The stone forest stood backed by the towering, verdant Zhishan Mountain that reached into the clouds. The other three sides were surrounded by lush bamboo forests, separated by a ring of scorched earth several zhang wide, creating a stark contrast.
Meilin crouched down, carefully examining the ground. After a while, she pinched up some ash-like sand and held it before Murong Jinghe’s face.
“Look, this has been burned… but why is nothing growing here?” she wondered. After many years, lush vegetation should have sprouted from the ashes left by a great fire. Realizing this, she suddenly threw the sand to the ground as if she had grabbed something terrifying, and hastily wiped her hands on her clothes. Glancing sideways, she indeed saw undisguised mockery in Murong Jinghe’s eyes.
Pursing her lips, the discourteous Meilin unceremoniously tossed him onto the ground covered with bamboo leaves and shoots. As she turned away, she heard a suppressed groan of pain, and the corners of her lips curved up slightly. She then tore a strip of cloth from her clothes, using her teeth to tightly tie it around the upper arm that had touched the sand, while hurrying towards a small stream not far away.
The stream flowed from Zhishan Peak, bypassing the burned field. Its water was clear, with lush plants on both banks and occasional traces of small animals.
She washed her hands in the water, scrubbing with grass leaves. When she lifted it, she found her entire palm had turned pitch black, like the charred stones. Meilin sighed, drew her dagger, and made a cross-shaped cut on her palm. Then, gripping her arm through her sleeve, she squeezed from top to bottom, watching black blood drip into the stream. In an instant, several small fish floated up, belly-up.
“So heartless,” she muttered, though her expression showed no complaint. She knew all too well how ruthless that man could be. Once he had a chance to turn the tables, she would surely die without a trace. Moreover, she had only saved him out of desperate necessity, so naturally, she didn’t expect any gratitude.
As the blood flowing from the wound changed from sporadic drops to a steady stream, the numbness in her palm gradually gave way to sensation, first like ants crawling, then pain. The blood finally returned to a bright red color.
After waiting a moment longer, Meilin untied the cloth on her arm. Watching the blood gush from her palm like a spring, she remained calm. She found some hemostatic herbs from her waist, chewed them, and spat them onto the wound, then wrapped them with several layers of cloth before standing up.
A wave of dizziness hit her, causing her to stagger and crouch down again. She bent over to drink a few mouthfuls of the now-clear stream water, which made her feel slightly better.
She wasn’t afraid of being poisoned, as she had been implanted with a chronic, periodically activating strange poison when she entered the Dark Factory, giving her some resistance to other toxins. However, her blood was truly limited, and she couldn’t afford to lose much more.
She washed the dagger in the water, then cut a section of bamboo to make a tube, filled it with water, and returned to the edge of the bamboo forest. Murong Jinghe lay face-down on the ground, his face turned to the side, pressed against the thick layer of dead leaves. He had fallen face-first and hadn’t moved since. His open eyes showed no anger or resentment, only an inscrutable depth. Seeing her return, he smiled, saying in an unusually gentle tone, “If you’re smart, you’d best kill this prince now. Otherwise, the humiliation of today will be repaid a hundredfold in the future.”
Although she had already guessed this, hearing him say it in such a tone still sent a chill through Meilin’s heart.
“What I do is none of Your Highness’s concern,” she said, her expression unchanged. She crouched down, turned him over, propped him up slightly, and began to feed him the water she had brought back.
Murong Jinghe sipped the water slowly, raising his eyelashes, trying to discern something beneath Meilin’s calm exterior.
Her fair face, with damp hair clinging quietly to her cheeks, made one want to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. Her delicate brows and quiet eyes belonged to a woman who seemed accustomed to being submissive and without her own opinions. Yet unexpectedly, her mind was so profound, and her actions surprisingly decisive and efficient.
For the first time, Murong Jinghe carefully observed Meilin’s features. As she lowered her eyes, he finally understood why he had misjudged her. Their shared memories were limited to the small red mole at the corner of her eyebrow and their interactions over the past few days. Even though they had slept in the same bed before, he couldn’t recall anything about her. Even if he truly didn’t care about this person, it shouldn’t have been to this extent. From this, he realized she had intentionally weakened her presence in his mind.
Sensing his thoughtful, probing gaze, Meilin raised her eyes, meeting his gaze without avoidance. The coldness in her eyes struck directly into his heart, causing his pupils to constrict involuntarily.
