Volume Twenty-One: "How Much Dust Veils the Mortal Immortal Road" - Washing a Sword in the Silver River, Forgetting the Winds of the Five Lakes

He had never expected to run into Qiong Rong during a casual stroll through town. Overjoyed, Xing Yan hurried to smooth things over, taking out twenty taels of fine silver and giving them to the troupe master as compensation for his injuries. The man had been brimming with grievances, but at the sight of that gleaming silver, his eyes crinkled with delight, and every cloud in his sky scattered. Not only did he immediately forget his pain and order the troupe members gathering around them to stand down, he even apologized repeatedly to Qiong Tong, saying his skin was rough and his flesh thick, and asking whether he had hurt the little heroine's pearly teeth.

With the dispute settled, Xing Yan took his leave of the troupe master. Half dragging and half carrying Qiong Rong, he went with Xueyi to find a roadside tea stall beneath the shade of a plum tree. They ordered a pot of cool tea, and the three began sipping it while catching up.

At first, Xing Yan was in no hurry to speak. He simply watched Qiong Rong drink. After all that commotion, Qiong Tong seemed thoroughly thirsty. Sitting on the bench, she held her white porcelain cup in both hands, burying her rosy little face behind its rim as she slurped the cool tea. Now and then, a cool breeze swept along the sweltering July street beside her. The willow strands from the tree behind her drifted toward her ears, mingling with the loose locks of her hair swaying in the wind, as though she had adorned herself with several emerald hairpins.

Only when Qiong Rong had finished her tea and was wiping her mouth did Xing Yan ask:

"Qiong Tong, weren't you studying the Dao on Mount Kunlun? How did you find time