We strolled around the market square all afternoon, browsing the stalls and sampling the countless offers of festive food. I satisfied my cravings for lamb skewers and indulged myself in the delicious flower cakes made from fresh peonies and roses, not realizing how fast time passed until the sun had already dipped below the horizon.
When the first star started to twinkle in the sky, we made our way to the hills hugging the eastern outskirts—the girl from earlier had mentioned fireworks in the evening, and Bai Ye suggested that we might get a better view from above the crowds.
He was so right, I thought as we sat down on a clearing facing the center of town. Lanterns lit up the curving roads below us like golden dragons, coiling sluggishly into peaceful somber at our feet. Steam and smoke from the food stalls rose like glowing puffs of clouds. The din of the throng was a distant murmur, mixed into the lulling songs of crickets and the last cicadas of the year.
I leaned my head against his shoulder. This serenity couldn't be more different from the liveliness of the day, but I loved them both. I closed my eyes and let his familiar scent engulf me, along with the blissful feeling of freedom. "I wish today would never end," I said wistfully.
He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand—we hadn't let go of our locked fingers all afternoon. "I haven't seen you so happy and carefree for a long time," he said softly. His breath tickled my forehead. "Do you miss a commoner's life? Mount Hua is quiet and strict in rules … In a cultivator's world, things can never be the same as they are here."
I chuckled. "It's not because of—"
It's not because of the rules, I wanted to say. I held no grudges against a simple and disciplined life, and it wasn't the novelty of festivities that brought me so much joy today. But before the words left my mouth, I remembered that the rules had forced me to keep my feelings for him hidden for all these years. The rest of the sentence silenced in my throat. We would never be able to live at Mount Hua the same way we could as a pair of ordinary lovers among commoners.
"I didn't ask for your opinion when I brought you to Mount Hua," he said, seeing my hesitation. His voice had a solemn edge. "I should've thought of it. If you would rather choose a different path in life … it's not too late to change."
I straightened to look at him. What he suggested was audacious to say the least—every cultivator swore their dedication to the path they took, and it would be considered a betrayal to forgo one's sect. "I'm content with everything I have right now," I said.
"Content is not enough, Qing-er. You deserve to live a life with no regrets."
A light breeze rustled the hilltop, stirring the loose strands of his hair. I couldn't quite make out his expression in the dim evening light when he added, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But know that you owe Mount Hua no loyalty, and neither do I. If you ever decide to leave …"
I waited for the rest of his words, but they didn't come. He trailed off and gazed into the distance.
My heart pounded against my chest. If I ever decided to leave, would he come with me? Was this an unsaid promise that we could live the rest of our lives together as an ordinary couple, unhidden from everyone else like the way it was today?
I shook the thought out of my head. As one of the strongest and most revered immortals at Mount Hua, Bai Ye had too much to lose and too much to risk if he broke his oath. No man would sacrifice so much for a mere lover. Even if he did, my remaining lifespan would be too short compared to his. It wouldn't be fair.
"I like Mount Hua," I said, "and I still have a chance of ascension, right? I want to live longer." I let my hand cup his cheek and turned him to face me. "I want to stay and improve so I can live longer together with you. A mortal's lifetime is not enough."
The look in his eyes wavered, unfathomable in the darkness. Then he smiled. "You don't sound too content after all. If you ask me, a mortal's lifetime with you is worth more than my past five hundred years, and I will be grateful to have it."
He leaned in, and our lips met in a soft brushing just like the way it was on the flower bridge. I felt my heart race. After all the fire and madness we shared, it was this raw emotion and suppressed desire that reminded me of my deepest longings and rekindled all my hidden feelings.
"Then call me greedy," I whispered. "I want another five hundred years with you … another five hundred years where we can spend every day like this, where I can see the world with you, taste the pleasures of life with you, wield my sword by your side, and let everyone know that I'm not just your disciple, and you're not just my master. I want all of it … and more."
He didn't speak at first. Only the rustles of leaves and distant chirps of crickets drifted on the wind. When I thought he wasn't going to respond, he said, "I wish I could put it to words, Qing-er, how glad I am to hear you say so."
He kissed me again, a slow dance of tongues with a taste of unspoken yearnings. His lips grazed down my cheek, trailing along my neck, and I tilted my head back, letting the moist softness dip into the hollow of my throat.
I tugged on his sash, and he pulled my ribbons loose.
The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel