If we kept going, I believed we would reach the summit in less than an hour.
Just then, the sound of a zither drifted from ahead.
It sounded like a guzheng melody, and it was the classic "High Mountains Flowing Water," the story of Zhong Ziqi and Yu Boya, of Yu Boya smashing his zither in tribute to the one who understood him.
The music seemed to evoke towering mountains, then flowing water. It was mournful and gentle, leaving a faint sadness in one's heart.
Yuan Jiang's expression also became somewhat desolate, and his face grew more animated. Who knew what the music had made him think of?
After taking a few more steps uphill, we saw a small platform of two or three square meters on the right side of the path. A woman sat there, playing the zither.
The melody we heard was coming from her hands.
But her face was covered by a black silk veil.
As if she were too ugly to show herself to others.
"Excellent zither. Excellent skill," I said mildly as I stood before her.
The music stopped abruptly.
She raised her head, her eyes fixed firmly on me. "You entered that temple?"
I had not expected that to be her question.
Before I could answer, Yuan Jiang said, "That's right, we did enter it. Who are you? Don't tell me you're the one worshipped in that temple?"
The woman let out a faint sigh. "You shouldn't have gone in. Almost no one who enters that temple ever thinks of coming back alive. Even the occasional ones who do return alive end up either stupid or insane. In any case, no one who enters that temple comes to a good end."
I asked suspiciously, "If that's the case, why do you still allow