Old Wang of the Yongchun Distillery was pushing his small wooden cart toward the Qianqiu Inn.
The cart creaked and groaned, and the wine jars atop it clinked and clattered. Any drunkard hearing that melodious sound would know it signaled fine liquor; they all stared with watering mouths and longing eyes.
Alas, what a pity—the first batch of Yunye Fresh to arrive in Xiaowan Town since the start of winter had been bought up in a single lot. Not a drop of hope was left for anyone else.
After a few twists and turns, Old Wang reached his destination.
He was in a fine mood today, his steps light and brisk, arriving a full quarter-hour earlier than yesterday.
"The wine is here!"
The old innkeeper of the Qianqiu Inn was hunched over behind the counter, using paste to stick on a fake beard. Hearing the shout, he stood and turned, several sparse strands of the beard dangling halfway off his chin.
"What are you shouting for? You and that loud mouth of yours."
Old Wang let out a hearty laugh, his bow-legs moving as he began to unload the goods. As he worked, he lowered his voice to ask, "Is that Young Master Zhong the same as usual today?"
Hearing this, the innkeeper abandoned his half-attached beard, and his voice dropped as well.
"Indeed he is. Hasn't stepped out of his room all day. Truly a strange one."
Old Wang was dismissive. "How can someone who pays double for his wine be a strange man? He must be a rich man."
At the mention of silver, the innkeeper’s expression turned knowing.
"I was wondering why you were so diligent today; turns out you got a tip. But I should warn you, he likely won't be staying much longer. I sent someone to find Wu the Eldest yesterday, and word is he’s coming by today."
Old Wang’s hand paused on a wine jar, his soaring mood suddenly halved.
"Don't lie to me. You found Wu the Eldest? Didn't he stop taking jobs into the mountains years ago?"
The innkeeper finally straightened the two whiskers of his beard and snapped his bronze mirror shut.
"Perhaps his gambling itch returned and he’s short on silver."
Old Wang was both puzzled and anxious. "But if he takes this job, your 'God of Wealth' will be leaving."
"I’d prefer he stay longer, but that young lady of his can't wait. Last night, Old Sun went to deliver charcoal and said she looked like she was at death's door." The innkeeper sighed, then muttered a few more words under his breath. "Besides, he already paid for a year’s lodging in advance. Look, the contract is right here."
"I was wondering when you started being so charitable. Turns out you’ve already squeezed him for all he’s worth."
Old Wang gave a light snort, not intending to actually examine the stamped contract on the counter. He hoisted the last jar of wine onto the shelf, gathered several plump silver ingots from a wooden tray into his cloth bag, and didn't forget to nag one last time before leaving.
"The sky is about to turn dark. I doubt Wu the Eldest is coming."
He did not know, of course, that just as he lifted the heavy felt curtain of the inn to leave, a sturdy figure walked in right behind him.
The innkeeper caught sight of the newcomer and, without looking up, pointed toward the second floor.
"The business is on the second floor."
Wu the Eldest said nothing. He grabbed a cold teapot from a table, gulped down some tea, and was about to head upstairs when the innkeeper shoved several jars of wine into his arms.
"Take these up. Be careful not to bump or break them; you can't afford the compensation."
Wu the Eldest remained silent, carrying the jars straight to the "Heaven" grade guest suite on the second floor.
Inside the only suite on the floor, candlelight flickered—not because the occupant was stingy with oil, but because this remote town simply lacked high-quality candles. In the dim, yellow light sat a young gentleman in plain robes with a jade hairpin, seated by the bedside. His features were naturally soft, and under such gentle light, his entire presence seemed dreamlike and ethereal.
Wu the Eldest felt a sudden, inexplicable unease. He set the wine down heavily on the table.
"Your wine."
The other man gave him a brief glance and reached out to lift the nearest jar.
He was in no hurry to pour a drink. He simply placed the jar of Yunye Fresh, its mud seal already cracked open, onto the small side table by the bed.
The fragrance of the wine filled the room. Wu the Eldest could smell it but couldn't drink it, and he felt that staying in this room for even a moment longer was torture. He went straight to the point.
"I haven't traveled that path in a long time. I can't take this job today. Find someone else, Young Master."
