Chapter 73

Chapter 73: Tryst
Qin Hui Yin wandered along the outer edge of the mountain and found a few things—some useful plants, a handful of greens—but not much. This area was where villagers usually gathered. Anything edible had been picked clean long ago. As for plants they didn’t recognize, people either yanked them up as weeds or trampled them into the dirt.

She hesitated at the mouth of the deep mountains.

The memory of following Song Rui Ze in flashed sharp and vivid—shadowed trees, the weight of silence, danger lurking in every rustle. The deep mountains were nothing like the outskirts. Even setting aside large beasts, venomous insects and snakes were enough to scare most villagers away.

She wasn’t afraid of bugs or snakes.

But if she ran into something big… her small body wouldn’t last a single bite.

A black bear swallowing her whole popped into her mind so clearly she almost tasted panic.

She crushed the thought and backed away.

If Song Rui Ze were here, she might risk it. But he wasn’t. Going in alone was asking for death.

So she kept searching, moving carefully through the brush. She climbed a tree and found a bird’s nest tucked into a crook of branches. With slow, steady hands, she took the eggs and eased them into her basket.

She was shifting her weight to climb down when she spotted movement below—two figures walking along the path.

The man was unfamiliar, someone she’d never seen. The woman, though…

Tang Ming Xiu.

A girl Qin Hui Yin saw often in the village—chin lifted, eyes sharp, walking past as if the world owed her a bow.

The pair stopped beneath Qin Hui Yin’s tree.

“Xiu Er, did you miss me?” the man murmured.

Then he wrapped an arm around Tang Ming Xiu and kissed her—hard, urgent, like he’d been starving.

Qin Hui Yin went still.

Well. That was unfortunate.

She had even less desire to climb down now.

Tang Ming Xiu was only 15 and not yet engaged. Who was this man?

“Gentler…” Tang Ming Xiu pushed at him with a shy flutter, the kind of refusal that wasn’t really refusal at all.

“I missed you to death these past two weeks,” he said, pressing closer. “Let me look at you.”

His hands slid to her clothes.

And then he started pulling at them.

Qin Hui Yin frowned. Here? In the open?

Even in her previous life, she’d never had a boyfriend. She wasn’t some wide-eyed innocent, but she also had no interest in watching a short, slender man paw at Tang Ming Xiu like he owned her. There was nothing worth looking at.

A hiss sounded near Qin Hui Yin’s ear.

She turned her head and found a small red snake sliding along the branch toward her, tongue flicking.

Qin Hui Yin stared at it for a moment, thoughts turning over quietly in her mind.

When the snake drew close enough, she reached out, caught it neatly behind the head, and held it firm.

Below, Tang Ming Xiu was pinned against the trunk of the tree opposite, still kissing, her clothes pulled loose, pale skin exposed in the dappled light.

Qin Hui Yin’s hand tilted.

The red snake dropped.

“Ah!” Tang Ming Xiu shrieked as something cold and slick brushed across her skin.

The man froze, all heat vanishing from his face.

Afraid her scream would draw people, he clapped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet! Do you want someone to see us like this?”

Tang Ming Xiu’s eyes were huge. She pointed with a shaking finger at his shoulder. “Snake… snake… on you…”

The man went rigid.

He could hear the hiss. Worse—he felt it. The snake slid over his neck, the cold, slick touch making his scalp prickle with terror.

“Quick,” he whispered hoarsely. “Quick, get it—get it off me!”

“I’m scared!” Tang Ming Xiu choked out.

“Hurry up! Use something—pry it off!”

Up in the branches, Qin Hui Yin sat very still, watching.

Tang Ming Xiu wouldn’t touch it. The man didn’t dare move. Tang Ming Xiu started to cry. The man, moments ago sweet and breathless, snapped at her, calling her useless.

In the span of heartbeats, tenderness turned into blame. Their masks slipped, and something ugly showed underneath.

In the end, even the snake seemed to lose patience. It slid off the man’s shoulder and disappeared into the grass.

