“What do you mean by ‘like this’?” Jiang Congli looked up, his gaze landing on her slender waist.
It carried a faint, soft fragrance.
Pei Shuyi thought for a moment. “Considerate.”
Jiang Congli remained silent for a few steps.
“I’ve never been like that before.”
In other words, he was only this way with her.
Pei Shuyi curved her lips into a smile but said nothing.
The two continued walking forward. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering shards of gold across the stone path.
When they reached a small fork in the path, Pei Shuyi stopped and pointed to the stone steps on the left. “We go up this way.”
Jiang Congli glanced at the slope of the steps. “You go first.”
Pei Shuyi nodded and stepped onto the stone steps. Jiang Congli followed behind, maintaining an arm’s length distance—neither too close nor too far.
As they ascended, the hem of Pei Shuyi’s skirt swayed gently against the steps. The fabric clung to her body with each step before loosening again, outlining her slender waist and the subtle curve of her skirt.
Occasionally, a gust of wind would blow, pressing the skirt directly against her body, instantly revealing the lines of her waist and hips. Jiang Congli glanced a few times before casually looking away.
The osmanthus candy in the cloth bag swayed lightly with their steps, emitting faint rustling sounds, like a heartbeat.
The stone steps of Qingtan Mountain wound upward, growing narrower the higher they climbed. Some sections were so steep they required holding onto the iron chains alongside.
Pei Shuyi walked ahead, Jiang Congli followed behind, an arm’s length apart.
After about ten minutes, her breathing began to tighten.
Her body, dormant for five years, still struggled with climbing.
She didn’t say anything, but her pace slowed.
Jiang Congli didn’t rush her.
He simply shortened the distance from an arm’s length to half a step.
“Slow down,” Jiang Congli’s voice came from behind.
Just as he spoke, Pei Shuyi stepped on a protruding stone on the step, her foot slipping!
Suddenly, a hand appeared at her waist.
Steadily holding her.
His palm pressed against her waist, the dry warmth seeping through the thin fabric.
Pei Shuyi was pulled back by that hand, her back colliding with his chest.
“It’s fine,” Jiang Congli’s voice fell from above her head.
Pei Shuyi’s hand still gripped his sleeve, not letting go.
He didn’t pull away either.
The two stood like that for two seconds.
No one was on the steps above or below. Wind swept up from the valley, rustling the leaves loudly.
After a moment, Pei Shuyi released her hand first.
Her fingertips slid from his sleeve, dropping back to her side.
“Thank you.”
“Let me take you to rest for a bit,” Jiang Congli said.
Pei Shuyi nodded.
The man glanced around.
They were midway up the steps, with no platforms ahead or behind. On either side were mountain rocks and low shrubs; the nearest pavilion was two to three hundred meters away.
He led her to a slightly flatter spot, then took off his jacket, folded it twice, and laid it on the stone step.
“Sit for a while.”
Pei Shuyi looked at the dark gray jacket—handmade, custom-tailored, with exquisite fabric—hesitated for half a second, then sat down.
The next moment, Jiang Congli sat down to her right.
He sat on the step below hers, facing her, his back leaning against the mountain rocks.
Tall and long-limbed, even sitting a step lower, he still seemed taller than her.
Jiang Congli took a water bottle from the cloth bag, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to her.
Pei Shuyi took it, drank a few sips, then handed it back.
As Jiang Congli took the bottle, his thumb covered her index finger, pressing down lightly before taking the water bottle away.
The next second, he fished out another osmanthus candy from the cloth bag, unwrapped it, and peeled off the wrapper.
This time, he neither handed it to her nor placed it in his palm for her to take.
He held the candy up to her lips, pinching a corner of the wrapper with his fingertips, suspending it less than a centimeter from her mouth.
“Open up,” he said.
Pei Shuyi looked at the candy. “Are you treating me like a child?”
Jiang Congli didn’t respond, his hand remaining steady before her lips.
Pei Shuyi had no choice but to open her mouth and bite onto the candy. Then she leaned back slightly, pulling the candy away from the space between them.
Jiang Congli’s hand followed, pressing against the corner of Pei Shuyi’s lips as he used the back of his index finger to wipe away a trace of moisture.
Only after wiping it did he withdraw his hand, slowly rubbing his thumb against his index finger.
Pei Shuyi turned her face away.
She bit into the candy, and the sweetness of osmanthus flooded her mouth, so intense it made her feel a little dizzy.
A mountain breeze surged up from the valley, carrying the scent of grass, trees, and earth.
Sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves, falling upon the two of them in dappled patterns.
It was unclear how much time had passed when Pei Shuyi straightened up and stretched.
As her hand came down again, it brushed against his hand resting on his knee.
She paused, withdrew her hand, stood up, and patted the dust off her skirt.
“I’m rested now,” she said.
Jiang Congli stood up, picked up the jacket from the stone steps, shook it out, and put it on directly.
The next moment, his large hand grasped Pei Shuyi’s. “I’ll hold your hand.”
Caught off guard, Pei Shuyi’s palm was already enveloped in his. Almost the instant their hands touched, Jiang Congli’s fingers closed firmly, completely encasing her hand in his palm, leaving no room for refusal.
He led her up the mountain all the way.
About ten minutes later, the two finally arrived before the temple hall’s entrance.
On the plaque were the words “Puxian Hall,” written with bold, vigorous strokes, the paint already peeling.
Inside the hall, it was quiet—likely due to the difficulty of the ascent, with very few worshippers present.
Incense smoke curled upward, and the golden Buddha statue appeared especially solemn in the candlelight.
Before the altar stood an elderly man in gray monastic robes, his back to them as he arranged the incense and candles.
The moment Pei Shuyi stepped over the threshold, her footsteps faltered slightly.
That figure—
Almost instinctively, she recognized him.
The elder of the Pei family who had brought her up the mountain.
Her hand stiffened slightly within Jiang Congli’s grasp before she calmly lowered her gaze.
Jiang Congli sensed the change in her hand and glanced down at her but said nothing.
On the other side, hearing the footsteps, the elderly man turned around.
In his seventies, with white hair and beard, a ruddy complexion, and bright, sharp eyes.
He glanced at Pei Shuyi.
Then his gaze fell upon their intertwined hands—