Chapter 197: The Devil Roams

Jiang Xuening asked, “Should we keep going?”

Perhaps they could gamble with fate and make it out before the snow sealed the mountains. Or maybe the snow wouldn’t be heavy and would stop soon, leaving their journey unaffected.

But Xie Wei shook his head. After gazing ahead for a long time, he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and began descending the ridge.

Jiang Xuening stood on the high ground, watching his retreating figure. Against the vast wilderness, he looked like a lone crane.

Braving the impending snowstorm was indeed too risky.

But finding a place to rest wasn’t entirely safe either.

If the snowstorm was heavy and lasted long, they could be trapped, facing the threat of freezing or starving.

—Both outcomes were possible. Why did Xie Wei choose the latter?

She recalled that Xie Wei disliked snow.

But was that the only reason?

Frowning slightly, she stood still for a moment before suppressing her doubts and following him back the way they came.

By now, the dark clouds had rolled in.

The light in the wilderness, already dim, grew even more oppressive and uneasy as the gloom spread.

The leaves hung motionless.

But insects and ants scurried across the soil and decaying leaves as if fleeing disaster.

It took them a while to find a cave not far behind at the foot of the mountain. The rock face bore marks of water erosion, and a few stones lay at the entrance, weathered by the wind, crumbling at a touch.

The cave was no more than two zhang deep and one zhang wide.

Its height was just under a zhang, with some lower sections requiring one to duck to pass through, making it quite rugged.

As Jiang Xuening cleared away the scattered rocks and dust in the cave, she found a few tufts of gray-black fur, likely left by rabbits or similar creatures. She guessed that small animals had sought shelter here during past storms.

They were essentially taking over someone else’s home.

But that was fine.

While gathering dry autumn grass to spread on the ground, she thought that if any animals came later, they might just walk into a trap, saving her and Xie Wei the trouble of hunting for food.

The snow might stop soon, or it might last a long time. In either case, their two main concerns were cold and hunger.

So after tidying up the cave, Jiang Xuening busied herself collecting branches and firewood.

Meanwhile, Xie Wei took his bow and arrows deep into the dense forest.

It wasn’t until dusk that Jiang Xuening saw him emerge from the opposite valley.

In his hands were a plucked pheasant, a skinned rabbit, and even a small muntjac, all strung on a bamboo pole.

His face was cold, and his robe was stained with blood.

Jiang Xuening’s eyelids twitched: Over the past few days, they had relied on Xie Wei’s excellent archery to hunt for food. But he was a man who valued cleanliness and knew she couldn’t stand the sight of blood. So after hunting, he usually processed the game on the spot, ensuring she didn’t see it and keeping himself free of bloodstains.

But now…

She sensed something was off, feeling a deep unease.

Xie Wei, however, showed no reaction to the blood on his clothes. He indifferently stuck the bamboo pole with the game into a crevice in the rock, then went out again and returned with several leafy branches, stacking them at the cave entrance as a makeshift wall to block the incoming snow and wind.

Then he sat down to start a fire.

Throughout the entire process, he didn’t say a word.

Jiang Xuening suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of oppression.

Not from the approaching snowstorm.

But from the man before her.

She remained silent, sitting across from him on a relatively clean spot, hugging her knees and quietly observing him.

Night fell silently.

The wind howled relentlessly outside. Inside the cave, the light grew dimmer and dimmer.

Xie Wei’s face became indistinct.

But the striking of flint began to spark.

His calm, cold silhouette flickered between light and darkness, momentarily illuminated by sudden flashes, then plunged back into the shadows as the sparks died, as if caught in an endless tug-of-war. Only when the sparks landed on the dry grass and the orange-red flames slowly rose did the surrounding darkness gradually disperse, illuminating his face while casting a wavering shadow on the rugged cave wall behind him.

For some reason, when the fire finally caught, Jiang Xuening quietly let out a sigh of relief.

Xie Wei looked at her.

But she avoided his direct gaze, instead turning her eyes toward the cave entrance and exclaiming softly, “It’s snowing!”

It was finally snowing.

The dark night sky was like a heavy curtain, torn open by the sharp claws of the wind, releasing countless snowflakes that fell like goose feathers.

Some even landed on the branches piled at the cave entrance.

Judging by the intensity, the mountains would likely be blanketed in silver within an hour.

Jiang Xuening watched for a while, her heart heavy, but she forced a lighthearted smile. “Looks like we’re stuck here for now.”

She thought Xie Wei would turn to look at the snow too.

But when she turned back, his gaze remained fixed on her, deep and silent, like a snowflake blown into the cave by the wind.

He didn’t glance outside, not even once. Only after the strained smile on Jiang Xuening’s lips faded did he lower his eyelids again and add more wood to the fire.

Xie Wei’s fingers, which usually plucked the strings of a qin, looked elegant.

Breaking a few branches seemed effortless for him, and he tossed them into the fire. The flames licked at the not-quite-dry leaves, curling them and producing faint crackling sounds.

The cave suddenly fell into complete silence.

Jiang Xuening sat across from him, tending the fire, neither of them breaking the quiet.

The flickering flames danced in the depths of their pupils.

In this moment, there was an unspoken ordinariness.

In this place, cut off from the world, words seemed to lose their meaning. She and Xie Wei shared a tacit understanding—there was nothing to say, and nothing they wanted to say.

Occasionally, she added a few sticks to the fire.

But her thoughts seemed to drift far away, as memories, both distant and recent, bright and painful, flooded in.

Jiang Xuening buried her face in her arms, watching the flames. The fatigue from the earlier busyness finally caught up to her, and she gradually felt drowsy.

She didn’t know when she closed her eyes.

In her hazy consciousness, she thought she heard someone suppressing a cough.

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself lying on the soft grass pile she had prepared earlier, a blood-stained Taoist robe draped over her shoulders. Xie Wei, now missing his outer robe, still sat facing the fire, a slender branch in his hand, staring motionlessly at the flames.

Jiang Xuening thought she must still be too kind-hearted.

Otherwise, why would her nose sting with emotion?

She opened her mouth to say something, but seeing Xie Wei’s profile illuminated by the firelight, she ultimately remained silent. She got up, folded the robe, and handed it back to him, saying, “Thank you. Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Only then did Xie Wei turn to look at her. He took the robe but didn’t put it back on.

His fingertips brushed against the fabric, still warm.

For a moment, he wanted to ask: Jiang Xuening, do you believe that devils roam the earth? In deserted cities, in silent snow-filled nights.

—He didn’t dare to sleep.

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