The man was neither hurried nor angered by his words. His hands didn't stop their quiet movements, and after a moment, he spoke slowly.
"My wife is gravely ill and in urgent need of medicine; we must enter the mountains as soon as possible. It is freezing cold, yet you were willing to come here based only on the innkeeper's message. This shows you are far more kind-hearted than your words suggest—a helpful man. I have no intention of placing you in a difficult position, but I am alone in a strange land and have no other choice. I hope you will lend a hand. The fare is negotiable."
His words were polite and his attitude proper, yet for some reason, his face did not bear the look of someone begging for a favor. Instead, it carried an indescribable coldness, like a stone lion at a yamen gate—no matter how it was carved or decorated, it lacked any warmth.
Wu the Eldest couldn't help but curl his lip.
From supporting his younger siblings in his youth to traveling far and wide for business after marrying, he had seen plenty of high officials. Which of them didn't wear their impatience and disdain on their faces? The man before him seemed peaceful, yet his aura was no less imposing than those great officials.
Though he was tempted by the fare, he remained firm in his original intent and waved his hand.
"It's not a matter of silver..."
He was only halfway through his sentence when the man reached for a nearby lacquer box and opened its bronze lock before his eyes.
Inside the small lacquer box lay a neat, thick stack of silver notes from Xiaomei Manor, stamped with red clay seals.
"Take as many as you wish, sir."
It seemed it truly wasn't a matter of silver, but a matter of whether there was *enough* silver.
Wu the Eldest was stunned.
He had seen generous spenders, but never one this extravagant—extravagant enough to be unsettling, extravagant enough to arouse suspicion.
Could this be a swindler newly arrived in town, using forged seals to pass off fake notes for some nefarious purpose?
Wu the Eldest felt he needed a closer look, so he took half a step forward and stood on his tiptoes.
In that moment of peering, he not only saw the genuine clay seals on the stack of notes but also caught sight of the woman on the bed behind them.
Her face was not frail; on the contrary, her brows and eyes held a touch of heroic spirit. Had she not been bedridden, she looked like the type who could run and jump with the best of them.
Yet, for some reason, she looked somewhat familiar to him. The more he looked, the more he couldn't bear to simply walk away.
Of course, he couldn't bear to part with the silver, either.
"Fine, fine. I'll take you as far as the foot of the mountain." He rubbed the fat around his waist with some irritation, then added as a disclaimer, "But let's get the ugly talk out of the way first: no one has been up that mountain in a long time."
The implication was clear: he was washing his hands of the consequences. It was the one paying the silver who insisted on going up; if anything went wrong, he, the guide, would not take the blame.
"It matters not. The mountain is there. If others have not ascended, perhaps it is merely waiting for me."
Wu the Eldest raised an eyebrow.
He truly hadn't expected such a stubborn, heavy heart to be hidden beneath such a delicate face.
So be it. The weather was so cold; perhaps the man would turn back on his own halfway through when he couldn't take it anymore. In this day and age, could someone actually freeze themselves to death on purpose?
"When do we leave?"
The gentleman lightly tapped the wine jar.
"Now."
****** ****** ******
In the depths of winter, the Gelerte Plateau was a realm of howling winds and driving snow.
The paths across the wilderness had long been buried by the blizzard; one could only rely on an experienced driver to carefully discern the direction.
The world was a vast expanse of white, with no sign of where they had come from or where they were going. The wind and snow made the journey even more tedious, and with a silent companion, the long road became even harder to endure.
Wu the Eldest refused to give up, insisting on chatting incessantly with the man in the carriage.
Having received the silver notes, his spirits were high, and he was eager to spill every scrap of tall tales and lore he knew, as if to prove those notes were well-spent.
"Who did you hear about Pingtou Peak from, Young Master? Not many people know of it these days."
"I heard of it from an elder."
the man in the carriage remained detached, neither initiating conversation nor letting the topic drop entirely.
Wu the Eldest was not demanding; this level of response was enough for him, and he began to play the storyteller.
"Then do you know, Young Master, that Pingtou Peak wasn't always called that? It used to be called Baitou Peak—White-Headed Peak."
"Why?"
The other man offered only a two-word response, but Wu the Eldest launched into a torrent of words.
