It took Mu Dishi and Ma Jingguo several days of travel, the landscape slowly transforming from familiar plains into the rugged, majestic peaks of Tianshan. As they finally arrived, the air itself seemed lighter, crisper, and the villagers, with their genuine smiles and warm greetings, offered a stark contrast to the recent turmoil they'd left behind. The two men found their way to the Xingfu Inn, where a cheerful door greeter ushered them to a quiet table. Soon, their order was placed, the promise of a hot meal a welcome comfort.
After a while, the waiter, a young man with a friendly, open face, brought their steaming dishes. Ma Jingguo, unable to contain his curiosity, stopped him. "This is our first time visiting Tianshan," he began, his eyes bright with interest. "Is there any place, any sight, truly worth seeing?"
The waiter, whose name was Wang Niu, beamed. "Oh, there are plenty of things to do here in Tianshan! In three days, it will be a full moon night, and the town will hold a grand wedding ceremony. It's in a small village on the eastern outskirts, about an hour's walk from here. I heard there will be ten couples this year – a truly joyous occasion!"
"A wedding ceremony?" Ma Jingguo repeated, a mischievous glint in his eye as he subtly winked at Mu Dishi. "How does that work?"
Wang Niu nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, it's our town's ancient tradition. People believe that if a couple marries on that specific full moon night, their love will endure, strong and true, until they are very old, their hair like snow."
"It sounds exciting," Ma Jingguo mused, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips, his gaze lingering on Mu Dishi.
"And there's another place," Wang Niu continued, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a more reverent, hushed tone. "There's a secluded temple near the second mountain of the Tianshan sect. It's a bit hidden away. People here believe that if two people who truly love each other hold hands and walk up the three hundred steps to the temple, write their names on a small piece of wood, tie that name tag onto a red string, and then hang it inside the temple… whatever they wish for will come true. And there's another belief, even more powerful: after doing that, if they walk out to the ancient magnolia tree behind the temple, cut a small amount of their hair, tie the strands together, and then bind it to the tree, their love will last forever, just like the eternal magnolia tree."
Ma Jingguo's eyes widened, a flicker of something deep and hopeful igniting within them. "Thank you for all the information, Wang Niu," he said, a genuine warmth in his voice.
"Enjoy your stay," the waiter replied, bowing slightly before departing.
The moment Wang Niu was out of earshot, Ma Jingguo turned to Mu Dishi, his face alight with anticipation, his eyes practically sparkling. "Xiao shushu," he declared, his voice brimming with eagerness, "let's go to that temple tomorrow!"
Mu Dishi, however, merely took a sip of his tea, his expression unreadable, a wall of indifference. "I don't believe any of that," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.
Ma Jingguo's enthusiasm deflated slightly, the light in his eyes dimming. "Why not?" he pressed, a hint of disappointment, almost hurt, in his tone.
Mu Dishi's gaze drifted, distant and cold, lost in a painful memory. "I used to pray to Guanyin every single night for her to protect my family," he said, his voice a low, bitter murmur, raw with an old wound. "And look what happened. My entire family was brutally massacred." The words hung in the air, heavy with a grief that still resonated deep within him, a scar that had never truly healed.
Ma Jingguo's heart ached at the raw pain in Mu Dishi's voice, a pain he understood all too well. He leaned in, his own large, puppy-dog eyes pleading, vulnerable. "Xiao shushu," he begged, his voice soft, almost a whisper, "please… do it for me. I really, really want to go."
A long, silent moment passed, stretched taut with Ma Jingguo's unspoken hope. Finally, Mu Dishi sighed, a sound of profound resignation. "Fine," he said, his voice still cool, a reluctant concession, "but I am not holding your hand walking up those steps."
The next morning, they stood before the mountain. It was a single, slender peak, rising sharply above the surrounding, smaller mountains, its summit just wide enough to cradle a small, ancient worship temple. The lonely old temple stood in quiet solitude, seemingly forgotten by the bustling world below, its weathered wood and faded paint suggesting no caretaker had touched it in decades. Ma Jingguo reached out his right hand, his gaze fixed on Mu Dishi, an unspoken invitation, a silent challenge.
