Chapter 15 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Pressure Behind a Name

After the meeting in the library, Diệp Sương and Cố Thanh Việt gradually became more familiar with each other's presence, although neither of them actively admitted it out loud. They often met by chance at the library on free afternoons, sometimes exchanging a few sentences about lessons, sometimes just sitting quietly reading books together without saying much.

"You're so good at fighting training, why do you still have to learn how to draw spells?" Diệp Sương asked once, when he happened to see Cố Thanh Việt practicing alone in a deserted corner of the yard. Although the shorthand strokes he drew were not as beautiful as those of his disciples, they had a precision and decisiveness typical of someone familiar with military discipline.

"My father believes that a soldier who is only good at force is not enough in this day and age," Cố Thanh Việt replied, constantly practicing. "Demon tides appear more and more frequently, more intensely over the years. An army that does not understand anything about spirit talismans will soon become obsolete before new dangers."

"Do you like learning how to draw spells?" he asked again, curious.

Cố Thanh Việt stopped and thought for a moment before answering. "I don't hate it. But I don't have talent like you. I learned it through discipline, through repeated practice, not because of any natural intuition. Maybe that's why I'm more interested in sensing Linh Mạch fluctuations than drawing spells myself — that's something I can do better than many other disciples, even those from long-standing spell-casting families."

"Sensing fluctuations in Linh Mạch?" Diệp Sương was surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Some kind of hunch passed down from my mother's side of the family," he explained, his voice somewhat reserved, as if revealing something private that was rarely shared. "I can sense the direction and intensity of an abnormal flow of Linh Mạch energy from quite a distance, even though I cannot draw a spell to deal with it myself. The teachings say that it is a rare ability, although not as showy as the ability to draw spells, but very useful when coordinating combat."

"Can you try it for me?" Diệp Sương asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Cố Thanh Việt hesitated for a moment, then nodded, closed his eyes, and raised his hands slightly in front of his face as if searching for an invisible wind. A moment later, he opened his eyes and pointed to the northeast, where a low mountain range stretched far away.

"There," he said, "there was a small spot of uneasiness, not serious, perhaps just a natural seasonal fluctuation. But its feeling was different from the rest—like an out-of-tune note in the middle of a harmonious song."

Diệp Sương looked in the direction his hand was pointing, even though she didn't feel anything special. "I've never heard anyone describe Linh Mạch as a piece of music. It sounds good."

"I'm not good at expressing myself in words," Cố Thanh Việt said, with a rare hint of shyness, "that's the closest way I can describe how I feel."

"I think it's good," Diệp Sương smiled reassuringly. "Maybe in the future, if we work together on a real case, you feel the direction and I'll draw a charm to handle it. We'll get along very well." Cố Thanh Việt looked at her, momentarily surprised by that idea, then nodded slightly, his eyes clearly showing agreement even though he didn't say it in words - as if both of them, without anyone telling the other, had secretly envisioned a future where they would stand side by side.

*

Another afternoon, while the two were sitting in a familiar corner of the library, a letter was brought to Cố Thanh Việt by a messenger from the sect — the red seal on the envelope showed that it came from the capital Lệ Dương.

Cố Thanh Việt opened the letter, skimmed through it, his face changed color slightly before quickly regaining his familiar calmness.

"What's up?" Diệp Sương asked, noticing the small change on his face.

"Nothing important," he replied, folded the letter, and put it in his shirt. "Just a letter from father."

But Diệp Sương, even though she had only known him for a short time, was sensitive enough to realize that it was not "nothing important". She didn't ask further, just quietly waited, letting him decide for himself whether he wanted to share or not.

After a while, Cố Thanh Việt spoke up, his voice deeper than usual. "My father mentioned my brother. He died on the border many years ago, in a battle with a demon."

Diệp Sương was silent, not daring to say anything, just listening.

"I don't remember much about him," Cố Thanh Việt continued, his distant eyes looking out the library window, where white clouds still drifted lazily across the mountain top. "I was a child when it happened. But my father never really got over it, and sometimes I feel... I feel like I'm living vicariously through the part of the life he no longer had the chance to live. Every accomplishment of mine, it seems, is measured by the yardstick of someone who has passed away."

This was the first time Cố Thanh Việt revealed such a deep part of himself, and Diệp Sương felt the weight of that trust, even though the two had only known each other for a short time.

"I don't know what to say to make you feel less sad," he said honestly, "but I think, you don't have to live for anyone else. You just need to live for yourself, do what you believe is right, just like how you stood up for that boy the other day." Cố Thanh Việt looked at her. There was a long silence between the two, then he nodded slightly, a faint but sincere smile flashed across his always cold face - the first smile Diệp Sương had seen from him since the day they met.

"Thank you," he said softly. "You're the first person here to tell me that, instead of just asking about my father's family background or achievements."

*

From that day on, the relationship between the two seemed to enter a different stage — no longer the usual social conversations, but a quiet, sincere trust that was gradually building. Diệp Sương found herself starting to look forward to the afternoons at the library more than before, and Cố Thanh Việt, although still remaining quiet in front of others, became much more open when they were alone.

"You and Cố Thanh Việt are really close these days," Âu Bội Nhi commented one night, when she saw Diệp Sương returning to her room with an unusually bright face.

"We're just friends," Diệp Sương replied, even though her cheeks were burning uncontrollably.

"Yes, I believe," Âu Bội Nhi smiled, her eyes full of meaning, "we're just friends but our faces are as red as a ripe gac." Diệp Sương threw a pillow at her friend, the two of them laughed and giggled until there was a knock on the door reminding them it was time to turn off the lights.

Before falling asleep, Âu Bội Nhi whispered one more sentence, her voice already drowsy. "Hey, Sương, have you noticed that Wei Bá Tuân has been looking at you with more unpleasant eyes lately? Since the day Cố Thanh Việt intervened in the matter of that boy being bullied, I see that he keeps glaring at you whenever Cố Thanh Việt is around."

"I did notice," Diệp Sương admitted, her voice low. "But I don't understand why he hates me that much. I didn't do anything to him."

"Maybe he doesn't hate you because of what you did," Âu Bội Nhi explained, her voice sleepy but still alert enough to make a sharp comment. "Maybe he hates it because you are living proof that background doesn't determine everything. For people who always rely on family background to feel superior, someone like you - no family, no support, but still getting attention, still progressing quickly - is definitely a big threat."

That comment made Diệp Sương toss and turn for a while longer before falling asleep, not because of fear, but because of a new understanding of the complex nature of relationships in this vast sect - where each person's talents, backgrounds, and even secret traumas are intertwined, creating conflicts that cannot be easily resolved with simple good will.

Lying in the darkness, Diệp Sương thought about what Cố Thanh Việt had shared, about the invisible pressure they were both carrying - she because of a rural background among famous disciples, he because he had to live for the shadow of his deceased brother - and realized that, perhaps, it was those different loneliness that silently drew the two closer together than anything else could.

Outside the window, the night wind still blew gently through the curved tiled roofs of Tông Vân Các, bringing with it the typical cold air of high mountains, and somewhere in the heart of the mountain, the Linh Mạch stream still silently flowed, bringing with it both good things and seeds of trouble that no outer sect disciple, no matter how talented, could predict at this time.