Meng Qi felt lost and dejected.
Meng Qi’s words didn’t seem to catch Mo Li’s attention.
When he was diagnosing patients, he often asked about their feelings, and many of them couldn’t read or write, which led them to use all sorts of words to describe their conditions. Some would say they felt as strong as a bull, others as weak as a fox that hadn’t eaten for days, or losing hair like the old yellow dog next door, and so on.
Some would only describe what they could do, like being able to push a grinding stone ten rounds or plowing half an acre of land in one breath.
Climbing mountains was a common metaphor.
And of course, Dragon Horn Peak, as the name suggests, made Mo Li easily think of it as the highest point on Shangyun Mountain.
“Remember to take me with you; it seems you’re quite clear-headed,” Mo Li casually extended his hand to take Meng Qi’s pulse, saying, “I’m afraid your condition might worsen, and you’ll rush into the mountains, leaving me to chase after you all night.”
“…”
Meng Qi’s arm stiffened at the words.
Mo Li thought Meng Qi might be embarrassed, so he didn’t think much of it.
The daylight had faded, and there was still some lingering mist in the forest, making it impossible to see the stone steps further ahead.
Meng Qi gazed deeply at Mo Li; he felt that his vision had improved, and in this mountain, he seemed to see many things without getting too close.
The Doctor always dressed neatly, and except for the neck and palms, he would never expose any part of his body. Even martial arts experts couldn’t see people clearly through the thick winter clothes.
But now, it suddenly felt different. Meng Qi could feel the long arms and waist under the person’s robe, just like he had imagined before. There was only a thin layer of muscle around the chest and abdomen, making it look somewhat fragile.
But it was an illusion.
Meng Qi had witnessed the power emanating from this body, and he had even turned into a sand rat, comfortably resting in Mo Li’s embrace. Mo Li’s body was not as soft; his muscles were hard, even though he intentionally relaxed because of the sand rat.
That soft illusion was because of the warmth, like lying on a riverbank warmed by the sun all day.
Even though Mo Li was not much taller than him, Meng Qi had the strange impulse to pick him up, and curl him in his palms, hidden from anyone’s sight.
If only the doctor were also a sand rat…
Then the two sand rats could snuggle together, sharing the same burrow, their long fur close together, looking like a bigger, rounder lump from a distance. They would drag the most comfortable grass and the sweetest fruits into the burrow and stay there for the entire winter.
Mo Li, who was currently diagnosing Meng Qi’s pulse, had a peculiar expression on his face.
The pulse was showing signs of emotional disturbance, with qi surging through the meridians and essence sinking into the dantian. It was a clear sign of emotional turmoil.
Then the yang qi gradually dissipated, and the heart pulse began to stabilize. If Meng Qi hadn’t been standing in front of him, Mo Li would have thought the pulse was that of a person deep in peaceful sleep, without any distractions.
The speed at which he saw through the world was way too fast!
Although internal martial artists could suppress their desires like eating and drinking, Meng Qi’s previous changes indicated that the spiritual energy had an impact on him. Mo Li was about to further examine the pulse and prescribe medication when he unintentionally looked up and met Meng Qi’s eyes.
“…?”
Mo Li almost thought he saw that golden dragon.
The dragon that resided above Taijing, covered in golden scales, radiating brilliance.
The dragon had been hidden in the clouds and mist, eyes half-open, breathing almost nonexistent. Suddenly awakened, it stared at the intruder in its territory, slowly unfurling its body.
Just like when Mo Li was on Qimao Mountain, guided by the dragon veins of Taijing, he had seen the same thing.
The dragon’s eyes were like two suns shining in the pitch-black night, as if all things in the world were contained within them.
Although Meng Qi’s eyes didn’t emit light, in Mo Li’s eyes, at that moment, Meng Qi and that golden dragon overlapped.
“Meng… Meng Qi?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you see?”
