Wu Ping’an had experienced sleep paralysis before—conscious but her body heavy as lead, struggling even to turn over. Back then, there were scientific explanations, but now in this dynasty teeming with monsters and demons, she dared not think it was merely a nightmare.
She tried to get Ji Yuwei to say something comforting.
The youth merely smiled, his jade-like chin giving a slight nod toward her, his elegant voice tinged with restraint: “Mm, Yuwei noticed, so he was waking you, Madam, to prevent a wild ghost from draining your vital essence in your dreams.”
“R-really… there really are ghosts…” Wu Ping’an felt like crying; she was terrified of ghosts suddenly appearing right in her face.
Thinking she might see ghosts again in the future, tears involuntarily streamed from her eyes.
Ji Yuwei didn’t understand why she started crying as she spoke. Originally intending to comfort her, but seeing her wide almond-shaped eyes inadvertently moistened by tears, the fear and sorrow in her gaze burning fiercely like hooks thrown at him—
He paused, suddenly no longer wanting to comfort her, but to see how long she would cry.
Wu Ping’an, seeing his lips part as if to speak then close again, thought he would offer comforting words as before. Suddenly, she saw him kneel on the straw mat, staring intently as he approached her like a seductive ghost.
Thinking he had seen a ghost, she was too frightened to move, tears flowing almost like water.
Until the corner of her eye was licked, and that fear abruptly ceased.
“Madam Wu’s tears of fear are bitter.” The youth curled his tongue, looking down at her with innocent, seductive eyes that darkened into a hazy green tinged with wickedness.
Wu Ping’an blinked twice, then stiffly turned her head to see a small monster beast pinned to the wall behind her.
He hadn’t seen a ghost, but a monster beast.
Ji Yuwei drew a dagger, explaining gently to her: “This cave was likely its home. We occupied its dwelling, so it hid in a hole in the corner, waiting to devour us when we were off guard. I watched it for a long time, and it finally emerged.”
So, all along, Wu Ping’an had been leaning her back against a monster beast.
She trembled, stiffly shifting closer to the side.
Ji Yuwei was the only living person; only the breath around him made her feel secure.
Ji Yuwei seemed not to notice her moving closer, nor did he continue to explain his earlier tear-licking. He merely glanced behind him and sighed: “It seems we cannot stay here. The scent of blood will attract monster beasts or blood-sucking ghostly apparitions, Madam Wu.”
He turned back, looking amusedly at the shivering Wu Ping’an, and said: “We must find another place, or we won’t be able to leave later.”
Ji Yuwei’s soft, gentle tone when speaking always gave Wu Ping’an a sense of steadiness, as if he could handle anything with ease. So, on this night rampant with demons, she was lured into fleeing with him.
The moon outside was strangely large and bright. Only after leaving the cave did Wu Ping’an witness what it meant for a hundred ghosts to roam the deep forest where strange birds cry.
Countless transparent, elongated black shadows drifted under the moonlight, and bizarrely shaped monster beasts wandered everywhere. When she and Ji Yuwei, living humans, emerged, those monster beasts all turned their glowing eyes toward them.
Before the shock in Wu Ping’an’s eyes could fully form into fear, Ji Yuwei’s light chuckle brushed past her ear like a spring breeze.
“Run.”
As soon as his words fell, Wu Ping’an felt her wrist suddenly seized. Under the immense force, her entire body was violently spun around, and they began frantically fleeing southward, with those monsters and demons chasing wildly behind them.
The speed was too fast for Wu Ping’an to keep up. Several times, the sharp claws of monster beasts hooked her hair and skirt hem, terrifying her into continuous screams. If not for Ji Yuwei dispersing them in time, she would have long become food in their mouths.
She and Ji Yuwei ran through the forest, neither daring to stop. As long as they could run until dawn, the ghostly apparitions would diminish, and dealing only with monster beasts would become much simpler.
These were the words Ji Yuwei had spoken to her during their escape, his breath unsteady as he panted, his fair cheeks flushed with a healthy rosy hue under the clear moonlight, his tone unlike his usual gentle warmth.
Thus, when Wu Ping’an turned her head to look at him, she realized that, like his name Ji Yuwei, he had bewitchingly transformed into a Mountain Ghost riding a red leopard and followed by a patterned wildcat, his long hair and robes wildly entangled with hers in the night.
