Lei Xiuyuan pulled up a chair and sat beside her, adopting the posture of a tutor but without the demeanor. He tapped the book in front of him and instructed, “Write each of the characters I’ve circled in red ten times.” With that, he began fiddling with the teacup in his hand, keeping his distance from her.
…Was this how he intended to teach? Li Fei felt a twinge of disappointment. She had hoped for something more intimate.
Opening the thin book, she found several simple-looking characters circled in red on each page. Flipping through, she suddenly realized the red marks weren’t freshly made, yet the vermilion ink wasn’t old either—they must have been marked just days ago. Had he planned to teach her characters all along?
Li Fei couldn’t suppress a smile as she earnestly began writing the characters with a charcoal pencil. Outside, the rain pattered softly, the silk-papered window damp with moisture, while the tea in Lei Xiuyuan’s cup wafted a delicate fragrance—this was perfect. She could be near him again, listen to his steady breathing, and feel their togetherness.
“Xiu Yuan, this book has illustrations. Is this… a fish or a person?”
She pointed to a blurry image in the book. Unlike the refined illustrations in Central Land texts, this one was crudely and exaggeratedly drawn—hardly deserving to be called a picture.
Lei Xiuyuan propped his chin on his hand and glanced over. “That’s a Merman. Human upper body, fish lower body. Found in the southern seas.”
Li Fei’s interest was piqued. “Do such strange creatures really exist? Have you seen one?”
He shook his head. “They’re extremely rare. Even here, they’re only spoken of in legends. It’s said they enjoy eating humans and often lure sailors with their songs.”
Noticing how his tone brightened when discussing such topics—even dropping the convoluted Overseas Language—Li Fei couldn’t resist coaxing him to say more. “I heard there’s a place overseas called Fire Hating Island, where the people…”
“Have skin as black as charcoal and can breathe fire,” Lei Xiuyuan quickly interjected. “It’s located far to the west. I haven’t had the chance to visit yet.”
“Oh, and there’s also a flower called the Twelfth Life…”
“The Twelfth Life Flower is even rarer. It’s said to bloom only in winter, so it should be in season now.”
At first, Li Fei deliberately steered the conversation toward fascinating overseas tales, but soon it became Lei Xiuyuan’s solo narration—spanning from south to north, recounting both witnessed and unheard-of overseas sights and legends in an endless stream. She rarely saw this side of him. In the past, he had been indifferent to everything except magical combat, as if nothing in the world could spark his interest. But now, his room was filled with books, even potted flowers rumored to exist only in myths.
Once, she had asked him what he liked, and back then, Lei Xiuyuan couldn’t answer. Now, his gleaming eyes and unconscious gestures honestly told her—he had found things he loved.
“You know, you’re quite like my Master,” Li Fei said slowly as she wrote, smiling. “Both of you love exploring the unknown—anecdotes, legends, rooms overflowing with books.”
Lei Xiuyuan remained stubborn. “It’s just about understanding the world we live in. Not a matter of liking or disliking.”
Li Fei laughed. “If you like it, just admit it. What’s there to be shy about? You were like this before—still haven’t changed?”Lei Xiuyuan suddenly fell silent for a moment before speaking softly, "What was I like before? I mean, back in the Central Land."
Li Fei smiled and studied him for a while before waving the paper filled with writing in her hand. "That's a long story. I'll tell you a little each day from now on, and you'll teach me characters every day. Fair enough? It's finished—take a look."
He didn't react coldly to her little trick. Taking the paper, he noticed her right hand was smeared black and dirty. His brows immediately furrowed. "How did writing get your whole hand dirty?"
Li Fei shrugged. "That's how charcoal sticks are. I didn't have ink or brushes with me."
Right—she had come overseas alone, spending months sleeping in the mountains with irregular meals. Even the charcoal stick had been secretly scavenged from villagers' trash. Several times when he left the island at night to wander, he would pass by Still Mountain and see her sleeping figure on a tree branch.
Lei Xiuyuan paused, then stood up to wet a cloth and toss it to her. "Clean your hands. I'll grind the ink."
The inkstone and fragrant ink certainly weren't products of Juying Island either. Li Fei absentmindedly wiped her hands, her gaze fixed on his ink-grinding motions. Even if someone lost their memories, some instincts remained unchanged. Lei Xiuyuan still ground ink the same way as before—rolling up his sleeve three times first, supporting the right sleeve with his left hand, looking particularly refined.
Watching him, she laughed. "You really do look like a schoolteacher."
Lei Xiuyuan neither confirmed nor denied it. Once the ink was ready, he saw she had only managed to clean one finger after all that wiping. His frown deepened as he snatched the cloth back. "Do you think you're still a child who can't even wipe her hands properly?"
He grabbed her hand without gentleness, scrubbing ruthlessly until her skin turned red. The girl across from him stayed silent, letting him rub her fingers. For some reason, his movements gradually softened.
