Wandering Swordsman |

"Do you remember when we first traveled to Jiangnan?" Murong Qing suddenly chuckled, turning to look at Shen Mo, her eyes filled with a thousand tender feelings. "Back then, you... had just married us, but you had to fulfill your promise and travel to the unknown far west."

She paused, a slight smile playing on her lips, as if the scene were still vivid in her mind: "So Meng'er asked you to stay a few more days, and you stayed for seven days, taking us on a lone boat down the Qinhuai River, straight into Taihu Lake."

Situ Meng smiled upon hearing this, her eyes softening with tenderness: "On the day we first arrived in Jiangnan, the drizzle was fine and the lake was shrouded in mist. You stood at the bow of the boat, holding an oil-paper umbrella painted with fish, your blue robe damp with the moisture, yet you turned back and grinned at us, saying, 'Look, this is the land your husband has conquered for you'—but before you could finish speaking, your umbrella was 'ambushed' by a white egret flying by."

The three of them burst into laughter, their clear, melodious voices startling several early-rising kingfishers from the reeds on the bank, which fluttered away into the depths of the morning light.

My trip to Jiangnan back then was truly like a dream. The awning boats glided slowly through the waterways, with white walls and black tiles on both banks, and weeping willows brushing the water.

They sat in the cabin, peeling lotus pods, sipping fresh tea, and listening to Shen Mo tell stories of his childhood.

While spending the night in Suzhou, he led them to the bell tower of Hanshan Temple. As the moon set and crows cried, and frost covered the sky, he held one of their hands and stood beneath the ancient bell, whispering, "To be able to grow old with you two in this life, I envy no immortals."

......

The three of them walked to the banks of the Qinhuai River, where willow branches brushed against their faces and the river water shimmered.

The morning market on the riverbank was already open, the shouts of vendors, the laughter of children, and the calls of boatmen blending together to create a lively scene. Shen Mo suddenly reined in his horse and took out two oil paper packages from his robes.

"Here you go." He handed them to the two of them respectively.

Murong Qing opened it and found it was her favorite sweet lotus root with osmanthus; Situ Meng held a warm glutinous rice cake.

"When did you buy it?" Situ Meng asked in surprise.

"I just passed by a breakfast stall and saw you guys staring straight ahead—" Shen Mo smiled mischievously, "You just know you're craving something."

The two feigned anger, but couldn't hide the smiles on their lips.

The three of them sat on their horses, slowly riding along while sharing their breakfast. The morning breeze caressed their faces, and the sweet aroma filled their hearts.

As the sun rose higher, the three of them had reached the outskirts of the city.

In the distance, the green mountains are like ink paintings, with layer upon layer of peaks and clouds swirling among them, resembling a fairyland.

"Where to next?" Murong Qing asked, her eyes full of anticipation.

Shen Mo gazed into the distance, his eyes filled with longing: "Let's go to Huangshan first. I've heard that when the sea of ​​clouds surges, it's like being in heaven. I want to take you to the top of the mountain to watch the sunrise break through the clouds and see the rays of the setting sun."

"And then?" Situ Meng pressed.

"Then..." Shen Mo chuckled, "we'll go to Emei to see the Buddha's light at the Golden Summit; to Huashan to discuss swordsmanship at Canglong Ridge; to Hengshan to hear the bells of Zhurong Peak; to Hengshan to visit the Hanging Temple... until we've traveled all over the Five Sacred Mountains and seen all of China."

"What if you can't walk anymore?" Murong Qing asked deliberately.

Shen Mo reined in his horse and turned to gaze at the two of them, his eyes gentle as water: "Then let's stop. Let's find a beautiful place with mountains and rivers, and build a hut to live in. I'll grow vegetables, you'll brew tea, and Meng'er will gather herbs. From now on, we'll not concern ourselves with the affairs of the martial world, but simply live as carefree people."

Murong Qing and Situ Meng exchanged a glance, their eyes shining with happiness. They nodded in unison, their smiles blooming like flowers.

"it is good."

"it is good."

The three riders set off again, their hooves light and quick, traversing fields and passing through shady groves, continuing their journey. The scenery along the way was picturesque, and their minds were clear. However, the world of martial arts is not a paradise after all; even with a leisurely and carefree spirit, one cannot escape the injustices of the world.

