Shen Che snapped back to attention and swiftly caught Ji Cheng’s foot as she was about to withdraw it. Her delicate foot, white as mutton-fat jade, was smaller than his palm. Resting in his hand, it resembled a blooming magnolia.
Without mercy, Shen Che burst the blister Ji Cheng had developed, squeezing out the stagnant blood.
“Wait a moment, I’ll be right back,” Shen Che said, standing up.
Ji Cheng nearly cursed Shen Che to death in her heart. Now the wound hurt with even the slightest touch, making it even more difficult for her to walk.
Shen Che wasn’t gone long. He returned holding a handful of herbs, crouched in front of Ji Cheng again, and chewed the herbs before applying them to her wound. “There, it’s done,” Shen Che said, asking Ji Cheng for a handkerchief. He used it to bandage her wound, then slipped a loose cotton sock over her foot. The boot was certainly unwearable now.
Shen Che draped Ji Cheng’s cloak over her shoulders. “I’ll carry you. Otherwise, we won’t make it before dark. Wild animals roam the mountains at night, and the heavy frost and dew aren’t good for your health.” As he spoke, he slipped his hand under Ji Cheng’s knees and lifted her into his arms.
The entire process left Ji Cheng no room to express her opinion. She could only hold her boots and wrap her arms around Shen Che’s neck. The sudden lift made her feel quite insecure.
There were still three mountains to cross. Ji Cheng thought that even with Shen Che’s great strength, he couldn’t possibly carry her over three mountains. To her surprise, Shen Che didn’t need to descend the mountain at all. Holding her, he merely tapped his foot on a nearby rock, and his entire body shot out like an arrow.
The mountain wind was so strong that Ji Cheng could barely keep her eyes open. As Shen Che leaped into the air, Ji Cheng couldn’t help but let out a startled cry. He was flying straight towards the opposite mountain peak while carrying her.
Frightened, Ji Cheng buried her head in Shen Che’s neck. It was the first time she realized she was so afraid of heights. If they fell, both would surely be smashed to a pulp.
When Shen Che landed, Ji Cheng’s legs were so weak she could barely stand, only able to remain upright by leaning on him. Ji Cheng had heard storytellers in teahouses speak of this kind of lightness skill in martial arts. In the stories, it was described as mysterious and profound, with practitioners able to walk in mid-air as easily as climbing stairs.
Ji Cheng had only listened to such tales in passing, never imagining she would witness it firsthand with Shen Che, and that he could do it while carrying her as extra weight. He might not have been afraid, but she was terrified on his behalf.
“Are you that scared?” Shen Che asked, looking down at Ji Cheng.
Ji Cheng, putting on a brave face, replied, “Couldn’t you have given some warning? Anyone would be scared by that, you know?”
Shen Che didn’t respond to Ji Cheng’s words, instead saying, “Have you adjusted? If so, we need to continue our journey.”
The so-called continuation of their journey meant flying over another mountain. This time, Ji Cheng was slightly more mentally prepared. Keeping her eyes closed and not looking down, she felt much less dizzy.
As her mood lightened, Ji Cheng’s mind suddenly flashed to a seemingly familiar scene. On that night when she got drunk at the bird’s nest on the Jiuli Yuan mountain ridge, Ji Cheng remembered the thrill of rapidly falling, and being held as they soared upwards, flying towards the mysterious moon. She had originally thought it was a hallucination from being drunk, but now she realized she had probably nearly fallen to her death that night at Jiuli Yuan.
Thanks to Shen Che’s method of travel, they were able to reach their destination by the shortest route. Before nightfall, they arrived at Shen Che’s mountain dwelling.
The mountain residence was tranquil and seemed to have some history. Green moss peeked through the thatched roof, and the wood used to build the dwelling had turned a yellowish-black color. From the outside, the mountain abode looked quite rudimentary.
Pushing open the rickety wooden gate, they entered a narrow courtyard paved with small pebbles.
Shen Che set Ji Cheng down, stepped forward, and gently pushed to the side. The door of the dwelling slid open to the left. Ji Cheng saw Shen Che remove his shoes before stepping up, so she followed suit, placing her boots on the wooden steps.
The entire mountain cabin was built on stilts, raised about two feet off the ground to avoid moisture from rotting the wood.
Inside, the floor was covered with fine white rush mats. Apart from the load-bearing wooden pillars, there were no partitions in the middle, leaving the space open and empty, about three rooms wide.
