The instant their eyes met, Shen Xiyin froze. Only after several breaths did she recover, realizing the mortifying situation unfolding before her. Her inner garment, soaked through, clung tightly to her body, its outline starkly revealed. Instinctively, she lowered her gaze—and caught sight of the faint shadow beneath the translucent fabric. Shock drained the color from her face, and she plunged back into the stream in panic.
Pei Su reacted a moment earlier, turning aside and closing his eyes.
Shen Xiyin’s uneven breaths rippled across the water’s surface, circle after circle. She tried to console herself: the night was deep, he stood at some distance, and she was not entirely unclothed. Surely he had not seen clearly.
Both harbored their own thoughts, yet neither spoke. The air seemed suspended, broken only by the murmur of flowing water.
After an indeterminate time, she heard his footsteps retreating, followed by a solemn—“Forgive me.”
That apology was an admission: he had seen.
She had thought he would pretend nothing had happened, preserving his reputation as a gentleman and sparing them both humiliation. But those words tore away the fragile veil of denial. Her body shrank within the stream at the sound, lashes trembling uncontrollably with shame. Her heart recoiled, yet the knowledge—he saw—stirred a strange response in her body. It was a secret thrill, transgressive and unsettling, leaving her restless. She knew she should not feel this way, knew she ought to resist, but denial only fanned the flame. Her illness was worsening. What was she to do?
Helpless, Shen Xiyin leaned against the stream’s rocks, gasping until the strange force within her subsided somewhat. Only then did she slowly make her way upstream, back to shore. Beads of water slid down her body, drop by drop. A gust of night wind brushed past, and she shivered, folding her arms tightly around herself. Moments earlier, she had been so overwhelmed that she had thrown herself into the stream without hesitation. Now her clothes clung to her, soaked through, and she had nothing dry to change into.
After making sure no one was nearby, she slipped behind a large rock and untied the sash of her inner garment. The wet fabric peeled away from her skin as it fell. Her waterlogged dress shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
Shen Xiyin caught sight of the sheen that clung to it—something heavier than the stream’s clarity—and quickly raised a hand to cover her face, unable to bear looking any longer.
Deep in the forest, the night sky was cold and silent.
Pei Su strode swiftly through the trees, his expression grave. The illusions here were nothing more than crude sorcery. That Madam Xu, being mortal, was ensnared by it was understandable. But such tricks should never have affected him. Only because his spiritual power had slipped out of control had he failed to detect every trap.
At the thought, Pei Su let out a cold laugh and pressed his fingers to his brow. Since when had he begun making excuses for himself? His power being restrained had indeed hindered him, but to be deceived by such illusions was, in truth, the fault of his own wavering will. He had let anger rise when the evil formation insulted him, and shame take hold when confronted with its filth. He had failed to master his rage, failed to endure disgrace.
If his heart was not steadfast, how could he hope to cultivate himself or govern his household? He needed to reflect.
The thick night concealed his unrest and simmering fury, until at last the first light of dawn began to scatter the darkness.
Yesterday, Shen Xiyin had tried once again to improve her method of drilling wood for fire, but still no spark came forth.
Fortunately, it was early summer. The clothes she had soaked through, wrung out, and spread across a stone to dry overnight were now almost dry—though still faintly damp to the touch, clinging uncomfortably when worn.
It had been two days since they left the stone chamber for the forest, yet everything remained unchanged. No prompt for the next trial had sounded.
Shen Xiyin felt relief, yet unease lingered—like knowing a blade would fall sooner or later, but never seeing its glint. She drew a deep breath, steadied herself, and went into the woods to forage. She vaguely remembered that Pei Su’s footsteps the night before had faded toward the left. So, when she set out, she deliberately turned right, hoping to keep her distance.
But in this maze, the more one wished to avoid something, the more likely it was to appear.
She had not gone far before she ran straight into him among the trees.
The forest wind stirred the treetops, rustling them just enough to keep the silence from becoming absolute.
The words “Forgive me” from last night still echoed in her mind. Shen Xiyin instinctively pulled her collar tighter. Across from her, the man stood pale-faced and solemn, motionless in the forest. When he saw her approach, he closed his eyes and furrowed his brow.