As they approached a mountain pass, they suddenly heard a woman crying and a crude shout coming from ahead. The three men reined in their horses and stopped. They saw five or six burly men surrounding an overturned carriage. One of them was holding a trembling little girl in his hand, while another was brandishing a knife and pointing it at an old man with white hair.

"Hand over everything valuable! Otherwise, I'll chop up your granddaughter and feed her to the dogs!" The bandit leader grinned maliciously, the blade reflecting the sunlight, exuding a chilling aura.

Murong Qing frowned slightly, his hand already on the hilt of his sword at his waist; Situ Meng also placed her hand on the Gongbu sword at her waist, her eyes as cold as frost.

Shen Mo merely sighed softly, his voice low but deafening, like a thunderclap in everyone's ears: "Stop!"

The bandits were taken aback. Turning around, they saw three travelers on horseback and immediately burst into laughter: "Where did these reckless fools come from? Get lost, don't get in our way of making money!"

Before he finished speaking, Shen Mo's figure had already darted out like a ghost. In a flash, the steel knife in the bandit leader's hand was already in Shen Mo's hand, while the bandit leader himself was clutching his throat and staggering backward, his face full of horror—a drop of blood slowly seeped from his Adam's apple.

"You...you are..." His voice trembled.

"I am Shen Mo!" Upon hearing these four words, everyone else crumbled.

Upon hearing this name, the remaining bandits scrambled into the forest, abandoning their weapons. The old man knelt tremblingly in gratitude, while the little girl threw herself into her grandfather's arms, tears streaming down her face.

Murong Qing dismounted, took out some loose silver from his bag, and said gently, "Old man, take the child to town to find a doctor. This silver will serve as your travel expenses."

Situ Meng squatted down, gently stroked the girl's hair, whispered a few words of comfort, and then gave her a piece of osmanthus candy.

Shen Mo stuck the knife back into the ground, turned around and smiled at the two women: "It seems that if you want to be a carefree wanderer in the martial world, you have to clear the thorns from your path first."

"Then let's sweep them away." Murong Qing mounted her horse, her smile undiminished. "Anyway, with you here, thorns are nothing more than roadside weeds."

The three set off again, the sunlight shining on their backs as if gilded.

......

Half a month later, the group passed through Mengzhou.

Beside the official road, a blue stone boundary marker stands quietly, inscribed with the two characters "Mengzhou" in vigorous strokes, weathered by time.

The handwriting seemed to have been washed by countless winds and rains, and caressed by the gazes of countless travelers. It had long lost its initial sharpness, but had settled into a calm and profound charm, like an old man who had seen all the ways of the world, silently watching over the hurried people coming and going by the dusty roadside.

Shen Mo reined in his horse and stopped. His dark robes fluttered gently in the breeze, like dark clouds hanging low.

He stared at those two words, his gaze suddenly softening and becoming profound, as if piercing through the boundary marker before him, and seeing the ragged boy from many years ago, the moment he met the middle-aged swordsman. Back then, his eyes were filled only with hunger and confusion, but now, behind him lay the vast world of martial arts, beside him stood a beauty of unparalleled grace, yet in his heart there remained a soft spot, reserved only for one person.

"What's wrong, my husband?" Situ Meng asked softly, her voice like a clear spring striking a stone, carrying a hint of barely perceptible concern.

Murong Qing also turned her head slightly, her white robes fluttering in the wind, her features exquisite, her eyes clear as water. Though she did not speak, her eyes were already filled with understanding and tenderness.

Shen Mo remained silent for a moment before slowly speaking, his voice low and gentle: "My master... opened a martial arts school here."

Upon hearing this, the two women exchanged a glance, their eyes flashing with understanding and respect.

They naturally knew that the "master" Shen Mo spoke of was neither Zhang Zhenren of Wudang nor Yang Zhi, the swordsman of the sunset beyond the Great Wall, but the one who brought him into the martial world—Luo Wangchen.

"Since we're passing by, we should naturally pay our respects to Senior Luo." The two said in unison, their tone firm and sincere.

A long-lost warmth appeared in Shen Mo's eyes, a pure smile after all defenses had been laid bare, like a crack in the surface of a frozen lake revealing a ray of spring. "If he sees me and you here, he will be delighted," he said softly, as if he could already see his stern master's expression when he saw him return with two beauties, his feigned seriousness masking the smile in his eyes.

After saying this, the three of them immediately and slowly entered the territory of Mengzhou along the official road.