The slender lovesickness leaves rustled in the wind.
Wood fragrance, bean fragrance, leaf fragrance—these several scents made one’s mind peaceful and tranquil.
Mo Zi turned around and looked at that grassy area where gravestones stood. It suddenly seemed peaceful and serene.
“This place is called Quan Tomb, taking one character from my father’s name.”
It was already a voice she knew very well, warm and gentle as always, making her feel comforted. This person, perhaps, was just as he himself had said—no longer as desperate for revenge as before.
She turned her face and saw him.
White clothes surpassing snow.
In her memory, aside from blood-stained prison garments, Yuan Cheng had never worn outer clothing that wasn’t black. Black, all varieties of black—she had once thought it was the color closest to his true nature. As long as she saw his black clothes, she would be vigilant and careful, telling herself this person’s warmth was only on the surface. Moreover, he was probably the person who could wear black most magnificently.
But today he was dressed entirely in white—plain white, pure white. Silver threads embroidered on white, the silver threads forming large chrysanthemums, petals like hooks, scattered at the hem, collar edge, and cuffs, the color hidden within the white clothes, the luster competing with sun and moon for brilliance.
His hair was tied up high, wearing a pearl hair crown. His dark eyes reflected sunlight falling through tree leaves, making his face, set off by white clothes until almost transparent, show her a slight smile.
So white suited him better than black, because he was originally born into the most noble of scholarly families, his character naturally noble and untouched by dust since childhood.
In that instant, Mo Zi thought—if the Yuan family hadn’t been framed, if Yuan Cheng were still the Yuan family’s young master, she would never have had the opportunity to know him in her lifetime. How could a mediocre minor supervisor and a great talent with the world in his heart possibly meet?
“Yuan Cheng…” She had originally planned that upon meeting him, she would scold him thoroughly about those four words “listening to spring water at West Mountain.” Now, she had no reason to. “Why are the monuments without inscriptions?”
“They cannot have inscriptions.” Yuan Cheng gestured invitingly with his sleeve. “Have you forgotten? The Yuan clan are still criminal officials.”
Still criminal officials—with some emotion in her heart, Mo Zi followed him.
Zan Jin wanted to follow, but his vision blurred and a middle-aged man appeared. His expression immediately became proper as he cupped his fists and respectfully addressed him as senior.
Mo Zi saw this and asked Yuan Cheng curiously: “Isn’t that person the one who put Zan Jin to sleep and woke him up? How does Zan Jin seem so familiar with him now?”
“Last time when you were grabbed by the neck, Zan Jin asked me to let him follow Yi Dan for a few days. I didn’t ask what specifically he learned.” Yuan Cheng smiled. “Yi Dan said he’s teachable. I’ve never heard this person praise anyone. You’ve found yourself a treasure.”
“No wonder he disappeared for a few days and refused to say where he went. After coming back, he was completely different from before, constantly pulling a vigilant expression. But I think he was better the way he was before.” Mo Zi stared at Yuan Cheng’s elegant neck and his meticulously combed dark hair, deciding to walk faster to walk side by side.
“He follows you—isn’t it to protect you? If he can’t do that, better to give up early and avoid harming both others and himself.” Yuan Cheng spoke quite impolitely.
“Listening to you say this, does that person called Yi Dan readily sacrifice his life for you?” Mo Zi questioned him back.
“He may not be willing, but since he’s sold his life to me, sacrificing his life for me seems appropriate. After all, I spent a very large sum of money.” Yuan Cheng raised his eyebrows, his eye lines lightly lifting, looking rather proud.
Mo Zi glanced at him sideways and shook her head. “Haven’t you had enough of the lesson you got in Nande? Money can’t buy everything.”
Yuan Cheng reached out and grabbed her sleeve, making her stop. “Thank you for the reminder. You—rest assured.”
Mo Zi gently pulled her sleeve back, her expression unavoidably somewhat flushed. “What do I need to be assured about? People like us must be careful of our own affairs. We can’t rely on others.”
Yuan Cheng looked at his empty palm, his gaze falling on her eyes. “I thought Mo-gege had great ability in winning people’s hearts—a single call would have people willing to die for you.”
“Thank you for thinking so highly of me.” Mo Zi smiled back. “Not even mentioning whether what you say is true, I don’t want anyone dying for me at all.”
“Fair enough.” Yuan Cheng withdrew his hand into his sleeve and continued walking into the forest.
Regarding Quan Tomb, Mo Zi actually had many questions she wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring herself to. When Yuan Cheng left the Great Zhou, he was still a five-year-old child, yet these lovesickness trees were at least nearly twenty years old—no matter how you looked at it, he couldn’t have arranged this later. The monuments were very clean, the grass very neat, the forest very beautiful, clearly requiring much thought and care. Could there be other Yuan family members who survived like him?
“West Mountain, listening to spring water. Yuan Cheng, next time you make an appointment, could you please say everything clearly? If I weren’t sometimes stubborn, I would have planned to return the way I came halfway up the mountain. If I had stood you up, you couldn’t blame me.” Mo Zi couldn’t complain about other things, but this matter she could say a few words about.
“Stand me up? Meaning to break an appointment?” These words were interesting.
Mo Zi smiled and nodded yes.
“You often seem to use interesting expressions.” Release the pigeon and the person waits in vain.
Mo Zi naturally couldn’t say she had traveled back from a thousand years later, so she could only pretend to be modest. “I think they’re more vivid, easier for everyone to understand.”
