Upstream, upon a smooth blue-green boulder in the creek, sat a young maiden clad in a pale green dress. Her back faced Gene, her figure slender and graceful, as she played a short jade flute with unwavering focus.
The sound that drifted forth was ethereal and flowing, yet tinged with an unshakable sorrow—a melody so out of place in the desolate wilderness.
By her side, on the grassy bank, a few woodland deer and rabbits—creatures that should have fled at the scent of humans—stood calmly, drinking from the stream. They seemed utterly entranced by the music, their fear dissolved into serenity.
The strange harmony of the scene filled Gene with both awe and unease. Who was this girl? Why was she alone in such a dangerous place? Could her flute truly pacify wild beasts?
He dared not reveal himself. Holding his breath, he watched in silence.
After a while, the maiden lowered the jade flute and let out a soft sigh. Turning her head, she seemed to glance—by chance—toward the stone where Gene hid.
Gene's heart clenched. Had she noticed him?
But her gaze held no sharpness, no focus; it drifted past him, distant and unfixed, as if searching the far mountains instead. Her profile, lit by the pale sky, was delicate and pure—untouched by worldly dust—yet shadowed by an innocence and quiet sorrow.
Just then, Gene's ears caught the faintest sounds from downstream—footsteps, hushed voices, men approaching in search.
Feng Tianyu's pursuers? Or mountain bandits?
The maiden clearly heard it too. Panic flickered across her face. She swiftly stowed the jade flute, rose to her feet, and slipped into the nearby woods with the grace of a startled deer, vanishing into the shadows. The animals, as if waking from a dream, scattered at once.
Thoughts raced through Gene's mind. The maiden was mysterious, yet her presence carried no malice. She seemed, instead, to be fleeing from danger herself.
The searchers' voices grew louder, nearer. Gene wasted no time. He slipped away in the opposite direction, moving swiftly and silently.
Moments later, four or five armed men appeared by the creek. Their attire resembled that of household retainers, blades in hand. They scoured the ground carefully, noting the fresh traces left by the girl and the beasts.
"We heard the flute just now, I'm certain!"
"Search! She can't have gone far! The master's orders are clear—bring her back, no matter what!"
Their hushed voices carried across the water as they split up, pursuing upstream in the direction the maiden had fled.
From the concealment of a distant treetop, Gene observed, suspicion knotting in his chest. The girl was not Feng Tianyu's quarry—her troubles lay elsewhere.
This southern wilderness was proving more perilous by the day.