Moonlit Reunion

Though he appeared to be a rather cold and rigid man, his lips were unexpectedly soft when kissed. Wu Zhen released Mei Zhuyu and noticed he still looked dazed, his lips moving slightly as if murmuring something.

She leaned in closer and caught fragments of his words: "Constantly respond... stillness... be still..."

What? Wu Zhen puzzled over it for a moment before suddenly realizing—her little husband seemed to be reciting the Scripture of Clarity and Stillness ... Being suddenly kissed by a woman shouldn’t elicit a reaction like reciting scriptures, right? If word got out, people might laugh themselves to death.

Wu Zhen found it absurdly amusing and couldn’t help but laugh aloud. Seeing her little husband still frozen in the same posture—head bowed, back slightly bent from when she had pulled him down—she patted his chest teasingly. "Husband, snap out of it."

Then, with that pat, she accidentally knocked over the poor young man who had just suffered her bold advances and subsequent mockery. He tumbled into the flower bushes, sending a flurry of pink petals scattering into the air.

The fall finally jolted Mei Zhuyu back to his senses. Propping himself up halfway, he carefully lifted the flower branches that had fallen onto him. Suddenly, his vision darkened—Wu Zhen had crouched down in front of him, gazing at him with an unreadable expression before asking softly, "Husband, would you mind moving our wedding date forward?"

An appreciation for beauty was universal. Wu Zhen enjoyed spending time with pretty ladies and handsome gentlemen—it was a delight to the eyes. But she had never considered herself someone driven by lust, because beautiful people, like beautiful flowers, were meant to be admired. She had never harbored any improper thoughts about them. Yet, at that moment, seeing her little husband sprawled in the flowers, lips pressed together as he sat up, his neck flushed red—looking disheveled yet silently enduring—she suddenly felt the urge to pounce on him.

This was the first time she had ever felt this way. Strangely enough, her little husband was dull—quiet, unsociable, and not particularly handsome—so why did he attract her more than those dashing young men?

Mei Zhuyu didn’t understand why she had suddenly circled back to this topic and was momentarily at a loss, murmuring in confusion, "...Forward?"

Wu Zhen: "Ah, because I figured a man who starts reciting the Scripture of Clarity and Stillness after being kissed probably wouldn’t approve of any intimacy before marriage."

Mei Zhuyu: "..." Had he really been reciting scriptures just now?

Wu Zhen: "Or is it that after seeing my behavior today, you find it unacceptable and don’t want to marry me anymore?"

Mei Zhuyu’s chest rose and fell sharply before he immediately replied, "No, I will marry you. There’s nothing wrong with you—it’s me who’s out of place." Having lived in a Taoist temple for so long, he was inevitably different from ordinary people, let alone knowing how to interact with women. If there was any problem between them, it likely stemmed from him. Reflecting on his earlier flustered reaction, he wondered if he had been too reserved. But if he were to act otherwise... he simply couldn’t.

Wu Zhen fell silent, quietly observing her little husband—his tone firm and resolute, yet his expression slightly uneasy. A blood-red azalea had landed on his chest, matching the lingering flush on his ears. Suddenly, Wu Zhen reached out, plucking the flower with one hand while pulling Mei Zhuyu up from the flowerbed with the other.

As they walked side by side again, Wu Zhen toyed with the blood-red azalea in her hand, lost in thought, before finally popping it into her mouth and eating it.These azalea flowers are edible, with a sweet and sour taste. When the flowers bloomed in abundance on the front hills earlier, nearby farmers would gather large bundles to sell in the city. Many households, restaurants, and shops would use these flowers to make pastries and other delicacies.

As Wu Zhen was thinking this, she suddenly felt a tight grip on her hand. Turning her head, she saw Mei Zhuyu holding her wrist.

"As long as you wish, you can do anything," Mei Zhuyu said. It seemed he had been mustering the courage to say this for a long time, his tone solemn and earnest.

Wu Zhen stumbled slightly, nearly losing her balance.

What’s going on? Could it be that as I’ve grown older, my composure has weakened? Wu Zhen wondered.

Mei Zhuyu frowned and stepped forward, supporting her with one hand while bending down to examine her foot. "Did you twist your ankle?"

Indeed, she had, though it wasn’t serious—just a bit painful. Wu Zhen paid no mind to such minor matters, but seeing Mei Zhuyu’s concern, she smiled and took the opportunity to say, "Yes, I did. How about carrying me on your back?"

After saying it, she doubted whether this delicate young man had the strength to do so. As it turned out, he did. Without hesitation, Mei Zhuyu hoisted her onto his back.

Wu Zhen relaxed comfortably against his back, surprised to find it broad and sturdy, his arms strong as they held her. Though he appeared slender, he carried her—no lightweight—along the narrow mountain path without even panting. Was he really that strong, or was she not as heavy as she thought?

After the narrow path, the trail widened slightly, and a large rock stood by the roadside. Mei Zhuyu stopped in front of it and set Wu Zhen down, then knelt before her and lifted her injured foot.

Wu Zhen was about to say it was fine when a sharp, sudden pain shot through her ankle, nearly making her cry out. She barely managed to suppress it. Then Mei Zhuyu lowered her leg. "There, it’s fixed."

Truthfully, Wu Zhen hadn’t felt much pain from the initial twist, but after Mei Zhuyu’s adjustment, it really hurt. She rubbed her leg, suspecting it might bruise. It seemed the young man’s strength was indeed formidable.

