The Past and The Future

The sun was already high in the sky by the time Yang Qinghui staggered out of bed, groaning and clutching her head.

"Madam!" A-Tian hurried into the room. "Are you alright?"

"Ugh…" Yang Qinghui squinted at her blearily. "Jus' hungover."

"Please go sit down, I'll get some sour plum soup."

Yang Qinghui nodded, then regretted it as her head spun.

Once A-Tian hurried away, Yang Qinghui noticed she was still wearing her fine daxiushan robe – she must have tumbled into bed without changing.

Moving gingerly, she peeled off the robes, laying them out on her bed. When she was down to her undergarments, she decided a bath was in order before she dressed again.

Ah, good timing, she thought as she heard A-Tian approaching. I'll ask her to draw a bath.

"A-Tian, could you – " she called, turning around.

She cut herself off, seeing A-Tian's expression: eyes wide and face pale.

Yang Qinghui frowned. "Are you alright?"

The tray in A-Tian's hands shook. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out.

"Hey, calm down," Yang Qinghui spoke soothingly, stepping forward. She gently pried the tray from A-Tian's hands and set it down. "What's wrong?"

"Y-your back…" A-Tian lifted her hands to her mouth and tears pooled in her eyes. "Who could do such a thing?"

"My back?" Yang Qinghui repeated, bewildered. She twisted around, peering at her back in the mirror. "What do you – ?"

Her jaw dropped. Goosebumps erupted over her arms.

Vicious scars, thick and jagged, crossed her back, from her shoulders to her hips. The marks were long-healed, but still glaring. Some were worse than others, but there were at least a dozen.

Yang Qinghui brushed her fingers over one of the worse ones. The slash was uneven, as though the same place had been struck multiple times.

With how fast I heal, it must have been, she realized. It would take a lot to scar like this.

"I'm- I'm sorry, madam," A-Tian hastily wiped her tears away. "I was surprised, but you don't need to explain anything."

"It's alright," Yang Qinghui mumbled, distracted. She stepped away from the mirror, rubbing her hands over her goosebump-covered arms. She forced a smile. "It's in the past." Is it? "Thanks for bringing the plum soup," she added, changing the subject.

"O-oh, of course, madam."

Yang Qinghui picked up the bowl and drained the sour soup in one gulp. "Whew, I feel better already! Could you draw me a bath, please, A-Tian?" she asked, setting the bowl back down.

"Right away, madam." A-Tian bowed and took the tray and bowl away, still looking troubled. 

Yang Qinghui stewed over the issue in her bath. She begged the System for any clue, but the stupid screen remained silent. Sulking, she slid down in the water until she was submerged up to her neck.

"Where's Cucumber-bro?" she muttered to herself. "I'm all alone out here."

"Solitaire software available," The System revealed pulling up a screen of cards.

"Oh, for real?"

--- 

After her bath and a successful round of Solitaire, Yang Qinghui found her way to the dining hall, feeling peckish. Fortunately, a buffet of cold dishes had been arranged on a side table. Yang Qinghui helped herself, and sat at her usual table, on the platform.

Six other tables were lined up on the main floor, and three disciples sat at one of the middle tables. Their conversation had quickly died down, as soon as Yang Qinghui had arrived. They began eating quicker, as usual, and soon got up to leave.

"Wait," Yang Qinghui called, setting down her cup of tea.

The disciples froze, halfway to the door.

"Come here, all of you."

As though marching to their deaths, the three disciples trudged to the base of the platform and bowed to her.

"Do you need anything, shizun?" the bravest, a tall girl, asked.

"What are your names?"

They all stared at her. Then, the girl bowed and introduced herself:

"I'm Zongyin."

"I'm… I'm Mingli, shizun."

"And I'm Guoliang."

Yang Qinghui studied the three disciples. They all seemed around fourteen or so. Zongyin was well put together, with her hair in a neat bun and a tough set to her jaw. Mingli was slight, with long hair mostly loose, and fidgeted with sleeves slightly too long for him. Guoliang seemed the least nervous, not dropping his gaze from Yang Qinghui's, and tilting his head curiously.

Yang Qinghui stood, her snack finished. She descended the stairs and sat at the table the disciples had just left.

"Come, sit with me," she invited them, smiling and patting the cushion next to her.

The three disciples exchanged a glance. Zongyin subtly lifted her shoulder in a shrug, and sat beside Yang Qinghui.

"Thank you, shizun," she said.

Guoliang sat across from Yang Qinghui, and Mingli took the farthest seat, still not meeting her eyes.

