How could Shen Che not understand that Old Luo was teasing him? However, he wasn’t in the mood to argue with Old Luo and simply asked, “Do you have any wine or not?”
“Yes, it’s been buried under the tree roots for ten years. Today’s your lucky day; I’ll go dig it out.”
The ten-year-old Daughter Red wine had a golden hue and an intoxicating aroma. After finishing a jar, even Old Luo felt a bit dizzy. Looking at Shen Che, however, his gaze seemed clearer than before drinking.
This was a case of “drowning sorrows in wine only to find more sorrow.”
“The kick of this wine is too weak,” Shen Che said, savoring the last cup with lingering desire.
Old Luo retorted, “I’ve never seen someone eat and drink for free and still be so picky. Do you think the wine doesn’t have enough kick? Come on, let’s spar a bit, and you’ll feel the kick then.”
Shen Che raised an eyebrow and said, “It seems I misspoke. Does this wine of yours have a story behind it? Ten-year Daughter Red, who was it prepared for?”
“It was prepared for your wedding. If you’d waited another ten or fifteen years to marry, you’d have had a twenty-year Daughter Red with a real kick,” Old Luo replied.
“Who told you I was getting married?” Shen Che asked, puzzled.
Old Luo just smiled without answering, “Enough talk, let’s get to it.”
Before Old Luo finished speaking, he had already made two moves. In an instant, the two men had moved four or five zhang away from the small thatched hut. They fought as they moved, and within the time it took to drink a cup of tea, they had exchanged over fifty moves. If someone had been watching, they probably couldn’t have seen clearly how they were attacking; they would only have seen a flurry of fists and kicks.
“No more, no more,” Old Luo panted, clutching his waist as he floated down from the treetops, looking as if he was about to collapse.
Despite his appearance, Old Luo said, “You’re not up to par. In the past, when have I ever lasted more than a hundred moves against you? This time, we’ve gone over five hundred moves, and you still can’t finish me off.”
Shen Che floated down from the tree, seemingly ignoring Old Luo’s words.
“Tsk, tsk, your heart mirror is shattered. What a pity, what a pity.”
Shen Che’s martial art was profound and mysterious, emphasizing a heart as calm as a mirror, empty and natural, able to perceive all things and anticipate every move. Before his heart mirror shattered, Old Luo’s every action would have been clear to his mystical eyes, and Old Luo naturally wouldn’t have lasted a hundred moves.
Now, with the heart mirror broken, he was bound to be mocked.
Old Luo patted Shen Che’s shoulder smugly, “But there’s nothing to regret. This martial art of yours never made sense anyway, and there’s no joy in learning it. What’s all this about emptiness and naturalness? You might as well become a monk. When you get to my age, you’ll understand that all the supreme martial arts in the world are nothing but nonsense. When you’re old and alone, without even someone to cook for you, keep the fire going, or warm your bed, what’s the point of it all?”
Shen Che said, “If you have something to say, just say it.”
Old Luo smiled sheepishly, “Don’t blame me for gloating, but who got the better of you? Was it that girl you brought last time?”
Shen Che asked, “How do you know it was her and not someone or something else?”
Old Luo replied, “Do I even need to explain? She cooked so well that if you weren’t protecting her, I’d have kept her on the mountain to cook for me every day. Besides, a young lady who can manage the household, cook in the kitchen, and please in the bedroom – if you didn’t fall for her, who else could you fall for?”
Hearing this, Shen Che frowned, “I never thought that at your age, you’d still have the bad habit of eavesdropping.”
Old Luo, of course, wouldn’t admit it, “I just wanted to thank her with some game I’d hunted. Who knew you two would be carrying on so shamelessly without even trying to be quiet? You accuse me of eavesdropping, but I could say you have no shame.”
Human emotions are natural expressions; how could that be shameless? Recalling the events of that day, Shen Che wanted to smile, but he couldn’t manage it. Ji Cheng’s image from that day was still vivid in his mind; he had been blind to the obvious.
