Liu Zun and Qing Yao ascended the Tianshan Mountain. The summit was an expanse of pure white, utterly devoid of any figures. In the vast, hazy landscape, a bamboo dwelling could be vaguely discerned. Qing Yao, holding Liu Zun’s hand, hastened towards it. They reached the bamboo house door, and a clear, melodious voice inquired,
“Is the elder Chixia present?”
After asking twice without a response, Qing Yao felt a touch of surprise.
She recalled Liu Zun mentioning that on Tianshan Mountain, besides their master, there was also a junior disciple who looked after things.
Why was there not a single soul around now?
Pondering this in her mind, she pushed open the slightly ajar bamboo door. Inside the dwelling were simple furnishings: a bamboo chair, a bamboo table, and a painting of serene ink wash on the wall.
Despite the most basic arrangement, it exuded an air of elegance and an otherworldly detachment.
Qing Yao stepped in and wiped the tabletop with her hand, immediately coating it with a thick layer of dust. It seemed no one had been there for a long time, unsettling her. Where could Chixia the Elder be?
“Liu Zun?”
She called out, turning back. Receiving no reply, she turned to see Liu Zun walking deeper into the bamboo house, lost in contemplation before a guqin. A surge of joy welled up within her. She quietly approached him from behind and softly asked,
“Do you perhaps have any impressions of this place?”
Liu Zun nodded, turning to face Qing Yao. “Something seems to flash through my mind, but I can’t quite grasp it.”
Upon hearing his words, Qing Yao was overjoyed. Though she hadn’t seen Chixia the Elder, staying here might help Liu Zun regain his memory. Thus, she decided to stay for the night, hoping to aid his recovery.
This was a place where he had lived for many years, holding a significance unlike any other.
“Liu Zun, we will stay here tonight.”
“Okay, okay, wife, tonight wife and I will stay together. No one else, just the two of us.”
Liu Zun’s attention was not on the house but shifted to Qing Yao, his voice filled with exultation.
Qing Yao rolled her eyes, ignoring him, and turned to walk to the side. Rolling up her sleeves and adjusting her robes, she fetched water and wiped the dust off the table.
Liu Zun followed her, quietly assisting her. They worked together until everything in the bamboo house was tidied, and the last vestiges of the sunset had faded from the sky.
After a busy half-day, they hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Fortunately, the mountain provided everything. Qing Yao was adept at cooking, and after some effort, she had prepared fragrant white rice and two simple dishes.
There was nothing more, yet Liu Zun ate with gusto, exclaiming with wonder as he did, “Wife, this is delicious! You made this, wife.”
He finished the bowl of white rice clean. Qing Yao had little appetite, content to watch him eat.
Though Liu Zun’s intellect was diminished, his longing for love and his dependent demeanor always reminded her of their past, of the days he spent with her.
He had been so thoughtful, so considerate. Back then, she had chosen to disregard it. Now, remembering it felt like water flowing through her heart.
After they finished eating and tidied up, Qing Yao led Liu Zun on a couple of strolls around the mountaintop. He had practiced martial arts and lived here before; there should be some traces left. Indeed, Liu Zun seemed to sense something, remaining unusually quiet throughout the night.
“Have you recalled anything at all?”
Qing Yao asked softly. Liu Zun looked up at the sky. The moon was visible tonight, a rare sight. His furrowed brow slowly relaxed, and his voice, like flowing water, spoke, “It seems I have lived here before.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Qing Yao’s spirits soared. This indicated his memory was gradually returning. As long as he fully awakened, everything would be manageable.
“Liu Zun, come, sit down. Wife will play a melody for you.”
Qing Yao drew the Phoenix Tail Qin from her back. She remembered him playing the xiao before; he was most captivating when playing the xiao. Now, she wanted to play the guqin for him.
They sat cross-legged on the ground. The cold night air was as sharp as ice. Qing Yao gently caressed the guqin. Liu Zun carefully took off his outer robe and draped it over her shoulders, then listened quietly to her music.
The zither notes echoed melodiously on the mountaintop, ethereal and distant. Bathed in moonlight, they were enveloped in a pale radiance, appearing like celestial beings from a different realm. If only it were possible, she wished they could abandon the mundane world and live this simple life forever.
As the melody ended, Qing Yao turned to look at the man beside her, who had listened with earnest concentration.
Although she knew he might not fully comprehend her music at this moment, he still listened so intently, his eyes shining brilliantly. He smiled and said softly, “Wife plays so beautifully.”
“Thank you.”
Qing Yao smiled. Picking up the guqin, she took his hand and walked back towards the bamboo house. The mountain was inherently cold, and he was not like his former self, unable to effortlessly circulate his internal energy to ward off the chill. Thus, his fingers were as cold as ice. As they entered the house,
She set down the guqin and naturally brought his hand to her lips to warm it with her breath, softly asking, “Are you feeling any better?”
His eyes gleamed with an ardent light, fixedly gazing at her. Her rosy lips seemed like sweet confections, and her features were as if painted. Wife was truly beautiful.
He leaned closer to her, his gaze flickering, gradually clearing.
The sounds they made were exceedingly faint, at most like the soft sighs of someone gazing at the twilight from an open window. This was a fierce struggle, a desperate battle, yet it seemed devoid of violence.
“Yao’er, having you in this life is enough. We shall be together forever, never to part,” his eyes were clear and profound. Where was the innocent child of seven or eight years old?
His memories had completely returned. Heaven was always fair, making him suffer, yet bestowing him with a treasure. Therefore, he harbored no blame, no hatred, no resentment. Fate was just. However, he would not allow anyone to disrupt the stability of the realm; this was the fruit of their combined efforts, his and Yao’er’s…
The morning’s rosy glow filtered through the bamboo house’s windowpanes, scattering into the room like golden gauze.
The person on the bed stirred softly, waking up. She lazily opened her eyes and turned to look at the man beside her.
His face was as if carved by a divine chisel, exquisite and natural. Her fingers involuntarily reached out, caressing him inch by inch, finally resting on his lips.
They say men with thin lips are heartless, but that saying isn’t always true. In her heart, he was the most devoted man in the world.
“Liu Zun, I wonder if you will remember all of this when you awaken.”
She murmured. Lost in her focus, she didn’t notice the subtle curve of his thin lips, nor the slight movement of his body.
Qing Yao immediately withdrew her hand, recalling their intimacy from the previous night, and blushed.
In this act of lovemaking, she felt as though she had taken advantage of him. He was in a state of blissful ignorance, while she was fully aware.
As Qing Yao prepared to get up, a long arm reached out, encircling her waist. A languid, cooing voice spoke, “Wife, you’re awake?”
“Mm,” Qing Yao dared not lift her head, thus missing the man’s bright eyes above her, his bewitching smile, and the satisfied tightening of his arms as he held her close.
“Wife must love me and cherish me from now on, take care of me, because I belong to wife.”
A captivating voice emanated from above, causing Qing Yao’s cheeks to burn hotter. She buried her face in his embrace.
He struggled to suppress a chuckle and pressed on, “Wife, don’t ignore me from now on, and don’t be angry with me.”