Mount Taibai rolled on in an unbroken succession of snowy peaks, gleaming silver beneath the winter sun, like a suit of bright silver armor spread across the ridgelines and covering the world.
Wisps of cloud drifted slowly over the summits, their edges tinged pale gold by the sunlight. Whenever the wind rose, it swept up a thousand heaps of loose snow, sending them rustling down among the pines.
A shallow, clear stream flowed at the foot of the mountain, fed by melting snow from Mount Taibai. Though it had not frozen in the depths of winter, its water was bone-piercingly cold, shimmering a ghostly blue as it ran over the stones.
Mu Shu crouched on a large bluish rock beside the stream, her sleeves rolled up to reveal her pale forearms, and swung a jujube wood washing bat, pounding the clothes laid out on the stone.
Water splashed everywhere, spattering the front of her clothes, but she paid it no mind. She simply kept bringing the bat down, beating the coarse cloth robe with loud, watery slaps.
A wooden basin beside her held a pile of washed clothes, their collars scrubbed pale and folded neatly over its rim. Her arms, reddened from soaking in the stream, gave off wisps of steam. Droplets slid one by one down her flawless cheeks, lingered briefly at her chin, then fell into the stream, spreading the finest rings of ripples.
Sunlight fell from behind her at an angle, gilding her silhouette until she looked as though she had stepped out of a painting.
Mu Shu raised an arm and wiped the fine sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Looking up at the young man gathering pig fodder in the distance, she broke into a smile, shallow dimples blooming beside her