The Dragon

Rain was falling on Jingdu Mountain, the mountain scenery shrouded in a misty haze, and the air was damp.

A group trekked across the wet grass, their steps producing a soft rustling sound.

Qing Jun glanced at the clouded sky. The weather was gloomy, reflecting the somber and melancholic mood of a person, neither warm sunshine nor heavy rain, but a continuous drizzle.

Scholar Zhai, having climbed halfway up the mountain, was panting heavily. As she was resting on a large rock and holding an oil-paper umbrella, she asked, “Gu Fuyou, how did you know Zhong Michu is at Xuan Miao Sect?”

She had initially wanted to ask, “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to reconcile with her?” Considering the heated argument they had a few days ago and Gu Fuyou’s unpredictable moods lately, she refrained from posing the question directly.

Qing Jun responded, “Little White Dragon wouldn’t feel at ease being far away. She must still be in Nanzhou, and if she’s in Nanzhou, then Xuan Miao Sect is the only place she could go.” After all, other places were already in Gu Fuyou’s control.

Her voice carried a tone of weariness and an inexplicable charm.

The group heard her referring to Zhong Michu as “Little White Dragon” for the first time and looked at her in surprise, thinking she might have really gone mad, given her bizarre behavior.

Yi’er, trailing behind and holding Xinghan’s hand, cast a pitiful glance filled with worry and sadness towards Qing Jun. Since deciding to join the group, Yi’er noticed a stark change in her “Ah Man Mother” who had become distant and cold, especially towards her. This coldness seemed almost like rejection, and Yi’er, sensing it keenly, had no choice but to follow quietly from the rear.

Yi’er found herself engulfed in confusion. The victory her mothers had achieved, gaining control over the Thirty-Three Skies and vanquishing their enemies, was supposed to be a cause for celebration. However, joy turned to dismay as arguments erupted unexpectedly. In a sudden burst of anger, her mother left and vanished from sight. This departure marked a dramatic shift in Ah Man Mother’s behavior—her mood became unpredictable, her temperament altered drastically, and, most hurtfully, she began to ignore Yi’er. Feeling increasingly isolated and perceiving herself as an unwanted child, Yi’er’s sorrow deepened, and tears inevitably started to gather in her eyes.

As the group reached halfway up the mountain, two disciples clad in plain white robes descended from the sky on their swords. Landing gracefully, they sheathed their swords and greeted the group with a bow. “Are you here to visit the mountain or looking for someone?”

Without any hesitation, Qing Jun responded, “I’m looking for Zhong Michu. Is she here?”

The two disciples exchanged glances and then inspected the group again before asking, “Do you have an invitation or a name card?”

They did not directly deny her presence, indicating Zhong Michu was indeed there.

Qing Jun was a bit impatient, as she disliked being stopped. Still smiling, she said, “What need for an invitation? My face is the invitation. Zhong Michu will recognize me at a glance.”

The two disciples had never encountered such brazenness, but Qing Jun’s captivating face, smiling at them, turned their ears red with embarrassment.

One whispered to the other, “Junior Brother, I’ll notify our Master. You stay with them.” With that, he left swiftly, resembling a gust of wind.

The remaining disciple, a tad flustered, called out, “Senior Brother! Senior Brother!” but was a step too late.

This disciple sneakily glanced at Qing Jun, but upon making eye contact, quickly lowered his head, stepped aside, and gestured, “Please, this way…”

The group continued up the mountain and entered the gates of Xuan Miao Sect. There, they met the disciple who had gone ahead. Standing beside him was a woman in a dark purple light gown, elegant and graceful.

Yi’er called out, “Aunt Dongli.”

Dongli responded with a smile, “When I heard the disciples’ description, I knew it was you coming to look for your mother.”

Yi’er briefly glanced at Qing Yun and nodded, “Mhm.”

Dongli followed Yi’er’s gaze back to Qing Jun. She had heard Zhong Michu mention Qing Jun and Gu Fuyou but had never seen Qing Jun’s body, so she couldn’t immediately recognize her.

Now, seeing Yi’er following her and her beautiful appearance, Dongli realized this was Qing Jun’s body, but assumed Gu Fuyou was inside.

Knowing that Zhong Michu had suddenly returned to Xuan Miao Sect and seeing her distraught state, even without her saying anything, Dongli guessed that something had happened between them.

Thus, Gu Fuyou’s arrival at Xuan Miao Sect came as a surprise. Dongli asked, “Are you here for Michu?”

Qing Jun, appearing as if she had come to settle a debt, asked, “Where is she?”

Dongli, understanding without words, pondered for a moment. Although she didn’t fully grasp the intricacies between Zhong Michu and Gu Fuyou, she believed they needed to resolve their issues themselves. Deciding firmly, she said warmly, “She’s at the mountain tomb. Follow me.”