"A previous village head changed the name, thinking 'White-Headed' sounded unlucky. But the people here always called it that. Do you know, Young Master, the reason the city on that mountain is called Xuan City is because it was once a place as warm as eternal spring."
Outside the window, the blizzard raged. Snowflakes as large as goose feathers swirled into clumps, clinging to everything until the world was nearly buried.
the man in the carriage looked away, lowering his head to cradle the woman's hand in his palms, gently breathing warmth onto it.
"One certainly can't tell now."
The half-broken carriage curtain flapped in the cold wind, revealing the half-light and shadows within.
Wu the Eldest pulled back his gaze, feeling an inexplicable pang in his heart, though his mouth didn't stop.
"That was all over a hundred years ago. These mountain cities weren't always this fortified. Legend says the wife of the twenty-ninth City Lord of the Hua family was an immortal. She and the Lord built that stone city block by block. Every winter she guarded it, no snow would fall in Xuan City; only the very top of the mountain remained white, which is why it was called White-Headed Peak. Sadly, the Emperor of the previous dynasty had her killed, so the winters returned to Xuan City, and the mountain became Pingtou Peak—Flat-Top Peak—once more."
The carriage was silent for a moment before the gentleman's voice rose again.
"I see."
The answer was still brief, but it was clearly different from before. Unfortunately, Wu the Eldest was halfway through his rambling and didn't notice, adding another comment of his own.
"Oh, right. If the people on the mountain ask, don't say where you came from."
the gentleman's voice lowered, nearly scattered by the wind and snow.
"Why?"
"You wouldn't know, Young Master, but the people living on Baitou Peak have never been very welcoming to guests from the capital."
"Is that so?"
It wasn't really a question, more of a response, but Wu the Eldest answered quickly.
"Indeed! A few years ago, a noble from the capital went up the mountain to seek medicine. They say his legs were broken. If a shepherd hadn't found him, he would have starved to death in those mountains." At this, he added a bit of awkward foreshadowing. "Speaking of which, now is not a good time to enter the mountains. The path up is treacherous, and the blizzard will pick up again soon. You won't even be able to see your feet; one slip and you'll tumble down the cliff. I'm being kind—I saw you waiting at that inn for three days with no one willing to take you. But we have to agree: once we reach the foot of the mountain, you'll have to walk the rest of the way yourself..."
These words seemed like kind advice, but in truth, he was again distancing himself from any responsibility. He was just an innocent guide; whether the weather was good or bad, or whether this man lived or died, was beyond his control.
The young gentleman smiled soundlessly, his voice filled with an unprecedented sense of release.
"It matters not. As long as there is a path, it can be traveled."
The north wind wailed, piercing to the core.
The night had reached its deepest point, and the cold had seeped into every inch of the earth.
Wu the Eldest rubbed his hands together, watching the silhouette in the distance carrying another person on his back. He watched until the figure vanished, then turned the carriage around to leave.
Perhaps he should have tried harder to persuade the young man.
But when the other man had left just now, Wu had caught a glimpse of his expression and realized that he was someone who could not be turned back.
So be it. Everyone has their own path to walk; sometimes, there is truly no need to force things.
The sound of the wheels faded, and the wind and snow instantly buried the thin tracks. Amidst the high mountains and white snow, only a solitary shadow remained, heading deep into the snowy peaks.
His back was not sturdy; in fact, he had never carried anyone in his life until now.
His legs lacked strength; the mountains he had crossed were not very high, and the roads he had traveled were not very long.
But he firmly believed he could keep going.
Without stopping, without resting, he moved forward. Even if he was walking toward an endless, icy darkness, as long as her arms were around his neck and her heartbeat could be felt through his back, he could continue with such unwavering resolve until he saw the end of all things.
A young girl in a red padded jacket and a red cloak crouched on a stone ledge, observing the figure.
He was clearly not a martial artist; his frame was not even as thick as that of the local hunters. The plain robes he wore were made of fine material but offered no protection against the cold; he was clearly unaccustomed to the extreme frigidity of the North.
He walked very slowly, gasping for breath after every step. The snow was nearly up to his knees, making his steps difficult and his balance shaky. Yet he would rather fall and climb back up himself than let a single flake of snow touch the person on his back.