Meilin’s lips tightened, then she smiled, though the smile did not dispel the iciness in her eyes. Even so, Murong Jinghe had to admit she was quite beautiful. Although this beauty couldn’t compare to Mu Ye Luomei’s.
“Since the soil is poisonous, those stones are probably the same. Are you sure we need to go in there?” she asked once again for confirmation.
“Are you afraid?” Murong Jinghe raised an eyebrow, about to taunt her further when his expression suddenly changed dramatically. His face, previously pale with a hint of green, suddenly flushed bright red.
Meilin noticed that whenever cooperation wasn’t necessary, the two of them found it hard to get along. She was contemplating whether to retort or ignore him when she suddenly heard a very loud rumbling from his stomach. Surprised, she asked, “Are you hungry?” They had been eating almost non-stop along the way, and she still felt uncomfortably full. How could he be hungry so quickly?
Murong Jinghe clenched his fists. His immobile body twisted almost imperceptibly, as if in spasm. He turned away, practically squeezing words through gritted teeth: “I need to defecate.” It seemed his delicate digestive system couldn’t handle the strange things they had eaten along the way and was now in turmoil.
Over the past few days, to avoid embarrassment, he had tried to eat and drink as little as possible. He hadn’t needed to defecate yet, and Meilin had helped him urinate. Now that he needed to defecate, he didn’t know what to do.
It wasn’t just him; even Meilin was at a loss.
“Hurry!” Seeing her still in a daze, Murong Jinghe urged angrily, embarrassed.
“Oh, oh,” Meilin panicked, reaching out to start removing his pants. However, the more flustered she became, the clumsier she got, accidentally tying the waistband into a tight knot.
“Cut it, cut it…” Murong Jinghe no longer had the mind to scold her, urging desperately.
“Hold on a bit longer, it’s almost…” Meilin had just loosened the knot, reluctant to cut the waistband. But this delay proved costly – with a “puff” sound, a strong stench wafted through the air.
She froze, while Murong Jinghe turned away in shame.
A clearing had been raked out in the bamboo grove by the stream. A roaring bonfire burned in the center, with two bamboo poles set across it, hanging freshly washed clothes.
Murong Jinghe lay on a large, slanting rock jutting into the water, his entire body submerged in the icy stream except for his head. Meilin, half-submerged in the water beside him, was washing away the filth from his body. Neither spoke, one due to embarrassment, the other feeling slightly guilty.
Meilin knew that if she hadn’t stuffed him with random herbs and refused to cut his waistband, this embarrassing incident might not have happened. For a grown man, especially a prince of high status, this was not just a loss of face, but a severe blow to his dignity.
However, for someone completely paralyzed like him, such situations were bound to happen sooner or later. In the future, she would have to handle his bodily functions anyway. Thinking this, her rare pang of conscience quickly vanished.
Using large, soft leaves to scrub his back, thighs, and limbs, her hands then moved without hesitation to clean the man’s private areas. She felt his body tremble uncontrollably beneath her touch, then return to stillness, but the tension lingered for a long time. Meilin involuntarily quickened her pace, finished washing his backside, then turned him over.
The firelight from nearby, now a dim yellow at the stream’s edge, was enough to clearly show Murong Jinghe’s closed eyes and tightly bitten lower lip, which had dark bloodstains. It was evident how hard he was trying to suppress his sense of shame.
Meilin inwardly sighed, realizing that if she wanted to stay alive, she might truly need to keep him paralyzed.
The man, who had kept his eyes closed throughout, naturally didn’t know her thoughts. Even if he did, he might not have cared.
Having been on the run for days, this was a rare chance to wash thoroughly. Meilin went ahead and washed Murong Jinghe’s hair as well, then dragged him to the shore onto clean, soft dead grass before going to fetch the clothes drying by the fire.
The autumn night wind blew through her wet undergarments, chilling her to the bone. Without inner energy to ward off the cold, her teeth chattered involuntarily. She practically ran to the fireside, snatched the half-dry clothes, and rushed back to the stream. After hastily wiping the cold water from his body with her hands, she dressed him.
With great effort, she brought him back to the fire, laying him on his side on thick, soft bamboo leaves. She hoped the fire’s heat would warm his ice-cold body and prevent him from falling ill, which would be disastrous for them in their current situation. Meilin herself returned to the water’s edge, removed her soaked undergarments to wash them, and hung them in the space left by his clothes. Then, shivering and gritting her teeth, she entered the stream to thoroughly clean herself.
