Dreams of the Ancient Mountain: The Cat's Masquerade | Chapter 214 | Echoes of a Lost Dream | Novela.app

Chapter 214 - Echoes of a Lost Dream I had certainly imagined that she would come to find me, yet I never expected her to arrive so soon. She crouched amidst the shattered, scattered tiles and the withered, slanting grass of a commoner’s roof. Her thin gauze garments had been stained into a chaotic kaleidoscope of colors by the dyes of the lower Jin River, hanging off her in a disheveled mess. For once, her brow was knit in a rare frown, her lips pursed, and her eyes held a shimmering veil of tears that she herself might not have even noticed. In that moment, a thought took root in my mind: I had always been the one taking step after step toward her, but finally, she had taken a step toward me—even if it was only once, even if it was such a small, hesitant stride. If that were true, then in the years to follow, it would be worth traversing ten thousand miles of hardship for her sake. She likely felt that my tenderness was inexhaustible. When I draped my cloak over her to shield her, she actually flinched slightly, as if overwhelmed by the favor. Her pupils trembled, and she apologized repeatedly, her panic palpable. The thought that she might have spent the previous night tossing and turning, weeping in anxiety, caused a surge of pity to overwhelm everything else in my heart. I felt a sharp pang of regret for my deliberate coldness toward her and silently swore that no matter what happened in the future, I would never hurt her like that again. The irony is that I failed to uphold even this vow. After she departed, I felt as though nothing held much meaning anymore. My life merely returned to its usual track, yet for a long duration, that track became something I found utterly unbearable. A month later, I received word from Nie Xueqing. She had once owed me a small favor, and shortly before A-Zhi left the capital, I had sent a letter entrusting her to look after her. Since Nie was not a member of the Yingzhao Temple, it would have been quite discourteous of me to keep changing my orders like a fickle court decree. Moreover, once my initial surge of emotion had passed and I regained my composure, I truly wished for her well-being. Having such a person to protect her in her hometown was a good thing, so I let matters take their natural course. Perhaps it was also because I simply could not bring myself to ignore her for the rest of my life. Aside from the brief reports from the Temple’s informants, I also received monthly letters from Nie Xueqing. Given the straightforward and bold nature of the Nie family head, her letters were surprisingly long—and they grew longer with each passing month. I knew that A-Zhi had spent entire nights practicing her swordplay without sleep. I knew she often cried out my name in her dreams. I knew that on New Year’s Eve in Hanzhou, she had shared a room with a young girl and rejected every man who tried to approach her. I knew she had once torn up a ledger after miscalculating over thirty items, only to receive fifty unceremonious strikes of the rod from Nie Xueqing. I also knew how her brilliance had begun to shine and how astonishingly she had grown during the days she spent without me. If I were capable of falling into a deep sleep and dreaming, I would likely dream of the Ziyun Tower on the day of the Empress Dowager’s Birthday Festival. The entire world was jubilant and radiant; the wild songs could have lasted through the night, and the magnificent scenes of a prosperous era could have endured for ten thousand years. Amidst those tens of thousands of people, she was right there beside me, within arm's reach. Because of a single soft sigh from me, she had leaned into my embrace, silent and obedient. That, too, was an unfinished dream. What if I had truly kissed her then? In the years without her, I have mocked myself repeatedly: the worst outcome would have been exactly what it is now—never seeing her again. Why didn't I allow myself to be reckless just that once? That was also the beginning of an illusion, like looking at flowers through a fog. After I killed Xu Xingze, the memories buried deep in my heart for years suddenly resurfaced. That blood-drenched Great Array reappeared vividly before my eyes. Ten years had passed, and I had changed into... this, yet my younger sister could never grow any taller. She would lie there forever, enduring the cold winds and the crows of dusk, scorched by the fires of the demon-subduing seals, until she finally turned to bone and ash. Any suspect who dared to use a profane array involving human sacrifice would receive the harshest possible treatment at my hands. Furthermore, the fact that Xu Xingze and his servant had tormented three young demon girls incited a