The north wind, always sharper and more biting than the gentle south wind in Ocean City, swept relentlessly through the vast, interconnected mountains, a labyrinth of peaks and valleys that made getting lost an effortless certainty. Along this lonely and desolate mountain road, a tall, imposing man dressed in practical black robes, carrying a slumped, wounded man in pristine white on his broad back, followed another group of people, their distant forms barely visible, far ahead of him.
When a particularly strong gust of north wind howled through the group, swirling dust and debris, the man in black's large, intense hazel eyes closed tightly, a reflexive shield against the stinging grit. Once the wind had passed his face, leaving behind a faint chill, he opened his eyes, their gaze resolute, and continued his unwavering pursuit of the group dressed in white along the lonely and desolate mountain road. When the distant group finally encountered a bubbling stream, their leader, Hu Jianguo, raised his hand, a silent signal for them to halt and rest.
It was well past noon when Guozhao Zhiqiang, his movements surprisingly gentle for such a powerful man, carefully lowered Hu Dingxiang to the ground under the sheltering branches of a gnarled tree to rest. He stared silently, a frown creasing his brow, at Hu Dingxiang's right boot, which was completely soaked in crimson blood, a grim testament to his injury. Then, without a word, he sat quietly beside him, his presence a silent vigil.
Hu Jianguo, the leader of the group, glanced dismissively at Hu Dingxiang, then addressed his juniors, his voice brisk. "Everyone, let's rest here for the night. The nearest village will take another day of walking, and we'll continue tomorrow morning." He then looked at the four female disciples. "Let's go see what's for dinner tonight."
"Yes, Senior Brother," one of the female disciples replied, her voice eager. The four quickly left the area, their movements light, leaving the injured Hu Dingxiang and the stoic Guozhao Zhiqiang alone.
Before sunset that night, a small, crackling bonfire illuminated Hu Jianguo and the four female disciples, their laughter echoing faintly as they rested around it. They had left the injured Hu Dingxiang and Guozhao Zhiqiang to rest under a tree, far away from their light and warmth, their comfort seemingly an afterthought.
Guozhao Zhiqiang stared intently at the distant group, his gaze cold, a silent judgment in his eyes as they ignored Hu Dingxiang's obvious injuries. With a sudden, decisive movement, he gently but firmly picked Hu Dingxiang up again.
"What are you doing?" Hu Dingxiang asked, surprised, a faint blush rising to his pale cheeks.
Guozhao Zhiqiang didn't answer, his silence profound, but walked purposefully towards the nearby stream, his steps steady.
"I can still walk," Hu Dingxiang said shyly, trying to sound independent.
Guozhao Zhiqiang remained silent, his expression unreadable. He carried Hu Dingxiang to the stream, then, with efficient movements, picked a flat stone and piled it meticulously on another, creating a makeshift seat. He then picked Hu Dingxiang up again, carefully seating him on the stacked rocks, ensuring his comfort. Without a word, he took off Hu Dingxiang's two boots, carefully rolled his trousers to knee height, and began to gently wash Hu Dingxiang's feet and legs, his hands surprisingly tender.
Hu Dingxiang looked down at the dark-brown, powerfully muscular young man kneeling in the cool water, his face intent on his task, washing his feet. He stared at the corner of the man's large, striking hazel eyes, which only looked at the water and his injured legs, never meeting his gaze. He wondered what mixed blood this handsome, silently efficient creature kneeling at his feet possessed, captivated by his unusual demeanor.
"You don't need to wash my legs for me," Hu Dingxiang said politely, a faint embarrassment in his voice. "I'll wash my feet and wounds myself."
Guozhao Zhiqiang didn't speak a single word, his focus unbroken, and continued to meticulously wash Hu Dingxiang's feet, his touch firm but gentle.
Hu Dingxiang reached out and, with a tentative touch, held Guozhao Zhiqiang's left hand. He smiled softly at Guozhao Zhiqiang, a gesture of genuine gratitude. "Thank you," he murmured.
Guozhao Zhiqiang finally raised his head, his hazel eyes meeting Hu Dingxiang's gaze for the first time, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. Hu Dingxiang smiled kindly at him. He then reached into his inner robe, retrieving a meticulously folded white handkerchief, embroidered with delicate peach blossoms at one corner. With unexpected tenderness, he gently wiped the blood from the wound. He then took out a small, unassuming ceramic bottle, uncorked it, and carefully applied the soothing medicine to Hu Dingxiang's wound.
"It will sting," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice deep and resonant, the first words he had spoken in a long while.
Hu Dingxiang chuckled, a faint, playful tone in his voice, despite the sting. "Wrap my wound with the lady's handkerchief; she'll be upset," he teased, trying to draw him out.
Guozhao Zhiqiang still avoided eye contact with Hu Dingxiang, his gaze returning to the wound. "She doesn't mind," he stated simply, his voice flat, devoid of explanation. He then rolled Hu Dingxiang's trousers down, his task complete, and began to wash the bloody boot, meticulously cleaning it.
"Then she is a great lady," Hu Dingxiang remarked, a genuine curiosity in his voice. "Many ladies would mind if you gave their gift away to another person."
