劍問蒼天 - 第114章 脫困 - 翰墨軒

The mouth of this hidden passage opened halfway up Kongsang Mountain, beneath a cliff on the mountain's shaded side, where the trees grew thick and dense—extraordinarily well concealed. No wonder no one had seen it in eight hundred years. Most likely even the descendants of the Blood-Refining Hall today knew nothing of this place.

Zhang Qingyue and Bili stumbled and staggered out. Almost at the very instant they flung themselves to the ground, there came a tremendous crash; a boulder weighing ten thousand catties slammed down, sending dust flying everywhere, sealing the cave mouth tight. From this day on, no one would ever again behold the secrets within the mountain's belly.

Sprawled on the ground, Zhang Qingyue gulped for air, his fingers clutching tightly the faintly moist green grass. That sensation of running along the very edge of life and death truly leaves a person breathless. After a long while, his heart finally began to ease, and he lifted his head and looked to the side. Bili lay right beside him; her originally fair face was now lightly dusted with dirt. As if she had sensed his gaze, she too turned to look at him.

The joy of survival after calamity rose slowly to both their faces. Bili's lips moved; it was as though ripples stirred in her bright eyes, glistening and faintly misted. She gave a cheer, half a sob caught in it—a release after boundless, crushing pressure—and she could think of nothing else at all. She only felt that the sky was so very blue, the mountains so very high, the breeze blowing in gusts, the whole mountain dripping with green, shadows swaying, the forest surging in waves—this world was, after all, beautiful beyond compare, everywhere and in all things.

"We—we're alive!" she cried joyfully to the green hills and the blue sky.

Zhang Qingyue laughed aloud beside her, watching her throw her arms open wide and show the most beautiful smile in all the world.

With a crackle and pop, the flames devoured the firewood, giving off crisp sounds and sending up wisps of light smoke. Bili sat by the fire, watching Zhang Qingyue dress a freshly caught wild hare with a thick branch, then skewer it and set it over the flames to roast. Under the flame's slow caress the hare meat turned golden brown, and bead by bead the fat congealed into droplets and fell hissing into the fire.

Beneath the forest canopy a rich, savory fragrance spread on the air. Having gone so hungry in the cave, Bili could not help her mouth watering, and she swallowed. But Zhang Qingyue was entirely unhurried; he judged the fire, then by force of habit reached to touch his waist, and suddenly his face went blank—then lit up with delight.

Bili asked in surprise, "What is it?"

Zhang Qingyue drew a small bundle from his waist with great glee and said, laughing, "To think we lost all our rations, but these things are still here—and I never even noticed them these past days."

Bili looked toward the bundle as Zhang Qingyue carefully opened it, revealing several small bottles and jars. Curious, she picked a few up and sniffed them, then froze, staring at Zhang Qingyue, almost speechless: "This—this is salt and spices..."

Zhang Qingyue beamed. "That's right. I've carried them on me ever since I came down the mountain—just in case I had to spend a night in the wilds, so I could cook something decent. I never thought they'd come in handy today."

Bili looked him up and down, for a moment at a loss for words, as he carefully sprinkled these things—whether five-spice or salt—over the hare meat, then slowly turned the branch to roast it, the fragrance in the air growing ever richer. Never had she seen a man of the orthodox path who actually carried seasonings on his person when he went out. From the look of him, he seemed more a cook than a disciple of some illustrious orthodox sect.

After a while Zhang Qingyue leaned in and sniffed, then said with delight, "Done—time to eat."