Chapter Fifty-Six: Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms (5)

She slept deeply and soundly, and when she woke in a haze, the low murmur of voices and bursts of hearty laughter drifted intermittently through the open window. The crisp calls of mountain birds filled her ears—chirping and twittering, but far from noisy; instead, the sounds were fresh and invigorating. Leaning on her elbows, Ye Qianran slowly sat up. Her whole body ached, yet she was surprised to find a sense of comfort rising within her. She lifted the quilt to get out of bed and noticed a set of clean, coarse cloth clothes placed beside her pillow. Ye Qianran smiled—she hadn’t expected him to be so thoughtful.

After changing into the new clothes and getting out of bed, she found a basin of water and a damp towel waiting quietly on the washstand. She washed her face hastily—there was no comb here, so she simply gathered her hair at the nape of her neck with a hairpin. Looking down at the oversized men’s robe she wore, she couldn’t help but find it a little ridiculous; she rolled up the long sleeves. Once she had tidied her appearance, she felt she resembled a young wife just returned from the fields. With a helpless shake of her head, she pushed open the door.

A breeze swept in, carrying with it the fresh scent of the mountain air. Snow-white pear blossoms fluttered down in the wind, and as she stepped out, the gentle orange light of the rising sun cast a soft glow against her stone-blue robes. Her slender brows, jet-black eyes, and crimson lips shone with an unadorned beauty, her face bare of makeup and her hair unstyled—there was something even more real and moving about her natural loveliness.

Wei Zhuang, who was seated beneath the pear tree pondering his next move, turned at the sound. He saw her standing in the doorway of the thatched cottage, framed by falling pear blossoms—quiet and still as a painted maiden. He narrowed his eyes.

Though she wore no elaborate makeup, Wei Zhuang was struck by her breathtaking beauty.

The elderly man sitting across from him stroked his beard and nodded in admiration. “You are indeed a fortunate husband.”

Wei Zhuang remained motionless, his eyes fixed on her. He responded with apparent agreement, “I think so too.” Saying this, as if suddenly recalling himself, he set down his chess piece, excused himself, and crossed the path to stand before her.

Ye Qianran thought she would never forget this mountain morning: he turned beneath the pear tree, the wind catching his robe—matching hers in color. So this is what a truly handsome man looked like.

He approached her, the path strewn with snow-white petals, his expression clear and refreshed, a smile breaking through his handsome features. He reached out to steady her. “Are you feeling any better?”

She limped along with his support, but managed a smile. “Much better.”

He helped her to his former seat, smiling as he introduced her. “This is Mr. Lu.” Then, turning to the old man, he said, “And this is my wife.”

Ye Qianran glared at him for introducing her that way, but she nodded to the old man. “Good morning, Mr. Lu.”

Mr. Lu nodded in return.

Wei Zhuang went on, “Though my wife is a woman, her skill at chess is not to be underestimated. Since you, sir, are a master of the game, I dare not face you myself. Allow my wife to play a few rounds in my stead.”

Though Wei Zhuang’s own chess was far from poor, he now spoke with such humility that the old man was delighted, his wrinkled face blossoming with smiles. Ye Qianran quickly waved her hands. “I... my skills are quite unrefined. I wouldn’t dare embarrass myself. It should be you, husband.” The word ‘husband’ felt awkward in her mouth, but she forced herself to say it—she couldn’t let anyone suspect they were lying.

She made to rise, but Wei Zhuang gently pressed her back into her seat. The old man chuckled, stroking his beard. “Chess is a way to cultivate the heart—there’s no need to compare. Please, madam, go ahead and play.”

Seeing there was no way to refuse, Ye Qianran braced herself and agreed. “Then I will do my best, though I fear I will not impress.” She shot another glare at Wei Zhuang, who only shrugged with an amused look.

Facing the path down the mountain, she saw the mist still lingering, the winding trail stretching between hills, peaks overlapping behind her. The ancient pear tree was in full bloom; mountain birds flitted about in search of food, wings fluttering as they flew into the distance. The air was damp and fresh. Smooth black and white stones gleamed on the old, timeworn stone chessboard, its inscriptions all but faded. The orange sun rose slowly, and Wei Zhuang stood quietly at her side, his gaze resting on her. It was as if she had stepped into a painting of scholars playing chess in the mountains.

Before the game was half-finished, they heard an old woman’s voice: “Old man, it’s time to eat! Invite our guests inside.”

The old man regretfully set down his piece, but his words were full of praise. “Madam, for one so young, your skill is truly rare. The new waves of the Yangtze River drive the old before them—how true those words are.”

Ye Qianran glanced at Wei Zhuang, then replied modestly, “You flatter me, sir.”

He waved his hand, smiling. “Madam, you are too modest. I do not praise easily. If I praise you today, it is because you are truly exceptional.” With that, he rose and went inside.

Supported by Wei Zhuang, Ye Qianran hobbled into the thatched cottage.