Mu Dishi, however, kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead, his jaw set, a stubborn line. "I've told you yesterday…" he began, his voice firm, a clear refusal.
But Ma Jingguo was quicker, bolder. He seized Mu Dishi's left hand, his fingers intertwining with Mu Dishi's, a triumphant, almost mischievous smile blooming on his face. "Xiao shushu," he said, his voice playful, teasing, "look around you. We are the only two people here."
Mu Dishi stiffened, resisting, a flicker of annoyance, then a faint blush, rising on his cheeks. Yet, despite his struggles, Ma Jingguo's grip was firm, insistent, a gentle force. In the end, Mu Dishi's resistance crumbled, and he found himself, hand in hand with Ma Jingguo, climbing the three hundred steps towards the temple, a faint, almost imperceptible blush deepening on his cheeks.
They finally reached the old temple, its silence profound, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves. Inside, a small, dusty table held a wooden basket overflowing with blank pieces of wood and a humble donation box. Three crude wood cleavers lay beside the basket. Ma Jingguo, without hesitation, dropped ten liang into the donation box, the coins clinking softly, then selected a piece of wood. With a small knife, he carefully, meticulously carved their names onto the stick. His eyes then swept around the temple, taking in the thousands upon thousands of name tags, hanging from every available surface, covering the walls and beams like a strange, wooden tapestry, a testament to countless hopes.
Ma Jingguo looked at the sheer multitude of tags, then turned to Mu Dishi, a slight frown of confusion on his face. "Currently, everywhere is full, right?" he mused. "Where am I going to hang our name tag?"
Mu Dishi took the wooden stick, now adorned with their names and a red string, from Ma Jingguo. With a single, fluid somersault, he launched himself upwards, landing gracefully, impossibly, on one of the ceiling beams. He produced a golden needle, and with a subtle surge of internal energy, expertly nailed the wooden stick to the beam, higher than any other, a silent declaration. Then, with effortless grace, he dropped from the beam, landing handsomely before Ma Jingguo, a faint dust cloud rising around his feet.
"Let's go," Mu Dishi said, his voice calm, already turning.
"Wait," Ma Jingguo protested, a playful pout on his lips. "We haven't seen the magnolia tree yet."
Mu Dishi raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement, almost a challenge, in his cold gaze. "You are going to cut your hair and tie it on the magnolia tree, aren't you?"
"Mm..." Ma Jingguo hummed, already grabbing Mu Dishi's left wrist with his right hand, pulling him gently. The two men walked out to the back of the temple.
In the temple's backyard stood a single, colossal magnolia tree, its ancient branches adorned with thousands of intertwined hairs, like delicate, silken offerings, each a silent wish. Ma Jingguo and Mu Dishi stood beneath its sprawling canopy, and with every passing breeze, magnolia petals swirled and danced across the temple yard, a gentle, fragrant snow.
Ma Jingguo took out his knife and carefully cut a small lock of his own hair. He then looked up at Mu Dishi, his eyes sparkling with a hopeful question. "Xiao shushu," he asked, his voice soft, almost a plea, "can I cut a little bit of your hair?"
Mu Dishi didn't respond with words, but he slowly turned his back to Ma Jingguo, a silent, almost imperceptible invitation, a rare moment of trust. Ma Jingguo smiled, a tender, almost reverent expression on his face, as he reached out and gently clutched the very tip of Mu Dishi's long, dark hair. But as he brought the knife closer, his hand trembled. He hesitated. He couldn't do it. He loved Mu Dishi's hair too much, cherished it like a fragile, precious jade. With a sigh, he sheathed his knife, tucking it back into his sash.
He wrapped his arms around Mu Dishi, pulling him into a gentle hug from behind, and sighed, a soft sound of contentment, of profound affection. "Forget it," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Mu Dishi's head. "I love your hair too much to cut it with my own hand."
