The Scent of Hay and the Woodcutter's Kindness
On the third morning of her recovery, the air in the Cloud-Mist Valley remained crisp, carrying the earthy scent of morning dew. Ye Nian (Lin Ying) was finally able to move her body with greater ease. She stepped out of the bamboo hut situated on a small hill at the edge of the village, a vantage point high enough to overlook the entire settlement.
Cloud-Mist Village was cradled by a labyrinth of mountains, serving as a natural fortress. Most of the houses were built of wood and thatched with cogon grass, lining the clear stream that cut through the heart of the village.
Emerald-green terraced rice fields stretched along the distant slopes. Small silhouettes of villagers could be seen leading their water buffaloes and carrying plows. It was a picture of innocent, rustic life, entirely detached from the filth and scheming of the capital.
"Why did you come out? Your wound hasn't completely healed; the frost-venom might flare up again.
" Zhao Long's deep voice resonated as his tall, imposing figure emerged from the backwoods, carrying a massive pile of firewood.
Lin Ying froze for a moment as she turned toward the sound. The eyes of the assassin, usually so cold and unfeeling, widened slightly.
The young man before her was completely bare-chested. The gentle sunlight cascaded over his strikingly fair skin, highlighting the chiseled, hard-packed muscles honed by years of relentless labor.
Beads of sweat glistened across his broad chest and perfectly sculpted abdomen, giving him an inexplicably magnetic allure. The scattered scars etched across his physique didn't detract from his looks; rather, they amplified his raw, untamed masculinity and powerful presence.
Lin Ying's heart, usually as calm as a frozen lake, suddenly skipped a beat, fluttering erratically against her ribs. Blood rushed to her face, painting her pale cheeks with an uncontrollable, rosy flush.
She quickly averted her gaze, swallowing hard to mask the sudden fluster and the unfamiliar, nervous excitement of a young woman confronted with such an intoxicating sight.
Yet, from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but steal glances at his steady, commanding movements as he methodically stacked the firewood. Even in the guise of a simple commoner, his sheer, captivating majesty was undeniable.
"I... I am feeling much better. I didn't want to sit idle and be a burden," Lin Ying replied, stepping forward to help sort the smaller branches that her strength allowed.
As she worked, her eyes covertly analyzed the village's layout. There was only one main entrance—an old wooden bridge. If bandits attacked through the main route, the villagers would have no escape route other than fleeing into the deep forest behind Zhao Long's hut, which was backed by a steep cliff.
"This village is far more peaceful than I imagined," she murmured softly.
Zhao Long paused, resting his hand on his axe. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. "There aren't many of us in the valley. As long as we have food to eat, a bed to sleep in, and our families gathered together, it is enough... I chop wood, Auntie Liu cooks, Grandfather dries the herbs. Everyone has their own role."
He met her gaze, his eyes so sincere that Lin Ying's heart gave another treacherous flutter. "That includes you, Ye Nian... Right now, your only role is to heal. As for chopping wood, leave the heavy lifting to men like me."
She watched as he returned to his task with earnest dedication. The sound of the axe biting into wood—Thwack! Thwack!—echoed rhythmically across the mountain slopes. It was the sound of a simple, honest life. Yet, a heavy weight pressed down on Lin Ying's heart. She knew that the village's fragile defenses would instantly turn into a sea of fire if Han Feng's forces ever arrived.
The Jade Hairpin and the Hidden Truth
By late morning, the warm sun bathed the wooden table in front of the hut. Auntie Liu brought out a pot of herbal tea to join Grandfather Zhao and Zhao Long, who were taking a break. Lin Ying, sitting with them, finally voiced the concern lingering in her mind.
"Ah Long... Grandfather... are you not worried about the Black Tiger Bandits?" Lin Ying asked, her tone serious. "Ah Long and I killed quite a few of them the other night. These bandits are notoriously vengeful. I fear that Cloud-Mist Village will be put in jeopardy because of me."
Auntie Liu waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, Lady Ye Nian, don't overthink it! Our village has been hidden for a decade. No bandit has ever dared to venture this deep. Besides... everyone knows how formidable our Ah Long is. That single axe of his can protect the entire village!"