He had wrapped his heavy fox furs and greatcloak entirely around her, wearing only his thin inner robes. The moisture from his breath condensed on his brows and lashes, layer upon layer, threatening to weigh him down, but his expression remained the same—detached, yet possessed of an immovable persistence.
Before seeing him, she hadn't imagined he would be such a person.
If she drove him down the mountain now, would he freeze to death halfway? It would be best if he turned back out of fear; that would save her from having to play the villain.
The girl rested her chin on her hand, calculating, but her plans ultimately came to naught.
The figure never stopped, inching his way bit by bit until he reached the base of the stone ledge.
The man was no martial artist, yet he possessed a frightening sort of intuition. He lightly wiped the frost from his face, neither looking up at the ledge nor glancing around.
"Where is the descendant of the Qu family?"
The girl’s eyebrows shot up. She cleared her throat, her voice crisp and clear when she spoke.
"The Gelerte Plateau does not welcome the descendants of the Qiu family."
The man finally looked up. His face was transcendently beautiful, yet with his black hair disheveled and his expression cold and fierce, he looked like a vengeful ghost.
"I have traveled thousands of miles across mountains and rivers; I do not care for your 'welcome.' Where is the Head of the House? Come out and face me!"
The man's roar echoed through the mountains, carrying an innate sense of command.
But the girl on the ledge was not the least bit afraid. She stood with her hands on her hips, her brows arched sharply, her expression full of disdain.
"What an arrogant, overbearing, and reckless fool to dare run wild in the territory of Xuan City. I heard the King of Tiancheng was a man of spiritual cultivation and Buddhist piety, but seeing you today, you are clearly a madman."
As the saying goes, the ignorant are fearless.
But this girl clearly knew a great deal. Knowing his identity and still being so defiant—that was true fearlessness.
He reined in his expression, though his voice still carried an unshakeable majesty.
"Since you use bloodline as a reason to bar me, you should know that some things cannot be easily severed. Having left the Qu family and stepped out of the Buxu Valley, have you forgotten where you came from and whose land you stand upon?"
The girl laughed, and after her laughter, her expression became even more wild and untamable than before.
"Baitou Peak is not under the jurisdiction of Tiancheng. Even if you are the sovereign of a nation, the Lord of Nine-Five, you have no right to command me, let alone speak to me in such a manner!"
With that, she flipped nimbly off the stone ledge.
She had intended to simply drive the guest away, but catching sight of the pale, blue-tinged face of the woman in the man's arms, she couldn't help but add one more thing.
"Someone, bring her a freshly filled hand-warmer, then take them back down the mountain. Do not bother me again."
Several men clad in bear skins emerged from hiding and were about to step forward when a crisp, long-drawn-out sound of an impact rang through the snowy night.
The girl froze, then turned her head. She saw the man slowly sinking to his knees in the snow, performing a solemn salutation.
"I beg the young lady to save her."
The girl's gaze fell upon the bronze bowl in the man's hand, and her arched brows knitted together.
"What is Master Wumin to you?"
"He is my master."
The girl was stunned for a moment, her face then clouding with doubt and disbelief. "Yikong is a monk. What is your status? How dare you lie to my face and deceive me?!"
The man in the snow did not change his expression, saying calmly, "Master Yikong is my senior brother."
"I have never heard that Wumin took a second disciple."
"At your age, there must be many things you have not heard of."
"You...!"
The girl was clearly angry. She stood up abruptly, and within seven or eight steps, she vanished beside the stone ledge, leaving only a trail of crooked footprints in the snow. The men in bear and fox furs also vanished instantly. The wind and snow swirled all around, leaving only the howling north wind blowing ever more fiercely.
The man in plain robes did not rise to leave. He pulled the woman into a tight embrace, trying to transfer the last bit of warmth from his body to hers. But no matter how hard he tried, that body continued to grow cold.
He brushed the snowflakes from her hair again and again, his gaze fixed on the base of the stone ledge.
Just as he thought the wind and snow were about to bury the trail of footprints, the red figure reappeared hurriedly through the mist of snow.
"Consider yourself lucky. Bring her and follow me."
****** ****** ******
If the foot of Pingtou Peak was only white, then the stone ledge at the summit was only black rock and a grey horizon.
The wind howled through the mountain pass, scattering the falling snow.
