Chapter 11 Clouds and Rain over Mount Wu

Chapter 11 Passion and Rain on Witch Mountain

Yet A Wu had not expected that after Nie San left, it began to rain. Rain seeped into the cave, leaving everything damp.

Her original Taoist robe had long been discarded, and Nie San had somehow found her a plain outfit—a white embroidered blouse and a green silk skirt—plain but flimsy. Now, in this gloomy weather, she shivered uncontrollably, her teeth chattering, and her feet numb to the point of losing sensation.

The cave was dark, the cold seeping into her bones. She hugged the bundle tightly, but inside were only cold, hard gold ingots.

For the first time, she thought gold ingots were unyielding and unpleasant—they could neither warm her nor fill her stomach.

Resentment swelled as she looked around. Rainwater trickled down the moss-covered stone walls, and half-dead vines knotted together, with what seemed like spiderwebs or other insects lurking in the shadows.

The gnarled rocks jutting from the walls looked especially menacing in the night.

She stared wide-eyed, the longer she looked, the more they seemed like flesh-eating demons that might leap out at any moment, jaws gaping.

Then, a mountain breeze swept through, damp and chilly, rustling the vines with eerie whispers, like muffled sobs.

A Wu’s hair stood on end. She sat rigidly, clutching her bundle, eyes darting warily around.

Suddenly, something darted out of the darkness. A Wu let out a yelp and scrambled up.

Only when her panic subsided did she realize it was just a rat.

A rat—again?!

These damn mountain rats!

Crushed, she collapsed to the ground and burst into tears.

She had to get out. She couldn’t take it anymore. Even if she died, she’d rather die among people, not in this godforsaken place.

Wiping her tears, she stumbled out of the cave and scanned the area in confusion.

The autumn rain had lightened to a drizzle. A Wu, burdened with her bundle, peered around with teary, shining eyes before settling her gaze on a grove of pine trees ahead.

Among them stood a gnarled old pine, its base softened by rain and fallen leaves.

She hurried over, picked up a sharp stone, and began digging.

With her rare beauty already a liability, carrying so much silver would only invite trouble even if she made it down the mountain. The weight of the bundle dragged her down, and the treacherous, slippery paths made the gold worthless—only a hindrance.

For now, she had no choice but to abandon the gold, burying it here in hopes of retrieving it once the noble visitors left.

The rest was in fate’s hands.

But digging was no easy task. The dirt was matted with leaves, gravel, and weeds—some with sharp thorns.

The stone she’d grabbed in haste was clumsy, forcing her to use her pampered hands, unused to rough work, soon aching and nearly bleeding.

The mountain air bit through her, the wind whipping her face with freezing rain.

The sorrier she felt for herself, the more tears streamed down her cheeks.

Yet she knew she couldn’t rely on anyone. Swallowing her cries, she hid her gold as best she could.

Every man in this world was useless—the Crown Prince the worst of all, Lu Yunjian no good, and Nie San a letdown. Every last one of them worthless!

She could only rely on herself to hide the gold, plotting for the future.

After finally burying the gold, A Wu covered it with scattered stones and dead leaves, then used the sharp end of a stone to carve a mark on the pine tree, thinking that one day she would return to dig up her treasure.

This was her treasure.

Having done all this, she tightened her skirt with its sash, wiped away her tears, and started her descent down the mountain.

With guards stationed nearby, what else could she do? She could only pretend to be a lost townswoman wandering the mountains, hoping to blend in.

If she failed to deceive them, perhaps she would have to face whatever came.

Fortunately, she was young and beautiful—she might have to trade her body, but at least she would likely keep her life.

As for purity or virtue, she didn’t care much. In her village, men who went to sea would be gone for half a year or longer. The women left behind held on day after day, until one day, with no hope left, they might take up with another man.

And when their husbands returned, they would leave the new men behind.

Before her mother died, she had urged A Wu to live, no matter what, even warning her that if she ever encountered a villain, she must never bear his child—she must protect her body.

So if she had to trade her flesh for her life now, she was ready.

Having made up her mind, she felt less afraid. Carefully, she made her way down, though the mountain path was steep and muddy. Every step required careful thought—where to place her foot next—until she could barely keep up.

Then suddenly, her foot slipped, and she felt herself tumbling downward.

Terrified, she shut her eyes, her mind blank!

But there was no sharp pain—instead, she hit the water with a splash, her body embraced by the warm, soothing water.

She knew how to swim. Even the weakest coastal women could swim, and in her panic, her body instinctively floated.

Stunned, she took in her surroundings and realized she had fallen into a natural hot spring.

Under the moonlight, water gushed from a nearby spring, and around the pool were various items—incense burners, golden vases, shoes, hats, and clothing.

Judging by these belongings, whoever used this spring was no commoner—and likely… a man?

As her thoughts raced, she felt a gaze upon her.

Her heart tightened as she instinctively turned toward it. Through the steam, a piercing gaze scrutinized her from above, like a god judging a mortal.

A Wu clutched her clothes, rooted in place, staring in the direction of that gaze.