Grandfather Zhao nodded slowly. Though he appeared calm, his clouded eyes flickered with deep thought.
Zhao Long, sipping his tea quietly, glanced at the 'White Jade Pin' resting in the young woman's hair. It was simple, yet remarkably pure and eye-catching.
"That hairpin... it is beautifully crafted. It must be quite valuable, isn't it?" Zhao Long asked with the innocent curiosity of a woodsman. "It doesn't look like something an ordinary traveler would carry."
Lin Ying stiffened for a fraction of a second. Her slender fingers reached up to lightly touch the head of the pin. "It is a precious keepsake my mother gave me before my journey... She told me it represents a sacred vow that I must protect with my life."
Seeing the hairpin clearly for the first time, Grandfather Zhao froze. A sudden spark ignited in his dim eyes. The old man stared at the cloud motifs carved into the white jade, his heart suddenly skipping a beat. 'That cloud pattern... why does it look so familiar? It is as if I saw it long ago...'
He tried to cast his mind back decades, to the days when the Zhao Clan was still in its prime. He caught a blurry vision of his Liege Lord handing an object to a certain woman... but the passage of time had eroded the memory. He couldn't place it, left only with an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
"This hairpin... the cloud motif is truly majestic," Grandfather Zhao murmured, his voice laced with nostalgia. "Keep it safe, Lady Ye Nian. I have a feeling this item carries a history far greater than meets the eye."
Zhao Long looked between his grandfather and Lin Ying. Though curious, he didn't press the matter. "If it is precious to your mother, then I promise no one will ever lay a hand on it... or on you."
Silence blanketed the table. Lin Ying felt the weight of the hairpin grow heavier. She couldn't tell them that the 'mother' waiting for her was trapped in the Grand Secretary's manor... and she certainly couldn't say that the true owner of the hairpin might be the very man sitting across from her.
The Village Market and a Gale of Jealousy
In the afternoon, as the sunlight began to mellow, Zhao Long decided to carry the large pile of wood he had chopped to Physician Chen, planning to sell the surplus at the village market to pay for the herbs. Ye Nian (Lin Ying), growing restless from being cooped up, asked to tag along under the guise of getting fresh air. In truth, she wanted to thoroughly scout the village's escape routes.
"Are you sure you can walk? The path to the market is rugged," Zhao Long asked, adjusting the straps of the firewood on his broad shoulders, his eyes filled with concern.
"I can manage. Besides, it's not my legs that are injured," Lin Ying replied with a rare, faint smile. The young man nodded and led the way, with the young woman following closely behind, mentally mapping the terrain.
When they arrived at the village center—a wide dirt square where locals displayed their produce on wooden stalls—the atmosphere was bustling.
The moment Zhao Long's towering figure appeared, numerous eyes gravitated toward him, especially those of the young maidens who began to whisper.
However, the most aggressive of them all was Ah Chui, the village chief's daughter. Dressed in obnoxiously bright colors, she immediately strutted over, waving her handkerchief.
"Brother Long! Are you delivering wood today? Let me help you carry that!" Ah Chui cooed in a sickly-sweet voice. But as her eyes landed on the strange woman walking behind him, her smiling face twisted with ugly jealousy.
"Oh! And who is this? Don't tell me this is the vixen... I mean, the lady you carried home the other day?"
Lin Ying remained silent. She simply cast a cold, indifferent glance at Ah Chui from head to toe, as if looking at thin air. The sheer dismissal made Ah Chui's blood boil.
"Hey, you! Are you deaf? Answer when you're spoken to! Have you no shame, leeching off a man's house like this? You might have a pretty face, but don't think you can steal Brother Long from me! He has been mine since we were children. You are just some stray beggar taking advantage of his kindness!" Ah Chui shrieked, her tirade drawing a crowd of curious onlookers.
The corners of Lin Ying's lips curled into a microscopic smirk. She spoke in a calm, yet devastatingly even tone. "You claim he has been yours since childhood... yet I see him sweating and carrying heavy burdens all alone. If he is truly yours, why do you stand by and let him suffer such exhaustion? Or is your love only good for flapping your lips?"