The blizzard seemed to have lessened slightly. On the narrow, steep black stone steps, the red-clothed girl walked ahead in silence. After a long while, she suddenly remembered something and turned to look at the man behind her.
"You are Wumin's disciple. Who is she?"
The man followed the girl's gaze to the woman on the small litter and said softly, "She is my wife."
He still had the same face, but his expression was worlds apart from the fierce, angry man in the blizzard.
So this was how he looked when he was calm—the lines of his brows and eyes were soft and fluid, like the divine statues enshrined in temples. If he had worn this expression earlier, she likely wouldn't have doubted he was Wumin's disciple.
The girl brushed the snow from her braids and signaled the men carrying the litter to go ahead, lest the person on it suffer from the freezing wind at the pass.
The man said nothing, following silently behind.
Watching that overly quiet back, the girl felt a surge of curiosity.
"I have seen hundreds, even thousands, of people come to seek medicine. Women seem frail but are often the most resilient and unyielding. Men are rarely as decisive and steadfast as you. They think too much, always believing they stand higher, see further, and are wiser; they are never willing to suffer a loss, and in the end, they leave empty-handed."
The man ahead finally stopped, turning his head slightly to reveal a profile that betrayed no emotion.
"I wonder what sort of loss the young lady intends for me to suffer?"
The girl gave a cold snort.
"Now you think to ask? Seeing how majestic you were earlier, I thought you were so proud and unyielding, yet you followed me just like that. Aren't you afraid I'm trying to trick you, harm you, or find some way to humiliate you?"
The man did not answer her directly, only looking toward the woman on the litter nearby.
"As long as the young lady has the heart to save her, what does it matter if you trick me, harm me, or humiliate me?"
The girl was speechless, her expression then turning solemn.
"Now you truly look a bit like Wumin's disciple."
She leaped two or three steps to the man's side and pointed toward the grey distance.
"What do you think of that peak?"
He followed her finger. Through the ethereal mist of snow, a tall, steep, solitary peak emerged. Its summit appeared as if it had been cleanly sliced off, yet it stood high and imposing, looking exceptionally desolate—the legendary Baitou Peak.
He withdrew his gaze and spoke honestly. "A masterpiece of nature, impossible to form in less than a thousand years."
The girl smiled proudly, making no effort to hide her elation.
"There was no peak there originally. It was split open by my ancestor when he attained enlightenment in the divine arts. You are a descendant of the Qiu family and a disciple of Wumin; your innate understanding should be extremely high. Judging by your words just now, your character is also extraordinary. Perhaps given a few years, you too could attain enlightenment. Unfortunately, you won't have the chance."
The girl finished speaking and, without looking back, walked quickly up the stone steps.
He took one last look at the peak as its silhouette flickered in and out of view, then followed without a hint of lingering, leaving in silence.
At the end of the stone steps was a flat stone clearing. It was the only flat ground on the entire mountaintop, and upon it stood a single stone house. In the center of the house was a massive furnace built of black stone; the fire within glowed red and radiated heat, making the entire room as warm as midsummer.
The girl unfastened her cloak and walked through rows of soft, lush green plants and vines, heading straight for a pool of emerald water.
She bit her index finger and lightly placed it by the pool. Before long, a greyish-white head poked out from beneath several lily pads.
The girl reached out, and the white creature hopped onto her palm as if possessed of a spirit.
It was a snow-white frog with a horn on its head.
The man stared at the strange-looking frog for a long time before slowly speaking.
"Is this the medicine that thousands have come to seek?"
"This is just an ordinary highland snow frog; it cannot save your beloved." The girl paused, then lightly pinched the frog's head. "What can save her is this."
The snow frog's head was tilted up, and he noticed a semi-transparent sac on its throat. Inside, a dark red liquid surged faintly, looking somewhat eerie.
"What is this?"
"The blood of Qu Jiuli. This blood contains spiritual energy; if it encounters a dead object, it will quickly dissipate. Therefore, it must be carried by a living creature."
"And who is Qu Jiuli?"
