Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 105: Harmony

Chapter 105: Harmony

At the dawn of Qi Yan’s reign in Jin, there were countless matters to be handled—memorials from every region flowed endlessly to the court. Night after night, he and Wei Zhen worked by candlelight, reviewing affairs of state until the deepest hours.

More than once, Qi Yan would see the candle burned halfway down and find Wei Zhen dozing at the desk; he would carry her to bed, heart full of tenderness. Life was hectic—the strife of dynastic transition left little space for ease.

But as summer ceded to early autumn, at last the pair resolved most of the thorny issues; new policies were implemented step by step, and order on the court was restored.

Taking this opportunity, Qi Yan and Wei Zhen left the palace for the south—partly because the southern territories of Chu had only just been incorporated and the emperor’s inspection would pacify local hearts, but mostly for the chance to travel and refresh their spirits together.

They rode side by side, galloping out from the bustling capital, through villages wreathed in cooking smoke, across boundless oceans of green, beneath shifting clouds and mists at first light…

“Hyah!”

One day, the pair reined in before a palace on the frontier—red-lacquered gates half-hidden amid thick grass. Palace staff had clearly been long awaiting their arrival.

Qi Yan turned and said, “Ah Zhen, we’re here.”

Wei Zhen’s hair streamed in the breeze, her gaze fixed on the palace gate. A faint sense of familiarity welled up. She asked, “What is this place?”

Qi Yan replied, “A former Chu palace on the Jin-Chu border—backed by forest, facing the river, a place of beautiful scenery. The staff have prepared everything in advance—we’ll stay for a few days. What do you think?”

Seated on horseback, her eyes misty as smoke, Wei Zhen felt a strange surge of recognition. Sensing her unease, Qi Yan asked, “Something wrong?”

She recovered herself and smiled. “Nothing—only, the view here is extraordinary. Come, let’s look inside.”

She hadn’t expected he would bring her to the Jiangling Palace—the very retreat where she’d spent the end of her past life.

In her prior life, having lost her sight, she’d never seen a single blade or bough of this place, but everything felt eerily familiar. When she took a step, it was as if her feet already knew the way.

They entered a tall pavilion. Wei Zhen sat by the window and pushed it open; the vista burst before her eyes—sand gulls gliding, the river gleaming as a mirror, dappled light on the water’s skin.

In her former life, she had always listened to the surging tides beyond the window but never imagined the view would be as striking as a painted scroll.

She smiled faintly, glancing back. Qi Yan was pouring tea for her, holding out the cup as he asked kindly, “Thirsty? Would you like some tea?”

Wei Zhen’s heart skipped—just for a moment, the man before her overlapped with the blurred figure deep in her memory.

She approached, brushing her hand over his cheek. “I’m not tired. I want to explore the palace grounds. Come with me?”

Naturally, Qi Yan agreed, walking hand in hand with her, leading his Starry Night colt with the other, into the mountain stream.

Wei Zhen glanced at their joined hands; the strength in his palm made her feel especially secure.

The day was glorious. Noticing sunlight glimmering on him, she said, “There’s a flower valley up in the mountains, not far from here. Wildflowers of every sort bloom there—we should go see it.”

Qi Yan turned, one brow arched, a teasing smile: “Haven’t we both never been here before? How do you know?”

Because you told me so in our past life, she thought.

“I guessed. Don’t every mountain have a flower valley?”

She grinned, lifted her skirt, and walked with him, shoulder to shoulder.

She’d never beheld those flowers herself—only imagined them from Qi Yan’s descriptions in her former life. He’d told her that when the mountain winds blew, the blossoms surged and trembled like waves on a jeweled ocean, and when she drifted through that sea, the mist would cling to her hem, casting the air in moving light.

They reached the flower valley at last. The sight swept into her eyes—bright, resplendent, a carpet of blossoms. She cupped her hands and called out over the valley, then seized Qi Yan’s hand, running together into the flowers.

So he hadn’t lied after all.

They chased and laughed amid the blooms, and when they tired they crouched together on the edge. Qi Yan saw joy shining in her eyes: “Ah Zhen, do you really like it here?”

“Very much.” She stooped, gathering flowers by her feet. “The Jiangling palace is so quiet—no endless documents to read. It’s far more pleasant than the Jin capital.”

Qi Yan gave a soft laugh. “Then let’s use this time to stay longer out here.”

His gaze grew serious. “Ah Zhen. I know freedom means much to you. Lately, you’ve been confined to the palace—it must have weighed heavily.”

She hugged his arm. “What’s there to complain of? I’m content just being by your side.”

Qi Yan produced something from his hand—a tiny bracelet woven of fresh flowers. She picked it up and slipped it on.

He watched her beam. “Do you like it?”

She nodded. The white buds chimed softly as she moved, delicate and lovely. Hand in hand with her and the horse, Qi Yan led her onward.

Leaving the flower valley, they neared a bamboo grove—when, unexpectedly, rain cascaded from the sky.

Without umbrellas, they dashed into the bamboo, sheltering from the downpour.

The dense bamboo stretched endlessly, the rain racing above them like rushing streams, drops pattering down. Soon they stopped trying to block the rain. They strolled together, soaked, yet neither felt discomfort—instead, there was a sense of liberated ease and lightheartedness.

