The mountains north of the Nu River lacked the delicate charm of the Jiangnan scenery, yet possessed a rugged, desolate grandeur that stirred the soul.
A lone carriage creaked along a winding mountain path. At the front sat Qiao Wei, flicking the reins lazily and singing a bawdy mountain tune about flirtations between men and women, the kind no one ever teaches but everyone somehow knows.
Crack! Crack!
The whip snapped overhead, but the horse had long since grown immune to such theatrics, plodding forward with a slow, stubborn gait. Wildflowers bloomed across the steep cliffs on either side, and a clear brook murmured beside the road, every now and then springing to life with a leaping fish.
A floral fragrance hung heavy in the air—sweet, intoxicating, even a little dizzying. It was spring. A season where even the earth seemed to sigh with desire. Trees budded, animals called for mates, and humans, well... humans dreamed.
Qiao Wei, ever the crude soul, grinned lecherously to himself, imagining what his young master, Qin Ren, and the ethereal beauty Zhen Luo might be doing inside the carriage. A gentle embrace? Whispered sweet nothings? Or perhaps... something far more scandalous?
Just then, a murmur floated from within:
"Brother Qin, a little gentler…"
"Of course. How about this pressure?"
"Mmm... perfect. Just like that…"
Qiao Wei's mind exploded with vivid imagination. His heart thumped like a war drum as he pictured Qin Ren and the enchanting, pure-yet-alluring Zhen Luo locked in a passionate embrace, their clothes strewn about, their bodies entangled in a dance of pleasure. Drool trickled from his mouth as he tried, and failed, to suppress his lascivious grin.
Inside the carriage, however, nothing of the sort was happening.Qin Ren was, quite simply, giving Zhen Luo a foot massage.
The girl's leg injury was healing, but after days of limited blood flow, her veins needed stimulation. With a gentle but practiced touch, Qin Ren kneaded her delicate feet—flawless, jade-like, as if carved by the gods. Each toe was proportioned with exquisite symmetry, her soles soft as the finest silk, untouched by the coarseness of travel.
Zhen Luo's body was limp with comfort, her cheeks pink, her breathing soft. The warmth from Qin Ren's palms, laced with a subtle inner energy, flowed through her like gentle waves, soothing yet oddly stirring.
"Brother Qin… this feels… strange…"
She blushed as she spoke, but her tone held no alarm—only an innocent bewilderment.
Qin Ren smiled softly. "Just relax. I'm using a special healing technique. It helps stimulate your meridians."
The technique, Burning Heart Qi, was one of Qin Ren's unique internal skills—capable of rousing circulation, easing tension, and... if misused, inducing a rather euphoric heat.
The energy coursed through Zhen Luo's meridians, stirring subtle waves beneath her skin. She fidgeted, not from pain but from a deep, unfamiliar warmth. Qin Ren, though composed, could sense the shift and quickly redirected the energy, easing its intensity.
But before the atmosphere could settle, a sudden bellow shattered the calm:
"Who the hell put a boulder in the middle of the road?!"
Qiao Wei's angry voice echoed from outside, followed by a string of colorful curses. The carriage jolted to a halt.
Qin Ren sighed, irritation flaring. Just when things were finally peaceful...
But before he could lift the curtain, another shout came:
"Damn it! Where'd all these armed bastards come from?! They got swords and everything! Thieves! Bandits! We're surrounded, Young Master!"
The moment froze.
Zhen Luo clutched Qin Ren's sleeve. "Be careful…"
Qin Ren nodded, then leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. "Wait here. I'll take care of this."
He stepped out of the carriage, rising atop the footboard with a flourish, and roared:
"Who dares block the path of Qin Ren, third son of the Qin family?! Release my man, or I'll burn your entire mountain hideout to the ground!"
Only then did he take stock of the situation—and his boldness faltered.
The road ahead, the cliffside above, even the brook beside them, were all teeming with armed men and women. Some stood solemn in white robes, others looked more like mercenaries or rogue cultivators. A dozen weathered elders stood atop the cliffs, gazing down like silent judges.
Qiao Wei was trussed up like a pig for slaughter, two gleaming blades pressed against his neck.
Qin Ren's eyes narrowed.
Well, well. Seems I've walked right into the dragon's den.