"She is the end of the legend of the gods on this land, and the reason for the collapse of the Niexuan Dynasty. All things in the world eventually cycle through prosperity and decay; yin and yang are connected. Life can be found at the end of a dead end, and peak prosperity inevitably leads to decline. It is so for humans, and so for the gods." The girl lightly scratched the frog's belly, and the snow frog squinted its eyes contentedly. "Her blood is a lethal poison that cleanses the marrow and transforms the bones for those of divine blood, but for ordinary people, it is a miraculous medicine that brings the dead back to life. Over the past century, the blood she left behind has saved countless lives. Now, this is all that remains."
The man's clear eyes were filled with understanding.
"Speak. Your conditions."
"The Emperor of Tiancheng is indeed a clever man with an exquisite heart. This night has been quite exhausting; it's better to finish our business early so I can go back and catch up on sleep."
The girl smiled, and the frog in her palm seemed to grin along with her, the red sac beneath its neck sparkling like a gemstone.
"This blood is exactly enough for two people. If you want to save her, you must consume it with her."
The stone room was silent for a moment, but the stillness did not last as long as she had expected.
"Fine."
The girl was surprised. "You... you aren't even going to ask me why?"
"I am tired of chasing after causes and truths. Besides, even if I found them, how would the result be any different?"
He was right—not only right, but profoundly clear-headed.
A sudden pang of pity rose in the girl's heart.
"Don't say I didn't warn you. Transforming the bones and cleansing the marrow is a narrow escape from death. Even if you luckily survive, any children you have with any woman will certainly die young. You will never be able to continue your bloodline in this life."
"Is that all?"
The girl paused, then nodded. "That is all."
A look of relief, like a heavy burden being lifted, appeared on the man's somewhat detached face. She didn't know how to describe his expression in that moment; she only felt that the plants in the room had finally caught a spring breeze, bursting with infinite vitality.
"That is for the best."
****** ****** ******
At daybreak, the wind and snow gradually ceased.
The newly risen sun climbed over the solitary peak that stood against the horizon, outlining it in a fiery golden glow. Days of heavy snow had washed the sky into a deep blue-violet. On the nearby cliffs, the silhouette of a mountain city became clear and bright.
This ancient city, straddling the Migu Pass and resting in the embrace of Lake Naga, was Xuan City. Protected by natural barriers, catching the winds of the four seasons, it was as solid as a rock and indestructible—as eternal as the dawn over this plateau.
On the easternmost cliff of the stone city, the girl sat before the stone house, still resting her chin on her hand and staring blankly at the snow frog. The sac beneath the frog's neck was empty, and its beady eyes were filled with confusion.
When her grandmother had told her to wait for that person, she had thought she would be guarding the mountain for a lifetime.
Who would have thought that this day would arrive so suddenly and end in the blink of an eye?
Grandmother said the divine bloodline would end with the Sword of Disarmament, but she hadn't seen any sword, not even a bladed dagger.
Grandmother also said that when the time came, he would come in person with his request, and then a promise must be exchanged for a promise, with no compromise allowed. But before she could even say much, the man had agreed to her conditions.
She didn't understand those prophecies, nor did she care about them.
She was merely a bit sentimental. The man had finally saved his beloved, but would the time they could spend together be only this single coming dawn?
The morning light finally flooded the mountaintop. Beneath an old pine tree, two figures leaned against each other. Perhaps the morning sun was too piercing; the man opened his eyes and slowly stood up.
He stood barefoot in the snow, his raven-black hair falling loosely over his shoulders, wearing only a thin long robe. He seemed not to feel the cold, standing there quietly as his clothes snapped in the wind, possessing a unique, ethereal beauty—as if he might ascend to immortality in the next instant.
"An immortal? Are you an immortal?"
A childish voice sounded from behind him.
He turned and saw two stout little children.
The girl was slightly shorter, but her presence was more imposing; she looked at him as if she were an adult.
"How could he be an immortal? Look closely."
The boy was unconvinced, sniffing back his runny nose.
"The painting in the entrance of the ancestral hall looks just like this. The person in that painting is an immortal."
"That's not an immortal, just an ordinary person who lived a bit longer." The girl pointed a chubby hand toward the distance, her tone full of certainty and pride. "That is an immortal."
Perhaps out of a moment's boredom, the man looked in the direction the girl pointed.
In the distance, at the turn of the mountain stone steps, an elderly man with a hunched back was walking out. The elder's hair and beard were entirely white, his face covered in wrinkles. He wore coarse cloth clothes with a simple padded vest over them—the attire of a northern farmer. He looked entirely like an ordinary man.