Meng Qi’s eyes didn’t blink, and he spoke in a gentle and calm tone, “I want to talk to the doctor…”
When he spoke the last few words, he suddenly came to his senses and quickly stopped talking.
“I want to spend every day, every moment, every instant with the doctor.”
“…”
Mo Li was almost persuaded by that dragon-like gaze.
Mo Li knew that Meng Qi was pleased with him, so he wasn’t surprised when Meng Qi suddenly became emotional.
Compared to the first time when he was baffled by how one dragon vein could have desires for another, and how two dragon veins couldn’t produce offspring together, Mo Li was handling it much better now.
After spending time together during this period, Mo Li had gradually come to understand Meng Qi’s thoughts and began contemplating his own existence and the path of sentient beings in this world from this perspective.
Meng Qi was like someone who had opened a door for him, revealing many unseen landscapes.
Although he wasn’t sure about the future, Mo Li was no longer the dragon vein of Qimao Mountain who only wanted to find companions. His heart had gained something, and his eyes had added more colors, along with subtle changes in everything in the world.
—As a dragon vein born in the human world, he would eventually transform into a “human.”
Mo Li looked at Meng Qi and whispered, “Although I don’t know why, it’s very happy.”
“What?” Meng Qi reacted quickly, furrowing his brows.
Mo Li, using the motion of grabbing Meng Qi’s wrist, gently placed Meng Qi’s hand on his left hand.
The rhythm of his heartbeats was somewhat fast.
Hidden beneath his fair skin, it throbbed rapidly, again and again.
After a moment of stupefaction, Meng Qi simply extended both hands and covered Mo Li’s left hand.
Mo Li’s wrist was held in the center of the other’s palm, and he felt a bit amused; he only wanted Meng Qi to feel his pulse, but it seemed like Meng Qi wanted to take his hand away.
“Loosen up a bit.”
Mo Li reminded, as the wrist was held tightly, and the blood circulation was hindered, making his fingers numb.
Meng Qi reduced the pressure slightly but still didn’t let go. At the same time, his gaze followed Mo Li’s arm, up to the shoulder, and finally rested on the left side of Mo Li’s chest.
“…”
This was going too far, and Mo Li unceremoniously pulled his hand back.
“Don’t you hear clearly when you sense the true qi in the pulse?” Mo Li said with a stern face.
“I’m not a doctor; I don’t know how to feel pulses,” Meng Qi replied innocently, thinking that he should listen to the chest according to what he had read.
Mo Li turned and walked away without looking back.
Meng Qi didn’t hurry; he just followed leisurely, and the smile on his lips became even more evident.
Dragon Claw Peak was a relatively well-traveled route into the mountains. The scenery on Shangyun Mountain was magnificent, with strange peaks and unique rock formations constantly appearing. Depending on the direction, the mountain peaks often displayed different shapes. Apart from a few peaks designated as imperial tombs and off-limits, about a dozen peaks had visitors all year round. With more people, the roads were naturally well-maintained.
The stone steps of Dragon Claw Peak were smooth, and it was effortless for ordinary people to walk up them, let alone martial artists with inner strength.
They easily climbed halfway up the mountain.
Along the way, they passed five pavilions, some built at the bends of the mountain path, and some expanded into short corridors and long pavilions, enough to accommodate more than twenty people. Mo Li estimated that these rest stops were built for ordinary people.
Now that it was nighttime, there was no one in the pavilions, and the mountain path was equally deserted.
Unconsciously, Mo Li slowed down as he walked.
On either side of the mountain path were trees, their blossoms had closed, and the stone steps were covered with a shallow layer of pink and white petals. Birds had returned to their nests, and only the echoes in the empty valley lingered softly.
“Meng Qi, where do you live?”
“It’s quite far from here, over nine mountains, according to the nineteen dragon-shaped peaks on Shangyun Mountain. It’s close to the dragon’s tail,” Meng Qi replied, thinking of the beloved pet he once had.
