Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 28: Chuchu

 

The water waves kept surging, lapping against Qi Yan’s calves, spreading out in ripples.

She blurted out that request in an instant, and as she spoke, her voice grew weaker. Even she knew how inappropriate those words were…

How ambiguous.

“You can’t see?” Qi Yan asked, his back still turned to her.

“Mm, the maid who went to fetch my clothes hasn’t returned yet. I can wait for her a little longer, there’s no need to trouble the young general.”

Qi Yan replied, “Alright.”

He stepped out of the river, walked to the shore, picked up the scattered clothes in the grass, and dressed himself. Then, he turned back toward the creek.

A silver moon hung in the sky, and below, a spring nestled within the mountains. A young girl leaned alone against a creek stone, the rippling water occasionally lapping over her shoulders. Amidst the shimmering waves, she seemed to be bathed in a layer of clear, silver radiance.

But her face was deathly pale, damp strands of hair clinging to her cheeks. Her eyes had lost their light, resembling a startled fawn—utterly delicate and pitiful.

They were deep in the wilderness, and night was fast approaching. Qi Yan naturally couldn’t just leave her there alone. Without looking at her again, he lifted his robe and sat down by the grass, waiting with her for the maid’s return.

Half an incense stick’s time passed, yet the maid still hadn’t appeared.

Qi Yan rested his chin on his hand, gazing toward the distant mountain peaks. Night had fully fallen, and the moon had climbed completely over the mountaintop.

He waited a while longer, but still, no one came. Finally, he let out a sigh, stood up, and walked toward the creek.

The water rose past his ankles, and as the sound of the flowing stream echoed, the girl in the water clutched the creek stone, turning her head warily. Her gaze was full of fear.

It seemed that every time night fell and her vision failed her, the rare moments of vulnerability she showed were always witnessed by him.

“It’s me.”

At the sound of his voice, the panic in Wei Zhen’s eyes faded significantly. She softly called out, “Young General.”

Qi Yan lowered his gaze and quickly spotted the floating garments on the water’s surface.

Her undergarments drifted atop the creek, and when Qi Yan grasped the fabric, the embroidered lotus pattern lightly brushed against his wrist, sending a faint tremor through his palm.

The girl clutched her shoulders, slowly turning around. But in order to take the clothing, she had to free up one hand, causing the water to ripple even more. Some things simply couldn’t be concealed beneath the surface.

Qi Yan averted his face, looking only at the lake beside him.

Handing her the clothes was one thing; her putting them on was another.

The garments, now wet, had become heavy and clung together. She struggled for a long time but still couldn’t put them on properly, eventually resorting to merely holding the fabric loosely over her chest.

Qi Yan stood with his back to her, listening to the sound of water splashing behind him. She spoke up, “Young General, could you help me?”

Help with what?

Qi Yan let out a light chuckle, biting his teeth as he stared at the moonlit mountaintop.

A thin layer of sweat gathered at the tip of his nose. His hands, hardened by years of wielding a sword—hands that had never softened even on the battlefield—were now tingling at the fingertips.

Ripples lapped at him one after another. She swam toward him, her voice carrying a soft plea: “Young General, I really can’t see. Could you lead me to shore?”

Did he have another choice?

Qi Yan exhaled in resignation, closed his eyes for a moment, then turned back and crouched down.

The girl was right in front of him, her hands clutching the fabric to her chest. Before he could speak, she hurriedly said, “Young General, I won’t say a word about this. You don’t have to take responsibility or anything—just pretend this never happened!”

Then, in a questioning tone, she softly asked, “Alright?”

Her eyes were as clear and luminous as a brook filled with stardust.

Qi Yan looked into them and said, “You can swim, can’t you? I’ll lead you to shore.”

Wei Zhen nodded. A slender, snow-white arm extended from the water, and Qi Yan grasped her hand, walking ahead and leading her to the bank.

She hadn’t actually been that far from shore, but when a person loses their sight, the darkness amplifies everything around them.

Wei Zhen knelt by the bank, coughing up a few mouthfuls of water. Qi Yan let go of her to retrieve his horse while she reached for the neatly folded dry clothes on a rock and put them on.