Seven hundred years ago, the main peak of Jingdu Mountain was destroyed by the order of the Ji Zhaoling. Xuan Miao Sect relocated to the eastern side of the mountain and rebuilt there. The collapse of the original main peak, over a hundred years, transformed into a large lake. The edges, where huge rocks had fractured and piled up, were eroded by wind, sand, and rain, forming a cliff that stood on the east side of the lake.

The pale rocks of the cliff, etched with countless thumb-wide fissures, bore silent witness to the destruction of the Xuan Miao Sect hundred of years ago. Arrayed along the cliff were many slender stone steles, their simplicity a stark contrast to the elaborate ones often seen. These steles, unadorned except for the names and positions of the deceased, served as a somber commemoration. With the destruction of the original ancestral hall, this cliffside had transformed into the new ancestral hall of Xuan Miao Sect, holding the memories and honoring the past.

As Qing Jun approached, her eyes were drawn to a figure in white, emerging like a specter amidst the hazy rain and mist, kneeling solemnly between two stone steles. The rain, cascading down, had cleansed the steles, lending them a renewed purity. At the base of each stele, a candle plant flourished, its green leaves and vividly red fruits glistening under the rain’s touch. The figure sat motionless, her sleeves billowing slightly in the wind, melding seamlessly with the serene and melancholic ambiance of the scene.

Qing Jun’s footsteps were silent as she approached the person from behind, leaning forward, lowering her head to look at her, and called out, “Little White Dragon.”

Zhong Michu opened her eyes and looked up. Wet from the rain, her appearance was even more pristine: her skin was paler, her lips redder, and her golden eyes, like they had been washed clean by the rain, were crystal clear.

For a moment, as her eyes widened in surprise, joy, and pain, she thought she was looking at Gu Fuyou. But a moment later, her gaze dimmed as she recognized Qing Jun.

Zhong Michu slowly bowed her head.

Qing Yun, with one hand on Zhong Michu’s shoulder, leaned in close and playfully said, “I thought you were drowning your sorrows in drink, lost in a dreamlike state, but it turns out you’re up here on the cliff, catching the wind.”

Qing Jun teased, “What, not happy to see it’s not her?”

Zhong Michu stood up, softly saying, “Qing Jun, let’s not disturb this place.”

Zhong Michu gestured to the side. Qing Jun saw the two stone steles, one inscribed with the name of the 24th generation head, Ji Zhaoling, and the other, the third elder, Yunran. Qing Jun apologized with a smile, “Ah, I’ve disturbed the peace of the departed, my apologies.”

The two left the mountain tomb. Outside, Dongli, Yi’er, and the others were waiting. Upon seeing Zhong Michu, Yi’er, filled with a sense of grievance, ran over and threw herself into her arms, crying out, “Mother.”

Zhong Michu patted her back gently. Yi’er released her embrace.

Pointing to the mountain tomb, Zhong Michu said, “Yi’er, this is where your grandmother, my master, and other respected elders rest. Pay your respects to them.”

Yi’er, hearing they were her grandmother and great master, obediently said, “I want to go in and kowtow to them.”

Zhong Michu shook her head gently, whispering, “She didn’t like the Dragon Clan, let’s just do it here.”

Yi’er had heard some rumors, so she didn’t press further, simply nodding obediently and bowing in the direction of the mountain tomb.

Zhong Michu led the group back to the Gushen Peak.

While everyone rested in the guest rooms, Zhong Michu and Qing Jun went to the study.

Due to the rainy weather, the air was damp, and everything in the room felt moist and sticky. Zhong Michu waved her hand, drawing the moisture in the room towards her palm. At the same time, she asked, “How did you wake up again?”

Qing Jun, smiling, stared at her and said as she entered the room, noting Zhong Michu’s somewhat pale face, “You didn’t want to see me, did you?”

“…”

Qing Jun sat down on the cushion in front of the desk, lazily looking at Zhong Michu “She’s been having nightmares, tormented by inner demons, and is very fragile. For me to come out, it was as easy as turning over my hand.”

As Zhong Michu was preparing tea by the side, she finally asked after a long pause, “How is she…?”

“Very poorly,” Qing Jun said, “She’s almost turned this body of mine into a madwoman.”

Zhong Michu poured the tea and placed a cup next to Qing Jun.

Qing Jun, resting her cheek in her hand, asked, “Don’t you have anything to ask me?”

“Why are you here?” Zhong Michu inquired.

Laughing softly, Qing Jun propped herself up with one hand, leaned across the desk with the other hand, cupping Zhong Michu’s chin, “Little White Dragon, if I hadn’t come, who knows what might have happened the next time you saw her. You might have met a lunatic, and then it wouldn’t just be a danger to others; she might have even turned on you.”

