Volume One: The Scroll of New Rain Chapter Three: Quietly, Qiao Qiao

The noise behind the boulder suddenly grew louder, and among the clamor, many voices could be heard calling, “Teacher!” Ye Mingke stood up and climbed atop the large rock; sure enough, he saw the teacher and the others in charge of the academy’s entrance examination approaching.

He turned around, crouched on the rock, and gazed down at the girl below.

“Are you here for the academy entrance exam, too?” Ye Mingke asked her.

The girl lifted her face to look at him and nodded.

“My name is Ye Mingke.”

The boy crouched seriously atop the stone, his eyes clear and bright.

“Bai Qiaoqiao.”

The girl tilted her head slightly as she looked up at him, her answer equally earnest.

“Mingke, hurry over! The exam’s about to begin!” called Tao Yao from the other side of the stone.

“I’ll go now. We’ll see each other again soon, Qiaoqiao.” Ye Mingke, waving as he backed away, jumped down and ran toward Tao Yao.

“Tao Yao, do you know a girl named Bai Qiaoqiao in town?” Ye Mingke asked as they walked toward the crowd.

“Bai Qiaoqiao? She’s the daughter of the village’s dye house owner, I think,” Tao Yao replied. “But I hear she’s not very healthy, so she rarely goes out. Hardly anyone knows her. Was that the girl you were talking to just now?”

“Yes. Qiaoqiao,” Ye Mingke replied thoughtfully.

As they spoke, they reached the gathering crowd.

Master Zhuang stood in the center, with a female disciple and a male disciple at his side. His two disciples were organizing the students into teams. When Ye Mingke and Tao Yao approached, the male disciple assigned them to different groups.

Ye Mingke glanced around and soon understood why he and Tao Yao had been separated. The examinees were grouped by height.

Tao Yao’s group was filled with boys of fourteen or fifteen, most of whom had failed the entrance exam several times and were older—except for Tao Yao himself. He looked tall and sturdy but was only a year older than Mingke.

On Ye Mingke’s side, the group consisted mainly of girls or boys who had just turned nine and were taking the exam for the first time.

This year’s exam probably involved physical challenges, Ye Mingke guessed. He looked toward Master Zhuang, who seemed to sense his gaze and looked back, but only briefly before turning away.

Ye Mingke felt both nervous and pleased. At least this year, the teacher hadn’t dismissed him outright as he had before. If the teacher truly disliked him, with his authority, he would have had no choice but to leave.

After all, the academy had been founded solely because of the teacher. The village used to have no school, but after the village chief invited Master Zhuang to settle here, the academy was established.

Thanks to Master Zhuang’s arrival, this remote town could now learn the arts of the Dao and many other subjects.

Once the teams were organized, the teacher’s female disciple stepped in front of the still-chattering children.

“Everyone, quiet down.”

She raised her hands high, signaling for their attention. She was perhaps thirteen or fourteen, dressed in red, her hair tied in a ponytail, exuding a spirited air and an impressive presence before the crowd.

The children instinctively quieted at her words.

“I am Song Yiwan, the teacher’s disciple. This is my senior brother, Song Qing. Today, we’ll be organizing the examination. Now, I will announce the content of this year’s entrance test on behalf of our teacher.”

The children held their breath, listening with nervous anticipation.

“This year’s test is simple. Across the stream lies a mountain. Starting from the designated point, if you can cross the peak and reach the foot on the other side before tomorrow morning, you pass.”

The test sounded remarkably easy. The children of this town were mischievous as monkeys, and they knew every mountain and stream in the vicinity. The little peak across the brook was hardly unfamiliar; running there and back in a day was nothing. Just reaching the far side seemed too simple.

Simple enough that many children broke into happy grins.

Simple enough that Ye Mingke felt a twinge of unease.

Unusual simplicity often hid trouble. If the test were really just a formality, it would be meaningless. But the girl in red offered no further explanation.

Ye Mingke looked at the loosely gathered children around him, rapped his knuckles lightly on his head, and decided not to worry. After all, climbing mountains was his specialty—he carried firewood daily as if he bore a mountain on his back. Even if there were hidden challenges, as long as he did better than most, he’d be fine.

It was the classic case of not needing to outrun the bear—just needing to outrun the others.