Pei Su raised a hand to his forehead as a strange dizziness swept through his mind. Since his hurried walk the previous night, this vertigo had returned again and again. He told himself his will remained intact—that such petty illusions should not bring him so low.
Shen Xiyin was about to turn away, but seeing him like this, she paused and looked at him more closely. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked softly: “Are you hungry?”
Pei Su lifted his eyes. “Hungry?”
Since childhood, he had practiced fasting from grains and, for many years, had never felt the pull of appetite. To suddenly hear that word now struck him as absurd. Then he reconsidered—perhaps it was because his spiritual power was restricted, and the faint trace of energy left within him could no longer sustain this body.
Shen Xiyin had heard from disciples of the Xu clan at Changliu that masters of profound cultivation did not eat the five grains; to them, food was dispensable. But she had known hunger all too well, and understood better than anyone what it meant to be starving. She loosened the cloth bundle slung over her shoulder. Inside were some wild fruits she had meant to eat during her rest in the forest.
Pei Su watched as she picked out a few of the better ones from the pile of shriveled, dark-brown mountain fruit and quietly set them at his feet.
Pressing her lips together, Shen Xiyin said, “There aren’t any fruit trees nearby that can fill the stomach. If you need them, make do with these. I mean, if you do.”
If not, then forget it.
She finished without lingering, retied her bundle, and turned to leave.
Pei Su lowered his gaze, silently regarding the fruits at his feet, but did not touch them. He was not yet so hungry that he could not walk.
Shen Xiyin went deeper into the forest, found two suitable pieces of wood, and planned to try again later to see if she could make fire.
By noon, the sun was beating down. She raised her sleeve to wipe the fine sweat from her neck, then took from her waist a water pouch she had fashioned from fruit shells and tree bark, and tilted her head back to drink.
The makeshift pouch was not tightly sealed; as she parted her lips to drink, two thin streams trickled down from the corners of her mouth.
When Pei Su approached, he saw water glistening as it slipped from her lips, trailing down her slender neck and soaking into her collar. He had meant to act as though he hadn’t seen, but Shen Xiyin had noticed him too.
In such a vast forest, to cross paths again and again—no matter how one explained it, coincidence had long ceased to be convincing, all the more so since they had been deliberately avoiding each other.
Pei Su knew what doubt lingered in her mind, and simply said, “There are illusions set within the forest.”
It was impossible for them to truly avoid one another.
The restless heat within Shen Xiyin’s body threatened to surface; she pressed her reddened lips tightly together. She did not know how much longer she could endure.
Pei Su turned, intending to leave.
Her fingertips, reddened from gripping the water pouch too tightly, trembled as she struggled to ask, “Will we be able to get out safely?”
Pei Su was silent for a moment before answering, “Perhaps.” He plucked a green leaf and studied it in thought. Every blade of grass and tree here was real, not conjured by illusion. He leaned toward the belief that they had not been trapped in the Enchantment Maze, but rather transported to some remote place in the mortal world. Like a lonely island, a hidden forest, or a desolate mountain. And around this place, a powerful barrier had been set, cutting them off completely from the outside world.
After sunset, Shen Xiyin returned to the stream carrying the fruits and wood she had gathered from the forest. She had been certain that this time, with a sturdy hardwood stick for the drill and a dry pine board for the base, she would finally succeed in making fire. Yet even after her palms were nearly rubbed raw, not a single wisp of smoke appeared.
The world was always like this—things rarely went as one wished.
She sighed softly, set the board aside, and took a few mountain fruits from her bundle. Finding a spot by the stream with a pleasant view, she sat down, intending to eat a little to stave off hunger. But then she noticed something near a large stone in the distance. Curious, she walked closer—and saw several fresh peaches laid out there.
Yesterday she had struggled mightily to obtain just one, and now here were several. They could not possibly have appeared out of thin air.
Shen Xiyin opened her mouth, stunned for a long moment before she recovered. She picked up the peaches and followed the trail of the forest’s illusion barrier until she found the person she sought.
Pei Su stood beneath the shade of a tree, the dappled sunset falling across his immaculate dark robe.
Shen Xiyin hurried forward, stepping on her hem several times, her breath uneven as she stammered, “Respected elder… the… the peaches…”
Pei Su glanced at her briefly, then withdrew his gaze and said, “I do not like owing favors.”