071. Miracle?

A mountain may look close, but even a horse would die trying to reach it—how much more so a man. That old eagle’s head, jutting from the peaks like a sea-calming pillar, seemed almost within arm’s reach, but the more one walked, the further it retreated, as if it lay at the world’s edge, forever unreachable.

Lingjiu Mountain’s scenery was beautiful and vivid, and if this journey were merely a spring outing, there would be poetry in every step. Yet even the finest delicacies, eaten daily and at every meal, would eventually lose their flavor—how much faster, then, would one tire of early spring’s mountain vistas?

They had trekked countless miles. Exhaustion seeped into the bones, weariness dulled the mind, and Li Xi’s legs felt as heavy as if filled with lead. Regret welled up inside him—he cursed his own foolishness for coming to seek a master. If he truly wanted to learn and redeem himself, shouldn’t he have inquired more carefully first? He had charged up here, dragging Li Shisan and Wang Cai along, lugging heavy gifts of wine and blossoms, all on the word of Chen Zhaodi, a mere slip of a girl. Wasn’t this the legendary folly of the naive?

If only he’d had a touch more caution, or at least sent someone ahead to scout the way, he wouldn’t be in this plight. There was no inn ahead nor behind, no help from earth or heaven—a vast world, and he stood alone, grieving in silence.

That girl Mu Yaxin deserved a thorough scolding when he returned. Three days without discipline and she’d be tearing the house apart! She’d known this was a trap and still watched him jump in without a word. Clearly, she was taking petty revenge for being forced to apologize to the proper lady of the house. Ah, women—so little sense! Cui Yingying’s status and hers were worlds apart. Had he not indulged Mu Yaxin, favored her, given her all his affection for three days running? Yet if he showed no regard for the primary wife’s dignity, how was the noble Cui family to save face? What would others think of him, or of her, or of the wronged wife?

A man must be fair within and without, mustn’t he? She lacked perspective.

One cannot be too greedy in life, cannot hope to hoard all the blessings for oneself. Bite off more than you can chew, and you’ll ruin yourself. The coveted is easily envied—an innocent man with a prized gem still draws disaster. He had devoted himself to Mu Yaxin, kept her company each night so she needn’t feel lonely. Did she ever consider the other’s position? If their roles were reversed, wouldn’t she gnash her teeth in resentment, sleepless night after night, clutching her pillow?

She’d already enjoyed the real benefit—could she not spare a little face for the other? If one stands too tall, the wind will find you; act too harshly, and you’ll invite hatred. Why build such a grand house, if not to someday take in more? If she couldn’t manage harmony with just one rival, what would happen when there were more? Bite everyone once—how many teeth did she have?

He always curbed her impulses to temper her character. She claimed low emotional intelligence, but he wasn’t especially bright either, yet hadn’t he managed well? Why? Because he compensated for what nature lacked, always seeking to improve. Don’t ask what books he read—she wouldn’t understand if he showed her. But that wasn’t the point. He kept her in check for her own good; humility in a family such as theirs was all benefit, no drawback.

She thought herself clever but was really quite the opposite. Did she really need him to spell things out face-to-face? It wasn’t that he was acting coy—he was simply embarrassed. Still, both women were his, and he had to be fair to both.

He urged her to keep a low profile, for her own sake. The tallest tree catches the wind; the first to stand out draws fire. Even if she didn’t know guns, she’d seen arrows and slingshots—they all served the same purpose: to shoot down birds perched in trees. Where was she looking?

He advised her to appear weak, lest she become a target. She was not the proper wife, nor did she have the backing of a powerful family; she was vulnerable. She couldn’t always rely on him. He often joked that the only difference between himself and a god was the name, but in truth, there was a difference: gods were omnipotent; he could only manage sometimes. She, of all people, should know that.

He was destined for great things—or at least for the semblance of greatness. He couldn’t spend every day at home by her side. If he wasn’t there, and she made enemies with her high profile, wouldn’t she be asking for trouble?

If she kept her head down, the others would focus their hostility on the main wife instead. She needed only to know this—better not to go telling everyone it was his advice. Let them tear each other apart while she watched from the sidelines, cracking seeds and enjoying the spectacle. If the drama slowed, she could stir things up a bit, fan the flames, kindle a few ghostly fires.

If she insisted on standing out, she’d end up boiled alive. If she kept quiet, she could watch others be cooked and even get a share herself—which was better?

Such treacherous logic was hard for him to voice; his conscience pricked him, and besides, her loose lips were a hazard. If he so much as passed gas in bed, she’d run out shouting about the smell—what wouldn’t she blurt out if he shared this?