“Don’t you think you should thank me, your ancestor?” Qing Jun’s eyes were mischievous, her hand playfully stroking Zhong Michu’s chin.

Zhong Michu quickly grabbed Qing Jun’s wrist, their eyes locked, and they were just inches apart.

The door to the study was left open, with only a bamboo curtain partially lowered. Scholar Zhai and Yi’er came over, feeling hungry and wanting to ask Zhong Michu for some food. They were also worried that the two might start arguing again. But as they peeked in, they were surprised to find the pair in such an intimate position.

Both Zhong Michu and Qing Jun turned their gaze towards the door when they heard the noise.

Scholar Zhai quickly opened her fan to shield her face and said, “Sorry to disturb.” She then quickly pulled Yi’er away, and they hurried off.

Zhong Michu gently let go of Qing Jun’s wrist, and she smoothly returned to her seat. With a graceful cover of her mouth, Qing Jun let out a yawn. Her eyes drifted towards the exquisite jade zither positioned beneath her, taking in the sight of her neatly arranged desk. In the corner, a green porcelain vase cradled a bouquet of flowers, and a small collection of books was neatly arranged on the desk’s surface.

Qing Jun picked up the book on top, titled “New Interpretations of Array Formations.” flipped through a few pages, and upon seeing the handwriting on the margin, laughed, “Who wrote this? Looks like chicken scratch.”

Zhong Michu remained silent, prompting Qing Jun to tease, “Did that girl write this?”

Zhong Michu’s face reddened slightly, showing hints of weariness.

Qing Jun shook her head, “Little White Dragon, tell me, aren’t you being foolish? You’re the last person who should be advising her about the Zuo family’s matter. Yet, you insisted on getting involved, a thankless task that only brought trouble upon yourself.” Leaning her face on her hand, she looked up at Zhong Michu with a smile, “Did her words sting your heart? Does it hurt?”

Zhong Michu replied, “If I can’t persuade her, who else can?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Qing Jun said, placing her hand over her eyes, her voice heavy as if she had just awoken from deep sleep. “Then be more patient, prepare yourself for more hurt, and have a proper talk with her.”

“Qing Jun?” Zhong Michu’s expression shifted slightly.

Suddenly, Qing Jun slumped forward onto the desk. Zhong Michu, without thinking, instinctively stretched out her hand, cushioning Qing Jun’s forehead.

It seemed as if Qing Yun had fallen asleep on the desk, her forehead resting against the palm of Zhong Michu’s hand.

Zhong Michu’s breathing tightened, guessing what had happened. Her heart beat faster, not yet prepared to face her.

Just as she was about to withdraw her hand, there was movement.

Gu Fuyou’s eyes opened. She could sense that she had awakened from a dream, but was confused about her current state. She had clearly been half-lying on the bed; how was she now sitting up? Doubting whether she was truly awake, she blinked, raised her head, and found herself looking into a pair of golden eyes.

Both sets of eyes mirrored the same astonishment.

Gu Fuyou confirmed her suspicions. The person she had been looking for, who seemed to have disappeared, was now right in front of her. The entirely different surroundings confirmed that this was indeed a dream.

Gu Fuyou, holding back a surge of emotion – a mix of the shame, anger, regret, and tenderness she had felt that day – felt it all transforming into a murky energy. Combined with the loneliness of waking from her first dream to find Zhong Michu not by her side, as if she should always be there, all these feelings pointed sharply towards Zhong Michu, ready to be unleashed.

Since it was a dream, her own domain, it didn’t matter what she did.

She barely had to think before deciding to vent her emotions.

With lightning speed, she grabbed Zhong Michu’s withdrawing hand and pulled her towards herself, while her other hand smoothly slid up Zhong Michu’s sleeve, exposing her fair, delicate arm.

Gu Fuyou’s eyes were filled with a predatory glint, like an eagle swooping on its prey, and she bit down hard on that arm.

She bit down with real ferocity, not holding back in the slightest. She wanted to release all the resentment she held within her heart. It seemed as if even biting every inch of Zhong Michu’s body wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her.

As she continued biting, she suddenly realized that the soft texture in her mouth had become somewhat uncomfortable to her teeth.

As Gu Fuyou pulled her closer, Zhong Michu leaned forward, using one hand to brace herself against a pile of books to steady her body. She looked down at Gu Fuyou, unprepared for this unexpected encounter, still mulling over what to say to her. Yet, as she gazed intently at Gu Fuyou, she unconsciously blurted out, “Are you hungry again?”

Gu Fuyou stiffened and released her bite. She saw silver-white scales on the small arm glistening with her saliva.

“…”

Gu Fuyou then raised her head, asking tentatively, “Zhong Michu?”