Moreover, the side facing the water had no walls at all, opening directly to the babbling mountain stream. Ji Cheng walked over and looked down; the water flowed right under the house. If one sat on the edge of the rush mat, their feet would naturally dangle down and touch the stream.
“The stream water can wash my feet,” Ji Cheng thought.
“There’s a washroom over there. Take your clothes and go freshen up, but be careful not to get water on your foot wound,” Shen Che instructed Ji Cheng, pointing.
Ji Cheng was quite disgusted with how dirty she felt and didn’t want to take out her clothes in front of Shen Che. She simply picked up her entire bundle and limped towards the washroom.
The washroom was a separate building, connected to the small cabin by a pebble path. When Ji Cheng entered, she discovered that there was a hot spring there.
The washroom had the same style as the small cabin, with walls on three sides and the side facing the stream left open. One could gaze at the distant snowy peaks while soaking in the hot spring.
Ji Cheng placed her bundle on a nearby stone bench. Fortunately, Liu Ye’er had been thoughtful enough to prepare bath beans and hair-washing fragrant cream for Ji Cheng. She undressed and sat at the edge of the steaming pool, using a halved gourd ladle to pour water over herself, washing her hair and body.
By the time Ji Cheng had finished grooming herself and wrung out her hair with a cotton towel, the sun had already set. In less than a quarter of an hour, it would be dark.
Ji Cheng returned to the main cabin but didn’t see Shen Che anywhere. She leaned against a pillar by the water to rest. Glancing to the side, she noticed a bamboo flute lying nearby. Out of boredom, she picked it up and tried a few notes. The tone was clear and bright, which delighted her. She tried playing a short tune, and just as she put the flute down and turned her head, she saw Shen Che, who had just returned from outside.
“I went to Old Luo’s place to pick some vegetables and brought back a pheasant he caught today,” Shen Che said.
“Old Luo?” Ji Cheng asked, puzzled.
“He lives about half a mile away. He usually helps me clean this place,” Shen Che explained.
That made sense. Ji Cheng had wondered how the place could be so spotless after being uninhabited for so long.
“The pheasant has already been prepared. You can go to the kitchen and take care of it,” Shen Che said.
“Me?” Ji Cheng doubted she had heard correctly.
“I don’t know how to cook, and Old Luo’s culinary skills are barely edible even for himself. Who else but you?” Shen Che countered.
Ji Cheng had no choice but to accept her fate. She had been looking for a way to avoid Shen Che, so staying in the kitchen was preferable to being alone with him in the wilderness cabin.
The kitchen was next to the washroom. Inside, there was a bamboo basket containing wild vegetables and half a pheasant – presumably what Shen Che had brought back. Ji Cheng first lit the fire on the wood stove. This wasn’t difficult for her; back in North Jin, she used to steal chickens and ducks from home and roast them in the mountains with the other wild boys. She had even made beggar’s chicken before.
However, beggar’s chicken wasn’t an option tonight as it would take too long to cook. They might be ready for bed before the chicken was done. Ji Cheng found some mushrooms in the vegetable basket and decided to make mushroom braised chicken. She also made some thin pancakes using wild bird eggs, flour, and wild vegetables and prepared vegetable soup. It would be enough to get by.
“Looks like you didn’t waste your time learning from Cook Liu,” Shen Che’s voice came from behind Ji Cheng.
As Ji Cheng turned her head, Shen Che reached past her to grab a pancake, rolled it up, and took a bite. “It’s delicious. These need to be eaten while they’re hot; that’s when the edges are crispy.”
Ji Cheng watched Shen Che eat with such relish. Though she was a bit annoyed, she also felt an inexplicable joy. After all, it’s gratifying when someone enjoys the food you’ve prepared so much.
“Make a few more. I’ll take some to Old Luo. The poor fellow has been here for over a decade, and his cooking skills are still nothing to write home about,” Shen Che said.
In the end, Shen Che rolled up ten egg pancakes and took a bowl of mushroom braised chicken to Old Luo. When he returned, he was surprisingly holding a bunch of camellia flowers.
Among all the flowers, Ji Cheng loved camellias the most. She took the flowers and exclaimed in astonishment, “These are Sai Peonies!” The pink and white Sai Peonies were a rare variety of camellia that very few people could successfully grow. She never imagined that Old Luo would have them, let alone cut them so casually. They would have been better left on the branch.