murderous hatred in me, especially now that I knew A-Zhi. Her embrace was soft, warm, and fragrant, though it was mingled with the scent of blood from my own body. It startled me back to my senses, making me feel ashamed that she had once again seen me in such an unrefined state. She likely guessed some of the reasons behind my temporary madness, yet she did not blame me in the least, nor did she show any revulsion. Behind that, was there perhaps a sliver of love? I had initially interpreted her uncharacteristic melancholy at Wen Siyuan’s wedding as a sign that she was loath to leave the many new friends she had made in the capital. Surely, I must have been special among them? Was she perhaps most reluctant to leave me? The garment from which she had torn half a ribbon was discovered by Hong Lu, who was attending to my wardrobe as usual. He had jokingly teased that Miss Su was secretly keeping his master’s personal clothing, "defiling" his master’s reputation. After she left, while I was in a fit of pique, the perceptive Hong Lu had quietly hidden the old garment away. Nearly six years later, after many events had transpired and I felt a sudden urge to find A-Zhi, he brought the old item out again and silently placed it upon my couch. When she was drunk, she became restless, her hands constantly grasping at people as she murmured to herself, sometimes crying and sometimes laughing. She spoke of "liking" someone, of "not wanting to go." Yet, when I truly asked her to stay, she hid behind a mask of smiles and polite words, feigning a grand sense of propriety. A-Zhi was truly clever. After playing the role of Wen Qi for three months, her movements, etiquette, and temperament had completely transformed into those of a genuine high-born lady of the capital. The way she bent down to arrange her clothes to hide her parting tears was so dignified and elegant, a world away from the clumsy girl I first met, who wore oversized clothes and moved with rough hands and feet. My words back then had been impulsive and aggressive, partly because I was trying to secure a long leave of absence. Certain affairs in the capital had exceeded my expectations, causing a delay of a day or two and disrupting my meticulously organized plan to meet her and slowly make my request. But mainly, it was because I felt she liked me; I believed that if I asked, I would receive an answer. Her talk of "making the act real" and "matching social status" sounded like a bitter joke in my ears. She simply did not wish to spend her life with me. For a moment, my heart felt chilled to the core with bitterness. I barely managed to maintain my composure, retreating back to the status of a mere friend, yet she even refused to let me accompany her back to her hometown. Since matters had reached this point, there was no use in trying to make her stay. I am, after all, a man of considerable pride; I could not bring myself to beg her for another word. The magistrate and the garrison commander of Adu County had both been replaced, and banditry had sprung up again like bamboo shoots after rain. I cleared the path all the way to the far north, when I suddenly remembered that Yifeng Mountain was the place where she was born. I lingered on that mountain for three days, yet I saw no living creature that resembled her. Sometimes, I would think resentfully: *Perhaps I should just catch another kitten and raise it from birth. It might be much easier to handle than she was. I could even carve a mark upon it that belongs only to me, etching it into its very bones and blood, so that it could never leave me for all eternity.* As I thought of this, I actually encountered one on the fourth day. It was a family of five, and the smallest one looked a bit like her—silly and oblivious to the danger posed by a fierce man like me. It actually approached me of its own accord to act coquettishly. I looked at the kitten and finally felt a ghost of a smile. I let it rub against my leg for a long time until its parents came looking for it. The mother called out anxiously, while the father bared his teeth and arched his back in a threat toward me. Its two older brothers huddled behind their parents, watching me timidly and meowing softly in support. Only then did the kitten reluctantly turn back. Coquettishness is the nature of cats; who told me to love a woman who belonged to such a sweet and delicate race? Seeing me descend from the mountain with my spirits restored to normal, the weathered faces of Commander Zhou and Commander Yuan broke into smiles. they flattered me with greetings and reported on the aftermath of our mission, picking only the best words and news to tell me. I laughed. "Brother Zhou suffered recently; it was my fault. I see the local customs of this border town are quite unique. Tonight, Brother