Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 6: Into the Dream

The guiding Maidservent, An, had vanished without a trace, leaving only the two of them facing off in the forest.

Wei Zhang stepped closer. As soon as he spoke, Wei Zhen had already raised her arm, nocked an arrow, and aimed it straight at the center of his brow.

Wei Zhang called out loudly, “If you so much as move recklessly, the hidden arrows in the underbrush will pierce your throat.”

Wei Zhen bit her crimson lips. He could have given the order to shoot at this very moment but chose to hold back. This meant there was an even more troublesome situation awaiting her.

How many men had he positioned in the shadows? With just herself, she likely stood no chance.

If she were injured now, she would truly become nothing more than meat on the chopping block, at the mercy of others.

She didn’t know whether the people she had sent had found her younger brother yet…

Wei Zhang stepped over a fallen branch and advanced toward her, saying, “Do not blame me, little sister. Crossing swords with you today is not my wish, but rather, Jing Ke forced my hand. You know well what kind of person the Sixth Prince is.”

Wei Zhen asked, “Jing Ke sent you?”

She felt as if the wound on her heart, which had only just begun to heal, was being mercilessly torn open again, bleeding anew.

She had never gotten along with Wei Zhang, but never had she imagined that one day, her own elder brother would turn his blade against her.

Wei Zhang stopped, standing a mere ten feet away from her horse, and smiled. “Little sister, you and Wei Ling rely on nothing but a bit of royal favor to occupy the vast wealth of the Wei family, unwilling to share even a fraction with my sister and me. What happens today is simply your just deserts.”

“What do you want? Tell me, and I will give it to you,” Wei Zhen said.

She needed to stall for time, waiting for her brother’s men to arrive.

Hearing this, Wei Zhang’s eyes flickered, but he replied, “No need. I only want you to obey me.”

He raised his hand, stabbing his dagger toward the stirrup under her thigh, intending to startle the horse into a frenzy, forcing it to gallop forward with her.

Wei Zhen yanked the reins, sidestepping just in time. “Since I have no escape either way, why not shoot you down right now? You serve Jing Ke—do you not value your own life?”

“You are truly bold, little sister,” Wei Zhang said, staring at the sharp arrowhead pointed at him from mere inches away. He chuckled. “Who would have thought that behind such a beautiful and delicate appearance, your heart would be so cold and unyielding?”

Wei Zhang slid his dagger back into his belt and turned. “Follow me.”

In the dense forest, blades of cold light glinted amid the thickets. Wei Zhen scanned the surroundings—while the two of them had been facing off, she did not know how many hidden archers had taken aim at her.

Wei Zhang walked ahead. Though she tried to slow her pace, she had no choice but to follow quickly.

They arrived at the location.

Beneath the slope, thick trees surrounded them on all sides. The setting sun streamed through the gaps in the branches, its glow like flowing blood.

Wei Zhang ordered her to stay where she was and turned to ascend the slope.

Just then, a chilling roar echoed through the mountains, shaking the very ground. Wei Zhang’s eyes widened in shock.

“What is happening?”

He had been coerced into bringing Wei Zhen here. Rather than assassinating her outright, having her torn apart by wild beasts and devoured by tigers would be far more discreet—no one would suspect a thing.

But now, Jing Ke had not even waited for him to retreat to safety before releasing the caged tigers. He intended to kill him as well!

The ground trembled. The underbrush rustled violently. Three massive figures darted through the forest—tigers that had been starved for days, now finally free. They rushed down the slope like demons, charging straight toward their prey.

The tigers came with terrifying force. Even if Wei Zhen turned her horse now, she would not escape in time.

Her heart pounded fiercely. She raised her bow and nocked an arrow, making a swift decision—not to aim at the approaching beasts, but at Wei Zhang’s back.

With a sharp sound, the arrow pierced through his shoulder blade. Wei Zhang collapsed to his knees, letting out a cry of pain.

The scent of blood filled the air, drawing a frenzied roar from the tigers. The leaves trembled, and the trees shook as the giant creatures burst from the undergrowth, charging toward Wei Zhang.