Her sulking did nothing to change the facts. They knew each other well; if he said a word, it would reach the proper wife in less than half an hour. Where would that leave his dignity? Wouldn’t that just stir up strife between husband and wife, land him in boiling water?

He wasn’t the fool—she was. He’d only give hints, like a charlatan, and let her puzzle out the rest. She needed to learn to think for herself. She was no longer a child—if she didn’t give him an heir soon, when the younger generation grew up, with her empty head, hot temper, and growing waistline, she’d be lucky to secure even a corner in the household.

He was exasperated—over such a trivial matter, she’d let him walk into disaster without a word of warning. Did she deserve his affection? Wait till tonight, if he wasn’t dead tired, and see how he’d settle the score.

Lost in such muddled thoughts, Li Xi sat on a stump by the roadside as Li Shisan returned from scouting ahead. His sleeves rolled, chest bare, breath heaving, he saw Li Xi seated and called out, “Don’t sit there! Too much yin energy—it’ll harm your health.”

Li Xi, obliging, leapt up. The stump might not have harbored evil spirits, but it was certainly damp—if someone saw his trousers wet, they’d think he’d had an accident, and that would be no laughing matter.

“There’s no path ahead—all thorns and vines. We’ll have to hack our way through. What do you say—keep going or turn back?” Li Shisan wiped his brow. Since coming south with Li Xi, he’d grown plumper—likely a sign of happiness. Lan’er, his wife, was growing even faster—perhaps the boy had finally learned to cherish her.

Lately, Li Xi had been considering getting him a minor post at the county office—too conspicuous at the prefecture. The lad wasn’t well-schooled, but he was clever; a few years stewing in the county’s stagnant waters might just make something of him.

As for Wang Cai, best not to send him out to stew with the others—keep him home as steward. He was meticulous, decisive, perfect for the job, and more importantly, honest.

“What do you think? Should we press on or turn back?” Li Xi grinned, testing Li Shisan’s wits.

“Maybe we should try again tomorrow? But then, turning back won’t help much either—let’s keep going. I’ll chop a way through.” Li Shisan could see Li Xi didn’t fancy retreating. A little probing, and he jumped up to lead the way. The boy had a good eye for people—wasting his talent would be a shame.

Wang Cai followed with a hatchet in hand. Li Shisan was always better at talking than doing; Wang Cai was the opposite. Together, their blades would clear the way, and Li Xi calculated they’d reach the eagle’s head by noon and be back in Shaozhou before dark.

If he wasn’t flat on his back by then, he’d show that Mu girl what revenge looked like. Rubbing his damp palms and licking his parched lips, a touch of tenderness welled up within him.

He had to admit he favored Mu Yaxin a little more.

“This isn’t right—it’s unfair to Yingying. I must be impartial. That poor child,” he told himself.

Catching his breath, Li Xi stood, stretched his limbs, and felt a wave of dizziness as if starved of air—nearly losing his footing. Falling here would be no joke. The mountain path was shaded and thick with mist, as if it were raining, and the ground was slick. Sleep here and you’d likely never wake.

The southern landscape was nothing like the northwest. This time of year, the northern forests would still be full of dead leaves and bare branches. Here, it was already a paradise of clouds and mist. The ancients said the dragon’s passage brings clouds, the tiger’s brings wind. With such mists, could Lingjiu Mountain hide a dragon? If so, would this not be a celestial mountain? And if so, why would there be such ferocious beasts?

Suddenly, Li Xi’s mind went blank, dizzy as if in a dream, every pore exuding terror. Could anyone not fear it? A mountain leopard had appeared, silent as a shadow. If you felt your heart pounding, ready to burst, would you blame yourself?

The beast had slipped out from behind a clump of shrubs. When Li Xi spotted it, they were less than four meters apart—perhaps five, but it hardly mattered. What mattered was knowing that whether he ran upright or on all fours, his odds of escape were close to zero.

Play dead? The thought flickered and died. That was a leopard, not a bear. Playing dead was no help—it would only make the beast’s job easier. Would it appreciate his surrender and spare his body? Hardly. With fresh meat so close, who could resist? He wasn’t old or sick, his skin still smooth.

If he could kneel and offer it three thousand cattle and three thousand sheep to feed its family forever, he’d do it in a heartbeat. If he could buy his life with every coin he owned, he’d gladly spend his days as a minor official, living quietly and cultivating virtue.

But it was just a beast—reason was useless. Could he even tell it there were two fatter, fairer men ahead?

Despair flooded him in an instant, freezing his blood and stopping his heart.