Instead, Ma Jingguo untied the hair bracelet from his left wrist, carefully placing it with his own lock of hair. With surprising agility, he climbed to the very top of the ancient magnolia tree, securing their intertwined hairs to a high branch, a secret promise. As he climbed back down, he glanced at Mu Dishi, who stood handsomely beneath the falling magnolia petals, looking like an immortal god stepped right out of a painting, serene and untouchable.
"You tied your own hair?" Mu Dishi asked, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity, a rare crack in his usual composure.
"No," Ma Jingguo replied, a playful grin spreading across his face, "I tied both of our hairs."
"But you didn't cut any of my hair," Mu Dishi pointed out, a slight frown creasing his brow, a hint of confusion.
Ma Jingguo chuckled, a light, airy sound. "I had your hair bracelet! I'll just collect more later and make a new one."
Mu Dishi remained silent, but a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, a rare, soft curve.
"Xiao shushu," Ma Jingguo said, his voice soft, "should we go back? Or do you want to stay longer?"
No sooner had Ma Jingguo finished speaking than the sharp, angry voices of a woman and a man arguing shattered the temple's peaceful quiet. Ma Jingguo's hand shot out, grabbing Mu Dishi's left wrist. The two men moved as one, darting behind a large stone statue, Ma Jingguo's body pressing Mu Dishi against the cold stone, a shield.
"There are two statues," Mu Dishi whispered, his voice muffled by Ma Jingguo's proximity, a hint of exasperation. "You go hide behind the other one."
Ma Jingguo smiled, a flirtatious glint in his eyes despite the danger, his body still firmly pinning Mu Dishi. "There's no time," he murmured, his breath warm against Mu Dishi's ear.
Mu Dishi pushed Ma Jingguo away, a flush rising on his cheeks, a flash of annoyance. "Don't pin me down in the open! This is such a shameless act!"
As the woman and the man drew closer to the magnolia tree, Ma Jingguo, with lightning speed, sealed Mu Dishi's mouth with his own, preventing him from speaking, a kiss born of necessity and mischief.
"Xiao shushu," Ma Jingguo whispered against Mu Dishi's lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "if you continue to speak, I will cover your mouth with my mouth." He always found Mu Dishi incredibly beautiful when his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and anger.
"Er shixiong, what do you mean?" The woman's voice, sharp and indignant, carried clearly through the air. It was Suo Dongmei.
"Mei mei," the man, Fu Yuanjun, replied, his voice laced with condescension, a sneer audibles. "Even if you are shifu's daughter, most of the disciples have chosen me. Your only option is stepping down."
"Er shixiong, you are an untrustworthy, malicious manipulator!" Suo Dongmei retorted, her voice trembling with barely controlled fury, her words laced with venom. "I never liked you, and I will not start now. The new leader seat of Tianshan Sect belongs to me!"
Fu Yuanjun laughed, a harsh, grating sound that grated on the ears. "Do you know what most people call you?"
"Like I care what they call me!" Suo Dongmei snapped, her voice cracking with indignation.
"You say I am an untrustworthy manipulator," Fu Yuanjun continued, his voice taunting, enjoying her distress, "then what about shifu?"
"What about him?" Suo Dongmei challenged, her voice tight, wary.
"Did he ever tell you how he became the leader of Tianshan Sect?" Fu Yuanjun pressed, a sinister edge to his words, a hint of dark secrets.
Suo Dongmei spun around, her eyes blazing with anger, a sudden fear dawning. "Fu Yuanjun, be careful with your mouth!"
"Mei mei," Fu Yuanjun said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, drawing her in, "let me tell you a short story. The leadership of Tianshan originally belonged to Mu Ai."
"My mother," Mu Dishi whispered, a faint tremor in his voice, his eyes wide with shock, the revelation hitting him like a physical blow.