This gave Wei Zhen an opening to escape. She pulled the reins, and her horse reared up, letting out a long, piercing neigh.

One of the tigers was drawn to the sound. Its green eyes flashed as it leaped toward her.

There was no time to nock another arrow.

In that instant, with a sharp whizz, a long arrow streaked through the air like lightning, cutting right past her—

Blood splattered onto Wei Zhen’s face. The tiger let out a wretched cry, crashing to the ground. The arrow had embedded itself deep in its body, its shaft still quivering.

From the woods, a voice called out, “Follow the Young General!”

Wei Zhen turned. In the distance at the forest’s edge, a young man sat atop a tall horse.

It was Qi Yan.

A dozen cavalrymen galloped toward them. Leading the charge, the young general rode like the wind, his robe billowing. His sharp gaze was like lightning, his presence as cold and fierce as a blade.

He raised his bow in a smooth, fluid motion.

Another arrow shot forth.

The wounded tiger, just beginning to rise, was struck again, howling in pain.

Another tiger lunged at Wei Zhen. Her heart clenched. She yanked her reins hard, veering aside. Her horse wheeled around and bolted into the forest.

All this happened in the blink of an eye.

On the slope, Jing Ke watched everything unfold below—

The arriving guards encircled the remaining tigers. Two of the beasts, riddled with arrows, had lost much of their ferocity.

Yet, as wild beasts cornered and desperate, they fought even more savagely. One after another, they threw themselves at the guards, trying to break free.

Qi Yan took a firestarter from a soldier’s belt and lit the tip of his arrow.

The beast, unable to withstand the burning pain, let out a furious roar and charged wildly into the distance.

Jing Ke, still observing, did not expect the tiger to suddenly race up the slope toward him.

His guards paled in horror. “Your Highness! Run!”

Jing Ke immediately mounted his horse. His injuries had not yet healed, making his movements sluggish.

In mere moments, the tiger was upon them, its bloodshot eyes locked onto him. With a single swipe, it knocked both horse and rider to the ground.

Jing Ke rolled over, turned his head, and his pupils contracted as he saw a gaping, bloodstained maw opening right before him…

Below the slope, the ground was in chaos, as if raiders had ransacked the land.

Qi Yan withdrew his blood-stained sword, scanning his surroundings. If he recalled correctly, there had been three tigers.

Up ahead, a pool of blood had soaked the ground. Qi Yan stepped forward to examine it. Just then, a soldier reported, “Young General, bad news! Lady Wei is missing!”

Qi Yan ordered, “Split up and search immediately.”

“Yes!”

The muddy ground bore hoofprints and the deep tracks of a tiger’s claws, streaked with blood. Qi Yan gripped his sword and followed the trail forward.

The last vestiges of daylight faded into darkness.

Qi Yan frowned. Once night fell completely, searching would become even more difficult.

**

Night fell, and the frigid forest became even more eerie and foreboding.

Deep in the mountains, in a secluded cave, Wei Zhen hid inside. Her horse had been taken by a pursuing tiger, and she had used up all her arrows. Exhausted, she was at her limit.

Though trained in horseback archery in the southern territories, she was no match for a tiger. She had barely survived.

Now, her only weapon was the dagger in her grasp.

Then, the rain began to pour outside. Sitting in the darkness, she listened to the water cascading at the cave entrance, the damp cold creeping in from all sides.

Every distant animal cry sent a taut string of tension through her nerves.

The rain grew heavier, roaring like a flood. Amidst the downpour, she discerned a faint, distinct sound.

Footsteps.

Wei Zhen gripped her dagger tightly, alert. When the steps halted at the cave’s entrance, she sprang forward, thrusting the blade outward—

Only for it to be caught firmly.

A clear, steady voice followed: “It’s me.”

Wei Zhen gasped. “Young General?”

A soft “puff” sounded as the fire starter ignited, illuminating the entrance of the cave and revealing the face of the newcomer.

 

“I followed the scent of blood and searched nearby for quite some time before finding you.” His gaze swept over Wei Zhen, his voice carrying the chill of the rainy night. “Can you still walk?”