Her hand was so soft it seemed boneless. At first, holding it felt ordinary, but after a while, his thoughts began to wander inexplicably. She wasn't the kind of stunning woman who made people fantasize at first glance. Pretty, yes—but as the villagers defined her, she was either the Mountain God Goddess or the Mountain Spirit girl, carrying an ethereal air, not the grounded beauty of ordinary people.
Yet suddenly, he wanted to embrace her—an instinct he couldn't explain at all.
Lei Xiuyuan quickly finished wiping her fingers and let go just as fast. The ink was ready, the brush prepared, the paper laid out—he should start properly teaching characters now. But Li Fei remained silent. When he glanced up, he saw her eyes brimming with tears, red-rimmed.
"...What's wrong?" Lei Xiuyuan panicked slightly—more than when he first woke up with no memories. For a moment, he felt utterly at a loss.
Li Fei dabbed her tears with her sleeve, her lashes damp, yet she smiled faintly. "It's nothing. What you just said reminded me of some things from before."Often when she did something messy or chaotic, Lei Xiuyuan would say to her with a mix of helplessness and teasing, "Do you think you're still ten years old?" Hearing him speak in the same tone now filled her with endless emotion. She hadn’t lost him—that was what mattered. It was fine if she couldn’t remember everything. She would make sure to say all the sweetest words in the world to him, never again letting him feel confused or troubled for no reason.
"We’ve known each other since we were little," Li Fei switched to writing with a brush. "Later, we joined the same sect. I’ve always liked you—so much. Out of everyone in this world, I like you the most."
After saying this, she smiled again at the stunned Lei Xiuyuan. "I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow. For today, just teach me how to read."
By nightfall, the rain had stopped. The villagers were shocked to discover that the Mountain Spirit girl, who hadn’t been seen in the village all day, had actually emerged from the Divine Envoy’s courtyard—and the Divine Envoy had even personally escorted her out with great care!
How had their relationship suddenly become so close? When had this happened?!
"You can stay in the village. We can arrange an empty house for you," Lei Xiuyuan said, watching the Crystal Bead String swaying in her hair. It reminded him of the large leaf she had held up that morning, the glistening droplets of water dripping from its tip. A beautiful young girl wandering alone in the mountains—no wonder others mistook her for a Mountain Spirit.
Li Fei shook her head. "No need to trouble them. The Spiritual energy on Still Mountain is quite abundant, and I’m comfortable there. I’ll take my leave now. Tomorrow, I’ll trouble you again to teach me how to read."
With that, she left without hesitation. The Horn of the Rhinoceros carried her up to Still Mountain in the blink of an eye. Tonight, the Mountain Spirit would once again sleep beneath the trees.
The villagers, both delighted and slightly fearful, gathered outside Lei Xiuyuan’s courtyard. A few bold ones joked, "We waited all day without seeing the Mountain Spirit girl—turns out she was with the Divine Envoy! But… why did she leave again?"
Lei Xiuyuan replied, "Since she is the Mountain Spirit, she naturally belongs in the mountains."
A few of the village women, who had held back for days, couldn’t contain their urgency any longer. "That Mountain Spirit girl clearly adores you, Divine Envoy! Why didn’t you keep her? It’s heartbreaking to see her running back and forth like this every day! Does the Divine Envoy truly not understand tenderness?"
They had noticed long ago that this Divine Envoy, though young in appearance, was quite peculiar. At first, they had sent him the village’s most beautiful young women, but the moment they were delivered, they were immediately sent back home. After this happened too many times, the Divine Envoy had sternly warned, "If it happens even once more, I will leave this place and withdraw my protection." The villagers were so frightened that no one dared bring it up again.
Here was a fine man—handsome, powerful—yet utterly oblivious to romance. It was truly exasperating.
Lei Xiuyuan merely smiled faintly and did not respond to the women’s questions. No one dared to press further, so they could only watch respectfully as he entered his courtyard and closed the gate.
In a corner of the courtyard lay the large leaf Li Fei had left behind that morning. Perhaps infused with the Spiritual energy from her presence, the leaf showed no signs of withering or yellowing—instead, it had grown even more vibrant and lush. The rainwater that had yet to dry still rolled down its tip, drop by drop.Lei Xiuyuan plucked a leaf and turned to gaze at the darkened Still Mountain, wondering where the white-clad Mountain Spirit might be resting among the trees tonight. He tore off a piece of the leaf and placed it against his lips, blowing lightly to produce a few discordant notes. Despite his usual cleverness, he couldn't master this simple skill—even village children could play complete melodies, while his attempts only yielded harsh, grating sounds.
Infused with spiritual energy, these rasping, tearing notes carried far into the distance. After a moment, an equally tearing leaf-whistling response came from Still Mountain—apparently she couldn't play either.
Under the night sky, the cacophony of terrible leaf-whistling rose and fell between them. Neither could explain the meaning behind this behavior, yet they found inexplicable joy in it. The villagers, however, suffered through sleepless hours of torment.
By dawn, the tearful villagers had silently resolved: someone must teach these two how to properly play leaves, starting tomorrow.
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