Zhang Qingyue climbed the mountain and came to the bamboo grove so familiar to him. Everywhere the slopes were green, tier upon tier, and where the mountain wind passed, the sea of bamboo rose and fell like ocean waves, a magnificent sight that at once broadened his heart.

He drew a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, stretched his limbs, and walked into the grove with his billhook. The place he headed for now was not the same as when he had first come three years ago: it lay in the deepest part of the grove, where the great bamboo stood tall and the wood was all the harder.

A faint morning mist drifted among the trees like gossamer, and on the green leaves flanking the path hung glistening dewdrops, beautiful and translucent.

After a while he found himself in a green ocean. The black-joint bamboo here mostly soared high, their branches and leaves thick, piercing straight into the sky, and light filtered down through the gaps, leaving patches of shadow on the ground. Zhang Qingyue looked this way and that, picked out a large black-joint stalk, took its measure, and raised his blade to cut.

"Thup"—a sudden muffled knock, and Zhang Qingyue felt a stab of pain at his brow: something had struck him on the forehead. He looked down and saw a pine cone rolling on the ground. Black-joint bamboo grew all around here, and bamboo shoots there were in plenty, but pine cones there were certainly none.

He thought for a moment, and a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. He looked about and called out loudly, "Senior sister, is that you?"

His voice carried far through the grove, but for a long while no one answered. Zhang Qingyue knew his senior sister was mischievous by nature and loved to tease, and he was about to call again when suddenly his brow smarted once more—a sharp pain, for another pine cone had struck him—and from overhead came a shrill chattering, "Chee chee chee chee!"

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zhang Qingyue looked up and saw that a grey-furred monkey had at some point climbed onto the black-joint bamboo. It clutched several pine cones in its paws, its tail hooked over a branch so that it hung upside down, and it screeched with laughter, "Chee chee chee chee," looking thoroughly delighted at his misfortune.

Zhang Qingyue was dumbfounded. In three years he had never seen a monkey in the bamboo grove, and Mount Dazhu was almost entirely bamboo, save for a wild stand of pines and cypresses in a deep ravine on the shaded side. The monkey must live there, he supposed; how it had come up the mountain today, he could not guess.

Mount Dazhu was steep and perilous. Though it did not overtop the clouds as Jietian Peak did, it still pierced into the sea of cloud, and from its foot upward there was scarcely a path to climb; most disciples of the Canglan Sect came and went by flight. Zhang Qingyue's cultivation was shallow, and apart from cutting bamboo each day, he had often heard his senior brothers talk: in the deep ravine behind Mount Dazhu, pines and cypresses grew into a wild forest, secluded and unfathomable, seldom trodden by human feet. In years past, an ancestor of the Dazhu Peak lineage had ridden a sword to search that ravine, but it was only primeval forest, with nothing strange about it—only more than a few fierce beasts and venomous insects, which never left the valley, so that through the years all had remained peaceful.

As he mused, he saw the monkey lift a paw, and his heart skipped; he dodged aside at once, and sure enough another pine cone came smashing down—had he not dodged, he would have suffered again.

Seeing him slip away, the grey monkey gave two sharp cries, its face creased with anger, as though it blamed Zhang Qingyue for dodging when he should not have.

Zhang Qingyue made a face at the monkey, paid it no further mind, and walked on, thinking that a monkey which took pleasure in pelting people was a rare thing indeed—a truly ignorant beast. He had taken two steps when he heard a whistling behind his ear; too late to dodge, "thup"—a hard pine cone struck the back of his head. The blow was no light one; Zhang Qingyue's vision went black, and he could not help crying out.

The monkey clapped its hands and laughed on its branch, swaying to and fro in great glee. Zhang Qingyue was furious. He rushed over and shook the bamboo with all his might; the great black-joint stalk swung wildly left and right, but the grey monkey only wound its tail about the trunk and let itself be swung, wholly unafraid, laughing "chee chee chee" without cease.

Seeing he could do nothing to the monkey, Zhang Qingyue grew angrier still. He drew his billhook and hacked at the bamboo savagely. The monkey was not frightened in the least; it merely watched him from the stalk with great interest.

Zhang Qingyue chopped until his head ran with sweat, and at last had cut seven or eight parts through. Success was close at hand when he heard a shrill cry from above; he looked up and saw the grey monkey swing its tail, launch itself into the air, and leap to another black-joint bamboo nearby—then "pat," it flung down yet another pine cone.

Zhang Qingyue was beside himself. Not caring whether the monkey understood him or not, he pointed at it and shouted, "If you've got any guts, come down here!"

The grey monkey scratched its head, tilted its face, and pondered a long while—evidently it still could not grasp what guts had to do with anything. It only burst out laughing and made faces at Zhang Qingyue with all its might.

Zhang Qingyue was half dead with rage and utterly helpless. That day he barely managed to finish his task, but his head was struck seven or eight times by the monkey, and throbbed with pain.

Seething, Zhang Qingyue went down the mountain in a sulk, ignoring the monkey. But the creature had taken a liking to the game: for several mornings running it waited in the grove, and whenever Zhang Qingyue came to cut bamboo it took delight in pelting him, hugely pleased by the sight of his fury.

One evening before supper, Tian Lingsu drew Zhang Qingyue aside and asked quietly, "Xiaofan, what's happened to your head?"

For days the grey monkey had tormented him, leaving his head black and blue and throbbing with pain, but he felt it too shameful to admit he had been made a fool of by a monkey, so he had told no one. Now that his senior sister asked, he hesitated, and at last told her.

Tian Lingsu pursed her red lips and could not help laughing aloud; two little dimples appeared at her cheeks, and she looked breathtakingly lovely. Zhang Qingyue, as though she were mocking him—or for some other reason—felt his face flush for no cause and lowered his head.

Tian Lingsu slapped him on the shoulder with hearty familiarity. "Don't worry, little junior brother. These past days Mother has had me spending more time cultivating in the Taiji Cave, preparing for the 'Seven Veins Martial Meet' two years from now—I never thought a monkey would get the better of you. Don't fret. Tomorrow I'll go up the mountain with you and teach that wicked monkey a lesson."

Her tone was that of an elder humoring a child, but Zhang Qingyue had grown used to it since he was small; he smiled wryly and thought nothing of it.

The next morning Tian Lingsu rose early as promised, and went up the back mountain with Zhang Qingyue.

A cool breeze blew gently between the hills. Tian Lingsu wore red from head to toe, just as she had the first time she went up with Zhang Qingyue to cut bamboo, and she skipped along ahead of him. Zhang Qingyue followed behind, watching the beautiful girl before him drift lightly through the mountains like a red cloud, and on the mountain wind there seemed to come a faint, delicate fragrance.

His heart wandered, and suddenly a thought rose in him: how wonderful it would be if they could walk on like this forever.