"Back then," Fu Yuanjun continued, oblivious to their hidden listeners, weaving his tale, "shifu, Fu Shirong, and Mu Ai were the three classmates Grandmaster Yi loved the most. They fought alongside each other, their bonds forged in countless battles. Shifu and Fu Shirong both harbored feelings for Mu Ai. They were very close… until one day."
The young Suo Baojing sat on a rough rock, openly complaining, his impatience clear. "Da shixiong," he whined, his voice laced with childish irritation, "did the Mu family lie to us? We have been waiting for half a day!"
Fu Shirong, ever the patient one, sighed, his gaze sweeping the distant path. "Shidi, be patient. The Mu family answered that they would come. Mu Village is far from Tianshan."
"Why do we have to wait here for them?" Suo Baojing grumbled, kicking at a loose stone, his frustration evident.
"They are our honorable guests," Fu Shirong explained, his voice calm, didactic. "We have to show them generosity because they are here to help shifu."
As the two young men spoke, they saw two figures approaching in the distance, slowly growing larger.
"Sorry, may I ask..." one of the approaching men, Mu Lan, began, his voice hesitant, polite. "How far is it from here to Tianshan Sect?"
"Are the two of you surnamed Mu?" Fu Shirong asked, his eyes widening slightly in recognition, a spark of hope.
"We are," the other man, Mu Jiao Long, replied, his voice firm, authoritative.
"We are disciples of Tianshan Sect," Fu Shirong announced, bowing respectfully, a formal greeting. "We have been waiting for the two of you."
When the four men arrived at Tianshan Sect, they went straight to Yi Tao's private bedroom, a place of hushed solemnity. After Mu Lan, with his quiet, focused demeanor, had finished examining the ailing Yi Tao, he looked up at Fu Shirong, Suo Baojing, and Yi Tao himself, his expression unreadable.
"How was it?" Yi Tao asked, his voice weak but hopeful, clinging to a thread of life. "Can you help me?"
Mu Lan replied, his voice soft but clear, precise. "Yes, I can help you, but according to our family policy, you must trade your most precious valuable for the treatment."
Mu Jiao Long, meanwhile, was openly appraising Mu Ai, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe, a blatant, possessive stare. The crude display made both Suo Baojing and Fu Shirong visibly uncomfortable, their faces tightening.
"Did anyone ever teach you that it's not nice to stare?" Suo Baojing snapped, his face flushing with anger, a protective instinct rising.
Mu Jiao Long merely laughed, a deep, resonant sound that filled the room, mocking. "Everyone praises the two most valuable items in Tianshan Sect. One is the Tianshan 'Spirit Sword Manual,' and the other… is you." He smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes, at Mu Ai, a clear declaration of intent.
Suo Baojing took a step closer to Mu Jiao Long, his fists clenching, trembling with suppressed rage. "You…"
Mu Jiao Long, older and far more composed than the young Suo Baojing, ignored him completely. He turned his attention back to Yi Tao. "Yi shifu," he said, his voice smoothly authoritative, leaving no room for argument, "we must follow our family policy. I hope you understand."
Mu Ai, her gaze fixed on Mu Jiao Long, who was many years her senior, knew instantly what he implied. The 'Spirit Sword Manual' was the very foundation of their sect, something that could never be given away. Her heart sank, a cold dread settling in. "I am willing to trade myself," she said, her voice barely a whisper, but firm, resolute.
Suo Baojing gasped, grabbing Mu Ai's right arm, his eyes wide with horror, disbelief. "Mei mei, are you crazy?"
Mu Jiao Long's smile widened, a cruel satisfaction in his eyes as he looked at Mu Ai, enjoying her despair. "The choice is not yours, little missy. The choice is Yi shifu's."
Mu Ai, her face pale but resolute, sank to her knees before Yi Tao, her head bowed in supplication. "I am willing," she pleaded, her voice thick with emotion, tears welling, "as long as they can save you."
Suo Baojing rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside Mu Ai, tears streaming down his face. "Shifu, don't let mei mei do this, please! Give them the 'Spirit Sword Manual'!"
