Before they went up the mountain, Yao Xianzhi wanted to drape the fox-fur cloak over his grandfather's shoulders. Chen Ping'an smiled and shook his head, signaling that there was no need for such trouble.
Afterward, Yao Xianzhi discovered that although it was the season of melting snow, with drifts gleaming white and the land wrapped in silver, the mountain was frozen enough to halt even flowing clouds, yet the mountain breeze was mild. He did not feel the slightest chill. Moreover, the snow on the path beneath their feet had already melted away on its own, as if some unseen Mountain God were clearing the street for the three of them.
The old man was in high spirits and said with a smile, "Up the great mountain."
After a lifetime spent in the military, stationed at Great Quan's borderlands, apart from the occasional journey to the capital to pay respects to the Emperor, he had hardly ever left his post. He had neither traveled with books on his back in pursuit of learning nor sought out scenic wonders and hidden retreats with anyone. The famous mountains and great rivers he had truly set foot upon could be counted on one hand.
Thinking back to those years, he had been a young border scout, chasing enemies on a light horse, snow covering bow and blade. Whenever the river froze, his horse's hooves striking the ice had sounded like shattered jade.
Yao Xianzhi softly reminded him, "Mr. Chen, we're only taking a short walk up the mountain. We can't let Grandpa have his way and keep going all the way to Qingping Peak."
Just as His Majesty had privately said to him and Yao Lingzhi, Grandpa was now like an old child.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Don't worry. I'll keep watch over it."