Old Luo patted Shen Che’s shoulder again, “Don’t blame me for lecturing you, but it’s only when you reach this age that you understand what’s truly valuable. Martial arts can be relearned if lost, but once a person is gone, you can’t get them back.”
Shen Che said, “What’s the use of getting back a woman who wants nothing more than to kill you?”
Old Luo looked at Shen Che in surprise, the complexity, and difficulty of the problem exceeding his imagination, “If she’s already given herself to you, why would she want to kill you?”
Shen Che laughed self-mockingly, “Perhaps it’s because she gave herself to me that she wants to kill me.”
“Perhaps?” This time, Old Luo looked at Shen Che with both shock and bewilderment. Everyone knew what Shen Che did for a living, but Old Luo knew better than most. “You don’t know why that girl wants to kill you?”
A hint of shame and anger flashed across Shen Che’s face. Didn’t he want to know the reason? Why else had he rushed back to the capital overnight, disregarding his injuries? Wasn’t it just to ask Ji Cheng face-to-face, “Why?”
Although Shen Che had early on sensed Ji Cheng’s calculations, when Zhe Li appeared in the Western Regions, the disappointment-induced anger in Shen Che’s heart made him want to fly immediately to Ji Cheng’s side and ask her why.
Shen Che couldn’t help but mock his state of mind at the time, never expecting that he would have such foolish thoughts. He had outsmarted her, and dealing with Zhe Li didn’t necessarily require a life-and-death struggle. That sword had missed his heart by barely half an inch – Shen Che had indeed done it on purpose. He just wanted to know if he died like that, what would Ji Cheng think? Would she be pleased and unrestrained?
Or would she regret it?
With a self-destructive intentionality, Shen Che knew how ridiculous he was the moment he saw Ji Cheng upon returning to the capital. In Ji Cheng’s eyes, there was hatred, panic, and hesitation, but none of the other emotions Shen Che had hoped to see.
At that moment, he lost his heart, and sure enough, it turned out as he had expected. Ji Cheng had long prepared an escape route; everything had been planned for a long time. It wasn’t, as he had optimistically thought, just a moment of anger.
Shen Che thought that if given another chance to kill him, Ji Cheng probably wouldn’t hesitate at all.
Remembering this inevitably made him feel disheartened. Shen Che looked at the empty wine cup and said, “Does it matter whether I know the reason or not?”
“How could it not matter? If you don’t know the reason, how can you correct yourself?” Old Luo put away the wine cup and, since Shen Che wasn’t brewing tea, poured him a cup of mountain spring water.
Shen Che sneered, seemingly finding it extremely ridiculous, and slowly uttered a few words, “Me? Correct me?”
“If not you, then who? I’ve already said, the young lady has given herself to you. If you hadn’t done something wrong, how could she want to kill you?” Old Luo was truly soft-hearted when it came to food; Ji Cheng could never have imagined that a few wild vegetable pancakes would win Old Luo’s heart.
Old Luo sighed and continued, “If I hadn’t been so young and impulsive back then, I wouldn’t be all alone now. It’s okay if you can’t understand now, just think about who you’d want by your side when you’re my age. If it’s not her, then vent your anger if you’re angry, take your revenge if you want revenge.”
Everyone has their own sad story, and Old Luo was no exception. His lonely old age in the mountains was indeed a perfect counterexample, very persuasive.
After Shen Che left, Old Luo sat there for a while before cursing, “Damn it, he can’t bring himself to say it, so he waits for me to say these things?”
Old Luo shook his head, amused. How could Shen Che not know about his youthful affairs?
The wooden sign of San Hao Ju still lay on the ground. Shen Che only glanced at it before shifting his gaze to the kitchen door beside the wooden house. He slowly walked over and pushed the door open.