The memory of that little sand rat’s appearance had gradually faded from his mind.
Only the deep-seated anger and grief remained, as if the incident had happened just yesterday.
Mo Li promptly noticed the change in Meng Qi’s breath behind him. He turned around and walked quickly, placing one hand on Meng Qi’s back and said seriously, “Calm your mind.”
Meng Qi stared in that direction for a long time and let out a deep sigh.
He recalled something else.
He remembered how that little sand rat had appeared. That day, he was wandering in the mountains when he suddenly felt that some of his spiritual energy had run away without listening to him, and it never returned. It was like a thief had come to his home and stolen a part of Shangyun Mountain’s treasures.
No, it was even more dramatic.
It was like the “valuable things” at home had run away with the thief on their own.
As a mountain spirit, he was furious.
Memories of this part were blurry, and Meng Qi didn’t know how he investigated it, but somehow, he quickly found that the “culprit” hid at the entrance of his “home.”
The culprit clung to him and refused to leave, stealing from him for an extended period.
He stared at that spot for an unknown amount of time until a trembling white sphere gradually emerged from the spiritual cave.
It had no specific form, no self-awareness; it had been forced out by the “homeowner’s” pressure and shivered instinctively.
It was a peculiar feeling, like something with a shared essence, but not quite the same. Meng Qi remembered that he could have thrown this sphere far away; it had already taken enough benefits, and it wouldn’t starve outside, eventually regaining consciousness.
But he didn’t.
He built a house there, transplanted spiritual herbs, and made it easier for the spiritual cave to connect with the spiritual energy of heaven and earth.
Every day, at sunrise and sunset, he would force the sphere to come out.
—Spiritual energy had to be consumed, whether it wanted to or not.
Didn’t it want to steal? Now, he was giving it plenty!
The sphere gradually took on a clear form and became a sand rat.
Initially thin and shadowy, it had no physical body. Meng Qi suspected it was deliberately mimicking him.
It was a strange feeling, like they were connected by blood.
The sphere grew fatter with each passing day until one day, it opened its eyes and ran around the courtyard, damaging many leaves of the spiritual herbs. Meng Qi thought he could teach it some manners, but it remained simple-minded.
Meng Qi refused to believe that it was his child.
Could a child be this stupid?
He turned and left, but after three days, he couldn’t help but return.
On that day, the sand rat was sleeping in the courtyard’s pit, just like the day it had left with him.
It didn’t move when poked, obedient when it wanted to be, and energetic enough to dig holes in the house’s roof when it felt like it.
Was this the feeling of having a companion?
Meng Qi felt a sense of loss.
He looked at the doctor, convinced that it wasn’t the same; the doctor was entirely different, what could a silly one like that do? It was a hassle to take care of, and it wouldn’t even produce any results.
—No matter how he nurtured it, it was half the size of his original form.
No matter how he fed it with spiritual energy, it only hummed and lay there pretending to be dead.
Raising a child wasn’t about having an extra pillow to keep warm! Even if he spread it out, it would barely make a difference. Meng Qi didn’t care for it.
But since he had raised it, he continued to do so; after all, there was an abundance of spiritual energy on Shangyun Mountain.
Meng Qi had never thought that one day that silly little creature would be gone.
It lay in the messy courtyard, cold to the touch, like a deflated ball, and its spiritual energy slowly flowed out of its body, returning to the spiritual cave.
Soon, it was just a shadow.
Then even the shadow disappeared, becoming a vague, indistinct shape.
“Ah…”
Meng Qi gasped, his head pounding.
Mo Li’s hand was shaken away by the surging true qi, and he tried to grab Meng Qi, but it was too late. Meng Qi’s figure disappeared rapidly into the darkness.
Author’s note:
Mo Li: … I had a feeling this would happen; I’ll have to chase after him all night.
———
I initially wanted to use the title “Spring Scenery,” but I was worried it might be censored, so I decided to stick with the original title.