 

Wei Zhen hadn’t expected to see him here, but she nodded.

 

Qi Yan let her follow behind him, and the two left the cave together.

 

The pouring rain quickly extinguished the fire starter. In the darkness, they could only rely on the faint light of the night to navigate.

 

After a few steps, Wei Zhen stumbled. Qi Yan reached out to steady her shoulder. They walked on for a while, but she kept tripping.

 

“Young General, I can hardly see.” She held onto his arm, her voice soft.

 

Qi Yan lowered his head, looking at the girl whose entire outfit was soaked through, her face streaked with leaves and bloodstains. Her snow-white complexion was completely drained of color, except for her lips, which remained vividly red, like a mountain spirit in a poetic verse.

 

Yet the usually bright eyes had lost their luster, turning dull and lifeless.

 

Qi Yan sensed something was wrong and asked, “What’s the matter with you?”

 

“I’ve had this condition since childhood. As soon as night falls, I can hardly see anything. Right now, everything is pitch black, and I can only rely on my cousin to guide me. What happened just now was truly unintentional.”

 

Perhaps feeling guilty, she had even changed the way she addressed him, her voice gentle.

 

Qi Yan originally intended to take her down the mountain immediately, but the rain was only growing heavier. Traveling at night was difficult, and the dense mountain forest made it easy to lose their way. On top of that, she couldn’t see in the dark…

 

“We should go back to the cave first and wait for the rain to lighten up,” Qi Yan said.

 

Wei Zhen nodded in agreement.

 

Qi Yan led the way, while she fumbled forward, inadvertently grasping his hand that hung at his side.

 

His arm tensed slightly. When he turned his face, he saw the girl’s unfocused eyes, filled with emptiness.

 

Qi Yan let out a soft sigh and said, “The path is this way.”

 

Their palms pressed together, and rainwater trickled down through the gaps between their fingers.

 

The girl behind him walked slowly, occasionally bumping into him. He could feel her fingers slightly curling as if wanting to pull away, yet she did not move.

 

One palm was warm; the other, icy. Their touch was like snowflakes falling upon fire.

 

Rain pattered against the leaves, making a soft rustling sound. The girl’s heart was in disarray, and amidst her stumbling, she could only rely on the person in front of her.

 

Back in the cave, Wei Zhen let her hand slip from his fingers.

 

Qi Yan told her to wait there. Before long, he returned with his horse, carrying a few sticks of dry wood that had not yet been soaked through.

 

When the campfire flared up, Wei Zhen instinctively narrowed her eyes. As her blurred vision gradually cleared, she saw the young man sitting on a rock across from her.

 

“Feeling better?” Qi Yan asked.

 

Wei Zhen nodded, her hands unconsciously clenching the fabric of her sleeves.

 

This was already the second time he had seen her in such a drenched and disheveled state.

 

But he wasn’t in much better shape either. His clothes were soaked, and his raven-black hair was damp with mist. A loose strand had slipped from his jade crown, resting against his sharp, slender cheek.

 

The atmosphere in the cave was subtly charged. Some things remained unspoken, yet both understood. For instance, at this moment, neither looked directly at the other, instead focusing on the small flickering flames before them.

 

After a long silence, Qi Yan’s calm voice echoed in the damp cave: “Have you had trouble seeing at night since childhood?”

 

Wei Zhen lowered her gaze.

 

It hadn’t been since birth. When she was seven, she had quarreled with her younger sister. During their argument, she was pushed to the ground, hitting her eye against a rock. That was how the condition started.

 

It was her first time in the capital. Her grandfather had originally planned to leave her and her brother with their father, but after this incident, realizing that her father and stepmother did not welcome them, he took them back home.

 

This was too personal a memory—something Wei Zhen preferred to bury deep in her heart.

 

Softly, she said, “I injured my eye when I was young. My grandfather sought out doctors for me, and while it improved somewhat, my vision remained impaired. It doesn’t affect me much during the day, but at night, if there is no light, I cannot see at all.”

