"Maomao, who is it?"
The white-robed woman asked.
"Uh, a young man. A mortal, too." Maomao opened the gate a crack, glanced outside, then turned back to answer.
"A mortal?"
The white-robed woman's delicate brows knitted slightly, and her jade lips parted again. "Ask him what he wants."
"He says he wants to stay the night. What do you think, Miss?"
Maomao looked to the white-robed woman for an answer.
"Let him in. Arrange a courtyard for him, and warn him not to wander about or make trouble at night." After giving the order, the white-robed woman paid him no further attention and returned her focus to her book.
"Hey, come in!"
Maomao opened the gate, and a young man carrying a bamboo basket on his back, his face slightly weary, walked inside.
It was Yi Feng, who had gone into the mountains to gather herbs.
He had brought his own tent, but his luck had been poor. A light rain had begun to fall, and with the mountain cold added to it, Yi Feng truly could not bear to stay outside any longer.
Fortunately, deep in these mountains, there was actually a household.
"Thank you."
Yi Feng hurriedly thanked her before walking through the gate.
The moment he stepped inside, Yi Feng was drawn in by the sight before him—especially the woman seated beneath the waterfall, so otherworldly and untouched by mortal dust.
After fresh rain pattered through the empty mountains.
Evening returned to its nest, bringing late autumn.
A silver curtain three thousand feet hung in the quiet courtyard.
Beside the stone, a beauty leaned close and played her qin.
Moved by the scene, Yi Feng could not help borrowing an ancient poem from his previous life to praise it.
Of course, to suit the occasion, he had pieced it together and altered it a little.
Otherwise, it would have felt out of place.
Yet as soon as Yi Feng finished reciting the poem, the woman playing the qin, who had never once raised her head, suddenly looked over in surprise. She had not expected an ordinary mountain mortal to compose such verses.
"After fresh rain pattered through the empty mountains. Evening returned to its nest, bringing late autumn. A silver curtain three thousand feet hung in the quiet courtyard. Beside the stone, a beauty leaned close and played her qin..."
Without realizing it, she softly recited it as well.
When she finished, she could not help nodding. For the first time, she studied Yi Feng with a serious gaze.
There was indeed not the slightest trace of cultivation on him.
He was undoubtedly a mortal.
Under the misty rain, his green robe was slightly damp, yet he did not look bedraggled. On the contrary, he gave off a very clean feeling. It had to be said that this mortal made her feel quite comfortable.
For the first time, too, her conventional impression of mortals shifted slightly.
Ordinary mortals are not all the same... she thought. At the same time, her slender jade hand closed the book, and her crimson lips parted. "Young Master, that was a fine poem. This little woman thanks you."
"You are too courteous, Miss."
Yi Feng cupped his hands to her, then followed Maomao to his lodging and finally settled down to rest.
"Has he been settled?"
The white-robed woman asked softly.
"He has, Miss." Maomao returned, then opened her little mouth in surprise and exclaimed, "Eh, Miss, isn't that the poem he composed just now?"
"Mm."
The white-robed woman nodded lightly, her jade hand holding a brush as she wrote down the poem Yi Feng had just composed.
"Hey, hey, Miss, don't tell me you've taken a fancy to that mortal? You even wrote down his poem!" Maomao covered her little mouth beside her and cried out in astonishment.
"What nonsense are you talking about?"
The woman shot Maomao a glare and set down her brush with her slender jade hand.
"I simply think that this poem suits this place perfectly. I always felt that something was missing here before. With this poem, it is perfect."
"So once the ink dries, mount it and hang it up."
"Hee-hee, Miss still says she hasn't taken a fancy to that mortal, yet she wants to hang up his poem." Maomao covered her mouth and giggled mischievously.
"You little brat, if you keep talking nonsense, be careful or I'll hit you!" The white-robed woman made as though to knock Maomao on the head, saying at the same time, "No matter how good a mortal may be, he is still only a mortal. The difference between him and people like us is as vast as heaven and earth. Besides, how could I possibly take a fancy to someone based on a single poem?"
"Besides..."
Her lovely voice trailed off. She said no more, merely tightening her hold on Dream of the Red Chamber and Supreme Treasure.
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