If they could keep running until dawn, it would indeed be a good way to save their lives. But Wu Ping’an was merely an ordinary person, with limited stamina. After being dragged along in a mad dash for less than half an incense stick’s time, her face had already turned pale.
Thrust into such peril, her heart pounded wildly, nearly bursting, and she feared holding him back, not daring to ask to stop and rest. It was Ji Yuwei who noticed her slowing pace.
Out of concern for her, he thoughtfully found a spot, removed his robe to wrap around her, then bit his finger and swiftly drew something on her face.
“Lady Wu, don’t move. I’m drawing a spell. In a moment, your breath will briefly vanish from their senses. Hide well, and don’t let the spell marks be wiped off.”
Wu Ping’an gasped for breath, her eyes wide as she tried to quickly ease her tension, too flustered to notice his momentary pause when he reached her lip pearl, then avoided it, continuing from her chin down to her neck.
By the time he finished, those monsters and demons had caught up from behind.
After speaking, Ji Yuwei took up a long sword and was surrounded by those demons.
Before leaving the estate, the beauty-loving youth had just changed into a flamboyant peach-blossom robe with a snow-white inner lining. Now, the peach-blossom robe was on her, so only a flash of snow-white could be seen in the pitch-black night, like a graceful white crane in ink.
Watching Ji Yuwei slay the demonic ghosts, Wu Ping’an felt tense but also, for the first time, stirred by a surge of determination.
If she could be as powerful as Ji Yuwei, she wouldn’t burden others, and she could have saved Ade back then. If given the chance, she too wanted to learn spellcraft.
Unaware of how much time had passed, a crack of light appeared at the horizon, a brilliant beam of dawn spilling into the forest. The slender black shadows instantly retreated into the darkness, while the monster beasts, fearing Ji Yuwei’s formidable spellcraft, gradually diminished.
As the golden sun revealed its round outline over the mountains, Ji Yuwei killed the last monster beast, thrusting his long sword fiercely into the soil.
He turned his head, the golden sunlight cutting across half his face. A few strands of damp hair clung to his cheekbones, dripping with blood. In his eyes swirled an unquelled excitement, like desire, like fire, resembling the shimmering ripples of a spring river. He seemed to thoroughly revel in the slaughter, showing not a trace of fatigue.
Ji Yuwei was looking at Wu Ping’an.
She almost thought Ji Yuwei had lost himself in the killing, or had been accidentally possessed by one of those ghosts, and that she would be his next target.
When he sheathed his sword and approached, the excitement had already receded from his eyes. Suddenly, he knelt before her.
Wu Ping’an quickly caught him. “Are you all right?”
He leaned his head against her shoulder without speaking, only gazing into the distance.
Wu Ping’an followed his gaze.
As dawn broke and the view expanded, she saw a white tiger racing toward them. On its back was a delicate gauze-covered wooden chair with intricate carvings, accompanied by several attendants carrying chests taller than a person.
These were the servants of the Ji Clan and Ji Yuwei’s monster beast mount.
They arrived just as day broke and the monster beasts had been slain.
Seeing their master covered in blood, the attendants hurriedly helped him onto the sedan chair.
Ji Yuwei leaned sideways against the wooden frame, his face still stained with vivid blood, his gaze fixed intently on Wu Ping’an. He even found the energy to show concern for her: “Lady Wu must also be frightened. Come back to the estate with me.”
With that, he closed his eyes and slumped onto the white tiger fur cushion as if falling asleep.
The attendants treated his words as a decree, so Wu Ping’an was brought back as well.
Having fled for her life all night without sleep, Wu Ping’an returned to the courtyard and gazed at the peach blossom tree spreading like an umbrella. Everything from the previous night felt like a dream.
Servants brought in hot water for her to wash off the monster beast blood she had been stained with outside. She requested a set of practical clothing.
Since no one in the estate wore short jackets, the servants brought a loose cross-collared long skirt suitable for movement—though it wasn’t much more comfortable. The collar was loose, the waist so large it required a belt to cinch it, and when raising her arms, the chest opening gaped wide; bending over would expose a view straight down to her legs.
It seemed unwearable—revealing and indecent—yet this was actually the loosest and most practical long skirt they could provide.