Breaking into a cold sweat, Wu Zhen remarked, "You’re quite skilled at this."

Mei Zhuyu, oblivious, answered earnestly, "I often twisted my ankle as a child. After treating it so many times, I got used to it."

Wu Zhen raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So you were a mischievous child, always running around and getting hurt?"

Mei Zhuyu opened his mouth but said nothing, silently accepting the assumption. In truth, as a child, he had been sent to a Taoist temple, where he saw his parents only once a year. The rest of the time, he spent in rigorous training. Though his master and senior brothers cared for him, their instruction was strict. When he was young and learning to channel qi for leaps, he often failed and fell from the hundreds of stone stakes his master had set up, frequently twisting his ankles until they swelled. Over time, he learned to treat his own injuries—and eventually mastered the art of leaping.

Later, when his junior disciples began their own training, he would wait nearby, ready to help whenever one got hurt. They often cried out in pain under his ministrations—Mei Zhuyu never understood why, since it didn’t hurt that much. Perhaps they were just spoiled. As for himself, the word "mischievous" had never applied to him.These were matters Mei Zhuyu was unwilling to discuss with Wu Zhen. The world he interacted with was one invisible to ordinary people, and he didn't want his beloved to become entangled with those dangerous things because of him.

Wu Zhen sat on a rock, trying to imagine a mischievous young Mei Zhuyu, but found she couldn't quite picture it. Giving up, she placed her hands on his shoulders and naturally leaned back against his broad back.

"My feet hurt. Would you mind carrying me down the mountain?"

"Of course." Such a small request was naturally something Mei Zhuyu would agree to.

Wu Zhen rested her chin on his shoulder, occasionally asking, "Are you really not tired?"

Mei Zhuyu shook his head. "Not at all."

A butterfly fluttered past them. Suddenly, Wu Zhen leaned back and snatched it out of the air, pinching its wings between her fingers. Despite her sudden movement, Mei Zhuyu's steps remained steady, only turning his head to give her a questioning look.

Wu Zhen held the yellow butterfly up for him to see. When he turned away again, she placed it atop his head. Under the oppressive might of the Cat Official, the butterfly had no choice but to obediently perch there, trembling slightly as an unsteady ornament against the plain black gauze. In the end, the Cat Official found its colors too dull and unappealing, so she mercifully waved her hand to let it fly away.

The scenery along Dujuan Mountain was all too familiar, so Wu Zhen soon turned her attention back to the young man. Earlier, he had fallen into a flowerbed, and now a few petals clung to his clothes, while loose strands of hair escaped his headscarf, curling against his neck. The dark locks clung to his skin, damp with sweat.

Wu Zhen glanced up at the sky. The weather was clear and bright, the sun blazing down like fire. The man carrying her was drenched in sweat. Watching him, she couldn't resist blowing a soft breath against his damp neck—then watched as a flush spread from beneath his collar all the way to the back of his ears.

Propping her chin in her hand, Wu Zhen waited for the redness to fade before blowing again. After several rounds of this, Mei Zhuyu, unable to bear the teasing, tilted his head slightly away, prompting a soft laugh from her.

The sun was scorching, the heat intense, but Mei Zhuyu wasn't sweating just because of the weather—it was the person on his back. She was pressed too close, her soft form leaning entirely against him, making him tense. As he focused on the path ahead, his thoughts wandered chaastically. Many people said Wu Zhen was more like a man, but when she curled up quietly like this, she was softer than anything else, like a delicate, weightless flower.

It made his heart race.

Before they reached the foot of the mountain, they spotted a tea vendor carrying buckets on a flat stretch near the stone steps. Most of these women lived nearby, brewing sweet or herbal teas at home before hauling them up the mountain to sell to thirsty travelers enjoying the scenery.

But this woman was different—she was a demon, one registered in the ledgers of the East and West Demon Markets. Demons from the markets often lived among ordinary people during the day, blending into the city. The idler at the street corner, the woman washing vegetables by the canal, the children running through the streets, even the exotic dancers with unusual hair and eye colors in foreign merchant caravans—any of them could be demons.As long as they didn’t cause trouble or harm people, Wu Zhen allowed them to live ordinary lives. Wu Zhen could sense the mark of the Demon Market on the woman’s aura, so she paid it no mind. The sturdy, plain-looking woman, being a member of the Demon Market, naturally recognized the Cat Official. When they crossed paths on the road, she grew slightly nervous, quickly wiped her hands, and served two bowls of sweet tea infused with dried red dates, osmanthus, and orange peel.

“It’s hot out—please have some sweet tea to cool off, Madam and Sir.”

Mei Zhuyu could tell the tea-selling woman was a transformed ox demon. Normally, he wouldn’t have paid her any attention, but her overly eager demeanor made him wary. Recalling past experiences, his instincts told him something was off. With Wu Zhen by his side, he naturally had to be cautious. So he thanked her, took one bowl, and sipped it first. After confirming the tea was safe, he swapped his bowl with the untouched one in Wu Zhen’s hand.

“This one is sweeter—here, have it.”

Wu Zhen accepted the exchange, thinking to herself how considerate her little husband was.

Mei Zhuyu took another sip from the swapped bowl. Hmm, no issues—seemed he’d been overthinking it.

Meanwhile, the ox demon woman fidgeted nearby: I heard the Cat Official is getting a husband—must be this gentleman. They’re so close, it’s enviable. But why does his sharp gaze make me so uneasy?