The rhythmic clop of horse hooves echoed through the verdant woodlands as the wooden carriage emerged from the forest depths, only to be swallowed again by the bamboo thickets lining the narrowing road.
The vast emerald expanse of grassland gave way to towering green stalks swaying gently in the breeze, their feathery leaves rustling like whispers. A gurgling creek ran parallel to their path, originating from a majestic stone waterfall in the distance that glistened like liquid diamonds under the sun's radiant gaze.
The dirt trail constricted to merely allow two carriages side by side as they slowly descended into the lower reaches, the horses' iron-shod hooves clattering against the haphazard ceramic steps.
Craggy boulders protruded from the uneven terrain and path ahead, while the creek's crystalline waters danced and glimmered enticingly to their right.
Now...
Slender beams of golden sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, bathing the coachman's face in a warm amber glow, his thick long white hair fluttering like clouds in the gentle zephyrs.
Wrinkles etched at the corners of the coachman's crimson eyes as he squinted resolutely ahead, strong and youthful hands gripping the leather reins tightly to control the muscular steeds.
But then...
The carriage rolled to a halt, he tilted his gaze upwards, watching the dazzling sun's descent as dusk stealthily crept over the forest. The lengthening shadows transformed the meandering creek into a shimmering mirror, reflecting the imposing silhouette of their carriage's hulking form.
A sideways glance over his shoulder revealed another carriage's outline far behind, little more than a speck in the fading light.
"So, you choose to stay silent, Senior Sister?" the coachman spoke. Of course, it was none other than Ji Wuye. The fact that he was the only one hale and conscious.
Beside him on the cramped driver's bench sat the real coachman, deathly still and alarmingly pale, chest wrapped in a pristine white cloth and slumped unconscious against Ji Wuye's shoulder.
While logic dictated moving the incapacitated man inside the carriage since he was injured, the problem was that the unconscious Song Jia was also there. "It would be inappropriate, especially if talking about her," Ji Wuye thought. Song Jia, in particular, even had a problem with men. Thus, Ji Wuye didn't dare to put the coachman in the same space with her.
...
At the same time, as the vibrant pinks and oranges surrendered to encroaching indigo shadows, the convoy had only traversed halfway towards their intended destination.
Though physically capable of pressing onward, the waning light and the coachman's injury made continuing too hazardous a gambit. With a soft tug on the reins, Ji Wuye brought the carriage to a halt once again, crimson eyes scanning their surroundings for a suitable campsite.
At last, his gaze settled upon a relatively flat clearing hugging the creek's banks - not perfectly level, but ample enough to make preparations as the final sliver of sun's disk slipped beneath the treeline.
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A moment later, Ji Wuye deftly secured the reins to a nearby cluster of sturdy tree branches, ensuring the horse would not wander. Then he circled around to the rear of the carriage, retrieving the folded straw mat.
With deft movements born from experience, he unfurled the simple mat upon a relatively flat patch of earth near the whispering creek. Gingerly, he transferred the unconscious coachman's dead weight onto the woven bedding, adjusting the bloodied white shroud to prevent further staining of the fibers.
"Now, let's set the fire," Ji Wuye muttered, his calloused fingers tearing a long strip of cloth from the tattered carriage canopy to serve as a makeshift tinder.
Squatting by the creek's edge, he scooped up a handful of smoothed pebbles before scavenging an ample bundle of dry kindling from the surrounding forestscape. Within moments, a merry blaze crackled to life in the makeshift firepit, bathing the small camp in flickering amber light.
Ji Wuye settled cross-legged beside the wounded coachman upon the straw mat, carefully unwinding the bloodstained cloth wrapped around the man's chest. "It's not that deep," he remarked in a low, gravelly timbre while inspecting the ragged puncture with a critical eye. A fortunate circumstance, that the Dark Wolf's attack had not sundered bone.
As for the coachman's unconscious state, "Probably the shock, from being so close to death." With those words, he extracted a slender bone needle and length of tough thread, deftly threading the pliable fiber.
Crimson eyes narrowed with intense focus, Ji Wuye set to work meticulously closing the seeping wound with economical, practiced motions.