Meng Qi felt lost and dejected.
Meng Qi’s words didn’t seem to catch Mo Li’s attention.
When he was diagnosing patients, he often asked about their feelings, and many of them couldn’t read or write, which led them to use all sorts of words to describe their conditions. Some would say they felt as strong as a bull, others as weak as a fox that hadn’t eaten for days, or losing hair like the old yellow dog next door, and so on.
Some would only describe what they could do, like being able to push a grinding stone ten rounds or plowing half an acre of land in one breath.
Climbing mountains was a common metaphor.
And of course, Dragon Horn Peak, as the name suggests, made Mo Li easily think of it as the highest point on Shangyun Mountain.
“Remember to take me with you; it seems you’re quite clear-headed,” Mo Li casually extended his hand to take Meng Qi’s pulse, saying, “I’m afraid your condition might worsen, and you’ll rush into the mountains, leaving me to chase after you all night.”
“…”
Meng Qi’s arm stiffened at the words.
Mo Li thought Meng Qi might be embarrassed, so he didn’t think much of it.
The daylight had faded, and there was still some lingering mist in the forest, making it impossible to see the stone steps further ahead.
Meng Qi gazed deeply at Mo Li; he felt that his vision had improved, and in this mountain, he seemed to see many things without getting too close.
The Doctor always dressed neatly, and except for the neck and palms, he would never expose any part of his body. Even martial arts experts couldn’t see people clearly through the thick winter clothes.
But now, it suddenly felt different. Meng Qi could feel the long arms and waist under the person’s robe, just like he had imagined before. There was only a thin layer of muscle around the chest and abdomen, making it look somewhat fragile.
But it was an illusion.
Meng Qi had witnessed the power emanating from this body, and he had even turned into a sand rat, comfortably resting in Mo Li’s embrace. Mo Li’s body was not as soft; his muscles were hard, even though he intentionally relaxed because of the sand rat.
That soft illusion was because of the warmth, like lying on a riverbank warmed by the sun all day.
Even though Mo Li was not much taller than him, Meng Qi had the strange impulse to pick him up, and curl him in his palms, hidden from anyone’s sight.
If only the doctor were also a sand rat…
Then the two sand rats could snuggle together, sharing the same burrow, their long fur close together, looking like a bigger, rounder lump from a distance. They would drag the most comfortable grass and the sweetest fruits into the burrow and stay there for the entire winter.
Mo Li, who was currently diagnosing Meng Qi’s pulse, had a peculiar expression on his face.
The pulse was showing signs of emotional disturbance, with qi surging through the meridians and essence sinking into the dantian. It was a clear sign of emotional turmoil.
Then the yang qi gradually dissipated, and the heart pulse began to stabilize. If Meng Qi hadn’t been standing in front of him, Mo Li would have thought the pulse was that of a person deep in peaceful sleep, without any distractions.
The speed at which he saw through the world was way too fast!
Although internal martial artists could suppress their desires like eating and drinking, Meng Qi’s previous changes indicated that the spiritual energy had an impact on him. Mo Li was about to further examine the pulse and prescribe medication when he unintentionally looked up and met Meng Qi’s eyes.
“…?”
Mo Li almost thought he saw that golden dragon.
The dragon that resided above Taijing, covered in golden scales, radiating brilliance.
The dragon had been hidden in the clouds and mist, eyes half-open, breathing almost nonexistent. Suddenly awakened, it stared at the intruder in its territory, slowly unfurling its body.
Just like when Mo Li was on Qimao Mountain, guided by the dragon veins of Taijing, he had seen the same thing.
The dragon’s eyes were like two suns shining in the pitch-black night, as if all things in the world were contained within them.
Although Meng Qi’s eyes didn’t emit light, in Mo Li’s eyes, at that moment, Meng Qi and that golden dragon overlapped.
“Meng… Meng Qi?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you see?”
