Chapter 56: The Years in the Mountains

Aikesi settled down in the mountain village.

Monika came every day to bring food, never once missing.

At dawn, when the sky was just beginning to lighten and the village still lay wrapped in a thin mist, she arrived with a tray—on it a bowl of steaming mixed-grain porridge and two wild-vegetable cakes. The porridge was made from millet, red beans, and yam, thickened just right, soft and smooth on the tongue. The cakes were mixed with finely chopped dandelion and shepherd's purse, carrying a distinct wild fragrance. When Aikesi first ate them, he thought the flavor bland, but after chewing a few more bites, he tasted the clean bitterness and subtle sweetness of the wild herbs themselves.

"Eat while it's hot." Monika set the tray on the low table beside the bed and pushed open the window, letting in the fresh morning air.

Aikesi propped himself up and took the bowl, sipping a mouthful—then suddenly noticed a faint medicinal scent in the porridge. "What's in this?"

"Baiji and Huangqi, and just a bit of Xuduan," Monika sat beside the table, counting on her fingers. "Baiji stops bleeding and seals wounds, Huangqi tonifies qi and strengthens the exterior, Xuduan mends tendons and bones. I asked Grandpa Desili—he said these herbs are mild and gentle, perfect for your current injuries."

The stewed meat she brought at noon was also carefully prepared. The meat was wild rabbit, cut into small pieces and slow-simmered for two hours until it was tender enough to melt without chewing. Floating in the broth were thin slices of spirit mushrooms—rare fungi growing in the damp, shaded areas of Hou Shan, with extraordinary healing effects on damaged meridians. When Aikesi first ate it, he simply thought it deliciously rich; later he learned that Monika had climbed the mountain before dawn, searching the damp rock faces all morning to gather those mushrooms.

"You don't have to come every day," Aikesi finally said on the third evening. He leaned against the headboard, watching Monika neatly gather the bowls and chopsticks, feeling guilty. "I'm injured, but I'm not completely helpless. You running back and forth every day is too much trouble."

Monika paused her movements, looking up at him seriously. Her eyes were light brown, appearing especially gentle in the dim evening light. "Your injury hasn't healed yet. Damaged meridians aren't trivial—you need care. Besides," she paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips, "no one else in the village has time."

It was true. Though the village had many people, most were occupied with their own duties. Miqin and Xijinsen often went out to train; Haiwode spent his days locked inside studying magic; Desili was rarely seen. Only Monika, besides her own cultivation, helped out in the village every day.

"Then thank you," Aikesi said sincerely, no longer refusing.

Monika smiled slightly, stacking the bowls and chopsticks neatly on the tray, then turned toward the door. At the threshold, she suddenly stopped and glanced back at Aikesi. The last rays of sunset slanted through the window, casting a soft golden glow over her face.

"Your complexion is much better than yesterday," she said softly. "If you keep improving like this, you should be fully healed in another ten or fifteen days."

"Thanks to you," Aikesi replied in the same quiet tone.

Monika's cheeks flushed slightly. She said nothing more, and walked out quickly. Her footsteps faded slowly along the stone path, finally disappearing around the corner at the village entrance.

Days passed like this, one after another, quiet and endless as a mountain stream.

Aikesi's health improved daily. Every time he stepped outside, he almost always saw Monika—sometimes by the stream washing clothes, her long green hair tied back with a wooden hairpin, sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing pale forearms; sometimes in the herb garden weeding, crouched between rows, carefully pulling out weeds tangled among the medicinal plants, her movements gentle as if soothing something precious; sometimes at the village gate playing with children, teaching them to identify wildflowers and herbs, the children chattering around her, and she never found it noisy, smiling warmly as she answered each one.

She was always smiling. When she smiled, her eyes curved into crescents, the corners crinkling with genuine joy. That smile was like mountain sunlight—not blinding, yet warm enough to reach deep into the heart.

Aikesi found himself growing increasingly fond of watching her smile.

Sometimes he stood at a distance, pretending to admire the scenery, but his gaze never left her. He watched her bend to tend the herbs, lift her head to wipe sweat, laugh helplessly as the children teased her. His heartbeat quickened unconsciously, a strange, indescribable feeling stirring in his chest.

This feeling was completely unfamiliar to him.

"What are you daydreaming about?"

Monika's voice suddenly sounded beside his ear, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath.

