Chapter 34: An Enchanting Encounter in the Remote Mountains

Outside the city of Xuanzhou, the mountains soared into the clouds, stretching on without end. Deep within those vast ranges lay places untouched by human presence, and no one could guess what monsters might be bred there. Thus, the ancients worshipped the mountain gods; whether passing travelers or hunters venturing up the slopes, all hoped for the deities’ protection to keep evils and demons at bay.

Lu Xin, however, did not fear ghosts. His only concern was the scholar he carried on his back. The man’s wounds were still bleeding, and Lu Xin worried most about the scent attracting wild beasts. A lone predator or two might be manageable, but should a pack of wolves descend upon them, he doubted he could protect the scholar—he might not even escape with his own life.

Climbing up along the mountain’s base, Lu Xin immediately began searching for water, following the ridgeline downward. The ridge, running from high ground to the lower dips, served as a watershed. Usually, tracing it to the bottom would lead to a low-lying valley between two mountains, where a stream was likely to be found.

Eager to save the scholar, Lu Xin moved swiftly. The mountains were lush with dense vegetation, obscuring his vision. Often, when he glanced upward, even the sun was hidden from sight. He had long since lost all sense of direction—north, south, east, or west—and his mind was consumed with finding water. Whether he could still locate the road to Qingqiu Mountain depended now on fate.

After about two hours, Lu Xin finally reached a valley. From afar, he heard the sound of running water and felt a surge of joy. A stream five or six meters wide coursed between the mountains, nourishing the grasses and trees along its banks.

It was spring, and the valley was warm. The scholar had already lost consciousness, so Lu Xin undressed him entirely and washed all his wounds in the stream, fending off infection. When he finished, he left the scholar by the water and went in search of medicinal herbs.

Anyone who traveled the world, especially those living by their wits, needed some knowledge of medicine. In the two years Lu Xin had spent trading tea at the Xu residence, he had learned much on this subject. Before setting out, he had even sought advice from Mute Wu, making him half an apothecary himself. Tu Chengli’s wounds were mostly scratches and bruises; stopping the bleeding and applying herbs to disinfect them would suffice.

In the southern forests, medicinal plants such as chinaberry, inkweed, and bird’s-foot fern were common enough; with a little effort, they were not hard to find. Within ten minutes, Lu Xin returned to the streamside. But his face darkened—Tu Chengli, who had been lying by the water, was gone, though his discarded clothes remained.

He looked around; the valley was eerily silent, with barely a bird’s cry to be heard. Lu Xin was certain no one had passed nearby, yet Tu Chengli had vanished. He hadn’t even gone far to collect herbs, and now, with the man missing, he realized he hadn’t heard a sound.

“Could a wolf or tiger have carried him off? No, there’s not a trace of animal tracks on the ground. Where on earth did that fool go…”

Lu Xin’s expression grew grim. Losing someone in the wilderness, with not even a clue for searching, was dire. Worse still, if a predator had indeed taken the man, Tu Chengli was as good as dead.

He called out a few times, but only the echoes from the valley replied. Brow furrowed, Lu Xin began searching upstream along the river. He had only gone a short distance when he caught sight of Tu Chengli at the far edge of his vision. The scholar was sprawled atop a large rock, motionless—dead or alive, Lu Xin could not tell.

Fearing the scholar had been dragged there by a beast, Lu Xin dared not shout, approaching cautiously lest he alarm something dangerous nearby. Step by careful step, it took him nearly five minutes to come close. He surveyed the area—there was no sign of any wild animal. The scholar’s pale backside was exposed to the sun in a thoroughly undignified display. Oddly, though he was now so near, Tu Chengli showed no reaction.

“Brother Tu, wake up, wake up! Are you all right?”

Lu Xin patted his back, intent on getting him off the rock. At that moment, the scholar turned his head and made a shushing gesture.

“Hush! Don’t speak. Something important is happening.”

“And what, exactly, is so important you must lie here naked? If your wounds split open again, don’t blame me for not warning you.”

“All right, all right, we’ll talk about the wounds later.” Tu Chengli nodded hurriedly, then turned his head back, clearly fixated on something. Lu Xin, intrigued, climbed up onto the rock beside him.

Looking ahead, he saw a jumble of stones had dammed the stream, forming a small but deep pool in the valley—so deep the bottom could not be seen. In the center of the pool, a slender figure was bathing, her skin smooth and pale, her long black hair rippling on the water like silk, drifting with the current in an enticing display.

Though the woman had her back to them, Lu Xin could plainly see her proud, upright breasts. At last, he understood why the scholar had ended up here.