Thinking of Aunt Long’s words, he couldn’t help but grin, walking confidently among the younger children toward the starting point, following Song Qing. He even raised a little fist to encourage Tao Yao in the other group, but a tall boy walked by and blocked him completely from view.

“Being taller isn’t such a big deal,” Mingke muttered, his face darkening as his moment of pride was dashed and he lowered his head.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the slender figure in white—the girl he’d just met. Amid the shifting crowd, most nervous children naturally clustered together, but the girl and Mingke each stood alone, islands in the stream of people.

The girl also noticed him. Mingke looked away awkwardly, and she lowered her head. The silent crowd moved on, like a flowing river.

In the current, the two of them drew nearer, whether by intention or chance—like solitary wild geese recognizing a kindred spirit and hoping to cross mountains and seas together.

Some people can always spot others like themselves at first glance in a crowd, as if those who share the same peculiarities are drawn together, even if each is but a drop in the vast ocean.

The group halted at the base of a slope. Song Qing, dressed in white, turned with a gentle smile to face the children.

“You’ll start from this slope, and your goal is the famous Bullfrog Rock at the far foot of the mountain. Off you go, you little rascals. If you dawdle until nightfall, you might get a surprise.”

He smiled politely, but there was something sly in his expression that made people uneasy.

“What kind of surprise?” a bolder child asked.

“Why don’t you guess?” Song Qing’s eyes narrowed with amusement, but the boy shivered at his look, muttered he didn’t know, and hurried off with the others.

Once most children had set off, Song Qing, still wearing his signature smile, turned and left.

Mingke surveyed the slope and terrain, figured out his direction, and prepared to head out. Suddenly, he sensed something and turned.

He saw the girl, standing alone in the shadow of some bushes not far away. Why hadn’t she started yet? Concerned, Mingke walked a little closer, but the girl quickly wiped her eyes with her hand and dashed into the forest.

She seemed to be crying. Mingke felt worried, but he was unsure—after all, they weren’t really friends, and his concern might seem presumptuous.

He grimaced, then turned and began his own ascent.

He took a little-known path, one that villagers seldom used. It wasn’t a trail worn by feet but a nearly natural passage through the woods, one he only knew because he spent half his days gathering firewood in the mountains.

The trail was rougher than the main paths the villagers used, but Mingke instinctively felt the usual route would be filled with traps set by the academy’s masters.

“The teacher is a scholar, not a mountain dweller like me. He probably doesn’t know about this path—maybe this time, I’ll really get through the mountain without trouble,” Mingke thought with a hint of pride.

The slope was steep. Mingke scrambled up, agile as a monkey, swinging from vines and branches, using his strength and familiarity with the terrain.

But before long, everything around him began to blur. He stopped, rubbed his eyes, thinking sweat had clouded his vision—but in that instant, the world grew even more indistinct.

Fog was rising.

Startled, Mingke looked ahead. The trees not far away became nothing but vague shadows, and a white mist blanketed the entire forest as if conjured from thin air. Fog was not uncommon in these hills.

But it was usually only at dawn, and the sun had already burned it away. Why had it returned so suddenly?

Could it be the teacher’s doing—changing the mountain’s weather at will? If so, that Daoist magic was truly impressive! Mingke felt no fear; instead, he grew excited.

He slowed his pace, since his chosen path was treacherous. After a while, he suddenly stopped—he thought he heard a quiet sobbing nearby.

The sound was faint, behind him and shrouded in mist. He couldn’t see anyone. But hearing it, he remembered the girl wiping her eyes before entering the woods, remembered her clear and earnest reply.

“Bai Qiaoqiao.”

We told each other our names—maybe that counts as being friends… or maybe not, but…

Mingke hesitated, but his feet moved backward, toward the source of the crying. He was uncertain, lacking confidence, but he couldn’t help walking in that direction.

Some people can always notice certain others in a crowd at first glance, as if those who share the same peculiarities are drawn together, even if each is but a drop in the vast ocean.

Perhaps, at heart, he was a child too afraid of loneliness, yet lonely for too long. For every person who might become his friend, he would give everything without hesitation, instinctively drawing closer.

Just as when he first met Tao Yao—because Tao Yao was the first not to call him a monster, he had taken on a dozen bullies in the town for Tao Yao’s sake.

He was a child too afraid of loneliness, yet lonely for too long.