Aikesi snapped back to reality, realizing he had walked to the edge of the herb garden. Monika crouched before a cluster of blue-purple herbs, holding a small spade, looking up at him. Today she wore a light green cloth robe with simple embroidered flowers at the collar; her long green hair fell over her shoulders, a few strands blown by the wind across her face, making her features seem even more delicate.

"Thinking," Aikesi crouched down to meet her gaze. "What herb is this?"

"Lancao," Monika lowered her head, using the small spade to carefully dig up a plant, her movements so gentle they seemed afraid of disturbing it. "It's highly effective for internal injuries. Your wound isn't fully healed yet—I'm gathering some to keep on hand."

She gently shook the soil off the dug-up Lancao and placed it in the bamboo basket beside her. The basket already held several others, roots intact, leaves vibrant green—clearly gathered with great care.

Watching her focused expression, Aikesi suddenly asked: "Have you always lived here?"

"Mm." Monika nodded, her hands still working. "Since I can remember, I've lived here. Father said it's safe here—outside the world is too dangerous."

"6

"Do you ever want to see the outside world?" Aikesi asked again.

Monika's hands stopped again. She spoke softly: "I did. When I was little, I thought the outside must be wonderful—so many people, tall buildings, bustling markets, all kinds of strange things. I used to beg Uncle Mile to tell me stories about it—he could talk all night without repeating himself."

She placed the dug-up Lancao into the basket and bent to tidy the scattered soil. "But as I grew older, and heard more from Uncle Mile and others about the outside, I realized this place is better."

"Why?"

"Outside is too chaotic," Monika's voice grew quieter. "Today you kill me, tomorrow I kill you. For some treasure, for a patch of land, entire rivers run red with blood. What's the point of all this fighting?" She lifted her gaze past the garden fence, toward the distant rolling green mountains. "Here is better. Everyone is kind. We grow herbs, cultivate, rise with the sun, rest with the moon. Life is comfortable, steady."

Aikesi looked at her, and suddenly felt a pang of sympathy.

"Not everything outside is fighting," he said softly, his voice gentle as if soothing a child. "There are beautiful things too."

Monika looked up, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

"Like the Douwuchang in Didu," Aikesi said, gazing into the distance as if remembering. "A circular arena that holds a hundred thousand people, built entirely of white stone. On fight days, a hundred thousand voices roar together—the sound shakes the whole structure. That kind of fiery passion—you can't imagine it."

He paused, then continued: "And the sunrise over Yunfeng Town. It's a small town built on a mountain peak. At dawn, clouds surge beneath your feet like a white ocean. Then the sun rises from beyond the cloud sea—first a sliver of gold, then slowly swelling into a golden-red sphere, turning the entire cloud sea into gold. That beauty—you forget to breathe."

Before he finished, he felt a warm touch on his arm.

Monika had somehow moved closer, her hands unconsciously gripping the sleeve of his robe. Her eyes shone brightly, her face filled with childlike wonder and longing.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," Aikesi said, looking at her face so near, his heart skipping a beat. "When I'm healed, I'll take you to see them."

The moment the words left his lips, he himself froze. In that instant, a powerful impulse surged within him—he wanted to take her to see those beautiful things, to see her gasp at the cloud-sea sunrise, to see her bathed in moonlight beside Xingchenwuhai.

Monika froze. Her eyes widened, her mouth slightly open, as if turned to stone. After a long moment, she reacted—her pale cheeks flushed visibly, reddening all the way to her earlobes.

"W-Who said I wanted you to take me!" She snatched her hand away from his sleeve, voice flustered and hurried. "I—I never said I wanted to go!"

She lowered her head, frantically gathering the herbs, but accidentally knocked over the bamboo basket—several already-dug Lancao rolled out, smudged with dirt. She panicked further, reaching to pick them up, only to scatter a few more.

Aikesi suppressed a smile and bent to help her. Their fingers brushed—Monika jerked her hand back as if burned, her ears crimson enough to drip blood.

"Be careful," Aikesi said, placing the cleaned Lancao back into the basket, his voice tinged with amusement.

Monika said nothing, head bowed, lashes fluttering, lips pressed into a thin line. She could feel Aikesi's gaze on her, making her heart race as if it might leap from her chest.

That night, Aikesi lay in bed, unable to sleep. Moonlight filtered through the thin curtain, casting silver patches on the floor. The mountain village was silent—so quiet he could hear the distant trickle of the stream, the chirping of insects in the grass.

He closed his eyes, and his mind filled entirely with Monika's image.