On the Eight Immortals table in the center of the room were dishes Ye Qianran had never seen before. The old man smiled and said, “You two do not seem like ordinary folk. You must be used to fine fish and rich meats. Today, you’ll have to make do with these simple country vegetables. I hope you won’t find them lacking.”

Wei Zhuang pulled out a chair for her and replied with a smile, “We’re used to luxury, but these rustic dishes have their own charm. In the city, you couldn’t find such flavors even if you tried. How could we possibly feel slighted?”

Mr. Lu laughed heartily. “That’s well said! I too grew weary of wealth and privilege, which is why I chose to live in seclusion.”

Ye Qianran glanced uncertainly at Wei Zhuang, who continued with a smile, “Most people can’t help but chase fame and fortune. Few are as open-minded as you, sir, to let it all go. Take me, for example—I know well that fame is but a fleeting cloud, yet I am still unwilling to let go. Now I toil in the dust of the world, busy every day, while you enjoy the pleasures of ‘picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence, at ease while gazing at the southern mountains.’”

Mr. Lu laughed again. Ye Qianran thought Wei Zhuang seemed born to such conversations, always able to win favor with ease. He reminded her of her father, who was always charmed by his words. Though she thought this, she couldn’t help but admire Wei Zhuang; he navigated the world of people as a fish moves through water.

The dishes were light, but Ye Qianran ate with great appetite. She felt a survivor’s gratitude, and even her unhappy memories seemed sweetened by the present moment. Now, every flower and blade of grass in the mountains seemed precious to her.

After the meal, she tried to help the old woman clear the table, but was refused—perhaps because her delicate hands seemed unused to housework, and she might do more harm than good. Ye Qianran smiled awkwardly, while Wei Zhuang continued his lively conversation with Mr. Lu. He carefully examined a landscape painting hanging in the hall. “Is this ‘Canglan Landscape’ by Wu Daozi?”

Mr. Lu stroked his beard, pondering. “Yes, it is ‘Canglan Waters,’ but alas, it’s a copy. No one knows where the original is.”

Wei Zhuang smiled lightly. “The original is in my collection.”

Mr. Lu’s eyes lit up. “Oh? The genuine piece?”

Wei Zhuang replied, “Though I am a merchant, I have learned to appreciate art like a scholar. I have collected several ancient paintings, including Wu Daozi’s ‘Canglan Landscape.’ If you like, I’ll have it sent to you when we return.”

He spoke so casually that Mr. Lu was momentarily stunned. Though he longed to see it, he demurred politely. “I haven’t earned such a gift. How could I accept such generosity?”

Wei Zhuang smiled gently. “In my hands, the painting is just another piece of paper. In yours, it will be treasured. I simply wish to do a good deed. As the old saying goes, ‘A fine horse for a hero, a worthy general for a wise ruler.’ Please, don’t refuse.”

Seeing his earnestness, Mr. Lu could not refuse further. “Then... I must thank you for your kindness, sir.”

When it was time for them to leave, Mr. Lu insisted on escorting them down the mountain. The path was long, and Wei Zhuang offered to carry her. Ye Qianran protested, but in the end, she had to give in. Wei Zhuang and Mr. Lu chatted animatedly along the way, but Ye Qianran felt extremely awkward. To outsiders, they looked like husband and wife—there was nothing improper about a husband carrying his wife. But in reality, there was nothing between them. Last night had been an exception; she hadn’t minded then, but now... It was all her injured leg’s fault.

At the foot of the mountain, Mr. Lu said a few more words to Wei Zhuang before turning back. Wei Zhuang promised to visit again for tea and chess. Then, carrying Ye Qianran, he followed the direction Mr. Lu had indicated.

At last, Ye Qianran breathed a true sigh of relief. “You called him Mr. Lu. Who is he, really? You seemed to respect him greatly.”

“You’ve heard of Lu Chuan, haven’t you? That’s him.”

“He’s Lu Chuan?” Ye Qianran exclaimed in surprise. “They say Lu Chuan was once the most handsome man and the foremost scholar of Dayuan, but... you’d never guess it now.”

Wei Zhuang couldn’t help but laugh. “He was a handsome man and a scholar—twenty-some years ago. Time changes many things, especially a man’s appearance.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “But honestly, I never would have guessed he’s the famous Lu Chuan. Who knows, maybe twenty years from now, you’ll look like that too.” She giggled quietly at her own joke.

Wei Zhuang raised an eyebrow, carrying her with steady steps. “Are you saying I’m a handsome man too?”

Ye Qianran was speechless.

As he carried her into the city, she deliberately buried her face against his shoulder. Wei Zhuang teased, “What’s this? You’re ashamed to be seen?”

She pouted in annoyance. “I’m just afraid of ruining your reputation, sir.”

Wei Zhuang burst out laughing, startling her. “You’re not being honest. It’s you who’s afraid I’ll ruin your reputation.”

She refused to admit it. “That’s not true.”

“Then what is it?” he asked.

She turned her head away. “I’m not telling you.”