When she grabbed her inner garment, she accidentally tied a dead knot in the fastening strings. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t undo it, so she simply gave up on wearing it, pulling on only the underdress and fastening the sash.

She had overestimated the fabric’s coverage.

In the summer heat, the material was already exceptionally thin, and the underdress even more so. It barely concealed anything.

If she had an outer robe, it would have been fine—but her maid had forgotten to bring one. She had no choice but to make do with just a single layer of clothing.

“Are you dressed?” Qi Yan’s voice came from behind.

Wei Zhen nodded and placed a hand on the stone to push herself up.

Just as he uttered, “Be careful,” she tripped over a hard rock by her foot, losing her balance entirely.

She fell directly into a firm embrace.

Qi Yan caught her in time. Her soft body pressed against his solid chest, his damp scent still clinging to him. His voice rang above her head: “Your foot is injured.”

A sharp pain surged up her leg. She could barely stand.

Sitting back down on the stone, Qi Yan crouched before her, his hand cupping her ankle as he gently lifted it.

At the lightest touch, she let out a soft cry of pain.

Qi Yan immediately eased his grip, rubbing the wound gently. Wei Zhen’s calf trembled slightly, her toes pressing against his knee, drawn taut with tension.

Her hands braced against the stone at her sides, tilting her head back as her throat bobbed lightly.

“Does this feel better?” Qi Yan asked, tearing a piece of fabric from his robe to bandage her wound.

He had tended to her injuries before, yet this time felt far more awkward.

Wei Zhen’s pale cheeks flushed faintly. She murmured, “Much better.”

She dared not linger any longer, knowing how disheveled her clothing was.

As she had feared, with only the underdress on, her figure was perfectly outlined.

With Qi Yan’s help, she rose to her feet. But as soon as she took a step, the pain in her ankle flared up, making walking nearly impossible.

“Young General, I really can’t move like this. Could you go outside and call my maid for me?”

“It’s already late. Leaving you alone in the woods isn’t safe.”

Wei Zhen bit her lip, trying to think of another solution.

After a moment of silence, she heard a rustling sound—and then, a robe was draped over her shoulders.

She lifted her hand to touch the fabric at her shoulders and recognized it as his.

Qi Yan said, “Your maid hasn’t returned after so long—something must have happened. If you really can’t walk, I’ll carry you back. Is that alright?”

The night breeze carried his deep, mellow voice. Strands of her hair fluttered around her ears.

She softly replied, “Then I’ll trouble the Young General.”

He crouched down in front of her, and she slowly leaned onto him, pressing her body against his solid back.

His broad hands supported her slender thighs, lifting her higher.

The thin calluses on his palms brushed against the skin of her legs, sending a shiver racing upward. Wei Zhen’s face, resting against his shoulder, gradually flushed a deep red.

“Are you alright, Young General?” Even her voice had changed, carrying a delicate tremor.

Qi Yan didn’t answer.

Uneasy, Wei Zhen shifted slightly to ease his burden.

Qi Yan’s Adam’s apple bobbed subtly.

The moment she pressed against him, a thin layer of sweat appeared at his temples. Some things between men and women were simply impossible to ignore.

Especially when, each time she spoke, the rise and fall of her chest made his neck even stiffer.

His voice remained steady: “I’m fine.”

He carried her forward, while Wei Zhen wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

Neither of them felt at ease.

Nestled against his back, surrounded by his powerful presence, Wei Zhen’s defenses crumbled.

Wei Zhen tried her best to ignore the discomfort and called him, “Qi Yan.”

She called him Qi Yan, not “Young General.”

Qi Yan turned his head slightly. “Hm?”

Under the silent moonlight, the girl’s skin glowed with a soft luster, as pure as jade and as delicate as a flower. Her damp long hair slipped from her shoulder and fell in front of him. She asked, “Why have you been avoiding me these past few days?”

At this question, Qi Yan’s eyes trembled. Even though Wei Zhen couldn’t see, he still averted his gaze from hers.