When Murong Jinghe opened his eyes, she had finished washing and was sitting by the fire in a lotus-colored embroidered dudou that exposed much of her snow-white back, wearing thin underwear as she tended to her wounds.
After heating her sharp dagger over the fire, she decisively cut away the necrotic flesh around her wound until fresh blood flowed, sliding down her snow-white arm. Her wet black hair hung down her body, with a few strands falling across her chest, dripping water. She efficiently applied chewed herbs to the wound and bandaged it. Apart from an almost imperceptible furrowing of her brows when cutting away the dead flesh, she remained eerily calm throughout the process. Yet this calmness, set against her almost alluring attire, subtly exuded a kind of touching charm.
Of course, Meilin knew nothing of charm or allure. After tending to the wounds on her arm and leg, she washed the blood from her body at the stream’s edge, then put on her now-dry clothes. She washed and hung up her dudou and underwear, then re-bandaged the wound on her palm with a dry cloth.
With everything tidied up, she was about to lie down to sleep when she noticed the man across the fire was shivering almost imperceptibly. The dead leaves beneath him were wet from his hair, yet he hadn’t complained. Without thinking, she got up and moved him to a dry spot, letting him sit leaning against her with his back to the fire to dry his wet hair and damp clothes. Throughout this process, Murong Jinghe only glanced at her once when she first moved him, showing no further reaction.
Suddenly, Meilin knew everything would be different from now on.
The next day, they didn’t immediately enter the stone forest. In a place where even the soil was highly toxic, for two people – one injured and one with limited mobility – rushing in without proper preparation would be tantamount to suicide.
Above the bamboo forest, the sea holly circled persistently, indicating its master could arrive at any moment. Meilin cut down several bamboo trees and stripped off their branches and leaves. The thickest parts, except for four sections used as wheels, all became water containers. Using bamboo sections about one and a half arms long, along with the stripped branches, leaves, and vines, Meilin once again crafted a simple small cart. It was less than half the size of the one Yue Qin had made previously.
She gathered a cartload of dry grass, enough wild fruits and edible plants to last them several days, medicinal herbs, and over ten tubes of water, loading everything onto the cart.
Meilin tied the long vine to pull the cart around her waist, then half-carried Murong Jinghe. Two days later, they finally stepped out of the bamboo forest.
As they entered the open black transition zone, she couldn’t help but look up at the menacing bird still vigilantly watching them from above. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling an urge to roast it.
There was no rain. The autumn sky was high and clear blue. Murong Xuanlie hadn’t come. This was, so far, the luckiest thing.
As they approached, they realized the massive stones stood four to five zhang tall above ground. Square and uniform, though varying in thickness, they appeared as if carved by human hands. Yet no one would seriously consider this possibility. Firstly, the number of stones easily exceeded tens of thousands, with no signs of quarrying in the surrounding hills, ruling out local sourcing. Secondly, the area lacked large canals or roads capable of transporting such massive stones, making it impossible to imagine how such a colossal task could be accomplished. Thus, beyond marveling at nature’s craftsmanship, it was difficult to formulate any other theories.
Some stones interlocked tightly, while others left gaps wide enough for two horse-drawn carts to pass side by side. The ground was exceptionally smooth, covered in black sand like the area outside, blending seamlessly with the charred giant stones. Upon entering the stone forest, it felt as if the entire sky had darkened.
Mei Lin carried Murong Jinghe on her back and pulled a small cart as they passed between two enormous stone blocks that resembled a gateway, entering the infamous Burned Field. The smooth, vegetation-free ground made her task easier, though she no longer dared to casually lean against nearby objects for rest.
In such a vast stone maze, even without any danger, getting lost was a real possibility. Mei Lin prepared to leave markers as they walked, but Murong Jinghe stopped her. Though he didn’t explain why, she quickly realized the reason. If Murong Xuanlie and his men were to pursue them, the markers would serve as perfect guides.
Murong Jinghe now spoke to Mei Lin only when necessary, and she complied with his requests as long as they didn’t cross his boundaries. While Mei Lin appreciated the quiet, she found herself strangely missing the haughty Murong Jinghe who would occasionally complain and make sarcastic remarks.
The intermittent rattling of bamboo tubes, accompanied by heavy, dragging footsteps, created an eerie atmosphere in the dim stone forest. If these sounds weren’t coming from them, Mei Lin would have suspected encountering something supernatural.