Mountain rain fell in torrents, yet the blazing sun still shone above, rays filtering through the tree crowns to illuminate their path ahead.

They quickly found a cave to rest from the rain. Wei Zhen sat at the mouth, reaching out to catch water, her mood undampened by the sudden storm. Qi Yan gathered firewood and lit a blaze.

Wei Zhen came to him. “Are you cold? Take off your wet clothes and warm up.”

Looking into his dark, crystalline eyes, she felt keenly how today, after rain and wandering the forest, nothing marred their mood. On this point, they were spiritually perfectly attuned.

Qi Yan peeled off his robe, soon left in just an undergarment. His build was broad-shouldered and slim-waisted, his muscles elegantly molded—youth’s awkwardness shed for the maturity of a man. Wei Zhen looked up and found his gaze, burning, locked onto hers. Caught, she turned away, her ears heating.

Turning her back, she spread his robe before the fire to dry.

His voice sounded from behind, low and intimate: “Aren’t you going to undress too?”

She, too, was drenched, and eventually donned fresh clothes. They warmed themselves together at the fire, waiting for the rain to abate.

They chattered idly; Wei Zhen leaned on his shoulder, savoring the tranquil moment. Suddenly, she was struck by a memory—of hiding from rain together in a cave in her past life, his arms around her for warmth. She wondered—was this perhaps the very same cave?

Just then—“shua la la”—from within the cave came a sound, like water mingling with the rain outside, easily missed.

They walked together deeper inside. There, before them, was a hot spring, vapors curling and clouds rising, sunlight filtering through the cave’s crown, so things were not too dim.

Qi Yan approached the pool, scooped water in his hand. “Would you like to come in and soak?”

Sitting at the edge, she trailed her foot in the water. Qi Yan swam over, set his hand on her knee, face upturned, asking, “Still not coming?”

His hand slid up from her knee to her sash; hastily, Wei Zhen covered his hand as she felt him teasing away at her girdle.

In a sudden splash, he tugged her into the water.

The heat surrounded her, seeping into her limbs and bones. Her long hair floated on the surface, and looking into his deep eyes, she truly felt at ease—if a little vulnerable, now fully exposed in the spring.

He drew close, wrapping his arms around her in the water. “We can stay here a little while longer.”

He was too close for comfort. Wei Zhen blushed, her cheeks flushed from the fragrant mist.

Pressing her forehead to his, she whispered, “I think I hear palace attendants searching for us outside.”

“Do you want to go back, then?” Qi Yan’s voice was hoarse, dark.

His eyes seemed to heat her whole body. His fingertips slipped between hers, pulling her hand to rest against his hard abdomen. Wei Zhen gently shook her head.

“Then let’s stay just a bit longer.”

Before long, the water churned into a flurry of ripples.

Their shadows, entwined, stretched across the cave wall. Leaning against the poolside, Wei Zhen was held, trapped between his chest and the rock. Her jade bracelet struck the stone: ding-dong, ding-dong, crystalline notes rang out, mixing with Qi Yan’s growing breaths—echoing in her ears.

His lips traced down her neck, flowing across her skin like the surrounding water.

Steam rose, droplets splashed.

“Lan Jing, Lan Jing…” She gasped, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering, neck exposed as she called his name in his arms.

The spring murmured against the stones. The rain fell on. The light outside dimmed. In the end, Wei Zhen was utterly spent, corner of her eyes red, murmuring, “I can’t anymore,” limp in his embrace.

Exhausted almost beyond consciousness, she sensed only being lifted out of the water. Outside, the mountain rain hadn’t stopped. He dressed her in dry clothes and held her close.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling against him. Qi Yan brushed her damp hair from her face; he looked at her, cheeks still flushed, hands gentle—satisfaction and joy radiating between the two of them.

He glanced toward the cave entrance, a faint smile curving his lips. “Sleep now. I’ll watch the weather. When the rain clears, I’ll call you.”

She murmured assent, drowsy in his arms.

Cloaked in the roar of rain, the world outside shrank to a little pocket of peace.

Her breathing slowly grew steady—she seemed to drift off. Qi Yan looked around the cave, feeling as if some invisible power had drawn him here.

A faint, inexpressible strangeness gripped his heart. Lowering his head to gaze at her tranquil, sleeping profile, the sensation quickly faded. He let go his thoughts.

The rain poured. His own consciousness slipped under, into sleep.

He dreamed a long, continuous dream: a different life, enveloped in fog—it was impossible to tell which memories were reality.

Their first meeting: it was still that night in the rain. She had accidentally wounded the sixth prince, Jing Ke, and after escaping, encountered Qi Yan, tasked with catching the intruder, in the palace corridors.

Footnotes and Contextual Notes:

• • The recurrence of the hot spring cave (“温泉”) is a classic motif for bonding and intimacy in Chinese literature, often symbolizing vulnerability and cleansing.

• • The scene in the flower valley—wildflowers as a “flowing jewel sea”—draws on a long Chinese tradition of the “sea of blossoms” and natural imagery for romance and rebirth.

• • The wrist bangle striking the pool: in classical texts, the “jade bracelet” symbolizes purity and a woman’s fate, here echoing the merging of sound, sensation, and emotion.