Exhausted and stiff with cold, she stood in the inviting warmth of the water yet felt no comfort.

She didn’t know where she was, who she had encountered, or what awaited her next.

At this thought, her legs gave way—she could barely stand, her frail body swaying unsteadily.

Her mother was gone, buried by her own hands. Her father and brother had boarded a ship bound for distant shores, never to return. At such a young age, she had passed between men—what did it matter? When her beauty faded, would she even have a coffin to call her own?

So… what did it matter?

Tears welled slowly in her eyes as she wanted to die.

Then, the man took a step forward.

With a splash of water, the steam parted, and A Wu saw the man’s bare, powerful torso.

The muscles on his chest were too well-defined, with deeply chiseled contours as if carved by a knife.

To A Wu at this moment, it was nothing short of a crushing sense of intimidation.

Her legs weakened, clutching scraps of fabric barely covering her, her body shaking like a leaf.

She wanted to run but knew there was no escape.

Then, the man finally spoke: "You... where did you come from?"

His voice was rich and velvety, even soothing.

A Wu oddly found it sounded familiar, though she couldn’t recall where she had heard it before.

Gnawing on her trembling lip, she shivered, unable to utter a sound, only staring at him with wide, pleading eyes.

The man then asked, "Are you cold?"

At the word "cold," her tears came harder. She shuddered and nodded timidly.

The man soaking in the spring was the Jingxi Emperor himself.

He’d come to Nanqiongzi to pray, stealing a quiet moment that evening in the mountain hot springs, with no concubines or servants around.

He never expected that, while bathing, a girl would come crashing down right into his spring.

The moment the water splashed, the Imperial Guard had already concealed themselves in the shadows, ready to act on his signal.

Yet, as he observed the woman before him—her eyes glazed with terror and helplessness, pathetic and frail—the Jingxi Emperor was reminded of a fledgling fallen from its nest, weak and defenseless, thrust into an unfamiliar world before it had even glimpsed life.

Having ruled for years, the emperor had long hardened his heart, but faced with this trembling little fledgling, he felt a strange urge to protect her.

With a barely perceptible wave, he raised his hand. After a brief hesitation, the Imperial Guard and nearby attendants withdrew.

The fine rain had stopped, and steam curled around them. The bronze-horned lamp on the carved lacquer table cast a soft glow, while faint fireflies flickered between light and shadow among the trees.

Everything was serene, damp, and dreamlike.

A Wu stared dazedly at the man before her.

Though unclothed, standing in the hot spring, he radiated natural authority—the poise of someone born to power, the composure of one long accustomed to command.

In her panic, she wondered wildly: Who was he?

Then, the man extended his hand toward her and commanded softly, "Come here."

Gripping her tattered clothes, A Wu cautiously looked up. The man had broad shoulders, a firm waist, and arms with smooth, defined lines. His fingers were elegant, and on one of them gleamed a gleaming band.

A Wu recognized it as a thumb ring.

Having served Lu Yunjian and the crown prince, she had seen her share of fine things and sensed this was a ring of superior jade, exquisitely carved.

A man who wore such a ring even while bathing must hold considerable status—especially one of rank in the imperial capital.

A spark of hope flared in A Wu’s chest.

Lost and desperate in the water, had she just found a lifeline?

Should she step forward and cling to this lifeline?

At that moment, she felt an intense gaze scrutinizing her.

Her lashes fluttered as she lifted her eyes, only to meet his unwavering gaze.

They were pale amber eyes—calm, rational, and detached, observing her without a trace of emotion.

A Wu’s heart lurched in panic, her footing faltering as she nearly stumbled into the water.

A chilling realization dawned on her—she could never control this man. He was neither the young Crown Prince nor the easily manipulated Nie San.

The man’s thin lips parted slightly as he spoke again, “Come here.”

Just two words, yet they were sharp, imperious, and unyielding, carrying an authority that tolerated no disobedience.

A Wu dared not disobey. Shaking, she forced herself forward, moving toward the man.

The closer she got, the more her fear grew.

This man exuded an aura that seemed to tower over all creation, so much so that as she approached, her limbs shook violently.

Suddenly, her footing gave way, and she pitched forward into the water.

With lightning reflexes, the Jingxi Emperor stepped forward, his long arm reaching out to catch A Wu and pull her into his embrace.

She was light, barely requiring any effort to hold.

Lowering his head, the Jingxi Emperor gazed at the slender frame in his arms. Amid the mist and swirling vapor, in the quiet mountain springs, her luminous skin resembled pristine Dehua porcelain—lustrous, unblemished, and warm to the touch. Her soaked white silk robe clung to her like gossamer clinging to her willowy curves, while the damp emerald skirt floated in the warm water like drifting orchid petals.

It was all so dreamlike that the Jingxi Emperor felt as though he had stepped into a dream of carnal bliss.

His strong fingers gently lifted her delicate chin, and once more, he peered into those glistening, tear-filled eyes.

Her tears shimmered as she gazed back at him, innocent and helpless.

Studying her eyes, his voice deepened. “Did you fall from the moon, or rise from the Milky Way?”