The man paused, then gave a light sigh. Just as he was about to look away, another person stepped out from the corner.
It was an even older, frailer woman, a piece of thick raccoon fur draped over her shoulders. Her waist seemed bent under its weight.
The elderly man in front took three steps, then turned back to offer his hand to the old woman. She took it with a trembling grip and followed him.
They climbed those long, hundred-odd stone steps in that manner, step by step.
"Aren't those Great-Grandfather and Great-Grandmother? You're a liar!"
The boy grew anxious, his nose running again, which made the girl look at him with even more disdain.
"Who's lying to you? You can't tell lies beneath Baitou Peak. Mother said Great-Grandmother was born to be an immortal, but she stayed in the mortal world because she couldn't bear to leave Great-Grandfather."
"If she's really an immortal, why haven't I seen her fly into the sky? If she can really transform and ride the wind, why has no one seen it?!"
"Just because no one has seen it doesn't mean it hasn't happened!" The girl was also getting worked up, desperate to find a third person to settle the argument. "You, come and judge! Which of us is right!"
She huffed and put her hands on her hips, turning back with some dissatisfaction, only to see that the man had returned to the side of the sleeping woman at some point, leaning against the rock beneath the old pine tree.
"Hey, did you hear me?"
"I heard you. Unfortunately, I haven't seen an immortal either." His voice was somewhat sluggish, as if he had just woken from a great dream and was about to fall into a deep sleep again. "But your mother was right about one thing. Human emotions are the hardest to sustain, and good things rarely come in pairs. Mortals are born lonely. If immortals truly have the powers written in books, perhaps they are the ones who can grow old together..."
The girl only half-understood, but she was confident the man was on her side.
"Hear that? He thinks I'm right too."
The boy was not convinced at all, muttering, "How old are you? A little bean who isn't even as tall as a stove—what do you know about love and affection..."
"I'm not little. In two months and four days, I'll be seven..."
The two children argued incessantly, their voices rising one after the other.
The man beneath the pine tree gave a long sigh and pulled the person beside him into his arms.
"It turns out children are quite noisy; you were right to dislike them..."
As he spoke, he leaned against the rock and gently closed his eyes.
The two children stopped mid-argument, suddenly noticing the silence around them. They looked at each other and then leaned in together. But the man never opened his eyes again.
His expression was very peaceful; even the snow falling from the tips of the pine branches did not disturb him.
He finally failed to brush the falling snow from the woman's hair. The snow, blown by the wind, fell softly, slowly turning his hair and hers white.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 永春酒坊 | Yongchun Distillery | A local wine shop/distillery. |
| 千秋客栈 | Qianqiu Inn | The inn where the protagonist stays. |
| 小宛镇 | Xiaowan Town | The town where the story begins in this chapter. |
| 云叶鲜 | Yunye Fresh | A specific type of fine wine. |
| 伍老大 | Wu the Eldest | A guide and carter hired by the Emperor. |
| 小梅庄 | Xiaomei Manor | A well-known money house or bank. |
| 格勒特高原 | Gelerte Plateau | The high-altitude region where Xuan City is located. |
| 平头峰 | Pingtou Peak | "Flat-Top Peak," the current name of the mountain. |
| 白头峰 | Baitou Peak | "White-Headed Peak," the original name of the mountain. |
| 暄城 | Xuan City | A legendary city on the plateau. |
| 化家 | Hua Family | The ruling family of Xuan City. |
| 瞿家 | Qu Family | A family of divine descendants/healers. |
| 无皿法师 | Master Wumin | The Emperor's master. |
| 一空 | Yikong | A monk and senior disciple of Wumin. |
| 步虚谷 | Buxu Valley | The original home of the Qu family. |
| 瞿九黎 | Qu Jiuli | A legendary figure whose blood has healing properties. |
| 涅泫王朝 | Niexuan Dynasty | A past dynasty mentioned in legends. |
| 高原雪蛙 | Highland Snow Frog | A creature used to carry Qu Jiuli's blood. |
| 秘古山口 | Migu Pass | A geographical pass near Xuan City. |
| 纳加湖 | Lake Naga | A lake near Xuan City. |
