood aside, yielding the path and lowering his head in salute.
Inside the Qinghe Palace, disciples are divided into cultivating disciples and labor disciples.
Strictly speaking, labor disciples are considered temporary workers and can be dismissed at any ti.
But cultivating disciples are different, so the rules of etiquette are extrely strict.
If there is any breach of etiquette, at the least they face contemplation, doing the hardest labor, at worst they are beaten with dozens of strokes and even directly beaten to death and thrown off the mountain.
Zhang Rongfang quickly arrived at the washing room and began, along with about a dozen other laborers, to sort through the dirty clothes brought in.
Clothing, Daoist crowns, flat shoes, high boots, belts, and other items needing cleaning were thrown here haphazardly.
Toiling through the day, he finally finished resting when it was almost half-past ten at night.
Once finished, Zhang Rongfang imdiately left, carrying the money he had in his chest and headed straight for the Daoist registry office.
Not long after, he erged from the office, his silver purse thoroughly drained, and the long accrued two taels of silver coins now only a little remaining.
With a sigh of relief, he looked ahead into the distance.
The Qinghe Palace at night was illuminated everywhere by oil lamps and candlelight.
From the direction of the three great halls and the Daoist temple still ca slight chanting sounds; it was not the voices of Daoists, but so devout pilgrims staying over in the palace chanting sutras.
The sutra being recited was the Infinite Heart Sutra.
Zhang Rongfang followed the cobblestone path to the furthest disciple housing area.
The evening drum sounds floated from afar, alternating between strength and weakness with the wind.
Alongside the sounds brought by the wind ca the aroma of so kind of roasted at.
Involuntarily, Zhang Rongfang swallowed; the piece of black bread he had eaten in the cafeteria this afternoon wasn’t enough to fill the gap in his teeth.
The als for labor disciples consisted of two black bread pieces per al, a plate of mixed pickles, and a bowl of egg soup which showed the bottom of the bowl at a glance.
Each bread was only half the size of a fist; it might barely suffice for soone inactive, but completely inadequate for labor disciples needing to do hard labor.
Passing a cliff platform, Zhang Rongfang paused briefly, turning his gaze downward from the platform.
Below the mountain, black clouds spread out, while a crescent moon cast its gentle glow; distant mountains stood silent, with the wind howling through them.
Two noblen draped in sable were also standing in a corner on the right side of the platform, speaking softly, perhaps enjoying the moon, or conversing their hearts.
Zhang Rongfang borrowed the palace’s lights to glance at them, noticing the brown fur of the sable cloaks glistening slightly, slick and glossy under the light.
He had always thought sable cloaks were purple, but now it seed there was no sign of purple at all.
"What are you doing loitering here? Don’t disturb the layn!" At this mont, a squad of patrolling Daoists walked past, reprimanding in low voices.
Among them, the leader, tall and strong with a face full of black beard, carried a lantern in one hand and a long stick in the other.
From afar, he seed like a mountain tiger, his gaze fierce, exuding considerable authority.
Zhang Rongfang sighed quietly in his heart. Labor disciples have no rights...
Outwardly, however, he promptly bowed in salute, not neglecting etiquette.
"Yes. I will return imdiately." he replied.
The tall and strong Daoist had the title Qi Mountain and was leading the disciples during this patrol period.
Zhang Rongfang had encountered him several tis before, leaving a deep impression on him.
This person stood over two ters tall, with a thick waist and broad shoulders, sturdy limbs full of power, having once held an advantage in a one-to-three spar in the Daoist field.
Qi Mountain Daoist nodded, watching Zhang Rongfang quickening his steps toward the labor disciples’ housing area before shifting his gaze to continue patrolling.
In the blink of an eye, half a month had passed.
During this half-month, Zhang Rongfang traveled daily between the washing room, Daoist field, cafeteria, and disciple housing area.
Everyday als were dry and had no richness, causing him not to notice any signs of accumulating attributes.
He knew that each ti he accumulated attributes, he would sense a slight warmth gathering within his body.
But once too much was consud, this accumulation of warmth weakened noticeably.
Over ten days, Zhang Rongfang had to wash large buckets of clothes daily, consuming significant energy.
He understood that he must find a way out of this situation.
Yet it was not without good news. After spending money, during the second round of labor disciples being eliminated and sent down the mountain, his na was not among them.
This allowed Zhang Rongfang to breathe a sigh of relief.
The Daoist registry was highly valued in the Great Spirit; if he could ascend higher later, his treatnt would greatly improve.
Ti flowed day by day, and quickly, more than half a month had passed.
Qinghe Palace had sent off a batch of distinguished guests who ca for a tea party, starting the yearly selection and examination of the cultivating disciples anew.
Watching his attribute bar showing no increase, still at zero, Zhang Rongfang realized more clearly that he couldn’t waste ti anymore.
But for the mont, he had no good solution.
*
*
*
April, 1183.
Zhang Rongfang carried two buckets of clothes, proceeding along the mountain road towards the drying field at the back mountain.
The sky was faintly bright, and the Qinghe Palace, rectangular in structure, had the drying field at its back adjacent to mountain forest stone walls, located outside the palace walls.
Aside from the Daoists coming to dry clothes, hardly anyone else ca here.
All around were bare woods and piles of pale rocks.
Zhang Rongfang walked a few steps and rested a bit. On the one hand, the paths here were hard to walk, and on the other, the mountain mist was heavy, making it difficult to see ahead.
Every ti at such monts, he heard senior brothers and sisters in the laundry room say there might be mountain monkeys coming out to steal clothes.
So he had to be extra careful.