As it wasn’t designed as women’s wear, it was rather bold. Still, Wu Ping’an considered it far better than the cumbersome skirts that would trip her up if she needed to run from monster beasts. She could secure the collar with ties inside the inner lining to avoid exposure.
Once dressed, Wu Ping’an went out to find a servant and asked about Ji Yuwei’s condition.
The servant shook his head, saying he didn’t know, only that a physician had already been summoned to examine him.
Wu Ping’an returned to her room to rest and recover her energy.
That night, her dreams were filled with monster beasts.
Waking at dawn, Wu Ping’an had a splitting headache. Dazed, she got up to wash, and after much thought, decided to ask the servants to inform Ji Yuwei that she wished to leave.
The scene from the previous night, like a procession of a hundred demons, made her realize she couldn’t accompany Ji Yuwei to hunt monster beasts—she lacked the capability.
But the servant informed her that Ji Yuwei had not yet awakened and asked her to wait a little longer.
Wu Ping’an didn’t know how long she would have to wait and considered leaving directly. Hearing this, the servant fell silent for a moment before replying, “My lady, before the young master fell unconscious yesterday, he instructed this servant to tell you that all matters must wait until he awakens, after which he will invite you to discuss them in detail. Please wait a little longer for him.”
Wu Ping’an couldn’t tell if this was true or not, but in any case, she was made to stay.
Several days passed like this until Ji Yuwei finally awoke and sent someone to summon her.
Wu Ping’an was led out by a servant.
She hadn’t been at the estate long—only a few days—and had spent most of her time in her own quarters. Today was her first visit to Ji Yuwei’s residence, the Apricot Grove.
During the spring equinox, amidst the white-petaled grove, glimpses of dark green curved tiles emerged faintly. Wind chimes tinkled in the breeze, accompanied by the soft strains of music.
Hearing the continuous sound of strings and bamboo instruments, Wu Ping’an thought a banquet was being held in the garden. Upon asking the guiding servant, she learned it was actually Ji Yuwei composing music.
He had been severely injured and only awakened today; she hadn’t expected him to have the leisure for music now. Ji Yuwei once again showed Wu Ping’an the unrestrained, natural spontaneity of this era that disregarded rigid etiquette.
The Apricot Grove looked as if blanketed in snow. Incense smoke curled from a burner on the table, and a konghou stood upon white jade stone. A young man in white robes with plain inner garments, his black hair tied back, plucked the strings with his fingertips. From his thin, red lips flowed a melody both ancient and gracefully subdued.
The melody was gentle and graceful like the Jiangnan region, the sound of the zither accompanied by secluded orchids in an empty valley, the male voice like the vast accumulation of stars, its lingering resonance drifting like smoke.
He was not singing in the official dialect. The servant said that Ji Yuwei was singing a Wu song, a tune that Wu Ping’an could not understand. Unconsciously, she no longer found it strange and became entranced by it.
When the song ended, Ji Yuwei opened his eyes. His clear, cool, and gentle gaze passed over the apricot blossom branches, easily landing on her.
The servant who had been kneeling in the distance accompanying with music stood up. After a while, only she and Ji Yuwei remained in the surroundings.
Ji Yuwei released the konghou, brought over a footrest and placed it on the carpet, beckoning her to come over: “Lady Wu, come sit here.”
Wu Ping’an stepped forward and knelt on the footrest.
He stroked the strings, showing no trace of the blood-stained disarray from his earlier battle with the monster beast. His voice clear and pleasant, he first asked her: “Lady Wu, did you understand what you just heard?”
Wu Ping’an felt awkward; she hadn’t understood.
“I didn’t understand, but…” Seeing that he was young, she feared hurting his feelings and hesitated before adding tactfully: “But it was grand and majestic, like the birth of spring.”
As these words left her mouth, she clearly saw the flush fade from Ji Yuwei’s face.
He glanced at her sidelong, a smile at the corner of his lips: “My lady speaks so well. Yuwei has never heard anyone interpret a song of a fallen kingdom as the meaning of spring.”
Wu Ping’an: …
She wasn’t an art student, how could she tell it was a song of a fallen kingdom? She only heard the surface-level lingering tenderness and grandeur, thinking it was some kind of song yearning for vitality.
Fortunately, Ji Yuwei didn’t seem to think what she said was wrong, and asked her to come closer.