"Er shixiong," Mu Ai said, her voice strained, her gaze fixed on Suo Baojing, "we cannot give them the 'Spirit Sword Manual.' If we do, according to the rules, we will no longer be able to practice it."
Yi Tao, his face etched with sorrow, looked at Mu Ai, then at Mu Jiao Long, a profound weariness in his eyes. "Ai'er," he said, his voice filled with regret, with a heavy burden, "I am so sorry that I am a burden to you." He then turned to Mu Jiao Long, his voice heavy with resignation. "I will give you Ai'er."
Mu Jiao Long smiled, a triumphant, possessive glint in his eyes as he looked at Mu Ai, a prize won. "Are you ready to be a daughter-in-law of the Mu Clan?"
Mu Ai looked at the older man, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach, a bitter taste in her mouth. "If you help him," she said softly, her voice barely audible, "I have no problem marrying you."
Mu Jiao Long burst out laughing, a loud, mocking sound that echoed in the room, cruel and triumphant. "Little Missy, who said I am going to help Yi shifu and marry you? I have no knowledge of medicine!" He pulled the shy Mu Lan, who had been standing silently beside him, forward, pushing him into the spotlight. "He will cure Yi shifu, and he will marry you."
"Ge…" Mu Lan protested, his cheeks flushing, mortified.
"Ah Lan," Mu Jiao Long cut him off, his voice firm, dismissive, "staying at home and traveling to heal people around the land for the rest of your life will not bring you a wife. Look at her. She is beautiful and meets all of your standards. What more can you ask for?"
Mu Ai looked at the shy Mu Lan, a wave of profound relief washing over her, a sudden lightness in her chest. The one she would be marrying was not Mu Jiao Long. As she looked closer at Mu Lan, she saw that he was indeed very handsome, with long, delicate lashes that framed kind eyes, a gentle soul.
Yi Tao also breathed a visible sigh of relief; a weight lifted from his shoulders. "I agree with this marriage," he said, his voice gaining strength, a flicker of hope. He turned to Mu Ai. "Ai'er, what do you say?"
Mu Ai, a genuine, if resigned, smile touching her lips, looked at Yi Tao, her decision made. "I am willing."
Mu Lan took seven arduous days to cure Yi Tao, his quiet dedication a stark contrast to the drama that had preceded it. The grand wedding was held two days later, a celebration that, for some, was tinged with bitter resentment.
On the wedding night, Suo Baojing sat alone in the backyard, drinking heavily, the bitter wine doing little to quell the rage simmering within him, a fire that refused to be extinguished.
"Shidi, stop drinking," Fu Shirong said, approaching him, his voice gentle, concerned.
"Why?" Suo Baojing snarled, his eyes red-rimmed and angry, brimming with tears of fury. "Why did mei mei pick someone she didn't even know?"
Fu Shirong sighed, his gaze distant, understanding the depth of his junior's pain. "It's her choice, Shidi. We can only accept it."
Suo Baojing lunged, grabbing Fu Shirong by the front of his robes, his face contorted with fury, a raw, primal scream. "No! I will never accept it! If mei mei had picked you, I could still hold back my anger and accept it in time. But I will never, never forgive the Mu family!"
"You are drunk, Shidi," Fu Shirong said calmly, trying to pry his hands away, his voice steady. "Let us go back and rest."
Suo Baojing shoved Fu Shirong away, stumbling slightly, his balance as unstable as his emotions. He pointed a trembling finger at the night sky, his voice rising to a raw, desperate yell, a heartbroken roar. He cursed, his words tearing through the quiet night, a chilling prophecy. "I promise to heaven that I will not let this go! Mu Jiao Long, you sneaky bastard! You took this opportunity to take my mei mei away from me! You wait… when I have my opportunity, I will annihilate the entire Mu Clan!" The oath hung in the air, a chilling prophecy of future destruction, a seed of vengeance planted deep.