The private courtyard assigned to Pei Yubai was small.
Through a wooden gate was a little courtyard paved with blue bricks, with a clump of bamboo growing in one corner.
A bedroom stood directly opposite. When he pushed open the door, the bed had already been made, the bedding was clean, and an oil lamp sat beside the pillow.
Pei Yubai stood in the courtyard and glanced across to the other side.
His courtyard adjoined a low wall. Beyond it was another courtyard, much larger than his, with no sign by the gate to indicate who lived there.
He did not look any longer, but turned and went inside.
The washing area was behind the courtyard, in a separate compartment, small but clean.
Hot water was ready in a wooden bucket, covered with cotton cloth to keep it warm. Pei Yubai quickly washed, changed into clean, dry clothes, and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a booklet from his bag.
It was the script for his next production. Filming would begin next month, and the director was very strict, with extremely high standards for line delivery.
Although Pei Yubai never talked about "working hard," everyone in the industry knew his attitude toward acting. He memorized the script for every production in advance.
He opened the script. Today, he would be going over the third act.
It was a long scene with another actor, with many lines and rapid emotional shifts. He lowered his head and read it line by line, his lips moving slightly as though silently reciting.
The courtyard was quiet. Occasionally, the wind rustled through the bamboo, and then everything fell quiet again.
After reading for about half an hour, he heard a faint noise.
It came from beyond the wall. It sounded like someone pushing open a door, followed by footsteps, light and measured against the blue bricks.
The footsteps crossed the courtyard and went inside, then fell silent.
Pei Yubai looked up toward the wall. It was low enough for him to see the roof of the courtyard next door, with a few bamboo leaves resting on its tiles.
He looked away and continued reading the script.
After about another hour, he closed the script, set it beside his pillow, and blew out the lamp.
The room darkened. Only the moonlight came through the window, spreading a thin layer across the floor.
Pei Yubai lay down and closed his eyes.
Everything around him was quiet. There was no traffic, no hum from an outdoor air-conditioning unit, no downstairs neighbors still making noise in the middle of the night.
Only the wind blew now and then, and afterward there was nothing.
He had thought he would be unable to sleep.
He had suffered from insomnia for several years.
Usually, when he was filming, he would toss and turn after work until two or three in the morning before managing a little sleep.
But tonight, once he closed his eyes, there was nothing on his mind.
No script, no work schedule, none of that miscellaneous mess.
It was so quiet, as though someone had emptied everything from his mind.
Before long, he fell asleep.
He slept straight through until dawn.
When Pei Yubai woke, dawn was just breaking. The light outside the window was still gray-blue, and a thin, long bamboo shadow fell across the window paper.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, momentarily stunned.
He had fallen asleep last night. And he had slept the entire night.
He sat up and rubbed his temples.
There was no headache, no fatigue. He felt as though he had spent the entire night soaking in warm water, so relaxed it hardly seemed real.
He thought for a while. Then he picked up his phone and sent his assistant a message: Help me check whether there are any houses available to buy in Cloud-Hidden Town.
After sending it, he put down his phone, got out of bed, and changed into a black tank top, dark gray athletic shorts, and running shoes.
Much like what he had worn yesterday morning.
He pushed open the door and went out.
It was not fully light yet. A thin layer of dew covered the courtyard's blue bricks, making them a little slippery underfoot. The air was cool, and breathing it in made his lungs feel completely clean.
He stood at the courtyard gate and looked both ways. To the left was a covered walkway leading toward the Yue Lao Temple.
To the right was a path that followed the edge of the woods, leading somewhere he did not know.
He chose the right.
After a few running steps, he passed the gate of the courtyard opposite. It was closed and silent, giving no indication whether anyone was inside. Pei Yubai did not stop, but kept running.
The path followed the edge of the woods. On one side was the Yue Lao Temple's boundary wall, its blue-gray bricks covered in climbing vines.
On the other side were the woods. The trees were not tall, but they grew thickly, their branches and leaves tangled together, blocking the view within. The path was paved with gravel that crunched underfoot, softer than flagstones and easy to run on.
He ran for a while before a few trees blocked the way ahead. They grew crookedly, their branches jutting out to obstruct more than half the path.
But there were still gaps between the trees, wide enough to squeeze through sideways.
Pei Yubai slowed and turned sideways to slip between them.
Then he stopped.
Before him was a mountain hot spring.
It was small, with white mist drifting over its steaming surface. The pool was built of stone, moss grew along its edges, and the water was clear enough to see the stones at the bottom.
Spring water flowed into one side of the pool with a soft bubbling sound, then out the other side, disappearing into the woods along a small channel.
Someone was in the hot spring.
His back was to Pei Yubai. Long silver hair spread across the water like a layer of frost.
Its owner had gathered all that hair to one side, bringing it around his neck and over his shoulder, leaving his entire back bare.
His back was very pale, a whiteness that seemed to radiate from his bones and naturally drew the eye.
The contours of his shoulder blades were distinct, like two slightly spread wings.
A shallow groove ran down the center of his back, following his spine all the way to the dimples at his waist.
The dimples were deep, two small hollows between his waist and buttocks, exactly half concealed by the waterline.
Steam drifted around him. His wet silver hair clung to his skin, the silver mingling with the whiteness of his skin like a painting.
Pei Yubai stood behind the trees, his eyes motionless.
At that moment, his mind was empty.
So this was what it meant for the mind to go blank.
His entire body froze in place, as though someone had sealed his acupoints.
The man in the hot spring noticed the movement behind him. He turned his head slightly, and his silver hair slipped from his shoulder, revealing half his face.
It was Qiguan Yuan.
He glanced in Pei Yubai's direction, then turned unhurriedly and walked toward the bank.
His movements were slow, but each step was steady. Water streamed down his body, following his waist, thighs, and calves back into the pool.
The parts of his body beneath the surface were difficult to make out, but the lines of his shoulders, chest, and arms appeared and disappeared through the steam.
Pei Yubai did not know where to look. In the end, he lowered his eyes, but his lashes were still trembling.
Qiguan Yuan reached the bank and picked up a red robe draped over a nearby rock.
It had been neatly folded. He picked it up, shook it out, and slipped it on.
His movements were natural and unhurried, with not the slightest sense that he should be the one ashamed of having been seen naked.
He tied his sash, gathered his dripping hair, and pulled all those silver strands forward to hang over his chest. Then he turned and walked toward Pei Yubai.