“You’re too wasteful,” Ji Cheng said, looking at Shen Che. She assumed he had cut them, as anyone who owned Sai Peonies would surely be reluctant to separate them from their branches.
“It’s not my doing. Old Luo sent them to you as a thank-you for the mushroom braised chicken. He doesn’t have much to do; his only hobby is growing flowers. He has several pots of Sai Peonies, so you don’t need to feel sorry for him. When flowers are worth picking, they should be picked,” Shen Che explained.
There was no flower vase in the main cabin. Shen Che went out briefly and returned with a foot-and-a-half-tall stone bottle. The stone was naturally shaped, with only a hole dug in the middle to hold the Sai Peonies, giving it a uniquely rustic beauty.
Night had fallen completely, and candles were lit in the cabin. The vase with the camellia flowers was casually placed on the rush mat. Ji Cheng and Shen Che sat opposite each other, eating by lamplight.
There was wine on the table, and aged liquor buried under tree roots. However, Ji Cheng didn’t dare touch it. Ever since the incident at the Lantern Festival, she had become very wary of eating and drinking outside. Fortunately, tonight all the utensils and food were prepared by her own hands; otherwise, she wouldn’t have dared to eat.
The mushroom braised chicken was both savory and appetizing. Shen Che ate several bites before speaking, “Everything here is good – the mountains, the water. The only downside is that it’s not good for the stomach. Now, with Ah Cheng’s culinary skills, we can finally give this place a proper name.”
A mountain dwelling without a name lacks a certain elegance, which is truly regrettable.
After dinner, the task of washing dishes naturally fell to Ji Cheng. Thankfully, she had the hot spring to wash them in; otherwise, the cold mountain spring water would have frozen her hands in the chilly night.
As she bent her head, strands of hair fell forward, obstructing her vision. With her hands covered in grease, it was inconvenient to tuck her hair back. She could only use her elbow to push the hair back, but as soon as she lowered her arm, the hair fell forward again.
A hand reached out from behind to tuck Ji Cheng’s hair behind her ear. There was no need to guess who it was. Ji Cheng leaned forward slightly, avoiding contact with Shen Che.
But Ji Cheng’s action was unnecessary, as Shen Che quickly stepped back after fixing her hair. Ji Cheng turned around, puzzled, to see Shen Che rummaging through a pile of firewood.
“What are you doing?” Ji Cheng asked curiously.
“Looking for a piece of wood to carve a name,” Shen Che replied without turning his head.
Ji Cheng finished cleaning up the kitchen just as Shen Che found a suitable piece of wood. With a swing of the nearby axe, he split off a board of appropriate thickness.
Since they had come to the mountain-dwelling to drink tea, and it was now a dark and windy night, it was the perfect time to brew tea. However, Shen Che was busy carving by the water’s edge, so the task of brewing tea naturally fell to Ji Cheng.
Although the water for brewing tea was drawn directly from the mountain stream, it still needed to be filtered through bamboo tubes and fine sand before use. Such a setup was already in place in the front courtyard, so Ji Cheng didn’t have to go to much trouble.
Ji Cheng ladled water from the clay pot into the copper kettle, quietly waiting for it to boil. She had learned how to brew tea before and had watched Shen Che do it countless times. Even the slowest learner would have picked up the skill by now.
No one spoke. Only the babbling of the stream could be heard, emphasizing the silence of the forest. The soft “shh shh” sound of wood shavings came from under Shen Che’s carving knife as the character “三” (san) took shape.
By the time a pot of tea was ready, Shen Che had finished carving “三好居” (San Hao Ju). He turned and held it up to Ji Cheng’s eyes, asking, “How is it?”
She couldn’t say the calligraphy or carving was good, but “Three Goods Dwelling” truly embodied the good mountains, good water, and good boredom of the place. It was indeed a fitting name.
“I can’t read it,” Ji Cheng replied.
Shen Che wasn’t upset. He took the newly carved plaque to the entrance, and after some hammering, hung it under the eaves.
Meanwhile, Ji Cheng contentedly lifted her teacup, savoring the tea’s aroma as she watched Shen Che bustle about.
The tea was fragrant and mellow, with a sweet aftertaste. The same tea leaves produced a superior taste and aroma compared to usual. Ji Cheng finally understood why Shen Che had chosen this specific location for his mountain tea house.
After finishing his task, Shen Che went to the washroom to bathe and change before reappearing before Ji Cheng, who had brewed a fresh pot of tea for him.
