“Why did you save me? How did you know I came to Qingcheng? Did you harm Yang Jingyuan?”
Ji Yingying’s rapid-fire questions made Sheng Fengze smile.
The tall pines and cypresses before the temple shrouded Sheng Fengze in shadow. He slowly fastened his cloak and turned up his hat to cover his face.
“I’m returning to Nanzhao tomorrow. I meant to bid you farewell—following you to Qingcheng was purely coincidental. Considering our acquaintance, I wanted to do something good before leaving. Perhaps you’ll hate me a little less.”
Perhaps, whether she hated him or not, he simply didn’t want Zhao Xiuyuan to touch her.
Is he returning to Nanzhao? A flash of joy crossed Ji Yingying’s eyes.
She stood in the moonlight, her changing expressions all visible to Sheng Fengze. She truly didn’t fear his anger. Sheng Fengze again felt the urge to grab her throat. Let her go—hopefully never to meet again. He didn’t want to keep a woman who could affect his behavior and emotions by his side. Because of her, he had already made too many mistakes.
“I don’t want to see you again. You won’t be able to marry Yang Jingyuan for three years. If you want to avoid Zhao Xiuyuan, you’d better move away. For instance, take your mother back to Chang’an.”
If the Ji family moved away, they might escape calamity. He had said all he could; the rest depended on her luck.
Ji Yingying turned her face away, thinking she didn’t want to see him either. Moving? As if it were that easy? Father was here, the Huanhua Dye House was here. If they moved away, what about her marriage to Yang Jingyuan?
“Go inside. I’ve already informed Zhu Erlang. He won’t keep searching the mountains—he’ll be here soon.” Sheng Fengze didn’t want to say more and turned to descend the mountain. As his foot was about to step down, he turned back: “Yang Jingyuan isn’t in Qingcheng. Return home tomorrow. He will come find you.”
“Hey, how do you know? Did you poison him, making him ill?” Ji Yingying ran a few steps forward, shouting at him.
Sheng Fengze lifted his face to look at her: “Yang Jingyuan isn’t as useless as you think. However, if he blocks my path again, I will kill him.”
His figure floated down the long steps like a dark cloud.
“Why does it feel like he spoke strangely? Why did he save me?” Ji Yingying muttered. As darkness slowly fell, torchlight appeared on the long stone steps. Was it Zhu Erlang? Ji Yingying looked back at the nearby temple and waited nervously.
Soon, in the torchlight, she could make out Zhu Erlang and Ling’er’s faces. Ji Yingying sighed in relief.
“Second Miss!” Seeing Ji Yingying standing at the top of the steps, Zhu Erlang happily ran up, leaving Ling’er behind. Wiping his sweat, he complained: “Those two porters, really—they said they were born hard of hearing and had already delivered you to the Celestial Master’s Cave. I was nearly frightened to death.”
It was Sheng Fengze again. Seeing Zhu Erlang knew nothing, Ji Yingying didn’t want to cause trouble and said nothing more.
They stayed at the temple that night, and Zhu Erlang went to inquire about Daoist Huaqing’s residence. Remembering Sheng Fengze’s words, Ji Yingying was half-skeptical. Early the next morning, the group left the temple, following a young novice who led them to Daoist Huaqing’s thatched cottage.
“So you’re Third Young Master’s betrothed, Miss Ji?” The elderly Daoist Huaqing smiled while examining Ji Yingying. Before she could react, he sat down commandingly in the courtyard: “This master wants to test your culinary skills today. The kitchen is over there.”
He then said to Zhu Erlang: “Go chop some firewood. The cleaver and rope are in the kitchen.”
“Master Huaqing, is Yang Third Young Master here? His family said he fell ill and was sent here to recover,” Ji Yingying asked, reluctantly shuffling toward the kitchen with Ling’er, looking back as she went.
“After you’ve prepared the meal and cleaned the house, this old Daoist will tell you,” Huaqing replied.
There were three thatched cottages—a main hall and two wing rooms. The main hall was empty; could he be in one of the wing rooms? Ji Yingying winked at Ling’er and cheerfully rushed in: “Ling’er, you cook—I’ll clean the rooms.”
Daoist Huaqing watched her go in and come out disappointed, stroking his beard with great amusement.
The kitchen had vegetables and a large piece of smoked bacon. Guessing the Daoist didn’t abstain from meat, Ji Yingying boldly cooked it. When Zhu Erlang returned with firewood, the meal was ready and laid out. Daoist Huaqing invited all three to eat. Over tea, he directed them to water the herb garden.
By the time they finished all their tasks, it was evening.
Ji Yingying knew Yang Jingyuan wasn’t there, but since this was his master, she treated it as paying her respects. After completing all the indoor and outdoor chores, she bowed to Daoist Huaqing: “Master Huaqing, it’s getting late. We should head down the mountain now.”
“Ah, you cannot leave,” Daoist Huaqing said, standing up and speaking composedly. “If you want Yang Third Young Master to be safe, stay here for a while. The kitchen has enough food for a month. You have your maid, there’s a stream and pond behind the house for water, and this forest has plenty of fallen branches for firewood. It’s quite safe here—feel at ease and stay.”
“Stay? For how long? My mother is still ill. I can’t stay too long,” Ji Yingying was surprised by the Daoist’s proposal.
Zhu Erlang also shook his head in opposition: “Two young women living alone in these deep mountains is too dangerous.”
“Who says it’s dangerous?! Without this old Daoist’s permission, not even a rabbit can enter that grove in front,” Daoist Huaqing said, grabbing Zhu Erlang and pulling him outside the fence. “I will visit the Ji family to check on your mother’s illness. I’ll put your family at ease.”
He moved so quickly that he vanished into the bamboo grove in an instant.
When Zhu Erlang turned around, he saw only a dense grove—the valley cottage had disappeared. Suddenly enlightened, he asked: “Master Huaqing, is this a formation array?”
Daoist Huaqing grunted in affirmation: “Want to learn?”
Zhu Erlang nodded frantically: “Would Master take me as a disciple?”
Daoist Huaqing was agreeable: “We’ll discuss it after returning to Sandaoyan.”
Filled with thoughts of learning martial arts, Zhu Erlang completely forgot to ask why the Daoist was keeping Ji Yingying and her maid on the mountain.
Left in the thatched cottage, Ji Yingying stood dazed for a while. Seeing the darkening sky, she ordered Ling’er to light the oil lamp. Perhaps Master Huaqing could divine something… Would Yang Jingyuan come? Had he just left home? Ji Yingying’s eyes brightened.
However, after sleeping until dawn the next day, no one came. Keep waiting.
Days passed one by one. The bacon hanging above the stove was half gone, but Ji Yingying still hadn’t seen Yang Jingyuan.
“Ling’er, how long have we been here?”
“Almost half a month.”
Half a month. Daoist Huaqing had left a letter on the fence. It was from the Ji family, saying her mother was well and telling Ji Yingying to stay on the mountain without worry. Nothing else was mentioned. He also sent some fabric and sewing supplies—two bolts of their home-dyed bright blue silk and two of undyed plain silk, clearly meant for making Daoist robes and undergarments.
Her mother had awakened and was gradually recovering. Ji Yingying felt relieved. She couldn’t help wondering: had Sheng Fengze returned to Nanzhao? After he knocked out Zhao Xiuyuan on the mountain, would Zhao still dare to take revenge on the Ji family?
With things to do, time passed quickly.
Why did he want her to stay on the mountain? Ji Yingying didn’t understand. But she trusted that Daoist Huaqing wouldn’t keep her on the mountain forever—he must have his reasons. As time went on, she began to enjoy the peace and freedom of this place.