Chapter 144
The old man opened the door, the same smile on his face as he hospitably asked after her health; but when Feng Zhiwei looked into that smiling face, all she felt was coldness.
She hid her worries behind a smile and made small talk with the old man before hurrying to the back room; her fingers trembled as she pushed open the door, afraid that she would only find two b.l.o.o.d.y corpses within.
Chunyu Meng and Ning Yi were both alive, and Chunyu Meng was even snoring up a storm, saliva dripping from his lips. Ning Yi sat, his back and shoulders tensing for a moment when the door opened.
Feng Zhiwei let out a sigh of relief; the enemies were still searching the foot of the mountain and had not returned yet. She sped forward to Chunyu Meng’s bed and shook him: “Wake up! Wake up!”
But Chunyu Meng did not stir.
For a Kungfu expert to sleep so soundly in this dangerous environment was impossible, so something was definitely wrong; Feng Zhiwei thought back to the tea, worry and self-admonishment in her heart.
Ning Yi called out calmly: “Leave him. We need to leave.”
Feng Zhiwei’s head whipped around to stare at him.
“As soon as the old man opened his mouth I knew something was wrong.” Ning Yi explained, “Mount Ji Yang’s hunters are all Northerners that came her after the early wars. The old man’s accent and generosity exposed him.”
This man even knew about the hunters in the region... Feng Zhiwei was quietly amazed as she hurried over to help Ning Yi to his feet, scurrying over and then back to Chunyu Meng’s bedside. Chunyu Meng struggled to open his eyes, only managing a single: “Go...” before pa.s.sing out again.
Feng Zhiwei turned to Ning Yi: “If you knew something was wrong, why did you let him drink the tea?”
“Someone had to drink or else the old man would grow suspicious; that would be even more troublesome.” Ning Yi calmly replied, his expression unchanging as he looked off into the distance, not even sparing her a look. “Should you have drank? Or I? Chunyu was the only choice.”
Feng Zhiwei looked at the Prince, his face beautiful like a flower and figure elegant like spring bamboo, but his mind as cutting as winter wind and his heart cold as ice.
“Go...” Chunyu Meng said, stirring once more. He struggled to sit up, sweat covering his face as he fumbled his knife into his grip; with trembling fingers he cut himself, shocking himself with the pain. His voice grew clearer and he quietly repeated himself: “Go — I’ll hold him back...”
Ning Yi turned and carefully examined Chunyu Meng before saying: “Alright.”
He turned back to Feng Zhiwei, his voice still unchangingly calm: “We will take the back cliff. It is not too steep for us to climb. If we leave from the front, we will walk into the enemy.”
Feng Zhiwei stared silently at Ning Yi for a long moment before taking out the Pen Monkeys and placing them in Chunyu Meng’s arms. Without a word, she helped support Ning Yi and climbed out the back window.
The wet cliff was slippery and the mountain wind strong; Feng Zhiwei clutched Ning Yi’s hand and carefully crept forward; the coldness of his hand cut to her bones, and the warmth of hers burned its way to his heart.
The moss was treacherous and neither of them dared let go of the others hand, clutching each other as they moved forward towards the cliff.
Feng Zhiwei looked down at the drop off; it would have been an easy climb on any other day, but with her injuries...
Suddenly Chunyu Meng roared, his angry voice echoing out of the little back window and filling the air.
His cry was like a sharp sword cutting the still night; and the earth trembled, sending loose rocks tumbling down the cliff.
The mountain wind grew fiercer, blowing restlessly around them, and the robes of their sleeves whipped in the air, slapping painfully against face and skin; behind them, a life struggled and fought for survival; and outside on the rocks, two figures clutched wet, craggy stone, waiting in the cold.
The wind sucked heat from their skin and was colder than the ice cellar; their ragged hair whipped around, cutting their frozen skin. The great roar echoed in their minds and hearts, and then there was nothing.
The silence that followed was as sudden as the call.
A modic.u.m of quiet returned to the mountain, heavy and oppressive.
The only sound was that of the callous wind, with even breath whipped away. Ning Yi closed his eyes, his face expressionless; Feng Zhiwei turned her face away, her eyes glittering.
After a moment, Ning Yi nudged Feng Zhiwei, indicating that she should go first.
Feng Zhiwei quietly obeyed, maneuvering over to a protrusion in the stone before carefully moving down. When she reached a steady spot, she turned back for Ning Yi; the Prince moved slowly, following her, but just as he was stepping down to her ledge his foot missed.
Feng Zhiwei rushed forward, in her hurry only able to slam her knee against the cliff as a makeshift foothold for Ning Yi’s foot, her knee crunching into the cliff with the force of her charge.
Ning Yi trembled, his foot twitching back with regret.
Feng Zhiwei quickly grabbed his robe and steadied him.
“Ning Yi, your eyes...” She looked up into his face, cold wind wailing in the night around them.
“Are they blinded?”
Ning Yi trembled again.
Feng Zhiwei clutched Ning Yi, her knee still against the cliff as she looked up at him. She still remembered his muddled gaze in the icehouse and his reaction to the smell of blood and smoke on her; he had not been able to tell that she was injured. Inside the cellar, he had sat face to face with the Poison Eye Insect, the thing that had made her eyes tear up just from an accidental glance through the corner of her eye.
She had been too thoughtless; if Ning Yi had pulled Chunyu Meng away to protect him, who protected Ning Yi?
Ning Yi had composed himself and calmly replied: “It’s fine. I know a little bit about that thing; my eyes are curable. The problem is only temporary.”
Feng Zhiwei murmured her understanding, a wry smile quirking her lips as she looked up at him: “For now, let me be your eyes.”
Her voice was light and even touch relaxed, but her words were as fierce as the mountain wind. Ning Yi trembled again as he lowered his eyes to “look” at Feng Zhiwei with the grey, white blur of his vision. He could not make out her face, and the face she wore was not her real face, but he could still picture the expression gracing her mien — her brows a touch lifted, her brilliant eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
This woman only grew stronger the more danger that surrounded her; she might yield and admit defeat, but she would never cry or freeze.
Feng Zhiwei looked up, confused by the long silence, but Ning Yi had already turned away. His voice was quiet as he replied: “Okay.”
Feng Zhiwei felt that the simple word held some special meaning, but she could not make out Ning Yi’s expression from her angle below him.
“Careful.” Feng Zhiwei said, hesitating a moment before reaching forward and embracing Ning Yi’s knee; she stood below him and this was the only way that the blind Ning Yi could safely move down the cliff; it was just that she was basically hugging his lower half and her face was almost touching his thigh — Feng Zhiwei could only turn her face outward and remind herself of the danger they were in, but her face still flushed.