Meng Qi’s eyes didn’t blink, and he spoke in a gentle and calm tone, “I want to talk to the doctor…”
When he spoke the last few words, he suddenly came to his senses and quickly stopped talking.
“I want to spend every day, every moment, every instant with the doctor.”
“…”
Mo Li was almost persuaded by that dragon-like gaze.
Mo Li knew that Meng Qi was pleased with him, so he wasn’t surprised when Meng Qi suddenly became emotional.
Compared to the first time when he was baffled by how one dragon vein could have desires for another, and how two dragon veins couldn’t produce offspring together, Mo Li was handling it much better now.
After spending time together during this period, Mo Li had gradually come to understand Meng Qi’s thoughts and began contemplating his own existence and the path of sentient beings in this world from this perspective.
Meng Qi was like someone who had opened a door for him, revealing many unseen landscapes.
Although he wasn’t sure about the future, Mo Li was no longer the dragon vein of Qimao Mountain who only wanted to find companions. His heart had gained something, and his eyes had added more colors, along with subtle changes in everything in the world.
—As a dragon vein born in the human world, he would eventually transform into a “human.”
Mo Li looked at Meng Qi and whispered, “Although I don’t know why, it’s very happy.”
“What?” Meng Qi reacted quickly, furrowing his brows.
Mo Li, using the motion of grabbing Meng Qi’s wrist, gently placed Meng Qi’s hand on his left hand.
The rhythm of his heartbeats was somewhat fast.
Hidden beneath his fair skin, it throbbed rapidly, again and again.
After a moment of stupefaction, Meng Qi simply extended both hands and covered Mo Li’s left hand.
Mo Li’s wrist was held in the center of the other’s palm, and he felt a bit amused; he only wanted Meng Qi to feel his pulse, but it seemed like Meng Qi wanted to take his hand away.
“Loosen up a bit.”
Mo Li reminded, as the wrist was held tightly, and the blood circulation was hindered, making his fingers numb.
Meng Qi reduced the pressure slightly but still didn’t let go. At the same time, his gaze followed Mo Li’s arm, up to the shoulder, and finally rested on the left side of Mo Li’s chest.
“…”
This was going too far, and Mo Li unceremoniously pulled his hand back.
“Don’t you hear clearly when you sense the true qi in the pulse?” Mo Li said with a stern face.
“I’m not a doctor; I don’t know how to feel pulses,” Meng Qi replied innocently, thinking that he should listen to the chest according to what he had read.
Mo Li turned and walked away without looking back.
Meng Qi didn’t hurry; he just followed leisurely, and the smile on his lips became even more evident.
Dragon Claw Peak was a relatively well-traveled route into the mountains. The scenery on Shangyun Mountain was magnificent, with strange peaks and unique rock formations constantly appearing. Depending on the direction, the mountain peaks often displayed different shapes. Apart from a few peaks designated as imperial tombs and off-limits, about a dozen peaks had visitors all year round. With more people, the roads were naturally well-maintained.
The stone steps of Dragon Claw Peak were smooth, and it was effortless for ordinary people to walk up them, let alone martial artists with inner strength.
They easily climbed halfway up the mountain.
Along the way, they passed five pavilions, some built at the bends of the mountain path, and some expanded into short corridors and long pavilions, enough to accommodate more than twenty people. Mo Li estimated that these rest stops were built for ordinary people.
Now that it was nighttime, there was no one in the pavilions, and the mountain path was equally deserted.
Unconsciously, Mo Li slowed down as he walked.
On either side of the mountain path were trees, their blossoms had closed, and the stone steps were covered with a shallow layer of pink and white petals. Birds had returned to their nests, and only the echoes in the empty valley lingered softly.
“Meng Qi, where do you live?”
“It’s quite far from here, over nine mountains, according to the nineteen dragon-shaped peaks on Shangyun Mountain. It’s close to the dragon’s tail,” Meng Qi replied, thinking of the beloved pet he once had.
