Ji Huan planned to check when the last batch of spices could be harvested, but when she reached Nanshan, she froze.
The setting sun cast a lingering, orange-yellow glow on the ancient tree that stood on the low slope opposite her.
Beneath the tree, a man in a green robe stood tall, a faint smile on his face as he watched her.
"You're here."
It was a simple greeting, as if they had just seen each other yesterday.
"Yes, but how...?" Ji Huan gestured at their surroundings.
Few people came this way, aside from the families who had cleared the land. And even those who had land here had already finished their harvesting and planting for the season, so no one would come by without a reason.
After all, a little farther west was the burial mound, a place the villagers were quite superstitious about.
Song Jing raised a hand, showing her the book scroll he was holding. "It's quiet here. A good place to read for a while."
Ji Huan breathed a sigh of relief.