Shen Che took a small sip but didn’t comment, slightly disappointing Ji Cheng.
“If you want to sleep, there is bedding in the cabinet. Just take them out and lay them on the ground,” Shen Che said.
Ji Cheng’s eyelids had been heavy for a while. While Shen Che was bathing and changing, she had even dozed off for a bit with her head on the table. Hearing Shen Che’s words, she didn’t stand on ceremony and went to open the low cabinet against the wall.
Inside were only two quilts and two thin blankets, clean and fragrant, likely recently washed.
Ji Cheng made her bed near the door and, after some thought, laid out the other set of bedding for Shen Che on the side closer to the water.
“I don’t need it. The mountain nights are cool, so you take both sets,” Shen Che said, leaning against a wooden pillar by the water, one leg bent and the other stretched out.
Ji Cheng didn’t argue with Shen Che. The Three Goods Dwelling had one side completely open to the wind. While it wasn’t noticeable during the day, in the quiet of the night, the cold wind was fierce, especially for late February.
Ji Cheng took off her cloak and said to Shen Che, “Then I’ll sleep first,” preparing to slip under the covers.
Shen Che looked at Ji Cheng and said, “You might not sleep comfortably if you don’t take off your outer clothes.”
Ji Cheng blushed and said stiffly, “I’m afraid of the cold.”
Shen Che teased, “If I wanted to do something to you, could you stop me?”
Though his words were unpleasant, they seemed to make sense. Ji Cheng blushed with embarrassment. Had she been thinking too suspiciously of him?
Ji Cheng simply threw back the covers, stood up again, wrapped herself in her cloak, and went to the outside washroom. She didn’t want to undress in front of Shen Che, as it might seem provocative. So she took off her outer robe, wrapped herself tightly in her cloak again, and returned to her bedding. Without looking at Shen Che, she slipped under the covers and buried her head to sleep.
Although Ji Cheng was tired, she couldn’t fall asleep. With her back to Shen Che, she didn’t dare turn over. Pretending to be asleep was the only way to avoid the awkwardness of sharing a room.
The sound of Shen Che’s footsteps echoed in the room. Ji Cheng’s ears perked up, hearing him walk away and then approach again. A shadow fell across her face, and she suddenly sat up, hugging her blanket and retreating.
Shen Che was holding a porcelain box. He sat down by Ji Cheng’s feet and said, “I almost forgot about your foot injury. Take off your sock so we can check it. We don’t want it to get infected.”
Ji Cheng awkwardly said, “Oh,” and then, “Cousin Che, just give me the medicine. I can do it myself.”
Without further comment, Shen Che handed the porcelain box to Ji Cheng and turned to leave.
Ji Cheng turned to face the wall and took off her socks. She unwrapped the handkerchief to find that the bleeding had stopped and a scab had formed. The herbal residue was still on her foot, looking rather unsightly. She was about to wrap herself in her cloak to go to the washroom and clean up when she heard Shen Che call out, “Come and wash the wound.”
Shen Che had found a blue and white porcelain basin decorated with fish and water lilies from somewhere, filled it with hot water, and placed it on the steps by the door.
Although Ji Cheng disliked Shen Che’s attentiveness, she had to admit his thoughtfulness. She moved to sit by the door, looked back to see Shen Che had returned to sit by the wooden pillar near the water, and then bent down to wash her wound. She applied the ointment Shen Che had given her to her foot, put on her socks, and was about to go dump the water when Shen Che said, “Leave it. I’ll take care of it later.”
Ji Cheng hesitated, felt the strong wind by the door, and ultimately let laziness win out. She returned to lie down under the covers.
The sound of a flute reached her ears. Ji Cheng resisted for a moment but finally turned to face Shen Che.
Music comes from the heart. Shen Che’s flute melody contained neither the clash of arms nor unrestrained joy, but only the quiet melancholy of a secluded forest dwelling and a sense of reminiscence.
Ji Cheng looked at Shen Che in the candlelight, in his brocade robe and jade crown, refined and handsome. She had thought that looking at beautiful women could enhance one’s beauty threefold, but she never imagined that looking at a handsome man could make her heart race.
Shen Che’s brows were slightly furrowed, with an inexplicable sadness flowing from his eyes and his flute melody, vastly different from the impression he usually gave. It was precisely this contradiction that made him mysterious, capturing Ji Cheng’s attention.