"You... how dare you!" Ah Chui trembled with rage, raising her hand to slap the arrogant stranger.
"That is enough, Ah Chui!"
Zhao Long immediately stepped between them, shielding Lin Ying. His gaze was so fierce and cold that Ah Chui froze mid-swing. "Ye Nian is a guest of my grandfather and me. She is injured and requires care. Do not harass my guest. Furthermore... since when did I ever belong to you? Do not spread words that cause misunderstandings."
"Brother Long! You're siding with her?!" Ah Chui stomped her foot in frustration, tears welling in her eyes. "Remember this! That woman cannot be trusted! You better watch your back!"
Ah Chui spun around and ran off crying amidst the whispers of the villagers. Zhao Long let out a long sigh and turned to Lin Ying. "I apologize on Ah Chui's behalf. She is spoiled. Please don't take her words to heart."
Lin Ying watched Ah Chui's retreating figure before looking up at the young man beside her. "I don't hold grudges against petty fools... I am merely surprised that a simple woodcutter like you has such a fanatically devoted admirer."
Zhao Long was at a loss for words. Flustered, he quickly adjusted the firewood on his back and marched toward Physician Chen's stall to hide his rapidly reddening face, leaving Lin Ying to secretly smile for the first time since arriving in the valley.
The Nameless Stances and the Creeping Shadows
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a cool breeze swept through the valley, carrying the scent of hearth fires from the homes. Lin Ying sat on the bamboo cot outside the hut, her eyes fixed on Zhao Long. He was holding a solid wooden staff. Instead of chopping wood, he was moving through a series of strange, intricate forms. His movements were explosive yet flowed like a continuous river; every inhale and exhale synchronized perfectly with his strikes in a breathtaking display.
As a master assassin, Lin Ying immediately recognized that this was no ordinary villager's dance. It was a profound, high-level martial art.
"Your techniques... they are extraordinary. Who taught you, Ah Long?" she asked, genuinely amazed.
Zhao Long paused, resting the staff on his shoulder. "I'm not entirely sure myself. I just remember seeing Grandfather practice these forms when I was a child... As I grew up, I copied him and trained on my own until it became second nature."
He turned to Grandfather Zhao, who was grinding herbs nearby. "You taught me, didn't you, Grandfather? I vaguely remember you doing these moves."
Grandfather Zhao's hand stiffened on the pestle. He replied in a smooth, yet strained voice. "How could I possibly teach you anything, Long'er? I was just an old man stretching my creaky bones. You must be remembering it wrong."
Internally, however, the old man's heart trembled violently. Images of the White Dragon General fighting side-by-side with Zhao Long's father flashed through his mind.
'My Liege... forgive me for failing your final command.' He remembered the dying wish of Zhao Long's father perfectly: "Never let my son touch a blade. Do not let him become a soldier or get involved in the wars. Let him live a peaceful life as a commoner.
" But it seemed the blood of the dragon within Zhao Long's veins cried out for battle, refusing to be suppressed.
The casual conversation faded as the cloak of night fully enveloped the mountain. The air grew entirely too still...
Snap.
The sound of a dry twig breaking echoed from the forest edge behind the hut. Lin Ying shifted instinctively. Though her wound was not fully healed, she instantly detected the 'Killing Intent' radiating from the dark.
Zhao Long sensed it at the exact same moment. He immediately grabbed his staff and his trusty woodcutter's axe, his sharp eyes piercing into the gloom.
The few surviving members of the Black Tiger Bandits, nearly wiped out by Lin Ying days ago, had crept up the mountain seeking vengeance and aiming to reclaim the injured woman. Under the dim moonlight... a group of dark silhouettes burst from the underbrush, charging straight for the bamboo hut!
"They're here," Lin Ying whispered, her voice turning ice-cold.
"I told you..." Zhao Long said, his tone dropping to a freezing register. "...this is my domain."
Without another word, he launched himself forward into the darkness to meet the impending slaughter.