 

Qi Yan looked at her. Her eyes were exceptionally beautiful, their shape gentle, framed by long, thick lashes. When she looked around, they seemed to shine with an inner light.

 

Yet, just above her right eyelid, there was a faint scar, so shallow that only when she lowered her gaze could it be vaguely seen.

 

Bathed in the fire’s warm glow, she lifted her eyes and said, “Actually, I also have a question for you, Young General.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I want to know—if the day after I harmed Jing Ke, when you came looking for me, I had refused to see you, what would you have done?”

 

Wei Zhen wanted to hear his answer.

 

Because in her dreams, she had actually fallen ill and hadn’t met Qi Yan. Instead, he had gone to see her younger brother, who later relayed his message: “Qi Yan has evidence in his hands and seems ready to report to Prince Chu.”

 

Somehow, Wei Zhen felt that this dream was a kind of omen, hinting at another path she could have taken.

 

People often say not to believe in supernatural omens, but recently, plagued by nightmares, her younger brother had sought out some mystics for her. She had heard them say that if someone’s past life held unresolved regrets, they might return in dreams.

 

A voice within her urged her to verify whether her dreams were truly visions of the past.

 

Would the people in her dreams act the same as those in reality?

 

Qi Yan replied, “That day, I had intended to meet you in person to draw the truth from you. If you had refused to see me, I would have sought out your younger brother. I could still confirm some things that way.”

 

Wei Zhen’s heart skipped a beat.

 

Just last night, she had dreamed of that same bizarre scene again.

 

So in that dream—or perhaps in her past life—she and Qi Yan had indeed met again later.

 

On a spring afternoon, the sun was shining. The young man had arranged to meet her in the courtyard. He wore a robe of deep green, as elegant as a pine tree.

 

“Regarding Jing Ke, you need not worry,” he had told her.

 

A breeze stirred, brushing the stray strands of hair across his forehead. His eyes were bright and clear, and his voice was steady, carrying a reassuring certainty.

 

In the dream, Wei Zhen hadn’t understood his meaning, only feeling anxious that her assassination attempt had been discovered.

 

But now, she understood.

 

He had been telling her that he would cover up the incident for her.

 

In her past life, Jing Ke had never woken up. The assassination attempt on the Sixth Prince was blamed entirely on the two other assassins present that night, and the matter was swept aside.

 

It had been Qi Yan who helped her from behind the scenes, erasing every trace—including Jing Ke—without her ever knowing.

 

Wei Zhen thought about how, just yesterday, he had stood before so many people and calmly provided her an alibi. It wasn’t because she was special to him, but simply because he believed she was not at fault and thus had chosen to help her.

 

A young man with such a fiery heart and steadfast loyalty—someone like him should have been the moon in the sky, admired by all.

 

And as his words settled, Wei Zhen had her answer.

 

That dream wasn’t a prophecy. It was a memory.

 

If so, what else had happened in her past life?

 

“You should rest now,” Qi Yan said. “I’ll keep watch. The guards may find us during the night.”

 

The fire flickered, its crackling sound filling the damp cave. Wei Zhen, her mind preoccupied with the dream, hugged her knees and rested her head upon them, slowly closing her eyes.

 

Raindrops pattered against the grass, forming a shimmering curtain at the cave entrance, enclosing them in their own world.

 

As Wei Zhen drifted into sleep, the darkness receded. Light returned to her vision.

 

In her dream, rain poured outside, tapping against the window, and a cold wind stirred the curtains.

 

A flickering candle cast a warm glow upon the bed.

 

Clothes lay in disarray, dark hair tangled together.

 

Wei Zhen lay beneath the covers, her black hair damp against her flushed lips. Her heartbeat pounded wildly, breaths mingling with warmth.

 

She bit her lower lip and gazed up at the man leaning over her.

 

A droplet of water trickled down his high-bridged nose, landing upon her lips, leaving a damp, lingering trace.

 

And then, beneath the blazing firelight, his face became clear.

 

Wei Zhen’s heart trembled slightly.

 

Because the man above her—was Qi Yan.