Her smiling eyes, curved like crescents. Her long green hair falling as she bent her head, glowing softly in the sunlight. Her adorable blush when teased, ears bright red, lashes fluttering. Her focused profile while gathering herbs, lips slightly pursed, brows gently furrowed.

And her voice when she said, "Who said I wanted you to take me"—flustered, denying what she clearly felt.

"No way," Aikesi murmured to himself, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "I'm—"

He didn't finish, but he already knew.

This mountain village girl, with her porridge and cakes, her Lancao and spirit mushrooms, her crescent eyes and blushing ears, had quietly slipped into his heart.

In the days that followed, Aikesi's injury healed rapidly.

Sometimes he would "accidentally" meet Monika washing clothes by the stream. He never said much—just crouched beside the water, chatting idly with her: about Didu's splendor, the Douwuchang's grandeur, Yunfeng Town's sunrise, the moonlight over Xingchenwuhai. Monika listened intently, occasionally asking questions, her eyes brimming with curiosity.

"Have you really seen such a huge magical beast?" Once, Monika asked him, her eyes wide. She had just finished washing clothes, water still dripping from her hands, and she leaned forward slightly, overcome with surprise.

"I have." Aikesi nodded, gesturing with his hands. "In the Magical Beast Mountain Range, there are Spiked Iron-Shell Dragons as big as small hills, their bodies covered in iron-gray scales; a sweep of their tail can flatten a forest. There are also the Nine-Headed Hydra Kings that breathe fire, their nine heads spewing flames of different colors simultaneously, the heat waves palpable from great distances. And there are the Thunder-Winged Pegasus, faster than lightning, pure white from head to toe, with arcs of electricity coiling around their wings, appearing as a streak of white light slicing across the sky when they fly."

Monika listened, entranced, unconsciously leaning closer. She could smell the faint scent of herbs on him, mixed with the aroma of sunlight and earth.

"Will you leave here later?" she suddenly asked, her voice very soft, as if afraid to startle something.

Aikesi paused, startled. "Why do you ask that?"

Monika lowered her head, her fingers twisting the hem of her clothes, her knuckles turning slightly white from the force. "Your injuries are almost healed. After they are healed—" she paused, her voice even softer, "you will be leaving, right?"

The stream flowed by their feet, making a gurgling sound. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree canopy, casting mottled shadows on the ground. Aikesi fell silent for a moment, then said softly, "Do you want me to leave?"

Monika said nothing. She kept her head down; Aikesi could not see her expression, only that the tips of her exposed ears had turned red again.

A surge of impulse rose within him, an impulse so strong he could not resist it. He reached out and took her hand.

Her hand was small, her fingers slender; a thin layer of calluses covered her palm from years of labor, but it was warm.

Monika's body stiffened, like a startled fawn. But she did not pull away; she only kept her head down, her shoulders trembling slightly.

"I won't leave," Aikesi said softly, his voice so gentle it felt strange even to himself. "At least, not now."

Monika slowly raised her head. Her eyes were red, a thin layer of mist swirling in her sockets, but the tears did not fall. She looked at Aikesi, her lips trembling slightly.

"Really?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Really." Aikesi looked at her earnestly, his gaze firm yet gentle. "Unless you drive me away."

Monika stared at him blankly for several seconds, then suddenly smiled. It was a smile born of tears, carrying a glimmer of moisture, yet more brilliant than any time before. She lightly punched him, the force so light it felt like tickling.

"Who would drive you away?" she muttered, her voice soft and sweet.

The two sat by the stream like that, hand in hand, neither speaking. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting tiny golden spots upon them. The stream flowed by their feet; occasionally a few fallen leaves drifted by, carried slowly away by the current.

In the distant sky, the sun was slowly sinking behind the mountains. Golden afterglow covered half the sky, dyeing the clouds orange-red and gilding the mountain ridges with a golden edge. Smoke from the mountain village rose gently, turning into faint blue ribbons in the sunset.

Monika gently rested her head on Aikesi's shoulder, her long hair brushing against his neck, ticklish. He could smell the faint, pleasant scent of herbs in her hair.

In a stone house in the distance, Desili stood by the window, watching this scene. The old man's face showed no expression, only the corners of his mouth curving slightly upward, revealing a half-smile.

"Young people," he said, shaking his head. He turned and walked back into the room, closing the window as he went.

Outside the window, the sun finally sank completely. Night fell upon the mountain village; stars lit up one by one, as if someone had scattered a handful of crushed diamonds across the black canopy. The two by the stream still sat there, huddled together, gazing at the starry sky.