Without guidance from Murong Jinghe, Mei Lin could only rely on her judgment to traverse toward Zhi Peak. The black stones exuded a bone-chilling cold, and the wind whistling through the gaps sounded like human cries. Despite the chill, the air in the stone forest wasn’t unpleasant. However, after walking for nearly an hour, the scenery remained unchanged, as if they hadn’t moved at all.
Feeling uneasy, Mei Lin found a sheltered spot to rest and assess their situation. As she struggled to support Murong Jinghe while spreading dried grass on the ground to insulate them from the poisonous black soil, she regretted not weaving a bamboo mat to save time.
Eventually, she had Murong Jinghe sit on the ground, kneeling beside him to support his weakened upper body while spreading enough dried grass for both of them to lie down.
After moving him onto the grass, she collapsed beside him, her mind racing to find more efficient methods.
She considered bundling the grass, making it easier to spread and collect. Glancing skyward, she suddenly sat up.
“How is this possible…” she muttered, her face contorting as a chill ran through her.
The once clear, deep blue sky had somehow been covered by a gray layer, neither mist nor cloud, hovering just above the giant stones like a hazy chaos. No wonder the light seemed so dim.
That wasn’t the sky. Mei Lin knew this but couldn’t explain what it was. She turned to look at Murong Jinghe, who also lay silently gazing upward.
“Hey…” Seeing he had no intention of speaking, she initiated the conversation, hesitating before addressing him, “Prince Murong, this place doesn’t seem quite right.”
Murong Jinghe slowly turned his eyes towards her.
“Indeed,” he replied weakly, offering no further comment.
Mei Lin waited, realizing she couldn’t extract any more useful information from him. She sighed, sat down, and began bundling the dried grass as she had planned earlier.
She began at Murong Jinghe’s feet, inevitably noticing his shoes. Constantly dragged along, the toes had worn through, exposing his big toe. The sock underneath was also nearly worn through, and soon his toes would be in direct contact with the ground.
Mei Lin was grateful for noticing early, lest she end up dragging a corpse without realizing it. After some thought, she cut a piece of cloth from her skirt hem, folded it several times, and tucked it into his shoe tip. She then tied his trousers legs and sleeves tightly. She dared not remove any of his clothing, fearing too much exposure. With his inability to move, even a small area of exposed skin might come into contact with the poisonous stone and sand. Unlike her, she couldn’t be certain he’d survive if poisoned.
After ensuring no skin except his hands, face, and neck were exposed, she began bundling the dried grass.
Once sufficiently rested, they resumed their journey.
Time seemed to stand still in the stone forest, maintaining a constant grayish state. While not entirely clear, the surroundings weren’t completely obscured either.
Mei Lin felt she had walked for a long time, yet the scenery remained unchanging – giant stones, black earth, and a chaotic sky that seemed endless. Something weighed heavily on her heart, making it hard to breathe. Fortunately, she could still feel Murong Jinghe’s warm, steady breath on her neck, which comforted her. At least she wasn’t alone.
Thump! Clatter—
Her foot kicked something that rolled away, unlike a stone. Mei Lin paused, then continued forward, only to step on something that broke with a crisp snap, like a dry branch in the quiet stone forest.
Mei Lin had to stop. She knew all too well what it was.
Backing up, she laid out the grass and settled Murong Jinghe before returning to where they had just passed.
Crouching low, in the dim light she could see a pile of white bones lying there, ribs shattered, with tattered clothes hanging on them, fluttering in the wind. There was no head. It was clear these were the consequences of Mei Lin’s steps.
She examined the clothes closely, but they were too decayed to discern any style. Giving up, she bowed twice to the bones and was about to move forward to find the missing skull.
“Come back,” Murong Jinghe unexpectedly called from behind.
Mei Lin paused, feeling an inexplicable joy, her feet automatically turning back.
“What is it?” she asked from a distance, her tone as cold as ever.
“If you walk past that stone pillar ahead, you might not find your way back,” Murong Jinghe stated his guess without embellishment. He spoke without emotion as if stating a fact, making one wonder if he would have called out to Mei Lin had he not been immobile.
“Why?” Mei Lin took a few steps back. In truth, she already believed about seventy to eighty percent of what he said. Even she wasn’t sure where this trust came from.