The flute melody gradually became more passionate, perhaps recalling the beauty and tenderness of a past lover. The music was plaintive, moving Ji Cheng’s heart to melancholy.
Long yearning begets long remembrance; short yearning knows no end. If one had known it would ensnare the heart so, perhaps it would have been better never to have met.
Ji Cheng’s eyes began to moisten, not because she had her own “long remembrance,” but because she was moved by the melody. It was as if the melancholy had wrapped itself around her own heart.
But the woman in that melody wasn’t her. Otherwise, anyone who heard such a longing remembrance would surely have returned.
Ji Cheng felt an indescribable pain in her heart. She was indeed melancholic about someone else’s story, but beyond that melancholy was a deeper sense of her circumstances. She wondered what kind of woman could have taken Shen Che’s heart, making him play such a longing melody on a night in his mountain dwelling.
To say she wasn’t envious would be lying to herself. If Ji Cheng could have won Shen Che’s heart, she wouldn’t have fallen into her current situation.
Ji Cheng was suddenly startled by her thoughts. Was she regretting and feeling melancholic that Shen Che loved another? A hint of panic welled up from the depths of her heart, but she felt it impossible that she could have fallen for Shen Che, as she had never liked men like him. Yet everyone has a desire to conquer, especially those who are competitive and ambitious.
If Ji Cheng weren’t competitive and ambitious, she would have submitted to fate and stayed in Jin to be Mrs. Ling. Faced with someone like Shen Che, she naturally harbored fantasies, wondering if she could take his heart. This competitiveness had little to do with genuine affection.
“Why are you crying?” Shen Che’s voice sounded from across from Ji Cheng.
Hearing this, Ji Cheng touched the corner of her eye and realized tears had been flowing continuously. She propped herself up on her elbow and sat up, saying, “Cousin Che’s flute melody was too moving.” Shen Che’s flute playing was no longer limited to technique but had reached a level that could bewitch people’s hearts. Among the musical masters Ji Cheng knew, even Aunt Hanbi might be slightly inferior to Shen Che.
“Did you understand it?” The mountain wind flickered the candle flame, hiding Shen Che’s face in the alternating light and shadow, making his expression unclear. But his eyes shone like cold stars in the sky.
“Long yearning begets long remembrance,” Ji Cheng recited.
Shen Che said no more, turning his head to gaze at the water in the mountain stream. Ji Cheng watched him, seeing in the shadows what seemed like a lone wolf, solitary in the human world.
Since Ji Cheng couldn’t sleep anyway, she sat up, wrapping her clothes around her. “That lady, is she dead?” she asked.
Shen Che didn’t answer for a long time, so long that Ji Cheng had given up hope and started to regret her indiscretion.
Just as Ji Cheng was about to lie down, she heard Shen Che say, “She’s not dead.”
Not dead? Had the lady fallen in love with someone else or was she already engaged? Ji Cheng quickly dismissed this thought. Given Shen Che’s personality, even if the lady were already married, he would probably still try to take her away.
Was it because of her lowly birth? Ji Cheng thought again, even if her background wasn’t good, couldn’t she be taken in as a concubine or kept as a mistress outside?
Ji Cheng couldn’t figure out the reason. It felt like hearing only half a story, with the ending frustratingly withheld.
“Then what happened?” Ji Cheng asked.
“She’s unwilling to be a concubine, and she’s unwilling to be kept outside,” Shen Che said.
Hearing this, Ji Cheng’s heart filled with admiration for that lady. She wanted to meet her, wondering what kind of remarkable woman she must be – confident and resolute, able to leave and still be so remembered by Shen Che.
Ji Cheng had already guessed the lady’s background. According to Shen Che, the old madam only asked him to marry and have children, so even a poor family background wouldn’t matter. Therefore, that lady must have had an unclear background that prevented her from marrying into the Shen family.
Ji Cheng never imagined that Shen Che, this playboy, would fall for a courtesan and that this courtesan was so proud that he couldn’t have her. Thinking of this, Ji Cheng couldn’t help but feel a bit of schadenfreude. She only hoped that the lady wouldn’t soften her heart and give in to Shen Che. Once he got what he wanted, the “long remembrance” would likely turn into “having second thoughts.”
Having discussed such private matters, it seemed the relationship between the two had taken a big step forward. In Ji Cheng’s view, it turned out that Shen Che wasn’t that omnipotent, lofty Lord Jing after all. He too had weaknesses, things, and people he couldn’t obtain.