When drying clothes, soone must be watching. This ti Zhang Rongfang was lucky to get this relatively leisurely job.
Two barrels of clothes weighed sixty pounds, and back and forth he’d have to carry at least fifteen barrels, and this was just so of the robes.
He took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and prepared to continue forward.
At that mont, from the mist to his left-front, faint voices were heard.
"...didn’t co, how co? Could it be that she suspected you before?" A hushed young male voice said.
"I don’t know... probably not, she was even confiding in last night..." another female voice replied with so panic.
"No matter what, this ti when you go to town for supplies, you must create an opportunity, put this thing into her gourd before leaving..." the male voice whispered as much as possible.
Zhang Rongfang’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first ti he overheard soone speaking privately, but this ti... there seed to be so problem.
In the Daoist Palace, because of the wind, the sound from a dozen ters away could sowhat be heard, even if lowered.
And the people involved often wouldn’t notice.
Zhang Rongfang imdiately stopped, slowly backing away.
This place usually had no people, and since they were having a secret conversation, if he were discovered, the consequences might be bad.
Then he gradually heard so instructions.
Such matters he didn’t want to manage, nor did he have the capability, but just as he intended to turn and leave, suddenly a na pierced his ear.
Xiao Qingying!
Zhang Rongfang stopped, his eyes flickering.
After pausing, he continued to retreat for a distance, and then deliberately humd a Dao scripture, carrying the clothes forward.
The sound drifted forward, and quickly upon reaching the previous position, he indeed heard no more voices.
Clearly, those two engaged in secret conversation had heard him approaching and left early.
Zhang Rongfang continued on his way, pondering in his heart.
He didn’t know who the speakers were, but he rembered the voice. Moreover, the conversation ntioned drugging during a trip to town, so it seed Xiao Qingying might be targeted on so trip to town.
Therefore, as long as he found out when she would go to town, he could secretly warn her.
After passing the ssage, if anything happened, on one hand, he could repay Xiao Qingying for the favor, and on the other, perhaps even...
Zhang Rongfang kept his expression unchanged and went to the drying ground as usual, helped another disciple place all the clothes neatly on the drying racks in rows.
He didn’t imdiately report the matter, continuing to guard the drying ground, eating the black buns he brought as dry food until the sun set in the afternoon before packing the clothes and heading back.
After a busy day, until nightfall when he finished his howork and just as the evening drum was about to sound.
Zhang Rongfang hurriedly got up from the Dao arena and headed towards Xiao Rong, who was about to leave.
Xiao Rong was the Daoist responsible for all miscellaneous disciples’ lessons, and his status was higher than typical cultivation disciples, equivalent to a steward in Qinghe Palace. Only below the Palace Master, Supervisor, and Hall Master.
He was also Xiao Qingying’s biological father.
Xiao Rong, with a full beard on his face, always carried a wine gourd, though it rarely contained much wine.
Rumor had it he was a genuine drunkard, yet rarely was he seen drinking.
At this mont, Xiao Rong saw a miscellaneous disciple on the Dao arena coming toward him quickly. He paused to wait.
"What’s the matter?"
Zhang Rongfang first cupped his hands in salute, then rose and said, "Disciple Zhang Rongfang, greets Master Mingguang."
"Speak, the drum will soon sound," Xiao Rong said gently, holding no grudge against miscellaneous disciples.
His Dao na was also Mingguang, officially recognized as a Master, and thus addressed with respect as Master Mingguang.
"It’s like this, earlier today, when the disciple went to the back mountain to dry clothes..." Zhang Rongfang did not conceal anything and truthfully relayed everything he heard.
As for judgnt, he believed Xiao Rong had his own determinations.
As Zhang Rongfang recounted bit by bit, Xiao Rong’s initially casual expression gradually turned grave.
When Zhang Rongfang finished speaking, Xiao Rong pondered for a mont, glanced around at the already dispersed miscellaneous disciples, and motioned with his hand.
"Are you sure you heard correctly?"
"I am sure!" Zhang Rongfang nodded earnestly.
"If you hear the voice from the morning again, can you identify it?" Xiao Rong asked.
"I should be able to! I can’t be completely sure," Zhang Rongfang nodded again.
Xiao Rong showed a thoughtful look. Then he carefully appraised the reporting disciple before him.
"This matter is of great importance. Think it through; if you falsely accuse other disciples, you’ll endure fifty strokes, with your physique, there’s essentially no way to survive that," he spoke again.
"The disciple dares not utter a single false word," Zhang Rongfang said solemnly. "In fact, previously Senior Sister Xiao Qingying had once helped in an alley near the Profound Heart Hall. The disciple has always rembered that. Originally, if it were soone else, the disciple might not dare or rashly co forward, but hearing that it involved Senior Sister Xiao, the disciple dared not neglect it."
Zhang Rongfang’s expression was sincere and straightforward, whether in his past life or now, his character remained the sa; he rembered all matters of gratitude clearly. Repaynt for kindness was certain.
Thus, his words ca from the heart, spoken firmly and decidedly.
Hearing this, Xiao Rong’s eyes showed slight emotion. The background of the miscellaneous disciples wasn’t great, and finding soone like the person before him who was articulate, clear-minded, and honorable was extrely rare.
Among miscellaneous disciples, most were the abandoned children sent from nearby towns to acquire Daoist records.
Many had been trained in serving people before arrival, but literacy, articulate speech, and clear thinking were few.
In these tis, not everyone had the privilege of being literate, even wealthy farrs or households with the leisure funds needed ti and energy for this.
Not to ntion having such a sense of duty and gratitude...
User Comments
0 comments from readers