“You bastard, making me worry for nothing while you spy on a woman bathing. Shameless lecher, you filthy dog…”

At his age, Lu Xin had little interest in women. Realizing the truth, he was livid, almost beside himself with rage. Tu Chengli, fearing he’d shout and give them away, reached to cover his mouth, but Lu Xin dodged. Now he noticed blood at the scholar’s nostrils, as if he’d just taken a blow.

“All that talk about ‘beauties within books’ is nonsense. Scholars never go out, never travel—where would they ever see women? Xin, just look at that figure—she’s surely a peerless beauty. Those breasts, so full and proud, only a goddess descended from heaven could compare. I can’t take it any longer, I mustn’t look, I can’t…”

The scholar rambled on, blood trickling anew from both nostrils. Lu Xin was speechless, laying back on the rock with his sword, deciding to rest his eyes.

“Your wounds don’t hurt anymore? Wait… when I carried you on my back, were you even unconscious?”

“Of course I was, Brother Xin! Don’t you know me? I truly fainted, with all those wounds—pain enough to kill me. Ah, now that you mention it, I’d almost forgotten. Oh, it hurts, it hurts!”

“Damn it, what did I do in a past life to deserve meeting such a lunatic?”

With the scholar’s incessant noise, Lu Xin’s head throbbed. Rubbing his temples, he suddenly stiffened, sitting up in alarm. At that moment, the bathing woman turned around—indeed, a beauty like none other, enough to topple kingdoms. Her gaze was enchanting and shy, fixing on the two men with a delicate, flower-like smile, so pitifully lovely.

Such allure would drive any man mad with longing, desperate to hold her, to cherish her. Tu Chengli was no exception; standing naked, he seemed utterly entranced.

“Gentlemen, life is fleeting, and suffering never ends. Why not join me in these mountains and waters, and know the joy of immortals? Come, let me serve you both.”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming. Beautiful lady, don’t run…”

Tu Chengli, dazed, stared as she approached, stepping as if he’d forgotten the water between them. Lu Xin watched coldly from the rock, tapping the scholar’s head with his sword to break the spell.

“What just happened? Why’d you hit me…”

Halfway through his question, Tu Chengli realized his state of undress and his arousal, blushing fiercely. Lu Xin ignored him, his eyes fixed on the woman in the water.

“Nothing much. You were just about to be eaten by a demon.”

“How can you say such things? A demon, in broad daylight? Don’t frighten me so.”

The woman, seeing Lu Xin’s harsh gaze, quickly covered her face and turned away. The scholar, undeterred, pushed aside the sword and grinned foolishly. “What demon? Clearly a beauty. Miss, don’t be afraid, I—no, we—are good men. I’ll protect you.”

“Do you mean it, sir? I’m so frightened now. Won’t you come hold me?”

“Of course! Saving a beauty is a noble deed. Just wait a moment, Brother Lu, between us, there’s no need for courtesy, is there?”

“No need. What, not calling me Xin anymore?”

“Calling you Xin seems too distant. Brother Lu, you’re so noble, I must risk myself to save the lady. Miss, the water’s cold. Bathing too long alone isn’t good for you.”

The scholar lecherously entered the water, swimming quickly to the woman’s side. Lu Xin made no move, simply sat on the rock with his sword, watching as the two embraced. Clearly, it was the scholar’s first time with a woman—he was clumsy and awkward, while the woman was experienced, winding herself around him and showering him with kisses.

“So this is the softness of a woman’s tongue… No wonder they say a night of spring is worth a thousand gold pieces. If I could share a bed with such a woman every night, what need would I have for fame or fortune?”

Tu Chengli was lost in pleasure, eyes closed as he enjoyed her kisses, a flush spreading over his body. Lu Xin noticed his breathing growing weaker, his expression darkening. He leapt up and shouted,

“Demon fox, have you kissed enough yet?”

Reflected in the sword’s polished blade, he saw the woman’s true form—a fox with a great bushy tail, and a male at that. At first, Lu Xin had kept quiet to play a trick on the scholar, but now he had to intervene. The scholar’s life force was being drained.

“Who are you, to see through my disguise?” the fox demanded.

Lu Xin did not answer, but stepped out onto the water, sword raised to attack. The woman’s face twisted in anger, and she leapt from the water to the shore. Now, her form shifted—a boy of fifteen or sixteen, slender and androgynous, but exceedingly handsome. The fox spirit, dressed in a pale robe, could not hide the tail trailing behind him.

“Xin, what’s happening? Who is this man?”

“Who else? Weren’t you just kissing him so passionately?”