"Exactly."
"I couldn't have gotten it."
―――――――――
The next day. A sea of red smoke filled the forest. Thousands of mountains were ablaze with color, the forests dyed in vibrant hues.
Occasionally, there are maple trees, birch trees, wild cherry trees, rowan trees, schefflera pines, and larch trees, with seven colors of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet standing tall, dotting a patch of pure red, scattered between green mountains, clear waters, blue skies, and white clouds.
That expanse of crimson spreads from low to high, like layers of mountains, stretching endlessly from the valley to the mountaintop, with red leaves vying for attention, covering three thousand miles of crimson clouds like smoke.
As the wind passes, the red ripples like waves. This makes the distant river appear like a gently swirling ribbon, adding to its graceful beauty.
Mo Xi was greatly impressed and couldn't help but recite: "Maple leaves cover thousands upon thousands of branches, the river bridge is hidden by the late sails at dusk."
Upon hearing this, Tang Huan first involuntarily looked away, then secretly stared at her profile, but couldn't discern anything amiss. He could only silently follow her up the steps.
Having lost all her martial arts skills, Mo Xi was extremely slow on her feet and lacked stamina. Normally, she would have already run away at full speed to enjoy the thrill of traversing mountains and rivers.
Tang Huan noticed that she was staring at a patch of red maple leaves on the cliff with a regretful expression, and asked, "What's wrong?"
Mo Xi had just been deeply regretting his temporary loss of martial arts skills. Now, hearing Tang Huan's inquiry, he couldn't help but curse himself for being foolish. Why didn't he use the readily available strong men? So, he put on a fawning smile and said, "I wanted to take that red leaf as a bookmark, but I'm a cripple now." After saying that, he spread his hands, lowered his head slightly, and sighed sadly.
Tang Huan indeed leaped into the air.
As Mo Xi watched his swaying figure ascend, she couldn't help but recall the phrase "riding on a flying immortal to roam the world," but who in this world could "embrace the bright moon and live forever"? It was just wishful thinking.
Tang Huan returned in an instant. Mo Xi took the red branch from his hand, smiled slightly, and played with it in her hand.
The two walked silently towards the mountaintop.
It was already dark when we reached the top of the mountain.
In the distance, several bonfires were lit, and dancers wearing masks of phoenixes, lions, tigers, leopards, etc., led by a phoenix, were stepping onto the stage with small, hurried steps.
Tang Huan said, "This place is now Qiang territory. This dance must be a sacrificial dance used to worship the mountain god and pray for a good harvest."
The two approached and sat down among the crowd to watch. After a set of movements, the dancers removed their masks one after another, bowed and offered a sacrifice. It turned out that this dance used birds as offerings, so all the dancers were young men holding feathers.
The sacrificial dance came to an end, but the atmosphere became even more lively. An elder led the way, followed by young Qiang men and women, each in a row, holding hands and dancing. The men and women sang and danced in turn, using knee trembling and waist twisting as basic movements; the dance steps were very joyful and varied. When the music entered a fast tempo, the two rows of men and women exchanged positions, or people held hands and slipped under each other's arms, constantly weaving and pushing the atmosphere to a climax.
After the dance ended, the lingering sounds of music echoed throughout the mountains and fields, lingering endlessly.
Tang Huan looked at Mo Xi's eyes, which were veiled by the firelight, and thought to herself, "I wonder when we'll meet again. And if I were to invite her to dance, would she agree..."
King of Flight
( ) Ten days passed peacefully, filled with the routine of acupuncture and medicine.
Every day, Xue Tong would personally prepare medicinal decoctions. It turned out that as the acupuncture progressed, the ingredients of each medicine would be added or subtracted.
"Dr. Xue, does this Seven Treasures Hetian Jade Bed really have the miraculous effects you described?" Perhaps because it was still early in life, Mo Xi had not yet felt the uncontrollable heat toxins in her body.
"I have only been treating you with acupuncture for a short time, so you have not yet experienced the wonders of this jade bed."
"Did Master He also use a similar jade bed as an aid when he opened up the Ren and Du meridians?"
"Indeed, Master He personally searched all over the world before finding a giant stone at the bottom of a lake. This stone is called Mountain Flowing Water, and it is a jade formed by being washed by floods and transported to the upper reaches of a river. However, Master He's jade is far less exquisite and beautiful than the jade bed here."
Two hours later, Mo Xi finished his medicinal bath and saw Luan Su push open the door and enter, carrying a mahogany tray with two dozen plain silk undergarments neatly stacked together.
“Miss Mu, this is made of raw silk. Your body is becoming increasingly hot, and wearing this undergarment should provide some relief.”