He said, “I haven’t been avoiding you. Why would you say that?”

“Really? Every day, you go to the front of the convoy. Don’t tell me it’s because you need to lead the troops—does the convoy not have people who know the way? Does it really have to be you leading in front?”

She preempted the excuse Qi Yan had prepared. He was momentarily speechless.

Wei Zhen asked, “Or is it that I did something to upset you? Tell me.”

Qi Yan replied, “No.”

She leaned in, her cheek pressing against his, and her body unintentionally slid downward. Qi Yan lifted her up slightly. The soft warmth of her body suddenly collided against his back, and this movement instantly made Wei Zhen’s face flush red.

A moment later, he, too, realized something was amiss.

The awkward atmosphere lasted for quite a while before he finally spoke. “If you want me to come back and accompany you, I’ll come to your carriage tomorrow.”

Wei Zhen buried her head in the crook of his neck and murmured, “It’s not that I must have the Young General return. If the Young General has other matters to attend to, then you should tend to them first.”

“Other than escorting you, I have nothing else to attend to.”

Wei Zhen still hadn’t recovered from the moment she had crashed against him. Her burning cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The breath of the girl stirred the hollow of his throat, causing his slender neck to tilt slightly upward.

Then, the hands Qi Yan used to hold her legs suddenly tightened, his fingers clenching so hard that they wrinkled the fabric. Wei Zhen felt a pang of pain but didn’t dare to say anything, afraid that it was because she was too slippery, making it difficult for him to carry her, and that was why he had to use such force.

After all, these were hands that could draw a three-stone bow—their strength was immense. Wei Zhen thought that when she returned, there would surely be red marks on her thighs.

She kept slipping down, and Qi Yan had to constantly lift her back up. The journey was torturous for both of them.

Unknowingly, they neared the edge of the forest. In the distance, campfires flickered, sparks drifting with the evening breeze, the firelight illuminating Wei Zhen’s vision.

“The Young General and the Princess have returned!”

Someone in the camp was the first to notice the pair emerging from the forest and shouted out, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

Wei Zhen clung tightly to the person in front of her. “Young General, don’t put me down here.”

Qi Yan understood her concerns—she was only wearing an inner garment, with nothing but his outer robe covering her. She was in no condition to be seen by others.

Especially when the camp was filled with male soldiers.

“I’ll carry you to your carriage, alright?” The boy’s voice carried a slight upward lilt, magnetic and deep.

A tingling warmth spread through Wei Zhen’s heart. She whispered, “Alright.”

At the camp entrance, Wei Ling was just about to enter the forest to look for them. Hearing that Wei Zhen had returned, he quickly stepped forward. Seeing Qi Yan, he was slightly surprised but said nothing. He only turned to Wei Zhen and said,

“Sister, you were in the forest for so long without coming out. I was worried but couldn’t go in directly. I was just about to take some men to search for you.”

Wei Zhen explained, “It’s nothing. I twisted my ankle earlier, and thanks to the Young General, I was able to return. Have you seen my maid, Liang Chan?”

“Liang Chan was caught in a hunting trap in the forest—her ankle was injured. The medics are treating her wounds right now. She was just found and brought back. There are quite a few traps left by hunters in that forest.”

Wei Ling nodded at Qi Yan and then moved to help Wei Zhen down.

Wei Zhen quickly stopped him. “No need.”

Wei Ling’s expression turned a bit odd. Just then, from behind him, a tall figure emerged from the darkness—it was the Crown Prince, Jing Heng.

Jing Heng’s gaze swept over the two of them, finally landing on the men’s robe Wei Zhen was wearing. He asked, “What were you two doing that you’re only returning at this hour?”

Wei Zhen didn’t want to explain and whispered into Qi Yan’s ear, “Let’s go.”

The gathered maids parted to make way. They saw the beautiful young lady leaning against the young general’s back—she had always been ethereal, but now, with her long hair cascading down and the moonlight enveloping her in a soft glow, she seemed even more unworldly, a natural beauty untouched by artifice.

Wei Ling dispersed the soldiers around the carriage.

