The late autumn wind, like a savage beast, tore at the carriage window lattice with the dead leaves it carried, producing a sharp "clatter" as if venting endless fury. The carriage jolted along the winding mountain road, its wheels grinding against gravel with a rhythmic "creak, creak" that sounded like the heavy, labored sigh of an old man nearing his end. Shen Mingyue gently pushed aside the dust-covered curtain to reveal layers of mountain peaks.
Amidst the swirling clouds and mist, the white walls and grey tiles of the buildings on the mountainside shimmered in and out of view, as ethereal as a pavilion in a fairyland. The damp, frigid mountain fog, like a mischievous sprite, snaked into the carriage in wisps, dampening her temples and bringing shivers of cold. Gu Jinghong’s knuckles were white as he gripped the reins, the wind snapping his cloak against his back like a battle flag in the fray.
He turned, his gaze weary as he looked at Shen Mingyue inside. His voice was husky: "We will reach Old Xu’s retreat in another half-hour." Shen Mingyue nodded faintly, her eyes falling on the tattered manual wrapped in layers of brocade in her lap.
Chapter 128