“Or you could verify it yourself,” Murong Jinghe didn’t explain his reasoning, speaking indifferently.
Mei Lin’s face broke into a wide smile. She walked over and lay down beside him. “Let’s sleep on it,” she yawned, her back against his. Though they couldn’t discern the time of day, judging by their fatigue, they had likely been walking for a full day. Since they had stopped here, it was best to rest fully before continuing.
Fearing that lighting a fire might cause the poison in the sand to seep into the smoke and heat, she had brought a flint but no firewood. In such a place, they could only rely on each other’s body heat to get through, with no other options.
Fortunately, there were two of them. This thought crossed Mei Lin’s mind again, and the smile that had just faded from her lips deepened.
“There’s a dead person over there,” she spoke up. “They must have died a long time ago, no flesh left, just a skeleton.”
Murong Jinghe didn’t respond. Mei Lin didn’t mind, too exhausted, she quickly fell into a deep sleep.
Mei Lin dreamed of the day she left the Dark Factory and met her master. But it wasn’t the same.
She knelt in a bedroom with ornate windows, incense smoke swirling before her. A person in white robes with long black hair stood in the depths of the room, gazing at her with deep eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make out the person’s face, only vaguely feeling it should be a man, someone she should know.
Someone called her from outside, telling her it was time to leave. So she walked out.
As she approached the door, a violent cough suddenly erupted behind her, close to her ear. She thought the person must be very ill and should be treated, so she picked out a few herbs from her waist, intending to give them to him. But what she saw was a stark white, headless skeleton.
Startled, her foot caught on the threshold, and she fell forward with a “thud.”
Mei Lin jerked awake from her dream, her back drenched in cold sweat.
The coughing continued beside her ear, quite hoarse now, coming from Murong Jinghe.
Mei Lin realized she had turned over at some point, her limbs almost entangled with his. Perhaps it was too cold, she thought, but didn’t let go. Instead, of remembering the scene from her dream, she felt an inexplicable fear and unconsciously tightened her arms.
As the coughing intensified, Murong Jinghe’s body shook to the point of near convulsion.
Feeling sorry for him, Mei Lin placed one hand on his chest and the other on his back, gently massaging. Her mind still lingered in the dream, somewhat confused and dazed, completely unaware of how Murong Jinghe’s body had stiffened at her sudden gesture of care.
The dream seemed to have mixed and mashed reality together, holding no value for deep interpretation. Yet Mei Lin couldn’t ignore the panic rising from the depths of her heart, triggered by the dream.
She had never known who the master was. Not just her, but likely few among the other death soldiers of the Dark Factory, including those from other departments, knew. That day was her first time seeing the master, and although he had allowed her into the inner chamber, she had obediently kept her head down, not daring to look around. But she had a nose, and she wasn’t deaf.
So she had smelled the faint, elegant incense on the master’s body, and heard that cough, that unexpected cough that didn’t allow time to disguise the voice. When she heard it, she almost thought she would never leave that room.
She had smelled that scent on Murong Xuanlie, and now she heard a similar cough from Murong Jinghe. Heaven truly loved to play jokes on her.
“Haven’t you touched enough?” Murong Jinghe’s voice, hoarse from coughing, broke her reverie, echoing in the silent stone forest.
Mei Lin froze, only now realizing that her hands, distracted by her thoughts, had slowed to a pace more like caressing than massaging.
“Let go!” Whether due to their circumstances or not, Murong Jinghe seemed to find this position somewhat uncomfortable, his voice turning harsh.
Mei Lin snapped back to reality, awkwardly withdrawing her hands and sitting up. She looked up at the sky, wanting to check the time, only to realize the futility of the attempt.
“Are you going to sleep more?” she asked. Waking from the dream hadn’t refreshed her at all; instead, she felt even more tired. With the biting cold, she couldn’t bear to lie down again.
“No,” Murong Jinghe’s voice regained its calm, but his body involuntarily shrank, feeling the cold seep into his already chilled body as she moved away. He had to struggle to keep his teeth from chattering. “Help me up.” At some point, he had stopped using the term “This Prince” when referring to himself.
Mei Lin didn’t notice this subtle change. She leaned over to help him up, letting him lean against her. She then pulled the small cart closer, took down the bamboo water container hanging on it, and helped him drink a few sips before drinking herself. They shared a roasted yam, feeling a bit of warmth return to their bodies before setting off again.
(End of Chun Hua Yan – Chapter)