He always carried an amiable spring-like aura of peaceful years. Unconsciously, Wu Ping’an moved her footrest a bit closer.
“My lady can discern that Yuwei changed the fallen kingdom’s Wu melody into a grand, sweeping spring that devours mountains and rivers. Surely you must also know how to play music.”
Ji Yuwei, from behind her, used a lotus stem to lift her wrist to touch the konghou.
Wu Ping’an was first chilled for an instant, then heard his soft, kind voice close to her ear, like a fragrant hook that easily caught her cochlea and tugged upward. She felt like a fish emerging from water, a tingling sensation rushing straight to the crown of her head upon seeing the light.
He was too close; she could even smell his scent—the bitterness of medicine mixed with floral fragrance, not unpleasant but rather refreshing.
Wu Ping’an was so startled that she quickly shook her hand, nearly slapping his face.
Because Ji Yuwei hadn’t expected her to dodge, her fingernail left a bloody scratch on his jade-like face, like a crack in beautiful porcelain tempered in fire.
This “imperfect” beauty made him appear more dignified and full of living qi.
Seeing that wound, Wu Ping’an’s heart skipped a beat: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
She had actually come to bid him farewell, but since he hadn’t shown any ill will toward her, she thought she should tell him before leaving. She hadn’t expected him to come and teach her the zither.
Ji Yuwei frowned slightly, pressing a handkerchief to the bloodstain on his chin, his expression faint and weary: “It’s fine.”
Though he said it was fine, in reality, he was obsessed with beauty like a madman and had already summoned a servant to fetch ointment for maintaining his appearance.
Soon, the servant brought a wooden tray filled with bottles and jars.
Wu Ping’an watched his fair, beautiful long fingers glide over those exquisite containers, then moved to sit a bit farther away, creating an unintentionally close distance.
Ji Yuwei did not avoid her, holding up a mirror and tilting his face to apply the ointment.
Watching his careful, self-loving posture, Wu Ping’an hesitated before speaking frankly: “Fifth Young Master, is there any way to take all the ‘living essence’ from my body? I’ve been away from home for several days and wish to return.”
Ji Yuwei shifted his gaze from the bronze mirror, his dark eyes looking at her with apparent curiosity. “Does Lady Wu wish to have all the living essence extracted?”
“Yes.” Wu Ping’an nodded, her gaze clear and bright as she looked at him.
Since the living essence was attached to her, and he could extract a portion, naturally he could take it all. Ending their relationship as soon as possible was the safest course of action.
Upon hearing this, Ji Yuwei tugged at the corner of his mouth. The wound on his face suddenly felt burning hot, but more than anything, he found it laughable.
He had thought that after what happened that night, she would realize that staying by his side was the safest option—his strength, his attentiveness, even his beauty. All of it would lead her to mistake the accelerated heartbeat from fear and forced dependence as attraction and affection for him.
Who would have thought that after giving her the cold shoulder for a few days, creating such an exquisite scene, and sharing a moment of peace with her for the second time, what she had in mind was leaving.
After a light laugh, Ji Yuwei’s expression returned to normal as he set down the ointment. Facing the mirror, he used petals to form a complete flower over his wound, unexpectedly agreeable. “Very well. However, extracting all the living essence may be more than you can bear.”
“I can handle it.” Wu Ping’an nodded firmly. No matter how difficult it was, she could endure it.
Ji Yuwei glanced sideways at her resolute eyes and chuckled softly. “There’s no need to face this as if it were life or death. It’s actually not that difficult. Wait here for a moment while I make some preparations.”
Wu Ping’an asked, “How long will it take?”
Ji Yuwei tilted his head in thought. “Not long—just a few incense sticks’ worth of time.”
“Very well, I’ll wait for you, my lord.” Wu Ping’an gazed at the apricot blossoms beside his cheek, which seemed to bloom from within his skin, growing more vibrant with his smile.
Ji Yuwei instructed the attendant to put away the konghou, then stood up, straightened his sleeves, and bowed to her. “I apologize for troubling you to wait here.”
Wu Ping’an watched him leave, wondering in her heart whether he would truly let her go.
Author’s Note:
Mountain Ghost: Ha, failed?!??! Hahaha, ha (face falls)
Ping’an: No acceptance of CPU, PUA, or NPC, thank you (manual smile)