The memory of that little sand rat’s appearance had gradually faded from his mind.
Only the deep-seated anger and grief remained, as if the incident had happened just yesterday.
Mo Li promptly noticed the change in Meng Qi’s breath behind him. He turned around and walked quickly, placing one hand on Meng Qi’s back and said seriously, “Calm your mind.”
Meng Qi stared in that direction for a long time and let out a deep sigh.
He recalled something else.
He remembered how that little sand rat had appeared. That day, he was wandering in the mountains when he suddenly felt that some of his spiritual energy had run away without listening to him, and it never returned. It was like a thief had come to his home and stolen a part of Shangyun Mountain’s treasures.
No, it was even more dramatic.
It was like the “valuable things” at home had run away with the thief on their own.
As a mountain spirit, he was furious.
Memories of this part were blurry, and Meng Qi didn’t know how he investigated it, but somehow, he quickly found that the “culprit” hid at the entrance of his “home.”
The culprit clung to him and refused to leave, stealing from him for an extended period.
He stared at that spot for an unknown amount of time until a trembling white sphere gradually emerged from the spiritual cave.
It had no specific form, no self-awareness; it had been forced out by the “homeowner’s” pressure and shivered instinctively.
It was a peculiar feeling, like something with a shared essence, but not quite the same. Meng Qi remembered that he could have thrown this sphere far away; it had already taken enough benefits, and it wouldn’t starve outside, eventually regaining consciousness.
But he didn’t.
He built a house there, transplanted spiritual herbs, and made it easier for the spiritual cave to connect with the spiritual energy of heaven and earth.
Every day, at sunrise and sunset, he would force the sphere to come out.
—Spiritual energy had to be consumed, whether it wanted to or not.
Didn’t it want to steal? Now, he was giving it plenty!
The sphere gradually took on a clear form and became a sand rat.
Initially thin and shadowy, it had no physical body. Meng Qi suspected it was deliberately mimicking him.
It was a strange feeling, like they were connected by blood.
The sphere grew fatter with each passing day until one day, it opened its eyes and ran around the courtyard, damaging many leaves of the spiritual herbs. Meng Qi thought he could teach it some manners, but it remained simple-minded.
Meng Qi refused to believe that it was his child.
Could a child be this stupid?
He turned and left, but after three days, he couldn’t help but return.
On that day, the sand rat was sleeping in the courtyard’s pit, just like the day it had left with him.
It didn’t move when poked, obedient when it wanted to be, and energetic enough to dig holes in the house’s roof when it felt like it.
Was this the feeling of having a companion?
Meng Qi felt a sense of loss.
He looked at the doctor, convinced that it wasn’t the same; the doctor was entirely different, what could a silly one like that do? It was a hassle to take care of, and it wouldn’t even produce any results.
—No matter how he nurtured it, it was half the size of his original form.
No matter how he fed it with spiritual energy, it only hummed and lay there pretending to be dead.
Raising a child wasn’t about having an extra pillow to keep warm! Even if he spread it out, it would barely make a difference. Meng Qi didn’t care for it.
But since he had raised it, he continued to do so; after all, there was an abundance of spiritual energy on Shangyun Mountain.
Meng Qi had never thought that one day that silly little creature would be gone.
It lay in the messy courtyard, cold to the touch, like a deflated ball, and its spiritual energy slowly flowed out of its body, returning to the spiritual cave.
Soon, it was just a shadow.
Then even the shadow disappeared, becoming a vague, indistinct shape.
“Ah…”
Meng Qi gasped, his head pounding.
Mo Li’s hand was shaken away by the surging true qi, and he tried to grab Meng Qi, but it was too late. Meng Qi’s figure disappeared rapidly into the darkness.
Author’s note:
Mo Li: … I had a feeling this would happen; I’ll have to chase after him all night.
———
I initially wanted to use the title “Spring Scenery,” but I was worried it might be censored, so I decided to stick with the original title.