Zhou, you take the lead and choose a pavilion. I’ll foot the bill, and we shall sit and drink together." The two of them didn't dare to agree immediately, going through the motions of polite refusal and re-invitation. In truth, they already knew what was coming. Commander Zhou couldn't bring himself to say it, so according to the rules of social interaction, it was Commander Yuan—the least embarrassed of the three—who laughed and spoke what was on their minds. As expected, they were lusting after the beauty of the local Hu-ji entertainers and wanted to "drink with some flair." The tavern in the small town was crude. Our group of over ten people booked the entire place. All the Hu-ji in the city, hearing of such a grand event, flocked there to seek pleasure and compete in beauty, hoping to earn some good money. I accompanied them for a few cups before stepping outside, letting the two juniors who were standing guard in the freezing wind go inside to enjoy themselves. Although their hearts were itching with desire as they listened to the decadent music from within, there was no rule where a superior stood watch while subordinates indulged. They were naturally terrified, but after I gave a half-joking, half-threatening remark, the two of them felt as if they had received a great amnesty and happily dashed inside. I had nothing better to do. Remembering that I had once learned the flute but had only practiced half of a certain score, I took out my flute to fiddle with it and refresh my memory. The sound of the flute attracted many women, but hindered by the isolation array I had set up, they could only tap on the transparent barrier and use their unskilled Central Plains tongue to ask me to "open the door." I naturally ignored them. Gradually, the crowd dispersed, leaving only a very young girl sitting on the ground with her knees hugged to her chest, gazing and listening in a daze. She had likely just entered the trade and only wanted to hide. Unexpectedly, a man stumbled out of the pavilion, drunk, and tried to drag her inside by force. I called out to him softly, and he regained a third of his senses. Realizing that this girl was someone the Emissary might want, he was scared out of his wits, and his three-tenths of sobriety instantly became twelve-tenths. I waved him away and said to the girl, "If you are afraid, come sit here." She stood up and approached hesitantly, tilting her head to inspect the array I had set up with a mix of curiosity and fear, even reaching out a finger to give it a light poke. I let her in but did not speak to her again, continuing to study the musical score. The two of us sat in silence until dawn. In the dim darkness of daybreak, taking advantage of a gap while I lowered my head to flip through the pages and write notes, she offered a clumsy compliment: "Very... good to hear." In that moment, I thought of A-Zhi. If she had heard it, she would surely have praised me with a long string of honeyed words and then acted spoiled to make me play another piece. Unfortunately, I would never have the chance to play for her again. The girl beside me stared at me for a long time before stammering, "Master... smiled. A-Li today... does not have to be punished." So, I was smiling while thinking of her. This was likely the first moment in half a year that I had thought of A-Zhi without feeling a bone-chilling pain in my heart. So her name was A-Li. Her knowledge of the Central Plains language was limited; her madam had likely only taught her one way to address patrons, so she only knew how to say "Master." I gave her a ten-tael silver ingot, enough to ensure she wouldn't be punished by her madam, but not so much that her peers would be driven to jealousy or bullying. She clutched the silver and thanked me, but her eyes remained fixed longingly on the bamboo flute in my hand. "You want it?" "Yes." She blinked. "Someone I know... can play. Can teach me. Want to play for... person I like." I took out a new jade flute to give to her, but she blushed and waved her hands in refusal, insisting on the one I had used for practice. In truth, this flute was crafted by a master from purple bamboo that had been struck by lightning over five hundred years ago; it was far more precious than an ordinary jade object. She, of course, lacked the knowledge to see this and only felt she couldn't accept an expensive gift. I cast a spell to clean the flute thoroughly inside and out, wrapped it in a silk handkerchief, and handed it to her. She cradled the flute and the silver in her arms, rubbing the silk handkerchief wrapped around the instrument, and asked softly, "Tonight... come find Master?" "No need." That same day, our group left the small city to continue with the next mission. Life finally began to flow once more—as usual, yet no longer the same.