Chapter 432: 159. For Fujiwara’s happiness, Mrs. Kasahara has really racked her brains.
Tonight, Hidden God Town is adorned with vibrant lanterns, resplendent and magnificent.
The sound of bells and drums echoes through the entire imperial mountain, yet only the inner courtyard of the sleeping palace at the mountain’s peak remains tranquil, as if in another world.
On the terrace extending from the main hall of the sleeping palace, Natsuki Kuri sits elegantly at a low table, draped in a kimono with a simple style but intricate dark patterns, with an anciently styled bronze maid lamp on the table.
She holds the wide sleeve of her kimono with one hand, and a brush in the other.
The wind blows from the foot of the mountain, causing the flame to flicker.
The brush tip is dipped in ink.
The strokes are soft yet vigorous, with a rounded and neat calligraphy that exudes a graceful and delicate aura, as if little flowers are blooming on the rice paper.
Next to Natsuki Kuri on the tatami, Kasahara Fumi kneels with her knees bent, flipping through a scroll. Her long hair falls down her back, her half-exposed shoulders illuminated by the firelight, casting an orange glow akin to her hair. Kawashima Miki props her face with one hand, half-lying on the mat, her eyes slightly squinted. Probably bored, she plays with her black hair, twirling it around her fingers, her expression distant and lonely.
Moonlight, candlelight, and lovely ladies.
Three beauties, in fact; the scene here could be considered the most beautiful painting in the world.
At this moment, there are no idle people in or out of the sleeping palace; no one to appreciate this beauty except them.
The wind blows in freely, rustling the papers on the desk.
Kasahara Fumi doesn’t know when, but she also lies sideways, her sleeves piled in front of her, the wide hem of her skirt spreading at her feet. Her tender fingers turn the pages as her gaze skims the words like a fleeting glance.
This is a book explaining the local folklore and mysteries of the Feitu Mountains, some customs, and cultures, some monsters and deities.
"Why do we have to guard here?" muttered Kawashima Miki.
The other two didn’t respond, and she lazily leaned against the bookcase, her fingers releasing the hair. The loose kimono draped over her body, her pitch-black hair falling to the ground, the same color as the night.
Who knows how much time has passed.
The flames no longer flicker, and the gentle breeze quiets down.
The jade tiles underfoot bear layers of faint red light, leaping within the palace, appearing cold and lonely.
Natsuki Kuri put down the brush, her gaze passing through the terrace, looking towards the town below the mountain.
The town shows little sign of modernization, and naturally, there aren’t many electric lights. The only light in view is the blazing red flames covering the mountain, a truly solemn and spectacular scene. The countless noisy shouts pass through the distant night, sounding dim as if through layers of filters.
Outside the sleeping palace in the night, many little spirits, who only dare to come out deep in the night, are attracted by the lights. They drift to the window, gently lying on the window ledge, peeking in at the three beautiful enchantresses, seemingly attracted by their beauty.
Natsuki Kuri chuckled lightly.
In past summers, these mindless little spirits and a flirtatious Koriya accompanied her through countless enchanting nights here.
The light from the oil lamp passed through the thin gauze, illuminating half of her cheek.
"What are you laughing at?" Kawashima Miki turned her head to look over.
"Laughing at us three," Natsuki Kuri propped her chin with both hands, smiling at the two beauties across from her, "The young men we like are outside enjoying the excitement and beauty, while we can only guard an empty room."
Hearing this, Kasahara Fumi, who had been focused on the book, looked outside.
The mountain’s night was quiet, her pitch-black pupils reflecting only endless flowing fire.
"Look at this ice-cold officer," Natsuki Kuri began to tease her, "more eager than the two of us."
Kasahara Fumi promptly returned her gaze to the book.
"Fumi," Natsuki Kuri leaned over to her with a nudge, "it’s a rare chance, chat with us openly."
Kasahara Fumi gently shook her head.
Perhaps feeling the weight of Natsuki Kuri’s head on her shoulder, she gently pushed it off, then disdainfully gathered her skirts and moved to sit on the other side.
"Haha~" Kawashima Miki clutched her stomach and laughed.
Suddenly, an explosion sounded outside the building.
The shockwave from the explosion spread, stirring up the mountain breeze that had been calm for a while.
In that instant, the gust lifted the skirts and long hair of the three women, and they all looked outside. Beneath the dark canopy, Aunt Qing’s silhouette stood nailed like a steadfast anchor within the chaotic air currents.
"Amazing!" Kawashima Miki exclaimed, covering her mouth in surprise.
Kasahara Fumi stared solemnly at that figure.
If even the housekeeper possesses such formidable strength, how terrifying must the former Mountain God be...
"The fireworks will start soon, wait for a bit, I’ll grab some drinks." Natsuki Kuri stood up, smilingly asking them, "Sherry, white wine, mixed whiskey, and vermouth okay? Cocktails are too much hassle, don’t even think about those."
"I’m easy." Kawashima Miki replied nonchalantly, "Preferably Scotch whiskey. Mix it with an equal amount of water and add some ice."
"What about you, Fumi?"
Kasahara Fumi calmly said, "A refreshing drink will be fine."
"Afraid of getting drunk and being taken advantage of by my little Koriya?"
"...No comment." Kasahara Fumi shrugged indifferently.
"Oh~~" Natsuki Kuri’s tone was very intriguing.
"Really, it’s not true! I’m not lying to you."
"Yeah, yeah, I believe you."
"Kuri!"
Seeing her good friends about to turn ugly, Natsuki Kuri turned around and disappeared with bell-like clear laughter.
"Annoying..." murmured Kasahara Fumi, immediately gathering her skirts properly and sitting upright. Her inherently noble and cold demeanor exuded a distant, chilly elegance, keeping people at bay.