"So." Yang Qinghui cleared her throat and laced her fingers together on the table. "I know I haven't been the best shizun. No, actually, I've been a horrible one."

None of the disciples argued.

"But I want to change that," Yang Qinghui told them truthfully. She met each disciple's eyes; even Mingli glanced up in surprise. "A teacher's role is to support, guide, and nurture their students. I want to do that for each of you, and make up for these past years."

Zongyin opened her mouth, hesitated, and closed it again.

"So tell me! How goes your training? Is there anything you want to focus on? Any areas you've been struggling with?"

The disciples exchanged another group-glance. Yang Qinghui waited patiently.

Finally, Zongyin cleared her throat. "I was, uh… I was wondering if I'd be able to get my sword soon?"

"Get your sword…?" Yang Qinghui frowned. "Oh, from Wan Jian Peak? Are you ready for that?"

"Zongyin-shimei is very capable," Guoliang interjected. "She's been training intensely."

"Hm. Alright, then." Yang Qinghui smiles at Zongyin. "How about I test you this afternoon before dinner?"

Zongyin blinked in surprise, then a grin broke across her face. "Th-that would be great! Thank you so much, shizun!"

"Of course. Guoliang, Mingli? What about you?"

Guoliang was having some trouble channeling his qi, so Yang Qinghui gave him meditations and forms to try. She didn't manage to peel away Mingli's defences long enough to discover his interests or struggles, but remained optimistic.

"Alright, I've delayed you long enough," she eventually chuckled. "You three have chores and training. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Zongyin."

All three disciples stood and bowed. "Thank you, shizun," they said in near-unison, and filed out of the dining hall, whispering to each other excitedly.

As they left, Madam Meng passed them, hurrying into the dining hall. She seemed caught off-guard seeing Yang Qinghui not at her own table, but bowed and knelt beside her without hesitation.

 "My lady, we've received word from young master Hao."

"How is he?" Yang Qinghui demanded, sitting up straighter.

"He is well, and on his way back. He and the disciples sent after him should arrive tomorrow."

Yang Qinghui's shoulders relaxed, and she sighed in relief. "Good. I'll go to meet him."

"Yes, madam."

An idea struck Yang Qinghui, studying the head maid. "By the way, Madam Meng, you're pretty knowledgeable, right?"

Madam Meng blinked. "I wouldn't presume to – "

"Just hear me out, please? I've been having memory gaps, recently – don't panic," she added, as Madam Meng paled. "I'm fine. It's probably the alcohol, and I'm cutting down on my drinking. There's just some things I can't remember, and I was hoping you could help."

"Of course, madam."

"Thanks. You know," she adds, "I was wondering… there are plenty of adult cultivators on each Peak – like Zhu-xiaojie and Ji Jue. But where are Zui Xian Peak's other cultivators? It's just me and… how many disciples?"

"Twenty, madam."

"… That seems low."

Madam Meng pursed her mouth but said nothing.

"So why are there no other cultivators?" Yang Qinghui prompted.

With a sigh, Madam Meng explained: "I have only been working at this Peak for eight years, just after the new generation became Peak Lords. From what I've heard, you were the past Peak Lord's only personal disciple. After he died and you became the new Peak Lord, your fellow disciples began leaving, joining other Peaks."

Yang Qinghui wrinkled her nose. "Backstabbers. Who are they?"

"Many of them ended up with An Ding Peak."

"An Ding Peak, huh?" Yang Qinghui narrowed her eyes. "Zhuang Hao's not back until tomorrow, right? Then I'm popping over to An Ding for a bit."

"Right now?" Madam Meng asked, shocked, as Yang Qinghui stood. "I'll prepare your carriage."

"Thank you. And send word if Zhuang Hao shows up earlier, please."

"Yes, madam."

As Yang Qinghui strode out of the dining hall, she asked the System, "Who's the An Ding Peak Lord?"

"Character Profile: Shang Qinghua. An Ding Peak Lord."

Yang Qinghui tilted her head at the thumbnail picture attached to the profile. "Was he at the banquet? I don't remember seeing him." But there hadn't been any apologies, so he must've been there… and must have been avoiding Yang Qinghui. "That little weasel."

As she was fuming, she passed by a courtyard, and spotted three disciples. She stopped in her tracks.

"Hmm…" Making a decision, she cupped a hand to her mouth. "Zongyin! Guoliang! Mingli!"

The disciples looked up, startled. Yang Qinghui waved them over. They hurried up to her, glancing at each other in confusion.

"How would you three like to come with me to An Ding Peak?"

Zongyin frowned. "Shizun?"

Yang Qinghui grinned maliciously. "Let's give those nerds a good scare."