The lovesickness forest actually wasn’t large. Before long, they saw white cloth forming screens, circling out a round area. Going around the cloth screens, they saw a flat grassy area. The grass was shorter than that of Quan Tomb, like laying a thick velvet carpet. Three mats were placed on the grass, with tiger-footed low tables on the mats. One table had a wine pot and wine cups—this should be Yuan Cheng’s seating.
However, what attracted Mo Zi’s gaze wasn’t these seemingly exquisite furnishings, but a large drum in the center of the circle and a copper bell hanging from a tree. Presumably, the ding-dong sounds came from these two things.
“Is this what you’d call painstaking effort?” Mo Zi pointed at the drum and bell. “To create the effect of listening to spring water, and you’re not even afraid of others hearing.” If people discovered a family of traitors buried behind this West Mountain, Yuan Cheng’s good fortune would come to an end.
“Have you never heard of ‘West Mountain, west wind, west side ghosts’? This West Mountain’s scenery is desolate—no temples, no nunneries, only poor villages below the mountain. Not to mention the back mountain has wind blocking it, even if someone truly heard it, they’d only think it was ghosts and avoid it at all costs. Do you think everyone is like you? Out of a hundred people, ninety wouldn’t even glance at this desolate mountain. Of the remaining ten, nine would turn back at the halfway point, and the last one would look at the mountain top and return disappointed.” Yuan Cheng sat down at the table with wine—evidently he had already started drinking alone.
Once Mo Zi sat down, two women emerged from behind the white screen, wearing identical goose-yellow willow-green skirts, moving with lotus steps, flower marks between their brows, graceful bearing, but very ordinary appearances—the kind you’d forget after seeing once.
One placed wine pots and cups, the other served snacks and poured wine, then without saying a word, they knelt at Mo Zi’s sides.
Mo Zi looked left and right, thinking—to appear here at this time, they should be trustworthy. But these two women looked really too ordinary, without any distinctive features. Where did Yuan Cheng’s trust in them come from?
Taking a sip of wine, peach fragrance overflowed. Looking at the snacks again—swallow threads and green grass.
“Yuan Cheng, these are—” Wangqiu Pavilion’s wine, Wangqiu Pavilion’s snacks.
“I’m using another’s flowers to present to Buddha. I just don’t know if I borrowed from the right place?” Yuan Cheng picked up a snack and examined it carefully. “I thought you should like these.”
Without looking, Mo Zi picked one up and put it in her mouth, eating while saying: “Just say directly that you know Wangqiu Pavilion was opened with Qiu Sanniang’s money. Honestly, some things are truly delicious. Though recently other restaurants have imitations, they can’t imitate them properly. It’s not that the materials are wrong, but the method is wrong. However, Yuan Cheng, now that I’ve come to West Mountain and listened to the spring water, don’t keep me guessing. I’m very curious—what exactly do you have to say that you needed to pick this place to say it?” If there were ghosts, his whole family would be the audience.
“Haven’t seen you for some time, just chatting casually.” Yuan Cheng curved his lips. Though he had been smiling slightly all along, this smile had some significance—an indescribable significance. “I just find it quiet here.”
Just for the quiet? Nonsense. Mo Zi also curved her lips, putting on a serious face of speaking obvious lies. “Lord Yuan has excellent taste.” Choosing his own family gravesite to chat.
“As long as Mo-gege likes it.” When she called him Lord Yuan, he called her Mo-gege, without any ambiguity.
Mo Zi took a deep breath, exhaled deeply. “Yuan Cheng—”
“Prince Jing’s mansion may have already discovered your wall-climbing.” Don’t get angry—wasn’t he starting the conversation now?
Eh? Mo Zi was stunned for a moment, then spoke unhurriedly: “Finally discovered it, huh? That General Xiao, I mean Young General Xiao, his reaction is really slow enough. When he leads troops in battle, does he like siege warfare, dragging it out for a year or so until people are exhausted and have to surrender?”
Yuan Cheng formed his hand into a tube and placed it before his mouth, covering his laughter. “This Young General Xiao isn’t as useless as you say. Perhaps people who only focus on charging into battle are a bit slow about matters like fires in the rear courtyard.”
“Where is there fire in the rear courtyard?” Does climbing walls count as fire? At most it’s smoke.
“In any case, if you go back, be mentally prepared. It’s also possible that once you return, you won’t be able to come out.” If he were Xiao Wei, he would think of every way to prevent Mo Zi from slipping out of other people’s homes, especially when that other family was surnamed Yuan.
Mo Zi had long been prepared for this possibility. “Not afraid. Even if he knows I went out from your house and makes the wall higher, I’ll just dig a hole. Cats have cat holes, mice have mouse holes.”
Is that really a saying? Yuan Cheng laughed despite himself. If you can’t climb walls, you’ll dig holes?
“There’s also Xiao Yi. Even if those two young masters of the Xiao family discover how I got out, they can’t find out she knows martial arts. At worst, I’ll have her send you word and ask you to rescue me and help me escape. I have very capable helpers now.”
“Mm, that makes sense.” Yuan Cheng ate a piece of snack, his brows relaxing. After finishing, he added: “Though I can’t dig holes, I’m rather skilled at demolishing walls.”
This is called making a spectacular entrance when you do act. No need to trouble yourself climbing walls or digging holes—the person just demolishes the wall directly. That makes sense too—someone who was once a high official, if he does something, it must be sensational.
“However, if the Xiao family moves the garden where your master lives to another location, then demolishing the wall probably won’t be of any use. After all, Yuan Manor and Xiao Manor seem to only share one wall. If they place you in the very center, Prince Jing’s mansion has many experts—sending messages might not work.”
Mo Zi’s head hurt from this crow’s mouth—this person, even wearing white clothes, was still black inside.