The muffled gurgle of the creek blended with the lilting song of the distant waterfall, accompanied by the nocturnal forest's whispers as bamboo stalks swayed in the crisp night breezes - a harmonious melody providing a calming backdrop to the bloody ministrations.
At last, Ji Wuye secured the final stitch with a deft knot, expelling a slow breath as he raised his gaze from his handiwork.
But...
His crimson eyes widened slightly at the sight of Song Jia standing outside the carriage, observing him with an indecipherable expression on her delicate features. Their eyes met and held for a lingering moment.
"A-amazing..." The hushed utterance slipped from Song Jia's lips as she gracefully lowered herself to settle upon the straw mat, brown eyes fixated in open awe upon the freshly stitched closure on the coachman's chest.
"I can't believe Brother Ji has such incredible survival skills," she continued in a tone edged with grudging admiration.
Yet...
Noting his studious avoidance of her gaze, Song Jia's brow furrowed in a small frown. "What?"
Following Ji Wuye's sidelong glance and subtle gesture, Song Jia's eyes flicked downwards to find the sash of her martial robe had come loose, allowing the garment to part immodestly and reveal the snug roller bindings preserving her.... mountains.
Flustered beyond words, Song Jia swiftly turned away to hurriedly retie the loosened sash of her martial robe, her porcelain features flushing a brilliant crimson.
The awkward atmosphere hung thickly in the air around them like a viscous fog, nearly suffocating in its intensity. 'How shameful! I wish I could dig a hole and disappear!' she inwardly berated herself, far too mortified to meet Ji Wuye's gaze.
Her eyes flickered towards the nearby burbling creek, briefly entertaining the notion of plunging into the refreshing waters to douse the burning heat consuming her cheeks. However, the crisp night breezes hinted that such an act would likely only leave her chilled and ill.
What could she possibly do to diffuse this unbearable tension?
But then...
"Cough...cough....cough..." Ji Wuye's gruff cough abruptly sliced through the strained silence like a blade. "Sister Song, let's just forget what happened," he suggested in that perpetually calm baritone, not a flicker of impropriety or mockery tainting the words.
Song Jia's rosebud lips parted and closed wordlessly, her mind a cyclonic tempest of shame and propriety.
She knew, rationally, that it had been an innocent accident - merely her own carelessness leading to such an immodest display. With a resigned sigh, she slowly turned to face Ji Wuye once more, noting the eternal serenity etched into his rugged features.
That infuriatingly placid composure somehow managed to rile her embarrassment into fleeting annoyance before the dancing flames in the newly-kindled firepit caught her wandering attention.
Her gaze flicked between the cheery blaze and the expertly sutured laceration on the coachman's chest, curiosity rapidly overwhelming her lingering chagrin. Just how had Ji Wuye performed such an intricate field dressing?
As far as her recollections served, the rumors branding him a mere 'flower boy' - were blatantly false. This man before her radiated an unmistakable aura of quiet strength.
'It makes no sense,' Song Jia's mind protested as she studied him surreptitiously, eyes tracing the handsomeness of his features while he leaned back against the rough bark, his own crimson gaze transfixed upon the susurrant creek.
But then...
Flashes of memory assailed her - back in the battle, Ji Wuye effortlessly evading the encircling wolves, spewing utter nonsense about transcendent martial concepts...
Her finely arched brows drew together in a contemplative furrow as she recalled the shocked outrage, the virulent sense of betrayal that had blazed through her being in those moments.
Yet those feelings had ultimately paled into insignificance before the dizzying realization that she had, at last, managed to manifest the Second Movement of the Rising Gale.
Drawing a steadying breath, Song Jia abruptly rose and drifted towards Ji Wuye's reclined form. Coming to a halt before him, she lowered herself to his level, angling her chin upwards to better meet his unfathomable crimson regard.
"Brother Ji..." she began in a measured tone, "tell me, what happened after that battle?"
Yet…
SPLASH-!
Song Jia felt the words perched upon the tip of her tongue wither away in an instant at the disruptive sound of water displacing nearby.