Once inside, Qi Yan set Wei Zhen down. “I’ll take my leave now.”

The beauty sat on the floor, the outer robe slipping from her shoulders. Her inner garment was loose, revealing a smooth, glistening shoulder. Her snow-white thigh rested against the vibrant tiger pelt beneath her, creating a striking visual contrast.

The carriage was lit by candlelight. Wei Zhen quickly grabbed his outer robe and draped it over her front to cover her exposed thigh.

Yet, rather than concealing, the act only accentuated the allure.

Wei Zhen felt his gaze land on her, and her throat tightened.

He didn’t say anything. He simply turned, lifted the curtain, and was about to step out when a slender hand reached out and tugged at his sleeve.

“I’ve fallen behind on my qin(zither) lessons. The Young General promised to teach me—have you forgotten?”

“I remember,” Qi Yan’s voice was calm. “I’ll come later.”

Where she couldn’t see, the hand he pressed against the carriage wall was taut, veins bulging as if he were restraining some emotion.

Two scorching gazes locked onto each other, neither willing to back down. It was like a battle between a man and a woman, waiting to see who would show hesitation first.

She released his sleeve. “Alright. Then I’ll wait for the Young General.”

Qi Yan nodded, saluted, and left the carriage.

Not long after he stepped down, a voice called out behind him. “Qi Yan!”

Wei Ling approached, eyes filled with suspicion. “What exactly happened between you and my sister in the forest?”

Qi Yan replied, “Nothing.”

Wei Ling pressed, “Really?”

Qi Yan nodded. Wei Ling sighed, then stepped forward and slung an arm around his good friend’s shoulders. “It’s not that I doubt you, but I have to be extra cautious these days. The escort team is full of soldiers, all men. Who knows what thoughts they might have about my sister? I need your help to keep an eye on them—don’t let anyone with bad intentions get close to her. Can I count on you?”

Qi Yan chuckled. “Alright.”

Wei Ling clenched his fist and lightly punched Qi Yan’s shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

After exchanging a few more words, Qi Yan returned to his carriage, changed into a clean set of clothes, and did not immediately go to see Wei Zhen. Instead, he sat in silence, looking out the window.

The night wind was cool, the wilderness quiet, and fireflies flickered in the darkness.

He waited for a long while until the discomfort in his body gradually subsided before he finally stepped down from the carriage.

“You’re here.”

Inside the carriage, Wei Zhen saw Qi Yan enter, the corners of her lips lifting in a smile.

Before her sat a guqin, simple yet elegant.

She wore only a single silver hairpin in her long, flowing hair, and her moon-white dress cascaded onto the floor like frost and snow.

The outer robe he had lent her was neatly folded and placed to the side.

Qi Yan knelt across from her, placing his hand on the strings, drawing out a clear, crisp note.

He began his lesson directly. “The ancient sage Fuxi carved wood to create the qin. The phoenix perched upon the paulownia tree, and silk was strung into strings. Since you wish to learn, you must first understand the instrument’s structure.”

His voice, under the moonlight, was like a stream flowing gently through the mountains.

Wei Zhen’s bright eyes shimmered as if listening intently.

Qi Yan first taught her the playing techniques. As he lowered his head, plucking the strings lightly, he noticed she wasn’t looking at the instrument—her gaze was fixed on him.

“Did you not understand something I just explained?” Qi Yan asked, raising his head.

She leaned forward, her breath fragrant, her gaze trembling slightly as if wanting to evade, yet forcing herself to meet his eyes.

Her red lips parted and closed before him. “Back in the water, how much of my body did the Young General see?”

That uncomfortable feeling surged in Qi Yan again. His hands gripped the edge of the table, veins bulging on his neck and the backs of his hands.

The qin’s melody faltered, thrown into disarray.

 

Young General Qi’s lesson begins. Please listen carefully.

Qi Yan: “Do you have any questions about the qin?”

Wei Zhen: “Yes, Teacher. Just now, how much of my body did you see?”

Qi Yan: “…”

Wei Ling: “Good brother, I entrust my sister to you. Please make sure to watch out for those men with ill intentions.”