"Thank you, Luan Su." She took it and touched it with her fingers; it was indeed cool and smooth.
After Luan Su left, Mo Xi continued to pass the time by reading "Biographies of Assassins".
After King Helü of Wu ascended the throne, Qing Ji, the son of King Liao, fled to the state of Wei. Qing Ji was an exceptionally skilled warrior; he could catch birds in flight, wrestle with wild beasts, and was as agile as a god, invincible against ten thousand men, known as the greatest warrior in Wu. He recruited soldiers in Wei, waiting for an opportunity to avenge his father. Upon learning of this, Helü was consumed by worry, unable to eat or sleep, constantly plotting to eliminate this thorn in his side. Just then, Wu Zixu found a valiant man named Yao Li. At this point, Mo Xi couldn't help but sigh; how could one after another be fooled by the unscrupulous headhunter Wu Zixu?
Through careful planning, Yao Li devised the first-ever self-inflicted injury ruse in history. One day, while dueling with King Helü in the palace, Yao Li deliberately wounded Helü's wrist with a bamboo sword, then took a real sword and severed his own right arm before fleeing to Qing Ji of the State of Wei. After Yao Li left, Helü, following the plan, killed his wife. Qing Ji, having discovered the truth, trusted Yao Li implicitly, regarding him as a confidant and entrusting him with training soldiers and plotting an uprising. Three months later, Qing Ji went to war against the State of Wu, sharing a warship with Yao Li. Taking advantage of Qing Ji's drinking spree at the bow, Yao Li, under the moonlight, used his one-armed sword to stab Qing Ji, the blade piercing his heart and exiting through his back. Qing Ji was extremely astonished. He lifted Yao Li upside down and submerged him in the water three times, then placed him on his lap and laughed, saying, "How could there be such a brave warrior in the world who dares to stab me!" At this moment, the guards on his left and right raised their swords to kill Yao Li, but Qing Ji shook his head and said, "This is the bravest warrior in the world. How can we kill two bravest warriors in one day! Let him return to his country and fulfill his wish!" After saying this, he threw Yao Li onto the deck, pulled out the short spear piercing his body with his hand, and bled profusely to death on the spot. Qing Ji's guards obeyed his dying wish and did not make things difficult for Yao Li. However, Yao Li felt that he was no longer worthy of the world, so he threw himself into the water to commit suicide, but was pulled up by Qing Ji's men and survived.
After Yao Li returned to Wu, King Helü held a grand banquet in the Golden Palace to confer titles upon him. Yao Li declined, saying, "I killed Qing Ji not for official position, but for the peace of Wu, so that the people could live and work in peace. I didn't even cherish my own body, and even sacrificed my wife's life. Why would I care about money and titles?" After saying this, he committed suicide in the Golden Palace.
Mo Xi sneered inwardly. In her eyes, Qing Ji was the true warrior. He could face death with a smile and, with the heart of a hero recognizing a hero, spare Yao Li—truly a man of honor. But the grand scheme of things couldn't accommodate the magnanimous Qing Ji. As the saying goes, "No ruthlessness, no hero." Those who truly achieved greatness were figures like Wu Zixu and Helü. And the most tragic figure in this story was Yao Li's wife. Yao Li severed his arm to kill his wife, yet Sima Qian wrote a biography to vindicate him. But who remembers who Yao Li's wife was? If you want to be a hero, then do it yourself. What does it have to do with a woman? You died a death heavier than Mount Tai, but what about your wife? Men of the world either use beauties to disrupt the country, like Diao Chan, or use their wives for self-inflicted suffering, like Yao Li's wife. In the end, this beauty's blood was sacrificed on the emperor's path, and the withered bones of the beautiful woman paved the way for the man's vast and magnificent empire. What was the point?
Mo Xi tucked the red leaves into the book and went to Tang Huan's study to find other books to read.
His gaze fell upon "A Guide to Incense Burning," and he couldn't help but smile knowingly. He pulled it out to read. With a casual flip, a slightly yellowed orchid-patterned note fluttered down:
All past events are like illusions.
The green hills only recognize the white clouds as their companions.
Even now, I still admire those in monastic robes.
With bamboo staff and straw sandals, I roam freely.
Water has its own nature, and mountains cannot be moved.
I can't help but let the past weigh on my brow.
Even though the moon waxes and wanes,
Why did he leave without a trace?
The poem was unsigned, but the handwriting was elegant, suggesting it was written by a woman.
The poem "Drunken Peace" follows immediately after, with its calligraphy flowing and elegant.
"With lofty sentiments and sincere intentions, long eyebrows and dark hair. Under the bright moon, she tunes the zither, writing a few notes of spring breeze."