The man dropped to the ground, wiping sweat from his face with trembling fingers.

“Brother Chun Sheng…” Tang Ming Xiu tugged at his sleeve, voice turning soft again. “What about the rouge you promised to buy me?”

Chun Sheng jerked his sleeve away. “I didn’t bring it today.”

“You promised last time!” Tang Ming Xiu’s voice sharpened. “How can you go back on it? You kissed me, you looked at me, and now you want to regret it? I’ll tell my mother—”

“Go ahead!” he shouted, face twisting. “I’d like to see how you tell her. Who saw us? Do you have proof? In the end, only your reputation will stink.”

Tang Ming Xiu’s eyes filled again. “You… Brother Chun Sheng, how can you treat me like this?”

“Enough.” He spat the word. “Stop crying. Today’s unlucky. Next time we meet somewhere else. Don’t come to this ghost of a place again—it kills the mood.”

Then he strode off as if a ghost truly was chasing him, not sparing Tang Ming Xiu a second glance.

Tang Ming Xiu stood there, cursing him for not caring whether she lived or died, cursing him for breaking his word, then muttering fiercely that next time she wouldn’t let him kiss her if he didn’t bring rouge.

Up in the tree, Qin Hui Yin’s face stayed blank.

After Tang Ming Xiu finally left, Qin Hui Yin climbed down.

After seeing something that disgusting, she needed to get home and wash her eyes.

She carried her basket down the mountain and, halfway along the path, ran straight into Tang Ming Xiu—who looked like she’d been rushing back in a panic.

Tang Ming Xiu’s face went white at the sight of her. Then her expression snapped into a glare. “Why are you here?”

Qin Hui Yin knew exactly why Tang Ming Xiu was nervous. She didn’t expose it. She just looked Tang Ming Xiu up and down, mild and curious. “Is this mountain your family’s?”

“You—”

“The way you said it,” Qin Hui Yin went on, voice light, “I almost thought your family bought the whole mountain and banned everyone else from coming up.”

She stepped to pass.

Tang Ming Xiu shifted quickly to block her, eyes hard. “Where were you just now?”

“I was picking mushrooms.” Qin Hui Yin tilted her basket toward her. “Don’t tell me you’re going to claim my mushrooms are yours again and refuse to let me take them.”

“Who’s talking about that?” Tang Ming Xiu snapped, then seemed to catch herself. Her shoulders loosened a fraction.

Qin Hui Yin looked normal. Unbothered. Nothing about her suggested she’d seen anything.

Maybe… maybe she really didn’t know.

Tang Ming Xiu turned away abruptly and hurried off.

Only after Qin Hui Yin had walked farther down did Tang Ming Xiu return to the place beneath the tree, searching the grass with frantic hands. Her earrings were missing—silver, expensive.

After a few minutes, she found them. Relief almost buckled her knees.

“Thank goodness,” she whispered, fastening them back on. “Thank goodness I didn’t lose them.”

Then her gaze caught on something across the way: footprints at the base of a tree.

Not hers.

Her mind went blank. Her legs went weak, and she sat down hard.

“She lied to me,” Tang Ming Xiu gasped.

A new fear surged up, sharp and suffocating. If Qin Hui Yin had been up there… if she’d seen…

No. She couldn’t let Qin Hui Yin go down the mountain and talk nonsense.

Tang Ming Xiu lurched to her feet and ran.

She ran so hard her lungs burned. When she finally caught sight of Qin Hui Yin, Qin Hui Yin still hadn’t made it home. She was crouched by the river, scooping water to wash her face.

Tang Ming Xiu stopped and stared.

Qin Hui Yin was young, but her features, her skin—even the way she moved—were different from village girls. Crouched there, water sliding over her hands, she looked like a lady stepped out of a painting.

Something twisted inside Tang Ming Xiu’s chest, dark and hungry.

A beast in her heart whispered: No one is here. Push her in. No one will know it was you.