Chance To Grow

Zongyin was, indeed, incredibly capable. An impressive warrior, and more than ready for her sword.

She completed her final set of exercises and bowed to Yang Qinghui. She breathed heavily, and sweat curled her hair, but she was still not completely out of energy.

"Well done, Zongyin," Yang Qinghui said proudly. "You're ready."

Zongyin looked up with an elated grin. "Thank you, shizun!"

"This was all you," Yang Qinghui told her truthfully. She stepped forward and set a hand on her disciple's shoulder. "You've earned this."

Tears pooled in Zongyin's eyes, but she blinked them back.

"I'll speak to Wei-shixiong," Yang Qinghui promised, stepping back and smiling. "Go celebrate with your martial siblings."

"Thank you, shizun!" Zongyin sprinted away, towards the disciples' quarters.

Yang Qinghui returned to her rooms, where she wrote a letter to Wei Qingwei asking him how soon her disciple could visit Wan Jian to obtain her sword. She sent it off with a servant as a priority message, then went to the dining hall.

She paused before going in, and peeked around the doorway. Laughter and excited chatter filled the room. A dozen disciples in navy-and-silver robes ate and socialized, most of them sitting around Zongyin. She was blushing, embarrassed from all the attention, but had a rightfully proud set to her shoulders.

Smiling fondly, Yang Qinghui slipped away. She asked a servant she passed to bring a plate of food to her rooms, and spent the evening wondering what she'd say to Zhuang Hao when she saw him the next day.

---

In the overcast morning, Yang Qinghui hovered on her sword in the clouds. With her hands clasped behind her back, she watched the road below, winding up to Zui Xian Peak. Her mind was troubled, but she didn't miss the hoofbeats as they approached along the road.

Taking a deep breath, she swooped down to the road. She let herself float above the road for a moment before stepping down into the dirt and dismissing her sword.

The four horse-riders reined in their horses, startled by Yang Qinghui's sudden appearance.

"Shizun!" Zhuang Hao, at the head of the group, exclaimed.

Yang Qinghui frowned at his disheveled appearance. His hair was mussed, his robes torn and dirtied, and red scratches crossed his cheek. Dark circles dragged down his eyes.

"You three go ahead," she ordered the other disciples. "Zhuang Hao, stay."

The other three hesitated, but a subtle nod from Zhuang Hao had them reluctantly continuing on the path. Zhuang Hao dismounted, and bowed to Yang Qinghui.

"I apologize for my inadequacy, shizun. I failed to defeat the demon as I should have been able to."

"That's not – " Yang Qinghui sighed. "I'm not angry, Zhuang Hao. Not even because you took a mission above your level."

Zhuang Hao kept his head bent. "Yes, shizun," he gritted out.

"Zhuang Hao. I know… I know this doesn't make up for anything, not in the least. But… I am sorry. I'm so, so sorry for everything I've done."

Finally, Zhuang Hao raised his head. His expression was tight and disbelieving.

"I've changed. My time meditating let me understand just what a horrible shizun I've been, and I will work to become better. I swear it."

An incredulous chuckle spills from Zhuang Hao's mouth. His shoulders shake with unsteady laughter, and his eyes are wide.

"Do you even know?" he whispers. "What I've had to do to keep our Peak afloat? How hard I've worked, while you were drowning in your wine?"

"Zhuang – "

All humour evaporating, Zhuang Hao snarled, "You just locked yourself in your rooms! You left me, just me, to handle EVERYTHING!"

Yang Qinghui let him yell; he needed to release all his anger and hatred. But it crushed her heart to hear how the original Yang Qinghui had let him suffer.

"I was twelve! How could you?!" Zhuang Hao screamed, tears cascading down his cheeks. "How could you abandon us?! We needed you! I needed you!"

Abruptly, he stopped, panting. His shoulders and his hands trembled, but he still glared defiantly at Yang Qinghui.

"Thank you, I needed to hear that," she began, speaking gently. "I know I will never be able to make up for what I've done. But I will do my best – No. I will be a better teacher. To you and to all of my disciples. I swear it… on my grandmother's name. I will not abandon you again."

Zhuang Hao's glare had gradually lessened, until his expression was vulnerable and open. He truly was so young.

"I understand that you won't trust me, not for a while," Yang Qinghui continued. "And that's okay. I don't expect you to. But I promise I'll earn that trust. Is that alright?"

Sniffling, Zhuang Hao wiped his eyes and squared his shoulders. "Alright," he agreed, his stern expression back. "You'll need my help to figure everything out."

Yang Qinghui nodded. "Thank you, Hao'er. Ah, erm, is it okay if I call you that?" she asked nervously.

Zhuang Hao hesitated, then shrugged. "It's fine. Are we heading back now?"

"Sure, let's go."

Yang Qinghui and Zhuang Hao walked together, Zhuang Hao leading his horse.

"So the mission was a success in the end?" Yang Qinghui asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes. Shuang-shimei and the others helped to kill the demon. I'm sorry, again, shizun – "

"Ah, ah. Don't apologize. I understand you took the mission because I was away and you wanted to protect your martial siblings. It's admirable, but you're still young and still learning. So let's avoid that in the future."

"Yes, shizun," Zhuang Hao mumbled.

"It's a shame you missed the banquet," Yang Qinghui said, changing the subject. "There were so many disciples your age – you could've made friends."

Zhuang Hao wrinkled his nose. "I already have friends."

"Ah, yes. Fei Nianzu was asking after you."

"They were?" Zhuang Hao lurched forward, eyes wide.

"Oh?" Yang Qinghui's eyes sparkled mischieviously. "Are you two close?"

Zhuang Hao blushed. "We just talk when they come to deliver potion recipes," he mumbled.

"Potion recipes?" Yang Qinghui asked, politely dropping the former subject.

"Did you forget, shizun? We make potions as well as alcohol. Qian Cao Peak creates the recipes and brings them to us to mass produce."

"Heh-heh. I'm afraid I did forget. But," she hurried to add, seeing Zhuang Hao's disappointed face, "I'm eager to learn and start being a proper Peak Lord."

"Then we'll start as soon as we return."

"After you rest and say hello to Lu Ying," Yang Qinghui corrected.

"Right."

They continued up the path, and soon the flight of stairs emerged from the clouds that had wrapped themselves around the mountain peak. Yang Qinghui's footsteps felt lighter.

She was still concerned about the scars on her back and her past encounter with Mobei-Jun, of course. But now she had a chance to redeem herself, her character, and she would not waste it.