The warmth in the kitchen remained as if the stove was still burning with firewood. It was as if that person was still there, wielding the wok spatula, with sweat on the tip of her nose. Even with her natural beauty, in the small space of the kitchen, she had the air of mortal life, making one feel extra secure.
From the kitchen to the rush mat-covered living area, the scent of peach fruit seemed to still linger among the rafters. A person was lying prone on the rush mat, with a snow-white spinal groove leading down to a waist dimple filled with intoxicating fruit wine.
Unfortunately, Shen Che wasn’t drunk enough to confuse reality with illusions. The mountain wind was quiet, the birds were silent, and only empty wind passed through the house – there was no human figure.
Shen Che lay down on the rush mat, using one arm as a pillow. He had thought it would be another sleepless night, but he didn’t know when he had closed his eyes.
He was aware that he had closed his eyes, yet somehow he saw Ji Cheng walking up from the mountain stream. She looked so real that Shen Che could even see the wrinkles in her thin ice-blue dress as it clung to her legs in the wind.
Ji Cheng’s appearance tended towards coolness, as thin as a wisp of smoke in the mountain mist, making one resent even the clear breeze for fear of dispersing her; as cold as the snow still lingering on the mountain peak in early spring, pristine and reflecting the blue of the sky, making one resent even the warm sun, lest it melt that handful of snow.
When she wore ice blue, she especially made one think of thin snow wrapped around milk curd.
Shen Che held his breath, thinking it was another illusion until Ji Cheng reached out to push him. Only then did he dare to open his eyes.
There were tears in her eyes, her hands still resting on his arms. He heard her call him, “Ache.”
Shen Che didn’t move at all, just looking at Ji Cheng as she bent over, looking into his eyes. The summer’s thin shirt had a very wide neckline, revealing a patch of sugar-frosted snow. Her clothes were always very distinctive, with a gold chain around her waist fastened with hollow begonia-shaped gold pieces, clinging to her flat belly, making it impossible to look away.
“You really won’t pay attention to me?” Ji Cheng asked, “If you truly don’t want to bother with me anymore, I won’t come to trouble you again.”
Shen Che still didn’t move.
Sure enough, she stood up, turned and left. The hem of her skirt swept across his nose as she turned, tickling him, just like his restless heart.
Seeing Ji Cheng about to walk into the mountain stream, Shen Che suddenly stood up, took a few steps forward, and embraced her from behind. “What kind of strange temper is this? You’re so heartless, yet you won’t let me be angry with you for a couple of days?”
Because they were so close, the fragrance from her neck unexpectedly entered Shen Che’s nose, enveloping his entire heart in a peach orchard.
A man’s expression of emotions is always direct and greedy. Shen Che’s desire and joy were all imprinted in his eager kisses and his unrestrained palms.
Ji Cheng was unusually docile and offered no resistance, allowing him to do as he pleased. This was the best bridge between them. In just two or three moves, Shen Che’s hands had removed the covering and grasped the cool snow beneath.
The sugar frost was like snow, and beneath the snow was nectar and jade liquid. One sip felt like sweet dew after a long drought, so sweet that it made one’s heart tremble.
Ji Cheng was uncharacteristically obedient, her soft body lying powerless in his arms. Her eyes were filled with a tenderness that made one’s heart bloom with joy. Her face was flushed like a peach, the corners of her mouth curved upwards, whimpering softly. Only occasionally, when his force was not well controlled and became a bit too heavy, would she mew like a shy, coquettish kitten. That sound seemed to be made of smooth milk, permeating every crevice of his bones, every part of him clamoring with joy.
It was precisely because this moment was so beautiful that it made one feel even more aggrieved about those not-so-beautiful things. Shen Che gently bit the sweetest fruit and murmured, “We’re so good together, so why were you so heartless to me back then?”
This sentence, like a final note, ended all the sweetness. Shen Che saw the person beneath him suddenly disperse into a cloud, splitting into two parts and floating away from under him, only reforming into a human shape in the mountain stream.
“Acheng!” Shen Che called out anxiously.