Guozhao Zhiqiang looked at Hu Dingxiang, his hazel eyes intense, but remained silent, offering no further comment.
Hu Dingxiang smiled at Guozhao Zhiqiang, intrigued by his quiet nature. "You don't like to talk, but you know you're handsome when you smile. Smile a little bit more, and I believe many women will chase you from here to Ocean City." He chuckled softly, a lighthearted attempt at connection. "With your handsome appearance, you must be a very popular 'women killer.'"
"I don't kill innocent women," Guozhao Zhiqiang replied, his voice flat, utterly literal, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion.
Hu Dingxiang's smile broadened, a knowing amusement in his eyes. "It's a metaphor," he explained gently.
"I don't understand metaphor," Guozhao Zhiqiang stated simply, his voice devoid of embarrassment, a plain statement of fact.
Hu Dingxiang shook his head, a soft sigh escaping him. He finally understood that Guozhao Zhiqiang possessed a mind that couldn't grasp the nuances of poetry or metaphors, a curious, almost childlike literalness. He looked into the stream, its surface mirroring the twilight sky, and saw some fish jumping, their silver bodies flashing as they breathed the evening air. He said excitedly, his voice full of childish delight, "Look at the fish! If my leg weren't injured, I'd catch a fish for you to express my gratitude!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang was still meticulously washing Hu Dingxiang's boots. Without even looking at Hu Dingxiang, his voice a low rumble, he asked, "Do you want to eat fish?"
Hu Dingxiang sighed happily, a genuine longing in his voice. "It would be nice to eat fish for dinner. I don't want to be hungry all night, waiting for them."
Guozhao Zhiqiang, ever efficient, took a paper talisman from his inner robe and, with a practiced flick, threw it into the stream. When the talisman sank into the clear water, a shimmering golden net immediately appeared, expanding under the surface. A thin, luminous gold thread also appeared, extending from the net and attaching itself to his right wrist. He moved his hand in a slow, circular motion, and the golden net, obeying his command, drew closer and closer to them until it was directly under Hu Dingxiang's feet. There were twelve plump, shimmering fish caught within the golden net.
"Your talisman trick is amazing!" Hu Dingxiang exclaimed, his eyes wide with genuine awe and a delighted smile spreading across his face.
"You said you want to eat fish," Guozhao Zhiqiang replied, his voice simple, stating the obvious. He walked up to Hu Dingxiang and bent down slightly, offering his back. "I'll carry you back."
Hu Dingxiang, without hesitation, jumped onto Guozhao Zhiqiang's back, a comfortable familiarity already forming between them.
Guozhao Zhiqiang grabbed the teeming fishing net and Hu Dingxiang's cleaned boots, and walked steadily back to the group, his steps unwavering.
After returning to the meager camp, Guozhao Zhiqiang gently put Hu Dingxiang back next to the tree. He then efficiently collected some dry wooden sticks and, with another paper talisman, started a small, crackling bonfire, its warmth a welcome beacon in the growing darkness. He carefully put four of the freshly caught fish on a stick and began to grill them over the flames, the aroma of cooking fish mingling with the scent of pine.
"Junior sister Shaqing, come grab the other fish for you guys!" Hu Dingxiang called out, his voice filled with newfound generosity, directing her towards Zhiqiang's catch.
Shaqing walked over, her eyes widening at the sight of the fish, and took them. "Thank you, Second Senior Brother," she said politely. She then looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, a faint smile touching her lips. "Also, thank you, this hunter." She then walked back towards the other three women and Hu Jianguo, carrying the bounty.
"They don't care for you, why do you care for them?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, his voice low, his gaze fixed on Hu Dingxiang, a quiet question of compassion.
"We can't finish it anyway," Hu Dingxiang replied with a shrug, offering a practical reason for his kindness.
"What are you guys doing here?" Guozhao Zhiqiang inquired, seeking to understand their presence in these desolate mountains.
"The villagers in Golden Cliff Village want us to help catch fire monster creatures," Hu Dingxiang explained, his voice turning serious. "But we happened to run into those wolves and lost the horses. The Golden Gate Sect and The Lotus Sect may have reached Golden Cliff Village by now, if they hurried." He pointed to a distant mountain. "Look over there. On the right is Golden Cliff Village and on the left is Mountain Village. You'll reach Mountain Village in two days. At the intersection tomorrow, we'll part ways."
Guozhao Zhiqiang looked at Hu Dingxiang, his gaze unwavering, concern in his eyes. "You're injured. Do you still want to go?"
Hu Dingxiang looked at the burning flame, his eyes reflecting the flickering light, a quiet resolve in his expression. "I have to go. It's my responsibility as a hunter to answer calls from people seeking help."
The next morning, Guozhao Zhiqiang opened his eyes, the first rays of dawn painting the sky, and found himself utterly alone. Hu Dingxiang and the others had already left, their departure silent and swift. As he stood up, a pang of something akin to disappointment in his chest, he saw the word "thank you" neatly written on the dusty ground next to him, a small, poignant message. He then turned and, with a new sense of purpose, walked towards the mountain intersections, his path now his own.