Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Morning Dew in His Eyes and the River of Heaven
The camellias on Pengxu Mountain were even more beautiful than expected.
However, those with brighter colors had mostly wilted, leaving only some pale white little flower hearts that were still dotted across the mountain.
Just like the color of Zhang Xiaoying’s dress.
After disembarking, Sang Zhe quickly took Zhang Xiaoying up the mountain after grabbing a quick bite in town.
Zhang Xiaoying had no idea why he was in such a hurry, and throughout the journey, he seemed to be acting all secretive as if he was planning something behind her back.
She didn’t ask.
Sang Zhe also didn’t seem eager to explain.
After all, it was peak flower season. On their way up, they occasionally encountered some tourists.
Most of them were coming down, after all, the mountain wind could be chilly at night, and there was nowhere to stay.
It was rare to see someone like Sang Zhe and Zhang Xiaoying going against the flow.
Passersby would throw them strange looks for hiking up so late in the evening.
Every time that happened, Sang Zhe would hold Zhang Xiaoying’s hand tightly.
Zhang Xiaoying would wonder why someone who looked so thin like Sang Zhe would grip her hand with such strength.
He held on tight, unwilling to let go no matter what.
But even though they were pressed for time, when they finally reached the flower garden at the summit, the night had already begun to showcase the stars.
From the slope, they could faintly see the twinkling lights of the town below, like soft glowing orbs.
“Phew…”
Finally arriving at their destination, Sang Zhe sighed in relief.
He led Zhang Xiaoying to a tree at the edge of the cliff and told her to wait there while he went to talk to the old man who managed this flower garden.
Zhang Xiaoying nodded quietly.
The tree’s position seemed carefully chosen; without needing to look far, she could see the myriad lights of the town below by simply lowering her head.
Looking up, she could see the starry sky above.
The mountain wind at night felt sharp, causing Zhang Xiaoying to huddle in her coat.
Suddenly, she recalled that the cliff outside the Qing Ning Hall of the Water Moon Sect also had a secluded spot like this.
Sometimes, when her dorm sisters went out to meet their crushes, she would sit alone on the grass in front of that cliff.
Dazed, she would look up at the blemish-free night sky above the fairy mountain.
She was only fourteen or fifteen back then. Zhang Xiaoying thought she probably didn’t even know what loneliness or frailty meant. Occasionally, when the mountain wind blew a little cold, she would suddenly wonder if her roommates’ lovers would wrap a coat around them if they felt cold.
Would they sit together on the cliff, gazing foolishly at the sky?
Would having someone to share the views make the coldness fade away?
At that young age, Zhang Xiaoying had no answers.
What replaced that was her adapting to the lonely nights. She grew used to hiding in her world while quietly passing the time.
Accustomed to not going out when it got cold. Turning off the lights and sleeping early.
To this day, Zhang Xiaoying still felt deep down like that silent, awkward, plain little duckling girl.
That little girl had never changed, still sitting alone at the cliff in front of the Qing Ning Hall in her memories. If she reached out her hand, she could feel that girl’s slightly trembling shoulder.
But Zhang Xiaoying felt a bit sorry for her.
Because she still had to sit there all alone for a long time.
Until she grew a bit taller, gradually becoming a delicate young lady.
Until the chatter around her shifted from which disciple was handsome to which man was comfortable to sleep with.
Until she went out for training after finishing her studies.
Then getting caught up in dazzling magic, injured and disoriented, lying flat on the ground like a dying duck, quietly watching her companions drift away.
Even now, Zhang Xiaoying could vividly recall.
Lying there on the cold ground, aching all over, tasting blood in her mouth.
She watched as those so-called sisters from her sect, who used to put on friendly faces and smiles, fled without a hint of hesitation.
She didn’t feel hatred, sadness, or any tragic emotions then.
She merely felt a bit lonely and regretful.
Like she was dying, resembling that ugly duckling from her memories.
Unnoticed, lying alone by the roadside.
The people from the sect had forgotten her. The demon cultivators hadn’t even noticed her.
Dying quietly and soundlessly.
…
“Isn’t it cold?” A warm covering suddenly draped across her shoulders.
Zhang Xiaoying looked up to see Sang Zhe holding a coat, and she couldn’t help but softly say, “I… I’m not cold.”
“When we’re alone, don’t refer to yourself as ‘servant.'”
He grinned foolishly, “It feels… weird.”
Zhang Xiaoying gazed at Sang Zhe.
She remembered being the same then, vaguely hearing a warm voice in a blurry haze.
—That, can I take her back?
—But she’s dying, she can’t be saved. Just do a casual inquiry.
—It’s fine. I want to try.
The voice was unclear to Zhang Xiaoying.
But she felt it was very warm, like inhaling the scent of a sunlit grassy meadow.
Yet she seriously remembered that voice.
Fortunately, when she woke up, the first thing she heard was that same voice.
—Miss, are you okay?
…
“Are you okay?” Sang Zhe looked at the dazed Zhang Xiaoying with concern.
Zhang Xiaoying nodded.
“Where did you go, Master?”
“Ahem.” Sang Zhe suddenly cleared his throat awkwardly, “I, uh, went to say hello.”
“Now, this mountain peak is booked by us until tomorrow morning.”
“This—such a beautiful sea of flowers; tonight it’s just for us two.”
He pointed proudly at the camellia garden in front of them, like a child showing off a high score.
“Is it pretty?”
Zhang Xiaoying looked at the pale white camellias swaying in the mountain breeze.
“Pretty.” She suddenly smiled.
Sang Zhe seemed dazed for a moment.
“Should we spend the night on the mountain?”
“Ah… you’re not tired, right?” He scratched his head, “I think the atmosphere is quite nice; I’d like to chat with you.”
“Okay.”
He took her hand and leaned against the tree to sit down.
The entire night, time flowed silently like a clear stream.
They talked for so long that she couldn’t remember the details.
By the time Zhang Xiaoying came back to her senses, Sang Zhe had already laid down near her knees, gently asleep.
The starry river hadn’t disappeared yet. Zhang Xiaoying lowered her gaze towards the flower petals beside her.
The condensed dew gathered in the petal curve, reflecting the ugly duckling’s feathers slowly shedding their darkness.
She vaguely saw in her memories that little girl, sitting silently in front of the cliff, suddenly getting tapped on the shoulder.
A little boy reached out to her with her tear-streaked face.
The boy’s eyes held a petal’s morning dew.
A mountain full of pale white camellias.
And a clear river of sky.
In the last moment before dawn, a leaf from the tree perfectly dropped a drop of dew, landing on the corner of Sang Zhe’s mouth.
Zhang Xiaoying gazed deeply at the serene face of the man before her for a long while.
Then, cautiously, like an innocent little girl still struggling to understand her feelings.
She leaned down to kiss that drop of dew.
A bit by bit, tasting Sang Zhe’s soft, moist lips.
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